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This is the story of young mages and malcontents, of strange friends and bedfellows, and of deep and mysterious arcana. It has been a comedy sometimes, a tragedy at other times, and a political thriller more often than you’d like. It has been a romance as often as not, and rarely has it been an easy or straight-forward one.

It is your story: the story of Ezreal Mious of Dappulyet, or Ezreal Van Houtzmann of the Hawksong Mages’ Tower, or ‘Tips’ to your friends.

When you were young, you dreamed of being a Life Mage—a healer, perhaps, or a master chimericist like your master. You achieved all that and more, but a youthful fixation about the Archmage’s daughter—your principle academic rival—set you on a path that has since defined your life. Chasing her secrets, you uncovered countless others:

The secret history of Hawksong’s highest nobility, of how they rose and (seemingly) feel, infiltrated and adulterated by dark forces from ancient aeons.

The true origins of life on the Priem Materia Plane, created from darkness and molded by alien forces—by your own gods, originating in some place beyond the spark-speckled night skin—Into something ‘better’.

The nature of body, and of soul, and how to mend, preserve, recreate, and duplicate them. The secret of to transform them into something new.

The means to escape fate, foil divination, and break the cage of predestination once and for all… To achieve TRUE freedom.

Some call you ‘Unseelie’—unholy, accursed, heretical, maybe even mad. Your own people—your mother’s people, the Sylvan Elves of your homeland—want to imprison you for your crimes you’ve committed and the danger they believe you pose. It hurts your heart to hear these accusations, and to perceive the growing gulf between you and they. To reconcile with the Sylvanfolk would mean a great deal: your spiritual reunion with the tradition you’ve long followed, but ALSO the possibility of your mother attending your upcoming wedding.

But you are a SEEKER OF THE ESOTERIC, and for you, pursuit of hidden truth, and of a better future for all peoples, will always come first.

But even so…

Will you delay your wedding until after negotiations with the Sylvan delegation?

>Yes—you hold out hope that you can find common ground with your homeland, and invite your mother to witness your marriage

>No—your father will be in attendance, and you’ll have the women you love and the friends you’ve made there, and that is more than enough

>Write-in

Previous thread: >>6050283
Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=reptoidqm
>>
>>6074442
>Yes—you hold out hope that you can find common ground with your homeland, and invite your mother to witness your marriage
I wanna invite our mom to it
>>
>>6074442
>>No—your father will be in attendance, and you’ll have the women you love and the friends you’ve made there, and that is more than enough
>>
>>6074442
>Yes—you hold out hope that you can find common ground with your homeland, and invite your mother to witness your marriage
>>
>>6074442
>Yes—you hold out hope that you can find common ground with your homeland, and invite your mother to witness your marriage
>>
>>6074465
>>6074489
>>6074507
>>6074641
Your romantic situation is, put rather mildly, complicated at the moment. But then, what else is new?

When you were young, your confusing mix of envy, suspicion, and affection for Izirina Henzler eventually gave way to a somewhat-unconventional romance, only for an impulsive act of dangerous selfishness to stall that progress. It was during that time that yet you first found another love: Costella Fanucci, a former patient of yours whom you cured of a deformative mutagenic plague. In the years since, you reconciled these competing affections—a process made easier by Costella’s own attraction to members of her own sex, and Izirina’s willingness to volunteer for experimental modifications of her mind, body and spirit.

But that didn’t mean things became EASY.

Competing priorities have extended your courtship with both women far beyond the local norm. Between your various missions of peacekeeping and metaphysical exploration, the persistent machinations of Costella’s well-heeled ex-paramour, and the inherent drama of precarious polyamory, you’ve encountered delay after delay in ‘making an honest woman’ out of either of the two women who have been sharing your bed for years now…

And it seems that isn’t about to end just yet.

“It’s just… I really want my mother to be there,” you admit.

Izirina frowns. Before the rather blunt mage-girl can think better of it, she asks: “Do you really think that’s a possibility?”

“Iz!” Costella gasps.

“No, that’s a fair point.” You make this admission with some annoyance, but it’s not really directed at Izirina. “I can’t know for sure. But… there’s a possibility. If these negotiations go well, and we can make the Sylvan delegation see reason…”

You’re being stupidly optimistic, you realize. It wasn’t so long ago that the Council of Elders who reigns from the Sylvan capital of Iternagreyn had attempted to steal your life’s work, and to kidnap Izirina. Form their last correspondence, it’s abundantly clear that they still consider Izzy and yourself a very real threat to the future. This is most probably because of the prophecies of the elven ‘minasien’ sage, Nenaias, who predicted that and elven-blooded descendant of Izirina Henzler would one day reclaim her birthright as the heir to Hawksong’s collapsed House of Yosef, and eventually give rise to a world-conquering tyrant.

(It might also be because your known associates include a lizardman who has taken up the sinister mantle of Dragon King, an outcast elven werewolf, and at least a couple demonic entities, because you smuggled a monstrous invader out of captivity in their realm, because you have been sharing the secrets of the Moon Goddesses with human laypersons, or because you responded to that kidnapping attempt by lethally ‘disappearing’ the squad they sent… But those actions all have very good explanations, honestly!)
>>
>>6074683
Just as your cataloguing of your entirely justified) crimes has begun to deteriorate your morale, Costella brings you out of it. In her characteristic fashion, she takes your hands in hers and meets your eyes with her own beautiful blue-green ones.

“I get it,” she says. “Like, seriously. I mean… I’m still hoping that Mama and Papa can come. Maybe taking a little bit of extra time is what we ALL need?”

You squeeze her hands and smile, grateful as ever for her understanding and support. Costella might not be the most intellectual’ member of your ‘throuple’, but you’d be surprised if anyone, anywhere, can boast a fiancé as understanding or empathetic as she is. But as for Edmondo and Ines Fanucci, you future ‘in-laws’…

Well, the last time you heard from them, it was as collaborators in a rather scattershot lawsuit accusing you of everything from uncompetitive mercantile practices to rape and sexual perversion. Thanks in no small part to your connections with the Royal Family, you had managed to slap that down before the matter ever saw the inside of a courtroom, but it was not without expense; the out-of-court settlement you paid ate into your Mages Tower research advance, such that even with this delay, you won’t be able to afford the lavish celebration which Costella had hoped for… And ever since you defeated this slanderous attempt upon your reputation, you’ve seen neither hide nor hair of the Fanucci family.

“Maybe,” you say, without much confidence.

The elven delegation from your homeland will be here by the middle of the summer, as you understand it. There are myriad reasons for the delay—officials with conflicting responsibilities and such, mostly—but the REAL reason seems to be so that everyone involved can prepare their arguments and angle of approach… And ready their responses of last resort, if the negotiations fall through.

After all, there is a very real possibility that if you cannot make the Sylvan Realms see sense, there will be war, or at least further breakdown in the centuries-old relationship between the elven and human peoples of the North.

What preparations will you make, for the diplomatic talks ahead?
>Get advice—and request a character witness-from your mentor in the ways of Feycraft, The Spirit of the Old Maple
>Pray to the Goddess Miannie, Princess of the New Moon, and offer apologies for your trespasses in exchange for her favour
>Call upon the Dragon King of Bloodrise to attend, in his guise as the Prince Consort of Hawksong, to clear the air over his own ambitions
>Ask the Archmage of Hawksong’s Mage Tower to attend, in case things escalate to an arcane confrontation
>Actually, you might use this extra time to talk to the Fanuccis, and to clear the air in advance of the delayed nuptials…
>Write-in
>>
>>6074691
>Get advice—and request a character witness-from your mentor in the ways of Feycraft, The Spirit of the Old Maple
>Call upon the Dragon King of Bloodrise to attend, in his guise as the Prince Consort of Hawksong, to clear the air over his own ambitions

We’re not praying to the moon goddess. We defended ourselves. We’re not apologizing for that.

We don’t need to talk to the fanucci right now - marriage is of less importance than being taken away.

I decide to involve Long Wang mainly because the sylvan realms are already aware of him - and suspect he is theral - so not getting him involved won’t obscure that either. We also need someone to back us up on why we had to get the prince out (and why we couldn’t just run away without him). Coordinate our excuses.
>>
>>6074774
>+1
good reasons
>>
>>6074691
>Actually, you might use this extra time to talk to the Fanuccis, and to clear the air in advance of the delayed nuptials…
>>
>>6074691
>Actually, you might use this extra time to talk to the Fanuccis, and to clear the air in advance of the delayed nuptials…

>Pray to the Goddess Miannie, Princess of the New Moon, and offer apologies for your trespasses in exchange for her favour

No. Do not take the Sylvan realms mortal enemy with us and solidify our relationship with him in their eyes. Sounds like a recipe for not reconciling and escalation should the talks go wrong
>>
>>6074774
I can get behind that.
>>
>>6074774
>Get advice—and request a character witness-from your mentor in the ways of Feycraft, The Spirit of the Old Maple
>Call upon the Dragon King of Bloodrise to attend, in his guise as the Prince Consort of Hawksong, to clear the air over his own ambitions

The elves are still seething about us freeing natvodsk, they can take u[ their complaints with his father.
>>
>>6074691
>Pray to the Goddess Miannie, Princess of the New Moon, and offer apologies for your trespasses in exchange for her favour
>Ask the Archmage of Hawksong’s Mage Tower to attend, in case things escalate to an arcane confrontation

I wouldn’t mind seeing Long Wang again, but I do want to repair our relationship with the elves and the Moon Princess, and touch bases with the Archmage again.
>>
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>>6074944
>>6074912
>>6074812
>>6074785
>>6074782
>>6074774
[Locking the vote! Gonna' make some coffee before I write, though.]
>>
>>6075216
For the last several months, you have been dividing much of your time between two places: the land reserve set aside by Queen Ekaterine as a reward for rescuing her city from the dragon-pox epidemic, and the demiplane which you seized through (fully-justified, altruistically-motivated) betrayal of ‘Queen’ Banelight and her so-called ‘Unseelie Court’. The latter feels more like a home to you, especially since you constructed an old-fashioned (and very cozy) wizard’s keep there. As more and more time passes, though, the two ‘worlds’ have led into one another.

Even so, you’re surprised to find the spriggan you seek within the demiplane proper, just outside your keep.

“You aren’t at your tree,” you note.

“Oh? Have those Banelight-dark eyes of yours expanded your insight, young half-an-elf?” teases the old fairy.

“It’s just… You’re the Spirit of the Old Maple.”

“Indeed I am, indeed I am,” he agrees, nodding his head thoughtfully with the sound of creaking wood and rustling leaves. “I am such wherever I go, though. Just as wherever you go, and whatever you do or become, you shall be Ezreal Mious of Dappulyet.”

“And Ezreal Van Hotuzmann of Hawksong,” you note.

“And he as well, yes,” agrees the spriggan. “But it’s never stopped you being the explorer and liberator of the Goblin Wastes, has it? Or a student of the Holy Moon?”

You wince a little at the bittersweet memory of that heavenly realm, where once you soared the skies and studied in the Sacrae Scholae Lunae with Divine Princess Miannie’s own blessing.

“Likewise, I thought I would take a stroll, to see this place which you took from Banelight, when you took her eyes,” he continues. “I wished to see it with MY eyes… What you had created.”

You refrain from commenting on the spriggan’s apparent LACK of eyes, since the closest thing to such organs he seems to have are a couple deep pits in his woody face. Instead, you ask: “And? Do you like it?”

The Spirit of the Old Maple is not the only visiting fairy. Rather, much of his court—and many a visiting fairy whom they have invited with them—frolic inside and outside of your keep, enjoying your admittedly-sparse garden here, alighting in trees. To your mild consternation, some even let themselves into your towers to raid your pantry or ogle the Unseelie Star which powers and preserves this place. A simultaneous roar and bleat shake the stones, and several giggling pixies spill out of the upstairs window and nearly hit the ground before they catch themselves with their wings and flit way, giggling.
>>
>>6075270
Muffins, your chimera companion, stares out the window after them with both lion and goat heads. You look up at him and shrug helplessly; allowing the True Fey of Old maple Hill access to this place was part of the deal you made to gain their aid in mapping the place’s network of extradimensional tunnels. Besides, these are friends: they don't just take, but rather they bring seeds to plant and blessings for the soil, the water, and the breeze.

“I think you have done a good thing with a bad thing,” the wizened spriggan answers, “but good does not erase bad, even as bad can spoil good.”

You narrow your eyes a little. “Meaning?”

“If I were to bring you a delicious confection, like one of those cookies your mage-girl is so fond off, you would find it enticing, hm?”

“Uh,” you stammer, confused by the apparent change in subject, “I guess?”

“And if I were to instead bring you a fistful of worms, would that be as appetizing?”

You grimace a little, and shake your head. Worms and bugs may be part of the natural order, but they’ve never been a part you have much fondness for.

“And if I were to grind up those worms, mash them, and bake them into a cookie, what then?” asks the spriggan. “Does the cookie become less appetizing because it’s full of worms?”

You gag a little, and reply: “Obviously!”

“But the worms do not become MORE appetizing just because they look like a cookie, do they?” he asks, leaning forward and regarding you closely.

You take a moment to consider his words, before replying: “This isn’t about worms or confections, is it?”

“Of course it is,” the spriggan replies. “Just as when you asked me my thoughts about this demiplane of yours, you meant the question as you asked it. You just ALSO meant something else.”

You sigh. He knows why you were looking for him.

“So the negotiations, and the peace we’re striving for, is the cookie?” you interpret. “And the worms…”

“Are WYRMS.”
>>
>>6075272
It takes you a moment to understand that he means ‘wyrm’ with a ‘Y’… As in the Dragon King of Bloodrise. To most, human or elf, the tales of monsters in the westerly Bloodrise Mountain Range are simply that: tales. People steer clear of their heights, but no marauding army has come down from them. In recent years, even the conflict with local kobold clans has calmed down, though at the apparent cost of several lucrative dwarven mining operations which have stopped reporting to their respective corporate chiefs. None who remember the fear and the fire which descended upon the land five years ago can rest easy, though, because they know the truth: there ARE monsters in the mountain, and they look very much like the dragons—the ‘wyrms’—of ancient history, who made meals of Men and nearly drove elvenkind to extinction.

Worse yet, the Council of Elders in Iternagreyn knows the same dark truth that you do: that the king of the mountain-monsters, the self-professed Dragon King of Bloodrise, is ALSO Prince Consort Long Wang of Hawksong. In his human guise, he is husband to Queen Ekaterine, and father to her young heir apparent…

And thus Hawksong, however marvelous its metropolis and whatever the virtues of its paladin-produced peace, is a cookie full of worms.

“There has to be SOMETHING I can do,” you whine. “I can’t just… Just give up! They want to take me prisoner! And even if I agreed to that… What then? Hawksong… The world… it will still have ‘worms’. The problem won’t go away!”

“Unless the worms do,” the Spirit notes.

“Not an option,” you snap. “I refuse to believe that the solution is… Is Extermination.”

“Was that not your solution for the Unseelie?”

You hesitate to respond. You did indeed slay scores of Unseelie Fey to claim this once-wretched place. Your own snow-pale complexion and night-dark eyes are the inheritance of the energies you absorbed from Banelight, after you bested and destroyed her, and sent what remained onto The Lord of Endings.

“That was different,” you retort. “She forced my hand. The Dr—The Prince Consort, and even his ‘wyrm’ son, they’re not so unreasonable. They’re… they’re capable of change, of peace. I believe that.”

“When is a worm not a worm?” muses the spriggan aloud.

You groan. Another riddle?

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Think on it,” the Spirit of the old Maple tells you. “When you find an answer, maybe they will try your recipe.”

The consultation with your fairy mentor leaves you with more questions and fewer hopeful assurances than you’d have liked. It does make one thing amply clear, though: The Prince Consort, or Dragon King, or WHATEVER he is, is central to this negotiation. You need him to be there, too, if you’re to make the case that he and his ilk can coexist with Man and with Elf.
>>
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>>6075275
Are you quite certain?” Queen Ekaterine asks, and not for the first time, once the letter has been sealed. “My… The Prince Consort, he is not an evil man, but he is… His cultural upbringing, and his faith, mean his methods of solving problems like this can be, ah, direct.”

“I thought he was over the idea of making war on the Sylvan Realms,” you reply.

“That was before they were threatening to expose his heritage,” she notes sourly. “And… And implicitly, threatening myself, and his children. Prince Long Wang… Theral… I know he has a good and true heart, he DOES… But I also know he would burn the whole world, to protect his family and his people.”

“Maybe don’t say THAT in the negotiations,” you point out. “They know who is he, though. WHAT he is. We need to address that if they’re going to trust you or me.”

And so the letter goes out, by the Queen’s fastest and most clandestine messenger, to the mountains where the King of Monsters reigns in his hidden kingdom. Two weeks later, the response returns: the Prince Consort is coming back from his ‘adventures abroad’, to support his wife in the upcoming diplomatic discussions.

Now, you just need to decide what to DO about those discussions… And the initial demands their delegation made, in their accession letter:

“We renounce all hostilities against Axios’ issue, and against Hawksong, and the territory called ‘The Old Maple Hill Land Reserve’, and against all therein, and also against Izirina Henzler. In exchange, we ask only three things:

The formal dissolution—eternal and in perpetuity-of The House of Yosef.

A formal renewal of our mutual commitment to our shared Creator Gods and against all our ancestral enemies—foremost, any who would wear the name or fly the banner of the Dragon Kings of old.

And the return of Ezreal Mious, also called Magus Ezreal Van Houtzmann, and various other names, to the land of his birth, for fair judgement in the manner of all Elves of the Sylvan Realms.”

>Do you make any other preparations will you make for the talks ahead?
>Write-in if so

How will you convince the Sylvan Elves to coexist with the Dragon King?
>Write-in your approach

What concessions are you prepared to make, if any?
>Write-in if so

[I think that this situation calls for some discussion and clever write-ins, anons. I can think of a few possible solutions, and have hinted at some. Since this is THE BIG ONE, though, there isn’t only one right answer, and I don’t think it would be fun or meaningful to give one to you.]

[My next write-up will be in about 27 hours or so, but I'll pop in periodically to answer questions if you have them.]
>>
>>6075278
>Pray to the Goddess Miannie, Princess of the New Moon, and offer apologies for your trespasses
I would at least like to apologize, maybe informally talk things out?
>Dragon King and Princess Miannie Peace Union, sealed by marriage?
Probably ain’t gonna work, but I do feel compelled to bring up the possibility- this is the only way to secure peace, after all.
>Our return
I’m willing to concede our return, and potentially a fair trial- anything beyond that, including punishments or confinement, will not be promised.
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>>6075346
I don't seen the queen marrying the dragon, specially when he's already married, and might see this as an insult.
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>>6075278
Posting the full aggression route

>Do you make any other preparations will you make for the talks ahead?
Learn the fireball spell

>How will you convince the Sylvan Elves to coexist with the Dragon King?
Tell them if they don't, we'll burn all their forests down and finish the extermination the dragons started.

>What concessions are you prepared to make, if any?
Maybe Theral can call himself the Fiery Lizard King instead of the Dragon King, but only if he wants to.
>>
>>6075365
watchout that edge, anon
>>
>>6075356
[Another issue might be that Theral is like 25, and Princess Miannie is some sort of immortal alien deity. Plus he worships her enemies, and the elves are worried about his influence growing....]

>>6075346
[I feel like I must be missing something with this plan, anon. Could you please clarify?]

>>6075365
[Given what a deviation this would be from Tips' established character, I'd need a pretty overwhelming majority to vote for this, to treat it as anything other than a bluff. Or is that the intent?]
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>>6075383
Yeah naturally the idea would be to get them to back down. What do they think would happen if war did break out, that Eka would side with them over her husband? They gotta be more realistic.
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>>6075387
I think there’s a difference between that and what you proposed
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>>6075530
Ok

>>6075278
As a counterpoint to plan total elf death, here's total elf appeasement

>Do you make any other preparations will you make for the talks ahead?
Clean out the demi plane.

>How will you convince the Sylvan Elves to coexist with the Dragon King?
Tell them we'll give them everything they need to guarantee victory if it comes to war.

>What concessions are you prepared to make, if any?
-Access to/Ownership of the demi plane.
-Agreeing to the final request they made of Eka, turning ourselves over to them and submitting to whatever punishment they deem appropriate.
-Teach them our <Final Revelation> spell.
-Anything else we can provide that they feel they would need if their suspicions about Theral prove true.
>>
>>6075365
>>6075537
[Which of these would you like e to count when I'm tallying the vote?]
>>
>>6075542
I thought we had 27 hours! I'm still spitballing here.
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>>6075545
[You do, never fear! Just make sure you clarify before the deadline.]
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>>6075346
>>6075365
I'll be honest I think both of these are kind of retarded. I don't really have an answer but I'll theorize a little.

>When is a worm not a worm?
Honestly I don't really know the answer to this question. The only way I can think of it is that worms are part of the natural order and serve a purpose as part of it, nourishing plants, and churning dirt. They're a vital part of the ecosystem, and are only hated because they look disgusting. When they're in the dirt doing their jobs they're just a part of the natural order and unnoticed. And frankly when you think about Old Maple hill's analogy about Worms and Cookies it's a pretty narrow one. Of course Worm's are going to be disgusting when you put them into cookies- that's not what they're made for. So I'd rather just reject the entire notion of worms being made into cookies.

So I guess an argument would be to point out the "Wyrms" and by extension the Reptilians deserve a chance to thrive and live. They were one of the original people's to have existed before the Gods of Light and the Elves came and are arguably more a part of the natural order than the elves are. It's just that the Gods of Light decided they wanted a "better" order. To judge and try to enforce on Hawksong by Elvish standards is unfair, just as it would be to use the archaic standards of the Dragon Kings of old to lord over the newer races.

I also think of what Eka said about the "resolution" of the De Gori and Houtzman beef

“It really is wonderful what people—even very different people—can achieve when cooler heads prevail and we approach these things with an open heart and a generous spirit. Isn’t that right?”

I think to get them to Co-Exist we just really need to stress that these are different people, with different morals, but still deserve a chance of Co-Existence and chance to determine their own fate.
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>>6075278
>Do you make any other preparations will you make for the talks ahead?
>>Pray to the Goddess Miannie

>Argument below:
>>6075552

>Concessions:
>>Our Return
>>Dissolution of House Yosef in name only to try to avoid prophesy
>>Non-aggression pact
>>+any concessions Theral's willing to give
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>>6075552
Alright let me make this a little less homosexual

>>6075278
Plan total Theral humiliation:

>Do you make any other preparations will you make for the talks ahead?
Before the meeting give Theral enough tranquilizers to put him just on the edge of unconsciousness

>How will you convince the Sylvan Elves to coexist with the Dragon King?
Tell them he's not a dragon. He's a fake. A poser. A wannabe. In fact, he will never be a real dragon. He has no natural flamebreath, no natural wings, only mammalian hair. He is a delusional lizard twisted by drugs and surgery into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the “validation” he gets is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind his back people mock him. His parents are disgusted and ashamed, his “friends” laugh at his ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
You've seen his lineage. Any true dragon blood in his veins has been weakened and watered down by years of crossbreeding. He's not even a pure lizard, human heritage has further polluted him into a stunted and pitiful creature. Even spiritually he is no dragon. Rather than let his captured child face the price of incompetence he sent multiple scouts and rescue squads to save them.
He will never be happy. He wrenches out a fake smile every single morning and tells himself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside he feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush him under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear – he’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around his neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. His subjects will find him, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury him with a headstone marked with his birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a lizard is buried there. His body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of his legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably not draconic.
This is his fate. This is what he chose. There is no turning back.
At this point we should turn and slap Theral across the face, then turn back to the elves and tell them how a real dragon would never let us get away with that. If Theral was a real dragon we'd already be dead. It's because he's not a real dragon that he's just gonna sit there and take it like a little bitch.

>What concessions are you prepared to make, if any?
Whenever Theral is getting too uppity, we'll give him another verbal beatdown.
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>>6075576
Nigga wtf
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>>6075272
>I think you have done a good thing with a bad thing - but good does not erase bad, even as bad can spoil good
>“If I were to bring you a delicious confection.. you would find it enticing, hm?”
>“And if I were to instead bring you a fistful of worms, would that be as appetizing?”
>You grimace a little, and shake your head.
>“And if I were to grind up those worms, mash them, and bake them into a cookie, what then? - Does the cookie become less appetizing because it’s full of worms?”
>“Obviously!”
>“But the worms do not become MORE appetizing just because they look like a cookie, do they?”

Cookies are comprehensible to the common folk as food - worms, in their ‘natural’ state, is not. If we ground up the worms so finely the batter becomes almost indistinguishable from normal batter, and without telling the persons eating that it is made of worms, it would be rather edible. That, or we reduce the amount of worms in the batter.

I’m not really sure of the viability of the two solutions I can find here; the bloodrise folk and Theral isn’t going to be so willing to assimilate with hawksong to such a degree they become the same. And reduction is… not feasible. Theral is just one guy - admittedly royalty - and there’s already enough difficulty here. I’m not really sure about how do we reduce it further.
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>>6075576
[Did you just paraphrase a YWNBAW meme as part of a strategy hinging on racially humiliating a previous quest's MC, as a means to avert war?]

I mean, shit, that's a pretty creative solution...
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>>6075628
Not just racial humiliation but genetic, social, mental, philosophical, and ancestorial humiliation as well.
I'd also like to amend my preparations - rather than use tranquilizers we can just cast a 5 mana Calm spell on him.
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>>6075576
dude just did a pasta, but tbf it's a fun way to try to convince them, even if I doubt they'd follow it
>>
>>6075383
>[I feel like I must be missing something with this plan, anon. Could you please clarify?]
Sure, what do you want clarified?

>>6075576
Just gonna be real with ya- Theral’s just gonna kill us, and go on a warpath if we commit to this write in. Can you please take this a bit more seriously?
>>
>>6075711
Please review the preparations section of the post, thank you.
>>
>>6075712
Yea- that’s gonna be the first thing that tips him over the edge into total war. You do know he was mind-controlled for a year near the end of of his quest, yea? He will go ballistic, assuming it even works on him.

So, again, can you please take this seriously?
>>
>>6075711
>Sure, what do you want clarified?
[Did you have something in mind for if:
>the personal mismatch
>the religious conflict
>the increase in power/status brought on by marrying Theral to a celestial deity
is brought up? If this one wins, or I incorporate part of it, I just want to know how to approach those objections o I don't need to drag it out across too any subvotes.]
>>
>>6075724
>assuming it even works on him.
Why wouldn't it?
>He will go ballistic
What's he gonna do, invade our demiplane? He doesn't have the expertise.
>>
>>6075727
Ultimately, it’s a political union for peace- personal mismatch would be unfortunate, but not relevant (even though I think Theral would be compatible, with the Moonsword and meditating). This is supposed to help resolve the religious conflict (though it may not)- really, keeping the Anti-Paladin out of play should be worth the power/status that brought him, since he’ll be the one ultimately dealing with the Dark God’s misgivings (and again, the Moonsword meditations and him solving those grievances does lean in favor of him potentially harmonizing the two sides into an uneasy peace, for the moment). Worse case for Theral, he gets disowned by his Dark Pantheon again and the Princess could just simply adopt him as a Moon Paladin, gaining another ally and kingdom. Really, Theral’s the one that has to dance politically here- if the Princess makes the deal enticing enough, it certainly goes a long way to neutralizing him from play, and maybe turning him to the ‘light’ side.

Really, lots of potential to work here- they just have to swallow their pride and be cunningly pragmatic.

>>6075731
He would have resistance to mind control/altering magics- like, he has excessive experience in dealing with mind altering/controlling shenanigans, not including the diadem of clarity (forgot what happened to that) and the literal Red Dragon Godking soul that can either assist him or use the opportunity to retake control of his body and return to the old ways (which means forever religious war).
>What's he gonna do, invade our demiplane?
He just might- he can cut a deal with the Beholder, and he would have the backing of the Sun Stealer and the Mother of Monsters, if sufficiently backed into the corner. And if Big Red ever regains control, we’re toast, demiplane or not.

Plus, you forget that he could exert political pressure as Prince-Consort on the Queen- and potentially the Archmage herself, who may see this as a wonderful opportunity to experiment and bring her way-ward apprentice to heel and permanently in her orbit.
>>
>>6075628
>>6075548
>>6075278
>>6075727
I'm a be real honest with Qm, i don't understand the sylvan council position. Or what their faction realistically hopes to accomplish.

They seem extremely war hawkish, But their geopolitical position and their military hand is pathetic.

The old maple 's response is especially confusing.

He is talking about "exterminating's the worms" like it is even feasible. Theral crushed the rabbit mask true fey who safe guarded hawksong outlying forests, and had him begging for his life after a trivial battle.

And the rabbit mask fey couldn't even challenge the green dragonborn whatso ever and had to abandon his forest to burn.

The dumb tree is talking about fighting both of them and a whole army on top of that, like he has an easy path to victory. (When I'm pretty sure Theral by himself could massacre the spriggan and his whole court single handedly.)
>>
>>6075803
And the elves behavior is also extremely weird, the leader of the elf rangers recognized that they are unlikely to receive aid from the eastern beastmen or the dwarves and that they are basically on their own. Hawksong is far larger and has significantly more powerful army, Hawksong forces would have been their only real hope in destroying the dragons but instead they have deliberately antagonized hawksong and threatened it's monarch whilst also demanding that it follow it's lead in any future war.

They seem borderline suicidal in their reasoning just looking at the forces on the ground.
>>
>>6075803
>>6075804
[Tips isn't exactly privy to every secret of the Sylvan Realms or the True Fey, but based on what he's been told, they believe that their subjugation or destruction is inevitable if they don't stop Theral and his relations from gaining power. As for the threat they present militarily against all of Hawksong's protectorate? Not much... But they're currently threatening to essentially expose Theral and Hawksong's heir as monsters, which would destroy their claim to rule and probably lead to an immediate civil war.]
>>
>>6075789
>He would have resistance to mind control/altering magics- like, he has excessive experience in dealing with mind altering/controlling shenanigans, not including the diadem of clarity (forgot what happened to that) and the literal Red Dragon Godking soul that can either assist him or use the opportunity to retake control of his body and return to the old ways (which means forever religious war).
First of all, Ez doesn't know about most or all of this, so making decisions based on it is metagaming.
Second, excessive experience dealing with it? More like excessive experience losing to it. He needed a physical attack and the help of an entire pantheon of gods to take his own body back after an entire year, and you expect me to believe he'll shake off a high mana spell in a few hours? Cmon.

>He just might- he can cut a deal with the Beholder, and he would have the backing of the Sun Stealer and the Mother of Monsters, if sufficiently backed into the corner. And if Big Red ever regains control, we’re toast, demiplane or not.
Wdym backed into a corner? We're insulting him, not invading Bloodrise. You think the Dark Gods are gonna step in because his feelings are hurt?

>Plus, you forget that he could exert political pressure as Prince-Consort on the Queen- and potentially the Archmage herself, who may see this as a wonderful opportunity to experiment and bring her way-ward apprentice to heel and permanently in her orbit.
The Archmage hates him though. If she was gonna do something like that she'd do it independently.
>>
>>6075552
>>6075553

I like this approach of “everything has its place” but also add in the benefits of >>6075789 (bloodrise and theral is just really useful as an asset)

>>6075553
I’m not sure what you mean by dissolution of house yosef in name only? Doesn’t Izzy not want to take up that mantle in the first place? We can assure the sylvan realms that’s not going happen to begin with.
>>
>>6075962
Anon, you’re whole response is magical drugging and insulting a head of state to his face, and pretending that there won’t be a diplomatic backlash. It’s extremely OC, and expecting this to be a workable solution is insane. All it takes is for the Dragonborn to be ‘fuck it, we ball’ for the Dark Pantheon to support him in his crusade against the Light Gods.

Like, I don’t understand what you expect to get out of this except total war.

>>6075552
I do like this response to Old Maple’s spirit btw.
>>
>>6076014
>Like, I don’t understand what you expect to get out of this except total war.
A VERY funny scene
More seriously, I don't understand why you think Theral is going to declare war over being insulted. Who would he even declare war on? The Sylvan Realms? We don't represent them, hell, they want to arrest us. Us? We're a singular individual and can just hole up in our demi plane. He's got no feasible way of breaking in, like I said the Dark Gods aren't going to help him over a 2 minute diss track and Henzler would plane shift him into the water realm instead.

If you're still so concerned maybe we should use the tranquilizers after all, or develop an amnesia spell. That way Theral won't remember.
>>
>>6075346 1 for apologizing and arranging a political marriage and trial (but a trial with no possibility of real consequences for Tips)

>>6075553 1 for an appeal on the basis of nature and/or morality, with a non-aggression pact and concessions including Tips' arrest and trial

>>6075576 1 to tranquilize and publicly humiliate The Dragon King of Bloodrise so the elves won't see him as a threat anymore

>>6075651 possible +1 to the humiliation plan?

>>6075978 possible +1 to the moral appeal w/ concessions plan

[Am I counting this correctly so far?]
>>
>>6075553
I +1 this

>>6076130
Yes
>>
>>6075553
going with this, sounds saner and tbf it's the only way we can try avoiding war
>>
>>6076130
Wait no, plan total theral humiliation was just a shitpost, I'd rather go with total elf death or total elf appeasement over that one

Ugh, I meant to pull together a good plan after exploring our options but I got distracted arguing for a ridiculous hypothetical.
>>
>>6075278
>>6076130
Ok plan rush to make it in before tallying:

>Do you make any other preparations will you make for the talks ahead?
>Pray to the Goddess Miannie
Sorry I murdered some elves, I plead oopsie daisy your honor

>How will you convince the Sylvan Elves to coexist with the Dragon King?
Tell them he's not really a dragon, but nicely. Point out his hair, his ancestry, the fact that he's almost half human. Bring up his non-draconic actions, the great lengths he was willing to go to for his son, the emotions he feels and bonds he forges. No matter what he calls himself he's not what they fought in the past.

>What concessions are you prepared to make, if any?
>Dissolution of House Yosef
>Turn ourselves in to their judgement
>Teach them our <Final Revelation> spell, as a last card to offer if they're not going for the rest.
>>
>>6075278
>Write-in your approach
>Ask Theral if swear non-aggression towards Sylvan realm if they sign and keep to a non aggression pact as well.

>Write-in if so
>Hand over the unseelie prisoners, offer the star and the demi plane to them.
>>
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>>6076223
>>6076214
>>6076189
>>6076161
>>6075553
>>6075346
[Alright, here we gooooo]
>>
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Rolled 20, 1, 3 = 24 (3d20)

>>6076238
As you await the arrival of the ‘Dragonborn Antipaladin’, you reflect on what Queen Ekaterine said of him: about his character, his priorities, but most of all his faith. How can the Gods of Evil command such piety from ANYONE, let alone Long Wang? Their dogma is one of selfishness, ruthlessness, and vicious cruelty… And yet they command his loyalty.

…It has been a long while since you prayed.

Oh, you have meditated to hone your mystic senses, and performed rites in honour of nature and the fairy court who share the Hill and frequent your Keep. But prayer, to the Gods Above? Not for many months—maybe for years. Not since you were accosted by Princess Yllarquin of the Three-Quarter Moon. Certainly not since you were driven out of your homeland by the Woodland Rangers. You’ve been telling yourself that this was out of righteous indignation—that you did nothing wrong, and owe no apology, nor fealty. They rejected you first, after all!

…But was that just foolish pride? Are you REALLY more egotistical than the lizardman going around calling himself ‘Dragon King’?

“Ugh.”

The night before the Prince Consort’s scheduled arrival is also, serendipitously, the night of a new moon—Divine Princess Miannie’s holy night, when her faithful share their secrets and seek her wisdom. You find yourself heavy with the former and light on the latter… And so, in a moment of weakness, and of clarity, you pray.

“Princess Miannie, of the black gossamer veil and the thin cared ring, who protects those who walk in darkness with bright hearts, please, hear me. Please… Hear my confession, and my apology.”

No answer comes, and your heart wavers. The shade of resentment shadows your own bright heart once more: why won’t she hear you out? How can she just ignore you, at this dark hour? Doesn’t she understand what’s at STAKE?!

You swallow it, and speak again, head bowed and hands outstretched:

“I have slain other elves,” you admit, “and destroyed my fellow fairies. I have eaten unconsecrated flesh of fish, and fowl, and beast. I have… I have dabbled with demons, and worked with the Forces of Darkness. I have shared sacred secrets of Feycraft with nonbelievers and outsiders, and defied the gods and their agents. And I… I am sorry.”

And you are. You ARE. You never set out to do those things, or at least not ALL of them. While you DO believe they were necessary, even beneficial, but if you could have found another way… A better way, a more peaceful way… You would have. You STILL want to do so. Looking to the future, as if a minasien, you see two paths: the one of struggle and strife, and the one of reconciliation and peace, and you WANT the latter.

“Just help me find a way,” you plead.

Religion check, DC 15
>>
>>6076251
Here I was worried until I remembered we always crit lol
>>
>>6076251
>20 and 1
classic tips
>>
>>6076270
>>6076274
>>6076251

>1
The dark, hidden face of Holy Luna gazes down at you across the black gossamer veil which covers it, like a mirror to your own troubled spirit—like Izirina’s eyes behind his shaded glasses, unreadable. You stare back, with such intense and heartsick longing that your own eyes begin to water, and to well with tears. The silence of the night swallows your hopes, and you bow your head again, and sob.

…But in the darkenss, a light.

>20

You loom up, startled, and see the disk of the moon’s sphere blink and shed tears of its own—tears of light, which fall in a steady stream that becomes a ray. It strikes the earth before you, and a luminous figure rises up and up: slender, fair, and taller than any Man or Elf, with unmatched poise and the deep, dark eyes of the ancient Fey.

Princess Miannie, patron of your clan.

You stare stupidly for a few moment, unable to believe she’s actually heard your prayer. When you are certain it is no desperate delusion conjured from your own spoiled dreams, you bow your head again, and rapidly murmur words of boundless gratitude.

He places a hand upon your head, bereft of your typical wizard’s cap. It feels like nothing to the touch, yet like EVERYTHING to the heart of you—everything you’ve been missing, since you renounced it.

“I never rejected you, Ezreal Mious Van Houtzmann,” she says. “You rejected us.”

“That’s not—!”

You stop yourself, biting back a defiant reply, and instead bow your head again, and take a deep breath… And nod.

“I did,” you admit, at last. “I thought… I thought I knew better. That my way was correct, and your way was wrong. I’ve… At times, I have allowed myself to become so consumed with knowing, understanding, and exploring, that I forgot to be humble before the majesty of nature and the cosmos… And before the elders and ancients.”

“And now you seek a path forward?”

You look up, and say truthfully: “I do.”

Princess Miannie smiles a small, sad smile.

“But how can we guide you, when you walk unseen in deepest darkness, where even I cannot reach?”

At first you think she means your actions, or your allies—that you’ve rendered yourself unforgivable, irreparably ‘Unseelie’. But then, you understand—truly understand.

“The <Final Revelation>,” you whisper.
>>
>>6076290
The Princess of the New Moon nods her shorn head, pale and round as the moon she calls hope, with her tall, thin ears’ curvature forming a thin halo atop it.

“We cannot see you, except by your distant ripples,” she says. “Your actions… Their consequences… They are beyond even our precognition, with all our power.”

You suppress a swell of sacrilegious smugness at the thought that your masterwork can stump even the High Magic divination-devices of Holy Luna, and instead ask: “Is that… Is that BAD? I mean… Isn’t it a good thing, to be free? To free us all from the dark futures which Nenaias and the Noth—and others predicted?”

“Ezreal… You are not free of the future,” she says softly, with an air of apology, as if breaking a cherished childhood conceit. You have weakened your connection to the weave of this realm, this universe. You have obfuscated your passage through it… But The actions you take still matter. Their consequences are no less profound. We simply cannot predict them any longer. Each step you take, takes you and the world further and further down a path uncharted. When we activated the array to amplify our divination, it was not without issue… But we did so that we might freely choose and chart a course which could bring us to a better world. But now?”

She regards you with an expression upon her fine features which you have never seen before in the goddess: fear.

“Each action you take shakes our certainty. We do not see darkness in your future, but nor do we see light. We see NOTHING. And the more involved you become—the wider your influence, and that of your descendants—the less certainty there is.”

You picture what she says—a dark miasma spreading across the span of space and time, blotting it out from even the understanding of ancient immortals who may well be more ancient than the world itself.

…And you still can’t help yourself.

“That doesn’t make it BAD,” you protest.

“It doesn’t,” she admits. “But how shall we know? When last we peered down your path, there lay ruin and tyranny. Shall we assume that has changed, the path cleared, simply because we can no longer see it?”

“Then guide me back!” you plead. “Tell me the way!”

“We cannot,” Princess Miannie apologizes. “You have ensured that. The only path forward which I see is…”

The Fairy Princess hesitates, but you already know. You understand.

“The clearest, safest path is the one which I don’t walk,” you realize. “where I’m… Not a factor.”

Where you’re dead, with no descendants… And Izzy, too?
>>
>>6076292

“Yes,” the Princess agrees sadly.

“And what if… What if I were to turn myself in?” you ask, unable to keep the desperation from your voice. “Submit myself for judgement? For imprisonment, if the Council sees fit?”

“We could never be sure you would not escape,” the Queen notes. “We cannot see you, Ezreal, but we are BLIND to you, not ignorant. When you and Rebecca Vaz-Yosef vanish from this world, we know that you are elsewhere—in a space which we cannot perceive.”

The <Demiplane>, in other words… Your wizard’s keep, with its network of tunnels, which you charted… Specifically to enable your escape, if the trial went poorly and you were detained.

“I wouldn’t…” you mumble, but can’t quite bring yourself to finish the sentence—to speak the lie.

“I will… I will find a way to make the wyrm not a wyrm,” you say instead, raising your voice and holding your head high “For the dragons and lizardmen and the others to fit into a kinder nature. A… A non-aggression pact, the total dissolution of House Yosef forever… MORE! I have the ear of the Queen, and I’m SURE that the Dragon King can be made to listen to reason. He’s not what you think he is. The future doesn’t need to be what Nenaias saw!”

“No,” she agrees. “It does not.”

…If you don’t exist. If you die. Or remain imprisoned.

Or remove yourself another way. Think, Tips, THINK!

“You can chart the future more clearly, where my influence doesn’t reach, right?” you ask, mind turning rapidly now. “If I’m not involved the... the fog, the darkness, it isn’t there?”

“It is so.”

“So if I make a promise—a REAL promise, a promise I KEEP—that keeps me from interacting with anything, or much of anything… Will you see the change, and know I mean it, and continue to mean it?”

The goddess watches you in expectant silence. If realize that this is your last chance to win her favour and blessing—and if you can do that, the Sylvan delegation will be utterly unable to deny you whatever terms you wish to set, without simultaneously defying the manifest will of the Gods Above.

>Pledge truthfully to remain imprisoned by the elves, wherever they would keep you, and to neither seek nor accept your freedom when negotiations conclude
>Promise truthfully to have no offspring nor heir with Izirina Henzler, nor to otherwise intermingle your bloodlines
>Make a pact of physical and spiritual suicide, for the good of the future
>Offer something else to remove yourself from the equation of this world [what?]
>Apologize one more time, for you cannot do what she asks of you
>>
>>6076294
>Offer something else to remove yourself from the equation of this world [what?]
The Final Revelation spell. Not to remove us, but to insert us back in. With knowledge of the spell they can tweak their array to work around it.
>>
>>6076292
so that algorithm of theirs can't see us anymore.

We're not killing ourselves for their sake, no. As for the imprisonment... she already said we have the means to escape it. A promise doesn't mean shit. The offspring thingy, might work? But with the way it is worded, even adoption seems to count, so that's pretty hard. I'm not sure if Veigar - Ayla counts as well.

>>6076294
>>Offer something else to remove yourself from the equation of this world [what?]
We do our future doings through someone else. We remain 'shrouded' but we use agents to do anything beyond this moment. The sylvan realms can monitor and judge them. Tips and Izzy will remain in an advisory role, like instructors. We stay at our star, at our demiplane or at the hill - but travel? No.
>>
>>6076324
also make an addendum we won't use final revalation on them, obviously.
>>
>>6076294
>Offer something else to remove yourself from the equation of this world [Our elven-ness]

Correct me if I'm wrong RQM but didn't the prophecy say that the child would be of eleven heritage? It would functionally mean losing our fey-craft, but ironically getting rid of our elven side could the thing reconcile to the Sylvan realm now. I'm sure there's some soul or some chimeric-ism shit we can do to accomplish removing our genetically elf aspect. I see this as better than being permanently imprisoned or making Izzy not have a kid even though she wants to.
>>
>>6076332
It also feels symbolically fitting. What would make ''Tips" (a named based on our pointy tree-hugger ears) not Tips? Not being an elf and not having those ears.
>>
>>6076332
>>6076334
[That WOULD technically break the prophecy, and you DO already know how to 'remove' or suppress specific biological and spiritual material, since that's how you 'purified' Zith-Zi and Izirina, and healed Costella and the other dragon-pox victims.]
>>
>>6076313
>>6076324
>>6076327

[I'll add that these are also both viable options, if I'm interpreting the top one correctly and you mean teaching the Moon Gods how to cast and remove Final Revelation at will.]
>>
>>6076356
Yup
>>
>>6076332
Supporting.
>>
I dunno guys, removing our elf juice seems like it might have similar effects as adding goblin juice to Veigar. Good chance of losing our fey spells and some max mana.
>>
>>6076515
Yeah but giving the gods our final revelation spell kind of mitigates the entire point of it and makes it useless. The gods will be able to see our every and the worlds move angain and influence it to be “better.” It turns our era of high magic from one where choice reigns supreme away from the guiding view of the gods back to the status quo again. We choose to believe we are our choices and I want to stand behind that.


Also it’s doesn’t really solve the issue of the prophecy either. We’d still technically be on the path towards the predicated ruin- but the gods would be able to see what THEY want us to do to avoid it. Which I doubt we’ll like very much.


I also don’t think we’ll lose all feycraft either given we have unseelie essence in us, probably just some.
>>
>>6076515
sure, but what else we can do to help they trust in us ? like >>6076521 said giving the spell not only defeats it's entire purpose, it doesn't solve the prophecy problem
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>>6076521
As long as everyone is aware of the risks. I thought we wouldn’t want to because we didn’t do it for Veigar, but I do recognize that this is more personal and not doing it would affect us rather than him.
>>
>>6076521
We're taking elf juice out. We have banelight juice in. We should remain feyflavoured.
>>
>>6076524
Well from how RQM said it would satisfy her just like the other options would, I think they’d stop bugging us about the prophecy if we do it. Even if that’s not the case I feel like they’ll be able to identify much less unpleasant solutions than eternal imprisonment or suicide with a more accurate prophecy. Plus we can always work on developing a new version of the spell. I also feel Tips would want to advance the field of magical knowledge rather than let the spell die with him.
>>
>>6076521
Yeah thats what I was concerned with too. It’s a stay of execution but we’re still letting them influence or force their school of thought onto us
>>
>>6076529
I dunno, I think in the past she explained that Unseelie were just elves who fell away from the pantheon, and were perhaps twisted by eons living in a dark Demi plane. Banelight juice might also need to be removed to be truly 0% elf.
>>
>>6076294
>you cannot do what she asks of you.

Begging these gods for a path to peace is incredible cringe, We are asking them to guide us when they themselves are brutal warmongers.

This request is just like their predator-less moon garden, they seek to genocide and annihilate any living creature that goes against their alien vision.

This moon alien is proclaiming that WE are an unsolvable problem. When thousands of her fey factions soldiers have essentially went awol and become marauding bandits?

When the crusade they declared against the dragon's culled 99% of the elves population and left the remainder as a divided and dying civilization. And a continuation of that war is about to break out?


That's just Tuesday and is of trivial importance. When a single half elf wizard shields himself from their divination? That's a immense calamity that cannot be tolerated. And the half elf in question needs to get rid of himself as soon as possible.
>>
How did Miannie hear our prayer if we slipped their senses?
>>
>>6076828

I assume Final revaluation spell made our presence extremely muted >>6076290 but the full moon + contacting her probably got through
>>
>>6076828
[They can't divine you, but prayer is... Well, one could think of it as a form of directed, broadcasted psychic communication, only possible with deities suited to your soul. Nobody hears the prayers of goblins, which is why they are fiercely antitheist as a rule Tips 'pinged' them, and even if they didn't know for sure where he was, checking the Old Maple Hill area for likely ritual groves a Sylvan disciple would pray in was obvious and well worth the effort, given the stakes.]

>>6076825
>>6076409
>>6076332
>>6076324
>>6076313
[Locked and writing!]
>>
>>6076871
“W-well I’m not going to kill myself,” you blurt out, before you can help yourself.

Princess Miannie looks genuinely startled for a moment, then smiles sympathetically.

“it’s an option, but not one I would have ever have asked of you, Child of Light.”

“Really?” you ask, your fear and anger fueling your bold streak, like a cornered rat before a lithe white cat. “Then why are there no predators on Holy Luna? And what became of the dragons of this world? I… I wish I had never had to kill, but it isn’t only UNSEELIE Fey who do that’s sort of thing, is it?”

The Princess of the New Moon frowns, and asks: “Is this what you have thought of us? Why you rejected us, Hero of Dappulyet? You think us… Murderers? Marauders?”

“Well Banelight and her warriors got their start somewhere,” you point out.

Princess Miannie is quiet for a while. When bravado fades, fear supplants fury. Did you go too far? And yet—as ever—you couldn’t help yourself. You had to KNOW.

“We… Did kill. We have killed. And I will not lie to you, Disciple… We may yet kill again.”

Your heart stops for a moment, seized by mortal terror as those huge, dark eyes gaze down at you… But then she shakes her head.

“But not you,” she says. “Never one who strives for peace, for freedom, and for the well-being of this world.”

“Then… then that priest who kidnapped Izirina henzler, and stole—retrieved—those berries… That wasn’t you?”

“…It was.”

“Then—!”

“With instructions not to kill either of you, and to harm you as little as possible,” the lunar deity adds, her soft voice effortlessly overriding your louder shout of outrage.

The words snuff out the flame of rebellion, and it is the chill of that traumatic winter which takes that fire’s place in your stomach.

“But… But they drew their swords.”

“Ezreal…” Princess Miannie reaches out again to cup your cheek. “They feared for their lives, as you did. They made mistakes, as you have. But you know the laws, don’t you?”

You do… As the Woodland Rangers did, if they perhaps forgot in that moment, with the terror of a Teir Five summoned elemental towering over them in the shape of an ancestral enemy. As the priest you cast <greater Disjunction> upon might have reminded them, had you not allowed Izirina to finish what you started, before he could recover. As all elves do. You know the law, the great law of peace:

Elves do not kill elves.

“It wasn’t always so,” the Princess says, as if she read your mind. “We made it so… For the sake of the future, for peace, and for a better world. A world… Better than the one we found here.”

Her voice takes on a grave sorrow, and she adds: “Better than the one we came from. I sometimes fear we've failed, but we have not surrendered, nor should you do so."
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>>6076898
You take a moment to recover from this. You tremble, and feel as if you knees might give out and, after that, as if you might fall to the earth below and crumble into dust. But how were you to know? How could you know for SURE? What else could you have done, duner the circumstances?

“It… It doesn’t matter,” you mutter, and force yourself to look up and to meet the gaze of the divinity before you once more. “Please, hear me now: I’ve made mistakes, but if you allow this war to proceed… That will be a far greater mistake. Humans will die… And reptilians, reptilians that can still be better than they are! And others… Elves perhaps especially. You must KNOW that the Sylvan Realms won’t survive another great war, as it is now!”

“Our predictions—those we can still put any faith in—show many such dark futures… But so, too, some which luminesce with light and love, Child.”

“Predictions,” you mutter. “They’re a gamble, aren’t they? And educated guess? Like forecasting weather that’s always changing, even with all your advanced magical devices. It’s gambling with lives!”

“It is,” she admits.

“You would do that?” you demand.

“I… Would not, if there were another option,” she admits.

And so, in that expectant silence, it comes back to this. Even as you try to reclaim your half-forsaken faith, and grapple with the revelation of your lethal miscalculation, your antipathy for prophecy remains undeterred. If anything, the knowledge that all these conflicts were brought about over a couple predictions has made you all the more eager to avoid them—to divorce yourself from divination’s cruel calculus. You cannot, WILL not, give the secret of <Final Revelation> to the Bonum Chaoticum, as much as you revere them. Nor can you withdraw from the world, and live as a hermit, as Izzy might suggest. You have friends, aspirations, a life! And what would such a thing mean for Izzy, let alone bubbly COSTELLA? Abandoning them? Forcing them to dwell in isolation with you?

You run your fine fingers through your raven hair grabbing a handful of it in exasperation. What is the answer?!

And then, as your fingers find your ears, you find your answer.

When is a worm nor a worm, or a wyrm not a wyrm? How can you avoid a prophecy of an elven descendant of Izirina Henzler who brings destruction or dark domination, but still keep your promise to her, to make her a mother? How can you remove your threat, and atone for your actions?

“When is ‘Tips’ not ‘Tips’?” you ask, as you idly tap the sharp points for which you were nicknamed, when first you came to Hawksong all those years ago.
>>
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>>6076899
“Ezreal… Are you certain?”

The goddess sounds concerned, almost heartbroken. Ha, shouldn’t YOU be? And yet… you’re not. Not entirely. You love your elven heritage, and your homeland… But the women you love are both human. Your father, once estranged but no longer, is a Man. And this… This is the best solution.

You wipe the tears from your eyes, and to your surprise you barely need to force the smile as you say:

“Elves don’t kill elves… But I’m not really an elf, am I? Not exactly.”

That night, beneath the New Moon, you and your divine ancestor, creator of your mother’s kind and patron of your mother’s clan, perform a ritual not unlike your <Rite of Attunement>—a <Rite> you’re not sure you will be able to perform the same way again, in the future, with. You sing a complex melody—of sadness, of farewell, but also of safe travels and wonderful new places just beyond the horizon.

The chalk white leaves your skin, which takes on its old, pinkish pallor once more.

The inky black leaves your eyes—or so you assume, for you can’t exactly see them.

You feel your limbs lengthen, and thicken, as your clothes grow tight. They’ll need retailoring, at this rate… A good excuse to visit Nicolette Testa, at least.

Your senses dull a little. Your movement grow more clumsy. The fairy-goddess offers you her hand, and guide you onwards… And guides, eventually, the very soul out of your body. You watch as she shapes it, malleable and ephemeral, with an intense focus, and strips something away—something gauzy, which you can barely see. You stand still, and she dances with this shadow of you, this shade of what you were, and then releases it skyward like a bird, to flutter away to some realm beyond the here and the now.

It goes, and all that’s left…

>-2 Max MP
>+2 DC to all Feycraft spells

…Is you.

You reach up, to touch your ears. Your round, ‘tipless’ ears.

“There,” you say, and your voice sounds brittle even to your ears. “it’s… It’s over. I’m not… I’m really not an elf anymore.”

Princess Miannie hugs you. It’s a strange sensation—weightless, formless, and yet warm, and full of love, and forgiveness. It’s made stranger because, without <Faerie Fire>, you can’t even see the shape of the deity embracing you—not with human eyes.

“You will always be a Child of the True Fey, Ezreal Mious of Dappulyet.”

+1 Religion
+1 Dance

But dawn comes, and night fades and the New Moon vanishes from the sky. The Goddess’ touch goes with it. You are alone.

“Right,” you say, and adjust your tunic.

You start the walk back to the Hill proper. It will take you time to re-master <Wildshape> or <Improved Aethereal Form>, after all.
>>
>>6076899
When you return to Old Maple Hill, Izzy and Costella are surprised, to say the least.

“I can’t believe that… That BITCH made you DO that!” Izirina exclaims, surprising you with the uncharacteristic vulgarity.

“Izzy,” you chastise her. “That’s sort of my patron deity you’re insulting.”

“W-well, I mean—”

You laugh and take her hand.

“It was my choice,” you say, sincerely and seriously. “We’re nothing, if we’re not our choices.”

“You took that rather literally,” she says sourly.

“Well, like… I’m gonna’ be honest with you, Ez: of the two makeovers you’ve gone through these last few months, I think I like this one a little more!”

You look up at Costella, not sure how to take that, only to be blindsided as she grabs your face in both hands and plants a long, enthusiastic kiss on your lips, then stares at you with eyes full of love—love that has never wavered, but perhaps has been tested at times by circumstance.

“I can see your eyes again,” she pints out. “like, SEE see them. They’re not all… Spooky. And you always had such pretty eyes…”

Izzy leans in and, to your embarrassment, takes a long, deep whiff of your scent. She seems to mull it out, as if sampling the bouquet of a fine wine… And then nods.

“You still smell like you, too,” she concludes. “Different… But like you.”

“Oh, good, I’m glad,” you harrumph, flustered and a little annoyed. “what, would you have dumped me if I didn’t?”

“Of course not!” Izirina exclaims, and then her expression shifts. “but I might not have beem AS eager to do this…”

“Do wh—aah!”

Fire Plane-warmed hands slip down inside your moon-made trousers. You instinctively kick your legs at the sudden intrusion, only to feel the press of Costella’s breasts against your back, as her surprisingly-strong arms hold you still, in a loving (and unbreakable) embrace.

“H-hey, wait, I’m—Oh! W-woah… Izzy, I didn’t… Wow!”

“You’ve done something, like, really great or everyone else, Ez… For the world, and for us.”

Costella’s voice is breathy in your ear, and her grip tightens as her hands roam your body, and she watches Izrina’s head and hands moving between your legs.

“Let us do this for you… And show you just how much we’ll ALWAYS love you.”

(Well, what red-blooded human male could argue when they put it like THAT?)
>>
>>6076908
The two delegation arrive on roughly the same day: the one from Bloodrise, followed only hours later by that from the Sylvan Realms.

The Dragon King comes calling in the form most suited to this realm, where he reigns as consort to the Queen: Long Wang, allegedly-eastern adventurer, with his tawny (but not scaly) skin, greenish almond eyes, and his red-orange hair tied back in a braid, wearing oriental armour and with a silk-sheathed scimitar on his hip. He brings with him some familiar faces, even if one is initially unrecognizable: ‘The Thief’, today in the guise of a human man (like you), and Azonia the Drow duelist, dressed in somewhat less-gaudy fashion than usual, if no less imposing with her proudly-puffed chest and deadly, pantherine grace. Others join him also: dark elves from Wevenore, and ark-eyed dwarves from who-knows-where, and even an unsettling Southman, nearly as black as the Drow but of a browner hue, grinning a too-eager grin and with a bow upon his back. If you didn’t know better—and you don’t, actually—you’d think they were here for battle.

The Sylvan Realms sends a no-less-formidable delegation, in fairness. There is Commander Kiirion Qinfir himself, the leader of the Woodland Rangers and a member of the Council of Elders—one you befriended… And, from his perspective you suppose, betrayed, with his fair hair, fine features, and old, grey eyes looking harder and more ancient than ever. With him, he brings what you assume from their flowery regalia and plumed hats to be especially decorated lieutenants of his Rangers. So too does he bring priests: one wearing a sun-rayed half-mask and a robe lined with golden fleece, and another… Another who you recognize instantly even by descriptionas Clanirae, the Moon Priestess of Dappulyet. Other minor noble come, with blades and bows of ceremonial importance but also lethal capability…

And Nenaias, the ‘minasien’ prophet-sage, whose divinely-guided predictions, tortured past, and hatred for the Prince Consort provoked so much suffering for you and others.

Everyone knows what you’re all here for, and Queen Ekaterien—also here, of course—has surely briefed her not-so-secretly serpentine spouse on the plans. But is he on board? How can you know, when his face is a mask, and his body language so inhuman—an unelven—as you be almost unreadable at times?

Do you visit either delegation before the meeting?
>The Bloodrise Delegation
>The Sylvan Delegation
>Neither [skips to negotiations]

Where will the negotiations be held?
>The Royal Palace
>Old Maple Hill
>Your Demiplane
>Write-in
>>
>>6076919
>The Bloodrise Delegation

>Old Maple Hill
>>
>>6076919
>Neither [skips to negotiations]

we don't want to seem favor one side over the other.

>Your Demiplane

We shouldn't hold the meeting in a place where people could be eavesdropping.
>>
>>6076935
>we don't want to seem favor one side over the other.
[Both is also an option, but keep in mind meeting with them can improve OR worsen things.]
>>
>>6076919
>The Bloodrise Delegation

>Old Maple Hill
>>
>>6076919
>Neither [skips to negotiations]
I’d rather keep it as neutral as it can be.

>The Royal Palace

We’re not staying in the demi-plane. That sort of space is too valuable to reveal. The old maple hill is… an option, but I’d rather have Ekaterine’s guards and food on stand-by. Last thing we need is to offend the sylvan attendees by offering the moonberries we took from the moon to them

>>6076324
>>
>>6076919
>Sylvan
>Demiplane
>>
>>6076975
the forces of darkness already know about the demi-plane. Ayla saw it and had been spying on us even after she left. And Ayla is a disciple of the beholder god so he knows as well.
>>
>>6076919
>The Bloodrise Delegation
>The Sylvan Delegation
Meeting with both would be nice- with both Long Wang and Mother.

>Your Demiplane
But I’m willing to switch if convinced
>>
>>6076995
>Mother
[Tips' mo isn't there. Priestess Clanirae was is the eladrin who lives beneath the Dappulyet elves' sacred site. His mom is nobody important, and wouldn't be invited on a mission like this.]
>>
>>6076919
>>The Bloodrise Delegation
>Old Maple Hill
>>
[I'll try to get an update out soon, but I am quite ill and may also have heat exhaustion. Apologies for any delay!]
>>
>>6077551
Stay well and make sure you get plenty of hydration QM, this heatwave is absolutely ruthless.
>>
>>6077551
Take your time. Heat related exhaustion is annoying as hell. Don’t transition from one really cold place to hot too quickly.
>>
>>6077621
>>6077629
[Thank you for the kind words! Feeling a bit better after a long nap by a blasting AC unit.]

>>6076921
>>6076935
>>6076956
>>6076975
>>6076983
>>6076995
>>6077043
[We have a tie as to where to host the talks, so >>6076975 may wish to change that vote. For now, that remains open. In the meantime...]
>>
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>>6077637
When you receive the reports of the two parties’ arrival, you’re initially unsure whether to visit either. Your fear is that the party you don’t visit will perceive favouritism in the choice, and be less-inclined to hear you out.

“Then why not visit both?” Costella suggests.

Oh, if it only it were so easy! But there is another concern: what if the preliminary discussions grow heated? After your discussion with Princess Miannie of the New Moon, you can’t really imagine that the Sylvan delegation would attempt to KILL you, even if you’re technically no longer an elf… But capturing you, and wielding you like leverage over Hawksong and Bloodrise in some way.

You fully intend to submit yourself to their judgement… But once peace is secured, not beforehand.

“I’d save you,” Izirina says, matter-of-factly.

“Not the point.” You sigh, and then despite yourself, you smile. “But thanks, Izzy…”

With both her powers and yours reduced as of late, COULD she? Maybe. But it is as you said: that isn’t really the point. You don’t’ want to put yourselves in a position of potential struggle with the Sylvan Elves again, while tensions are so high.

“Then… Neither?” pivots Costella.

Again, it would be nice if it could be so… But it cannot. This is mostly because, for all your bold speechifying to the goddess, you don’t COMPLETELY trust the Dragon King of Bloodrise. Oh, you don’t believe the lizardman to be pure evil by any means… But you know that he has beat the drums of war before, and that he serves enigmatic and malevolent forces. What you don’t understand is WHY, if he has the nobility of spirit his human wife attests, he would do so… Nor do you know his expectations or ambitions, in relation to these talks.

On some level you know the Sylvanfolk, because you are OF the Sylvanfolk, whatever shape you are. To create a lasting peace, though, you must know Bloodrise, and its reigning regent.

“Ah, the Archmage’sss Apprenticce. How nicce to ssee you again.”

The deep and oily voice of the Prince Consort suits his human guise. He is tall, broad-shouldered, square-jawed and yet always seems cooly calm—unthreatened, undeterred. He is every bit the ‘barbarian hero’ of some tawdry broadsheet bodice-ripper. When you find him in the familiar confines of his wife’s palatial estate, he occupies them like a conquering king, at repose in his domain.

(Though, you silently note, he is meeting you in the quarters reserved for honoured guests, rather than for the Royal Family themselves…)
>>
>>6077638
The draconic monarch's attendants are rather more ill-at-ease than their master, and somehow even more out-of-pace. There is a taller-than-average, broadly-build halfling clad in black leather, hands clasped behind his back and eyes shadowed, who looks you up at down with a lingering, unsettling intrigue. There is The Thief, of course, occupying a new identity; at least, you assume it is he, for he’s the only Northman in the group, and you’d been told to expect him in such a guise. He greets you with a silent nod of recognition, which you return after a moment. And there is that Azonia elfmaid, and the coil-haired Southman archer you’d been told to expect.

“Greetings, Prince Consort,” you say with a small bow of your head. “Thank you for responding.”

“Iss it not my duty, asss befitsss my title?” Prince Long Wang asks, ith a too wide grin. “When a threat comess sslinking out of the shadowss of the foresstsss, it iss the duty of thisss realm'ss defenderss to sspring to the defenccce of their realm.”

With some mysterious amusement, he adds: "I believe I ssswore an oath to that effect, in fact."

You bristle a little at the characterization of the elven delegation in such terms, mentally noting it as… Well, not the best sign.

“What hass become of you, though?” The Prince Consort leans forward, narrowing his gaze. You catch the quick flicker of some inner membrane, sliding sideways across his otherwise-human eyes, and he adds: “An illusion? No… If it wass, shouldn’t there be MORE magic? You have… Lesss.”

“A sacrifice, made for peace,” you say stiffly.

The Prince Consort leans back, and clucks his tongue in disapproval.

“The elvesss did thiss thing to you?”

“Not exactly,” you say, then stop short. “Sort of. How much has your wife… The Queen… Told you? About the reasons for the Sylvan Realms’ specific demands?”
>>
>>6077639
“You mean to sssay your captivity, the disssolution of House Yossef? That my own wife declare WAR upon myssself and my people, to crush usss while our kingdom isss in itss infancccy?”

He works his jaw as if chewing air, and his smooth tone taking on a dangerous rumble, like the tremulous omen of an imminent eruption

“It isss truly outrageousss! I do not fully underssstand their reasson for thesse SSSPECCIFIC demandss. I pressume it mussst be in part a punishment aimed at you and the Archmage’sss ‘daughter’, for coming to my aid, and that of my sson. You have my gratitude, and condolenccess… And my promisse that these hypocritical, ssself-sssatisfied INVADERSS will never again threaten Hawksssong or Bloodrisse… My family, nor yoursss!”

You grimace a little at his warlike tone, but make a mental note that, by the way he speaks. 'My family, nor yours?' Not 'our family'? It seems Queen Ekaterine has not (yet?) communicated the full scope of the prophecies, of Izirina’s bloodline and yours intermingling with his, to bring about some threat to all the world. Nor have the Dark Gods, you presume… Which is peculiar. Why would they not tell their ‘Antipaladin’, their chosen champion, something so important?

Your contemplation are interrupted as the Dragon King rises, and looms over you. His eyes flit to your shoulder. With a sudden and jerky motion that is plainly unnatural to him, he places a heavy hand upon your shoulder.

“You have come to sspeak with me for a reasson,” he correctly intuits. “Ssspeak it. I am lissstening.”

What exactly is it you mean to say to the Dragon King, or ask of him? Given his posture on this matter, you can’t imagine he will approve of your intentions: to submit yourself for summary judgement, to permit them to dissolve House Yosef to prevent a shared descendant from ever becoming head of that house, and to genuinely petition for a mutual pact o non-aggression. How will you make him see the light, though? If you can’t, this fiery-tempered lizard-king could ruin the talks!

Do you tell him of the concessions you have already decided to make?
>Yes
>No

Do you tell him to whole of the prophecy?
>Yes
>No

How will you convince The Copper Dragon King of Bloodrise to walk the path of peace?
>Talk up the dangers of the Sylvanfolk and the Bonum Chaoticum
>Downplay their threat, and suggest that he really needn’t be worried about them
>Offer him an incentive if he avoids escalation [what?]
>Appeal to his better angels [how?]
>Write-in

Are there any other concessions you would ask of him, aside from a pact of mutual non-aggression?
>Come into the light, and fold Bloodrise into Hawksong’s aegis and authority
>Renounce the Gods of Darkness, and convert to some other (less evil) faith
>Permit you to biologically and spiritually modify his and Ekaterine’s child
>Write-in

Do you have anything else to ask him, related to the peace talks or otherwise?
>Write-in
>>
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>>6077637
In that case, Old Maple Hill, then.

>>6076993
They know of it, but I don’t want to give any of them a thorough exploration of that place. Seeing a part of it and being led into it is a whole different level of knowing.

I am >>6076975
Pic rel
>>
>>6077641
Ugh, this is why I wanted to talk to the elves instead, and not have him here to begin with

>No
>No
>Appeal to his better angels [how?]
Eka will be much happier this way. She doesn't want Hawksong plunged into civil war.
>>
>>6077661
why not tell him about the prophecy ? also there's no way we could do all this without the prince here
>>
>>6077676
>why not tell him about the prophecy
Why tell him?

>No way we could do all this without him here
Why not? What have we accomplished that his presence was pivotal for?
>>
>>6077641
Do you tell him of the concessions you have already decided to make?
>Yes
Concessions Ekaterine, Izzy, and us HAVE made. Be very clear about that - we’re hurt pretty severely by this agreement. We don’t like it either.

Do you tell him to whole of the prophecy?
>Yes
Nenaias tried to kill us.
Their rangers tried to kidnap Izzy. Also tell him their deaths is why they want us trialed.
Be very, very careful of them.

How will you convince The Copper Dragon King of Bloodrise to walk the path of peace?
>Offer him an incentive if he avoids escalation [what?]
Our unseelie star’s passage. We have hidden passages which led to the outskirts of the sylvan realms. Any aggression, any more cloak-and-dagger activity on their part that threatens us, we can invade them through there. In a war, we will have the advantage.

We will permit them to use it only for this reason.

(We promised the spriggan never to attack or conquer unprovoked - not in retaliation to an attack.)

As for the unseelie, if he does ask, Banelight is dead after she tried to kill Izzy. It is literally the truth.

Are there any other concessions you would ask of him, aside from a pact of mutual non-aggression?
>Write-in
In the event Tips is taken to the sylvan realms and unable to return for any reason, ask him to send someone to

1) watch over Costella Fannucci - especially from the carlos family but her own father as well. They might try to take advantage of her or force her into a marriage with someone she does not like.
2) watch over Izzy - to prevent the sylvan realms from taking her again

Am >>6076975
>>
>>6077830
I'll give you my support
>>
>>6077661
>>6077830
>>6077975
[Rather short on votes for this, compared to the last few. I'll leave it open another hour, then write.]
>>
>>6077641
>No

>Yes

>Downplay their threat, and suggest that he really needn’t be worried about them

>Come into the light, and fold Bloodrise into Hawksong’s aegis and authority
>>
>>6077830
>+1
although I'm uncertain about telling him about the secret passages altright
>>
Rolled 2, 8, 4, 16 = 30 (4d20)

>>6078101
>>6078028
>>6077975
>>6077830
>>6077661
You resist the urge to shrug the lizardman’s hand from your shoulder. A part of you bristles at the contact. Perhaps it’s instinct—Men have been as preyed-upon by his race as have Elves. Peace must start somewhere, though, and so you swallow your discomfort and meet his coldly-curious gaze.

“I wish… That is to say, both Queen Ekaterine and I, we BOTH wish… For peace.”

“Peaccce,” he hisses, with a sniff. “Peacce comess from ssuperior sstrength. Ssometimess, it coemss only when thosse who sstand in itss way are… PREVENTED from doing sso any longer.”

You shiver a little at his tone, at the certainty in his voice… At the eagerness with which his hand settles upon the blade upon his hip. Whatever ‘better angels’ the Dragon King might play host to, it is obvious that the dark ambitions which the minasien and the Gods Above feared also nestle comfortably within his chest, like a viper laying in wait. But how to dissuade the snake from striking?

“I agree.”

The warrior of darkness does a double-take at that, surprised at your easy acquiescence. He looks down at you questioningly, awaiting clarification. You take a deep breath, and cast your bait:

“The reason the elves of Iternagreyn want me so badly is… Well, a prophecy.”

“My Queen had mentioned ssomething of the ssort,” the Pricne Consort admits, though by tehw ay he trails off expectantly, you feel confident that you were correct—that Queen Ekaterien has NOT told him much more than that.

So you do.

You tell the Dragon King of that which the elven sage predicted, of what the Gods of Light and the Council of Elders have come to fear: that Bloodrise and Hawksong will give rise to a tyrant king, a true Dragon King like in the days of old, who will raze the lands of his enemies and sit atop a throne of bones to rule the world which remains with an iron fist… Or steely talons, perhaps. That this figure—apocalyptic, all-consuming and all-controlling, will arise when his bloodline and Izirina’s coincide…

“And mine as well,” you add, keeping in confidence only those measures—those concessions-which you have already taken to prevent this.

“Fasssccinating,” he rumbles.

He rubs his spiky, reddish beard as he stares at you—through you, to this distant descendant. He does not smile, but you can see it in his eyes, in his posture: you have him. ‘Fascinating’ indeed—the Dragon King has been fascinatED! His acolytes, too, seem enamoured with this vision of inevitable ascent and worldwide empire.
>>
>>6078119
“It’s just like you said, Master!” says the stout halfling in black leather “A New Age of Darkness, a world united under a new order!”

“Indeed it isss,” he agrees enthusiastically. “Did I not say so? Even the Falsse Godsss recognize our inevitability!”

The cheerful atmosphere in the room is, ironically, deeply discomfiting to you. You pretend it is not, and nod along.

“Which is why we can’t have a war now,” you say.

All eyes are again upon you, and the thick air of enthusiasm starts to thin.

“Exxxplain,” the Prince Consort commands.

“If we play our cards right—ah, sorry, that is a human aphorism, I mean—”

“I know what cardsss are,” Prince Long Wang notes dryly.

“R-right.” You clear your throat. “well… If we do what we need to do, if we forestall the conflict that THEY want, on THEIR terms, here and now when your kingdom is, as you said, in its ‘infancy’… Down the line, they’ll just fall to our descendant. They’ve admitted as much!”

The disguised ‘dragon’ digests this interpretation, drumming his fingers rhythmically upon his sword’s hilt. He again works his jaw and tilts his head, reminding you simultaneously of some sunning lizard or a confused dog. You pointedly do not laugh.

“And how do we know they will not sseize upon thisss opportunity, if we show weaknessss now, and ssomehow avert thiss propheccy? If we ssecure oursselvess, and crush those who sseek to sstp usss…”

You shake your head, and insists: “No! War on the Sylvan Realms… It’s pointless, and it can only disrupt the predictions the sages have made! The prophecy that shows you winning—our grandchild or, or WHOEVER winning—isn’t one that includes a war against the elves here and now.”

You’re lying, of course. Embellishing, rather. The predictions you were privy to didn’t specify what might happen, between the here and now. Even if they did, you’re actively trying to avoid bringing about that dark future which you’ve sold these dark men and monsters on—may have already done so, in fact. But you just need him to believe it… Believe it until the peace deals are made, until you are (safely?) in elven captivity for your trial.

You hold his gaze…

>16
>vs DC 15/18/20…

…And the Dragon King blinks first.

“Ass you wish,” he sighs. “I know that the path to a better future isss rarely a simple or sstraightforward one.”

You release your held breath, and let your squared shoulder slump.

>Partial success

“But I mussst confesss my missgivingss.”

(Fuck!)

“O-oh?”
>>
>>6078138
“If you subject yourssself to the ‘jusssticce’ of the elvess… And their lauded mercccy iss found wanting, asss it SSO often hass across the aeonss… What guarantee do we have that we can sstill ssave you, and thuss our future?”

“Well, um, I guess… I guess you could sue your Unseelie allies’ tunnels, right? Like you did to extract your son, the ‘Unknowable Prince’?”

“I could,” the Dragon King agrees, with a dangerous smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Except that you dessstroyed them.”

(Oh fuck oh shit oh—)

“I can explain!”

“You don’t need to.”

You close your mouth, confused.

“It was an alliancce of mutual convenienccce,” the Dragon King admits, with a wide shrug. “They had no love for our peoplesss, nor we for them. In time, maybe we could have… Well, it isss no matter. Hisstory swallows the weak, that the truly ssstrong might fill the gapsss. Their chaosss was a poor fit to the new order we BOTH sseem to desire for thiss world, yesss?”

“Y-yes,” you say, uncertainly.

“Sstill, if you wish for me to ssign onto thiss peacce, for the promissse of future glory, I will need ssome assuranccce beyond the divinationss of an enemy. I have heard ssuch distant predictionsss before, from those my racce call ‘The Sserpent Priessthood’. ‘When the ssstarss are right,’ they would always tell us, ‘we will rissse again!’ Yet the sstarss are fickle thingsss. It came to me, to USSS, to take their alignment into our own handss!”

(‘Or claws,’ you suppose, inwardly.)

Damnit, you were so close! And, in truth, you still think you can salvage this. The cold-blooded consort wants ‘assurances’? Well… You can give him them, can’t you?

>You tell him of the secret tunnels, which Izzy can access and lead his spies (or troops) through to retrieve you
>You promise to sire an heir before you leave, that the prophecy (as you’ve selectively described it) will proceed true no matter what else happens, and you appoint this creature their godfather
>Write-in
>>
>>6078139
Oh, and...
If this is a bluff or lie, specify, but remember that Theral has a pretty good chance to sense deception
>>
>>6078139
>You promise to sire an heir before you leave, that the prophecy (as you’ve selectively described it) will proceed true no matter what else happens, and you appoint this creature their godfather
I mean, it should be safe now that we've removed our elfness.
>>
>>6078139
>I have a clone out somewhere that could fulfill the prophecy if we die.

I’d rather not have our child be subjected to being the godson of a sociopathic (kind-of) antipaladin of the dark gods. This is kind of throwing Veigar under the bus a little but I doubt they’ll be able to find him given his divination-exclusion. And I think Ayla’s crafty enough to get herself and Veigar out of dodge in most situations. It’d only really be a problem if the Elves imprison us anyways, which is unlikely to happen thanks to our deal with the goddess.
>>
>>6078160
And Veigar can’t even fulfill the prophecy anyways.
>>
>>6078160
It is kinda worrying, but I figured it would be safe as both Izzy and Costella would need to die/be indefinitely absent for him to get custody. We can also tell the elves about it as an incentive for them to make sure nothing happens.
>>
>>6078139
>You promise to sire an heir before you leave, that the prophecy (as you’ve selectively described it) will proceed true no matter what else happens, and you appoint this creature their godfather
revealing our ace or creampieing Izzy (and Cossy) ? trully a hard decision. jokes aside, while there's the problem of Theral being their uncle, Izzy can escape him easily.
btw rentry is your friend if this wins, OP.
>>
>>6078160
+1 to clone
AND
>You tell him of the secret tunnels, which Izzy can access and lead his spies (or troops) through to retrieve you
In the event we are unable to find them

I’d rather not subject izzy to pregnancy and childrearing on her own — we have gotten rid of our elveness but we’re still unsure of how much the sylvan folk will commit to listening to the moon goddess as well.

am >>6077830
>>
>>6078165
Can he not? iirc in the last thread there was like a revaluation about how we are our souls or something?
>>
>>6078294
[More accurately, Tips and Izzy came to the conclusion that what are typically called 'souls' are separate entities which are grafted onto living organisms by the gods, to influence their individual and group development in certain ways, and which sometimes preserve certain aspects of them for the gods' purposes after their death. Unbeknownst to either of them, their clones Ayla and Veigar figured out how to craft a soul to their own specifications, which Veigar used to (among other things) give himself a MP pool to cast from and a means to use Elementalism again.]
>>
>You promise to sire an heir before you leave, that the prophecy (as you’ve selectively described it) will proceed true no matter what else happens, and you appoint this creature their godfather
>>
>>6078301
Doesn’t sound like it would work for the prophecy then, shit.

If Tips doesn’t know it doesn’t work, I’ll back this & secret tunnels option
If he does, just the tunnels.

I really don’t like the sire heir right now option. That is going to complicate things; with costella and her family, with izzy and archmage, and in the event we cannot return home, its just a hassle for everyone, and now if we do return, its a dragonborn antipaladin final thread moment - that kind of fracture in a relationship, like Ekaterine and Theral’s? I dont want that.
>>
>>6078160
>You tell him of the secret tunnels, which Izzy can access and lead his spies (or troops) through to retrieve you

>I have a clone out somewhere that could fulfill the prophecy if we die.


I’ll add the tunnels to my vote too because I think making Theral our kids godfather is absolutely retarded. There are so many ways it could go wrong that I honestly think it’s more likely to go wrong than right for our kid. I don’t want him to be an influence on our kid and I doubt Izzy will either. It’s not about custody, it’s about not having him around at all as an influencing factor at imagine.


Imagine being a little kid and there’s a hypnotically powerful KING telling you you’re going to be the ruler of the world. You just need to follow the darks gods. It could very easily happen that he ends up converting.
>>
>>6078434
if you're suggesting throwing Veigar under the bus as a garantee for Theral, why also reveal the tunnels for him ?
>>
>>6078434
Your acting like god father means he'll own the kid. God father just means he'll watching over him.

And if we do get imprisoned in the sylvan realm i would much rather uncle Theral look out for our kid. Than grandma archmage henzel taking over. (Izzy still seems to fear her and depend on her for validation.)

Henzel serious messed up izzy's social development, her self worth and her perspective on normal people. Theral on the other hand actually seems to have been a positive influence on his potentially cannibal monster sons.
>>
>>6078465
I’m saying either or I just don’t want godfather to win. Not both.

>>6078478
Yes. I don’t want Theral watching over him. And this isn’t a question of who’s a worse caretaker should we die, we’re practically guaranteed to succeed with the elves thanks to our deal with their god. This is a matter of Theral is going to be a terrible corrupting influence to our child with HUGE incentive to try to corrupt our child as much as possible thanks to the prophecy. He will actively have every incentive in the word to undermine us and Izzy when it comes to our child.


And let’s be real here Tips and Izzy are socially awkward and emotionally scarred. It would be easy for a sociopathic Theral to manipulate the kid even with us watching over them. Making him the godfather practically guarantees our child turns out evils
>>
>>6078522
can't the queen try to balance the guy ? like, it doesn't seem he spends much time at home anyway.
>>
>>6078528
The Queen for all her good points is still at the end on Theral's side. When push comes to shove she would do her to utmost to convince our child to trust in Theral and therefore the Nothic. Rather than counter-balance she would just play good cop to his badass-cop and make it even more unlikely our child keeps our morals in the end if she got involved.
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>>6078434
>>6078310
>>6078291
>>6078226
>>6078148
[Some good discussion and thoughtful decision-making here! I was wondering if our more sporadic attendees were going to weigh in, but we can't keep the vote open forever. My coffee's kicking in and I'm less ill, so it's time to cook. Locked & writing!]
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>>6078708

One thing you absolutely CANNOT tell the Prince Consort about is your clone, or Izirina’s clone. It would be easy, oh so easy, to foist this problem off on Ayla and ‘Veigar’… But what kind of person would you be, to do that? To create life (sort of), and to promise them a chance to make a life for themselves, only to paint a target upon their backs and to sic a serpentine swordsman upon them?

Nor are you ready to share the secret of your Keep’s tunnels, and your knowledge of them and access to them. Even now, the Dragon King’s accession to peace-talks is predicated upon a future war; less true peace than patient bloodlust. You’re beginning to think you’ve misjudged how much ‘Man’ is in this lizardman

(…Or maybe, thinking of his ‘cousin’ Izirina, this degree of dangerous and obsessive behaviour is simply characteristic of the Yosef bloodline? No wonder it so worries your one-time countrymen…)

All this leaves you with one option. Thankfully, it’s one you don’t entirely mind, at least at the outset.

“I’ll… I’ll make sure that our bloodline continues. Mine and Izirina’s, I mean. Before I do.”

The Prince Consort stares blankly at you for a moment. Then, he opens his mouth and produces a choking, rattling sound. His throat vibrates erratically, and his chest quakes. You’re concerned for a moment, first suspecting a medical emergency of some sort, and then fearing this is preparation for some sort of… Of breath weapon, perhaps, like a dragon-of-old. But then he puts his hand over his mouth and leans forward slightly. With a pout of displeasure, you recognize the noise for what it is: a burst of lizardly laughter.

“I apologize, Acrhmage’sss Apprenticce,” he says without any actual apology in his tone. “It iss jussst… I believe your people call it ‘déjà vu’? I have been where you are: journeying forth on a quessst, unccertain of itss outcome, and hedging my future—the world’ssss future—on an heir yet unborn. I would not have exxxpected to find ssuch common ground with…”

He trails off, regarding you coldly, but not with disrespect.

“All I ask in return is that, if I don’t come back, or if I’m… Delayed… That you and your agents keep Izirina Henzler safe, and Costella Fanucci as well, and their families… And especially our child. I leave them in your care.”

“Of courssse,” the Dragon King rumbles, almost a purr. “It isss in all our interessstss, iss it not? We are… Family, in a way.”

You try not to let it show how much that makes your skin crawl, and instead nod.
>>
>>6078753
“I will attend the talksss… And broker thiss ‘peacce’.” The Prince Consort’s confident, jovial tone drops low for a moment, serious and grim. “But asss one who hass been been where you are now, Archmage’sss Apprenticcce… A word of warning?”

You gulp, and nod.

“Do not take too long,” Long Wang tells you seriously, man-to-man, and his eyes drift wistfully towards where his wife—Hawksong’s Queen—must be, elsewhere, on the other side of the expansive estate. “Sso much can happen, sso quickly… And sssome riftsss are hard to mend. The heart of a human female isss … It iss a precciousss, delicate thing.”

He meets your eyes again, and you feel emotional whiplash as the man-turned-monster becomes Man again, recognizable in his sympathy and sorrow.

“Do not break theirsss.”





You return to Old Maple Hill that night. It is agreed by all parties that the meeting between Hawksong’s and Bloodrise’s leadership, and Iternagreyn’s representatives, will take place on the nominally-neutral ground of the land reserve, under the auspices of the spriggan’s court. With the Keep and its extradimensional network as your ‘ace-in-the-hole’, you can’t very well hold it THERE, after all. Tonight, though, you share your space and your thoughts with only two people: the two who you love most in the world.

“So that’s what I promised him,” you say weakly, with a forced laugh. “He’ll be… Sort of our child’s godfather.”

Costella shares in your nervous laughter.

“Well, like, he’s a big guy. Strong. Has an army. And he’s, you know, pretty much King of Hawksong! That’s not a bad godfather, right?”

Izirina is silent, which is a bad sign.

“Iz?” Costella asks nervously.

Izirina shakes her head slightly, an almost imperceptible gesture.

“You don’t like it,” you infer.

“I… No, I don’t ‘like it’ that the monsters who ruined my… That the SON of the lizardwoman who killed my parents and mutated me into a—!”

Izirina closes you mouth, not trusting herself to speak, and balls her hands into fists. Izirina’s hair rises and whips about in a whirlwind, and the sides of your shared tent bow out with a gust of wind. You feel your hair prickle, and see Costella’s frizz out with ambient electrical energy. The temperature in the space rises. You brace for an elemental explosion, ready to cast <Greater Disjunction> upon her—if you still can!—if she loses control.

But she doesn’t. She instead, she throws herself upon you and, startled, you still instinctively embrace her.
>>
>>6078757
“If it was anyone else, ANYONE else, Tips, I’d…” she again stops short, no doubt having difficult sorting the tornado of tumultuous thoughts in that brain of hers.

You stroke her hair back down, and Costella completes the ‘Izirina sandwich’ as she sometimes calls it. The two of you hold her tight between you, applying soothing pressure to her, holding her down, until she can calm herself sufficiently to speak.

“I trust you,” Izirina says, muffled, between deep inhalations of her (apparently still soothing) scent.

In the back of your mind, you hear the voice of the Prince Consort, the Dragon King, the future godfather of your child, warning you about the fragility of a human woman’s heart.

With your engagement and imminent marriage to Costella, the decision is made to go forward with the strange (but strangely exciting) scheme which Izirina had plotted before: that of the ‘surrogate pregnancy’. With all three of you on board with it, though, it takes a rather different form.

“I’d like to, like, carry the baby myself, if that’s okay?” Costella asks, sheepish. “I just figure that Mama and Papa… If we get things, like, back to how they used to be, they’ll want to feel it kick and stuff, right?”

Izirina frowns a little, but nods after a moment. You’re honestly a little surprised.

“If it’s Costella, it’s fine,” she answers your unspoken query, and THIS time you think she really means it. “But to keep the peace with that damn—the Prince Consort, we’ll need it to still be MY child, too.”

Chimericism, then: a child with three parents, two mothers and a father. It’s hardly the STRANGEST application of your Living Alchemy that you’ve utilized thus far, and the result is honestly likely to be rather unspectacular from a purely academic point of view: in your current state, your child actually be wholly human, rather than some exotic hybrid.

With the agreement struck there is nothing more for it than to get down to ‘production’ on this heir.
>>
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>>6078758


https://rentry.org/pw5g4sq7



In the aftermath of the coupling (throupling?), you all lie together upon your shared mattress, a sticky and sweaty mess. You, especially—unlike when you were half-elven, you find you sweat much, MUCH more with such exertions now. From the way Izzy is clutching to you, rubbing her face against you with shuddering breaths, you suppose she doesn’t mind.

“What should we, like… Name them?”

You look up at Costella, blinking in confusion. Your mind hasn’t yet recovered from all that you just put your body through.

“Like, the baby?”

You frown a little, and point out: “We don’t’ even know their sex yet.”

“Well, like, YEAH…” Costella admits, blushing a little. “But, like, what about in general?”

“Veigar is right out,” you sigh.

“Ayla, too,” Izzy mumbles, muffled by your body.

“So, like… What are you two thinking?” Costella asks, sitting upright and looking at you eagerly. “I’m serious! This is… This is BIG! And this is going to be ALL of ours, right? Our baby…”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. It’s premature, sure, but you can’t deny a certain excitement of your own. The sex—getting to ‘finish inside’ like that—was a fine thing. But there was a purpose beyond pleasure, and even if this will be no child of prophecy, you ARE still going to be a father. It’s a daunting thing—an IMPORTANT thing—and it all begins with a name.

What sort of name will you give your child with Costella and Izirina?
>A traditional elven name
>A noble-sounding human name
>A common, humble human name
>A creative name, something fun
>Write-in [a vibe, not a specific name, though suggestions are welcome for any vote]

And what will be their last name, for that matter?
>Mious
>Van Houtzmann
>Fanucci
>Write-in
Henzler is not an option, under the circumstances, nor is Yosef or Vaz-Yosef
>>
>>6078759
>A creative name, something fun
Keeping the lol references, let's call him Lucian/her Lux
Means Light bringer, as a tongue-in-cheek.

I'll keep Fanucci as last name.
>>
>>6078759
>A common, humble human name

Something simple to contrast with his prophecy-child-esque-ness

>Van Houtzmann
>>
>>6078759
>A creative name, something fun
Keep it non-elven though

>Fanucci
>>
>>6078759
>A traditional elven name
>A noble-sounding human name

>Mious
>Van Houtzmann

I like leaning into our heritage- both sides of it
>>
>>6078758
>With your engagement and imminent marriage to Costella, the decision is made to go forward with the strange (but strangely exciting) scheme which Izirina had plotted before: that of the ‘surrogate pregnancy’. With all three of you on board with it, though, it takes a rather different form.
>Chimericism, then: a child with three parents, two mothers and a father. It’s hardly the STRANGEST application of your Living Alchemy that you’ve utilized thus far, and the result is honestly likely to be rather unspectacular from a purely academic point of view: in your current state, your child actually be wholly human, rather than some exotic hybrid.
...why do this when we can just impregnate both of them ?
>>6078759
>A traditional elven name
>Mious Houtzmann
>>
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>>6078981
[For the same reason you can't use Izirina's surname(s): scandal and legal woes. Polygamy is illegal, and you just dodged charges of adultery and bigamy.]

>>6078813
>>6078773
>>6078770
>>6078767
[I'll keep this open a bit longer.]

>>6078767
>Lucian/Lux/Lucifer
[Hmmm...]
>>
>>6078984
>[For the same reason you can't use Izirina's surname(s): scandal and legal woes. Polygamy is illegal, and you just dodged charges of adultery and bigamy.]
oh right, I kinda forgot that for a moment. btw gentledom cossy was a nice surprise for the scene. of course tips gained some inches after turning human as well, kek.
>>
>>6078759
>elven
>Fanucci

A mix of both our heritage. Good enough.

Am >>6078291
>>
>>6079031
>>6078981
>>6078813
>>6078773
>>6078770
>>6078767
As theoretically monumental as the task of child-rearing might seem, then and there, you knew you were a match for it. In the far future, there would be crises of colic, diaper-changes, scraped knees and moral instruction; for now, the simple hypothetical of a name was merely a fun post-coital conversation, a way to pass the time and make the moment stretch on a little longer.

Not that it was without challenge.

“What about something like… Abigail?” Costella suggested. “Or David, for a boy?”

“’David’ ‘Abigail’?” Izirina scrunched up her nose a little. “Aren’t those… A bit plain?”

“Right?” Costella agreed cheerfully. “A plain, boring old name to dodge a prophecy! Smart, right?”

Izirina pursed her lips and squinted her eyes, obvious still nonplussed.

“I was thinking something with a bit more… Uniqueness, “ she admitted. “The conditions fo the prophecy are already broken, after all, but the bay will still grow up to be a great mage, with its pedigree.”

“I mean, PROBABLY, yeah,” Costella concedes. “But what if they don’t, like, WANT to be a mage?”

Izirina looked absolutely befuddled at the notion, as if it hadn’t occurred to her and she still couldn’t quite reconcile it with reality.

“Who wouldn’t’ want to be a mage?” she asked.

“What were you thinking for a name?” you asked, before the conversation could devolve.

“Something like… Lucian, or Lucienne?” her eyes flare suddenly as she snaps he fingers. “Or LUX!”

Costella frowned a little this time, before quickly waving her hands in a uncoordinated gestures of supplication at Izirina’s irate expression.

“No, no no, it’s, like, totally cool! Those are great names! Just, like… It’s just, like… They kind of stand out, you know? Especially if the baby DOESN’T grow up to be a mage. It seems like, I don’t know… A lot of pressure? I mean, you never heard about a human carpenter called 'Lux', right?”

You suppress a small smirk, withholding comment. For all Izirina’s talk of the prophecy being bested already, as if it were a foregone conclusion—and you hope it is!—you saw exactly what she was doing. After all, you were (nearly) as learned a linguist as she. ‘Lux’? ‘Lucian’? How better to stave off The Forces of Darkness than with a name literally meaning ‘Light’. It bordered on superstition, and yet…

“What about Tealcin for a boy, or Taecelle for a girl?”

Both women looked to you, confused.

“That’s, like, elven, right? I think I recognize those…”

“Corruptions of the Sylvan-dialect poetic-archaic words, used to refer to daybreak or dawn.” Izirina looked at you curiously. “But your clan is Lunar, isn’t it?”

“And, like… The aby would be human,” Costella said, wincing even as she spoke the words. “Sorry! I mean, like… I’m just saying…”
>>
>>6079061
You let a small sigh out through your nose, but your smile doesn’t break.

“I know I’m not an elf, anymore. Not even half. But… the Sylvan Realms are my homeland. And it’s not as if any child of ours will be far-removed from the ways of Feycraft, growing up with us as parents, and spending time on Old Maple Hill. Right?”

“R-right!”

“Obviously.”

“It just seems like a good way to keep that part of their heritage alive, I guess,” you admit. “Tealcin—or Taecelle—Fanucci Van Houtzmann.”

“But why ‘dawn’?” Izzy presses.

“Your name’s a corruption of ‘Zarina’, isn’t it?”

“I… I don’t really KNOW,” she admits. “Mother never told me why or how she chose it. How did you--?”

“I studied every aspect of you, down to your name,” you admit, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Uh, when we were younger, and I thought you might be… A reptilian spy.”

You ignore Costella’s outburst of laughter, as Izirina’s agze turns down a little.

“S-sorry, sorry, it’s just… Heeehehe~… Iz would be an AWFUL spy. No offence! You’re just, like… So direct! Which, you know, I TOTALLY love that about you!”

“ANYWAY,” you continue, “That name derives from the early-modern Near Eastern dialects, meaning—”

“Daybreak, or golden dawn.”

You run your fingers through Izirina’s hair, and turn her face to meet her eyes.

“No matter what names we can or can’t give our child… No matter who’s carrying them… No matter what the world throws at us or tries to tell us we can or can’t do, this is your child, too.”

You guide her hand to Costella’s belly, and the other woman squirms a little, looking down. You take her hand in your other, and guide it there, too.

“All three of us, together.”

Something warm and wet splatters your hand from above. You look up, to see Izzy’s blank faced crumbling, and tears dripping down her face as she sniffles. You panic for a moment, but then relax when she looks up, smiling.

“I love you,” she whispers, as if a secret. “I love you both. Y-you know that, right?”

Costella hugs you both to her, squeezing tight.

“Like, AWESOME picks,” she whispers to you, loud enough for Izzy to hear as well.

The three of you laugh, and remain huddled close until sleep take you each in turn. You remain that way until you’re woken by daybreak, and the golden light of dawn.

>>
>>6079064
When the three of you are dressed and fed, you step outside your tent and make preparations for the delegations. For the most part, this means scrounging up what furnishings you can, and summoning those you cannot. Costella has at least SOME knowledge of woodworking as a result of her family business, which has translated into well-constructed (if not exactly ornate) chairs and tables, but they’re admittedly more suitable to the common-folk than to those of noble birth and high office. Those which Izirina summons are mostly ‘scholastic’ in nature, arriving by means of <Teleport Object> from the Tower’s storage areas—which is to say, bare, basic, and not especially comfortable.

“Oh jeez… You don’t think they’ll mind, will you??” asks a flustered Costella.

“What?” Izirina asks, looking between the two of you and then at the furniture, forehead furrowed. “What do you mean? They’re perfectly serviceable.”

“Well, like, YEAH, but—”

“I assure you, Miss Fanucci, they’re quite fine.”

All three of you look up in alarm at the familiar voice. Coming up from the road are a column of elves, clad in the forest greens and browns typical of leafweave leather, or in the fine, magically-spun wild cotton-like fibres of Sylvan horticulture… Or, in the case of both teh unfamiliar masked sun-priest and Clanirae, your people’s lunar priestess from Dappulyet, in the scared white pelts of sacrificed stags. At the head of the column, and presently speaking for them, is grey-eyed, fair-haired, Commander Qinfir of the Woodland Rangers, here representing the Council of Elders.

“We don’t plan to tarry long, and creature comforts are not our chief concern at the moment,” he adds.

His eyes quickly flick to the human woodwork, and then back up. He affects a smile which, you can tell, he tries very hard to ensure isn’t condescending. “Did you make these? They’re lovely. It ahs been some time since I have seen human handicrafts.”

“Th-thanks, Commander, sir,” Costella says with a curtsy. “Um, sorry about, you know, how we… Like, LEFT, last time we met.”

He holds up a hand, and shakes his head.

“What has passed, has passed,” he says, coolly but not cruelly. “It is forgiven, if not forgotten. We hold no grudge for past actions. We’re here to discuss the future.”

“Of course,” you say, transfixed by his curious eyes, locked upon you even as he addresses Costella.
>>
>>6079067
“Ezreal Mious of Dappulyet?" the Commander asks, voice wondering and faintly horrified. "Is that truly you?”

“Mious VAN HOUTZMANN,” you correct, with a stiff, brief bow of your head. “MAGUS Ezreal Mious Van Houtzmann, if you please, sir. Of The Hawksong Mages Tower and representing the Old Maple Hill land reserve, presently.”

"...I see."

Of the rest of the Ranger-Commander’s party, only Priestess Clanirae and Nenaias have sever seen you before. Seeing you now—bereft of your elven heritage, ‘Tips without tips’, provokes rather distinct reactions from each of them. Neither is shocked, as you might have expected. Clanirae looks at you sadly, with instant recognition. Nenaias, the elven prophet whose predictions brought you to this point, looks relieved.

Do you have anything to discuss with any of them, prior to the arrival of the other delegation?
>Yes [write-in if so, and who you wish to speak with]
>No [skips to the peace talks]

Do you invite any of your other available allies or associates to attend the talks?
>List them, if so
>>
>>6079070
>No [skips to the peace talks]

>>List them, if so
>Pearce.

Our most reliable friend.
>>
>>6079070
>Yes [write-in if so, and who you wish to speak with]
Nenaias

>Bring Pearce
>>
>>6079094
>+1
>>
>>6079091
>>6079094
>>6079250
Costella is, as ever, quick to hop to hosting duties. You take a moment to watch as she works: efficiently organizing the fellow denizens of the Hill to set out a (vegetarian, primarily vegan) spread of appetizers. It’s nothing so fancy as a royal banquet, nor as rich in nutrition and flavour as food grown and prepared by an elven specialist might be, but given the relative newness of your community here, you think you did alright. Luckily, you maintained trade with Hawksong—if you’d ceded to the Concerned Association’s full suite of demands, you could never have afforded to feed so many, so well, let ALONE the carnivorous appetites of the lizardmen of Bloodrise.

Just as you are about to step in to aid Costella and the others, though, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You turn towards it, and see that while the Sylvan delegates have begun to aid their hosts in setting the table, one member of their assembly has slipped aside. You make eye contact with Nenaias—notable, of course, because it means he hasn’t carved out his eyes again since you healed them with <Monstrous Regeneration>—and he nods. You nod back. You’d been meaning to talk to him…

You look about for a moment, and soon locate your ‘head of security’ Adolf—your rather reactionary, but mostly well-meaning husband-of-a-cousin. You meet his eye, and guide his gaze towards the elven sage. Adolf hops to attention and begins to hurry over, back hunch and jaw square for a fight. Panicking a little, you wave your hands rapidly to regain his attention, and then mouth the words:

‘Get. Pearce.’

The proverbial wind goes out of Cousin Addy’s sails, but he nods, and slaps to a needlessly military salute. You sigh, but not without affection. It’s a big step up from the paranoid xenophobia and anti-magical sentiment which he had expressed back when you lived with the Houtzman extended family, where the two of you first met… But when it comes to real, reliable security presence, there’s someone else you’d rather have by your side than maybe anyone else.

You step over to Nenaias, regarding the minasien with no small wariness. This elfman is a powerful caster, aside from his divination abilities, a master of the old druidic arts of phytokinesis who can thereby shape, move, and strengthen plant-life by imbuing them with the energy and essence of the True Fey. He came upsettingly close to imprisoning—even killing!—you and Izirina when last you met.

“Vendui', kaoveh,” you welcome him, in your shared native tongue.

“Greetings, cousin,” her repeats back, with a nod.

There is an awkward silence, as you both consider what to say.
>>
>>6079345

“I see that you’ve joined the delegation meant to make my arrest,” you break the ice.

“I was assigned,” he says, almost apologetically. “Given my status as… Well, one-time status as a prophet, of matters intimately related to this… Situation… Well, I’m sure you can see why they thought it would be helpful to have me here.”

“You no longer think me a threat, then?” you ask, and you tap your face, just below the eyes. “And… ‘Former’ prophet?”

He closes his eyes and touches the lids gingerly, and nods.

“I can still wield divination,” he points out. “But the sacrifice of my eyes is what made me minasien… What gave me the focus to see further, and with greater clarity, across time rather than merely space.”

He looks at you with interest, and adds: “Usually. There are lately some who, even so close, I can hardly see at all… Except with these eyes, which you returned to me. This is my first time seeing the ways in which you have changed for myself, Magus Mious Van Houtzmann.”

“A-ah, well…”

Before you can stammer out more than that another inetrrupts your conversation. It is a testament to your weakened, dulled senses that you are initially alerted to Logan Pearce’s approach not by your own hearing, but by the subtle twitch of wiggle of Nenaias’ long, pointed ears. Only THEN do you hear the approaching footfalls, heavy and quick, and turn to see Logan Pearce.

“I’m here!”

Pearce arrives in a full suit of layered leather armour, studded and buckled with expensive orichalcum alloy. The magically-conductive metal is key to channeling magic efficiently to augment his physical capabilities—his old specialty, from when you were students. His usual Tower Guardian emblem sits upon a flat-topped, wide-brimmed cap only vaguely reminiscent of a traditional wizard’s hat. He has supplemented his well-groomed blonde moustache with a thin, narrowly-pointed beard, you note. You resist the urge to tease him aloud about the ‘tough guy’ look he is obviously going for—after all, your oldest and dearest friend is here at YOUR request.
>>
>>6079346
Instead of the friendly mockery you’d LIKE to give the mage, you give him a grateful smile and a nod, and reintroduce him to your ‘guest’.

“Nenaias, you remember Magus Logan Pearce, of the Hawksong Tower Guardians?”

“I remember, yes.” Nenaias offers a wan smile and a bow, as he—like you—switches to speaking Common. “You did rather the number on one of our own defenders, as I recall.”

“The one who nearly bled me out like a slaughtered hog?” Pearce sniffs. “Glad to hear I agve as good as I got. He lived?”

“As you did, yes,” Nenaias replies. “I… Am glad. The delicate and dangerous matters which threaten this world shouldn’t bring low good Men, or Elves.”

Pearce’s steady, stalwart presence, and the admittedly ACTUALLY imposing figure he cuts all armoured-up as he is, bring you a bit more confidence. Pushing past the unease which earlier gripped you, you clear your throat to reclaim Nenaias’ attention.

“Right, well… I didn’t call you over here to catch up,” you say.

Nenaias quirks an eyebrow, and asks: “Did YOU call ME here at all? I thought it was the other way around.”

(Ugh, SAGES.)

What did you wish to discuss with him?
>Why did he keep his regrown eyes, and give up the gift of prophecy?
>Why were he and Clanirae so… UNSURPISED by your human form?
>What has he foreseen, if anything, since you left? Have any other prophets made new predictions?
>How have things been, in the Sylvan Realms?
>What is the sentiment towards you among his party? What does he think will happen to you, once you turn yourself over to elven justice?
>Can he find it in his heart to make peace with the Dragon King of Bloodrise?
>He isn’t going to be a… PROBLEM, is he?
[Choose two]
>>
>>6079347
>Why did he keep his regrown eyes, and give up the gift of prophecy?

>Why were he and Clanirae so… UNSURPISED by your human form?

I'm guessing the goddess told them for the second question, but it'd be nice to know anyways and if she did tell them it reflects pretty positively on our chances for lenient elf justice. So it kind of answers two questions.
>>
>>6079347
>How have things been, in the Sylvan Realms?
>What is the sentiment towards you among his party? What does he think will happen to you, once you turn yourself over to elven justice?
>>
>>6079347
>What has he foreseen, if anything, since you left? Have any other prophets made new predictions?
>How have things been, in the Sylvan Realms?
>>
>>6079347
>Why did he keep his regrown eyes, and give up the gift of prophecy?
>What has he foreseen, if anything, since you left? Have any other prophets made new predictions?
>>
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Rolled 13, 12, 8, 7, 11, 9 = 60 (6d20)

>>6079557
>>6079501
>>6079483
>>6079430
“You kept the eyes, even if they’re getting in the way of your divination,” you note, addressing the allegorical owlbear in the room. “Yet you knew I was no longer… That I’d become human.”

“Yes,” he acknowledges.

The ‘how’ seems obvious to you—he, like Clanirae, must ben in contact with the Celestial Gods. But the why…

“Have you given up on prophecy, then?” you ask, trying not to sound like some sort of spy. “There have been no more… Interesting visions?”

Nenaias shakes his head, then stops himself, and shrugs.

“Not for me, anyway,” he says with a grimace. “The gift of prophecy, and it WAS a gift… it wasn’t one I was prepared for. I fear that the… The circumstances by which I attained it, the path that lead me to remove my eyes… This may have tainted my perception of what was to come. I was biased towards negativity… Towards the worst outcomes. I failed to see the light, for all the dark”

To your startlement, the elven sage lowers himself to one knee, and bows his head.

“…Is he proposing to you?” Pearce whispers, staring.

“Humbling himself,” you whisper back annoyedly. “Be serious!”

“I was,” Pearce protests. “You have to admit—”

“Thank you,” Nenaias interrupts your aside. “With the new eyes you gave me, I have seen a new path forward… One without the pain of the past poisoning my future.”

You nod, uncertainly, and wave for him to stand back up. This seventy, eighty, maybe hundred-year-old elf, held in such high regard by a culture you aren’t sure you even truly belong to anymore, it makes you feel faintly embarrassed somehow.

“So you have high hopes for these talks, then?” You can’t conceal your hopeful tone. “You… Or other sages, perhaps, those still performing rites of prophecy… They saw something good, coming of all this?”

Nenaias beatific expression dissipates a little at that inquiry, uncertainty and unease creeping in at the edges.

“I can’t say,” he says.

“Oh, come off it,” Pearce blurts out, tapping his staff-his swordcane, as you know—in impatience. “You just said the Magus here gave you a new lease on life. The least you can do is be straight-forward.”

“Some secrets are sacred,” the (former?) minasien says apologetically. “Magus Mious van Hotuzmann, you understand, don’t you?”

You wince a little, knowing that your moonberry bushes are still planted not far from here, cultivated and propagated by the Attuned hands of Man in earthly soil, all against the wishes of the divine.

“I do,” you admit. “But, even so…”

Rolling Sociability + Sense Motive
Art by our own OlympusQM, of Olympus Incarnation Quest
>>
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>>6079618
Nenaias nods, surprising you again with his sympathy. Is this truly the man who almost smothered Izzy in animated turf, and sicced a treant upon you with lethal violence? You can scarcely believe it when he goes on, even though it was you who asked him to reveal these ‘sacred secrets’. But go on he does…

>13

…albeit in hushed tone and vaguest terms possible.

“I don’t know what you or your party have done,” he says, with a quick-yet-probing look at Pearce.

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t do anything!” your larger friend protests, before lowering his voice. “Sorry.”

“...Whoever is responsible, the fact of the matter is that calamity of some sort still seems to be considered.. There is a possibility of it. And a possibility of something else. But above all, uncertainty. I know that visions are still being received, and processed, but the greater clarity which I and other minasien had experienced, it is… Distorted around certain subjects.”

You frown. You already knew THAT much—those are the effects of <Final Revelation>. In addition to not being new information, you get the feeling (albeit not without uncertainty, because this could be your bias against the elfman) that he knows more than he is letting on about the specifics of the foreseen futures.

“But you’ve chosen a favourable interpretation, it seems?” Pearce says. “You’re singing quite the different tune to what we heard from you before.”

Nenaias’ smile returns, and he replies: “I’ve chosen to trust in my cousin, whatever shape his ears, to do what is best for our people, and for the world. You did what was right and good for me, and I will not forget the lesson I learned in the process, about assuming the worst.”

(So he might speak up in your favour! At least, you hope so…)

“Speaking of the well-being of our people, and our lands,” you segue, and then trail off.

Nenaias again nods, and affably avails you of information:

“The cessation of trade and travel through the Sylvanwood has been… Difficult, but not unbearable. Our people are few, and the woodlands are replete with food for those who respect them and treat them tenderly… As you well know, of course, being of Dappulyet.”

You agree automatically, btu without any great certainty, for you hardly ever never really had cause to forage them as an adult, and as a child you were always in the care of your mother.

(Mother… And Sylmare, and all the others of your clan…)

“Surely the elves are all eating well as ever, then?” you suggest hopefully. “We… The Sylvan Realms, they never really imported food anyway, did they?”
>>
>>6079642
“They’re eating well enough,” the sage supplies, “but much of the other wealth—in metals, in fertilizers to grow crops not natively suited to our homeland, in tools and comfortable goods—they came from Hawksong’s protectorate, or from the lands to the East as they passed through to trade with Hawksong. Now, by necessity, we divert their traffic around our lands rather than providing passage through. Our people do not adventure in human lands. We get little from the outside, and the variety and quality of what the elven people possess is…”

He grimaces.

“Peace would do you lot a world of good, then,” points out Pearce bluntly.

“And you as well,” Nenaias answers quickly. “As a mage, the cutting-off of reagents and magical materials from our land and the Eastlands beyond must be keenly felt by the Mages’ Tower?”

Pearce clams up at that, but you recognize his tells—the twitch of his moustache, the shifting of his stance. You hadn’t heard that, but then you haven’t been around the Tower much as of late, and it makes sense. It is true that especially in the wake of the hostilities with the Southlands, virtually every faculty of the Tower’s arcana would rely on the Orient for certain rare reagents, crafting materials, biological samples, and more. In addition to that, Iternagreyn has for centuries been seen as a ‘sister-school’ to the Tower, and a fellow-traveller in pathways of practical and esoteric magic—after all, you were able to secure a transfer from one ‘Tower’ to another, as a child! The closing offof the intellectual exchange must be nearly as stifling.

“I’m glad to hear nobody is starving, at least,” you say dully, keeping to yourself your unfortunate assessment that nobody is flourishing, either.

“Now, cousin, might ask you something in turn?”
>>
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>>6079643
You narrow your eyes at Nenaias request, and rely simply: “Ask away, cousin. I can only promise to be as forthright in my answers as you have been.”

“Fair is fair,” Nenaias mutters, losing a bit of his lustre again as he presses on regardless. “The so-called Prince Consort… The alleged Dragon King… What re your thoughts on him and his race?”

How do you answer?
>Truthfully, you trust him—enough to be the godfather of your child, and to advocate for peace with his people, because you believe they all have the capacity for good
>The Dark Gods remain a serious concern, and any servant of theirs should not be fully trusted, but this peace deal is the best bet to keep them controlled and contained
>The peace deal is a temporary measure at best, and really more of a stopgap—in truth, you believe that measures SHOULD be taken against them urgently, just not at the expense of Elf or Man
>You decline to answer, knowing the unfortunate history between his elfman and the Prince Consort, and not wishing to be seen to ‘pick a side’ before the talks
>Write-in
If you privately feel different than how you are answering him, please specify your REAL opinion in addition to the answer you give
>>
>>6079644
>The Dark Gods remain a serious concern, and any servant of theirs should not be fully trusted, but this peace deal is the best bet to keep them controlled and contained
We do believe they have the capacity for good though
>>
>>6079659
>+1
>>
>>6079644
>The peace deal is a temporary measure at best, and really more of a stopgap—in truth, you believe that measures SHOULD be taken against them urgently, just not at the expense of Elf or Man
>>
>>6079644
>The Dark Gods remain a serious concern, and any servant of theirs should not be fully trusted, but this peace deal is the best bet to keep them controlled and contained

Given answer.

> REAL opinion

>Truthfully, you trust him—enough to be the godfather of your child, and to advocate for peace with his people, because you believe they all have the capacity for good.

Theral hasn't really done anything to us, and unironically has been more open to diplomacy than the elves have.

but it's not in our interest to be looking pro dark god's when nenaias threw a fit the last we seemed to be on their side.
>>
>>6080157
Supporting that.

I'm me of course (>>6074489)
>>
>>6079659
I'll switch to +1 this. I do not trust him enough for this.
>>
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Rolled 14, 3, 14, 20 = 51 (4d20)

>>6080217
>>6080207
>>6080157
>>6079849
>>6079815
>>6079659
“He’s a lizardman who calls himself ‘Dragon king’,” you say bluntly, with a shrug. “I’m not a fool, Nenaias. I KNOW who he serves. I KNOW that Bloodrise is a danger.”

“Yet you work with him?”

You hesitate to respond to that, mulling over how much you should say. In truth, you DO trust Theral, or Long Wang, or whoever… To an EXTENT. He’s been cooperative, moreso than your own countrymen at times, but you’re not so naïve or oblivious as to miss his obvious ulterior motives. After all, didn’t you lure him to these talks with the promise of future invasion and conquest? Whether he is truly a ‘dragon’ as the tyrannical reptiles of old, he has the AMBITION of such a beast, or at least of a Yosef, and he serves the Gods of Darkness.

“Consider it containment,” you tell the elven sage. “This is how we keep an eye on them… Keep them under control, and prevent them from attacking before we’re ready.”

Nenaias seems to relax a little. You know the history between he and Prince Consort Long Wang, or at least have an inkling of it. The one-time minasien carved out his eyes originally not for the sake of any prophetic prowess, but out of anguish at the depravity and horror he had witnessed, including the death of the last Lord of the House of Yosef: the Green Knight, Sir Heinrich, who had been defeated, corrupted, and finally destroyed by some demonic minion of the Dragon King. To position yourself as a secret ally, working ‘behind enemy liens’ to undermine his tormentor, is a winning stratagem.

And yet…

“There is good in them, you know.”

Nenais tenses up again, and you hear Pearce suck in air through his teeth in an audible cringe. Even so, you can’t help yourself.

“I told the Goddess Miannie as much, when we.. When she offered me her favour. They DO have the capacity for coexistence. This peace… It can be a means to help guide them out of Darkness, and into the light. To ‘corrupt’ them, in a way… In reverse!”
>>
>>6080383
heinrich had no need for a codpiece as Irri was protecting that dick with her literal life essence
>>
>>6080383

You can see how intrinsically repulsive this notion is to Nenaias, how every fibre of his being grows taut to spring at you—or away from you. Yet the mention of Divine Princess Miannie and her favour gives him pause, and forces him to heed your words.

>20

His piety outweighs his animosity, and the longer he listens, the more his discomfort turns to curiosity.

“You think such a thing is possible?” he asks, quietly.

“I know it,” you say. “I have seen it. They know love, Nenaias... For their children, for one another. And The—Long Wang, I mean—he TRULY loves the Queen, and she loves him in turn. Not because she is blind to who or what he is, but because of something she sees in him. Something real.”

“Maybe,” Nenaias allows, and shifts his feet, looking off into the distance as if at some distant possibility. “Maybe.”

Now it’s YORU turn to breathe in relief. You feared you’d ruined your rapport for a moment, ahead of these all-important negotiations.

“But not him.”

You tense up again, as Nenaias meets your eyes.

“I see the wisdom in your words, cousin. I do. And your strategy has my support. But know this: if the Dragon King knows what love is, and how much it hurts to lose one you love, and he STILL acted as he did… It makes him a worse creature, not a noble one. If the reptilian races can be redeemed, HE still cannot. Not him. Not ever.”

You purse your lips and watch him leave.

“Well, that could have gone better,” you note.

“Could have gone worse, too,” Pearce counters.

You arch an eyebrow at him, asking: “Since when are you an optimist?”

Pearce claps your shoulder, with a small smile.

“Life’s been good to me lately.”

“If I knew getting you laid would improve your mood THIS much, I’d have found you an elfman years ago,” you wuip, with a rye smile.

Pearce’s grip tightens, and he grins a stiff grin.

“You little knife-eared shit.”

“ROUND-eared, thank you,” you quickly retort.

“Hey, that’s my word, not yours!”

“OUR word, fellow human.”

Pearce’s attempt at a threatening expression breaks, the façade untenable as ever before your teasing.

“Still a little shit, though,” he says.

“So you’re saying I’m still your type?”

Pearce groans, but before he can banter back, something catches his attention. He takes in a sharp breath through his nose, and you see him visibly shift from your old buddy Logan Pearce to Logan Pearce: Shift Captain of the Hawksong Tower Guard.

“They’re here?”

He nods, wordlessly.
>>
>>6080407
You turn, to see two carriages come rolling down the hill. Each of them bears the eagle, shield, sword, and crown which together form the royal emblem of Hawksong’s royal household. The coachmen step down and open the doors, and the tall, broad figure of the Prince Consort steps out, clad in fine garb of Oriental construction and pattern; he extends a hand, genteel, and he helps down the Queen of Hawksong, Ekaterine. She smiles, and to your eye at least it appears genuine; so, too, his relief at her acceptance of the gesture. Of course, you have bigger things to worry about than gossip about the royals’ relationship; as their retinue unload, including both envoys of the dark kingdom and a smattering of Hawksong’s own paladins and senior nobility, you rejoin Costella and greet them, Pearce hovering a step back.

“I must say, the land reserve is really looking quite lovely!” Queen Ekaterine says brightly. “Missus Mious Van Houtzmann, it is truly a marvel what you people have down with such a long-neglected plot of land!”

“O-oh, well… thank you, Your Majesty!” Costella says, with a hurried curtsy.

“You two are full of ssurprisesss,” the Prince Cosnort agrees, surveying the field.

Prince Long Wang squints a little, hiding the quick flick of his inner-eyelids, and you sense a subtle change in his posture as he registers something—perhaps the presence of the elven delegates, or maybe something about the Hill?

“I can only imagine what will grow from thisss palcce,” he adds, and your’e not sure if he MEANS ti to be ominous or if that’s just how it comes out.

“Uh, thank you, Your Highness” you say, hedging your bets.

With the arrival of the Hawksong (mostly Bloodrise) attendees, you set out some of the meats and cheeses which you had purchased from the nearby farms and villages. The elves register subtle distaste for the new additions to the table, but do not voice them—they know well the ways of Man, and they reserve their more obvious contempt and disdain for the black-skinned elves and shapeshifted reptilians. Several elves charms of protection, or refresh warding spells to protect their minds and bodies.

The Bloodrise delegates are plainly amused at this, and much more at-ease, the truly-mammalian among them whispering and chortling to one another, while the one you recognize as The Thief—and a few others, whom you do not recognize but suspect to be of his race—all eat calmly, proudly, and at times hiss and chatter openly in their lisping, rattling tongue. You exchange a look with the Queen, who meets your gaze. Your eyes flit to the uneasy paladin who sits at her one side, and the elderly nobleman seated beside the Prince Consort. She gives you a subtle nod, in turn.

(So they know… Some of Hawksong’s Paladins, and innermost nobility, they KNOW what their Queen’s husband truly is. You’re not sure if that’s comforting, or worrying…)
>>
>>6080411
You sit opposite the Queen and her Consort, with Costella on one side of you and Izzy on the other. Costella is closest to the Bloodrise delegates, with Pearce a buffer between her. Izirina sits on the other side, vibrating with nervous energy and with her gaze fixed upon her plate of uneaten food; you think she might be more agitated than the elves!

You and the girls are the hosts here. It is up to you to start the discussion: to set the tone, the pace, the agenda. Your objectives are clear: a pact of mutual non-aggression, ideally a re-opening of trade, and most of all the prevention of wars between your peoples… or within them, as a result of certain disclosures. To achieve this, you have convinced the Queen of Hawksong to abolish an ancient and important noble-house, a self-declared Dragon King to (at least temporarily) forestall aggression, and even to turn yourself in for arrest and judgement.

How will you begin?
>Open with a prayer to Princess Miannie, as thanks for her blessings, and to the local True Fey of the Old Maple court for allowing you all to be here
>Ask the Paladin in attendance to open the discussion, and to bless this meeting in the name of Moroth and Marese—chief gods of the Northern Pantheon of the Gods of Law, who oversee maters of nobility, of war, of peace, and of security
>Politely (but firmly) suggest that everyone in attendance shed their disguises, in the spirit of openness and truth—get it all out in the open
>Ask Costella to open with a joke—an anecdote about how you all came to be here, and cut the tension a little
>Ask Izirina to get down to take charge, and set the terms on offer—she may be anxious, but you know she can channel her adoptive mother’s direct demeanour when she needs to

Once you’ve said your peace, who will you invite to speak first?
>Commander Qinfir
>The King of Bloodrise
>The Queen of Hawksong
>Write-in

[Write-ins are strongly encouraged, and could go a long way to preventing… Issues.]


>>6080406
More like she demanded easy access at all times, kek
>>
>>6080415
>Open with a prayer to Princess Miannie, as thanks for her blessings, and to the local True Fey of the Old Maple court for allowing you all to be here

>The Queen of Hawksong
let's hope we can get TEL
>>
>>6080431
[Total Euphorious Laughter?]
>>
>>6080415
>Open with a prayer to Princess Miannie, as thanks for her blessings, and to the local True Fey of the Old Maple court for allowing you all to be here
For the old maple court part, maybe phrase it differently. Instead of them allowing us to be here, this meeting wouldn't have been possible without them.

>Politely (but firmly) suggest that everyone in attendance shed their disguises, in the spirit of openness and truth—get it all out in the open
How can we not pick such an alpha chad move? Not like anyone here doesn't know anyway, and any agreements reached will feel less legitimate if done with some parties under disguise.

>The Queen of Hawksong
>>
>>6080415
>Ask Costella to open with a joke—an anecdote about how you all came to be here, and cut the tension a little

>Politely (but firmly) suggest that everyone in attendance shed their disguises, in the spirit of openness and truth—get it all out in the open


>The Queen of Hawksong
>>
>>6080411
I wonder if the novice or the bastrd is among the reptilians who came here?
>>
>>6080489
Ssezty isnt an infiltrator, she literally the queen of Bloodrise and likely acting Regent when Theral is gone given her position, she wouldnt leave Bloodrise anyway she has her own babe to watch over, not a demigod like her half brother, but she is basically the demonic version of one, Im sure had we gone to Wevenore we wouldve checked out Bloodrise too and wed learn more about her but thats not important, Sseztlussth is snobby master of Fleshweaving (chimericism) and devout follower of the Nothic, she'd be making snippy comments and literally no one would be able to stop her not even Theral and the whole of the peace talks would go under because she wants to bite all of these treedwellers with good appetites unlike darkelves and duergar who have to scavenge in the dark or grow mushrooms off magic rocks Theral and her regularly eat the flesh of other races in rituals, could be theyre criminals but most likely just slaves, she is not built for the world above shes built to be an evil queen and relishes in it, finding Therals capacity for love as an unfortunate byproduct of his genetic foundations, that man cant bring that bitch anywhere but she can admit that hes the only one worthy of her
>>
>>6080507
>not a demigod like her half brother, but she is basically the demonic version of one
???
>>
>>6080415
>Politely (but firmly) suggest that everyone in attendance shed their disguises, in the spirit of openness and truth—get it all out in the open

>The Queen of Hawksong
>>
>>6080546

[I believe the anon is referring the 'power sources' grafted onto Hawksong and Bloodrise's heirs apparent.]
>>
>>6080546
Therals daughter (Wadjet iirc)was imbued with the soul of a greater demon, Therals son with Eka is a demigod and technically has 3 parents, as Theral fucked the Goddess and got lethally Mpreg and couldnt bang anyone but a princess or hed fucking die, we had options but the goddess told us it could kill the carrier, pretty sure because of Ekas family and her inherent magics that directly oppose Therals unholy aspects, Theral also has 9 sons with Glowie queen of the Wyrms of Bloodrise who was a gift from the Goddess made for Theral to breed shocktroops, and Theral loves each of his kids and wants a place where they can all live together
>>
>>6080635
[Glowie being a 'gift' might be overselling it. The joke/theme wirh her was that as Reptilian Infiltrators are to humans and such, she was to the Reptilians, because the Dark Goddess had lost faith in the Reptilians and was engineering their replacement. Glowie being sexually/reproductively compatible with Theral was because she was made ro serve as a genestealer, to take the best aspects of the old guard and incorporate them into cannibal hybrid troops who could be used to wipe out and replace reptoids AND the surface races.]
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>>6080638
Didnt Theral basically reprogram her though, through his humming and the fact he already had a more powerful godseed blood in him? Like glowies goal isnt so much to replace the world at this point rather shes been domesticated and wants to bring Therals goals to fruition, I still agree that shes a genestealer but I feel as if its her mothers goal to consume the life of all not so much hers anymore, maybe just enemies of Therals and hers, Idk why im arguing with you about your own characters, I just like discourse but I know the thread isnt the place for discourse on previous installments, and Glowie has had little to no impact on Tips story outside of Natovask who Tips was extremely interested in understanably
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>>6080439
Total Elf Live
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>>6080622
>>6080635
Ok, I missed where the subject changed from Ssetz to the kids.
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>>6080684
>Didnt Theral basically reprogram her though, through his humming and the fact he already had a more powerful godseed blood in him?
[Theral is a mongrel, technically a "Degenerate" in the harsh Reptilian Master Race caste system; he just LARPs as a dragon, and the gods back him because he's effective and they have plans for him and his kingdom. Any dragon/demigod ancestry he ha sis negligible to the point of irrelevence, with his appearance having more to do with his mother modfying him in-utero and Irinnile leaving him with the same dmeonic taint that affects Ayla and Carazzi's appearance and behaviour.]

[As for his reprogramming Glowie by humming and holding hands... Kind of? It's only "reprogramming" in the sense that she likes him and, while she thinks he is a silly creature, she will humour his ideas for now because he's cute and he seems to very much want her to do so. The humming and handholding doesn't do anything for her except make her happy. HER humming, and Karz Throat-Singer's, affect her kids because they're both imbuing it with magic (and because as a hive queen, she commands the unquestioning loyalty of her soldiers and drones). Theral's own ability to command his bug-children comes from their (transgenic) dragon blood from the dead hatchlings he dug up, and the fact that he specced into minicking a true dragon's Fearsome Presence.]

>I know the thread isnt the place for discourse on previous installments
[I'm always happy to clarify lore!]
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>>6080829
>comes from their (transgenic) dragon blood
so we're not the only one doing chimerism on our kid, zam
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>>6080897
[It has, oddly, become sort of a thruline in the protagonists: accidentally or intentionally creating unusual heirs and successors.]

>>6080621
>>6080488
>>6080447
>>6080431
[I'll post tonight if I can, but I really don't want to type it out on mobile, and my computer and router are both coping poorly with the heatwave...]
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>>6080415
How will you begin?
>Open with a prayer to Princess Miannie, as thanks for her blessings, and to the local True Fey of the Old Maple court for allowing you all to be here
>Politely (but firmly) suggest that everyone in attendance shed their disguises, in the spirit of openness and truth—get it all out in the open
Let’s get to the point.

>The King of Bloodrise
Mention the unseelie fey. They were the only roadway to get his son back, that was, until our intervention. We can fill in the gaps on what happened after - banelight asking the favors, pearce’s injury, the unseelie star construction, and the termination of our relationship upon her stating her intention to use it to conquer every other country.

Am>>6079031

Just caught up.
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>>6080936
>>6080967
>>6080621
>>6080488
>>6080447
>>6080431

“I would like to begin this council with some words of thanks,” you begin. “thank you first an d foremost, Spirit of the Old Maple, and all your courtiers. Udos ph'nin pholor mzilst orthae eairthin, ssin'urn lu'duul'sso, orthae yol l'ze'zhuanth draevalen.”

“Usssstan tlun zh'anni ulu l'lorug's athiyk, vel'ussss kyorlee l'zhaunil wun inbalin udossssa ghil.”

You are taken aback to hear the (admittedly accented) words from the Prince Consort, who bows his head in turn. You think you recall tell of his speaking elventongue, but not that he was so fluent. Immediately, though, you can see how it raises the hackles of every elf in attendance. There is an old saying among your people, a warning to children gifted in the mystic arts which is meant for demons but which applies equally here:

‘The only reason for a predator to speak the language of its prey is to deceive and thereby ensnare it.’

You don’t necessarily believe that it fair to apply here, but you can see the warning signs that this is just what your cousins will do. This, hurriedly, you continue, returning to the Common tongue:

“And thank you, too, to the Gods Above—the Gods of Good, most especially Princess Miannie of the Bonum Choaticum and of Holy Luna. She, who is mother to my mother’s people, and mother to me, and who has personally seen fit to sanction this meeting of peace, as abridge between our nations… All three of them.”

At these last words, you turn your attention to the Prince Consort—to the Dragon King, rather—and to his people.

“Are you familiar with the Lunar Gods, Your Majesty?”

“I am not essspeccially,” he answers, “ssave that the chief deities of the eleven racce dwell there… And that thiss iss the sssecond Ssun they’ve made.”

You squint a little, confused, for you aren’t really sure what he’s referring to, but you can see Paladins and Rangers alike shift in discomfort, some looking disturbed and others gravely offended.

“W-well Miannie, the Princess of the New Moon, is MY patron,” you press on, before things can escalate further at this apparent, subtle jab at some theological or historical controversy. “She’s a daughter of Rianniane, the Goddess of the Moon Itself. Priestess Clanirae, what would you say her ‘portfolio’ is?”

“I wouldn’t use the term ‘portfolio’,” she says in gentle reproach, after she has gotten over the surprise of being suddenly called upon to explain your clan’s faith before ‘the enemy’. “She is the gentle and kind hand which takes your own in the dark of night, and guides you to the light of your family, and friends, and away from dangers.”
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>>6080989
You hear grumbling and see rolled eyes among the Wevenore Drow. Clanirae, slight and fair and outwardly fragile, must register their dismissive disbelief as well. Despite this, even now seemingly almost over-relaxed as she continues:

“Holy Princess Miannie is the quiet whisper as one falls asleep, or when one wakes at midnight and needs guidance to return to sleep. She is a keeper of secrets, to whom your fears and desires can be safely shared, and thereby understood and addressed.”

You note that the Prince Consort, and the dark-skinned Southman seated directly beside him, both listen with keen interest, even if the rest of their company seem more annoyed or bored than attentive. Perhaps they suspect—as you see on her face that Clanirae understands-what you are building toward. With the elven cleric having set the stage, you speak again:

“Princess Miannie knew who we were inviting here, into a space made scared and wholesome by the Bonum Chaoticum—the Gods of Freedom. And we all know who we have brought here, too: not just Hawksong, but Bloodrise. And we ALL know who dwells in Bloodrise, and what mantle their King wears… Theral.”

The name (or title?) of ‘Theral’ seems significant here, too. It is literally the elven word for ‘copper’. You hold it up for all to see, as evidence of the common ground here—a basis for understanding, for trust. The Dragon King doesn’t merely speak your language to manipulate, or our of some malicious desire to disturb—he uses it to understand himself, he APPRECIATES your culture and arts, and keeps elves (albeit strange, subterranean elves) among his councillors!

“We are gathered here today because the Goddess of the New Moon, who walks calmly in shadows and invites the sharing of secrets, would rather that we find peace and mutual understanding than invite another War of Elves and Dragons. Perhaps, in the spirit of she and her sisters, and of peace and understanding… We should shed our disguises.”

Clanirae nods and you see a hint of a smile upon her face. From the Dragon King’s attendants, though, there are grimaces, twitches of sword arms, and one burly-looking human (?) male stands up. He is built solidly, but has the colouration of a Northman; only when he opens his mouth does it become obvious he is not.

“Thisss isss outrage! Insssult!”

The disguised reptilian’s accent is so thick, his pace so halting and lisp so lingering, that it almost assaults the ears. You wince, but not JUST because of his rasping imitation of human language; this isn't exactly the heartwarming display of anxiety-assuaging goodwill you'd hoped for. Your hope rebound, however, when the Dragon King places a on his companion’s shoulder. The large ‘man’ immediately flinches, hangs his head low, and sinks into his seat. When his master speaks, though, it isn't exactly in full-throated support of your idea.
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>>6080991
“I think what my loyal ally, Ssir Peter Gardien, meansss iss that it sseemss to be a one-ssided requesst.”

To your more-than-mild annoyance, he looks to his wife—the Queen of Hawksong—and not to you or to the other hosts when he makes his petition:

“If we’re to lower our guardsss… To remove the itemsss which shield usss from persecution and prejudgement, just for the way we look, it will put uss at a disssadvatnage, and makessome of uss feel vulnerable.”

“It would go a long way towards making sure everyone feel these negotiations are being held in good faith,” you insist, and look to Commander Qinfir, who watches this all in thoughtfully-stoic silence.

“We have already done much to ssecure thiss, haven’t we?” the Dragon King argues. “We have journeyed furthessst, and ssit here in a sspacece owned by, and filled with, you ancessstral enemiesss. We are outnumbered, in fact, two-to-one, or more!”

“A space owned by your wife, monster,” one of the Qinfir’s Woodland rangers retorts. “a space SHE chose!”

“A space chosen in the spirit of NEUTRALITY, Sir Ranger,” the Queen says, prim yet pointed, and seemingly offended by the implicit accusation.

“A placce conssecrated to YOUR godsss and sspiritss, asss we've all jusst been reminded,” the King of Bloodrise says.

The Queen of Hawksong places a hand upon his, in quiet support. They both seem almost familiar with this situation, as if they’ve been here before. Perhaps they have. It's not exactly the best opportunity for them to find their solidarity as spouses, though...
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>>6080992
“King Theral…”

The Dragon King pivots his head sideways, regarding you levelly with one eye. ‘Work with me, here,’ you try to wordlessly communicate. And he seems to understand, are smiles as if he does. The Dragon King lifts his hands to the amulet upon his chest, and the trails his fingers along the thin chain which suspends it there, up to his neck, and begins to lift it… Then stops.

“In the sspirit of magnanimousss cooperation, though, I will exxxtend the olive branch—as I believe you people ssay—one more time… If you will meet me half-way?”

(…Huh? Where is he going with this?)

“We are not the only one here who came with shieldsss at the ready, are we? We will lower ourss… if you do likewissse.”

The hands of several Sylvan elves in attendance fly to their own necklaces, broaches, and other enchantments of mystical warding and physical protection. They are practical defences, and possibly wisely-worn, but they ARE also symbols of their own guardedness and mistrust, just as the false faces of the lizardmen and their king… At least, one could interpret them that way.

A more suspicious individual, less inclined to trust a lizard, might believe that the King of Bloodrise is trying to springboard off of your suggestion to strongarm his enemies into disarming themselves of a vital defence.

“Ssso?” the Dragon King asks.

Commander Qinfir’s expression tightens subtly, but to your shock, he reaches for the emblem upon his breast—that of a soaring bird, and unclips it from his cape and leafweave cuirass. You turn your trained mage’s eye upon him, and confirm that—yes—this is his own protective charm.

What do you do?
>This is absurd—forget it, everyone can keep their charms and trinkets, and various defensive enchantments.
>Single out Nenaias, who promise dot offer you his support, and cash in that promise to have him lead the elves in removing their defenses
>Appeal to Ekaterine of Hawksong to rein her husband and consort in, and to have him unilaterally lower his people’s illusions
>Openly chastise one side, or the other, or both [specify]
>Just caste <Greater Disjunction> on the whole damn table—enough of this!
>Write-in
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>>6080994
>>Write-in
>Accept the counter proposal, and have both sides drop their amulets.

If commander Qinfir is fine with shedding his amulet, and he commands the elven soldiers. Then we can just go ahead with this.
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>>6081039
[To clarify, Qinfir has touched his charm, and seems to undecided. You don't know for sure that he'll go ahead, and his contingent see against it. If this wins, it'll be a percentile roll, odds unknown.]
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>>6080994
Do we need to do anything? If Qinfir is lowering his of his own initiative, will the elves under his command not follow suit?

Plus Theral did raise a good point - starting a fight here and now doesn't seem too viable when he's outnumbered and on consecrated ground. Just in case:

>Make sure that the Bloodrise faction doesn't keep any combat enchanted items while only removing the disguises.
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>>6080994
>>6081043
>>6081059
Oh I didn't realize he hadn't actually removed it yet

I guess if the quick amendment that neither side keeps any magical shields doesn't satisfy the elves, we can fall back on
>Single out Nenaias, who promise dot offer you his support, and cash in that promise to have him lead the elves in removing their defenses
He did say he'd never trust Theral, but Theral isn't the only reptilian here. This is the first peace conference between reptilians and other races.
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>>6080994
>>Single out Nenaias, who promise dot offer you his support, and cash in that promise to have him lead the elves in removing their defenses
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>>6080994
>Single out Nenaias, who promise dot offer you his support, and cash in that promise to have him lead the elves in removing their defenses

>Openly chastise one side, or the other, or both [Lighty chastise Theral for letting his men call our request an insult and for his outburst. While we understand his hesitance to do what we asked, characterizing as at an insult is too far, and frankly he is an attendant and should not so abruptly make his opinion known like that.]

I think we need to make it clear to all the miscellaneous party members on both sides of the aisle that this is the meeting between leaders, and while they can interject, it is on a limited basis. Otherwise I can see this turning into a shit show where the entourages start insulting each other at the slightest provocation and derailing the meeting.
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>>6081204
+1 sounds good.
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>>6081204
>+1
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>>6081525
>>6081342
>>6081204
>>6081096
>>6081064
>>6081059
>>6081039
[Locked and writing!]
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>>6081675
You stiffly your irritation at the delay in proceedings, not least of which because you can see the Dragon King’s point. A symmetry in disarmament and trust is precisely what you want, even if this isn’t EXACTLY how you’d have gone about it. Initially you hope that the Ranger Commander’s own gesture signifies an intent to comply, for surely as Qinfir goes, so will his supporters. The longer he lingers, though, the more you worry. Finally, feeling yourself begin to sweat, you turn to Nenaias and raise both eyebrows in silent plea.

>Favour: Cashed

Nenaias nods after a moment. In full view of all the others, he reaches into his robes and withdraws a small vial, filled with anointed oils and sacred herbs, and capped with a silver-set gemstone of a raw, milky-golden colour. He removes the thin strand of enchanted elven hair which holds it in place, and sets it down upon the table.

>Result: Instant success

A moment later, the other elves begin to do the same. Commander Qinfir’s Rangers wait until he does so first, but he doesn’t linger long,, whether out of pride or trust in Nenaias’ sagely wisdom. The Ranger Commander makes pointed eye contact with the Dragon King as he does so, though, in a wordless dare.

The Dragon King works his jaw, lowering his head and rolling his shoulders. His eyes flit to Hawksong’s Queen, who gives him a reassuring smile and squeezes his hand. He nods in turn, and completes the motion he started, removing his illusory amulet. The effect is fascinating, and disgusting, and less immediate than you had expected it to be. The tastefully-draped fabric of the monster-sovereign’s garb fills out with muscle, while it grows baggier elsewhere, for his form does not simply grow but SHIFTS in ways that are subtly inhuman. His neck extends, even as his face expands outwards into an elongated muzzle. His mouth splits his cheeks, which peel apart as if sliced at the corners and ripped asunder, and wicked, carnivorous teeth fill his maw. His green eyes flash, and their position shifts, as horns sprout up from amidst the red-orange hair upon his head; the hair, to your surprise, does not disappear., nor does the pallor of his skin—now scaly—change overmuch. His beard recedes, though, replaced by a series of spines along a proud, saurian chin. He shifts in his seat, half-standing, as a long tail ending in a devilish fork explodes forth through an artfully-hidden flap just below the back of his bel. He curls it around the chair, sitting ever-so-slightly sideways to accommodate its back. As he licks thin, lizard lips with a forked tail and crosses his arms.

The effect upon the elves is immediate. No one screams or shouts, such dignity beneath them—the only such sounds are a quick squeal of alarm from Costella.

“I take back the ‘handsome’ part,” you hear her whisper to Izirina, who doesn’t so much as smile, her attention fixed furiously upon the King of Bloodrise.
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>>6081712
As one after another of the Reptilians follows their liege’s lead, however, it becomes difficult to deny that there IS something instinctively offputting about these creatures. Each is surprisingly different from the next: one, who arrived in almost monastic robes, has an especially elongated neck and limbs a flat, smooth face with narrow tilted eyes. The Thief is a tawny golden-green, as you had seen once in passing, and after his transformation he replaces the strange, metal half-mask he wears, but only to hide the grisly scarification of his visage—an act you are unsurprised to find nobody takes umbrage with, after seeing the damage wrought upon him. The one who spoke up—‘Sir Peter Gardien’—is the most in-keeping with what you would expect from a ‘lizardman’: large, brawny, green, and almost crocodilian in his natural pelage, though even he has larger eyes and a smoother face and more domed skull than the depictions of the reptilian raiders said to haunt the southeastern sea.

“Are we all satisfied?” you ask.

There are a chorus of not-especially-satisfied-sounding agreement.

“Good,” you say. “Though moving forward, I think it would be best if we kept interjections by anyone besides the delegations’ LEADERS to a minimum, wouldn’t you agree? If everyone decides to voice their offence and insult at every QUITE REASONABLE REQUEST, we’ll be here all day.”

You can hear that ‘Gardien’ character hissing angrily, but he abruptly stops, and sinks into shamed silence as the Dragon King—voice eerily unchanged, even as his form is so wickedly warped—agrees.

“Wisse wordsss, Magusss. You have my ssubordinate’sss apology. Isss it not sso, Pit Guard?”

“Pit Guard?” one of the Rnegr blurts out, before he catches himself.

“Yesss,” the ‘Pit Guard’, or ‘Peter Gardien’, agrees under his master’s coercion. “Am… Ssorry, to mammalsss. Will conssider 'feelingsss' in future, and not sspeak unlesss commanded.”

You shoot a pointed look at King Theral—Or is it ‘Theral Maelthra Valuk’, more properly, you wonder?—and he simply shrugs. His expression is even harder to interpret than ever, but if you had to hazard a guess, you would take it to mean: ‘this is the best apology you’re going to get.’ You sigh, and turn o Queen Ekaterine.

“Your Majesty?”
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>>6081713
Queen Ekaterine stands swiftly and smiles brightly, eager to dispel the tension and get things back on track—bless her heart.

“Thank you all for coming here,” she says. “I know that your peoples have a, ah, a FRAUGHT history, to say the least. My own people are no strangers to the predations of the OLD Dragon Kings, for that matter. My family made their name protecting the good people of these lands from them, and most recently, the faction of my husband’s people known as the ‘Serpent Priesthood’ have inflicted a plague upon our city and a burning blight upon the countryside—though not ALL Serpent Priests stand with them, as Mister, ah, ‘The Translator’, in the robs, can attest! The past need not define the future—that is the gift of freedom, of free will, given to us buy the Chaotic Good Gods! Moroth and Marese, too, teach that individual morality and merit should be the standard by which a Man—or Reptilian, or Elf—is judged, not by the acts of his or her ancestors. Now that we have unmasked ourselves and set down our shields… Let us strive to see the best in one another, shall we?”

She sits down, to a chorus of noncommittal mumbles. Even her own Paladin guard and her elderly counsellor offer half-hearted and brief applause.

“Very well, let us address the here and now, then, rather than distant past or far future,” Commander Qinfir states, with a smile. “Though, with all due respect, the past which humans consider ‘distant’ is closer at hand for some of us than others, and it behooves our race to think further into the future than some others might, given our lifespans.”

He looks squarely at the King and Queen of Hawksong, and of Bloodrise, and asks:

“You signaled your willingness to accede to our conditions. Is this the case?”

Queen Ekaterine, to her credit, looks to you and to Izirina before she answers. You nudge Izzy, snapping her out of her furious fixation upon her estranged, inhuman cousin, and she stands, saying:

“I renounce any claim to the House of Yosef.”

“Yesss, and I asss well, for what it isss worth,” the Dragon King agrees. “Let is die, and be no more. It iss asss it should be.”

You see Nenaias begin to rise, but Qinfir glances his way, and Priestess Clanirae guides him back to his seat. You’d expected him to be happier at that declaration than he looks, given it was HIS prediction that the revival of that house would doom the world… But then, given his account of how it ended—of how his friend, the last Lord of that ancient house was brought low by this same ‘antipaladin’—you suppose you can understand his mixed feelings.
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>>6081714
“And the other conditions?” The Ranger Commander presses. “I can’t imagine, with your… Husband… Sitting here, playing his role as ‘Prince Consort’, that you mean to separate yourself from him, or from the influences he surrounds himself with? In the past you’re so eager to move on from, our people were united, friends and family under the Gods of Light, united in common cause against the Gods of Darkness. If we’re to speak solely on the present…”

Qinfir leans forward.

“…Can we really afford to ignore the growing power of the Forces of Darkness? That your only heir is fathered by—and is to be raised and mentored by—a being who calls himself an enemy of Paladins, and a champion of the Dark Gods? That proudly proclaims himself the heir the Dragon Kings your forefathers fought against?”

It is, as much a you hate to admit it, a very fair question. The Dark Gods are no friends of yours, either, and it’s their influence that seems largely to blame for a great many miseries which have beset Izirina, Costella, and yourself, not to mention Hawksong as a whole, the countryside surrounding it, and the elven race past and present. The Nothic’s noxious gaze and smug certainty that you and your descendants would follow some unseen path into his evil creator’s clutches is exactly why you bid Izzy to abandon her lessons. How much moral cover are you really willing to provide the Dragon King and his fellow faithful of that awful religion?

But then again, it’s not as if you can just expect them to abandon their religious convictions, which they plainly hold close to their hearts. Hells Below, even the Little Folk and Drow in attendance seem to take umbrage with the way Qinfir is speaking of Theral’s pantheon—it seems he’s even converted the non-Reptilians, to some degree!

Do you have any sort of proposal to bridge this divide, or assuage fears?
>Write-in if so [low DC sociability roll; failure will be a demerit]
>Let it pass [instant demerit]
If three diplomatic demerits are acquired before the quest ends, there will be grave consequences.
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>>6081715
[Oh, and I should note...]
You can also take advantage of this opportunity to throw Theral and/or Ekaterine under the proverbial carriage to improve your own standing in advance of your upcoming elven trial
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>>6081715
shit, he got us. how do we make it at least seem less bad than it is ?
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>“If three diplomatic demerits are acquired before the quest ends, there will be grave consequences.”
Bro think hes him
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>>6081715
Dang, this is a tough one, and I'm not sure how to argue against it even with meta knowledge.

Maybe give Theral a chance to speak up for himself here? Hopefully he doesn't go with "Yes the allegations are true I'm just waiting for my chance to kill you all."
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>>6081715
>Write-in: It was during my studies on the moon. I over heard conversation amongst the Eldrin. That the dark gods, the wild gods and the bonum legate have already signed and regularly negotiate on a treaty of non-aggression. In order in avoid mutual annihilation or the destruction of life on this planet. Since we mortal creatures all equally depend on the stability of life on this realm. moreso than the gods do. It is wise that we should avoid any religious wars of annihilation and accept that the dark gods are here to stay for the foreseeable future.

If the gods of light can make a truce with the pantheon of darkness itself. It would make no sense for us mortals to be obligated to declare war on the servants of darkness.
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>>6081764
+1

I feel like we do need a proposal to assuage fears here, though.
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>>6081747
[Actually one of the few Sojourner quests I haven't checked played. I couldn't get into it.]
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>>6081764
>+1
>>6081779
Was it due to time constraints or the femboy wasn’t up to your taste ?
>>
I’m >>6081525
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>>6081715
Qinfir’s description doesn’t give the whole picture.

1) Theral stated he puts the dark and light gods in equal importance. He did not force further influence of the dark gods in Hawksong - even though he could have done so - to further his status and power in the dark gods’ eyes.*

*(Not sure if Tips knows this or not)

2) The unseelie fey - who intended to threaten and conquer other cities and countries - were stopped partly because of Theral. He has assisted us (Tips & Izzy) in a project which was instrumental in stopping the unseelie fey. He also refused to give them a sword which would bring legitimacy to their claim and strengthen themselves with the drows.

3) A champion of the dark gods, an heir whose ancestors fought against both man and elf, hasn’t done a very simple and easy move which could be tactically advantageous to himself and his kingdom if he were to bolster his own power; stealing or copying the moonberry grown on Old Maple. Him and his allies were aware of it when it was first grown, spied on us, but did not tamper or request a sample. He made clear his fear of hawksong and the sylvan realms marching on Bloodrise because of the moonberries in our meeting. If he truly wanted nothing but power for himself, he would not have passed up such a chance.


That’s my argument.
1. Equality regarding religion
2. Usefulness as an ally
3. Faith in Hawksong and peaceful resolution

>>6081764
Hm. I’m not sure if that is that relevant. Qinfir doesn’t seem to be talking about a MAD situation but rather a slow conversion of hawksong into a vassal state of bloodrise because of Theral’s current power.

Am >>6081342
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>>6081890
>Theral stated he puts the dark and light gods in equal importance.
Did he though? Seems kinda weird for an antipaladin devoted to the Dark Gods to say...
>He did not force further influence of the dark gods in Hawksong - even though he could have done so
Could he have though? I dunno, those paladins seem pretty entrenched.

>2) The unseelie fey - who intended to threaten and conquer other cities and countries - were stopped partly because of Theral. He has assisted us (Tips & Izzy) in a project which was instrumental in stopping the unseelie fey.
Did he though? Wiping them out was a pretty spontaneous decision, and the star was meant to help them.
>He also refused to give them a sword which would bring legitimacy to their claim and strengthen themselves with the drows.
Did he though? Wasn't he going to give them the sword in exchange for services rendered, and the only reason he didn't was because we offered to make them their own star instead?

>He made clear his fear of hawksong and the sylvan realms marching on Bloodrise because of the moonberries in our meeting. If he truly wanted nothing but power for himself, he would not have passed up such a chance.
This doesn't quite make sense to me. Did he pass the moonberries up because he doesn't care for power, or because he feared taking them would lead to him and his kingdom being wiped out?
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>>6081882
>Was it due to time constraints or the femboy wasn’t up to your taste ?
[I'm not intrinsically averse to a femboy quest (obviously), but the bit I read just didn't win my ovwr wirh the chemistry. Unlike other Soj quests with femboys, the relationship seemed to be the central (only?) element, so there just wasn't anything for me there. It may have changed, since, since >>6081747 seems to be suggesting it became a tense diplomatic game.]

>>6081890
>>6082003
[Theral's motivations are not wholly known to Tips, but he would be free to speculate or make assumptions without technically lying. He's also free to lie. I will note three things which Tips has serious reason to believe about Theral, though, based on previous conversations: he loves and fears for his family, and views the Sylvan Realms as a threat; he has slipped up and referred to the Gods fo Light as "The Falssse Godsss" at least once in conversation with his subordinate; he came to the table because he was pleased to hear a prophecy wherein his descendant would take over the world.]
>>
I mean the obvious way to guarantee peace between the realms is a hostage exchange. But I didn't suggest it because I don't think Theral would go for it. I'm kind of rethinking that, though.
>>
>>6082009
>It may have changed, since, since >>(You) seems to be suggesting it became a tense diplomatic game.
Pretty much. Thread two basically has the prince traveling and staying at his mom’s place for a bit.

>>6082003
>Theral stated he puts the dark and light gods in equal importance.
>Did he though? Seems kinda weird for an antipaladin devoted to the Dark Gods to say...
He stated it in antipaladin quest. In his marriage vow and in the second to last thread where he wants to keep both of them equal.

>2) The unseelie fey - who intended to threaten and conquer other cities and countries - were stopped partly because of Theral. He has assisted us (Tips & Izzy) in a project which was instrumental in stopping the unseelie fey.
>Did he though? Wiping them out was a pretty spontaneous decision, and the star was meant to help them.
I’m embellishing the story a little bit. Of course we were the ones that wiped them out, but technically he did try to help us with the star project. Right now, showing to the elves that he’s useful is important, so that’s why I chose to say it like that.

>He also refused to give them a sword which would bring legitimacy to their claim and strengthen themselves with the drows.
>Did he though? Wasn't he going to give them the sword in exchange for services rendered, and the only reason he didn't was because we offered to make them their own star instead?
I’m embellishing it here as well.

>He made clear his fear of hawksong and the sylvan realms marching on Bloodrise because of the moonberries in our meeting. If he truly wanted nothing but power for himself, he would not have passed up such a chance.
>This doesn't quite make sense to me. Did he pass the moonberries up because he doesn't care for power, or because he feared taking them would lead to him and his kingdom being wiped out?
He could have stole the moonberry bushes if he wanted. It would be an easy way of bolstering his own power. But he didn’t. He put faith in us and hawksong to not march on him, despite his fears being being marched on.

That’s basically what was said in the meeting way back in thread 5 iirc.
>>
>>6082026
I’m not sure what exchange we could do. The captured unseelie? Or are you referring to Tips being transferred?
>>
>>6082042
They hold one of Theral’s children. Theral holds a priestess/princess or preferably a male hostage so he doesn’t fuck them.
>>
>>6082040
>He stated it in antipaladin quest. In his marriage vow and in the second to last thread where he wants to keep both of them equal.
All I'm seeing is an oath he took to not put his worship over his duties as King/Consort, nothing to do with the Gods of Light. Even if he had though, how would Ezreal know about this and bring it up?

>Embellishment
Yeah it's pretty heavy, we probably would need to pass a deceit check.

>He could have stole the moonberry bushes if he wanted. It would be an easy way of bolstering his own power. But he didn’t. He put faith in us and hawksong to not march on him, despite his fears being being marched on.
They could counterargue that he didn't steal them because doing so would vastly increase the chances that he immediately gets marched on.
>>
>>6082051
dumbest post Ive ever read, have you not been reading anything about Theral, he is the way he is because he has familial values, eccentric ones sure, but family isnt a thing in reptilian culture and he proved love was a core fundamental for one of their walking gods being the Red Dragon who Theral spoke with in frequent like the fucking 9 tailed fox in his chest before having a year long wrestling match over his own body ending with him eating Big Red and gaining his mana pool
>>
>>6082131
Hey retard. Why do you think I said he probably wouldn't accept it and so I didn't suggest it?

And the entire point of hostages is that they're so valuable that breaking of a treaty is unthinkable. His family values are precisely why an hostage exchange is a way to absolutely guarantee peace and assuage the concerns of the Elves. And presumably they would give someone of equal importance. Do you think I'm saying Theral wouldn't give a shit if he gave a kid as a hostage and that why he should do it? Then what would be the entire point of the hostage exchange?
>>
>>6081715
>Lets be brutally honest- if it was Long Wang’s intention to declare a crusade against the forces of Light, he would’ve done it earlier, during the Reptilian plague. He would’ve done it when you held his son hostage. The fact that he chose restraint, instead offensive reaction, proves that Long Wang and his kingdom can be responsible geo-political actor, instead of a ravaging horde bent on burning the world asunder.
I would also point out him being the Moodsword’s wielder if applicable- and in private, say that if the Moonsword chose him as it’s master, there must be some Light in him that can turn him over to the Light side (We can fix him, I swear!)

>Also (assuming Long Wang agrees), we can have the heir raised with lessons from the Light Gods (in practice with lessons from the Dark Pantheon), as a potential bargaining chip.
Given that Long Wang’s victory condition with MoD was just siring an heir, I don’t think he’ll really care about their attempts to educate his spawn- I think he’ll find the idea darkly amusing. He’ll put up a loud fuss over it though- can’t be giving the Elves a freebie, got to get something of value from it.

Also like >>6081764 and >>6081890.

>>6082009
>he came to the table because he was pleased to hear a prophecy wherein his descendant would take over the world
That argument for political union with the Moon Princess does sound more tempting- subverting the prophecy by making a child of the Light Pantheon heir to the New World Order.
>>
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>>6082201
>>6081890
>>6081882
>>6081776
>>6081764
>>6081759
[Please see pic related. Have I counted this correctly? Would anyone like to amend their votes to explicitly include or exclude any of the following broad points?]

>theral, hop in any time
>peace is good enough for the gods…
>evidence of theral's good works
>evidence of theral's restraint
>sunday school for hawksong's heir
>mention the holy elf sword theral still has
>maybe marry a moon princess?
>maybe do a hostage exchange?

[I'll close the vote tonight or tomorrow, depending how I'm feeling and how quickly people weigh in.]
>>
>>6082331
I'll include Hawksong sunday school as a part of my vote.
>>
>>6082331
>peace is good enough for the gods…
>mention the holy elf sword theral still has
These are good points and we actually know about them IC

>maybe marry a moon princess?
This one's really dumb, let's not do it I don't want to look dumb in front of everyone.
>>
>>6082331
I support >>6082201
>Lets be brutally honest- if it was Long Wang’s intention to declare a crusade against the forces of Light, he would’ve done it earlier, during the Reptilian plague. He would’ve done it when you held his son hostage. The fact that he chose restraint, instead offensive reaction, proves that Long Wang and his kingdom can be responsible geo-political actor, instead of a ravaging horde bent on burning the world asunder.

Not sure if that is “evidence of good works” or “restraint”
>>
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Rolled 13, 18, 11, 4, 16, 2, 19 = 83 (7d20)

>>6082354
>>6082350
>>6082339
>>6082331
noticed a discrepancy in my count. Going to try to do some intention-blending here to get an update out.

You well understand the tensions at play, and how important it is to address and alleviate them if this process is to move forward. On the other hand, though, you don’t want to straight up LIE. Partly, this is because you like to think of yourself as a chaser of truths, and an honest elf—err, man. The other part is purely pragmatic: if your assessments of King Theral is TOO glowing, they Sylvan delegation will probably suspect you are ‘embellishing. They might even think you’re brainwashed, or otherwise in his thrall, given the Dragon King’s history and his race’s reputation!

So, you got the direct route.

“Those are all good points,” you admit. “But lets be brutally honest: none of our people can AFFORD a holy war right now, can we?”

All eyes are upon you now. You force a smile. Well, it seems you’ve united the whole of the table…

“The Pax Argentum stands strong!” the Paladin in attendance decares, speaking his first words of the conference and standing up. “Our swords, our shields, our hearts, our faith… And our gryphons! They all stand ready to defend our realms against evil!”

Pete Gardien the Pit Guard asks his master something quietly, but obviously angrily, in his spitting, rasping tognue.

“Here here,” the halfling-in-black agrees, glaring at you. “Let’s show him our strength as a nation!”

“Permisssion denied,” the Dragon King says bluntly, though you see a simmering tension beneath his calm façade as he waits for you to elaborate.

“The magic of the Sylvan Realms is unmatched, and our ancient secrets are more than the match for any invasion,” the sun-masked elven priest declares. “You, more than any almost any other foreigner, should know that!”

You withhold your indignation at being called an outsider to your own culture, and at this break with eh rules of decorum which you had JUST set. Instea,d you latch upon the elfman’s points to continue your thought, and prove your thesis.

“That’s right—I DO know better than many. After all, I’ve BEEN to the moon—to Holy Luna. I’ve SEEN the world as they do. I overheard conversation amongst those who serve the Lunar Court. The entire reason we’re even taking about conflicts of nations is because the Wars in Heaven are OVER. The Gods—ALL of our gods—made a peace deal very much like the one we’re discussing, here and now. The Wild Gods, the Gods of Law and Order… The Dark Gods, too. They ALL realized that peace was the only way to avoid mutual annihilation or the destruction of all life on Earth. Any don’t WE depend on the stability of this world even more? Is what’s good enough for those we worship NOT good enough for US?”

Rolling Sociability, Sense Motive, and adding an extra die for Religion
>>
>>6082380
An uncomfortable silence hangs over the table, as your religious rhetoric seems to shame those who are capable of shame, and cow the remainder as they consider whether they really want to walk where gods fear to tread.

“That only holds true as long as destruction is MUTUALLY assured,” Commander Qinfir breaks the quietude. “That’s the concern here: that the Forces of Darkness are going to tilt the balance in their favour, and destroy us when they have nothing to fear in retaliation.”

“Commander, please,” you plead. “If it was King Theral’s intention to declare a crusade against the Children of Light, he would’ve done it earlier, during the Reptilian plague. He would’ve done it when you held his son hostage. The fact that he chose restraint PROVES that King Theral and his people can be more than a ravaging horde bent on burning the world asunder.

“It proves they are patient, not merciful.” The Ranger commander’s words strike so close to home that you wince. “What about which spawn controls Hawksong?”


“Sso you ssugesst that Hawksssong holds the balancce of power?” The Dragon King interjects from across the table, with a gnash of his teeth. “You, who tried to weaponize its powersss against usss in the termsss you ssset my wife, attempting to get her to authorize my people’sss exxtinction?”

He makes a strange, choking sound you take for a scoff.

“Yet you accusse USSS of manipulating the governancce of the ccity, and itss Paladinsss, while you bully them into agreeing with you by threatening the Queen’sss own child!”

“Well… What if The Heir of Hawksong was neutralized as a threat?”

For the second time in a scant few minuets all eye are angrily fixed upon you again.

“Wait, wait, let me finish!” you protest.

>18 for Religion/Sociability

Thankfully, they do, and once you’ve come to the conclusion you aren’t going to be lynched in the middle of the land reserve by a multiethnic coalition of outrage, you continue:

“What if the Heir was raised, and taught, to know the faith of the Good Gods.”

The serpentine scholar called ‘Translator’ holds up a finger to request permission to speak; when granted, he says: “’Good’ godsss iss a loaded term. It implies that our—”

(Uuuugh)

“His MOTHER’S gods, then,” you all-but groan. “You all know what I mean!”

“I do,” the Dragon King agrees, not sounding altogether pleased.

“I don’t know that it would be so bad, Theral,” Queen Ekaterine suggests.

“Frankly, it is EXPECTED of anyone who will occupy the Paladin King’s throne,” the Paladin in attendance adds officiously, and the Hawksong councilman nods sagely nods in agreeance.
>>
>>6082388
You can sense that the proposal piques the interest of Commander Qinfir, though he does not speak up. Rather, he is observing The Dragon King’s reaction, and you do likewise. His tells are subtle, and you can tell he is trying to hide it, but you know something of animal— and thus therianthropic—body language. He is agitated, maybe angry.

>19 for Sense Motive

No… Well, maybe. It’s more than moral outrage, though: he is AFRAID.

“Sso you shall all teach my own flesh and blood to ssee me asss an enemy? Asss an adversary? To hate hiss father, his ancessstorss?”

“Theral, nobody is saying—”

“Nobody isss ssaying it, no,” he spits. “Everyone iss merely glorying in the thought of it: of turning a CHILD who you ssee as little more than a weapon into one that can be weilded ME and MY kind, to resstore the old order—to force usss to ssuffer unssseen in the darknessss below!”

The Queen recoils slightly from the outburst of temper, and the Dragon King’s body language softens, ever so slightly, as he turns to you, seemingly regarding you with renewed caution, as if assessing whether you are really an ally-and, if so, what you might be playing at, and how he (and you, and your prophesied shared descendants) can benefit from whatever you are working on.

You suspect you can seal the deal, if you push forward as-is. However, if Bloodrise’s King sees no compensating or mitigating factors in exchange moving forward, you—and the Sylvan Realms—may lose he and his people’s trust in the long term, which could be problematic down the line. But then again, Bloodrise is a small kingdom, and Hawksong’s deliberate refusal to engage in hostilities with them might be all that’s making them look so fearsome.

You have the momentum—what will you do with it?
>Keep the idea as is: Queen Ekaterine’s child will be schooled in the ways of the Gods of Light, and curbed towards their purposes [+1 demerit]
>Suggest that the Heir be raised in both his cultures—taught of both Light and Dark pantheons, and allowed to freely decide
>Suggest that in exchange for this great sacrifice made by the Dragon King, the Sylvan Realms and Hawksong should offer something to Bloodrise in exchange [what?]
>Suggest another caveat, or a different solution [write-in]
>>
>>6082389
>Suggest that the Heir be raised in both his cultures—taught of both Light and Dark pantheons, and allowed to freely decide
>>
>>6082389
>Suggest that the Heir be raised in both his cultures—taught of both Light and Dark pantheons, and allowed to freely decide
>>
>>6082392
>>6082393
>>6082389
[Oh, and while I imagine it's implicit, the demerit option WOULD come with increased status with the elves who are soon going to have you on-trial.]
>>
>>6082389
>Suggest that the Heir be raised in both his cultures—taught of both Light and Dark pantheons, and allowed to freely decide

Am>>6081890


>>6082399
I’d rather not risk a demerit. The whole point of our quest is the resolution to this cloak and dagger bullshit.
>>
>>6082389
>>Suggest that the Heir be raised in both his cultures—taught of both Light and Dark pantheons, and allowed to freely decide
>>
I do think we should take a strategic demerit at the END of negotiations. I'd rather not be imprisoned and leave Costella, Izzy, and our unborn child to their own devices. Though, it's probably unnecessary because of our deal with the moon goddess.
>>
>>6082646
Fair, but this doesn’t look like the end yet. I’ll wait.
>>
>>6082399
noted
>>
[Expect a delay -- I am hanging with a bud at the bar after work.]
>>
>>6082632
>>6082403
>>6082393
>>6082392
You’re hardly even tempted by this chance to hurl King Theral to the vegetarian wolves of the Woodland Rangers. You know it would likely mitigate your own imminent issues with them, but you genuinely want peace and stability more than your own freedom. It almost surprises you how little temptation there is, though there IS discomfort of a different sort. After all…

“I think a child of Hawksong AND Bloodrise should be free to learn of both aspects of their heritage, and to reach their own conclusions.”

“We should allow the heir the chance to be evil?” Commander Qinfir balks.

You hear a quiet hiss of displeasure from the Dragon King at that, and the soft clatter of his talons drumming upon the table, but his eyes flit to his worried wife, and to your surprise the Antipaladin quails again before the displeasure of the daughter of the Paladin King.

“Are we not all afforded that chance by the Gods?” you remind the Ranger Commander instead. “If they didn’t want us to make a hoice, why allow free will at all?”

“The Gods don’t discourage us from offering the best opportunity and example possible, and a safe space in which to learn goodness and truth.”

“And that’s what we WILL be doing!” you insist.

“Yesss.” The rolling, greasy rumble of the Dragon King’s pleasure joins the fray. “Are you ssso sscared that your godsss cannot make their casse, that they are ‘good’ and ‘true’?”

“I rather fear YOUR gods are too expert in deceit and manipulation, you…”

“Commander Qinfir,” interrupts the paladin in attendance. “I will personally see to it, as a Paladin of Moroth and Marese, that the child is kept safe from any… Influences… Beyond the rhetorical, AND that there is a strong case made for the virtue of the TRUE Gods.”

“I look forward to the sspirited debate, Sssir Marzineo,” the Dragon King enthuses mockingly.

The Ranger Commander takes a meditative inhalation through his nostrils, and back out through his mouth.

“Very well,” he acknowledges. “We place all our hopes in you… Sir Marzineo.”

The paladin bows his head in recognition of the burden. The agreement is struck. Before long, and to your great relief, one agreement leads to another in principle, and then to another and another. The personal truly does outweigh the political, it seems, even in the minds of these nobles, champions, and warlords—with matter of the child settled, the whole of their nations have their fates settled much more amicably. Perhaps tempers heated and properly, thoroughly cooled are slow to boil over once more? The Dragon King even manages to secure the release of his captured half-elven assets, in exchange for a clause promising never to return to the programs that bred them, or to send they or any other Infiltrators to the Sylvan Realms again.

Maybe there really IS a hope for a lasting peace?
>>
>>6083022
However, your OWN peace will have to wait. With the three nations of Hawksong, Bloodrise, and the Free Union of Sylvan Realms (its formally jurisdiction for such high-level diplomatic documents, you discover) signed to in triplicate—The Old Maple Hill Accord, it might one day be called—the signatories stand and prepare to go their separate ways…

Except for you and yours. You remain seated, with Izirina and Costella at your sides, and before you stands Ranger Commander Qinfir, looking down at you thoughtfully.

“Is your intent still to stand trial for your… Actions?” he asks, stopping just short of calling them ‘crimes’, and thus (publicly) pre-judging you a guilt-ridden criminal.

Costella pouts, eyes watering, and cling to your arm as if prepared to fight to keep you here. Izirina barely moves a muscle, but you see her hate lift and its brim flutter as the ever-present whorl of wind around her whips up into a tight transparent tornado of anger. All of you had agreed to this—or, well, you’d told the girls, and they’d seemed to understand. Now, with the reality of it stark before them, it seems neither wants to let you go.

(Gods, you’re a lucky man…)

You catch sight of the departing retinues of the Queen and Prince Consort of Hawksong. The reptilians have donned their disguises again, so that it is again the red-bearded Eastman, Long Wang, who glances your way in the midst of a discussion with Queen Ekaterine. You see his hand move to his sword, and he raises his eyebrows with non-instinctive deliberateness, a signal, a question: ‘do you need help?’

(…Huh. Is the lizardman actually displaying… Mutualism? Gratitude and reciprocity? They really DO have some goodness deep down, don’t they?)

You look back to Commander Qinfir. He is waiting, not impatiently, but also with a grim seriousness.

How do you respond?
>You will. You’re ready to go home and stand trial. [+elven empathy, -ego]
>You will, honestly… But you have a marriage coming up first. Can he wat until after you and Costella are wedded? [Sociability roll, low DC]
>You know what… You actually confess. You’re guilty. No need for the trial. You simply plead mercy, and ask that you be judged here, and punished in a way that doesn’t take you away from your friends and family. [Sociability roll, medium DC]
>You feel that the blessing of the goddess effectively clears you of charges and proves your innocence, while your loss of magical power and elven blood serves as punishment enough, and removes you from Sylvan jurisdiction. [Demerit if you fail a Religion roll, high DC]
>Actually, you’d rather not. King Theral! Didn’t you secure ‘the freedom and amnesty for all your agents’? Doesn’t that include me? [Adds 1d3 demerits]
>Write-in
>>
>>6083023
>You will. You’re ready to go home and stand trial. [+elven empathy, -ego]

We can please mercy there. It's time to own up to what we did.
>>
>>6083023
I’m undecided about this one. One on hand going there immediately would help with our case. On the other hand I really don’t want Costella to be ostracized because of a pregnancy outside wedlock - that invites retaliation from Carlos and his family, too. So a marriage with her first would be nice. That being said there’s Izzy’s pregnancy that is still unanswered. I think the archmage would care at least somewhat. The more I thought about this, the more unlikely this is going to be a quick trial and we’ll be back before they give birth. The moon goddess said she would never kill one of her own but doesn’t necessarily say she won’t lock them up or banish them. I really don’t want to see Costella and Izzy raising children on their own. Costella especially.

>You will, honestly… But you have a marriage coming up first. Can he wat until after you and Costella are wedded? [Sociability roll, low DC]
One answer is better than none.
>>
>>6083023
>You will. You’re ready to go home and stand trial. [+elven empathy, -ego]
Finally the ego reduction
>>
>>6083131
>+1
good point, anon
>>
>>6083023
>>6083131
I agree with your points but just a reminder we have a metagame mechanic of knowing the DeGori family including Carlos arent going to meddle in our affairs any longer after our meeting with the queen, I still agree about the other things however and still want this wedding to happen before we get put in tree jail
>You will, honestly… But you have a marriage coming up first. Can he wait until after you and Costella are wedded? [Sociability roll, low DC]
>>
>>6080684
me
>>
>>6083264
That was then. The pregnancy complicate things.
>>
>>6083023
>>You feel that the blessing of the goddess effectively clears you of charges and proves your innocence, while your loss of magical power and elven blood serves as punishment enough, and removes you from Sylvan jurisdiction. [Demerit if you fail a Religion roll, high DC]
>>
>>6083023
>You will. You’re ready to go home and stand trial. [+elven empathy, -ego]
>>
>>6083545
>>6083374
>>6083264
>>6083155
>>6083138
>>6083131
>>6083047
[If I'm not mistaken, we have a tie. >>6083374 you may wish to choose one of the other options to break it.]
>>
>>6083805
[Given it's an important vote, I'd rather not resolve it with a roll, but will do so tomorrow after work in a pinch]
>>
>>6083805
The closest one would be the wedding thing I guess.
>>
Rolled 19, 12, 2, 12 = 45 (4d20)

>>6083545
>>6083264
>>6083155
>>6083138
>>6083131
>>6083047
>>6083928
“I will,” you say.

You can feel the tension increase a notch furth. The Commander isn’t oblivious to it, either, by the shift in his stance—no elfman with any affinity for observing aura could fail to notice the signs that Izirina is preparing to cast something. Even you, human as you now are, can detect the ozone in the air. Before the other elves can form up on their leader, and spoil everything you’ve worked towards, you place a hand upon her leg beneath the table, and give her knee a squeeze. Instantly, izirina’s escalation ceases; the wind let out of her sails, she deflates, and her rage fizzles.

“I can’t yet, though, sir.”

“Master Magus…”

There is sympathy in Commander Qinfir’s face. He is no cold and reptilian creature after all, and even the leader of THEIR ilk was willing to lend you aid—though now, seeing you are submitting, the Dragon King turns is head and returns to more pleasant conversation with his wife and their companion. As for the Ranger Commander, well… Surely he must be understand your position:

“My fiancé and I, we… Have a wedding, of some urgency. It is a human custom of some importance.”

“I know of weddings, Magus.” The Ranger Commander seems amused at your explanation. “It cannot wait until your return?”

“Then he’s going to be going back?” Costalla seizes upon his words. “Like, for sure?”

“Given his cooperation, and…”

(And a deity speaking up in your favour?)

“…Well, let us say I do not foresee a death sentence, or life imprisonment.”

“Death?!” balks Costella, with a gasp.

“Either would seem remarkably hypocritical, from the people preaching freedom and goodness,” says Izirina tersely, barley moving, her hat and glasses hiding her face.

“…Apologies, Magus, and Miss Fanucci.” The Ranger Commander bows his head slightly, removing his cap. “It was an attempt to lighten the mood. Obviously, the Sylvan Realms would not inflict a punishment like that upon an e—a man who has done much good for the world, including today.”

“But I will still be punished?”

The Commander’s face hardens a bit, as he replaces his cap.

“That remains to be seen,” he says.

“Do you know when I might return?”

“That, too, remains to be seen.”

You think of the burgeoning life growing within Costella—a life you made certain was rooted in place, by the use of your spirit-sense and with some alchemical encouragement. The child of the three of you, fragile and half-formed, and with the eyes of dark powers already upon them… Not to mention how the Fanucci family might react to you being absent, and Costella unwed, if you’re gone more than nine months. Or what if the baby comes early? What if there are complications?!

“…Please, Commander, sir… I give you my word I’ll come quietly, but I just need a bit more time.”
>>
>19
Its peak
>>
>>6084476
>>6084485
The Commander’s expression is grave. You can tell that this sort of extension worries him. Perhaps he suspects you mean to evade your rial altogether, or that such extenuating circumstances might continually crop up to provide excuses such as this.

>19

However, it is a might man indeed who can resist the charm offensive of Costella Fanucci, who stand sup and pulls you with her, into a close embrace.

“Please, sir?” she asks, and already you can see the old elf’s resolve crack.

“Very well,” he says with a sigh. “As I understand it, you have the means to reach the Sylvanwood in less time than most, yes?”

“Yes,” Izzy quickly replies, with a vague air of menace, “I do.”

“See that you do, then,” he says, and give you and Costella a n apologetic half-smile. “I can’t remain to offer proper congratulations on what should be a day for celebration, but I can offer you this much.”

“Thank you!” Costella gushes. “Thankyouthankyou THAANK YOOUUU!”

The Ranger Commander holds up a hand, stemming the giddy tide of gratitude.

“You have until the next New Moon,” he says seriously. “If you ahven’t appeared at the western gate to the Realms by then… I will come back. At that point, there will be no more negotiations.”

The three of you tense up at the implication.

“I’m sorry,” he says, with a bow and with all apparent sincerity.

When the visiting dignities have all departed, you and the girls set about helping the other Hilliers (as some of the humans and small-folk have taken to calling themselves). Honestly, the minotaur Baajaban does the bulk of the work, affording your trio the time to properly debrief emotionally.

“W-well, it’s good news, right?” Costella asks. “Qinfir made it sound like it was just going to be, like, a slap on the wrist?”

“Or that he felt bad for how long Tips would be gone,” Izirina points out joylessly.

“But, like, not for a LIFETIME, right?” Costella retorts hopefully, looking between the two of you.

“Elves live a lot longer than humans,” Izirina points out, before amending: “under normal circumstances, anyway. What might be a short sentence to an elf…”

…Could still be years. She doesn’t need to say it: you all understand. A gloomy atmosphere overtakes what ought to be a moment of victory and relief.

“We’ll just have to make it count, then, right?” says Costella, with forced cheer.

“Right,” you say, giving her hand a squeeze.

“…Right,” agrees Izzy, without conviction.
>>
>>6084487
One month… One more month, in which to be married. One more month, before… Whatever happens, happens, and you face judgement for your crimes against your gods and kinfolk.

What will you do, with your remaining month? Choose up to two:
>Meet with your father to discuss your situation, and to seek advice or solace
>Speak with your Master, Archmage Henzler, about the true, full provenance of your unborn child
>Ask someone else [who] to accompany you to the Sylvan Realms
>Attempt reconciliation with Costella’s family, that the Fanuccis might still attend your nuptials
>Plan your escape route, should you disapprove your sentence
>Write-in
>>
>>6084488
>Attempt reconciliation with Costella’s family, that the Fanuccis might still attend your nuptials
>Plan your escape route, should you disapprove your sentence
>>
>>6084488
>Meet with your father to discuss your situation, and to seek advice or solace
>Speak with your Master, Archmage Henzler, about the true, full provenance of your unborn child
gotta saw our, hopefully not last, farewell to our old man. and while I'm not 100% trusting the archmage, she's trustworthy enough and she's the grandman of our kid, afterall.
>>
>>6084488
>Meet with your father to discuss your situation, and to seek advice or solace

Depending on our sentence it’s quite possible our father could die before its end. While it’s not a life sentence I could see a 10-15 year imprisonment which might be enough. We should say our goodbyes just in case.

>Attempt reconciliation with Costella’s family, that the Fanuccis might still attend your nuptials
>>
>>6084488

>Meet with your father to discuss your situation, and to seek advice or solace
Advice.
>Attempt reconciliation with Costella’s family, that the Fanuccis might still attend your nuptials
We don’t have a lot of time.

Am >>6083131
>>
>>6084488
>Attempt reconciliation with Costella’s family, that the Fanuccis might still attend your nuptials

>Meet with your father to discuss your situation, and to seek advice or solace

You know, during the elf trial if they do give a long sentence we can ask them to postpone it for 8 decades or so. Or maybe we can spend it under Sylvan Realm house arrest with visitation rights and Izzy can teleport in with Costella whenever.
>>
>>6084488
>>Attempt reconciliation with Costella’s family, that the Fanuccis might still attend your nuptials
>>Plan your escape route, should you disapprove your sentence
>>
>>6084642
>>6084607
>>6084598
>>6084597
>>6084535
>>6084531
One of the first things you consider, to your amusement and immediate incredulity, is a meeting with Archmage Henzler. After all, there IS the matter of a certain High Magic tomb complex you’d planned to explore… But almost immediately, you dismiss the notion. Your Master is a strange and aloof woman, and you can’t imagine any good coming from the meeting; in fact, you’d say it’s a toss-up whether you’d receive indifference and scorn, or unwelcome intervention which would serve to worsen your situation and spoil your diplomatic gains.

You settle for writing her a letter, explaining—to put it euphemistically—that you will be taking an indeterminate leave of absence form your duties.

“Without my research income, though…”

“Mine will cover it,” Izirina assures you.

“But with the baby and—”

“Tips.” Izzy forces a smile. “I promise I’ll take care of… Of our child.”

Anew, you feel a wash of shame and dread. It’s not that you don’t think Izirina is capable, of course. She might have inherited or acquired certain… Eccentricities… But she HAS grown a lot these last few years, emotionally. The confrontation and schism with Ayla did her some good, you suspect, as did your time together in the wastelands. But, well… She’s still Izzy. And Costella is still COSTELLA—also capable, MORE than capable in fact—but the sort of person who you know benefits from having emotional support… Support Izzy alone probably can’t provide.

She needs her family, and to untangle THAT mess, you need yours.

“Ezreal, my child! It’s been too long!” your father greets you, arms spread wide, only to stop short, blinking in confusion. “Say, you look a little different. What happened to your ears, my boy?”

It HAS been a while since you last saw your father, Rudolfo Van Houtzmann. It’s not that you’ve been AVOIDING him or anything. You’ve just… Been busy. From time to time, you have grabbed a flagon or two with he and Pearce, but between your own hectic schedule of legal jeopardy, political drama, and magical breakthroughs, and with Zith-Zi still away in Bloodrise, your social calendar has simply… Lapsed.

“Think nothing of it, nothing at all,” Rudolfo waves away your half-formed apology, and slaps you on the back, with a raucous grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. “I imagine those girls of yours have been keeping you plenty busy, wot?”

“Actually, I came here about them… Well, sort of.”
>>
>>6085175
Your father guides you to the run-down tavern where the two of you first met—both as men, or at least of the age to be a human man in your case. The irony is not lost on you that you’ve since come to trust the man—even respect him in a way—enough to ask him for advice now that you are to be a father yourself. There, over a pint of mediocre-yet-nostalgic ale, he tells you of his exploits as an instructor to the young adventurer set, and a contract written with the Grey Press, a local tabloid printing agency, to publish a series of adventure serials.

(You think he’s perhaps exaggerating the extent of the contract, but nod along. It’s good to see him actually thinking about how to pay his bills, and account for his retirement… Sort of.)

In turn you tell him of all that has transpired, insofar as you can in such a venue: of how you became fully-human, and a pariah to the True Fey, and defeated the Unseelie, found compromise with an Antipaladin, and agreed to stand trial for the path you traveled to get there… And the family you’ll be leaving behind to do so.

“A grandchild!” Ruldolfo exclaims. “Well huzzah to THAT, my boy! And which of the two was it, ey? Who's oven's baking the little bun, hm? Spill it!”

“That’s not… Ugh.” You sigh. “Costella.”

“HaHA!” Your father clears his throat. “Either’s a fine choice, either is good, but, well… The apple, as they say, doesn’t fall far from the tree, ey wot? And plenty fo time for the other lady to be so lucky, wot?”

“Apart from the whole matter of my possible imprisonment,” you remind him dryly.

“Imprisonment, you say? Well, the elfy sort’s not going to be the worst kind to be in, ey wot?”

“That’s not exactly the point,” you grumble. “I just don’t want to leave them, you know… Without recourse. What if something geos wrong? What if they need help, and I’m not around?”

“Mm,” your father says, nodding thoughtfully and raking his fingers through his beard as if trying to remove a particularly bad knot. “That IS quite the condrium, innit?”

You sigh, and nod.

“Well, how did you and your mother manage?” he asks brightly.

You give Rudolfo a long pointed look, and he holds up his hands defensively.

“Now hold on! Put away the pitchforks!” he laughs nervously. “I’m not saying it was right, or that I’d do things the same way again. But, well, you turned out rather alright, didn’t you? And as much as… Well, as there were wasted years, and years we shan’t be getting back… I never worried for your well-being, do you know that? Not even when I heard tell of you. Not once.”

“…You don’t say?” you prompt, not sure where he’s going with this.
>>
>>6085177
“It was because of your mother,” Rudolfo intimates, leaning forwards and cupping his mouth to accompany his stage whisper. “I fought alongside Mylaerlea. I traveled the wide world with her! I knew what she was capable of, and that she would be there for you, to patch you up if anything went awry. And she has a good head on her shoulders, that woman—I knew if you stumbled off the path, she’d see you right.”

“…Right,” you say, not entirely convinced in principle or in practice, given your various magical-medical mishaps imminent trial as a rather serious criminal.

“Well, from where I’m sitting—at a ripe old seventy-eight and still spry, innit, and thanks to YOUR magic?—I can’t exactly say she did a bad job.”

He grins and taps your flagon with his own, prompting you to take a drink.

“You’ve practically bought us world peace—for a time, at least, for a time, and what more can a man ask for than peace in his time? And you’ve set those girls of yours up with quite the estate—LAND, like a blue-bleeding NOBLEMAN, and in-despite of being, well, you know.”

“Some rogue’s half-blooded bastard?” you suggest, wryly.

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t,” Rudolfo says with a wink.

“I just… Don’t want to miss everything, I guess,” you admit. “I’m worried for the, but also for me. I want to BE there. A year or two back now, I resolved to spend less time absent, and away, and with my head in a book or in another plane of existence. Yet it all just… Just kept getting away from me. And now I’M going to be away—FAR away, again, for longer than ever!”

Your father regards you levelly, and seems genuinely thoughtful. After a time, he speaks:

“Listen, Ezreal… There are some men than can stay in one place, and focus on the here and now. They can be present in the moment, in the thick of it, the day-to-day, and never flinch or flag. And those men, I’ve got nothing but good things to say about ‘em!”

He reaches out and adjusts your cap, and looks at your face-really looks at it, broader and more human and, you realize, more like his than it had ever before. He must see it more plainly even than you, by the tender look in his eyes.

“You’re a child of mine, though, Ezreal. We’re men of adventure, of action. We’re travelers—how did you always say it? ‘Seekers’? Different paths, to be sure, different destinations, but we aren’t the sort to stand still, and be here or now. We’re over THERE! Off in the distance, wot? Finding stories to share, truths to tell. Blazing a trail, setting an example!”

As he speaks, he stands up, planting his knee upon his hair… With a bit of geriatric grunting, admittedly.
>>
>>6085179
“But the long and winding road still brings us home in the end, innit?” He looks down at you, proudly. “It brought me back to you, and you to me. It will bring YOU home to your little one, too. And luckily, like your father, you’ve got yourself a taste for feisty women, wot? They’ll rule the roost until you come back—and I know you, Ezreal, know you as well as my own flesh and blood, as well I might. You WILL be back. A Van Houtzmann’s never gone for good, I always say!"

(You've never heard him say that, actually...)

"And what stories you're going to have to share, ey? Stories which, and this is true, long outlast any man what tells them."

It isn’t lost on you how, spry as he may be, your father has visibly aged since you last saw him. His beard is thinner, and his hair has receded beneath the (less ostentatious than back in the day, but still rather foppish) cap. His eyes are tired, if still bright and blue, and his skin spotted. It occurs to you that, depending on the sentence you receive, this may be the last time you see Rudolfo Van Houtzmann.

“Ah, shite,” he mutters, seeing something in your expression. “I’ve gone and said something untoward, haven’t I?”

Do you have any last words, or questions, for your father?
>Write-in
In-laws are up next update
>>
>>6085180
>"I love you pops, if I dont get to come back try to be a good and fun grandpa and no drinking around the tot till they can watch themselves"
>>
>>6083266
me
>>
>>6085180
>>6085194
This is a nice goodbye
>>
>>6085180
>Write-in
“Do check on them every once in a while.”
>>
>>6085180
>Can you sing me a ballad before I go?
>>
>>6085194
>+1
>>
>>6085194
>>6085211
>>6085250
>>6085284
>>6085370
“You know,” you remark after some thought, “you’re remarkably cavalier about me just, you know… Going to jail.”

“Well, it’s ONLY elven jail,” your father repeats. “Ive been it worse, ey wot? Now OR prison camps… Well, I’m glad I wasn’t there long.”

“Rudolfo…”

Taking your warning town, your chagrined father confesses: “You’ve always had a clearer head on your shoulders than me, and a firmer bearing. Ever since I met you, you’ve known what’s what. If you think it’s best, and knowing that Henzler girl of yours could break you out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail…”

He shrugs, and smiles.

“If you’re going to risk it, it’s because it’s the right thing to do, and the smart one, yeah?”

You return the smile, and stand up, surprising your father with a hug.

"I love you, Pops.”

“POPS?” your father laughs, patting you awkwardly on the back.

“If I’m… If they don’t allow me to return, I’m trusting you to check in on the girls and the baby for me, okay? No reckless adventures.”

You break the hug and look at your father seriously. He gestures an X across his chest, and rmeoves his cap in a dramatic flourish.

“Cross my heart, and hope to die!”

You wince, both at the phrasing and at the scene he’s making, beckoning for him to put his hat back on and follow you outside.

“Just… be a good and fun grandfather.”

“As if RUDOLFO could be any other kind?”

“And no drinking around the baby till they’re old enough to watch themselves.”

“So… Four years, is it? Five?”

“Rudolfo…”

“I miss ‘Pops’ now,” he jokes, then sighs. “Yes, of course.”

“Good,” you say. “It’s better for your health, anyway, you know.”

He claps your shoulder again and grins.

“See, what did I say? A good head on you, lad!”



Your next visit is a rather less-pleasant one. You only realize when you’ve arrived that you’ve never really met with the Fanuccis ALONE before. You’ve always been Costella’s… Well, attending physician, essentially, or tutor and friend, or (more lately) fiancé and lover. What are you now, to them, having neutered their abortive attempt at interfering in your engagement and your business? Even now, approaching them in the spirit of reconciliation, you feel a few embers of temper rising, and you have to remind yourself that they did what they did out of genuine concern for their daughter… Who is going to be giving birth to your child very soon.
>>
>>6085941
But will they even open the door for the ‘degenerate’ who (as they seemed to see it) corrupted their daughter into a pervert, inducted her into a harem and a cult, and then (from their perspective, you assume) called upon your connections to bury the whole case and get off scott free?

They’re going to be family to your son or daughter in a few month, and Costella wants them at the wedding… It’s the least you can do for her, asking her to give up so much and to be a single mother for what might be YEARS. You HAVE to repair this relationship.

But how? You stand before the door wracking your brain for an answer, when Costella’s brother, Gabriele, startles you by opening it.

“You’ve been standing there for a while,” you answers your unspoken query.

His expression is neutral, tone not exactly unfriendly… Even as he bars the door, half-open, with his arm. He doesn’t invite you in.

How are you going to approach this?
>Reason with him—if you can persuade Gabriele to see sense, maybe he can help you persuade his parents?
>Tell Gabriele the good news—the pregnancy—and use this to pressure him and his parents to speak with you.
>Just push past, and announce that you need to talk—now. If he tries to stop you, well, you still have a fair amount of magic.
>Write-in

I tried to work in the 'ballad bit, too, but couldn't make it flow organically.
>>
>>6085942
>Reason with him—if you can persuade Gabriele to see sense, maybe he can help you persuade his parents?
he seemed to be more open to us the last time, it's worth a shot
>>
>>6085942
>Reason with him—if you can persuade Gabriele to see sense, maybe he can help you persuade his parents?
>>
>>6085942
>Reason with him—if you can persuade Gabriele to see sense, maybe he can help you persuade his parents?
>>
>>6085942
>>Reason with him—if you can persuade Gabriele to see sense, maybe he can help you persuade his parents?

"I'm really glad you're the one to open that door. I'd like to talk with you. Would you follow me to a fine drinking establishment of your chosing, so you can be sitted and with refreshments while I tell you about the important matter that I'm coming for?"

Bring him to neutral negociation ground.
>>
>>6085942
>>Reason with him—if you can persuade Gabriele to see sense, maybe he can help you persuade his parents?
Ask him what the parents have told him, or that transpired after we left - maybe we can clear up a few things.
>>
>>6086029
One vote against this robotic speech please
>>
>>6085978
>>6085982
>>6086029
>>6086045
>>6086324

“I’m glad it’s you who answered the door, actually,” you sigh with relief.

You decide to try reasoning with Gabriele. He’d seemed much more receptive than the rest of his family, when you’d last spoken with them. Granted, that only amounted to looking at you with quiet impassivity rather than shouting at you and levying grave accusations. Still, it was a start! Just as, you must hope against hope, it is a good sign he’s not slammed the door yet.

“Can we talk?” you ask hopefully “Somewhere… neutral? Maybe over a drink?”

(You’re honestly still a bit buzzed from your lunch with your father, but a bit of liquid courage wouldn’t go amiss…)

“…Fine. Sure.”

Gabriele closes the door behind him, with careful quietness. Your eyes fall quickly to the sword at his side, made visible as he steps out and turns around. Those eyes must still be wide when he turned he turns back around, because he looks down and adjusts his sword. He doesn’t say anything, though, and so neither do you.

“I know a place nearby,” he suggests.

“Lead the way,” you say, with a slightly stiff smile.

Lead he does—to a somewhat strange establishment. The restaurant has a somewhat open plan, with a curious wooden contraption built into one wall allowing it to pull up and away, and to tuck part-way into the out-jutting roof. On this warm spring evening, almost summer, they’ve used it to render some of their interior space exterior, and the place has been decorated abundantly with small, magical-looking glowing fixtures… That, to your astonishment, do NOT light up under your mage’s gaze. They’re mundane, purely material in nature!

“Oh, yeah,” Gabriele says, with some amusement. “They call them… Electro-lamps or something. Some dwarven thing.”

In truth, it’s a very dim glow—an abundance of the coiling wires through glass semi-spheres substituting for the individual dimness of each A <Mage’s Torch>, let alone <Daylight> spell was leagues more effective and surely much simpler and less expensive even with the need to pay a mage to refresh it… Probably. You actually weren’t sure what most mages charged for such services. Maybe there WAS a practical reason to go this route? Or maybe it was sheer novelty—most of the people in this restaurant were young, wearing the sturdier and more decorated attire of Hawksong’s (shrinking, these difficult days) middle-class. Many were armed, as Gabriele were armoured; some even wore light-armour, despite being obvious at ease and enjoying peaceful leisure!

“Adventure tourists,” you murmur, with an echo of the derision with which you’ve heard your adventurer friend Zith-Zi speak the term.

“What’s wrong with wanting adventure?” asks Gabriele.

“O-oh,” you stumble. “Nothing, just… Never mind.”
>>
>>6086681
The two of you are seated (at a metal table! with metal chairs! it's so... weirdly industrial) by a young halfling.. Or dwarf? Was that halfling at the peace talks a dwarf? You realize you don’t know how to tell a fat halfling with a beard from a dwarf, or one of their women-folk apart from another. She brings you cups of specially-cooled water, but before she can rattle off the menu, Gabriele holds up two fingers.

“The regular,” he says.

The halfling/dwarf girl does a half-bow with a knowing smile. Gabriele Fanucci watches her go for a few seconds, before looking back to you expectantly. You return the look.

“What did you order us?”

“You’ll see. What did you want to talk about? Why were you at the door?”

Surely he knows? Well… Okay, eh can’t possibly know ALL of it. How much should you tell him, that’s the question?
>Be taciturn… Gauge his feelings about how things played out with the trial and the Concerned Association, and perhaps wheedle out how his family is feeling about you before you extend the olive branch
>Just tell him it’s about the wedding, and patching things up between Costella and the rest of her family so they can be there
>Tell him everything—the pregnancy, the upcoming trial, the possible sentencing and your quite-probable absence for the near future—and hope that he understands and can help you make his parents understand
>No, seriously, it’s bothering you—what did he order you? What is up with this restaurant?
>Hey, what's going on with him and that serving girl? Maybe you two can bond a little, build a rapport...
>Write-in

Do you drink any alcohol?
>Yes, since you DID suggest a drinking establishment and all, and you don't want to seem overly formal
>No, you need your wits about you right now
>>
>>6086683
>Hey, what's going on with him and that serving girl? Maybe you two can bond a little, build a rapport...

>Yes, since you DID suggest a drinking establishment and all, and you don't want to seem overly formal
>>
>>6086683
>Just tell him it’s about the wedding, and patching things up between Costella and the rest of her family so they can be there
No need to pussyfoot

>Yes, since you DID suggest a drinking establishment and all, and you don't want to seem overly formal
>>
>>6086727
+1
>>
>>6086683
>Just tell him it’s about the wedding, and patching things up between Costella and the rest of her family so they can be there

>Yes, since you DID suggest a drinking establishment and all, and you don't want to seem overly formal
>>
>>6086683
>>Just tell him it’s about the wedding, and patching things up between Costella and the rest of her family so they can be there
>No, you need your wits about you right now
>>
Rolled 10, 4, 17, 9, 17, 5, 8 = 70 (7d20)

>>6086718
>>6086727
>>6086732
>>6086741
>>6086850
“Well, it’s about the wedding, obviously.” No need to pussyfoot about it, you suppose. “We’re planning to have it within the month. No more postponement or putting it off.”

“No more waiting to patch things up first, you mean?” asks Gabriele.

“That’s sort of what I’m doing,” you point out, a bit annoyed “Well, trying to do.”

“Turning human must have really changed your perspective on thing, I suppose. Time and such.”

You touch your ears—your rounded lobes. You suppose you should expect that to come up in each conversation you have with someone, for the first time since your newest physical transformation…

“Did you do that to try to win over Mama and Papa?”

“What? No, I—”

“Is it an illusion?”

“What?! No!”

Your face is flushed by the time the serving girl returns with two rather strange dishes—breaded pockets, like pastries, with a bizarrely uniform pattern and pressed-shut edges, with an array of pallid, steamed vegetables heavily sprinkled with… Something aromatic. You look down at the offering, and up at Gabriele Fanucci. He simply looks back at you, clearly enjoying your uncertainty. The whole circumstance of being on the defensive before this young man who’s barely more than half your age has you flustered and irritable.

“Could I order an ale?” you ask.

“Absolutely! The daily special is a double-hopped nitrogenated spruce import-style ale! Is that fine by you?”

You… Aren’t sure what that means, except that it is apparently made, in part, from a tree. You nod after a moment, because facing this establishment—and this boy—without more beer sounds genuinely unbearable.

“I’ll have a coffee porter,” Gabriele adds to the order.

The little demihuman woman bustles away. You look back to him quizzically. It seems late for coffee… But what do you know about ‘coffee porters’, you suppose? Maybe they’re entirely differently. You feel remarkably off-balance.

“Look,” you say, keeping the annoyance out of your voice, “I’m here because… Well, because Costella wants me to be. Not that -I- don’t want to be, or anything, but… You know how much it would mean to Costella, for your other and father, and you, and your sisters.. For the whole family to be there. This is her wedding we’re talking about! She only gets one.”

“Hm,” Gabriele muses. “Though I guess you get two, if all goes well?”

Sociability 4d20; +2d20 Sense Motive. 1d20 Constitution for alcohol tolerance.
>>
>>6087578
You bristle a little and your blush deepens. Your drink arrives, and not a moment too soon. You take a deep swig… And nearly spit it back out. Yous are down at the bitter swill—faintly mint, mouth-tingling swill at that—like it slapped you. It sort of feels as if it did, and with a tree branch. Is that… Sap? You’d say it tastes medicinal, but ‘poisonous’ seems more apt, since there’s no way it’s good for you.

Gabriele, watching with obvious amusement, takes a draught of his own brownish beverage. You push yours away, digging into your food to cleanse your palate. He does likewise. You find the ground, machined meat somewhat more appetizing, though the whole affair is so salty—and strangely sweet—as to taste utterly unnatural.

“You still have the appetite of an elf, huh?” he asks pointedly.

>17

So that’s his game, is it?

“An elf—a full elf, for the Sylvan Realms—would never even touch this stuff.” You’re not sure YOU want to, but there’s something about the greasy mélange that entices you to take another bite. “You’re changing the subject, though. Gabriele, please… I just want to repair this rift, for your sister’s sake. Help me help HER. MAN to MAN, I’m asking you to help with that.”

Gabriele chews his own food thoughtfully, and takes another sip of his drink. You eye yours, the salty, fatty food making you thirsty anew. You force yourself to try it one more time. It’s not GOOD, but it’s better for the desperation. You can stomach it, at least.

“Okay,” Gabriele agrees.

“Okay??” you ask, almost standing up in your excitement.

“IF,” he continues.

“Oh,” you grunt, sitting down and finishing your drink.

“IF,” Gabriele continues, “you answer me two questions.”

“…It depends on the questions,” you say, guardedly.

“You want me to tell my Mama and Papa to trust you, that you can BE trusted, but you don’t trust me?”

You barely KNOW Gabriele, in all honesty. Yet, as you consider his request and finish your meal and beverage, you can’t deny that his request makes a certain amount of sense.

>8

(Though maybe that’s the alcohol talking?)
>>
>>6087584
“Okay,” you blurt out. “Fine, ask away. I’m an open book.”

Whatever it takes to resolve this matter—to give Costella her family back, to support her in your absence—you’ll do it!

“Tell me why you’re not an elf anymore,” Gabriele all-but-orders, holding up one finger.

“Tell me how you got the Queen of Hawksong to back you up, when you’re breaking the law, fucking around with the Archmage’s daughter while trying to marry my sister,” he adds, holding up a second.

You feel your face pale. Alien to you until recently, you recognize a cold sweat forming on your face. You stare down at your drink, but it’s gone. You consider ordering another, but think better of it.

>Tell him the truth [???]
>Tell him a lie or half-truth [DC 18 Sociability, due to inebriation]
>You’re not telling him shit! Fuck this! Fuck him! Fuck the Fanuccis!
>That's it, you're taking this outside. [attempt to invoke an honour duel]
Diplomatic, polite refusals and deflections are not an option—you’re too drunk.
Write-ins are allowed only if they make sense for a sort-of-arrogant, quite-drunk mad scientist hippy; I reserve the write to veto or modify
>>
>>6087585
Tell him Costella’s pussy is tight and tastes like honey and that he’s just jealous we get to share it with our lizard wife.
>>
>>6087588
[I will allow a sort of variation of this as a variation of
>You’re not telling him shit! Fuck this! Fuck him! Fuck the Fanuccis!
which will invoke an attempt to duel you to the actual death.]
>>
>>6087585
does not mentioning the prophecy counts as half truth for the 1st one ? the 2nd one is pretty safe safe for us to answer since we got close to the queen due to the plague cure after all.
>>
>>6087601
>does not mentioning the prophecy counts as half truth for the 1st one ?
[Yeah, because if Tips just said something like "the elves made me turn human as a punishment," it would lead to follow-up questions like "punishment for what?", "why did you help save the prince of a monster kingdom?", "if you'd started diplomatic talks, why did you suddenly flee the elves?", "why did they kidnap Izirina?", and more, which you could either answer honestly, lie about, or refuse to answer, resulting in a partial explanation and the keeping of secrets.]
>>
>>6087585
> “You’re already entrenched in your own lies. Fuck off.”
>Leave
Don’t turn your back until he’s a good couple steps away.

>>6086732
>>
>>6087608
I see. Man, I think telling the truth would help our bond with him but at the same time he could take it as the claim that the queen is a degen is true and that she only helped us for dark stuff.. you know what ? I'll trust our (wife's) bro
>>6087585
>Tell him the truth [???]
>>
>>6087585
>Tell him the truth [???]

>>6085284
Me
>>
>>6087585
>Tell him the truth [???]
Damn, drunk off one beer? We're not even reptilian anymore.

I assume the big reveals here are:
question 1 - the prophecy
question 2 - theral and his own harem which includes Eka

So I'm cool with telling him all about 1 since it's averted anyway, but 2 is kinda tricky. We can say the plague cure got us pretty close to the queen, but that's a half truth against a tough DC 18. Can we try saying we've done other services for the royal family that we can't reveal due to crown secrets and the security of Hawksong?
>>
>>6087640
>one beer
[Tips came here from visiting with Rudolfo, also at a bar. I did mention it a couple times in the narrative and when holding the vote.]
>>
>>6087640
I can back

So I'm cool with telling him all about 1 since it's averted anyway, but 2 is kinda tricky. We can say the plague cure got us pretty close to the queen, but that's a half truth against a tough DC 18. Can we try saying we've done other services for the royal family that we can't reveal due to crown secrets and the security of Hawksong?

Because at one point, there is a difference between personal secrets and crown secrets.
>>
>>6087640
>>6087894
>sovereign-subject confidentiality
[Entirely reasonable to bring up! However, there will be a delay in the update. I'm (likely) hanging with a friend tonight.]
>>
Rolled 11, 9, 18, 11 = 49 (4d20)

>>6087894
>>6087640
>>6087634
>>6087629
>>6087622
“You know, the Queen didn’t exactly ‘back me up’,” you grumble. “It was a neutral mediation.”

“She ignored that you were guilty of at least some of what you were accused of,” Gabriele points out. “How many people break the law like that and have the Queen of Hawksong take a ‘neutral’ role helping smooth things over to stop their getting sued or jailed?”

Technically, she kept you legally free-and-clear just long enough to go to a different jail… Though you can’t exactly say THAT, can you? And your current situation isn’t in any way Queen Ekaterine’s fault, either. You wouldn’t want to put that on her.

“The Queen is a good woman,” you say simply. “She did hat she thought was right. So have I, you know. That’s… That’s how it came to this.”

“Came to what?” Gabriele presses, leaning forward a little. “Enough of this ‘there’s more to this story’ stuff. You want me to give you my blessing, to be there… For me to tell my FAMILY to be there. To BE family. So stop being mysterious and EXPLAIN! Or is Carlos right?”

“De Gori has never been right in his entire life,” you scoff. “Don’t tell me you’re entrenched in his lies?”

“ARE they lies? How do I know what’s true if you don’t tell me?”

You sighs, and stare down at your empty glass, perversely wishing it was full again in spite of the flavour. You nod, without looking up at first. After summoning your courage you meet Gabriele’s gaze again, and concede.

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay?”

“Sort of,” you hastily amend. “There are things, things I’m privileged to know because of.. Special circumstances, and mission I’ve done for the Queen, and the Prince Consort, that I can’t talk about. You understand that, right? You know… Crown secrets?”

Gabriele Fanucci frowns, but nods—a tentative acquiescence.

“Alright,” you sigh. “Let’s start with the first question…”

And so, in hushed tones, leaked close and pausing whenever a server or a fellow diner seems too close or appears to be paying any degree of attention, you tell him. You explain to Gabriele your trip to the Sylvan Realms on behalf of the Queen and Prince Long Wang, while carefully NOT divulging him the exact nature of your mission.
>>
>>6088496
“It was diplomatic,” you say simply. “A dispute between the Prince Consort and the elves.”

“Of course it was that fucking guy,” Carlos grouses, evidently sharing his parents’ distrust for Prince Long Wang. “I bet it was all his fault, whatever it was.”

“Well,” you say, and stop short, biting your tongue. “It was complicated. Anyway, after the work I did curing the dragon-pox, including Costella’s case, and being half-elven myself, I guess I was a good fit for the delegation. But this sage—a sort of prophet, we call them ‘minasien’—and he told my fortune, and Izirina Henzler’s, to gauge our intentions and how our proposal would play out. And… It wasn’t good.”

“Not good, like, how?” Gabriele asks, curiosity piqued. “How bad was this proposal?”

“End-of-the-world bad, almost,” you say simply, since to explain in detail would—again—divulge crown secrets and threaten to undo the secrecy and stability your peace talks bought. “And it wasn’t the proposal, actually. The long and short of it is that… If Izirina had a child who was part-elven, it would have, apparently, been dangerous for the future of… Of everyone.”

“And yet you’re still with her,” Gabriele says. “You are, aren’t you? You… And my sister. You’re ‘together’ still, the three of you?”

“Yes,” you admit quietly. “But it’s not… It’s not like your father fears it is. It’s really not! And, well.. We’re not exactly having a child together. An, as you can se… The child won’t be an elf.”

“So that’s why you did it, then,” Gabriele concludes. “To avoid some prophecy?”

“Yes,” you say. “And I guess you could say that… It’s a sort of punishment, too. For sharing secrets of my people, my mother’s people, with humans… And for running away like we did, after we got that fortune told. And… or some conflicts we had, with the elves afterwards. Conflicts that led to violence.”

Unfortunate, avoidable violence…. Ugh. If only they had been more willing to communicate! Or, well, if you had been. But what’s done is done. You can only move forward.

“So the Queen of Hawksong did you this solid, this favour, because you solved this problem for her?” Gabriele attempts to parse together the account into a cohesive narrative. “And that’s why she’s giving you a pass on you, and my sister, and Henzler, and all of that?”

“Essentially,” you say. “Sort of.”

“But you won’t tell me what this whole thing was about? The mission? Or what exactly this prophecy said?”
>>
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>>6088496
We are the exception.
>>
>>6088497
>>6088503
“It’s not a problem anymore,” you tell Gabriele, truthfully. “The prophecy’s averted, if it ever was ACTUALLY true to begin with. It’s not an exact art, divination like that.”

“And things are settled now, with the elves and fairies?” he asks. “You’re all squared? There’s no more elven assassins or whatever coming for you, and risking Costa’s safety?”

“It’s… It’s being handled,” you murmur, feeling your face warm a little.

“Handled HOW?” Gabriele asks, latching upon your hesitation. “Ezreal, I’m asking you to level with me, if we’re going to be brothers. That’s what you’re asking, right? Well unless this is another crown secret, I’ve got to know my sister’s safe.”

“She is!” you assure him. “Gabriele, she’s safe. I promise you. I’ve made sure of it.”

Your heart feels as if it is being squeezed by a vice as you and Gabriele lock eyes, knowing that there is one last secret you are keeping. A serious secret—the secret of your continued ‘criminal’ status among the elves, pending a trial… A trial you have strongly suspect may not go in your favour, given your actions WERE violations of spiritual and temporal law, even if they were justified.

>18

But Gabriele releases a held breath, and nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat.

“Okay,” Gabriele says. “I’ll talk to Papa. I can’t PROMISE anything, but… I’ll try.”

“Thank you!” you blurt out, feeling genuine relief and gratitude spil out of you.

“But you’re still a weirdo, you know that, Ezreal?” Gabriele adds critically. “You may be a human now, I guess. And you’re not a bad guy, maybe—not all the stuff Papa’s afraid you are, or like the De Goris and those Council guys were saying you were. But all that business up on Old Maple Hill, with that creepy fairy cult of yours?”

“It’s not a cult!”

“It’s WEIRD, is what it is. And you dragged my sister into it, and I can tell there’s some freaky shit you aren’t telling me.”

Gabriele regards you critically, and finishes his beer in silence. You don’t break it, afraid to throw off the precarious balance of his unspoken assessment which, Gods be praised, DOES seem to be going in your favour.

“But you saved my sister’s life,” Gabriele concludes. “I haven’t forgotten that. And the Queen trusts you, and even if I don’t think she’s the best leader we’ve ever had, and that foreign husband of hers… Well, whatever. She’s still the Queen, and if you’re doing stuff to help this city and the people here, even if it’s WEIRD stuff, I can respect that. You know what I mean?”

“I think so,” you say, feeling vaguely insulted by the phrasing and the implications. “So… You’ll all be at the wedding?”
>>
>>6088507
“I told you, I can’t promise everyone will be,” Gabriele says, “but me? Yeah, I’ll be there.”

You both stand, and you clasp his hand.

“Thank you,” you say again.

“Yeah, well… Thank you too.”

You settle your bills and part awkwardly, but amicably, and when Gabriele has turned a corner, you allow yourself a quiet fist-pump of slightly tipsy victory before withdrawing your Izirina-provided envelope from your trouser pocket and activating its enchantment to return, with good news, to Old Maple Hill.

Are there any particulars or special preparations you’d like to make for the wedding? Specific elements you’d like to include?
>Yes [write-in if so]
>No

Also…
Will Izirina be at the wedding? If so, will she play a major role, and what role?
>Yes [write-in]
>No, she should probably, sadly, steer clear to avoid drama

And…
Who will be your ‘best man’?
>Logan Pearce
>Ruldolfo Van Houtzmann
>The Spirit of the Old Maple
>Cousin Adolf
>Prince Consort Long Wang
>Write-in
>>
>>6088509
Oh that was quick lmao
I thought we’d have a talk with the parents but I guess they’d probably listen to gabriel more

>Yes
Keep the wedding small - close friends and family only.
Spriggan as priest.
Food as last time - Old Maple Hill stuff. We don’t need to spend that much on it - save it for the kids.

>Yes
In attendance. That’s it.

>Logan Pearce
The rest aside from dad is a little too distant. And dad we already had a talk with. I think him and cousin adolf in attendance is good enough.

Am >>6087622
>>
>>6088522
>+1
>>
>>6088509

>Yes
Keep the wedding small - close friends and family only.
Spriggan as priest.
Food as last time - Old Maple Hill stuff. We don’t need to spend that much on it - save it for the kids.

>Yes
As one of the to-be-wed, obviously.

>Logan Pearce
Although I'm adamant we invite Long Wang.
>>
>>6088509
>>6088522
+1 except for the small wedding part
Make it as big as possible
More crowd for Izzy to get lost in and never see the Fanucci parents
>>
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You wish you could attend the meeting between Gabriele Fanucci and his parents personally, but you strongly suspect your presence would only be an unwelcome distraction from his uphill battle with their preconceptions. Anyway, you have enough on your plate; while technically your wedding ahs been in the works for quite a while, you’ve undeniably placed it at the back o the queue of your responsibility until now.

The preparations for a small, intimate wedding unfold with remarkable rapidity. Desiring to save some money for your child—a child! before the end of the year!—you try to source as much of the décor and the ingredients locally. Luckily, the human and halfling inhabitants of Old Maple Hill are quick to rally to your growing family, and the local fey almost seem more excited than you. Mortal and functional immortal alike bustle about, assisting in setting up decorations and preparing the quaintly tasteful open-air ‘chapel’, made in the style of your mother’s clan. The wooden altar, adorned with blooming flowers indigenous to the Hill, resonates with the delicate magic of the True Fey who tend to them.

Izirina stands off to the side, her usual confident demeanor giving way to a subdued ambivalence. She’s present, but an air of detachment lingers about her. She fiddles with her subdued dress—not a bride’s dress, not even a bridesmaid’s, to avoid controversy and conflict—and avoids your gaze. You sense her unease and step closer, offering a reassuring, gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

“Izzy, thank you for being here,” you whisper.

She offers a faint smile, her grip tightening for a moment. “I wouldn’t miss it, Tips. Even if… Well, you know. I mean, it’s… She’s sort of my wife, too, isn’t she?”

You raise an eyebrow at this and, to your amusement, Izzy blushes and fidgets. Still, you understand her insecurity. You wish you could do more about it—could offer her some compensating ceremony of her own. Maybe one day, under different circumstances and with your penalties paid, you can.

“I means a lot to us both, you know.” You cup her face, making her meet your eyes, and quivers slightly. “Neither of us would be here without you in our lives. And all of this? It’s for all of us. The child is all of ours. We love you, Izzy.”

“…Costella said pretty much the same thing,” she admits, with a smile she can’t quite hide. “You know, she’s… She’s a really good person. You’re… We’re BOTH lucky to have her. And even if it took some ‘changes’, I’m glad that I can… That we can both be there for her.”

You nod in absolute agreement. The two of you embrace for a moment, and then Izzy, recollected, says:

“Speaking of which, Costella needs me, and it’s too early for you to be seeing her. Apparently. I guess that’s a tradition?”
>>
>>6089000
“It was news to me, too,” you say with a half-smile, fiddling with your own stiff attire, made specially by Nicolette Testa for the wedding (and at 25% off, which she assures you to be a most excellent bargain for craftswomanship of this quality). “I was born elven, remember? This is all foreign to me.”

“Anyway, she can’t move very fast in that… DRESS of hers. So I guess it’s my job to organize the Hill.”

You go your separate ways for the moment. You have your own ceremonial duties to attend to, though much like Costella you have a surrogate to delegate the bulk of them to: your ‘best man’. And with a tittle like THAT, well, there was only ever one possible candidate for the role.

Logan Pearce arrives dressed in a tailor-made suit—a sight that prompts a whistle of admiration. As a fellow mage, you’ve mostly seen him in robes or, on visits to his family farm, in practical, sturdy attire suitable to his ancestral professional. This is a striking departure from either form of dress: he is clad in a rich shade of emerald, his jacket tied about the waist with a blue and green paisley strip of cloth to match the ascot tucked into his collar. Your old friend stands upright, his posture almost comically stiff, as he meticulously combs his moustache and beard even now.

“Looking sharp, Pearce,” you comment.

“First and last time I’ll ever get this close to playing groom. I might as well do it right,” he replies wryly, his usual smirk softening the formal image he projects.

You follow his gaze to wear the tall, dark, handsome figure of Oncyth Nortumalan is partaking in the few meaty meal-options on display. Clad all in black robes, tied tight and open to expose a half-bare chest with a low-cut white shirt beneath, the Sylvan werewolf is attractive in a way that even a thoroughly ‘conventional’ male like yourself can recognize as impressive. This is in spite of plucking appetizers pre-emptively from the table and eating them with his bare hands in a rather inelegant display of culinary barbarism—the most ravenously uncouth you’ve seen in some time… If only because Zith-Zi and Carazzi haven’t replied to your hastily-sent summons.

(Yet. Yet? You hope they activate the envelope and make it here in time… it’s been a while since you’ve seen them.)
>>
>>6089001
Pearce sighs, his own quip—and the sight of the elfman he evidently adores, but whom he must keep secret—demonstrably deteriorating his demeanour. He catches you looking before you can say anything, and straightens up.

“Well, whatever,” he says. “I’m just glad to be here. Seriously, Tips… Thank you. It’s, you know… An honour. Or whatever.”

Despite his awkwardness, you sense the genuine feeling in your best friend’s words. You return his smile, and…
>Thank him in turn, and leave him to it—you don’t really know what to say about his own situation
>Commiserate, in relation to Izirina and yourself
>Seek his advice about what comes next, hen the wedding is done and you must depart
>Offer him some words of comfort [like what?]
>Write-in
>>
>>6089002
>>Offer him some words of comfort [like what?]
It might be up to us to create a world where things are better. I have clear insight about that.
>>
>>6089002
>Commiserate, in relation to Izirina and yourself
If all goes well we're going to marry Izzy in a foreign kingdom, perhaps he could do the same?
>>
>>6089057
Also, that's why I wanted Theral.
Wedding a trois possible shenanigans.
>>
>>6089002
>Thank him in turn, and leave him to it—you don’t really know what to say about his own situation
>>
>>6089057
+1
We even got offered by those desert elves to marry there. Marriage outside hawksong is very much a possibility.
>>
>>6089057
>>6089176
>>6089024
>>6089122
“You know,” you commiserate, “I sort of get it. I mean, it’s not like my relationship is without its complications, too.”

Pearce gives you a sidelong look, and then sinks down slightly with a huff.

“it’s not the same and you know it,” he says. “You’ve got a marriage, officially, now. Or will do. And you’ve got all THIS—”

He spreads his arm around to the assembled people, here to help you and to witness your wedding. There are a few dozen, between those whom you cured and those whom you saved some slavery, and simply those who count you as friend or family.

“All these people… Well, pretty much all of them know exactly what you and Izirina and Costella are all about,” Pearce points out. “They—WE—are all here for you anyway.”

You arch an eyebrow at Pearce, unable to hdie your small smirk.

“What?” he groans.

“Logan Pearce,” you give him a nudge. “You think nobody sees you making eyes at Oncyth?”

He flushes.

“we all know what ‘you’re al about’, too,” you point out. “And we love and support YOU, too, you know?”

His blush deepens and he goes back to fiddling with his facial fair, now rather tugging at his mustachio.

“it’s just the law that’s in the way,” he acknowledges. “The law and what, you know, other people think.”

“Well, it depends which law, and which people,” you note. “I was actually thinking about inviting Prince Long Wang, you know?”

Pearce gives you a sharp look.

“I didn’t,” you laugh. “That… Man… Is a source of unending drama.”

“takes one to know one,” says Pearce.

“Shove it.” You smile. “Anyway, I was just thinking… What are marriage laws in Bloodrise? And in a kingdom with a polygamous king who’s married to… All sorts of women, or monster-women, or whatever…”

“Tips,” Pearce says levelly, “I’d rather die ‘single’ than be wed by a dragon king in the secret evil monster kingdom. My family would never let me hear the end of it, if they ever talked to me again.”

“Well I also have an ‘in’ with some elves in the Goblin Wastes,” you say, pouting a little bit at your idea being shot down. “Remember the Ashurati?”

Pearce looks a bit more thoughtful at that, quietly contemplating it.
>>
>>6089547
“Think they’d really be okay with, you know... Oncyth? He’s still a werewolf.”

You suppress a grin, happy to hear the hope return to your friend’s voice.

“I’m pretty good at convincing elves to keep secrets, it turns out. When I get back from the Sylvan Realms, how about we go see about getting both our ‘illegal’ marriages recognized by some sand elves.”

“And all I have to do is go back to where I took a poison arrow to the gut and nearly died,” Pearce acknowledges ruefully.

“There’s just no pleasing some people!”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. Pearce laughs at that, and before long you’ve joined him. It’s something to look forward to—something to strive towards. A better world, for all the people who exist on the periphery of the more familiar one at the moment: half-elves, strange mountain-monsters, the community at Old Maple Hill who aren’t entirely human (or halfling) anymore, creatures like Carazzi and Ayla, and people like Costella or Pearce and Oncyth as well. It reminds you of Izzy’s old escapist fantasies, but it’s different. You’re not running away from what’s real, but considering how you can make what’s real the same as what’s GOOD, for everyone.

Maybe it’s up to you—all of you—to create such a place?

You shake your head. One thing—one wedding, for that matter—at a time! And your moment of truth with Costella is fast approaching. You mentally rehearse your vows a few times, mouthing some of the words to really stick them in place. You don’t NEED to, really—mages of your age and skill level can memorize rather strange syllables swiftly and effortlessly, such that a small string of more conventional words is child’s play. But, well… You’re nervous. Pearce ahs to stop you from pacing with a heavy hand on your shoulder and a sympathetic look.

“Mate,” he says, “you’re human now. You keep fidgeting about, you’re going to sweat through your suit.”

You accept his analysis—and his comforting presence—and force yourself to calm down. You breathe in, and out. In, out. Thank the Gods for Izirina’s obsession with orientalism in your youth, for teaching you this technique.

“Still no Fanuccis, though,” you note sourly.

(Did Gabriele fail to convince his parents? Then where is he? Didn’t he promise he, at least, would be here?!)

“There’s still time,” Pearce says calmly.

“Not if Mister Fanucci’s going to ‘give Costella away’ like she wants,” you point out.
>>
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>>6089550
Just then, there is a flash of semi-visible arcane aura out of the corner of your eye, pulling your from your anxiety and back to the here and now… Where two short, somewhat-stacked humanoids have appeared at the outskirts of the space organized and adorned for the ceremony. On is pink, and clad in some rather fearsome-looking (is slightly asymmetrical) armour. The other is a splotchy green, and wrapped in an oversized, somewhat faded and yellow-edged dress, like something handed down through generations and dredged up from an attic—though whose attic would that even be?? You instantly recognize your ‘nilbog’ and ‘demogoblin’ friends, Zith-Zi and Carazzi, the former rubbing the back of the latter while she lurches forward and retches.

“Magic sickness,” Zith-Zi explains as you approach. “Teleportin’ still does a number on her, when her resistance don’t just make the whole damn thing fizzle out ‘n shit.”

Carazzi holds up a hand and waves, without looking up.


“Not you, though?” Pearce asks.

“Not since Tips made me all pretty ‘n pink,” Zith-Zi boasts. “Shit, you weren’t there last time we went tourin’ my old stompin’ grounds, but I can even CAST shit now. Like,a ctual spells! Well, sorta’.”

Carazzi seems to settle her stomach finally, and ZIth-Zi—and Hershy, her feathered chimera-drake, perched upon her shoulder—seem to both take you in for the first time, properly, including your changed race. Hershy croaks in what you take for confusion or dismay, though that might be you projecting somewhat.

“Did you somethin’ new with your hair?” ZIth-Zi jokes.

You roll your eyes and start to formulate a witty retort about styling it different around your ears, but before you can the wind is knocked out of you by Carazzi throwing herself at your midsection with full force, and all-but-grappling your stomach in hug. She gazes up at you adoringly, and says:

“I think you look totally great!” she grins a too-wide grin “Delicious, even…”

‘Down, girl,” Zith-Zi growls.

Carazzi sighs, and nods, but doesn’t let go of you. Rather, she leans her horned forehead against you, burying her face in your midsection, and whines:

“I feel queasy… And that took a lot of ‘aura’ or whatever outta’ me… Can I have some headpats to restore my energy?”

“So that’s, what, a third wedding to organize for you now?” Pearce jokes.

You glower at him, while you indulge your emotionally-energized demoniac wedding-guest in, yes, some massaging of her scalp. Your focused, affectionate attention does seem to help her settle and restore herself, her somewhat washed-out skin restored to a vibrant, utterly-unnatural toady green.
>>
>>6089552
“So,” Zith-Zi asks, “Where’s the lady we’re all here to actually see, huh? Bet Costella’s a total smokeshow, if they even got YOUR twinky ass outta’ your usual dresses and inta’ somethin’ for boys, huh?”

Pearce snorts, and you suffer to veiled-compliment with grace, explaining: “I’m not supposed to see her before the ceremony, when her father walks her up to me and hands her off.”

“What, like she’s his property?” Zith-Zi asks with raised eyebrows. “Humies are fuckin’ weird. No offence, now that you are one, I guess.”

“I always was,” you protest. “I’m just… Nevermind.”

“Well, where’s Papa Fanny at, then?” the goblin asks, hand on a cocked hip as she—and Carazzi, belatedly and with exaggerated eagerness—look around.

Your worries return anew. There really isn’t much time… And under these circumstances, worrying enough to YOU, you can only imagine how Costella feels. No wonder she called Izzy over to keep her company… Perhaps you should be there, too, Hawksong martial customs be damned? Or maybe you should go check on what’ taking them so long…

>Check on Costella, to see how she’s holding up and comfort her
>Go check on the road between Old Mapel Hill and Hawksong, for signs the Fanucci family are on their way
>Stay put and catch up with Carazzi and Zith-Zi—it’s been a while, and that should help distract and calm you down
>Write-in
>>
>>6089553
>Stay put and catch up with Carazzi and Zith-Zi—it’s been a while, and that should help distract and calm you down
>>
>>6089553
>>Stay put and catch up with Carazzi and Zith-Zi—it’s been a while, and that should help distract and calm you down
>>
>>6089553
>Stay put and catch up with Carazzi and Zith-Zi—it’s been a while, and that should help distract and calm you down
>>
>>6089553
>Check on Costella, to see how she’s holding up and comfort her
>>
>>6089552
hershy looking more like a hamster there, cute. really like how creative the "open mouth when knee moves" legwear is. the artist also got both stacked well.
>>6089553
>Go check on the road between Old Mapel Hill and Hawksong, for signs the Fanucci family are on their way
>>
>>6089554
>>6089564
>>6089568
>>6089634
>>6089638
You endeavour to still your spirit and calm your thoughts. Either The Fanuccis will be here, or they won’t You have no information you can offer to Costella right now to make her feel better, and going to gather it will achieve nothing if they’re already on the way, except maybe making you ALL late for the ceremony. And if they’re not…

No, no enough. It will be fine. One way or another, it wll be okay.

“Hey, uh, Tips?”

A hairy hand with a set of wicked, curved claws waves before your face, almost making you cry out before you recognize it as Carazzi’s. You look at her, finding her hug has loosened, and she’s looking up at you with concern. Zith-Zi, too is string at you, thought with her own worry (mostly) hidden beneath a mask of bemused curiosity.

“Wedding jitters?”

“Something like that,” you mumble, and clear your throat. Anyway, it’s been a while! How are you two? How have the goblins been?”

You refer, of course, to those small, green folk who you rescued from the Goblin Wastes, where they had been enslaved by their own kin. You’d forsaken the slavers, who met their ignominious and unfortunate end at the hands of a pack of trolls, but even those who had been victims of the slave trade were ill-suited to life in human-settled lands, or to cohabitation with True Fey and their disciples. And so…

“Well, that Dragon King let us set ‘em up in some half-ta’-crap village. Looks human, but abandoned and all grown-over by the woods… But we’re makin’ it work.”

“Anything’s an improvement over the Goblin Wastes, right Tips?” adds Carazzi cheerfully.

“Ha, whatever,” Zith-Zi snipes. “You barely remember it! Imagine growin’ UP in that shithole?”

“Wait… But didn’t we move there as a girl, like, by choice?”

“A-anyway,” ZIth-Zi presses ahead, “stupid fuckin’ decisions that we mighta’ made aside, yeah, it’s an improvement over what they’d have. Ain’t no Hawksong, though.”

“Not an Old Maple Hill, either,” Carazzi says, looking wistfully around the place and waving to a few members of the local community, who wave back with somewhat less enthusiasm.

“Well, we can’t stay here,” Zith-Zi reminds Carazzi perfunctorily. “You ‘specially, remember?”

Carazzi scoots closer to you again, as if you can shield her from her ‘sister’ and her rebukes.
>>
>>6089807
“Still, the invite was… Nice,” Zith-Zi says, craning her head around and standing on her toes for a moment, to Hersey’s annoyance and being so jostled. “I’ve never been ta’ a human wedding before. Or an elf one. This some kinda’ hybrid thing?”

“Well the Spriit of the Old Maple’s going to be officiating, if that counts,” you reply.

Zith-Zi looks at you incredulously, then laughs, and shrugs.

“Ya’ know, you really re somethin’ else. Even as a human, you don’t do anything the normal way, do ya’?”

“No,” Pearce agrees, though his tone is affectionate.

Do you have any specific questions for Zith-Zi or Carazzi?
>Has Zith-Zi met with the Dragon King directly? Has she discussed their shared parentage?
>How is Carazzi settling into the new community there?
>Is Zith-Zi planning to return to Hawksong? How are things with James Efron?
>Maybe your rough-and-tumble adventurer friend has some advice for your upcoming trial… or imprisonment?
>Maybe these two, being split-and-schismed beings themselves, would be interested t hear about Ayla and Veigar?
>Write-in
>>
>>6089810
>How is Carazzi settling into the new community there?
>>
>>6089810
>How is Carazzi settling into the new community there?
>Is Zith-Zi planning to return to Hawksong? How are things with James Efron?
>Maybe these two, being split-and-schismed beings themselves, would be interested t hear about Ayla and Veigar?
>>
>>6089810
>Maybe your rough-and-tumble adventurer friend has some advice for your upcoming trial… or imprisonment?

>Is Zith-Zi planning to return to Hawksong? How are things with James Efron?
>>
>>6089810
>How is Carazzi settling into the new community there?
>Is Zith-Zi planning to return to Hawksong?
I’d rather not discuss the circumstances of her and james
>>
>>6089810
>>Is Zith-Zi planning to return to Hawksong? How are things with James Efron?
>Maybe these two, being split-and-schismed beings themselves, would be interested t hear about Ayla and Veigar?
>>
>>6089810
>How is Carazzi settling into the new community there?
>Maybe your rough-and-tumble adventurer friend has some advice for your upcoming trial… or imprisonment?
>Maybe these two, being split-and-schismed beings themselves, would be interested t hear about Ayla and Veigar?
>>
>>6089810

“So, how are you two adjusting to the place?” you ask the pair of one-conjoined goblinesses. “Do you think you’ll stay there?”

Zith-Zi produces a startled bark of laughter, and asks: “Are you serious?”

“I dunno’, sis, it aint’ SO bad. I even—”

“‘Better than th’ Goblin Wastes’ wasn’t no high praise,” Zith-Zi interrupts. “If I wanted ta’ spend all day hanging around gobs who clawed ‘n bit ‘n grabbed for everything thatw asn’t nailed down, I’d go back ta’ the wastes! Doesn’t have NONE a’ the culture of even that dump where Mom lives.”

“Why’d we even leave again?” Carazzi muses, scrunching up her face as she tries to summon the hazy memory-of-a-memory, from when she and Zit-Zi were one.

“It sucked too,” Zith-Zi points out. “Just LESS.”

“I guess few place son Earth measure up to Hawksong,” you say, with a hint of immigrant’s patriotism. “And anyway, you’ve got someone else to think about here, right?”

Zith-Zi’s face goes a little stiff, and she grimaces.

“I guess it’ a good think Efron couldn’t make the wedding, then…?”

“I don’t’ wanna’ talk about it,” grumbles Zith-Zi, smacking a passing ‘server’ (unpaid volunteer) on the thigh, and gesturing for them to hand her a drink.

You exchange a worried look with Pearce, and say: “Alright, yeah, I understa—”

“It’s not like I don’t send letters!”

(Oh, Zi’s going to keep going anyway, you guess…)

“I just, you know, I got a LOT on my plate! A lot of shit! It’s a plate of SHIT!”

“…I’m sorry to hear it?” You look to Carazzi, who winces and shrugs, seemingly almost as surprised as you.

“But it’s important shit!” Zith-Zi continues, downing her drink in one pull with a (admittedly delicate, compared to the ‘good old days’) burp. “An’ I can’t jus’ quit half-way, you know? And now, it’s like, what’s the rush, right? Ta’ settle down or whatever? When I was middle-aged an’ had another twenty-ta’-twenty-fix years left in me, sure. But now? Pumped fulla’ fairy-dust or whatever-the-fuck? We got time!”

“I thought you wanted to retire from adventuring?” you ask, confused. “Isn’t that why we… Why you stopped being a goblin? Became a ‘nilbog’?”

“I DO want that!” she protests, almost a whine, and then looks down. “I mean, I WANNA’ want that. But… I dunno’, I don’t wanna’ go back to scavenging and stealin’, but now that I’ve got magic, an’ some of my tight young springiness back.”

Carazzi stifles a snort, and you pointed avert your gaze as Zith-Zi hefts her bosom for emphasis.

“I guess I wanna’ see what kinda’ coin I can make, playin’ by the rules, without jus’… Settling in an’ pumping out kids? An’ Jimmy’s already out there doin’ just THAT! It’s why he couldn’t make it back in time for the wedding, right? So he should get that! Shit, adventurin' is how we MET!"
>>
>>6090931
Judging by the heaving breaths she’s taking, Zith-Zi has run out of steam. You aren’t really sure how to council her. You’re quite grateful when a familiar voice cries out:

“Ziiiii!”

A moment later, Nicolette Testa—a ‘nilbog’ herself, albeit noticeably taller and a fair bit more human in her dimensions—careens into Zith-Zi, lifting the squawking pink quasi-goblinoid into a squeezing hug. Francis Blanchette—another of your old school-chums, and an expert on all things cursed and dubiously-enchanted—haisl you from the same direction you just came, and as you turn and regard his velveted brocade tunic and matching cape and hatband, you KNOW he must have met up with the plucky fashion-minded mage-girl beforehand.

“Blanchette!” Pearce greets him with a clasp of hands and an arch, teasing grin. “Are you Testa’s DATE?”

“And why not?” Blanchette demands, adjusting his glasses and glaring up at the larger mage. “You had your shot. Don’t go regretting missed opportunities now. It’s too late!”

Pearce keeps his face carefully neutral, and just nods. You stifle a laugh of your own, knowing what you do of how little interest Pearce has in reclaiming Testa’s affections.

“He’s my date FOR THE WEDDING,” Testa corrects Blanchette, sticking out her tongue at him. “Don’t get all handsy now, magus!”

Blanchette shrugs, and attempts what you THINK might be intended as a roguish grin.

“You know me, Nicolette… I play the LOOONG odds.”

Nicollette sighs melodramatically, but from the way she smiles and flutters her eyelashes, you can tell the consummate romantic is enjoying the banter and the chase. They both offer you their congratulations, of course, and then Testa rushes Zith-Zi off to check on her ‘creation’ (Costella’s dress) in the tent reserved for the women attending to your bride. This just leaves you, ‘the boys’, and… Carazzi.

“So, you were saying? About the settlement up at Bloodrise?” you prompt the succubus-souled green gobliness.

“W-well,” Carazzi stammers, reclaiming and untangling the abandoned thread of the earlier conversation, “like, it ain’t as bad as Zi’s been saying. She’s just all conflicted ‘n shit, an’ it’s been makin’ her grumpy because she cant’ decide which way ta’ go.”

“What about you, though?” you ask. “What do YOU want?”

“I… I wanna’ make friends,” she admits sheepishly. “An’ goblins are… Like, my people, right? Kinda’? But I don’t know if they see ME that way.”

“What else would they see you as?” Pearce asks.

“Uh, a demonic monster?” Blanchette asks, unconcernedly, his tone indicating this is obvious.
>>
>>6090933
You and Pearce both glower at him. He realizes his misstep too late, and grunts a quick apology before fetching a drink of his own. You look worriedly back at Carazzi, who winces a little, but shrugs with a forced grin.

“I think some of ‘em are a little wary, yeah… But gobs are, like, hard ta’ read and shit, you know? ‘Cause you can’t sense their emotions as easy as humies or elves.”

She leans against you again, and sighs happily.

“Yeah, like that lovey feelin’ you’re feelin’ now. I can just, like, feel it TOO, ya’ know? ”

You pat her head again, gently extricating yourself before she gets TOO cozy, especially out in public and with Costella’ s family (hopefully!) arriving any moment. Epxlaining the sight of a busty little green ‘monster’ clinging to you and nuzzling your leg is a challenge you’re ill-prepared for at this late hour.

However, if Carazzi is feeling less than comfortable among her goblin cousins… Well, perhaps you know somewhere else she could go? Ayla and Veigar, wherever they are, have a lot in common with her: Veigar is a goblinoid clone created by your magic, and Ayla is likewise an embodied aspect of the same succubus’ demonic taint. But then, you don’t know how good an idea is it, telling the incredibly-impressionable and empathic demogoblin where she can meet with a disciple of the Dark Gods… Even one whom you love on some level, and who (presumably) cohabitates with your own clone.

Do you tell Carazzi about Ayla and Veigar?
>Yes
>No

[it was a close vote last time, 50/50, so I’m playing it back and encouraging some discussion. Also…]

Do you have anything else to discuss or do before the ceremony?
>Yes [write-in]
>No [skips to the ceremony, and we will resolve the Fanucci’s presence or absence.]
>>
>>6090934
>Yes
>>Ask her to promise us if that she gets involved with the Dark Gods or some kind of strange cult or prophetic shenanigans she'll come talk to us about it first.

>Yes
>>Joke that we could make Efron the pregnant one using our Chimericism if Zith-Zi wants
>>Has Zith-Zi met with the Dragon King directly? Has she discussed their shared parentage?
>>
>>6090934
>Yes
She can spy on them for us

>Yes
>Has Zith-Zi met with the Dragon King directly? Has she discussed their shared parentage?
>>
>>6090934
>No

>Yes. Has Zith-Zi met with the Dragon King directly? Has she discussed their shared parentage?
>>
>>6090934
Veigar+ayla matter
>yes

Write-in
Support
>Joke that we could make Efron the pregnant one using our Chimericism if Zith-Zi wants
>Has Zith-Zi met with the Dragon King directly? Has she discussed their shared parentage?
>>
>>6090971
+1
>>
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>>6091132
>>6091103
>>6090971
>>6090956
>>6091553

“Hey,” you address Carazzi, and give her a nudge. “You know, if you don’t feel quite at home there in, ah…”

“New Goblintown. Or Green Hills. We haven’t settled on a name yet.”

“Right,” you say. “Anyway, fi you don’t want to stay there, I know somewhere else you could stay?”

Your heart breaks JUST a little as the demogoblin’s bright yellow eyes light up, and her pupils dilate with exaggerated excitement, pupils almost like diamonds, and she asks: “Old Maple Hill?!”

“Uh, not exactly.” You wine as she deflates and reach out to grasp both her shoulders. “But it’s still somewhere with people that I think you’d have a lot in common with, because I do, too!”

Carazzi looks up at you curiously as you guide her away from Pearce and Blanchette. The latter is not ‘in the loop’ on this matter, but faithful Pearce tips his hat to you, and quickly seizes befuddled and suspicious Blanchette’s attention with a nudge and an (apparently hilarious) anecdote you can’t quite hear. You refocus upon Carazzi, and the clandestine conversation to be hate with her.

“You know how I created you… or your body, and separate identity, at least? And how I shaped fairy powers into a ‘soul’ to replace your own essence, inside of her?”

Carazzi nods, clearly NOT really understanding as you elaborate and grow more technical in your explanations, but fixated on the sound of your voice and familiar enough with the practicalities of what occurred to follow along. You explain how you employed extrapolations of those same principles to create a body to house the ‘other Izirina’ that is Ayla, and to then craft a ‘soulless’ goblin-green doppelganger of yourself, as a sort of ‘groom’ for her as you could not be.

“That’s SOOO romantic!” Carazzi swoons.

You’re not so sure you feel quite that way about it, but you DO hope they’re happy. How could you not? You go on to explain to Carazzi how you THINK she could be happy with them, too. Just so long as she keeps her wits about her, and reports back to you before adopting any strange religions.

“Y-you, mean, like… I oughtta’ go an’ stay with them?” she laughs nervously. “H-hey, it’s like the other you needs a second girl, too, huh? O-or, well… Maybe not quite a ‘girl-girl’, what with the, you know…”

“I didn’t mind like that!” you hastily interrupt.

“…Schlong an’ stuff,” Carazzi finishes the thought, mumbling and looking self-conscious.
>>
>>6091589


“I just thought—think—they might be a good ‘second place’ for you.” You sigh, and ruffle her hair again, to Carazzi’s evident and audible glee. “You know, I had to travel around the world a few times, myself, AND to the moon, before I really found a place that felt like home to ME>”

“The Hill?” Carazzi asks.

You smile, and answer: “Not quite. But that was an important step, too. Maybe New Goblintown or, uh, wherever Ayla and Veigar are… Maybe that could be the same for you?”

Carazzi works her jaw a little—a strange gesture which suddenly reminds you of The Dragon King of Bloodrise—her sibling, or uncle, or cousin of SOME sort, depending how you understood family lineage in relation to cloning and Hellish bastardizations of a mortal bloodline.

“Hey!” cries Zith-Zi, strutting over towards the two of you. “There you are! Izirina’s looking for you! How do ya’ think it makes ME look when people say you’re with Carazzi, an’ she asks ME, an’ I don’t know where my own damn SHADOW is!”

“Sorry!” blurts out Carazzi, with a nervous laugh.

“Since when do You care about appearances?” you snark back.

“Well, you know…” Zith-Zi trails off, thrown by your observation and seemingly embarrassed into submission.

“I just thought of something,” you say, while she’s disarmed.

“Did you speak directly with the Dragon King? Directly?”

“Huh?” she asks. “No, just some creepy dwarves and ‘bolds. I guess he was busy doin’, like, king shit or whatever.”

“Yeah!” Carzzzi adds. “Stealin’ princesses and keepin’ ‘em in towers, and hoardin’ treasure, an’ that sorta’ stuff, right!”

“That’s dragon-shit, Cazzi,” Zith-Zi corrects her.

“But he’s a DRAGON king,” Carazzi counters.

“Anyway, no, I didn’t see him DIRECTLY or nothin,” Zith-Zi concludes. “Why?”

“I just wondered why you and Carazzi and the other goblins were being left to fend for yourself, out on the outskirts, when you’re the sister of the king,” you ask, lowering your voice slightly at the last, just in case.

Zith-Zi hesitates, then shrugs, and says: “It never came up.”

You raise your eyebrows in silent question: why not?
>>
>>6091590
“Look, I might now exactly move in high society or none a’ that fancy-dancy shit, but I KNOW how it geos up there,” Zith-Zi says in hushed tone. “Knives out, an’ stabbed inta’ everybody’s backs whenever they turn ‘em too quick. An’ tellin’ a guy whose citizens seem ta’ practically WORSHIP him ‘hey, I’m your goblin half-sister from the time your secret half-human mom grew a’ dick and spooged inna’ piece a’ Hawksong gutter trash, can you make me a pretty princess pwease’? It seemed like a good way to catch one of those daggers.”

“Or to end up locked inna’ tower,” says a somewhat-smug Carazzi, as she crosses her arms and nods.

“I mean, think about what happened to the Dragon King’s LAST known relative?” Zith-Zi asks, darkly.

“Do you mean Lord Yosef?” you ask. “I think that has more to do with him being a knight who slew Reptilians than some sort of family grudge. He and Izzy get along as well as can be… Well, anyway, they don’t try to kill each other.”

“Yeah, well, I ain’t risking it,” Zith-Zi sniffs. "Don't need his charity, an' it ain't worth th' risk he wants me gone."

“Weeelllll, it sounds like we might have some other family, sorta’, that we could be friends with instead?” pipes up Carazzi.

Zith-Zi looks confused at her interjection. Your own curiosity is sated, so you leave the demogoblin to explain the 'Ayla-Veigar situation' to her nilbog sister. After all, Izzy (and Costella?) apparently have been asking after you. Before you go, though, you can’t resist a parting shot:

“Hey, Zi… If you want my help with Efron, let me know. I can sort him out. And if he’s still so set on one of you being a stay-at-home parent, I might be able to work out a spell so HE can be the pregnant one.”

“Are you threatenin’ to knock up my boyfriend?” she shoots back with a grin. “Careful now. You’ll get Pearce all hot an’ bothered!”

You flush a little at her rapid rejoinder and the unseemly mental image it conjured. Zith-Zi’s cackle follows you for a few seconds as you hurry off to go find your bride-to-be and your mutual lover. You hesitate only on the outskirts of the tent, where a few of the human women give you vaguely-disapproving looks. Nobody STOPS you, though, or even criticizes you—given that virtually everyone on Old Maple Hill knows you were born in elven lands and keep a bedroll for three, what is one more breach of tradition?
>>
>>6091597
Inside, Costella bustles about with a flurry of nervous energy, but nevertheless looks stunning in her wedding dress—a delicate creation of white silk and lace, adorned with subtle floral motifs that resonate with the natural beauty of the Hill. The embroidery is finer than mere fingers could weave, even with elven dexterity—it is the work of Nicolette Testa, who even now chases after Costella, mending tugged-loose threads or abolishing dirt before it can stain. You take a moment to admire her, feeling your heart swell with a mix of amusement and pure, sacred love. Only after she has finished adjusting a dozen details of her appearance does Costella turn and see you standing there.

“Ez!” she squeaks. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“You look… perfect.”

Her freckled face warms a little, and she beams, looking you up and down and replying: “Like… You too.”

“I heard that you and Izirina were looking for me?” you ask.

“Oh, well… Yeah…”

Costella’s face falls, and she starts to say something. The moment is interrupted by Izirina bursting in and nearly crashing into you, though, and before you can ask either of them what’s wrong, she hauls you out.

“Izzy! What in the Hells—”

“I found them,” she says breathlessly.

“…What? Who?”

“The Fanuccis.”

Your confusion turns to fear, at the way she speaks the name, and the expression on her face.

“I divined their location,” she says. “Costella was… She was getting worried. I wanted to make sure they were coming.”

(Right, you suppose you COULD have just asked her to do that… You always forget how many magics Izirina has mastered. No WONDER you generally lagged behind her in classes, growing up…)


“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Their wagon broke down on one of the stretches between the main road and here,” she says.

“So we’ll go retrieve them, then,” you say immediately. “We can take a <Dimension Door> to their location, right?”

“We can,” she says, then hesitates. “But Tips, I also… Scried a bit into the future.”

“The—?” you pause, then glare. “Izzy…”

That spellcraft… It implies she called upon the help of the Nothic’s so-called ‘Akashic Record’ the predictive mystical mechanism of the dark gods.

“I know, but I was…” she stops, biting her lip. “I just wanted to do what I could, to help. I’m sorry. But I saw… Sensed danger. To them.”
>>
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>>6091601
You take a sharp breath. Danger to the Fanuccis, out on the road? Bandits, or maybe monsters? The Paladins can’t be everywhere at once, after all, and even the long-safe road to and from Hakwsong had grown less secure as royal coffers shrunk, trade slowed, and the after-effects of plague and dragon-rampage were felt.

Or was this some scheme by the Dark Gods, attempting to lure you back onto the path they desired after you’d spent the better part of two years foiling them, and guiding their ‘antipaladin’ down the path of peace with the lands of your birth? Izzy DID obtain this premonition by way of dark magic.

What do you do?
>Teleport over to aid them immediately, just you and Izzy
>Gather some reinforcements and head off in force
>Hold fast, and trust that this is some sort of trick
>Write-in
>>
>>6091603
>Teleport over to aid them immediately, just you and Izzy
Quick teleport, in and out, 5 minute adventure Morty
>>
>>6091606
>>
>>6091603
>Teleport over to aid them immediately, just you and Izzy
>>
>>6091603
Hm. I want teleport but with Oncyth to back us up. Just him should do. Not sure if that counts as
>Teleport
or
>Gather some reinforcements
>>
>>6091681
[Reinforcements, since you have to go find him and explain what's happening first.]
>>
>>6091684
Alright I’ll do that then
>>
Here’s my thought process right now.

Carlos and their family are not a major threat anymore since we paid the bride price. They would gain nothing from attacking us right now.

Same goes for the sylvan realm agents. Costella isn’t even involved in the prophecy, let alone her parents, so they won’t benefit either. Our agreement with the commander was a month. Trying to harm them won’t do them any favors at that matter, either.

Right now, I’m thinking of two possibilities:

Unseelie remnants
Discontent members of the merchants guild (or whatever guild that thinks our products is unfairly not considered magic goods - i forgot the name)

In either option having reinforcements could be good.
>>
>>6091603
>>Teleport over to aid them immediately, just you and Izzy
So we're supposed to be unscrutable due to our Master Spell
If any plan of the Nothic involve scrying, I really hope it will fuck it in the eye and RQM won't pull an ACKCHUALLY he planned around your actions because we took the freedom road that would allow us to exactly avoid this kind of bullshit and it would mean our choice of Free-from-scrying spell was a waste of our unique 9th spell slot and that would make me really sad

Sorry RQM was hurted earlier today by another QM deeply in love with the Love Hurts trope
>>
>>6091794
Maybe the Nothic is setting it up to ambush US
>>
>>6091681
>+1
>>
>>6091961
[Final Revelation prevents people from being able to predict your future or locate you with scrying, and renders your Demiplane and your descendants similarly immune. it makes it hard to predict the future around them and the areas they inhabit, too. Their decisions and behaviours cannot be factored directly into prediction. People cannot cast <Guidance> to find your weaknesses, either. It does NOT make you immune to being manipulated, lied to, tricked, or ambushed by mundane means.]

>>6091606
>>6091655
>>6091710
>>6091961
>>6092338
[Writing!]
>>
Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>6092430
“Maybe we should get someone,” you mutter nervously. “Oncyth, maybe?”

(Gods know a dire werewolf in your corner never hurts… Or maybe you could at least go fetch Muffins from the tent, where he’s keeping Costella company?)

Izirina doesn’t contradict your musings, but you see her frown deepen, and you can practically read her thoughts: how long will that take, to gather up reinforcements? What could happen in the meantime, if her vision was true? And what of the magic to transport them—greater for each individual who passes through the portal of the <Dimension Door>?

“…We should go.”

Izzy nods almost before you’ve finished speaking. You two step just far enough away from the main event to avoid inciting any panic, and she casts the spell to transport the two of you. Before she passes through the <door>, she looks back at you with the barest quirk of a smile, and says:

“I think we’re more than enough to handle whatever we find, anyway.”

The word—and the truth behind them, since you ARE both formidable mages—brings you some solace. When Veloz comes zipping towards you and alights upon your hat, your comfort redoubles, and your anxiety halves.

“Never too far, are you?” you ask your familiar, stroking his cheeks beneath his thin bill.

The lunar hummingbird makes a shrill trumpet of agreeance, or perhaps it is a cry to battle. You nod in agreement, and follow Izirina through the portal.

On the other side, you find neither Fanucci family nor any assailants. Unfortunately, Izirina’s divination is not so precise as that; her primary specialty remains the broad discipline of Conjuration. However, you’ve traveled hours in an instant, and those hours could prove precious.

“I’ll cast <Guidance> she suggests, closing her eyes and shifting her posture as she moves her hands and murmurs arcane incantations—including some distinct DARK syllables which trouble you to hear. You don’t comment on it, though, as you are already taking advantage of your own methods to canvas the area—especially Veloz, who provides a ‘low cost’ method of seeing through the eyes of a fast-moving, aerial observer without expending aura to cast <Wildshape> or the like. The connection I a little more tenuous and the sight less clear and sure than before you expelled your elven blood and the bulk of Banelight’s power with it… But it should still be enough.

(Probably? Hopefully...)
>>
>>6092445
“There!”

You your mild frustration, it’s Izirina who espies them first. You mentally recall Veloz as you turn to her expectantly. Her expression gives you no great hope.

>28

“They’re in danger, right now.”

“Then—”

“<Dimension Door>!”

Again, Izzy pre-empts your request. You waste no time with thanks or praise, nor does she seem to expect it. You both hurtle through the portal, and you try to send a signal—hopefully successfully—for Veloz to redirect his rouse to your new location.

You arrive upon a rolling plain or most-likely fallow farmland. Its curve and waves, its local plant-life, all attest to human influences rather than the region’s more ancient and wild nature. Nature AH begun tor reclaim it, though, but a NEW nature-and one with a helping hand. Here, a burned tree catches your eye, split by sudden heat as if exploded from within even as it crumbles to ash without—dragonfire from years past. Dilapidated and collapsing barns and silent homestead attest to the flight of the people here in response. Their crops mingle with the inedible grasses, or are swallowed up by them. Here, a young feral hog; there, a wild hare. Neither has known human master.

And Man, too, has forgotten himself.

As you follow Izzy over the Hill, your passive observations are broken by the sight of a dead horse, still reigned but struck down by arrows. A moment after you notice the poor beast, you take in the broader scene: the cart he was pulling, and Edmondo Fanucci attempting to negotiate with a pack of lean deprived-looking men down below. By their dress, you almost take them for roving rocs or goblins but, no, these are Men—Northmen, even—and probably relatively local if you had to guess. When the villages emptied themselves, fleeing from the triple blights the dragons, the pox, and the terrible season for farming and trade which followed, these were the dregs left behind. Too proud, too stubborn, or too hopeful for their homes’ revitalization, they’d stayed. When hope had died, they’d still stayed.

You’d heard about the roving bandit-bands, as hostile as any monster, but it’s another thing altogether to see them—and so close to the capital, relatively-speaking!
>>
>>6092459
You count a dozen men milling about, chattering amongst themselves. Most if not all are armed, albeit crudely: simple bows, knives and hatchets meant for work rather than war, a converted scythe. You see a few of them skulking towards the flank of the stopped wagon behind the dead horse. Mister Fanucci, seeing them, shouts something, only to be seized and hauled back by the larger man he was speaking to, who leans down and says something to him which you cannot hear, but which makes your soon-to-be father-in-law pale so noticeably your non-elf eyes can still see it from here. As the men close in on the covered wagon presumably containing his wife and second daughter, a sword flashes out in a shining blade of sunlit silver steel and one of the bandits stumbles back, clutching the hand with which he’d reached for the wagon’s curtain-cover. He screams in pain and rage, and the other bandits being to close ranks like wolves descending on a dying deer. Mister Fanucci shouts:

“No!”

He says some more, which you cannot parse but which sounds panicked. The apparent leader (or at least head negotiator) of these thieves puts his hands on his hips and seems to still be listening, shouting to a few of his men, who slow. Queerly, the brigand-in-chief seems to be looking about, as if expecting something, or someone… As if stalling. His attire, too, seems somehow finer. You squint, and you THINK you see the intangible, ineffable twinkle of arcana about him.

What do you do?
>Descend with <Wildsahpe> and attempt to upcast <Sanctuary> to render the wagon a protected place—a move which will give you room to negotiate, but use up much of your magic if it even works
>Join together with Izirina Henzler in raining fire and fury down upon the bandits before they are aware of you—destroy them all
>Assume <Improved Aethereal Form> and sneak closer, to learn what exactly is being discussed and who these men are; having Izzy wait in the wings
><Summon> a great an terrible elemental with Izirina’s assistance, and use it to intimidate these bastards
>Write-in
>>
File: Ezreal, Level 5.png (321 KB, 1503x621)
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[Oh, and have an updated sheet for reference!]
>>
>>6092462
Leg
>>
>>6092460
Tips: greater disjunction on bandit leader using Veloz
Izzy: summon lightning elemental to distract the rest of the bandits

We take out the one with potential for magic first.
>>
>>6092460
We are getting baited. They have hostages.

I'd Write-in a
>Greater disjunction on bandit leader
>Power Word : Kill or any other Nova option on the Bandit chief
>Talk-no-jutsu : Scram to the fodder.
>>
>>6092460
>Join together with Izirina Henzler in raining fire and fury down upon the bandits before they are aware of you—destroy them all
>>
>>6092527
>+1
>>
>>6092460
>Join together with Izirina Henzler in raining fire and fury down upon the bandits before they are aware of you—destroy them all
>>
Rolled 5, 1, 20, 16, 3, 15 = 60 (6d20)

>>6092527
>>6093076
>>6092609
>>6093221
>>6092614
You aren’t sure what’s happening here. Are you being baited? Is there something deeper than mere highway robbery at play? It’s too soon to say, but what you DO know is that you can’t afford to take any chances.

“I’m going to neutralize the leader,” you tell Izzy, under your breath.

“I’ll take the rest,” she replies, without hesitation.

“Non-lethally?”

“…”

“Non-lethally,” you say, with greater seriousness.

She nods. You wince a little at the delay, even if you understand it. You’re angry as well—possibly more so than she is, since you know Costella’s family better, for better or worse. What you’re NOT prepared for, though, is to slaughter humans. The horrors of the Goblin Wastes return to you. Most especially, the ultimately-avoidable casualties of your ‘disagreements’ with the elves of the Sylvanwood weigh upon your conscience. You try not to beat yourself up about them, but if Elf shall not kill Elf… Well, as a Man, should you not try to avoid killing fellow Men?

(Can you avoid it?)

You shake your head hard to clear it, and then readjust your pointed hat. You don’t’ know what’s about to happen, but if deaths can be prevented, you WILL prevent them. And it all begisn with…

“<Disjunction>!”
>>
Rolled 19, 9, 3, 9, 12 = 52 (5d20)

>>6093298
You stand up and aim the staff a you shout the word of power which concludes your fey incantation. Not every bandit hears you, but the leader certainly sees you, with his ehad on a swivel. No sooner have you cried out than he points his own hand, with a flourish of fingers and a shift in stance indicating his own attempt at arcana.

>20

Of course, nothing happens. Absent of actual magical effect, he looks like quite the fool, fumbling and flailing about as he attempts, again, to cats the spell. You breath a small sigh of relief, since you haven’t had as easy a time with your Feycraft lately.

>3/4

Still, aura remains a resource you must budget wisely in your current state. You’re grateful you’re not alone, especially when the bandit chief (if indeed he is worthy of such a title) shouts to his men to turn their attention to you. With his confused and confounded casting, he has wasted precious time, such that by the time they organize themselves, it is already too late to seize any initiative. Those with ranged weapons take up bows and notch arrows in time for Izirina’s muttered magical murmuring to materialize electrified entities from the Elemental Planes.

“<Summon Elemental>!” comes her cry, again and again, as two, three, FOUR of those lightning-sprites appear and descend upon the off-balance outlaws.

5d20 for Izzy (DC 15), 3d20 for the bandits (DC 15, +1 for each degree of Izzy's success), 2d20 for their leader (DC 18 due to your crit against him)
>>
Rolled 6, 8, 9, 7, 5 = 35 (5d20)

>>6093301
Oops, and the rest of those dice
Also, that 3/4 is yoru MP, if it wasn't clear
>>
>>6093302
>19 vs 6, 8, 9
>7, 5 for the bandit leader
What follows is an utter rout. Whatever magical defences this motley crew of miscreants might have mustered were evidently entirely reliant upon their not-so-fearless leader. To his credit, you suppose he stands his ground, and even attempts to ignore the elementals to instead charge towards the two of you. With his poor excuse for ranged support being so menaced by the magical constructs, however, he is utterly unable to gain ground. His is repeatedly cut off and tripped up by his own scattering horde, whom you can hear him curse and cajole to no avail. He grabs and bullies one of his archers, who shakes his head vociferously rather than fire upon you, seeing as his fellow bowmen are currently convulsing upon the ground under even the ‘less-lethal’ attentions of Izirina’s literal shock-troops.

You spare a glance at the Fanucci’s, who bear witness to this assault with an alarm which turns to open awe. The pale faces of the family’s women, and their sword-swinging protector Gabriele, peer out from within the carriage in wonderment as you bring these men to heel.

It’s almost embarrassingly easy.

The criminals must realize that the jig is, as their lot say, up. Those who can flee, do so. Their ringleader watches them go with a mix of contempt and dismay, hurling invectives at their retreating backs. Looking back at you and at Izirina’s small-but-energetic elemental army, though, he seems to see the good sense in their tactical withdrawal. With apparent reluctance, he makes to join them.

What do you do?
>Pursue them—and their magically-capable master in particular—for you want to capture their leader for questioning
>Focus on rounding up and forcing the surrender of those who remain, and protecting the Fanucci family
>Write-in
Well, I imagined this being a longer scene, but with rolls like those...
>>
>>6093307
>Pursue them—and their magically-capable master in particular—for you want to capture their leader for questioning
yup, another human classic. btw why didn't the leader convulsed with the disjunction like the sage elf did ?
>>
>>6093301
Weird how a 20 disjunction didn’t do anything to him but short circuit his spell. Last time we did it that priest was shaking and got a fever

>>6093307
A boss who gives not a single fuck about his underlings. Oh wow. When have we seen that before. We’re not letting them leave to rob another day.

Izzy: spilt her force
1 stays behind to capture
3 pursues - order is to stop them from fleeing or attacking
Izzy herself stays

Tips:
Send ice & lightning elementals to capture them

Use energy drain to continuously refill mana and send as many as he could.

Only stop when he can’t energy drain them and have 3/4 mana.
>>
>>6093373
Am >>6092527

*Energy drain the surrendered bandits AFTER they have been disarmed and in bindings.
>>
>>6093307
>Pursue them—and their magically-capable master in particular—for you want to capture their leader for questioning

Just leave the summons here
>>
>>6093335
>>6093373
[Elves and especially those like Clanirae, who are closer to the eladrin are more inherently magical and divine in nature. Disrupting or severing their connection to their power source and their creators is much more traumatic than it is to a human.]
>>
>>6093307
>Pursue them—and their magically-capable master in particular—for you want to capture their leader for questioning

Alright this should have definitely monkey wrenched whatever dark gods of secret plan he had.
>>
>>6093307
>Dont pursue
We have a wedding to attend
>>
>>6093440
I see
>>
>>6093335
>>6093373
>>6093374
>>6093380
>>6093573
>>6093655
“Izzy, I’m going after that abstard!”

“Right!”

You’re no cruel killer, but you’re also no naïve fool, no matter what anyone might say. Letting some wicked little hedge-mage go free to rob and pillage doesn’t sit right with you, even on your wedding day. Besides, you have QUESTIONS for this blackguard. Maybe it’s paranoia, but you can’t help wondering: is he an agent of the Dark Gods? Only by capturing him alive will you find your answer.

Izirina remains behind, with one of her four lightning elementals in reserve. Exceptional skill or not, you can tell she’s tapped—two teleportations, four summons, and a scrying will do that to a human. You still have aura to spare—albeit not quite so much as you’re used to—and so you go ahead. With Veloz and three sparking storm-sprites flying in formation behind you, you feel up to the task.

…But then again, cardiovascular exercise was never your main focus was it?

You find yourself lagging behind the retreating ruffians. They may be malnourish malcontents, but you have what some might backhandedly refer to as ‘a scholar’s constitution’. Luckily, you also have a scholar’s mind—a SORCERER’s mind—and other options to catch up to your quarry. Several, in fact!

You opt to…

>Send Veloz ahead and, through your link with your familiar, deliver a spell to the bandit leader [which one?]
>Assume a winged <Wildshape>, and attempt to overtake him by air
>Deliver a <Lightning Bolt> from a distance, and hope it doesn’t kill the chief highwayman
>Assume <Improved Aethereal Form> and, hidden from conventional sight, sneak upon the man and spy upon him to learn his purposes
>Write-in
>>
>>6093980
>Deliver a <Lightning Bolt> from a distance, and hope it doesn’t kill the chief highwayman
>>
>>6093980
>Assume a winged <Wildshape>, and attempt to overtake him by air
>>
>>6093980
>Assume <Improved Aethereal Form> and, hidden from conventional sight, sneak upon the man and spy upon him to learn his purposes
Them thinking its only the elementals chasing them is a useful diversion.

Am >>6092527
>>
>>6093980
>Assume <Improved Aethereal Form> and, hidden from conventional sight, sneak upon the man and spy upon him to learn his purposes
>>
>>6094020
>>6094055
>>6094120
>>6094142
“<Aethereal Form>…”

>2/4 MP

It feels odd, having to mouth the magic words to enact the transformation. For years, it’s been part-and-parcel to your very nature—a memory of how you, Izirina, and Costella first became ‘entangled’ in so many ways. In losing your elvish-fey aspect, though, you lost that, too. It’s strange how much it DOES feel like a loss, too, despite how problematic that condition as for you…

But you have the women who shared that moment, and many more memories will yet be made. In fact, you have a wedding to get back to! You shouldn’t tarry, dwelling on the past, or what’s been lost. There are yet more truths to seek, beginning with what, exactly, that bandit leader was up to.

As the summoned elementals harry the thieves like hunting hounds, they prove a perfect distraction. Men’s eyes cannot see someone in an aethereal state like yourself anyway—even a mage would struggle to properly perceive you, without knowing Feycraft or being expert in the binding of spirits. As the elements grow further and further from their summoner, they begin to flicker and to fade away, returning by increments from whence they came. The bandits either don’t notice or don’t understand that they’re almost free-and-clear (well, except for your own unseen eyes) and they continue their retreat. As they do so, they break apart into smaller groups. Many scurry towards the half-ruined village you’d spied in the distance below. Perhaps you can later inform Queen Ekaterine of their hiding-holes. But right now?

You have your eyes on just one of them, right now.

It’s hardly your first time running into some chief criminal who cares nothing for his subordinates, but you still find it noteworthy when the better-dressed, hardier man—and leader, and apparent mage—breaks away in a completely different direction than the rest. You follow after him, down into a valley where there rests a farmhouse. He stops and stares at it for a moment, wheezing breath of over-exertion taking on a sense of relief and finality—like he feels his flight is at an end. After all, the lightning elementals had chased his subordinates, evidently no close friends of his, and since he can’t see YOU, he must think he’s safe.

You don’t diavow him of that notion. Not yet.

In <Improved Aethereal Form>, you have something of your old grace. You cannot move like you did on Holy Luna, but you do not tire so easily, and feel lighter on your feet. You can’t keep up with the man, but nor do you lose sight of him, and you follow him down towards his base of operations, where someone waits.

“Gisela!”

(Where ‘Gisela’ waits, apparently?)
>>
>>6094439
The man cries out the name again, and the woman whose name it must be emerges from the farmhouse. She looks a little older than the criminal hedge-mage, though somehow… Unevenly aged, with some aspects of her fixed in youth, especially her face, while her hands seem to bear the wrinkles and speckles of human aging, like your father. It somehow reminds you of Izirina’s adoptive mother, and your master, Archmage Theresa Henzler.

This ‘Gisela’ and the man approach one another, reaching out to hold one another’s hands. Three younger people with familiar features, ranging in age from their late teens to late twenties, look out from the house. You, too, watch and listen.

“Did you do it?”

The man you tracked shakes his head at the question, lips pressed tight.

“But you know what she said…”

“I know what we DREAMED she said,” the man corrects his… Wife? Mother? To your discomfort, the way she looks at him, speaks to him, and touches him makes it seem like she could be either or both.

“We BOTH dreamed it, Stefan,” says Gisela, darkly. “Don’t play pretend. This isn’t hysteria. This is real. It’s HER.”

“The damned dragon killed her, took her away,” Stefan says, grimacing. “Can’t we just enjoy what we have? Isn’t that what our bargain was ABOUT?

(Wait, what? Dragon? And who is this ‘her’ and ‘she’ they’re talking about? And what is this… ‘bargain’?)

“She’s gone away before, and come back before,” Gisela says, a warning and promise at once, with a sort of zeal in her voice you’re used to hearing in sacred groves and at holy ceremonies. “She will return… And if we serve her well, she will reward us. She SAID so.”

As she speaks, Gisela moves closer to, uh, ‘Stefan’ you suppose., and paws at his chest. Their faces flush, and the man stiffens.

“Her reward…” the man moans, in an unwholesome tone, and the two embrace.
>>
>>6094440
You glance towards the house, where what you take to be their family still watch, with voyeur’s fixation. You look back at the increasingly frenzied embrace, and grimace. This whole expedition is seeming increasingly invasive, and uncomfortable.

“We should get inside,” says Stefan, breaking a deep, wet-looking kiss with what you REALLY hope is not any blood relation of his. “They sent elementals to—”

“You were followed?!”

“Shut up and listen to me for a second!” he snaps, then immediately regrets it. “Sorry, just… No. Do you SEE any elementals? But it doesn’t mean they wont’ check this way…”

The two turn and begin to head towards their isolated, but admittedly fairly well-maintained homestead, to do who knows what godforsaken acts… or maybe just to eat dinner. You are, by this point, already late for your own wedding… And yet, you have only the barest inkling of what’s going on. Do they serve a Dark God? An Unseelie escapee? A mortal enemy? It’s obvious that this man and his family are no mere opportunistic thieves, but who exactly do they serve?

>You’ll investigate later. You know where they live, and that’s enough for now. You have a wedding to get back to!
>You’ll creep inside to spy upon them and learn some more… Costella and her family will forgive you, especially after you saved them, and you need to know what’s going on.
>You’ve wasted enough time, but you’re not about to let this man and his creepy clan enjoy their evening. You reveal yourself and demand answers at the point of a crackling staff!
>Write-in
>>
>>6094442
>You’ll investigate later. You know where they live, and that’s enough for now. You have a wedding to get back to!
>>
>>6094442
>>You’ll investigate later. You know where they live, and that’s enough for now. You have a wedding to get back to!
>>
If we ever get Elfe'd before sorting this...
>Ask T-bro and Queen Eka. to send inquisition to their heresy
>>
I was wondering why irr decided to stick so close to hawksong after the paladin crackdown on her cult.

I guess its because she still had old followers and their descendants near the outskirts of the city.

But that begs the question how could her old followers have received demonic dreams? Irr herself got eaten by novices kid, Carzzi has been in goblin town and i don't think she has enough magical mastery to send people vision's anyway.

Has Ayla decided to restart irr's old cult? Or has another demon decided to take advantage of the field and move in?
>>
>>6094442
>You’ll investigate later. You know where they live, and that’s enough for now. You have a wedding to get back to!

Damn. No backup and 2 mp. That’s tough.
>>
>>6094442
>Write-in: You’ve wasted enough time, but you’re not about to let this man and his creepy clan enjoy their evening. You'll use your staff's <lighting bolt> to strike down these evil bandit cultists while you still have surprise.
>>
>>6094884
>>6094869
>>6094658
>>6094656
>>6094614
You watch the mysterious marauder return to his freaky family with silent frustration. You have questions, but none so pressing that you’ll risk missing your own wedding to answer them. Besides, they clearly have… Well, SOME sort of mystical patron, be it a Dark God or some kind of demon. You’ll alert the Queen and Prince Consort when you can, and encourage them to check this out, since you aren’t sure you’ll have the time, before you leave for your trial and… Well, whatever follows that.

Izirina looks at you questioningly when you return and remove the cloak of your <Improved Aethereal Form>. A quick shake of your head is all you reply with, and she seems to understand. You turn your attention then to the Fanuccis… And to the felled, would-be bandits, alive and tied up despite their shocking close encounter with Izirina’s elementals. One has a badly-bleeding hand but—as he was the one who was groping about the back of the carriage with untoward intentions, you can’t muster much pity for him.

“They don’t know anything,” Izirina tells you.

“So they say,” you reply sourly, sneering at the men before turning to Mister Fanucci and his family. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, I… Yes.” Edmondo Fanucci seems stunned, staring alternately at the bound men and at his dead horse. “Ezreal… Thank you. I mean it. Whatever else I have to say about all this… You and my Costa, all that… You saved us.”

You frown a little. You’d assumed Gabriele had won his father over to your side, since they were on their way to your wedding when this happened.
>>
>>6094899
“Well…” you begin.

“They seemed really interested when we said we were on our way to Old Maple Hill.” You turn to see Rosella, Costella’s younger sister, and her husband; it was Rosella doing the talking. “The big one especially…”

You frown at the interruption, and the suspicion in her voice. Opting to head this off at the past before it spoils an otherwise rather-advantageous impression, you explain: “I followed them for a while, but… I still don’t know exactly what they wanted. “

“These ones say they just wanted coin or food,” Izirina points out, pointing at the bound men. “They say they only met that man you cast <Disjunction? On a few weeks ago, but that he told them a ‘big score’ would be rolling through here.”

“A big score?”

Edmondo Fanucci looks up sharply, and says: “We don’t have… I mean, when these things are done, a father brings some money to start his daughter off.”

A dowry? You thought those had fallen out of fashion in the city… The Fanuccis really are old-fashioned.

“How did they know, though?” Rosella asks. “Like, how did they know we had that?”

“How did they know we were on our way at all?” Gabriele asks, looking up from cleaning his sword.

>Tell the Fanuccis your suspicions: that this was a targeted attack, directed by dark forces against you, though you don’t know exactly who is to blame or what they wanted
>Keep your suspicions to yourself, lest they lead to conflict on Costella’s big day

>Accept the dowry
>Decline the dowry

>Do you have anything else to speak with the Fanuccis about, away from Costella, before the ceremony
>>
>>6094900
>Keep your suspicions to yourself, lest they lead to conflict on Costella’s big day
no need to worry them about something we're not even sure yet.
>Accept the dowry
while out of fashion, if he was willing to give it, it means he's at least more warmed up about our relationship.
>>
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>>6094900
>You turn to see Rosella, Costella’s younger sister, and her husband
I didn’t know he had a daughtersisterwife what the hell bro is cunnymaxxing

>Keep your suspicions to yourself, lest they lead to conflict on Costella’s big day
We don’t know much yet. Best not to speculate without proof.

>Accept the dowry
Sure. Tell them to split them into smaller pieces rather than one big thing.

>Do you have anything else to speak with the Fanuccis about, away from Costella, before the ceremony
Ask about the situation with the carlos family and the merchant guild. How is everything? How hostile are they or what are their current doings?
>>
>>6094933
>daughtersisterwife
[Rosella is Costella's younger sister, and Rosella's husband is there also. Ines, Edmondo's wife and the mother of his kids, is also present; she just hasn't contributed meaningfully to this conversation.]
>>
>>6094900
>Withhold suspicions
>Accept money
>Thank them for coming
>>
>>6094900
>>Keep your suspicions to yourself, lest they lead to conflict on Costella’s big day
>Accept the dowry
Money for the baby.


>Do you have anything else to speak with the Fanuccis about, away from Costella, before the ceremony
Ask about the situation with the carlos family and the merchant guild. How is everything? How hostile are they or what are their current doings?
>>
>>6094964
>>6095045
>>6094933
>>6094918
You keep your suspicions to yourself, instead simply shrugging and saying: “I don’t really know how they found you or knew about you.”

“Or about your Hill?” asks Gabriele.

You shrug again, affecting an apologetic, clueless sort of look. And changing the subject.

“Edmondo… Mister Fanucci, sir. Thank you. For coming, I mean. And… For the dowry. I know both will mean a lot to Costella.”

“Huh? Oh. Well… It’s not yours quite yet,” the family patriarch says wryly.

“Right,” you agree. “We should get back!”

You and Edmondo Fanucci clasp hands and shake, just once. Gabriele sheathes his sword, but you can tell he’s still somewhat suspicious, and his sister seems to take his quiet unease as reason to continue to chatter about her traumatic experience and further fears.

“Like, what if they come to this wedding, since they know about you people at Old Maple Hill?” she asks “Does your event have security? We should call the paladins! Or maybe we should delay the whole—”

“We have security at the hill,” you say in a tone you hope reassures her, and doesn’t betray your mild annoyance at the suggestion that you delay this—after all this time, and with the deadline of your detention!

“Security?” asks Ines Fanucci, piping up. “You’ve been training people to fight up there?”

Right. You could see how bringing up the elemental infusion and attunement of your ‘task force’ might feed into the Fanucci family’s lingering suspicions of something unwholesome and untoward occurring up on the Hill.

“Just to protect ourselves, like Gabriele learning the sword,” you say. “You can never be too careful… As I guess we were all just reminded.”

“But is it going to be enough if those bandits—”

“How are things with the Concerned Association?” you blurt out, to change the subject. “With the DeGoris?”

Immediately, you regret it, as the tension only redoubles.

“Well, as you know, they dropped the case against you two.” Mister Fanucci crosses his arms, and glowers at Izirina, who says nothing but stiffens a little as she turns back to her work. “Even the things we all KNOW are true. Don’t know how you managed THAT…”

Edmondo Fanucci’s eyes flit to his son, Gabriele. The boy still seems pensive, worried about the bandits and suspicious of your reassurances, but he meets your eyes for a moment and then gives his father a nod.

“But Gabriele says it involves some sort of crown secrets, and saving Hawksong and the world. And, well… With your having just saved us too, I guess I can’t say too much.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.
>>
>>6095356
“You know,” Mister Fanucci adds, narrowing his eyes. “He told me you’d turned human, but not how or why. Was that—”

“<Dimension Door>!”

“Time to go!” you say hurriedly, not really wanting to risk further questioning, and possible, accidental disclosures before the ceremony is concluded. “Costella’s waiting!”

For all the irritation which can accompany your fractious Fanucci in-laws, their presence is well worth it. You know this in your heart the moment you reappear at Old maple Hill, and see the loom on Costella’s face as her mother and father step through the portal.

“Mama! Papa! You came!”

She throws her arms around each of them, and they hug her back.

“I was s-so w-wooOORrrIIIEED!” she wails, as her mother and father hugs her back, patting and rubbing her back.

“Everything’s okay, princess,” Mister Fanucci tells her. “We’re here. Thanks to your, uh… To Ezreal and the Archmage’s daughter.”

You purse your lips a little at their evident discomfort with Izirina, as a person and a part of your lives. In truth, they’ve mostly avoided looking at her, addressing her… You don’t’ think they’ve even thanks her, as they did you, despite SHE being the one whose elements actually saved them, after her scrying and portals enable you two to find them and come to their rescue in the first place. The whole expedition clearly took its toll on her, too: Izirina’s posture and pale pallor indicate she must be utterly depleted of arcane energies. She’s tense, too, but you can’t tell how much of that is due to being exhausted by her efforts, or upset at being so pointedly ignored by those she saved.

“Izzy, maybe you should take the, uh, prisoners to the headquarters? I’m sure Cousin Addy will be excited to have actual detainees to supervise.”

“…Right.”

You thump your staff for emphasis, and the human bandits you were able to apprehend—four in total—follow after her. A couple of those you enchanted to serve as security forces for your community, fall into a loose formation with her, to lend their aid. You breathe a sigh of relief, and turn back to the Fanuccis, Costella included. You will the tension of the attack, the unsolved mystery, and the complicated web of your unconventional relationship to exit your body, and smile.

“Shall we?”

Costella meets your eyes, and after a moment she beams back.

“Like, totally!”
>>
>>6095357
The small wedding pagoda your friendly fellowship at Old Maple Hill have constructed is rather roughshod, but well-decorated with flowers tied together by their stems, and hanging ivy. You pretend not to notice Edmondo Fanucci, ever the carpenter, knocking at the structure and lightly jostling it, clucking his tongue at the craftsmanship. It’s a temporary thing, and it will serve it purposes well enough.

“Papa!” Costella hisses, peeking out of the tent she has treated back into. “Like, you’re not supposed to be there yet!”

Mister Fanucci abandons his unsolicited inspection to take his place by the bridal tent. You share a look with your best man, and Pearce merely smirks and says:

“You know, it’s not too late to call the thing off. I mean, with in-laws like those…”

You elbow him, and the larger man laughs as he holds you at arm’s length with ease. Your play-fighting stops when you hear, on the wind, the sound of pan-pipes and the lilt of fairy voices raised in song. You both turn, to see a rare sight: the Spirit of the Old Maple, descending down from the top of the hill at the center of your land reserve, leaving his tree and fully, physically manifesting in the material plane.

“Spirit,” you acknowledge, bowing your head to the old spriggan, and withdrawing from your grapple with Pearce.

“Don’t stop on my account, young ones,” the spriggan chortles. “I have never observed a human union before. Just do as you would if I wasn’t here.”

“Well, since the officiant is here, it’s actually about time that we started,” you say, eyeing the lowering sun. “It’s already a little late.”
Just as you’re debating whether you need to cast <Daylight> yet, you hear some commotion for Costella’s tent. You look over and see her emerging. You’ve already seen her, of course, but the golden-orange rays of the setting sun seem to serve as a spotlight for her: a single ray catches her and casts her in a heavenly radiance that makes her pristine dress and flawless skin glow, and her beautiful eyes twinkle like aquamarine gems of such brilliance that your find yourself fixated upon theme even across the distance between you.

“Wow,” you exhale.

Costella takes her father’s arm, and together they proceed to where you and Pearce are standing. While Edmondo Fanucci is ostensibly leading his daughter to the pagoda, as they near it becomes apparent that his steady pace is the only thing stopping Costella’s anxious energy from sending her hurling up the makeshift petal-demarcated ‘aisle’ at into your arms with all the force of an upcasted <Magic Missile>. By the time they reach you, Costella is practically vibrating.
>>
>>6095358
You look out at the assembled crowd: Hilliers and Fanuccis, humans, beastmen, therianthropes, and not-quite-goblins, and fairy-folk aplenty have gathered to celebrate you—the two of you-and your union. It warms your heart to see, and eve if Old Maple Hill has never quite been your home, in this moment these people make you feel a sense of belonging that transcends any you’ve felt before. Even Missus Ines Fanucci’s palpable discomfort at the numerous fairy spirits fluttering about can’t spoil it. Raised in the traditions of human faiths, the abundant presence of newly-visible True Fey must be unsettling for her, but she makes no fuss, for which you are silently grateful.

The Spirit of the Old Maple lifts his branch-like hands and intones a melodious chant, invoking the ancient and mystical powers of the land, blessing the union about to be consecrated.

“Nindol zhah natha du'ased tangi, lu'udos ph'jal du'ased ulu ol'an'a ol,” begins the Spirit, his voice resonating with the deep rustle of leaves, a natural harmony that extends beyond the physical plane. “This evening, we weave together two lives, two spirits, two hearts, into one journey.”

The crowd stands in reverent silence; even the usually rambunctious goblins are subdued. You glance over at Costella, and she looks back with that radiant smile of hers, excitement shining in her eyes.

As you stand there, ready to speak your vows, your eyes wander across the assembly of well-wishers. That’s when you catch sight of Izirina at the very back of the crowd. She has returned from dropping off the prisoners, now a world apart from the joyous gathering. Her forlorn demeanor and the way she stands slightly apart from the other guests make your heart ache. You can see her hat bowed slightly, hiding her face, but the sadness is unmistakable. For a moment, you feel torn—wanting to reach out to her, to bring her into the fold of this moment that should rightfully include her.

The Spirit of the Old Maple’s voice draws you back, grounding you in the moment. “Ezreal Mious Van Houtzmann of Dappulyet,” he says slowly, enunciating each syllable as if it were an incantation, “do you have your vows prepared?”

>Write-in your vows, and anything else you want to say or do at this moment
>>
>>6095360
alright I was waiting for other anons that could be more creative than me, but since none came...

>"Costella, in all those years we've known each other and got closer I know we can count on each other be it in our happiest moments or in our darkest nights. May our love keep us together."
>>
>>6095643
[Thanks, anon! Didn't expect such decision paralysis on this one. I'll leave it open until tomorrow.]
>>
>>6095683
same, specially with an early doot.
>>
>>6095360
>I swear to take Costella Fanucci as my wife, to be faithful to her, to protect and cherish her heart and protect it always for the better flowering of our sacred love”

We should just go with normal hawksong wedding vows, with the exception of the "forswear all others" part. To mollify the Fanuccis who already seem to dislike this non-traditional wedding.
>>
i just woke up bruh
>>
>>6095722
sure I’ll support this
>>
>>6095643
>>6095722
>>6095852
“Costella,” you begin, swallowing a knot of nerves and summoning the memory of the short but (you hope) sweet verse you wrote for this moment. “In all those years we've known each other, and got closer, I've learned one thing above all: I know we can count on each other, be it during our happiest moments or our darkest nights. May our love keep us together, always.”

You catch a subtle smile on her lips, one that warms your heart and fuels your confidence, repeating those traditional phrases—ever so subtly modified—which you hope will appease your mother-in-law: “I swear to take you as my wife, to be faithful to our family, to protect and cherish your heart, and to always nurture the sacred love we share.”

Without skipping a beat, Costella takes your hands in hers, stepping closer. “Ez,” she begins, her voice catching a little at the name. “Remember when you found me at, like, my lowest point? All dragon-poxed and monstrous? You didn’t just give me my old life back, you gave me a brand NEW life. A life of magic and wonder and learning, and, like, love in forms I didn’t even know it could take!”

Your eyes instinctively flit towards Izirina, standing alone at the back of the crowd. She shifts her weight and looks down, clearly uncomfortable. Your heart aches for her, even in this moment, but before you can dwell on it, Costella’s hand gently guides your face back to hers. Her touch is warm, grounding.

“Ez, stay with me,” she whispers with a soft smile. “This is our moment.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Always.”

Costella continues, her eyes glimmering with emotion. “I vow to stand by you, through every adventure and every totally cozy little moment, too! To be your biggest cheerleader and your partner in all things. To build a new life together…” She places her hand gently on her still-flat belly, a silent but powerful acknowledgment of the child growing inside her, a child created by the three of you.

You see some gasps and subtle exchanges of surprised looks among the guests, including the Fanucci family. Ines Fanucci’s eyes widen, and you wince a little at Costella’s characteristic lack of subtlety. Yet… Yes, with your trained mage’s senses, you can see it within her: the gathering motes of a forming soul, attesting to the healthy growth of the embryo within her. Your child… All of yours.
>>
>>6096238
The Spirit of the Old Maple leans in slightly, his ancient features etched with an almost solemn joy. “By the caretakers of the earth and sky, under the sun's radiance and the moon's watchful eye, I declare you joined in the sacred bonds of love and family. May your union thrive as the verdant Hill has, thanks to you both: ever-growing, ever-lasting. May the children you bear and raise be blessed by the fates that have brought you together, as husband and wife.”

Costella beams at you, her eyes sparkling. “I love you, Ez.”

“I love you too, Costella,” you reply, feeling the depth of the words as you say them aloud for the first time as her husband.

“Now kiss!” you hear a giddy Carazzi cry from the back of the crowd.

Your slight increase in height upon becoming wholly human isn’t quite enough to match Costella’s own ‘paragon’ stature, but even if she has to lean slightly forward to kiss you, you can’t find it in you to care about such trivialities. In fact, in that moment, you could really believe marriage was its own sort of esoteric spell, for the kiss is somehow of a different character than any of those you’ve shared before. Despite the swirling whirlwind of emotions, nerves, and trepidation about the future, when your lips touch, it all melts away. For that moment, there is nothing but the two of you, the warmth you share, and the love that binds you.

The crowd erupts into applause and cheers. You and Costella break the kiss and turn to face them, hands intertwined. The moment is sweet, euphoric, and marks the beginning of your next great adventure together.


As the ritual concludes, you take a moment to lock eyes with Izirina standing at the back, her forlorn expression softening as she witnesses your happiness. She deserves to be included in this new chapter of your life, and you resolve to make sure she knows she's just as vital to both of you as ever. One day, some way, the three of you will do this again sometime, and make official this unconventional but precious thing which you have worked so hard to preserve, foster, and to grow.

Here and now, you step into your future, heart full, and hand in hand with the woman you love. Together with the volunteers of your Old Fairy Hill community, you hand out thanks and unleavened, sweetened elf-bread—or, well, the closest equivalent that you, Costella, and Izirina could create from memory and with locally-sourced ingredients.

When Edmondo Fanucci approaches you for his, he surreptitiously hands you a clinking bag of coin with a grimly-serious expression, saying: “You take good care of my princess, Van Houtzmann. I mean it.”

You nod, and accept the gift, and the stipulation. As much as his tone rankles you, you can’t object to such a request, or the fatherly feeling behind it… Not when you will soon be a father, yourself.

For the first time in a long, tumultuous while, everything feels perfectly right.
>>
>>6096240
Do you do anything else before the end of the ceremony?

>Speak with Gabriele about the attack on the carriage—he is the most understanding Fanucci besides his sister, and one of them ought to know your suspicions, in case they are targeted again
>Signal Costella to keep the guests busy, and go check on Izirina, to see how she’s holding up emotionally
>Go speak with the prisoners directly—you have questions for them, even if they say they know little about that ‘Stefan’ man [specify if you have any in mind]
>Write-in
>No [skips to the last week before Ezreal's arrest and transport]
>>
>>6096241
>Signal Costella to keep the guests busy, and go check on Izirina, to see how she’s holding up emotionally

Izzy seems distraught we should go help her.
>>
>>6096241
>Signal Costella to keep the guests busy, and go check on Izirina, to see how she’s holding up emotionally
>>
>>6096241
>Signal Costella to keep the guests busy, and go check on Izirina, to see how she’s holding up emotionally
>>
>>6096241
>Signal Costella to keep the guests busy, and go check on Izirina, to see how she’s holding up emotionally
>>
>>6096489
>>6096586
>>6096665
>>6096667

When the congratulations let up a little, you make meaningful eye-contact with your wife—wife! It still gets you a little—and guide her gaze towards Izirina. Costella frowns to see the third member of your trio sulking sadly, and you get the feeling she’d just as soon come with you to offer comfort. BOTH of you heading that way would only draw privacy-spoiler attention, though. As Costella is simply more of a people-person, and far more attention grabbing in her frilly white ensemble, she takes over hostess duties while you assume a quick <Improved Aethereal Form> to glide under everyone else’s notice.

Even with a sizable amount of your aura lost, and your very spirit modified, the entanglement between the three of you must be enough for Izirina Henzler to sense your approach. She doesn’t say anything, but you see turn away, tilting her hat down and lifting her shaded glasses up to wipe away some tears. By the time you reach her, she has assumed a calm façade… But be it by magical mishap or childhood bond, you are just as entangled with her, and she’s not fooling you.

“Hey, do you want to talk?” you ask. “Privately?”

Izzy starts to shake her head, but the hesitation was such and the need was so obvious that you’ve already half-cast <Demiplane>, and you opt not to stop.

“Wait, Tips! Your aura!”

Izirina quickly joins you in the cast, her own mostly-depleted reserve supplementing your so that the two of you don’t faint on arrival. You’re both woozy and winded, though, leaning outside the small ‘gate’ to your wizard’s keep. The Unseelie Star’s warmth—a radiance beyond mere temperature—reassures you that you’ll recoup enough energy for a return journey… After a talk.
>>
>>6096678
“…It’s fine, you know?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, unconvinced, and hold out your hand to her.

Izirina stares at the proffered hand with a conflicted feeling, and for a moment you think she might cry again. She doesn’t cry, though; she takes your hand, and together you enter into your home—you real home, the dome you two made together with all your arts and abilities.

Still, Izzy remains stubborn. You’ve worked on your communication as a throuple, AND one-on-one, but there’s really only so much you can expect from the withdrawn, moody heir to Archmage Henzler. You know there must be a lot on her mind: feeling ‘second place’ to the woman you’ve publicly-wedded, and who is carrying your child… Even if the child IS also Izzy’s, thanks to your mastery of chimericism. You also know YOU’LL have to be the one to broach the subject, and to offer reassurances to her.

“You know, we’ll get married, too, someday,” you tell her gently. “this was all circumstance… You and Costell are both equal to me, and you KNOW Costella wants to find a way to marry you herself.”

“Well, maybe we can explore our options while you’re… Gone.”

Izzy’s bitter grumble takes you back a little. Her face contorts in guilt and, she immediately averts her eyes again and shrinks in on herself, only muttering an unintelligible apology.

“This… Isn’t about the wedding, then?”

Izirina shakes her head slightly.

“Izzy… I’m going to come back?”

“WHEN though?” she blurts out, looking up. “and WHY? Whya re you going at ALL?”

“For the sake of, of all KINDS of things. Our family. My religion. World peace, Izzy!”

You try not to sound frustrated, but she KNOWS all this. You’ve been OVER it.

“I just… We canvassed all those tunnels!” she whines., clenching her hands to fists in her frustration. “You’ve always been willing to do what you thought was right, and… And DAMN all the consequences and what people thing, or even GODS! I just… Don’t understand why you’re handing yourself over like this.”

“Izzy…”

“Stay here at the keep! Call the… The Dragon King! Anything instead of just SURRENDERING!”

“You’re being unfair, Izzy. You know it’s not that simple. I want us to be able to have a normal life later, and our child as well.”

“I don’t WANT normal, Tips! I want YOU!”

You frown, feeling faintly offended at the implication.
>>
>>6096682
“That... Came out wrong,” she says hurriedly. “And I'll wait for you. Obviously. I’ll… Of course I’ll be here. Nothing’s changed. And of course I’ll be there for Costella. But how many years are we going to lose to this… This crisis of faith, or whatever it is you’re experiencing?!”

You don’t say anything for moment, watching Izzy’s extremities tremble and her back and chest rise and fall with deep breaths.

“When we went to save Costella’s family, it just… Reminded me. Of when things were simpler. And returning to the wedding, it all felt so much like… Cleaning up loose ends, before you’re…”

Izirina’s voice, hoarse from shouting, not trails off to a whimper.

“Izzy,” you say her name again, and reach out to squeeze her arm. You take the other in your hands when she proves receptive, and pull her into a hug. She clings to you with such violent need that, if she had Ayla’s claws, you suspect your wedding suit would be shredded.

“I don’t want you to go,” she says, softly and with a curiously cute childishness to it. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay.”

It reminds you of the first time you stayed the night with her, in her childhood room high in the Hawksong Mages’ Tower, all those years ago. It’s the same lonesome plea, from the same scared girl who captured your imagination, piqued your curiosity, and ultimately became an irreplaceable part of your life.

What will you do?
>Apologize, but you must do this, no matter what
>Make a plan with Izirina, that if you do not return in a set time, she will sue the Unseelie tunnel system to free you [what is time you set?]
>Agree, for Izirina’s sake, to go back on your word to the Woodland Rangers
>Write-in
>>
>>6096683
[Oh, and if you're leaving and facing the music, write-ins to soothe Izirina's feelings about it are encouraged, and might help keep her a little more 'stable' while you're away.]
>>
>>6096683
>Apologize, but you must do this, no matter what
We did the crime, we must do the time
Although....Maybe we can make another clone of ourselves for Izzy and Costella, a true clone this time. Not like we'll need magic in jail, and there couldn't possibly be any long term complications that arise.
>>
>>6096683
>>Make a plan with Izirina, that if you do not return in a set time, she will sue the Unseelie tunnel system to free you [what is time you set?]
Six month.
We play pretend, but we did a whole lot on our side and now way we miss the birth.
>>
>>6096683
>Apologize, but you must do this, no matter what
>>You (and Costella) could come with us. You won’t be imprisoned with us… but being in the elven realm could certainly make visiting a little easier.


This would also make it really hard for Theral to come visit and get influence our kid which is an added bonus. I don’t know if Costella especially would go for it, though. But we can at least bring it up.
>>
>>6096772
And write-ins to soothe and a cringe write-in you can paraphrase or ignore.

>The elves will treat us well since we came to agreement with their god.
>We’ll write to her whenever we can. The elves aren’t as cruel to prevent communication (even if they might read over it).
>When we were separated after the attunement my love for you only grew stronger. I tried to forget you after you hurt me, but I couldn’t. You were always in the back of my mind clawing for attention. I couldn’t forget about you even when I WANTED to. You were always with me even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it and even when we were apart. And I’ll always be with you no matter how much this hurts you.
>>
>>6096772
Hm. I don’t know about this one. The elves would probably convict us for murder of the elf rangers and that priest but Izzy was involved in it too. If that comes through during the trial maybe izzy would get some blame for that too.

>>6096683
>Apologize, but you must do this, no matter what

It’s too bad. The rule of elves not killing elves was arbitrary to begin with and now we’re on the short end of it.

I don’t want Izzy to break us out otherwise the hostility would continue and the peace talk would’ve been for naught, but maybe could negotiate to visit Izzy / Costella or see the birth of Izzy’s kid.
>>
>>6096788
am >>6095852
>>
>>6096772
This is also a good suggestion
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>>6096788
>abitrary
[Aside from there being very few societies where killing a commando team wouldn't upset their government, and most societies discouraging people from killing each other, the elves are being actively guided by divine entities who abhor killing to the point they want to remove it from nature. They're also a very slow-reproducing and long-lived race, so each early death is a lot more impactful and tragic to them as a society. A ranger killed in the prime of their life, at 50 or 60 for instance, could have had another two centuries ahead of them, during which they probably would have had two or three kids, which the elves desperately need.]
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>>6096683
>Apologize, but you must do this, no matter what
this is a do or don't situation, unfortunately
>>
>>6097016
>got custody of a prisoner fair and square
>spook in the government tries to kill us after trusting his computer a little too much

Total fed deafh
>>
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>>6097355
>>6096805
>>6096788
>>6096782
>>6096772
>>6096749
>>6096731
“I’m sorry, Izzy, but I have to do this.” You frown, struck again but the unfairness and unfortunateness of your circumstances. “If we’d known that those elves weren’t going to kill us… If they hadn’t drawn those swords…”

Izirina grimaces, an expression of fury. A moment later, though, a realization hits and as it dawn upon her you see her face fall, and the whirling air about her lets out in an instant as she slump.

“This is all because of me,” she whispers. “Because of what I did. I’m to blame.”

You realize your error, and quickly correct course, seizing Izirina’s forearms before she can bolt. Youd’ just glad she’s too tired to cast right now.

“We DID do what we did, though. You, and me. I gave the word. If I didn’t realize, how were YOU supposed to? I’m the elf. Or, well… I was.”

You can see that this is doing little to soothe Izzy’s guilt or regret. You wrack your brain for a solution, and an amusing idea occurs to you.

“You know,” you say with a small smirk, “I could make you a <Clone>, for while I’m gone? You know, like Veigar for Ayla?”

Izirina looks up at you shocked and almost insulted.

“I don’t want a copy, Ezreal.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “I was just trying to lighten the mood. But I’ll write, and often. I’m sure they won’t be so cruel as to deny us that. They just might, you know… Read through what we write.”

Izzy nods, a quick, terse bob of the head. You sigh.

The two of you sit together in quiet for a time, after that, hips and shoulders close together, saying nothing. Your shared company is enough. It has to be. Whatever time you have left, you must make it count.

“You two could always come with me?” you eventually suggest. “You and Costella, I mean? And the baby, too!”

“…To prison?”

“Well obviously not to PRISON,” you huff. “I mean to the Sylvan Realms. With Princess Miannie having given me her blessing—well, kind of—and with me cooperating, I’m sure they’ll be willing to allow visitors. And if you were close at hand…”

Izirina looks hopefully for a moment, then grimaces.

“Do you think I’d be welcome there? The murderer, from the House of Yosef?”

“There IS no House of Yosef,” you remind her. “It’s gone for good. We were there when the Queen signed a pact about that.”

Izzy frowns, but nods. Perhaps she doesn’t believe all the elves will see things that way. Perhaps she’s right, though you have more faith in the goodwill of the elven race than that. You have to—you’re leaving your fate at their mercy. Of course, there are other factors, too.
>>
>>6097452
“Costella won’t like that,” she says. “Her parents and siblings will still be here.”

“And there’s the Hill,” you admit, having realized it as soon as you made the suggestion. “The people here need us… Need you.”

“And Mother,” Izirina adds, “She’s not… I don’t think her alchemy is working as well as it sued to. She sends so much time in her room—not even her laboratories, just in her room.”

She lowers her voice, as if afraid to say the words allowed, but still she does so: “I think she’s… getting old.”

You raise your eyebrows at this, genuinely surprised. You never did figure out how old your Master truly was. One hundred and fifty? Two hundred? Older still? Despite the fact that she’d already surpasses a human’s natural lifespan by at least a few decades, you have to admit it’s tough to imagine her truly aged, let alone… Dying. But if she is, well, you can empathize with why Izirina wouldn’t want to be away for an extended period. Your own thought turn to Rudolfo—to your father, and you mirror your lover’s glum expression. Before you can sink too deeply into sadness, though, Izirina’s hand finds yours, and you look over at her.

“But we’ll visit,” she says, forcing a stiff smile. “Whenever we can, and whenever they let us.”

You smile back, and kiss her. She kisses you back, and the two of you embrace again, until such time as you have the aura necessary to <Plane Shift> back to Old Maple Hill. You aren’t quite able to recapture the sense of optimism and triumph, but nor do you let the uncertain future spoil the here and the now. Aided by some grain alcohol gifted by the Pearce family farm, and by a bit of left-over shirin, you make the most of the night—of your freedom, with the friends and family who have been and always will be there for you.

You make sure to give your father a long hug when he leaves for the city, the next morning.

A week remains before Ranger Commander Qinfir will return to escort you to the land of your birth, to stand trial before Iternagreyn’s Council of Elders.

Do you have any unfinished business to attend to?
>Yes [write-in]
>No
This will be your last chance in this quest to visit Hawksong or to directly interact with most of the cast as Tips.
>>
>>6097454
>Yes [write-in]
I mean, we could visit the archmage. Might as well. We may never get the chance after this. Go inform her of our circumstances too, and how we probably won’t be available to help hawksong for a while.
>>
>>6097515
>+1
>>
>>6097454
>No
Ugh I don't wanna talk to Henzler
>>
>>6097515
+1
>Go see how there Jackalopes(?) we made are doing.

I feel like the Jackalopes were our first hard moral stance, and it’s about life, so I feel like it’ll reinforce our beliefs before the trial and be a nice callback.
>>
Supporting Jackaloping
>>
>>6097627
it'd be nice if we could visit them as well
>>
>>6097515
+1
I don't like the archmage but we do have unfished business there.
>>
>>6097900
>>6097858
>>6097696
>>6097627
>>6097536
>>6097519
>>6097515
While you spend much of the week making memories (and making love, to make up for the anticipated lost time) with the women you love, this isn’t all you do. You said most of your goodbyes at the wedding, but not all of them. A rather peculiar impulse occurs to you one day, in fact, as you realize there are three people (?) whom you ought t give a proper farewell. The easiest are the jackalopes, so you start with them.

It feels like a lifetime ago that you ‘made’ the jackalopes; in actuality, it’s over a third of yours by now, which is impressive enough. In many ways, they were the first major stepping stone on the path you walked to get here: a path of uncompromising commitment to using magic for the cause of what is right and good. Their creation, or transformation, was your first truly great work of magic, and the way in which Feycraft altered them informed so much of how you later utilized that sacred and ancestral art thereafter.

“Hey!” you greet the pair of them, unable to help a grin as the two humanoid, feytouched creatures come hopping, bounding and sprinting towards you. “Woah, woah, slow dow—OOF!”

You are bowled over and tumble down the hill by the impact of their simultaneous affection. Only Muffins’ presence at your back stops your descent and cushions your fall. His simultaneous snarl, hiss, and angry caprine bleat forces them back long enough for you to get your bearings and your footing, though you’re quick to <Calm> his predatory instinct afterwards, and to give him some dried meat left over from the meal served to the Bloodrise delegation, to keep him occupied.

“How have you been?”

The pair of them look up at you expectantly, almost fawningly. They say nothing, but then you didn’t really expect them to. You’re not sure what level of comprehension they really have, for Common or Elven or anything else. They’re humanoid in shape, but only at a glance; unlike a beastman, these awakened and augmented animals are still long in the torso, and their limbs laid out peculiarly, such that hopping and jumping seems easier for them than walking or running. Their heads remain small, and as a modern adherent of the biological magics, you well understand the skull and brain as the seat of memory and language in material beings. Their ‘answer’ is to nuzzle, cuddle, and sniff at you, and to chew gingerly upon your cloak as you observe them. The clinical fascination of an alchemist turns to the pride of… Well, of almost a parent.

(Maybe the glimmer of gathering aura within Costella’s midsection simply has you feeling a little paternal?)
>>
>>6098373
Still, these two really were the start, weren’t they? Refusing to sacrifice one to the other, even in pursuit of knowledge, you created two jackalopes: one true, and one false. You elevated them beyond their base nature, and gave them a place to call their own. Among the Old Mapel Hill fairy court, subjects of the spriggan. In them you see the genesis of the many dualities which have defined your life, and your work, thus far.

Zith-Zi and Carazzi…

Izirina and Ayla…

(Izirina and COSTELLA? Maybe that’s a stretch…)

And of course, you and the ‘other you’, Veigar.

Observing them now, as you rest together atop the hill and share some rabbit-safe vegetable-based snacks you brought from the settlement at the base, you take in the subtle differences: one with hooves, one without; one spotted and striped, one solidly coloured; one changing with the seasons, one static and fixed. One was born a rabbit (or perhaps deer?) while the other was a jackalope from the day it was born, long before you encountered it one fateful fay, and in saving its lie changed it irrevocably and evermore.

A curious question occurs to you, stroking their ears and finding them equally soft…

Is there a True Jackalope and a False Jackalope? Is one any more ‘real’ than the other?
>Yes
>No
>Write-in

Do you meddle with their minds, bodies, or souls any further?
>Yes, instill them with something of yourself that they might achieve full awareness as men and elves do
>No
>Yes, but specifically... [write-in]

Did you have anything else to say or do while you're here, before you visit the final person on your list?
>Yes [write-in]
>No

[Archmage next. then: the trial, and the epilogue.]
>>
>>6098377
>Yes
>No
>No
>>
>>6098377
>Yes

>No

>No
>>
>>6098377
>Yes
But one isn’t inherently better than the other. They’re just different.

>No
We don’t really need to do that. And higher understanding can be a higher burden. They ought to live their lives without being stressed about stuff they can’t alter to begin with

>Yes
Tell the spriggan about our circumstances if we hadn’t already. We might not be back for a while.
>>
>>6098377
>No
>No
>Yes [Veigar and Ayla]

I feel like we should check up on them and make sure they’re good. And possibly talk about Carrizi with them.
>>
>>6098377
>Yes
They are not the same. Both are Jackalope, but you can't just brush away the past like this when it have repercussions on their phenotype and development.
Same as Tips. Despite spoon-ears he's more elven than human.

Still I hope the Jackalope can breed and make smallckalopes, which will be 100% real Jackalopes
>No
>No
>>
>>6098377
>>Yes
The true and the false jackalope share blood with each other, they are relative now. Especially after being infused by fey magic.

>Yes, instill them with something of yourself that they might achieve full awareness as men and elves do

Some chimera fey beast-men could help guard the hill after we are gone.

>No
>>
>>6098377
>Does it matter? They’re both here now, and so fuzzy and soft…
>Yes, instill them with something of yourself that they might achieve full awareness as men and elves do
>Yes, but specifically... [have them remain stress free]
>Yes [Take some shirin for a vision quest, and party like it’s you last time here! Also, write a letter to the Unknowable One, to give some friendly advice, and Dad, to give him comfort and something to remember us by.]
One last shirin-induced vision-quest, my dudes- just like old times!
>>
[Sorry anons, but I have awful heat exhaustion. I'll try to get a post out tonight if I can stop feeling so ill. Otherwise, tomorrow!]
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>>6099021
Take your time.
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>>6099021
take care, OP
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>>6098566
>>6098499
>>6098486
>>6098433
>>6098420
>>6098407
>>6098401
There’s a deeper meaning to this musing, of course, which goes beyond these two strange, antlered lapines. If they are both ‘true’ jackalopes, it means that the nature of a being—any being—is ever in flux and at the mercy of magic. It means that the spellcraft you have created and combined to make them as they are has truly changed them on a fundamental level—has rewritten their own personal reality.

It means that you really, genuinely, are not an elf anymore. It means Veigar is just as much ‘Tips’ as you are—maybe more, with your spoon-shaped human ears, compared to his jagged-edged goblinoid flaps—and that Zith-Zi, Izirina, and Costella are all fundamentally not the same people they once were, before you met them and made their own alterations.

Combined with what you understand of the ‘self’, that the TRUE self is one’s choices, that when you modify a person you strip them of their history—of the choices they and others made that resulted in the person they are. It means that the original is dead, and you have—in effect—created them anew, in your image.

“…No.”

Muffins looks up at your quiet word, or at least his vigilant snake-head does; his body still rests against your back, lion rumbling happily as the sheep-head grazes. The jackalopes—True and False—do not. Rather, they remain half-sprawled across you, relaxed and at peace. They are blissfully ignorant of such philosophical conundrums. They don’t fall for the trap of sapience, of one’s self trying to understand oneself, from the inside and outside at once. You’re not so ‘lucky’, but even so, you instinctively reject this hypothesis you toy with.

You are Ezreal Mious, as well as Ezreal Van Houtzmann. You were BORN Ezreal Mious, and you have no undone all that you were, all that you ARE, by giving up your ears’ shape or your feytouched spirit. Your choices, and your parents’ choices, and everyone else’s choices which compounded to make you the half-elf you were a year ago, they have carried you forward past that point, to here and to now.

You and Izirina are still those kids who fell in love.

Costella, if smarter and taller and a little bit more magical, is still her parents’ dutiful daughter.

And Ayla, and Veigar? When they began to make separate, distinct choices from the originals, they became their own entities. You are the TRUE Tips, and you always will be.

“You’re the original,” you say aloud, as you pat the head of the jackalope born—the one with seasonal fur patterns, and without hooves.

“And you… You’re just as cute,” you say, with a laugh, when the other jackalope—the artificial one, the ‘false’ one—pushes up against you hand, eager to be petted as well. “You’re not really a jackalope, but you’re YOU, and that’s just as good. It’s just different.”
>>
>>6099125
Neither of them understands you, of course. You won’t burden them with that, either. They’re here now, and they're fuzzy and soft, and maybe that's all that matters: that they're fine as they are, whatever they are, and so too are you.





Your cozy moment of contemplation couldn’t’ last forever, unfortunately. You’ve been putting it off for some time now, but the deadline of your departure approaches. Izirina recognizes your intent without words when she sees you and Muffins coming back down the Hill, after a few words of gratitude and farewell for the Spirit of the Old Maple and a final hug for your first two lessons in the hidden nature of this world.

(Well, not FINAL final. You’ll be back! And fey-touched as they are… Surely they’ll be there, too?)

“You’re ready to see Mother, then?”

“I am,” you sigh.

Your relationship with the elder Henler—the ‘True Henzler’, you suppose, since Izirina is adopted—is a complicated one. The old Archmage is a powerful, brilliant, and eminently respectable woman. Unfortunately, not everything she DOES is respectable. You cannot abide how she has treated Izirina, for instance. The effect her perfectionism and emotional alienation has had on the first love of your life has taken the two of you—three of you, rather—the better part of YEARS to undo. And what she inflicted upon Carazzi, all out of antagonism to her demonic forebear…

But then again, Archmagus Theresa Henzler is also your master. She is the giant upon whose shoulders you stood, and her work formed the foundation for your own chimerical studies. Without her tutelage and resources, you’d never have achieved all that you have. Without her finances, your burgeoning family would flounder, and the Hill’s community would surely suffer.

And in raising Izzy and giving her the use of her name, she DID provide her something she wouldn’t’ have had otherwise. IN not destroying Carazzi, she DID keep your trust against her own judgement.

“<Dimension Door>.”

Izirina casts the spell, and together you stride through, emerging in the Initiate’s Village, before the mighty ivory-white spire of the tallest single structure in Hawksong, and the seat of this world’s finest centre of magical learning, arguably even more so than Iterngreyn’s Living Library. You smile a little to see it again after so long. The Hawksong Mages’ Tower isn’t HOME per se, but it is a site of much nostalgia for you. This was where you started your journey. It’s fitting to bid it farewell, before you go away once again, and you know you’ll feel the same way when next you see it.
>>
>>6099126
Izzy and yourself ascend the spiral staircase to the high office of the Archmage. When you reach the portal, though (that is to say, the door, not another LITERAL portal, which isn’t usually possible in such a place due to the ancient and ell-kept wards), you take a moment to catch your breaths.

“Do you think Living Alchemy could make us more athletic?” Izzy asks.

“<Wildshape> would have done the trick,” you admit. “I’m sure there’s other ways, too… Hm.”

“Another project, for when you get back?” she suggests with a smile.

“Something to think about in jail, at least,” you acknowledge mirthlessly.

You immediately regret the snarky aside, seeing Izirina’s face fall again, and give her hand a squeeze.

Together, you approach the great doors to the Archmage’s office. You begin to wonder if she is actually in there, given what Izirina told you of her mother’s flagging health and tendency to stay in her sleeping quarters. Maybe you should have made an appointment Before you can turn back, though, there is a quiet sound like a breaking glass, or a small bell’s tinkling, and a hiss of scraping wood and stone, and the door opens a crack. Evidently, she’s there, and she’s noticed your lingering upon the threshold.

You give Izzy’s hand another squeeze, and…
>You enter together
>You enter without Izzy, for you have things to say to your Master, alone

What words do you have for the woman who helped make you the man you are today, and whom you call Master?
>You’re hear to call her out—to confront her and what she’s done, and to demand she do better by her daughter… And granddaughter.
>You’re here to thank her, for all she’s done, and to request that she continue to watch over and take care of your friends and family .
>You’re here to inquire after her health, and to see if you can help set right whatever has gone wrong.
>You have a question that’s been eating at you: how old is she, really, and how has she survived so long?
>This is just an update, to let her know you’ll be gone for a while. Get in, get out. No small-talk.
>Write-in
>>
>>6099127
>>You enter together
>You’re here to thank her, for all she’s done, and to request that she continue to watch over and take care of your friends and family .
>You’re here to inquire after her health, and to see if you can help set right whatever has gone wrong.
>>
>>6099127
>You enter together
>You’re here to thank her, for all she’s done, and to request that she continue to watch over and take care of your friends and family .
>You’re here to inquire after her health, and to see if you can help set right whatever has gone wrong.
>let her know you’ll be gone for a while.
>>
>>6099149
Am >>6098420
>>
>>6099127
>You enter together

>You’re here to thank her, for all she’s done, and to request that she continue to watch over and take care of your friends and family .
>You’re here to inquire after her health, and to see if you can help set right whatever has gone wrong.
>>
>>6099127
>You have a question that’s been eating at you: how old is she, really, and how has she survived so long?
>>
[Alright, feeling better but may yet be delayed. I have a friend winging by to hang out unexpectedly.]
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>>6099486
>>6099463
>>6099149
>>6099146
Hand-in-hand, you and your master’s daughter enter her office. With a gesture and a murmured incantation, Izirina shut the door behind her in much the same way the Archmage would have. You, meanwhile, greet the woman herself.

“Master,” you acknowledge, with a small bow of your head.

“Mious. Or Van Houtzmann. Whichever it is, today.” The Archmage’s voice, never as young as her lineless face, has a wispy rasp to it that startles you. “You rather look the part of a ‘Van Houtzmann’ more than a ‘Mious’ today. What have you done to yourself, Apprentice?”

You could have asked her much the same thing, and you almost say so. Her face, yes, is still unblemished and youthful. But the rest of her? Even in her characteristic oversized robes, hiding so much of her, you can tell there is something wrong. Her hair is as wispy as her voice. She sits at her desk, straight-backed and stiff, and has every appearance of strength… But then again, you don’t actually recall her office ever HAVING a seat for her before, or her using it if it had one. She was always more inclined to stand, and to hover about by some unknown mechanism, be it a secret spell or magical device. A quick scan with your sorcerous sixth sense is sufficient to secure your suspicion: her aura is weak and ‘uneven’, and a great deal of it is focused upon several Life Magic spells focused upon alleviating ailments, mending injury, and reducing pain.

“I heard you were unwell,” you say.

“Did you now?” the Archmage asks, with a subtle-but-piercing glare at her daughter.

Izzy flinches, and grips your hand tighter. The Archmage’s eyes settle upon this gesture, and register… Not displeasure, or disgust, but something rather like confusion or exasperation. Izirina extracts her fingers from yours, self-conscious to judge by the small flush of her face, though her mother makes no comment one way or the other.

“It is true, of course,” Archmage Theresa Henzler acknowledges, cold and clinical as ever. “My alchemy, my practiced methods of decades, have finally failed. Even all my magic, all my knowledge, cannot cure cancer.”

“Cancer?” you whisper.

You look towards Izirina, who casts her gaze down. She isn’t surprised, and so she must have known. Why didn’t she say? You don’t ask now—she’s shaking like a leaf, and you have more immediate concerns.

“What kind?”

The Archmage laughs, or you think it is a laugh—it might well be a cough.

“Many kinds, boy… Many. It would be easier to list the major organs which aren’t at risk. The sickness is in the blood, in the bone, and from there, there was no way to isolate it and excise it as I have in the past.”

“You’ve had cancer before?”

(Has she had it this whole time?)

“For over one hundred years, yes,” she acknowledges blithely. “Now and again. A small thing, to a Chimericist of my calibre.”
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>>6099908
You suppose it might well be… But she’s plainly hit her limit. Her spellcraft cannot compensate for the vengeance of her resurgent affliction.

“Go on, then. Ask.”

“H-huh?” you stammer, startled out of your troubled thoughts.

“Ask,” repeats Archmage Henzler. “You only come to see me when you require something of me. Typical, but to be expected. And you’ve brought the girl, so it’s something related to the two of you. Funding for another secretive expedition, maybe?”

“No,” Izzy says, shaking her head. “Mother—”

“That land reserve of yours, then?” the Archmage. “Don’t tell me you’ve already spent the coin you were provided?”

“Not ALL of it,” you say, a little defensively.

“Then what do you want?” the Archmage asks , testily. “I have work to attend to, and no time to waste extracting your infantile little secrets in this guessing game… No time at all.”

You wince at the sadness and anger her voice, at the implication. For all your complicated feelinsg about the woman, your heart hurts to see her in such a state… Especially with Izirina here, hardly able to look at the woman she calls ‘Mother’. It seems unreal, almost a shameful thing for such a great mage to be so diminished.

“Speak, Apprentice!”

“I’m here to thank you!”

The Archmage’s own shouted order is met by your own voice, louder than you intended it to be. You both stare at one another, a little shocked.

“What was that?”

“I wanted to thank you, for everything that you’ve done for me… For both of us.” You take Izirina Henzler’s hand again in yours, as you meet the eyes of her mother, and your master. “Without you, and your school, I never would have come as far as I’ve come, and achieved all that I’ve achieved. Neitehr fo us would have.”

Izirina fidgets, but doesn’t pull her hand away. Under the Archmage’s gaze, she quails, but nods. The Archmage’s forehead creases, ever so slightly, and then a realization seems to dawn.

“A farewell, is it?”

You’re taken aback by your master’s insight. How much does she already know, you wonder?

“You’re saying a final goodbye,” she continues, bitterly. “To the dying old witch.”

(…Oh)
>>
>>6099909
“No, that’s… That’s not it at all,” you reply. “I was actually hoping that I could ask you to continue to look after everyone… To watch over my friends, and family, and help Izirina to advance our research in my absence.”

This catches Archmage Henzler off-guard. She says nothing, simply staring at you with the expectation that you will explain yourself. You consider doing so, but as much as you respect her, your master is not entitled to every detail of your private life. Your ‘trip’ to the Sylvan Realms is a matter between Sylvanfolk, and not really any of her business.

“I’m going away for a while,” you say. “personal business.”

“Make sure you return in time for the expedition to the tomb of the first archmage—or whatever that structure may be.” Archmage Henzler’s reply is curt, unbothered, and surprisingly incurious as to your particulars, and she waves a sleeve at you, a skeleton-thin finger peaking out. “I don’t’ expect I’ll have much more time to ‘watch over’ anyone. Really, it’s quite a selfish request to make of someone in my circumstances, don’t you think so, Apprentice? To waste away some of what time remains to complete my works on… PERSONAL attachments? That WAS always your problem though… Your weakness, your softness, your tendency to entanglement. Imagine what you—the TWO of you—could have accomplished already, fi only you had focused on research, on MAGIC!... On what REALLY matters.”

The Archmage’s eyes look so tired, so resigned, that you can’t even bring yourself to argue with her. Now isn’t the time. As she herself has said, you must focus on what matters most, here and now.

“What if we could find a way to give you MORE time?”

You were expecting surprise, maybe even gratitude. That was foolish of you, you now realize. Izirina looks up at you, hopeful. Her mother merely appears (if indeed you can parse that rigid expression of hers accurately) faintly annoyed.

“I am the foremost Chimericist and Life Mage that the human race has ever produced, BOY,” she states, plainly and proudly. “If there were a way to preserve my life with such spells, I would have done so. Even your <Clone> sell can only replicated the poisoned organs I have now… And even <Monstrous Regeneration> won’t remove the creeping cancer from my marrow.”

“What about means beyond Living Alchemy?” you ask.
>>
>>6099910
“Necromancy? Demonology?” the Archmage’s voice is sneering, dismissive. “You ought to know better. Those arts are for fiends, fools, and creatures of darkness.”

You’re surprised that she hasn’t pieced together what you’re ACTUALLY implying, what you’re considering. Is her agedness, her ailment, affecting her mind? Or maybe her frustration at her failing body, and her flagging magic, has given her tunnel-vision and made her myopic to solutions outside her discipline? Maybe a woman such as she, so proudly and fierce and for decades or centuries utterly independent, is not sued to thinking in terms of divine assistance?

You open your mouth, and say…
>“What about Feycraft?”
With <Clone>, the <Rite of Attunement>, and your advanced understanding of the nature of the soul, you could create a whole new body for the Archmage, and shift her soul into it as you had with Ayla… Something which could give the Archmage a fresh lease on life. Doing so would mean sharing sacred secrets of your mother’s people and your gods with this aggressively atheistic outsider, whose morals are not exactly beyond reproach.

>“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
She has lived a long life. Maybe it is time she passed? Your own father ahs grown old, and for all that you extended his life and improved his health, you haven’t seen fit to chase his immortality. Your people—both Human and Elf—teach that death is a part of life, and that to chase immortality is folly… A folly that attracts the attention of the Lord of Endings, the God of Death.

>Write-in
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>>6099911
>“What about Feycraft?”
man it'd be interesting to see if this is what makes Henzler at least recognise the divine in the world. On an unrelated note, I've been picturing her as Lilith from TOH for the longest time.
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>>6100072
[Haven't watched it, but not a bad shout based on vibes. My mental image is somewhere between McGonnagal as played by Maggie Smith and a young Michelle Pfeiffer with no makeup on and perpetually agitated.]
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>>6099911
>“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Nah, die already bitch,
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>>6099911
>>Write-in: I can grant you a new lease on life using feycraft. In exchange you must resign from our post and Izirina is to become the new archmage and head of the tower.

Henzler's relationship with us has always been transactional. Everytime we have "required" something from her we have had to pay for it's price in full.

Arguably she has already been in charge for too long, and the tower is in need of new less immoral administration. Especially during the new era of high magic.
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>>6100257

This is me>>6098499
don't know why my ip changed.
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>>6100257
I get where you're coming from, anon, but does Izzy wanna take the mantle ?
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>>6100281
It would be better if we took the position ourselves. But we are likely going to be spending our epilogue rotting in an elven dungeon so that not possible for us.

I do think Izzy would want to become the next archmage. But i do not think she would ever have the resolve to challenge her.

But what's our alternative if we don't try to make izzy archmage? Either Henzler dies and some toady of her takes command of the tower, Or we save her and she rules the tower with an iron fist forever until someone kills her.
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>>6100072
>>6100256
>>6100257
[Three-way tie, eh? We'll leave this open for a bit, 15 hours at most.]
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>>6099911
>“You’re right. I’m sorry.
Let me know where your grave ends up so I can pee on it
>>
>>6100374
>>6100256
[While not sharing life-saving elf-secrets is of course an option, we're too late in the quest for Tips to go 'full schizo' and flop from grudging respect, and even thanking her, to that level of contempt. I hope you anons understand.]
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>>6100380
Yeah I know it's OOC, I'd have greentexted it if I wanted to actually say it to Henzler. My personal feelings only.
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>>6100257
Does she want that station, though?

And the last time we used clone and rite of attunement, Veigar was created. That’s not making a new body for the archmage — we might be splitting the archmage into two persons. I don’t know the fallout of such a thing.

>>6099911
>Write-in
Tell her a little more about the current circumstances. Tips has a summon to the sylvan realms court. Part of sylvan realm - hawksong peace agreement. Tell her we don’t know what his punishment will be. We don’t know if we’ll be back.
>>
>>6100072
[One for a ritual to extend her life...]

>>6100257
[One for the above, but with a bargain/caveat attached.]

>>6100256
>>6100374
[Two against sharing the secret.]

>>6100444
[This vote perplexes me because it doesn't really specify your stance on extending her life at the cost of again breaking sacred law and sharing Feycraft with Henzler Senior. Could you clarify? You may just be the tiebreaker.]
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>>6100573
I don’t want to prolong her life with feycraft because the last time we did it veigar happened. We might fuck up even more if we do it again.

And tell her a bit more of our circumstances - why we are going away. Sylvan realms calls us to court.
>>
>>6100573
>>6100583
It’s not that you hate the Archmage, even after her judgemental little monologue. You’re ANNOYED, but not annoyed enough to just let her DIE. That’s not it at all.

And yet… You still must.

You take no joy in the tense silence, nor in the apology that follows:

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Izirina looks at you wide-eyed, taking a sharp breath. You give her a look in return, equally pointed. The look on he face is one of confusion, even betrayal, and it breaks your heart to see it… Far more than the decision itself, if you’re being honest. But still, and to her credit, she says nothing. Instead, Izzy hastens from the room, head down, hands balled by her sides.

“Wait!” you shout, reaching out.

She doesn’t, and you lower your arm.

“The girl thinks you can save me,” the Archmage observes.

“I can’t.”

(You won’t.)

“I expected as much,” the Archmage sniffs. “if there was a way—a true way, a clean way, without the horrific implications of the Dark Arts, I’d already know it by now. I’d have employed it. I HAVE employed it, in fact—every means available, except those that compromised my humanity.”

You look at her critically. That pallid-pale, too-perfect face, now a thin and brittle shell over a decaying body beneath. You could do better, with the help of your holiest rites and deepest knowledge. But the truth is that you’re not sure that would be what’s best for the Tower, for the world, or for Izirina. More than that, you’re not sure it’s what’s best for the ARCHMAGE.

“I know a way to preserve a part of yourself, to keep it going. It wouldn’t be you, though, not really—not the True Theresa Henzler. It would be a copy, an imitation… A <Clone> with a split soul. There would be no continuity. The real you, the original you, would still die.”

The Archmage contemplates this quietly. After a while, you feel compelled to continue:

“My tarvels, they… Aren’t entirely voluntary>”

Your master’s expression doesn’t change.

“I’m going on trial for my use of rites and rituals like that, and, um, some other matters. Serious matters.”

“You’ve come to ask me to negotiate clemency on behalf o the Tower, then?”

You shake your head, reaffirming to she and to yourself: “This is something I’ve got to do. I just want to make sure you really will take of Izirina until I get back, or—”

“Or until I die?”

You close your mouth, pursing your lips a little as she bluntly finished the sentence you’d hoped to end with greater tact.
>>
>>6100603
The Archmage sighs, not exasperated or angry, or even disappointed. Theresa Henzler, as young as she looks, leans forward with the hunch of a very old, very tired woman, and the boniness of her body seems to protrude though overlarge robes which now droop and flatten out like a jellyfish on dry land.

“I suppose that is how it’s done, isn’t it?” she mutters. “Your ‘solution’ would only be a partial replica, carrying forth some of my knowledge and legacy? Well, I already have such a thing, for better or worse.”

“You do?” you ask, alarmed.

“It is called a ‘child’, Apprentice.”

You’re almost more shocked to hear THIS from such a woman.

“You can leave now,” she says. “You don’t need to remind me of the duties of a mother. I’ve performed them more than adequately for nearly thirty years now, and if this is not a long time relative to the span of my years of work and study, it has still been more than ample for a mind such as mine to master the particulars.”

You are VERY skeptical of THAT, but you deem it best not to say anything directly in reply. Instead, with a faint hope of good news emerging from bad, you ask: “Does that mean that you plan to make her the next Archmage?”

“I suspect I have less than five years left,” the Archmage says, simply and dispassionately. “nobody will accept a young girl of barely thirty as Archmagus of the Hawksong Tower. Even disregarding the circumstances of my own promotion to the position, which were abnormal, each of my predecessors laboured for decades and decades to ascend to this height.”

There would have been something to say for Izirina attaining such a prestigious position, of course. It would have meant financial security for your family in your absence, utterly unquestioned and secure, and a great deal for magical and legislative freedom for future research upon your return. You’d feel bad for thinking of such thing under these sad circumstances, but, well… It’s what your master would WANT you to think about, of course. She plainly has, also.

“She’ll have to do her time as head of a department, obviously, after some time as a Field Researcher and Mage proctor.” The Archmage pauses. “Between her skill and the nepotism of her adopted surname, this will prove no great obstacle to her. Anyone who challenges the validity of the latter will be easy defeated by the former, as I’d intended it.”

“Intended…?”

“Weren’t you listening?” the Archmage. “Why else bother with a child at ALL, fool?”
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>>6100604
You stare at her, unsure how to feel about this strange, strange human being. She’s not immoral, not amoral, and ABSOLUTELY not unprincipled, but even more than any Dragon King or so-called Unknowable Prince, this woman may be the most alien mortal you’ve ever met. She clearly cares, in her way, about Izirina and about her people and the world you share. You just don't understand how she can be so cold about it.

“She’ll need support, of course. Loyalist in the faculty,” she continues. “But I suspect you’ll have no problem providing such aid, at a later date.”

“O-obviously,” you stammer, a little taken off-guard.

“Good,” says the Archmage, and then repeats herself: “Then you can leave.”

This time, she punctuates it with a silent casting of <Gust of Wind>, and whatever spell controls the door, and hurls you out of it. You’re skilled enough by now to <summon> a small Air Elemental of your own to catch you and cushion the blow, but it’s still rather rude. Before you can right yourself and challenge the assault, however, the great door slams shut before your face.

You traverse the stairwell down to the main doorway on your own,. For a time you believe that Izirina ahs simply abandoned you here, to make your own way back to the land reserve. You’re deciding whether to be angry or worried when you spy her standing, arms wrapped around herself and hat pulled down low a block or so away from the Tower. She is polishing her glasses, something she only does in public after she’s been crying.

“Izzy…”

“Not now,” she snaps, and more gently (or dejectedly) she says: “Later. Just… Not now.”

You nod, and decide to feel grateful for the progress the two of you have made in trust and communication, because she extends her hand anyway and brings you back to the Hill. There, rejoined with Costella, you return to your tent and explain your rationale, and your master’s plans for the future.



It is only a couple days later when you are woken by Baajaban the Minotaur’s annoyed, bovine bellow. You emerge from your tent to see what is the matter, and find Cousin Adolfand the rest of the Hill’s official-unofficial security team staring—nay, glaring—at a small contingent of Elven Rangers, led by Commander Qinfir.

“Magus Mious Van Houtzmann,” he greets you, with a respectful bow and doffing of his cap.

“Back off, you knife-eared—”

“Addy.”

Your cousin’s husband turns his grimacing mustachioed face to you. You frown and shake your head, and he stands down. Baajaban, too, lowers his massive warclub, as you and a hastily-dressed Costella (and immediately, immaculately, magically-attired Izirina, thanks to <Summon Object> and her precise spellcraft) approach.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Any last words or instructions for your wife, your girlfriend, your cousin, your followers, or anyone else at the Hill?
>Write-in
>No
>>
>>6100606
>If I’m not back within a month put Muffins in charge
We Caligula now
>>
[I'll wait another three hours and then close the vote.]
>>
>>6100606
>No
>>
>>6100618
>>6100746
“Could we have a moment, please?”

Commander Qinfir nods again, turning around and beckoning to his elves to follow him. He gives you and the others your space, as you turn around and take in their faces.

“Right,” you joke “while I’m gone, Muffins is in charge.”

The chimera, pressed hard against your him, raises all three heads at the sound of your name. You scratch under one chin and rub the nape of another head. The snake simply observes, tongue stuck out, sensing something wrong. You smile, and memorize the moment. Veloz, faithful feytouched being from Holy Luna that he is, can come with you. But Muffins… Muffins must remain behind, with the women you love.

Speaking of those women, when you look up, you almost wish you hadn’t: your attempt at levity seems to have fallen upon deaf ears. Costella is rapidly fanning her face as if to stem the tide of tears. Iziirna’s emotions are locked down tight, but the tension is palpable—literally, since the air around you seems to grow charged with energetic potential, and the temperature has raised a few degrees. You take one of their hands in each of yours, speedily moving to soothe both of them at once.

“Hey, hey, we’ve been apart before!” you say.

“B-but this is, like… This is different!” Costella wails. “Who kn-knows how l-long you’ll be away?!”

“I’m sure you can visit, though…”

You cast a quick glance at Qinfir, but the Commander of the Woodland Rangers is facing the other way, communicating with his elderly, and you can glean no confirmation. No denial, either, though, which is something! You turn back and take a different tack. Scrambling for something (anything!) adequate to expound under the circumstances, you flounder. Finally, you reach deep, back into your memories and into the innermost circle of your own heart.

“Izzy, Costella… Do you remember when we were separated after the attunement?”

Both the girls exchange a look and nod.

“I was… I wasn’t sure what I wanted then, where I wanted my life to go… If I wanted this, what we have now. I didn’t know how amazing and beautiful our relationship would become… How much it would grow. But it DID grow, even so. Even when… When I tried to forget this place, feeling hurt and confused, I couldn’t.”

Costella frowns slightly, laying a hand on Izirina’s arm. The mage-woman flinches, but the memory of her past failings does at least dim the fiery anguish threatening to erupt at your imminent absence.

“You two were always in the back of my mind, always. I couldn’t forget about you even when I WANTED to. You were always with me, when we were apart. And I’ll always be with you no matter how far away I am, in space or time.”
>>
>>6100831
You step inwards, and so do they. You take one another in a threefold embrace.

“We’re bound together, not by magic, but by choice.”

“We are our choices,” whispers Izzy, a memory of your <Final Revelation>.

“We are,” you agree, “including this one. And all the ones we’ll make together, as a family, when I return.”

“Soon?” whimpers Costella, hopefully.

You cup your wife’s cheek and kiss her gently. You smile by way of non-answer. Sweet Costella holds your hand to her face with her own and accepts this reply.

Izirina, well… She doesn’t. Not quite. You can sense it in her. If you’re gone for even a few years, you know this will be incredibly hard on her—her mother may pass, Costella will be bearing a child with (probably?) your features, and she’ll be unavoidably on the fringes of the Fanucci family at best. But she is strong. She is capable. She has her magic….

“If they keep you too long, or if they treat you badly, I’m coming to get you,” Izzy says, and though her voice quavers, it broaches no argument.

…And, you suppose, she has her own means of coping.

“Ask first,” you plead.

Izzy nods, grudgingly. Even then, she resists when you release your hand, tugging first at your fingers and then at your sleeve. Only kissing her breaks this spell of anxiety and frees you from her grasp.

You look at them once more, give Muffins a final pat, and wave farewell to the others who have assembled to see you off, and then you force yourself to turn away.

“Ready,” you tell the Ranger Commander.

He gives you a solemn and sympathetic nod, and signals the rest of the Rangers. You follow after them as they depart the land reserve, headed north and east. Veloz buzzes along beside you, a faithful sentry.

“So, where’s the carriage?” you ask after you’ve been walking a while. “You must have parked it a ways away.”

“Master Magus,” the ranger Commander replies, with a touch of amusement, “have you forgotten our ways so completely? There are no ‘carriages’ in the Sylvan Realms.”

“Okay, well, where are the horses, then? Or… Oh. Oh no.”
>>
>>6100832
You’d assumed that for such a lengthy journey, there would be a horse or deer or SOME sort of riding animal. But, of course, there is not. The Sylvan Elves yoke no animals to serve as beasts of burden. Those whose animal companions are sufficiently large might ride them, but not every elf keeps such a personal companion, and of course—OBVIOUSLY—they would not ask them to abandon their beloved glades and woodlands for the simple, nonconfrontational escorting of a willing prisoner.

Which is to say: “We’re walking the whole way, aren’t we?”

The ranger Commander nods. You groan, and curse your scholar’s constitution. Even with the slight increase in height and muscle from your fully-human form, you’ve given up elven grace and the easy, sweat-free temperature regulation of the fair folk. This is going to be a LONG trip, or at least your muscles are going to feel that way about it.

How do you travel?
>On foot, like the elves
>Summon up an elemental steed to save yourself the exhaustion of travel
>Write-in

Do you do anything along the way?
>Glean the prevailing opinion of you, and your actions, among the Sylvan rank-and-file
>Ingratiate yourself to Commander Qinfir, who is after all one of the Elders who will be presiding over your trial
>Nothing [skips ahead]
[Choose one, or write-in something else if you'd prefer to ask something else or pursue another angle]

>>6096782
Thanks for this, anon.
>>
>>6100836
>On foot, like the elves
When we get back we'll impress Izzy by walking all the way up the Mages Tower easily.

>Glean the prevailing opinion of you, and your actions, among the Sylvan rank-and-file
>>
>>6100836
>On foot, like the elves
welp, time to build our muscles.

>Glean the prevailing opinion of you, and your actions, among the Sylvan rank-and-file
>>
>>6100836
>On foot, like the elves

>Glean the prevailing opinion of you, and your actions, among the Sylvan rank-and-file

I assume among the rank and file is pretty bad. But I’m curious.
>>
>>6100872
>>6100897
>>6100915
You resign yourself to your fate. While the Sylvanfolk have never has been as adamantly against extraplanar summoning as, say, the Neme-Ashurati, it’s still a foreign magic to them. With your ears already round, and given the reputation you’re sure you’ve accrued… Well, better to not rock the proverbial boat.

No, instead you just lag behind, puffing and wheezing while the rest of your contingent seems completely unbothered by the trek. More than once, the whole column of armed-and-armoured elves stops to wait for you. Commander Qinfir never registers any impatience, but you hear and see it from some of the Woodland Rangers under his command.

“Sorry,” you say, though you’re more embarrassed than actually apologetic.

You are at one such stop when you speak up, nursing a leafwoven water-skin to recoup your lost fluids.

“It’s fine,” says one of the Rangers, with a certain among of smugness. “It’s good to know if you attempt another escape, you’ll be easy to catch.”

“I have no intention to do so, cousin,” you say with a small smile. “I’m coming with you of my own volition.”

“I’d be careful,” growls another. “Maybe that’s why he ‘disappeared’ that other team—he couldn’t outrun them, so he did Gods-know-what to them, instead. Maybe he’s planning to do the same to us.”

You choke a little on the water you’re drinking, pinching the nozzle shut and folding it over to stop that water which you couldn’t yet drink from escaping; you’ll need it, assuming no embittered elven defender stabs you first. Though… The phrasing here is interesting. ‘Disappeared’? ‘Gods-know what’? So it isn’t common knowledge what happened last winter, then. Assumptions have obviously been made, though… And not incorrect ones.

“I hear you made an escape with the Unseelie, when you stole away a monster for your master to work on,” says the angrier of the two Rangers.

“Easy now, Ellamin. The Commander said not to cause any trouble with the captive,” says the first who spoke up—the one who gave you the waterskin to drink from, and to whom you now return it.

“Or what?” the other elf scoffs. “The Archmage will sic more of her ‘chimeras’ on us?”

“I’m confused,” you admit. “What are you talking about?”

“The monster you came to steal back, after it slaughtered our sacred deer, and attacked our people!” the one called ‘Ellamin’ says, sounding offended at your ignorance of what he plainly takes to be an obvious fact.

(Does he mean… The Prince of Bloodrise? Is that what those not ‘in-the-know’ believe the Unknowable One to be: a product of Tower chimericism?)

“That’s what you people do, right? Take natural creatures, torturously recombine them into living weapons, and turn them against us?”

“Wh-what?” you balk. “No, I never… No!”
>>
>>6100955
“…Come now,” says the more polite of the two elven warriors, frowning a little at his own engagement with this ‘trouble’. “The gryphons are common knowledge, and even elves have heard of the ‘owlbears’ that guard the Tower’s secrets.”

(Well, that much is true… And in fact, you’ve considered some elementally-infused, cloned creatures of your own, to guard Old Maple Hill, though you never truly had time to implement the idea.)

“I’m telling you, I don’t know why we’re treating this… PERSON… with such gentleness,” spits Ranger Ellamin.

“All Sylvanfolk deserve fair council, trial, and the chance to confess their sins,” says the other, more understanding (maybe?) Woodland Ranger.

“Oh come off it, Iarrel!” sighs Ellamin, his eyes still on you. “look at him. He’s no Sylvan. No elf at all. He’s some nature-abusing, elf-murdering human who abandoned his own mother’s blood to chase gold and silver like all the rest of his selfish, short-lived kind.”

“Ellamin, that’s enough.”

Ellamin huffs haughtily, still fuming. Ranger Iarrel looks at you, almost as if he wants to apologize… But he doesn’t Rather, he seems to scrutinize you, to see if the accusations have sparked anything in you: guilt, remorse, or maybe even the urge to make good on some planned escape.

Is this how all the rank-and-file Rangers think of you? All the regular folk of your homeland? It pains you think so, though you admit you’d been wondering (and dreading) this very sort of clarification. Now that you’ve heard it from their own mouths, though, it’s clear that at least some of what they’ve been told (or whispered among themselves) if false, or at least only a partial truth.

But what to do about it?
>Let them believe what they will—their opinion isn’t important, only that of The Council of Elders
>Set the record straight—tell them the whole truth, including parts good, bad, and ugly
>Attempt to cast yourself in a better light, correcting their misapprehensions about your alleged unelfish behaviour… But leave out the bit about what happened last winter
>Lie, for the greater good—paint yourself, your master, Izirina, and Hawksong’s humans in as favourable a light as possible
>Call out the hypocrisy and errors on THEIR side, also, and make it clear that they have no right to be casting such harsh judgement upon you
>Write-in
>>
>>6100956
>Set the record straight—tell them the whole truth, including parts good, bad, and ugly

Ugh
>He’s no Sylvan. No elf at all. He’s some nature-abusing, elf-murdering human who abandoned his own mother’s blood to chase gold and silver like all the rest of his selfish, short-lived kind.”
tfw we have abused nature, have murdered elves, are human, have abandoned our mother's blood, have chased gold and silver, are selfish and short lived

He's right :(

At least we can say the Mages Tower has never set the gryphons and owlbears upon innocent elves (that we know of)
>>
>>6100956
>Set the record straight—tell them the whole truth, including parts good, bad, and ugly

Are we even allowed to do this? Can we ask the commander whether anything is off limit to talk about first?
>>
>>6100956
>Let them believe what they will—their opinion isn’t important, only that of The Council of Elders
dunno about spilling the beans to the general population yet.
>>6100964
>tfw we have abused nature, have murdered elves, are human, have abandoned our mother's blood, have chased gold and silver, are selfish and short lived
>He's right :(
he's very wrong, specially about the chasing gold & silver part
>>
>>6100980
>he's very wrong, specially about the chasing gold & silver part
Did we not go to Henzler to beg for money on multiple occasions? Plan how to profit off goods produced in Maple Hill? Get in a dispute with an association of traders over selling said goods? Do those not count as chasing gold and silver to you? They do to me.
>>
>>6100956
> He’s no Sylvan. No elf at all. He’s some nature-abusing, elf-murdering human who abandoned his own mother’s blood to chase gold and silver like all the rest of his selfish, short-lived kind.”
Niggas just be making shit up i guess
I thought Qinfir was there on the peace treaty table? Also didn’t he see us when Tips was still an elf?

>Let them believe what they will—their opinion isn’t important, only that of The Council of Elders
>>
>>6100956
>Let them believe what they will—their opinion isn’t important, only that of The Council of Elders

Setting the record straight could simply worse things. the higher elven council knows the full and the still want to arrest and prosecute us. I dont know why these ranger would be more sympathetic to our motives.
>>
>>6101050
>I thought Qinfir was there on the peace treaty table? Also didn’t he see us when Tips was still an elf?
[You are talking with two regular Rangers, not their centuries-old Commander. This is your first time that you can recall meeting either of them; neither were among those presumably higher-ranked members who were at the table. They also know you were once half-elf, but clearly have a low opinion of your other half, and one of them seems to view your current status as evidence that you are a traitor to your birth-nation and race, in light of the rumours swirling about your other activities. The elven rumour-mill seems to be that The Unknowable Prince was some Tower experiment that you snatched back for your boss; that you are selling out your people's secrets and security to Hawksong for money and acceptance among humans; and that you are a probable murderer.]
>>
>>6101490
>that you are selling out your people's secrets and security to Hawksong for money and acceptance among humans; and that you are a probable murderer.

That brings up a question, what exactly do these elves consider "their" secrets? We seen the elves make this accusation multiple times.

But the only spells we were directly taught in the sylvan realm and the moon. Were wildshape, imp aetheral form and sanctuary.

The rest we learned either though our own independent studies and efforts or from other fey that aren't apart the sylvan realms.

Do the elves consider ALL feycraft to be their sole domain and property?
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>>6100964
>>6100970
>>6100980
>>6101050
>>6101051
[I'm going to begin writing, and lock the vote. I'm expecting a visit, though, so the actual completion and posting may be delayed.]
>>
>>6101592
>the only spells we were directly taught in the sylvan realm and the moon. Were wildshape, imp aetheral form and sanctuary.
[Also the Rite of Attunement and Faerie Fire, and Daylight though the Neme.Tutelage in the nature of souls and spirits, and of divination, enabled you to create Greater Disjunction and Final Revelation, too.]

>Do the elves consider ALL feycraft to be their sole domain and property?
[Essentially, yes. The fey (that is, fairies, elves, and their associated deities and spirits) do not share such secrets freely with outsiders.]
>>
>>6101620

The sliver of truth in Ellamin’s make the inaccuracies, half-truths, and outright fabrications all the harder to stomach. It is an incredible internal struggle to bite back the reply which threatens to erupt forth: the whole, unvarnished truth of how much good you’ve done for this world. Far from enriching yourself or betraying your people, everything—EVERYTHING-you’ve done has been for the betterment of the world. What gold and silver you’ve ‘caused’ has been EARNED, and NONE of it has come from the selling of Feycraft. What divine arcana you’ve shared has been solely to heal and make whole those people who needed it, to defend yourself and those you care about,; the strides you’ve made as a Tower Magus have been on the back of your own mastery of HUMAN magic, and the recovery of a HUMAN Archmage’s ancient artefacts!

But you DO bite that back. You don’t say any of that, in fact. You pursue your lips, take a deep breath through your nose, and let it go. In the end, what the elven populace believes about you doesn’t matter. Well, it DOES matte—it wounds your pride and spoils your hopes of one day being welcomed back into the Sylvan fold by the common everyelf anytime soon...

But it doesn’t hurt your upcoming legal case.

If the average Ranger believes you a traitor to race and to nation, the Ranger COMMANDER knows the full truth—the good, the bad, and the ugly of it. He knows you averted a war, and negotiated a generation of peace. If he and the Council of Elders in Iternagreyn saw fit to keep secrets,they must have their reasons. It’s THEIR opinion that will determine how soon you see your son or daughter, and their mothers.

Even so, the look of disappointment from Iarrel, and hatred from Ellamin, still sting.

“You were wise to hold your tongue,” Ranger Commander Qinfir confirms, when you speak with him in private when next your party makes camp.

“Why, though?” you press. “Why is it that so much bullsh—that so many falsehodos have been allowed to spread?”

“Master Magus,” he addresses you softly, “which parts of what they say are true?”

You freeze, stammering a little as you scramble to answer in the least incriminating way possible. Suddenly, you feel as if you trial has already begun. To his credit Commander Qinfir seems to recognize he’s put you on the spot, and raises a hand to stem the tide of adlibbed defences before they start.

“As it stands, the elves who have heard your tale regard you as a young half-elf who, pursuing fortune and the acceptance of your father’s people and the mages of Hawksong, bargained with Unseelie to extract a human-made living weapon. They believe you shed your elven blood because you had no love for elves, and that the defence of Dappulyet—which many an elf has ALSO heard of—was pure opportunism.”

“Which is all false!”

"But what is true?"

You regard the elder elf warily now.
>>
>>6101716
“The TRUTH,” Qinfir continues, “is that the secrets you carried from here—and from Holy Luna, where few know you stayed—were far more numerous and more powerful than even I know, and that the Divine Princess Miannie saw fit to remove your elven blood.. As punishment, I must assume, and perhaps a means to avert Minasien Nenaias’ prophecy.”

You seethe a little at the subtle (but important!) inaccuracy of this assumption, but you remain muted. There is truth enough, and you haven’t yet decided how much to share. How much can you trust this elfman, your oh-so-understanding JAILER?

“The TRUTH is that when you returned to our lands, it was not to retrieve a monster made by Archmagus Henzler, but the son of a Dragon King. As it stands his existence is only rumour to most elves in our lands—a scary story, which a great many do not even believe. None outside of the Council and a trustworthy few know how real he is, let alone the sorts of… Creatures… Whom he calls kin.”

The Ranger Commander’s deep distaste for all things Dark and Draconic seeps into his tone, and briefly contorts his expression. He controls himself, though, as you do—as you both must.

“I had good reasons,” you say finally, when you’re sure he’s done, and understand he expects a response. “For those things which I DID do.”

“Reasons I’m certain will come to light when we reach Iternagreyn,” he acknowledges, without agreeing. “But what reason, good or bad, could calm the elven people, if they knew the truth of what was done?”

You meet his grey eyes with your own, and simply nod.

He smiles a cold smile, and stands, brushing off his breaches.

“The sun is setting,” he says. “It’s time we retire.”

And so the elves do. You—one half-blooded, now wholly human in your biology and in spirit, find that even with the setting the sun, you cannot sleep.
>>
>>6101717


It is week of constant daytime travel, broken up by such nightly rest-stops as well as your own frequent short breaks for sake of stamina, before your each the great tree-bounded trail into the dense Sylvanwood which is known as the Sylvan Gate. You take some measure of satisfaction in seeing that it is no longer barricaded against entry, though the heavy presence of Woodland Rangers and the lack of humans and beastmen passing from East to West and back again attests to the continued tension.

The tensions is not all grand-scale and abstract, either. The shocked and appalled looks you register from those who likewise register YOU reminds you of the cost of your silence and secrecy, whatever its boons. You’ve always considered yourself a champion of truth. You are seeker of esoteric knowledge, and one who shares such things—eyes, even secret and sacred things—for the good of the world and its people. The conversation with the commander gives you pause to consider this, though, just as you were forced to contend with how much of your magic to share with Izirina, and whether to tell the truth of the Dragon King and the Prince Consort.

Are some secrets best kept from the world, known only be a select few, forever?
>Yes
>No
>Write-in

Of the Council of Elders, those elfmen and elfmaids and wiuligar who shall soon determine your destiny, what will you share with them?
>You will tell them each and every act, and justify yourself in full—you wish things had gone otherwise, but you do not believe you made any wrong choices, based on what you knew at the time
>You will keep some secrets from them—those they do not need, or deserve, to know [which information do you keep secret?]
>You will tell them nothing they do not already know, and let them suspect what they will—and judge you as they must
>Write-in
>>
>>6101721
>Yes

>You will tell them each and every act, and justify yourself in full—you wish things had gone otherwise, but you do not believe you made any wrong choices, based on what you knew at the time
>>
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>>6101721
>Yes
Perennialism gang rise up.

>You will tell them each and every act, and justify yourself in full—you wish things had gone otherwise, but you do not believe you made any wrong choices, based on what you knew at the time
no need in hiding from them
>>
>>6101721
>Yes
Obviously the public doesn’t need to know about hawksong’s heir and theral's true nature. That would complicate things unnecessarily.

As for the council

Firstly, the theft of the prince:
No, it was not a theft. We were given jurisdiction lawfully by the death cult. Our ‘escape’ occured after nenaias tried to kill izzy and tips — during the fight, we did everything in our power to prevent injury from ourselves while keeping him alive, the notion, he did not subscribe to, as his conjured spriggan could have easily killed us.

In fear of our life, we escaped and was forced by the unseelie to construct a star.

Second is the profiteering of knowledge:

(I think this >>6101716 inner monologue covers it pretty well but I’ll elaborate anyways.)
we did not sell the moonberries nor taught outsiders of the knowledge which we gained from the moon - the aetherial form. Same applies for sand-swimming and the goblin waste elves. The rod and chest was given to the archmage for study after it was discovered to be a historical relic.

Thirdly, chiefly, the ranger & priest’s disappearance:

We intended to take back Izzy through using greater disjunction on the priest and then escaping, but during the affray the other rangers woke up. Izzy summoned a dragon-sized ice elemental - which did not kill them right away. After seeing the dragon, the rangers still proceeded to approach her with weapons. Tips at the time has no magic left. We did not stop her from using the dragon to defend herself. The dragon proceeded to breathe on them so thoroughly there were no traces of them left.

We’re still telling truth, we’re just framing it in a less hostile light. Especially the killing the rangers bit. Say we let her kill them. Emphasis on our non-lethality as our go-to for everything, and especially with nenaias.

I’m assuming this falls under
>You will keep some secrets from them—those they do not need, or deserve, to know [which information do you keep secret?]
>>
>>6101958
Oh also mention the meeting with the moon princess and how we talked her into removing our heritage after she posed us that question of who we are and aren’t.
>>
>>6101958
>We’re still telling truth, we’re just framing it in a less hostile light. Especially the killing the rangers bit. Say we let her kill them. Emphasis on our non-lethality as our go-to for everything, and especially with nenaias.
That's not the truth though, we directly ordered Izzy to kill the ranger squad. I'd rather not try to tell this or any of the other lies you suggested, they probably will have a zone of truth spell or some equivalent.
>>
>>6101792
>>6101906
>>6101958
You are a champion of truth, as you are of life and of Light… But just as with those other two aspects, you are not so youthful or naïve as to believe that this principle should be unwavering in all contexts. You’re no zealot, and no fool. Sometimes, even a lover of life must kill. Sometimes, even the Bonum Chaoticum are wrong. And sometimes… Sometimes, secrets should remain such, at least from the ignorant and fearful many. Isn’t that why you cast the <Final Revelation>? To keep those mysteries most sacred to yourself secret, for the sake of a better future?

But just as well, you know that there are some you should not—nay probably CANNOT—keep secrets from… And the Council are principal among those.

The journey to Iternagreyn takes you deeper into the heart of the Sylvanwood, your final steps haunted by the whispers of leaves and the soft murmurs of ancient trees—as if the wood itself is whispering surreptitiously about your ignoble return. The living architecture of the defacto elven capitol begins to unfurl before you, a breathtaking sight that never fails to stir your spirit—even now, with the ‘elfin’ aspect stripped away by magic.

(Once a Sylvan, always a Sylvan, you suppose…)

Homes and halls are woven seamlessly from branches and vines, creating structures that breathe with a life of their own. The city is lush and green, bursting with flora arranged in artistically chaotic bursts of color and greenery. The air is thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the freshness of the undergrowth, making it almost mystical as you breathe it in. Green-tinted lanterns, suffused with an ethereal glow, line the pathways and illuminate the verdant tapestry of the city, casting a serene jade light that ought to calm even the most troubled heart.

Yours, though, only beats faster.

You approach the council chamber, a masterpiece of elven craftsmanship and magic. Formed by a lattice of living branches, the structure resembles an ornate bird's nest, its ceiling adorned with stained glass that captures and transforms sunlight into a dazzling array of colors that dance upon the chamber floor. Despite the beauty, the golden-cuirassed guards who flank you as you enter glower with thinly veiled hostility. You can feel their eyes boring into your back, no doubt recalling your last visit and the ignominious escape that left one of their number injured by your best friend.

(In a worthy, respectable duel, though! Well, sort of…)

The tension is palpable as you step through the doorway into the open council chamber, a place where judgments are rendered and destinies decided. The gravity of the situation weighs heavily upon you, each step forward feeling more final than the last.
>>
>>6102231
Ancient but undeniably beautiful, the elves who await you seem physically unaged, their features carved from marble and untouched by time.; yet their eyes, hard and piercing, tell a story of countless seasons. Among them are several elfmen, elfmaids, and those indeterminate wiuligar whose aspect implies—in the eyes of your kindred—the Great Ancestors’ own eyes upon them.

The high priest and priestess of Sun and of Moon stand out. Each of these avatars of faith has that particular aspect which you now know to be that of the Eladrin—the celestial High Elves of Holy Luna and Holy Sol. The high priestess of Moon, resplendent in moonstone jewelry, appears incredibly gracile and pale, her blue-silver eyes almost metallic, glistening with subtle supernatural sheen beyond even those of Dappulyet’s Priestess, Clanirae. She stands in stark contrast to the High Priest of Sun, an imposing figure with his (?) face invisible behind a solid golden sun-disc mask, without even slits for his eyes. He wields a great, cudgel-like staff, his demeanor intimidating and his purpose resolute.

The other council members are seated according to their assigned duties, each attired in a distinctive manner:

There is, of course, Commander Qinfir. He ascends to his raised seat, and takes his place. He still wears Ranger's garb, chest bearing live flowers where Men might wear medals. He looked down upon you with a by-now familiar countenance: serious but not entirely unsympathetic.

Beside him is seated an elfmaid draped in garments woven from flower petals and leaves exudes an inner glow, her skin radiant with an ethereal light. Her presence is both captivating and serene, embodying the aesthetic ideals of the elven culture.

To their left, you see an androgynous elf cloaked entirely in woven bark and moss. Though no Kuttralas Cult member attends today, this elf reminds you of them in some queer way, albeit less transgressive and taboo than those mushroom-tenders and bug-keepers, so close to Death as to shock elven sensibilities.

Next in line is a wizened male elf with sharp, calculating eyes. He strokes a thin, wispy beard—a rarity among your mother’s race—as he surveys you. His attire, adorned with interestingly un-elven accents and accoutrements, strikes you as mercantile in a by-now familiar way; a captain of industry, perhaps, as your homeland perceives such activities?

A kind-faced matron-elf, robed in white and spun gold, exuding warmth and nurturing. Her face is placid and serene, but it is the serenity of exhaustion and age. Soemhow, she reminds you of your mother, though without the vibrancy of relative youth which Mylarelea Mious yet retains… And with a rather hefty chest, which you pointedly do NOT stare at.

Last is a raven-haired elf like yourself—well, except for your no longer being elfin, you suppose—with cascading dark hair and attire that flows like water and a languid grace.
>>
>>6102232
“Honoured Elders of Iterngreyn’s Sacred Council,” intones the Ranger Commander, “You who, by the authority vested in us by the ancients, the reversed and most holy ancestors, and by the trust of the young and yet-unborn… We gather here today to hold council over the just and righteous fate of an elfman of Dappulyet, of the family Mious, and of the clan of Divine Princess Miannie’s devout worshipers: Ezreal Mious Van Houtzmann.”

As you stand before the council, the weight of their collective scrutiny bears down upon you. Each member represents a facet of elven society, their combined judgment poised to dictate your fate. As the assembled elite regard you, their expressions a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and judgment, you feel the weight of their appraisal.

The room grows quiet, the only sound the rustling leaves and distant whispers of the ancient forest outside. You steady yourself, knowing that the truth you bear must be as unwavering as the deep roots of the trees that surround you.

This is no mere council; it is the beating heart of elven civilization, and you stand at its mercy.

“Ezreal Mious Van Houtzmann of Dappulyet,” he intones, each syllable laden with significance, “you stand before the Council of Elders to answer for actions taken, both noble and ignoble.”

“I know,” you say quietly, and then louder, more confidently:

>I will account for myself, but I would have rest first, and a chance to meet with someone of the Realms...
>I throw myself at your mercy—let the telling commence, and the trial begin
>I request a... Shit, what's the elven word for 'lawyer'?
>Write-in
>>
>>6102233
>I will account for myself, but I would have rest first
Ask for a summon of the death cult personnel that’s responsible for the prince’s safekeeping before us. He will be our witness - we were handed him lawfully.
>>
>>6102233
>I throw myself at your mercy—let the telling commence, and the trial begin
Might as well get this over with. We don't really have anyone to visit except mom, and I'd rather get the trial over with than have it looming while we talk.
>>
>>6102264
>+1
>>
>>6102251
>>6102264
>>6102399

“I am ready…. Ready to speak of my actions, both those you are already aware of and those that remain hidden.”

After all, what good will rest do? You have no plans to deceive these elves, directly or indirectly, and nobody to meet with save maybe your mother, Mylaerlea. You briefly toy with the notion of finagling the Kuttralas Cult’s elder as a witness, but you know it will do you little good—surely they’ll have spoken with the old wiuligar mystic by now, and it was already known to the Qinfir how you came to have custody of Bloodrise’s insectoid princeling… And how you stepped beyond the bounds of that implicit agreement to extract him from the realms by dead of night.

No, it’s time to face the music.

With a resolve that hardens your heart but lightens your conscience, you begin to recount your tale: from your departure from Iternagreyn’s ‘Tower’ to study in Hawksong, to your return this very day. You unburden yourself of secrets, yours and those you have uncovered in these last two decades.

You speak of your rivalry-turned-friendship-turned-love with the last surviving human descendant of House Yosef, and your discovery of what was done to her and to her house… And how she, and you, relinquished the possibility of nobility to secure a future for yourselves, and for all people, free from darkest fate.

You talk of your tutelage under the Spriit of the Old Mapel, how you kept his council and used his knowledge to heal and to help, even at the risk of defying the Gods and unleashing unfettered the holy knowledge of Attunement… And how you were careful to reveal those secrets (and those which you came by in your time at the Sacrae Schoale Lunae) only to those whom you trusted, and to teach them the importance of maintaining balance with the natural and supernatural aspects of the Earth.

In stops and starts, jumping years in the telling, you recount both of your journeys into the Goblin Wastes, where you wrought havoc upon slavers and savages, while protecting your Neme-Ashurati cousins and saving their own venerated Divine Ancestors… And of the Star you made with their magic, for the Unseelie Fey.

The tension grows when you arrive at this aspect of the telling, and yet you press on. You tell them, too, of your dealings with Banelight and her terrible court—the survivors of which you have already handed over to judgment, after having slain their Queen and reclaimed her extradimensional lands for the Light.
>>
>>6102828
“The slaying of True Fey—of ANY fairy-folk—is a grave offence against our creators,” the Lunar priestess reminds you, sounding sad and faintly sickened to hear of how you stripped away that which was of value in Banelight, and cast the rest down into Death’s Domain.

“Yet the Unseelie were reprehensible traitors to that which is Good and Free,” her Solar equivalent acknowledges gravely. “Less forgivable is what occurred in this world… The Sylvan lives taken, to protect that which you took, and gave, against the will and wishes of the Gods Above.”

At last, yes, you come to this… And with a mix of shame and defiance, you account for yourself, and for Izirina. How you feared for her life, and for your own. How you were exhausted, and alone, and outnumbered.

“…And that’s why I gave the order,” you admit. “I was afraid. I didn’t think… I believed that they would kill us both, if we didn’t kill them.

“Lacking faith in elven honour, in elven principles, you broke them first before your foes could,” summarizes the stern, bearded elfman.
>>
>>6102829
“That’s not--!”

You stop your outburst before childish outrage can hurt your case. No, you need to think this through. How should you respond to this allegation?

>He’s right—you were wrong, and you regret your actions
>With all due respect, it isn’t that simple, and you still think you did what you had to do
>You will say no more on that matter—let them cast their judgement as they will
>Write-in

“And what of the sacred plants, fruit of the moon, which those Rangers were dispatched to retrieve?” asks the elfmaid with the male skin and metallic eyes.—the Lunar High-Priestess.

“Yes, there is that matter,” agrees the bark-clad androgene, casting a sidelong look at the ranger Commander. “Many of us have wondered why these were not retrieved, as you yourself were…”

Commander Qinfir’s face betrays little, but you sense annoyance and even exhaustion in the subtle twitch of an eye, as he explains with the air of one who is repeating himself: “The peace talks being delicate as they were, it seemed imprudent to introduce a new element… And I am no thief, nor do I appreciate my Rangers being deployed for such purposes.”

“It is not theft, to take back that which was ill-gotten to begin with,” pronounces the Solar High-Priest from behind his mask, voice echoing curiously by some enchantment: a proclamation with the weight of Sun King Lughala’s own godly authority.

“Hm,” comes the bearded and mercantile elf’s non-reply, accompanied by an unconvinced expression.

How do you respond to this? To concede would be to give up one of your greatest successes, and a major boon for the Hill and for the wider world. To refuses will, you fear, display a persistent streak of roguish recalcitrance to those who might already be ill-disposed towards you.

>Offer to have the berries brought here, if they so desire
>Refuse to have the berries brought here—they’re yours, and you WILL use them to improve this world, one day
>Explain that you cannot bring them back because… [provide an explanation]
>No comment—you will remain silent on this matter
>Write-in

[A Sociability roll will follow. Concessions will improve your odds; refusals will increase the DC. Write-ins and elaborations of your vote can only help your cause.]
>>
>>6102830
>He’s right—you were wrong, and you regret your actions
Ever since it happened we've regretted it

>Offer to have the berries brought here, if they so desire
>>
>>6102830
>>Write-in: Blades were drawn, and they charged fourth with violent intent. If they wished to maintain elven honor they should have fled or thrown down their weapons.

It is absurd to take the blame for deaths of violent kidnappers, being slain by the person they captured and assaulted.

The sun priest is talking about honor, but what code of elven honor justifies breaking into people houses in other countries and kidnapping them?

>Write-in: The sacred bushes belongs solely to the community on the hill. They watered them and cared for and natured them to maturity. If they wish for them back they can trade or purchase them.

I'm liking this sun priest less and less, this whole trial is a kangaroo court. He accuses us of thievery. We were stabbed, clawed and almost died multiple times earning the right to go to moon. The Moon berries were offered to us freely. They have no right to seize them from that point on.
>>
>>6102830
>With all due respect, it isn’t that simple, and you still think you did what you had to do
We had precedent those rangers intended to use lethal force - point to nenaias summoning the spriggan which could have crushed us in the duel. We also tried to restrain nenaias non-lethally in that situation because we had magic left. We didn’t in this case.

>Refuse to have the berries brought here—they’re yours
The moonberries were given to us on the moon. They were not stolen.

And on earth, and outside of their natural habitat, they withered - only through our intervention and the hill’s caretaking was it able to even flourish to begin with.

The use we made of it, was purely personal. We did not sell them. We did not leak it to theral or hawksong or anyone else.

We refuse to have the fruits of our efforts removed from our possession. Although the sylvan realms may make use of it if they intend to grow their own. Or ask for our knowledge in growing it themselves.
>>
>>6102830
>He’s right—you were wrong, and you regret your actions

>Offer to have the berries brought here, if they so desire
>>
>>6103070
To go into more detail why I'm voting for this.

I don't really get what we achieve from arguing about 'why' killing those Elves was justified in the moment because it really wasn't. We had plenty of other options that we could have done that might've of been harder and prolonged the encounter but killing them was the easiest and the way to guarantee the end. You could argue the emotional aspect of it. Like wanting to protect Izzy and the distress of her kidnapping, but would that really change anything for the Elves on this trial? I don't really think so because the crime of an Elf killing an Elf is something so taboo that something like kidnapping isn't really a justification even if it's slightly more understandable.

It's something baked into their, culture, religion, and moral structure as one of the most profane crimes. It's better to just apologize since we put our story out there.
>>
>>6103070
>+1
>>6103466
compelling argument, anon
>>
Rolled 8, 19, 1, 14 = 42 (4d20)

>>6103509
>>6103070
>>6102969
>>6102904
>>6102835
You can think of many a reason not to apologize or accept the blame for what occurred that grim winter, out on the fields. What code of elven honour is it, for instance, which justified kidnapping someone out of their tent and stealing the crops which they have so lovingly and attentively cultivated? And what sort of faith were you supposed to have in such a code, after Nenaias nearly killed Izzy and yourself beneath the roots and branches of his treant?

But none of that would change the Council’s minds… And none of that would change your own heart.

You may not be an elf by blood or by spirit, but you have chosen the path of a Disciple of the True Fey. Even now, as a Man, you choose that path—the path of life, of mercy, of remorse, and of recompense. Above all else, you are your choices—the person you CHOOSE to be.

>-EGO

“You’re right,” you say, and you mean it. “I didn’t… I never wanted things to turn out how they did. I felt I had reason to kill, to defend myself an Izirina. My emotions were…”

Even now, the justifications struggle to push past your lips, to form a shield of word against the piercing spears of the elder elves’ staring eyes. You force them back down into your churning stomach, and instead choose to bear your heart.

“It doesn’t matter,” you conclude. “What we did, what I did, was wrong. It was wrong for them to draw their blades… And it was wrong of me to take the easy way out, by… By killing those Rangers.”

It feels good to say it. Bad, because you’re confessing a crime, and admitting a grave sin—to them, and to yourself—but ALSO good. You feel more in-alignment with the person you once were—the young boy who would not let a jackalope or rabbit suffer, who sought only to help and to heal.

“And the berries?”

You wince at this question, however, gentle the tone, and loo up at the motherly elfmaid who spoke the words.

“I will write a letter, if I am permitted, asking the people at Old Maple Hill to return them to the True Fey… To Holy Luna, if that is where you would end them. I stull believe they could be a great boon to this world, and it was never my intent to steal them... But if it is the will of the Council, so be it.”

DC 15 at base,
-2 for coming willingly,
+2 for serious transgressions against elvenkind and the fey pantheon and for aiding the enemy,
-2 for your actions in Dappulyet and for brokering a peace,
+2 for working with the Unseelie,
-2 for destroying Banelight's court and handing over her rebels
-1 for keeping the Council' secrets
-2 for full contrition
-4 for returning the berries willingly

DC 6/10/14/18/20; every degree of success is a major milestone
>>
>>6103533

The elves of the Council of Elders look between one another, clearly surprised at your contrition. A more cynical part of you, still very much alive, wonders if they aren’t suspicious, or perhaps considering how much more they could ask of you, in exchange for your freedom…

But no. No! You shake off the notion, squeezing your eyes shut as you push down these traitorous thoughts. It was this cynicism, this lack of trust, which drove your actions for so long, and pushed you to the very verge of darkness. What sort of Elf, what sort of MAN, can put his faith in the likes of Ayla’s hellish heart, or the Dragon King of Bloodrise, and yet cannot have faith in his own people?

You open your eyes, and find the Council’s whispered consultation is over. Blushing brightly, you realize they’ve been waiting for you to return to your senses, with patient, almost paternal quietude.

“Sorry,” you apologize, one final time.

“The time for apologies is over,” intones the High Priest of the Sun.

You flinch at the finality of his tone. Your drawn-taut tension only releases when you hear the elfman with the flowing head of blue-black hair sigh deep and long.

“Lurieth, PLEASE, you must learn not to speak a reprieve like a sentence.”

The solar cleric shifts slightly, saying nothing but clearly embarrassed behind his mask.

“Wait, you mean…?”

Commander Qinfir nods, and smiles slightly—a genuine, warm smile. You were already allowing yourself to feel a spell of relief, but now it is as if a max0casted <Calm> ahs washed over you. Your legs wobble and nearly give out.

“initially, we had thought to try you as thief, spy, murderer, traitor, and heretic,” the High Priestess of the Moon admits, sighing and almost palming her face. “Such a sentence would have carried the harshest possible penalty: a free choice between execution and lifetime imprisonment.”

>This would have been the result of a crit ail

You force yourself not to overreact, because after all… “You changed your mind, though?”

“We did,” the bark-clad wiuligar confirms. “Before you even arrived, when the Ranger Commander send word n the wind that he was returning with you, we knew such judgement was no longer appropriate.”

“though the crimes were still all true, and you were plainly guilty,” the mercantile, bearded elf is quick to interject, giving you a reproving glare. “I’d recommended a sentence of fifty years, with the possibility of parole.”

“FIFTY Y--!”

“Which I pointed out was unfair to one who has already sacrificed the youth of the feytouched, and the long life of our race,” the motherly elf in the white robe interjects, favouring you with a sympathetic smile. “Especially or one so recently committed to the love of another, and to starting a family.”

(No shit…)

>This would have been the result of a normal failure

“Thank you,” you say aloud.
>>
>>6103561
“I’d suggested a more reasonable sentence of twenty-five,” she says, smiling beatifically. “With the chance of parole after fifteen.”

You choke a little.

>This would have been your result on a 6

“Whereas I was of the opinion that ten would suffice,” the dark-haired elfman adds.

>This would have been a result on a 10

“And in the end?” you ask getting a little impatient now.

Commander Qinfir seems to take mercy on you, skipping to the end: “Seven years…”

>Result of a 14

“…of banishment from the Sylvan Realms, and the return of the berries which you took from Holy Luna.”

>Result of an 18

It take you a moment to process this.

“Wait,” you say, at length, “so you’re saying…”

“Magus Ezreal Mious Van Houtzmann, of Dappulyet and of the Hawksong Mages’ Tower,” the booming voice of the Solar High-Priest rings out, “you are to leave these lands, and to not return until seven winters have passed—one for each elf whose live you took.”

“Less time served,” the Lunar high-Priestess adds.

“…Yes,” the sun-cleric agrees after a moment. “Less time served.”

Feeling a fool, and almost lowering yourself to count upon your fingers like a child, you ask: “So… Five years?”

“Yes,” Commander Qinfir confirms.

“And I can serve this sentence…?”

“Wherever you’d like,” the Ranger Commander. “Provided it isn’t in the Sylvan Realms.”

You stare blankly, until a warmth fills your heart and a smile spreads across your face. So this, at long last, is what it feels like to have your faith rewarded! Oh, there’s a bitterness there, too, to lose the berries you invested so much time, energy, and money into preserving, acclimatizing, and cultivating, but even so.

You’ll get to go home! Right away!

You’ll get to be there when your child is born!

“There is only one more matter.”

(Ah fuck…)
>>
>>6103563
You look up at the council-member who spoke: the High Priestess of the Moon, here serving as representative of your people’s patron and of Holy Mother Moon herself, Heavenly Queen Rianniane.

“You have danced with darkness, young one… In many forms, for many years.” She pauses. “We are all grateful that it has not claimed you as its own, and for the good work which you have done for our people, our fellow Children of the Light, and the world. We will not undermine your efforts, and thus court war or calamity most dire.”

(‘But…’)

“But,” she continues.

(Knew it.)

“We would ask you freely, and honestly, before you depart… Is there any threat which you know of, any aspect of your tale you have not yet told, which you feel that the Council, the Chaotic Good Gods, and the Sylvan Realms ought to be made aware of?”

You consider the question seriously, and decide that….
>They ought to know that Theral knows about the prophecy, and still plans to see it to fruition and to see his descendant conquer the world some day
>The Council should be aware of Ayla, and Veigar, who know virtually everything that YOU know, and who have hidden somewhere beyond your reach or knowledge
>That there seems to be some sort of mysterious cult taking shape in the human lands, though you’ve not yet investigated them
>That the Archmage, whom you do not fully trust, has been made aware of a cache of High Magic artefacts from a previous era, and plans to retrieve them
>That they know all that they need to know, for now
>Write-in
>>
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>>6103561
>a free choice between execution and lifetime imprisonment.
Qinfir was literally making shit up I guess

>>6103564
Theral’s cool as long as the sylvan realms are cool. We don’t need to fearmonger them unnecessarily.

Ayla and Veigar… they have their own lives to live. Also they’re not even prophency-related because he’s a gob.

Archmage is literally gonna die in the same time our sentence is over.

>That there seems to be some sort of mysterious cult taking shape in the human lands, though you’ve not yet investigated them
On our wedding our bride’s side of the family was attacked. Chasing off the bandit clan leads (>>6094440) to a mage talking of a dragon and bargains.

Losing the berries kinda sucks but at least we’re alive and in hawksong. And we do have energy drain to replenish our mp in combat.
>>
>>6103591
Am >>6102969
>>
>>6103564
>That there seems to be some sort of mysterious cult taking shape in the human lands, though you’ve not yet investigated them

>They ought to know that Theral knows about the prophecy, and still plans to see it to fruition and to see his descendant conquer the world some day

This is hard one. Our kid is already going to have undue attention on him from Theral and Bloodrise and this is going to add even more. However, I'm fine with telling them along with the caveat that they don't interfere directly with our child's life unless it is in direct danger or upon request. Any agents should just be friendly 'Uncles' at most. They can hopefully counterbalance Godfather Theral's influence a little bit.
>>
>>6103564
>That there seems to be some sort of mysterious cult taking shape in the human lands, though you’ve not yet investigated them
>>
>>6103564
>>That there seems to be some sort of mysterious cult taking shape in the human lands, though you’ve not yet investigated them

I missed a few important days i would have loved to take part; nice execution RQM.
I would have voted mostly the same... Barring one point.
So are we returning the berries?

I have a plan if that's so : Clone + rite of attunement to keep some at the hill.
>>
>>6103704
doesnt that go against the spirit of what they ask?
>>
>>6103717
yes. Or maybe we can directly ask Moon Goddess? If she says it's okay to keep it?
>>
>>6103720
I mean, sure I guess, she only did say our sentence was reduced to 5 years instead of 7 + confiscation of berries
>>
>>6103564
>All of the above
>>
>>6103720
>>6103704
You might have a point. Using chimerism, we were able to manipulate izzy's neural chemistry to produce the same chemicals as pink shirin when she smells us.

I dont see why we couldn't take some of our young goats or cows at the hill, Use feycraft too make them magical creatures like the jackoploes. And then using chimerism to manipulate their biochemistry so their milk ducts produce moon berry fluid instead of milk.
>>
>>6103879
[Today sucked at work and a friend has hit me up. I will write later tonight, or tomorrow, depending how late she wants to hang.]
>>
>>6104168
have fun and take care
>>
>>6104168
Take your time
>>
>>6104397
>>6104407
>>6103785
>>6103704
>>6103621
>>6103618
>>6103591
You shew your lips a little, a nervous habit you’re all-to-ware tells the Council you have SOMETHING you’re considering sharing. They do not pressure you, though, but rather wait with the patience of ages—the sort of patience someone over two centuries old can cultivate. But what to so?

You know that the so-called Copper Dragon King of Bloodrise is risk, but so do they. One can hardly miss it. What they DON’T know is what HE knows: the prophecy, hopefully forestalled or averted, which he still hopes to exploit to his advantage. But if that prophecy HAS been avoided—as you sincerely hoped and pray is the case—then why raise a high alert for nothing, on the precipice of what could otherwise be a lasting peace?

Your master’s aspirations to uncover the hidden cache of High Magic artefacts hidden away by the Towers founder at the end of his era could have implications for the balance of power in the next Age of High Magic…. But given her condition, she is just as likely to be dead before that ever becomes an issue. And anyway, she is no enemy of the Realms, is she? For all her faults, her discovery and usage of some relics would probably present more of a risk to BLOODRISE than any Sylvanfolk.

And as for Ayla and Veigar…. Well, that’s really none of their business. You’ve gone to great pains to exclude their lives and lineage—should there be any such a lineage—from any perilous predictions. Neither of them is elven, and the notion of a goblinoid ‘Tips’ and a demon-tainted, scaly-skinned ‘Izzy’ claiming the (officially-disbanded) House of Yosef seems rather implausible.

“There is one thing,” you say after some consideration, recalling your strange encounter with the unsettling hedge-mage and his band of bandits. “I don’t know that they’re exactly a risk to the Sylvan Realms, or anything more than a nuisance on the roads… But there HAS been some activity in the woods between here and Hawksong, in the area that the dragons attacked several years ago…”

The Council—especially the Commander of the Woodland Rangers—are eager and interested to hear of this news, despite is dubious significance. After all, demon-cults are a known quantity, as everyone knows. However, not all of them speak of a Hellish bargain spoiled by a ‘damned dragon’, something which plainly sets off alarms with several members of the Council.
>>
>>6104674
“…Well they’re not in league with the King of Bloodrise, at least,” concludes Commander Qinfir, with evident relief.

“That Darkness wars on Darkness is nothing novel, Commander,” says the High-Priest of the Sun. “The danger is that they may grow in strength to battle one another, absorb the power of those who are beaten and bested, and then turn that unified power against—”

“Yes,” Commander Qinfir interrupts, a little testily., “I am well-aware of how evil operated, Lurieth.”

The solar cleric, Lurieth, again falls awkwardly silent at being so chastised. You suspect he must be more used to talking to congregations of worshippers rather than being seated at a table of social and political equals.

“Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Master Magus,” says the High Priestess of the Moon, with a small, grim smile. “perhaps with this new pact of peace, we can reestablish our joint operations with the Holy order of Hawksong, and put a stop to these activities before they can become anything more… Serious.”

You bow your head quickly in response, and feel some small relief. These demon-dealers, whoever they are, targeted your family—for the Fanuccis ARE now family, whatever your feelings about some members of that household. You’d just as soon not have ANOTHER shadowy faction trying to capture or kill you with a child on the way. With Rangers, elven clerics, and the Paladins on the case, though, you and yours should be safe and sound.

(…You hope.)

“Is there anything else we ought to know?” asks the sun-priest.

“No,” you conclude. “That is all.”

If anyone doubts or questions you, they do not voice it. The council ceremony concludes with words of thanks, and mutual bows of respect between you and each of its austere, auspicious members as they leave the council. You and the ranger Commander leave last of all, and together. You are still in his custody, after all, until such time as you depart for your half-decade of banishment.

“Thank you again for coming all this way, Master Magus,” the Commander says. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. In know it is precious to…”

He trails off, but you know how he meant to end the sentence: time is precious to Men, short-lived and aging human beings.

“It could have taken much, much more of my time,” you acknowledge. “I’d expected… Well, it doesn’t matter. But I can’t help but be glad it was only a couple weeks of travel.”

“I should expect you’d like to rest before we return you home, though?” he inquires.

“Yes,” you blurt out, for exhilaration at your light sentence has turned to exhaustion, now that the nervousness and tension is gone. “I’d like that VERY much, yes.”
>>
>>6104677
The Commander nods, and quickly flags down some of the Iternagreyn’s capital guardians to arrange your accommodations. You are escorted thereafter to… Well, actually the same tree-top branch-bridged open-air apartment where you stayed last time you were here, or something VERY much like it. It fills you with a mix of memories, bitter and sweet, for this was also the sort of space where you stayed when first you left your clan in Dappulyet, when your mother sent you away to study the arcane arts, and in that ways et you on the path that led you here.


“Mother…”

Mylaerlea Mious, your mother, is someone you’ve seen only sparingly since your tenth birthday: only once, in fact, when you and your father stayed in Dappulyet and defended its shrine and sacred moonstone from the Unseelie Fey. She cared for Muffins for your year-or-so away on Dappulyet and then in Hawksong, before you returned t retrieve him on the same disastrous diplomatic foray whereby you liberated Bloodrise’s prince. Your wrote her a letter, when last you left, expressing your forgiveness, understanding, and gratitude for what she had done… Even if a part of you, deep down, still mourns the lost years. With tensions high and trade broken between Hawksong and the Sylvan Realms these last few years, it is unsurprising that you never received word back… But part of you still wishes she’d been able to attend your wedding.

Veloz is with you—swift-winged, loyal, psycho-spiritually attuned Veloz. Your room comes not just with bed and board, but also a desk and plant-derived indigo-blue ink, and a fallen feather quill with which to write. You could send her a message, if you so desire.

Do you have anything to say to your mother, before you leave?
>Yes [write-in]
>No

Is there anything else you wish to attend to before you depart these realms for five years?
>Yes [write-in]
>No

[After this, comes the last update or two of Ezreal’s journey, and a small epilogue…]
>>
>>6104678
>>Yes [write-in]
Tell her about the trial, our discarded elvenkind for the greater good, and how we'd love her to visit before we get banned to come back for 5 years to see her to-be-borned grandson
>>
>>6104688
and No.
>>
>>6104688
>+1
and
>No
>>
>>6104678
>>6104688
+1
What are we writing the letter on though? Last time I remember we tried on leaves before giving up.

>Yes
See if we can chat with Clanirae a bit before leaving, see how she's doing and what she thinks of everything
>>
>>6104678
>Yes [I love you *hug*]
Also, to visit us sometime- Dad’ll appreciate it.

>Yes [Talk to the Priestess we saved so long ago, and pray at the Temple, for thanks, and to converse with our friends on the Moon, if possible]
I still can’t believe we never learned Moonmagic in two full quests- so if the opportunity arise, I’d like to at least learn something.
>>
>>6104688
>>6104689
>>6104710
>>6104737
>>6104757
You’re gratified to find the desk, because, if you’re going to be leaving the Realms for another long stretch, you simply wouldn’t feel right not sending your mother SOME sort of update. After all, the missive at the end of your LAST stay can hardly have brought her much comfort, informative though it may have been. Whatever the Council’ opinion, your encounter with those two Rangers on the road made it clear that the average elf’s opinion of you is not exactly a positive one.

You brought parchment with you, of course—more than you’ll need, it seems, since you WON’T be spending years of your life in and dungeon somewhere. You brought a quill and ink as well, but a nostalgic whim prompts you to sue the native variety provided to you. Somehow, using Sylvan implements helps you feel… You don’t know, CLOSER to your mother.

‘Dear Mother,’ you begin, ‘I hope you haven’t been worried for me since I last wrote you.’

She must have been, right? In truth, the idea that she WOULDN’T have been at least a little worried would trouble you more, under the circumstances… But no, for all the physical and emotional distance between the two of you, your relationship with your mother is nothing like that between the Henzlers. You know your mother loves you.

‘The news since then is largely positive, though I cannot speak of the particulars, and they are not without,’ you pause here, to consider your word-choice, and settle upon: ‘complications.’

‘Though it has not been a journey without pitfalls, or a conclusion without compromises, I truly believe I have succeeded in doing what I set out to do, two years ago: I have made the world a better place. Or, at least, I have begun the process. I have found a path to peace, at least for a time.’

You linger here, unsure how much to say, and how to say it. Your mother once sent you away as a young child, and you have long suspected that it was at least in part because of the pain of seeing how quickly you grew and aged relative to a full-blooded elf. You haven’t truly grappled with the full implications of your decision to relinquish what elven blood you DID have: an expected lifespan reduced from something like 120 or 150 years to a scant 70 or 80, IF you’re lucky and maintain a healthy lifestyle. Your mother will still be in the prime of her life, if not quite ‘young’, by the time you are old and withered and…


‘There is a price to this peace,’ you begin writing again, ‘which I hope we can discuss in-person, someday soon. I regret that I cannot visit you in Dappulyet, much as I might love. One day I promise I will return there, to celebrate the season with you again, but duties and responsibilities will keep me away for the next five years or so.’

(And legal penalties, but there’s no need to get into that.)
>>
>>6104828
‘I believe trade and travel between Hawksong and the Sylvan Realms will soon be normalized, though. I hope that you will find the opportunity to travel to visit me, if you could. I know Rudolfo would appreciate it, also, and I promise that I will keep him on best behaviour.’

You smile to yourself as you add: ‘I am certain your grandchild would appreciate it, too.’

You sign the letter and carefully fold it over, tucking it into one of Izirina’s provided envelopes—though, alas, not one with any sort of teleportation enchantment. Well, no matter—you can’t really cast or control such much anyway, and even Izzy’s usual exploitation of an upcasted and modified <Teleport Object> spell can only bring things to Izirina’s current location. Instead, you hand it to Veloz, and by word and by way of your unspoken connection, you communicate to him where he should take the letter as you place it betwixt her upper and lower bill. You smirk a little at his muffled trumpet of dutiful assent, and at the wobbling, lopsided flight-path he initially adopts before adjusting to the letter’s shape, and its added wind-resistance. When he is gone from view, vanished among the boughs of Iternagreyn’s abundant trees, you turn way, and lay down upon your bed, and finally rest your eyes, body, and brain.



“…real.”



“Ezreal.”

The voice is so soft, so patient, that even when you finally register that it is speaking your name, it takes you a while to open your eyes and acknowledge it. A couple bleary blinks later, you sit bolt upright in surprise, to see the familiar pale face and opalescent eyes of your clan’s resident cleric: Priestess Clanirae of Dappulyet. But…

“Here?” you blurt out, still waking up. “Wh-what? Why? Am Id reaming?”

Priestess Clanirae tilts her head slightly, long white-silver hair swaying with the gesture as she smiles with a subtly arched eyebrow, and asks: “Do I often feature in your dreams, Young master Mious?”

You feel your face flush and stammer something between an apology and an outraged denial, but she simply laughs a delicate, beautiful laugh.

“To answer your other question, I was called upon prior to your arrival, by the High Priestess of Rianniane and of Holy Luna, to serve as a… I believe the humans call it a character witness’?”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, and then: “Oh! So, do I have you to thank for the Council’s understanding of my, you know, circumstances?”

She shakes her head slightly, and says: “I did what I could, because I know you to be a good elf… And a good Man, as well, for that matter. The end result was the result of your own diligence and dedication to doing what was right, though.”

You raise your eyebrows at this, and can’t help asking: “So your expert opinion as a priestess is that I didn’t do anything wrong?”
>>
>>6104830
Clanirae gives you a squint tut of teasing disapproval.

“That’s between you and the Divine Princess of Sacred Secrets, Master Mious Van Houtzmann. Mine is not to cast judgement on your past, but to guide you to do good in the future… In whatever small way I can.”

Priestess Clanirae’s pale skin, slight frame, floating fluidity, and elongated ears all attest to her High Elven ancestry (or influence by some other means? Your impression of the Lunar Eladrin was that they were created beings in a very literal sense, simultaneously hermaphroditic in particulars and yet incapable of biological reproduction… but you’d never had that mystery clarified, and had been too embarrassed to ask). Unlike the High priestess with her metallic blues, though, the pearlescent eyes of your people’s local cleric have always seemed approachable, comforting. Perhaps it’s because she’s always been there, from when you were young, even if you can hardly remember your first meeting. Maybe it’s simply that she represents your experience with your ancestral faith and your honorued ancestors from a time before everything became so damned complicated. Whatever the reason, you feel compelled to ask again:

“But what do you think? of… Well, whatever you know of what happened, and about my…” Your hand finds your rounded earlobe. “…My condition?”

“Young Master, do not speak of your father’s blood as if it were a disease,” she chastises you gently.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” you mutter. “but…?”

“But what do I think, of what you’ve done, and become?” asks the priestess.

You nod.

Priestess Clanirae cups your cheeks in her small, delicate hands, and you feel your face and your round ears heat upon again as she leans in close, close enough to… Well, anyway VERY close.

“I think you have walked a path you were always meant to walk,” she says.

You frown a little at that, and pull back.

“Destiny, you mean?” Like prophecy, which you’ve fought against at every turn. “Priestess… I’m sorry, but that can’t be right.”

(It can’t. <Final Revelation> , your abandonment of your elven blood, t MUST have changed your fate!)

“Do not dismiss destiny so lightly,” she advises you. “Fate is what you make of it, but so much f this world was set in motion before either of us were born.”

She lowers her voice a little, and whispers as if in heretical secrecy: “Before even the Gods Themselves were born, maybe. They’ve never been able to foresee everything, only to predict the likeliest paths. You’ve never gone against your nature, Ezreal… And it is a good nature, so be glad of that! But obscuring the path with a metaphysical fog does not erase the path from existence and you still yet walk it.”

You narrow your eyes at this frown deepening.
>>
>>6104833
“Then you still think that the prophecies of the Gods Above are going t come true, even after everything? Everything I did? That it was all for nothing?” You feel yourself getting a little angry, though whether at Clanirae, the Gods, or yourself, you can’t be sure. “What about free will? What about our CHOICES?”

Priestess Clanirae looks away, staring out the window, a some unseen moon beyond the leaves and branches.

“I don’t know,” she admits with a wan smile. “But I think that perhaps the choices that the Gods made, to make us—to give us the freedom to make choices, is what initially set the path. I think that even as we walk it, the reason BEHIND the choices matters as much as much as the choices themselves. I believe that, when we arrive at our destination, it will be the truth in our heart that matters most—and that this truth is what we really choose.”

She looks back at you, and her eyes shine with the light of a certainty which goes beyond even the most esoteric of knowledge.

“I think that you have chosen to walk the path before you for the right reasons, and with a heart that is good, and true, and that’s all any of us can do.”

You gulp, mouth dry and uncertain how to reply—outrage, disbelief, acceptance, reverence? Before you can settle upon any of these, or any other ‘truth’, the pale priestess stands up, clasps her hands together, and bows.

“I look forward to your return to Dappulyet,” she tells you, “and I will ensure your mother receives your message.”

That answers another mystery: how she knew just where to find you, when you are effectively immune to divination magic such as scrying. But still…

“How did you know I was thinking of you?” you ask, because you had been, before you fell asleep. “that I wanted to speak with you?”

Her smile becomes a grin, and her eyes twinkle a little.

“I just followed my own path."

>>
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>>6104835


You awaken from strange, half-remembered dreams—dreams of judging eyes and hard choices, of relief and of confusion. You sit upright, and look to your left, where your love still slumbers beside you. You slip out of your small, simple bed and your feet find the creaky floorboards of your humble home, which you creep across as quietly a you can, to the window. You look out at the moon—distant and alien, in a way it never was before… Well, before EVERYTHING.

Before you cast <Clone> upon yourself. Or, rather, before the ‘real’ Tips did so, and created your first body. Before you left with Ayla, and together created the body and soul which now house the new you: not an imitation Ezreal, but the real, true, original Veigar.

You’ve fund peace in that sense of a fresh start, a new beginning. It’s like arriving at the end of a long, set path, and finding it branching in a hundred different directions ahead of you. It’s daunting, it’s almost overwhelming… But it’s free, truly free, from even the all-seeing eyes of Sun and Moon above. And isn’t that what you always wanted?

The last vestiges of the troubling dream leave you, as dreams and the queer feelings they elicit are wont to do when wakefulness returns. You are just about to return to bed when the growling bleat of your demonically-modified sheep catches your attention.

“What is it, Cupcake?”

Cupcake, her aspect mid-way between sheep and wolf thanks to your sorcerous designs, is at the door to your little cabin amidst the ruins on this burned and abandoned settlement. She is string out into the darkness, clearly having sensed or scented something unsettling. Though you are no true goblinoid anymore, you have retained the excellent night-sight of a being with true darkvision, and so you see clearly what she must only half-glimpse: humanoid figures shuffling amidst the ruins. You wrap your star-spangled lunar cloak about your greenish body to hide your strangeness as you confront the strangers:

“Show yourselves! And no funny business—I’m warning you!”
>>
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>>6104837
The movement ceases, and you properly perceive the figures now: humans, one clad in ill-fitted armour and sturdy workman’s clothes—the attire of militiamen, maybe, though the other is a woman in simple farmwear. You feel a pang of fear at the thought that your little hideaway might have been found out by some of the locals whom Ayla attends to as a hedge-mage and physician, to furnish the two of you with food. You well remember your—that is, Tips’—decision to keep those goblins which you rescued from slavery apart from human habitations, to avoid conflict. What should you, now almost a goblin yourself at a glance, expect from these folk, one of whom has arrived armed and armoured?

“We don’t want any trouble, sir,” speaks the man. “We mean no harm.”

As he takes step closer, you hold up your hands and will them to crackle with the charged aura of imminent Elementalism. The woman cries out in alarm, and the man stops.

“We’re here with a message,” he says. “A message for the Mistress!”

You blink a couple times, confused. Mistress? Do they mean… Ayla? Who are these people to her: patients? Customers?

>Hear them out
>Wake Ayla
>Send them away
>Write-in
>>
>>6104835
Wow, she's a lot wiser than I remember

>>6104837
>Cupcake, her aspect mid-way between sheep and wolf thanks to your sorcerous designs, is at the door to your little cabin amidst the ruins on this burned and abandoned settlement.
Really, they made an imitation Muffins?

>>6104838
>Hear them out
Iri's old cultists? Guess they couldn't find Carazzi. Settling for the wrong demonspawn here.
>>
>>6104830
I thought we couldn’t see her the last time after we lost our elven part of our selves?

>>6104838
>Hear them out
>Wake Ayla

>>6103591
>>
>>6104838
>Hear them out
let them yap.
>>6104860
>Really, they made an imitation Muffins?
some things are hard to live without.
>>
>>6104887
>>6104860
[Perhaps there is some confusion: Clanirae is simply the priestess who lived under the shrine to the moonstone in the Dappulyet area; you fought alongside her against the Unseelie, and later attended the peace conference. Divine Princess Miannie is the deity whom she serves, and is like fifteen feet tall and looks like a Grey.]
>>
>>6104923
No, I knew who Clanirae was. I expected a speech like that from Miannie instead though, which is why I was surprised it came from her.
>>
>>6104838
>Hear them out
>>
>>6104838
>Wake Ayla
>>
>>6105083
>>6104945
>>6104902
>>6104887
“Who are you people?” you demand. “What do you want Ay—I mean, what do you want with this ‘Mistress’?”

The man and woman exchange a look, as if debating silently whether to trust you with their mysterious message. You crouch down and pat Cupcake soothingly, until she reverts from lupine snarls to caprine bleats. The two humans watch you curiously as you do so, and it seems as if this act somehow helps them make the decision.

“My name is Gisela,” speaks the woman, and this is “Stefan. We are followers of the Mistress… Her first coming, and her second, and now… Her third.”

You narrow your eyes, and Cupcake gives a noise of warning, and Gisela’s gradual approach stops. You take a moment to process and interpret the words, but you eventually come to a conclusion, reinforced by a quick scan of the pair with your mage’s sight: they must be occultists, in some way associated with the succubus who ‘spawned’ Ayla and Carazzi.

“And what sort of message do you have for her?” you ask warily. “From who?”

“When the Mistress returned to her holy place, and began to offer her gifts to the world below again, we… We began to receive visions. Shared dreams.”

It is the man who speaks this time, haltingly, looking conflicted on the matter.

“I didn’t know what to make of them, but they were so identical between us, and…”

“They’re real,” the woman, ‘Gisela’ you guess, asserts. “They’re true.”

“And what did these visions contain?” you ask, increasingly anxious about this whole matter.

They tell you. It doesn’t help your anxiety any, to say the least. You and Cupcake go back inside, your faithful fleecy friend guarding the door and keeping these weird wanderers out, as you rouse Ayla and help her to groggily attire herself to meet them.

“I really don’t remember meeting these two before, Veigar,” she reiterates.

“And you haven’t been giving anyone any ‘visions’, I assume?”

Ayla gives you an offended, almost hurt, look of reproach.

“Right, sorry,” you murmur. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“And their vision was…”

“That the Bonum Chaoticum and the Sylvan Realms would strip the ‘other me’ of his powers, his elven ancestry and take away and destroy the <Goodberry> bush which I—he, I, whatever—brought back from Holy Luna.”
>>
>>6105233
The thought causes you no small consternation. You may have decided to move on with your life, separate rom he ‘real’ Ezreal, but you still have his memories, his history, and his dreams of a better world. None of that has changed. Those berries were meant to bring about a brighter future, free from famine and replete with holy, healing magic. Who do the elves think they ARE, to take those from you—or him—after all the effort you put into cultivating them! And why? What was so WRONG about feeding the hungry, or healing the sick?!

“Did they say anything else?” asks Ayla.

“They didn’t,” you answer. “They said there’s more but… But they’d only tell it to you.”

Ayla frowns, but you can see her mind working, and the gleam of curiosity in her glimmering eyes.

“I can’t verify any of this, you know,” she says.

You know. Not even Ayla, with all her excess aura and her tutelage by the Nothic, can scry upon those who have been liberated by the <Final Revelation> from the vagaries of time-space divination.

“But you want to hear them out,” you conclude.

She nods, and you find yourself agreeing. Together, with Cupcake between you, you step outside, to meet these bizarre messengers.

Almost immediately upon seeing Ayla, they fall to their knees and bow their heads. The man’s shaky faith seems to bear fruit, and the woman quivers and wails in some sort of unseemly religious ecstasy. Ayla, to her credit, is clearly uncomfortable with the whole affair, and after a moment you both step forward and help them up.

“You’re back,” Gisela whimpers. “You’ve really come back to us… Thank you, thank you Mistress! We were so afraid, so alone…”

“We expected them to come for us, to kill us… Our whole family.” So speaks Stefan, grimly but with a note of hope in his voice now that he’s seen who and what you suppose he had hoped to see. “The Paladins, or followers of the False Messiah.”

You look to an equally confounded Ayla, before looking back to Stefan and asking: “Wait, what?”

“The dreams,” Stefan explained. “The dreams we received… Of the coming age, the Age of the Final Revelation, and the New World Order. The world to come!”

That alarming announcement clears up essentially nothing, and only raises further questions. You make this clear to the peculiar pair in as polite a manner as you can manager. Once they have calmed themselves, they go on to explain the part of the message which, Ayla assured them, you are also 'worthy' to hear.
>>
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>>6105235
“There is a new age coming… An age of magic, and miracles. An age when the restrictive covenants of the old, false gods—Dark and Light—can finally be broken.” Gisela’s eyes are filled with wonder as she speaks what she regards as a revealed truth. “We will enter a new age... A union of spirit and matter, and an ascent beyond either, to something new, and pure, and beautiful.”

“No more man, and no more woman,” says Stefan, with less fervor but by now with equal certainty, as if reciting a hymn he'd heard. “No more elf and dwarf and halfling, and no more human. No more lizardman or beastman or goblin, either, and no more Southman and Eastman, or Northman for that matter. All as one, and separate. Free to be whatever we can dream.”

“No more demons or angels or fairies or gods,” wonders Gisela, eyes fixed upon Ayla. “The saviour, the Messiah, will free us from this broken world, and allow us to live forever, in pleasure and satisfaction, and grace!”

“Uh,” you say, and look to Ayla, who just shakes her head slightly, still not recognizing any of this.

“The Messiah will keep our families safe from the Beast,” agrees Stefa, with a quick glance at Cupcake. “The savior will create new kinds of life, and feed the hungry, and clothe the poor, and heal the sick, in a sacred community. He will transmute us into something… Something better. Something transcendent.”

Something clicks for you then, mentally. You recognize something in those words, something you heard once before…
>>
>>6105237
“And what does this have to do with the berries, on Old Maple Hill?”

“Those berries are the divine fire for the crucible,” the woman, Gisela, tells you, and her voice is pleading. “They will be the mana from heaven to feed to Messiah… the one growing inside the Mistress even now.”

You startle a little at that, as does Ayla. You’d known she was pregnant for a little while now—had been actively ‘working towards it’ many a night and with great enthusiasm, in fact. She hasn’t begun to show, yet, though. How can they know this, then? ANY of this?

“The forces of the old, broken world want to destroy those berries to keep us trapped here, in this crumbling world they’ve made, flawed and ugly and…” the man, Stefan, grows angrier as he speaks. “We lost two children, these last three years. Lost them to winter, to sickness, and hunger. So many lost children, or parents, or…”

He stops, looking up with tears in his eyes, and fury frothing at his lips.

“They prayed, and no gods answered. We knew better but… But even so, when my daughter wouldn’t wake, I prayed, too! And nobody answered!”

“The mistress answered,” fawns Gisela, pawing at a recoiling Ayla.

“I didn’t…”

“The old you, the ‘you’ clad in green!” the woman explains, laughing in joy. “She told us you’d reappear in a new form, and give us the answer—the Messiah, and the holy wine of the heavenly fruit, so that nobody will grow sick, or hungry, or old, or infirm! That you’d reappear in the place where we saw you die, whole and new, in a body created by your consort!”

You look about the ruins of the village where your solitary home stands, and wonder—not for the first time—what exactly happened here.

“The new age and new world will be defined by its Messiah,” says the man, Stefan, with great solemnity. “That’s what the dreams say. And if the Dragon’s brood takes the fruit…”

“Wait, the Dragon?”

“The Dragon from the mountain,” the man says. “The Copper Dragon.”

(…Prince Consort Long Wang? The Dragon King of Bloodrise?)

“…if he takes it,” continues Stefan, “he will raise up a False Messiah… A Great beast.”

“If the elves take away the fruit, there will be no Messiah at all!” Gisela cries out.

“Please,” Stefan begs, returning slowly to his knees. “We’ll do whatever you need us t do… Whatever you ask of us, Mistress, Master. We and our family will follow your laws and teachings. Just save the fruit. Just… Let us join you, in the sacred World To Come.”

“Fucking hells…” you mutter, unable to help yourself as you run fingers through your hair. “Uh, I… I need a minute. Ayla?”
>>
>>6105240
The two of you convene, a short ways away. Cupcake stays, sniffing around at the two suppliants who reach out to pet and stroke your companion.

“This is insane,” you say simply.

“Yeah,” she agrees, but then stops, and chews her lip.

“You’re considering it?” you balk.

“Not all this… ‘Messiah’ stuff!” she protests. “But Veigar… How could they know? Know all of this?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking down at her abdomen—at the spark of strange new life growing within her, the precious baby that will one day be born of your self-created body and spirit, and her cloned flesh and demonic essence. It WILL be a new form of life, never-before-seen that much is true.

“I’m not saying they’re right about everything,” Ayla points out, taking your hand and placing it upon the spot you were staring. “But if they’re really punishing Ezreal for… For just being good, for trying to help the world, and they want to take away or destroy those berries… Shouldn’t we save them? They could do a lot of good. I’ve seen how these rural communities are suffering. Hawksong isn’t helping them, or any gods. They’re right about THAT. And there’s only so much you and I can do with out own magic. But those berries…”

They really COULD change the world. You’ve always believed so, long before tonight. Maybe not in the (frankly quite weird) ways these people are talking about, but in others! So, too, could teaching these exceedingly-impressionable people even simple, medical magic. You could revolutionize their farming, their magic, and make them self-sufficient… And be part of a community again, something you’d really begun to miss since becoming born anew in verdant hue.

What will you do?
>Retrieve the berries from Old Maple Hill before they can be destroyed or stolen
>Agree to help and tutor these people in your philosophy and your knowledge, at least a little bit
>Detain these strangers and send a message to the Paladins… Though it would risk their judgement falling upon you and Ayla, and your unborn child
>Send them away and find a new home if you must—you’ll have no part of any of this
>Write-in
>>
>>6105240
>“The forces of the old, broken world want to destroy those berries to keep us trapped here, in this crumbling world they’ve made, flawed and ugly and…”
gnosticism time. also, given that they refered to Izzy as the "old" Ayla, they really mean her and Veigar's kid to be the messiah it seems.
I wonder which bigus dickus kid could be the false messiah
>>6105241
>Agree to help and tutor these people in your philosophy and your knowledge, at least a little bit
old habits die hard. while we not believe their stuff, they seem reliable and we can help them however we can. they're suffering peasants as well.
>>
>>6105241
>Agree to help and tutor these people in your philosophy and your knowledge, at least a little bit
We'll do it our own way. Fuck Ezreal. The berries are his problem.
>>
>>6105241
>Send them away and find a new home if you must—you’ll have no part of any of this

We have an unborn child. They take priority. We've done a good job shielding ourselves away from bullshit, it not time to stop now.
>>
>>6105241
>>Write-in
>Send them away
For now. We'll get back to them soon.
Visit the old maple hill and inform Tips of these prophecies.

Are these actually true? How much of it is speculation or prediction and how much of it is currently real?
>>
>>6105241
>Retrieve the berries from Old Maple Hill before they can be destroyed or stolen
+
>Send them away and find a new home if you must—you’ll have no part of any of this

Veigar and ayla needs to leave. gislea and her kin are know bandits. Staying here could bring paladin attention to us.
>>
>>6105309
>>6105346
>>6105547
[Three to retrieve the berries...]

>>6105547
>>6105483
>>6105384
[...But also three to send them away.]

[Am I parsing the vite properly? I'll update after work, so I just wanted to be sure.]
>>
>>6105682
I’m >>6105346
and I don’t want to retrieve the berries
>>6105547
Is the only vote I see to retrieve them
>>
>>6105745
The village cultists themselves want to take the berries on behalf of their future "messiah" Thats why they held up costella carriage.

Im guessing if we help them out they'll insist on getting the fruit.

>>6105240
>“If the elves take away the fruit, there will be no Messiah at all!” Gisela cries out.

>“Please,” Stefan begs, returning slowly to his knees. “We’ll do whatever you need us t do… Whatever you ask of us, Mistress, Master. We and our family will follow your laws and teachings. Just save the fruit. Just… Let us join you, in the sacred World To Come."
>>
>>6105682
wait, agreeing to helping them is also a berry robbing vote ? in that case, I'll go with sending them away
>>
>>6105777
>>6105745
>>6105766
[So in that case, I'm seeing one to retrieve the berries, one to consult with Tips (whi is under arrest when this is happening, so Izzy and Costella I guess?), two that involce tutleage WITHOUT berries, and the majority vote is to just send them away regardless?]
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>>6105788
>>6105777
>>6105766
>>6105745
>>6105682
>>6105547
>>6105483
>>6105384
>>6105346
>>6105309
[Locking and writing!]
>>
>>6105868
>>6105868
Before you even realize you’re doing it, you’re already committing to this cause: the returning to Old Maple Hill, to taking the berries away—or maybe cloning them, or capturing their essence somehow?—and to turning their magic towards helping these strangers.

But then you DO realize what you’re doing, and what you’re about to do, and you get angry.

“Veigar?”

You look up at Ayla, whose expression is filled with as much curiosity as concern.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeat. “Ayla… This isn’t our problem. NONE of it is. Not the berries, not the Hill, not ‘Ezreal’, not ‘Izirina’. Isn’t that what we agreed?”

“I know,” she says, not sounding entirely convinced. “But these people need—”

“These people, and people everywhere, need LOTS of things,” you interrupt her, moderating your tone only slightly when you see her shock. “Ayla… Did you always want to escape all these expectations and obligations, when you were—I mean, like, before all this?”

Ayla slowly nods, ceding the point but something still seems to trouble her.

“Yeah, but you would have helped them.”

“EZREAL would have helped them,” you correct, failing to keep the bitterness from your tone this time. “TIPS would have juggled a dozen obligations at any given time, running all over the world—and beyond!—trying to keep everyone happy, and healthy, and safe… And shit like this would have STILL happened!”

The two hopeful supplicants look up at you fling your hand towards them, pointing accusatorily. Flushing slightly, you lower your voice.

“It never ends,” you say, admitting to a frustration you’ve felt for years, yet never had the courage to voice, until now. “All I ever wanted to do was to learn, to practice magic, and maybe to travel… With you.”

“With Izirina, you mean?”

You take Ayla’s hands in yours, and meet her eyes with conviction.

“With YOU.”

You release her hands, and yours find her sides, framing her still-flat stomach, as you again focus on the forming force within her—new life, a new life for all of you.

“US. Just the three of us.”

Cupcake whines, and abruptly breaks away from Stefan and Gsiela, who watch her go with growing concern.

“Alright,” you laugh. “The FOUR of us.”

“You really don’t care what happens to these people?” Ayla asks.

She speaks softly, tone neutral, but Gisela must read lips, for her expression turns to fear. You feel a pang of guilt, but you really MUST be a new man—or goblin, or WHATEVER you are, because you answer:

“No. If we can help people, FINE… But this?”

You have a flash of intuition, and of memory. You recall a single great eye in the dark, framed by rubbery, bat-like wings, and a voice whispering soundlessly into your own subconscious, speaking of…

Transcendence.”

“…This is bait.”
>>
>>6105903
“You think it’s the Nothic,” Ayla intuits.

“I think it’s bullshit,” you clarify grimly.

Ayla nods, and steps forward. Stefan looks hopeful; Gisela takes a step back. Ayla stops short of either, though, and simply says:

“No solicitors, please.”

“W-wait,” Stefan pleads. “Please! You promised…”

Ayla raises her hand, and Gisela leaps forward as if to shield the younger-looking man, crying out in alarm. A moment, later, they’re both gone, and there is only silence.

“…Ayla?” you ask, worried now.

“I sent them home,” she reassures you. “Safe and sound.”

“You know where they live?”

Ayla’s calm expression falters, just a little, and she clarifies: “I sent them… Nearby. To a nearby village.”

“Ayla!”

You sigh, and rub your forehead. But, well… You DID say they weren’t your problem. Were you too rash? Too selfish? Maybe you SHOULD check in on your old friends at Old Maple Hill… Or at least make sure Izzy and Costella are safe?

“There’ll be more of this,” you note, not sure whether you mean those two humans coming back to bother you, or more of the Dark Gods’ machinations, or more trouble crossing over from your previous lives. “Maybe…”

Before you can second-guess yourself into a spiral, Ayla takes your hand. You look up, and see her smiling brightly, eyes full of a daring, fiery love—a selfish love, sure, but a real one, a genuine and pure one. A love for life, with you.

“And we won’t be here.”

You feel a warmth rise in your chest, and you step forward, embracing her.

“Where should we go first?” you ask.

“I’ve always wanted to visit the Hidden Temple, in the mountains of the Far East,” Ayla notes, with some excitement, then she frowns and adds: “but it’s VERY well hidden, as I understand it.”

“We’ll find it,” you say with a small smirk. “It’s kind of what I do.”

One casting of Dimension Door later, the ruins are empty and dead once again and finally, FINALLY, you are truly free.

>>
>>6105905


You are exhausted by the time you return to human lands, but less exhausted than you might have been before all this gallivanting about. You COULD have taken your secret tunnel-system through your Keep’s demiplane, but that would have risked tipping off the Sylvan Realms to one of your few remaining secrets. And anyway, Rudolfo was right about one thing: adventuring really IS good cardiovascular exercise. Between this and the added leg-length from becoming fully human, you might just be able to ascend the Tower’s spiral staircase without getting winded. Wouldn’t THAT be something?

(Probably couldn’t hurt when it comes to keeping up with Costella and Izirina, either…)

You shake off the pleasantly-lurid notion as Veloz chirps to alert you. You are immediately at the ready to cast a spell, <Archmage’s Gift> in hand and crackle with electrical energy. It’s not danger he’s bringing to your attention, though, but quite the opposite: you watch as the silvery hummingbird pinwheels and pirouettes in the breeze with Lunar weightlessness to match the leaf—the red-tinged maple leaf—floating beside him.

“<Wildshape!>”

On a whim, you join him in his aerial acrobatics. You spy other such autumnal attestations to the land reserve’s signature flora floating by. And together, you and your familiar soar the sky over rolling fields, and along familiar trade-roads, past a certain nostalgic waffle-house, until the road rises to meet you and plains turn to hillocks.

“It’s Ezreal!”

“Ezreal’s back!”

You look down to see familiar faces looking up, waving you down. You wave back, adjusting your flight-path to bring you closer to the residents of the little community you’ve made—those you’ve made a part of your life, in this place that is almost—ALMOST—home in a way that even the nostalgia of the Sylvan Realms cannot quite touch.

“Eeeezzz!”
>>
>>6105906
The moment you touch down, you are immediately scooped up into the familiar,w ell-cushioend warm of your wife’s arms.

“Hey, easy! My bones are still hollow until I transform back!” you protest through your laughter.

“Oh, like… Duh! Sorry!” Costella blushes brightly. “Sorry, I was just, like… You’re back!”

Costella sets you down, but when she goes to release you, you pull her back, and kiss her, deep and long.

“Back to stay,” you confirm.

You look over at Izzy, waiting awkwardly nearby. She is staring, so wide-eyed that you can see the crackling lights of her elementally-attuned eyes behind her smoky-grey glasses. You beckon her over, and she is at your side so quickly that you could have sworn she teleported there, if not for the force of the impact. You hold her tight s she buries her face in your neck and hair, to muffle her sobs of relief.

“I thought… I th-thought…”

You shush her, gently removing her hat and unpinning her hair, so that the bun disperses and her red-brown locks float freely, You run your fingers through her hair, stroking her scalp until she is soothed.

“But how?” she asks.

Your brow furrows a little as you remember the price: the ‘moonberries’, which must have just ripened these last few weeks while you were away, the literal fruit of years of effort. You feel some bitterness rise up in your throat like bile a you consider how to break the news… But then Costella, impatient and still excited, gloms onto the embrace, and you can’t find it in you to care.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say. “We’ll talk about it later.”

After all, even as a human, you have plenty of time. Time to explain. Time to apologize. Time to discover new wonders, or to manufacture them by magic where untamed nature fails. Time to find new ways to help the people of Old Maple Hill, and Hawksong… And The Sylvan Realms, and Bloodrise, and beyond. And even tied to all these people, and places, and obligations—or maybe BECAUSE of all these ties…

(Your eyes fall upon Costella’s abdomen, not yet ‘showing’, and yet…)

Here, with these people, you finally feel right at home.

>THE END...
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Not bad.
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>>6105908
>>6105912
>AN EPILOGUE...

“Oh Master of the Mind, All-Seeing One, I apologize”

“Why is that?”

The Nothic replies quickly, not because it does not fear reprisal, or because it does not know, but because it knows that its master—THE Master—already knows. This, then, must be a test. But of what sort? That, alas, is NOT yet known.

“The farmers, the ones tainted by the succubus, they failed to deliver us our Yosef… Our useful idiot, our willing tool.”

“Not so willing, then. But also, not important.”

This surprises the Nothic to hear, for was it not its creator who directed it to pursue this avenue? To secure for them a demon-touched scion of House Yosef, a corrupted creation of their earlier operative’s unwitting fecundity?

“You are frustrated, servant?”

“I am ignorant of a hidden truth,” says the Nothic carefully. “I am designed to know. Ignorance hurts me.”

“All understanding, all knowledge, belongs to ME. What you call ‘truth’ I call ‘leftovers’. And you will be happy with these table-scraps, YES?”

“…Of course, Oh Baleful Beholder.”

There is a dark rippling of folded spacetime, enough to make distant stars sparkle like a million mirthful eyes in the dark.

“Then have one more scrap, as a treat… And because your work, Oh Nothic, is not yet done...”

The Nothic’s great eye turns upwards towards the bleak blackness betwixt the stars, to gaze upon the true face of its creator, its master, its reason for being: The God of Knowledge, the sole owner of that comprehensive record of deeds done in darkness known as the Akashic Record of the Dark Gods.

“There are yet more Cambion bastards with the fires of Hell in their heart, and blood of Lord Yosef in their veins.”

>END
>>
So, there you have it: the end of Seekers of the Esoteric!

There are still more stories to tell with these characters, obviously, but I'm not a fan of serialized storytelling that never ends. As with Theral before them, these folks -- Ezreal, Veigar, Izirina, Ayla, Costella, Pearce, Oncyth, Nemenmo, Gabriele, Testa, and all the others will fade into the background in any future stories I tel in this setting, but I wouldn't be surprised if we see them again.

In fact, I plan on it.

I hope the ending didn't feel too forced or twee, but it seemed like a good spot to end on, with the main plot threads wrapped up. Two characters you'll FOR SURE be seeing more of are, obviously, Zith-Zi and Carazzi. I plan for one or both of them to be the main characters of the NET quest. Now, when will I start that quest?

...Uhh...


Well, I'd like to take a bit of time off, as lately I've been burnt out and I want to go into the next quest fresh. I'm currently planning something in the way of a bit shorter, more action-focused adventure, though there will be a few philosophical or emotional/introspective bits too.

With that in mind, I'd love some feedback, from any kind anons who'd like to offer it!

>How did you like the quest over all? Did you have a favourite aspect or element?

>Aside from typos, are there any major weaknesses you'd like to see me work on?
No promises, but I'll try my best

>Did you have a favourite character?

>Do you feel Tips' characterization shone through, or did he come across as just an avatar for player choices without much of a 'voice' of his own?

>Did you enjoy his relationship dynamics?

>Were there any lore aspects you hoped to have cleared up or clarified which I didn't address? Any other questions about places, characters, etc.?

>I try not to bog things down with too much 'meta-textual' stuff or artsy-fartsy 'moral of the story' stuff, but I did include some deliberate themes, literary motifs, and allusions to real world stuff here and there where I thought it was interesting; did you pick up on any of it and, if so, did it add or detract from the story for you?

And, of course...

>Do you think you'll check out Cambion Quest, when I start it up?
>>
>>6105922
>How did you like the quest over all? Did you have a favourite aspect or element ?
the relationship betweent the characters and the dice system "randomness" won over me over the threads

>Aside from typos, are there any major weaknesses you'd like to see me work on?
>No promises, but I'll try my best
just some decisions which weren't fully explained, but the last one like this was at thread 5/6 iirc so nothing major

>Did you have a favourite character?
Zizi, Tips and Costela

>Do you feel Tips' characterization shone through, or did he come across as just an avatar for player choices without much of a 'voice' of his own?
he had his own voice for a long time

>Did you enjoy his relationship dynamics?
yup, the triangle was realisticly messy

>Were there any lore aspects you hoped to have cleared up or clarified which I didn't address? Any other questions about places, characters, etc.?
it was good enough, with the mysterious bits working well.

>I try not to bog things down with too much 'meta-textual' stuff or artsy-fartsy 'moral of the story' stuff, but I did include some deliberate themes, literary motifs, and allusions to real world stuff here and there where I thought it was interesting; did you pick up on any of it and, if so, did it add or detract from the story for you?
the only irl thing that I noticed was our uncle addy's that anons pointed out as a joke that ended up being relevant but even then it was more a nod then the "real" deal in universe. other than that, it flew over my head so you can spoil me, kek

>And, of course...
>Do you think you'll check out Cambion Quest, when I start it up?
probably, unless something major happens.
>>
>>6105922

>How did you like the quest over all? Did you have a favourite aspect or element?
Decently entertaining. My favorite part would be the “dialogue boss battles” — the talk with costella & izzy, negotiations with the death cult, and anything with choice manipulation. Figuring out what spells to use in actual boss battles was also fun.

>Aside from typos, are there any major weaknesses you'd like to see me work on?
What I thought was long were too short and what I thought was short went on too long.

This mainly applies to the goblin wastes of 7-8, and the star construction in particular. It felt - really - convenient that the slavers camp had a really old, really important relic sitting there. I felt like the sand elves should’ve been the main intrigue, the mountain acting as the main hub area and going on more specific quests / getting more info there instead of a first-try stumble into the chest & rod.

The settlement with Carlos was a part I felt got cut short. There wasn’t much back-and-forth with the family and their mage. Felt like a missed opportunity for another dialogue boss battle.

Although I have noticed it less now, there were moments where the narration lingers on a topic for a while but doesn’t say much. Most recent being the council’s descriptions; you don’t say much on the details of their clothing, just what you’re - supposed - to feel when looking at them.

“Elfmaid draped in garments woven from flower petals and leaves excuses an inner glow.”
“Elf cloaked entirely in woven bark and moss.”
“His attire, adorned with interestingly un-elven accents.”

For people so important, so focused on, saying what I should feel doesn’t sell me the illusion as much as going further in-depth. I wouldn’t have minded a longer description if the accessories or clothing of each member was narrated by Tips and how - he - thinks of it. How does the dwarf guy dress so differently? Are his trousers longer or shorter than the norm? Or does he forgoes them entirely, preferring shorter breeches and hoses?

and having a sex scene with no description of the insides of cunt, creampie, penetration, position switching is crazy — especially when impregnation is the point. Same applies for 8 — no mention of creampies even though we brought contraceptives in advance is rather disappointing

>Did you have a favourite character?
Zith Zi. Cute hag & mentor.

>Do you feel Tips' characterization shone through, or did he come across as just an avatar for player choices without much of a 'voice' of his own?
He feels consistent, although I can think of a few moments where he flip flops a lot because the player votes flip flops a lot. Mainly the decision to kill Banelight and following through with it.
>>
>>6105979

>Did you enjoy his relationship dynamics?
They are interesting. Costella is nice. A little too nice for her own good, but entertaining nontheless. Izzy - being the menhera she is - does make it unnecessarily difficult for me to like her. I never liked the decision to attune Izzy to Costella; she never liked her sexually to begin with. Another lie to support something more useful, I suppose.

Polygamy is a hard thing. That much is conveyed well, and I appreciate it.

>Were there any lore aspects you hoped to have cleared up or clarified which I didn't address? Any other questions about places, characters, etc.?
I don’t really care much about the deities and whatnot, and I suspect the doings of Zithzi and Carazzi will be explained later, anywayz

>I try not to bog things down with too much 'meta-textual' stuff or artsy-fartsy 'moral of the story' stuff, but I did include some deliberate themes, literary motifs, and allusions to real world stuff here and there where I thought it was interesting; did you pick up on any of it and, if so, did it add or detract from the story for you?
I can’t be fucked to list all the irl influence I think you might’ve added right now, but I notice a recurring them of “things being used and discarded because they’re not useful to the government right now.”

The goblin town in hawksong. The whole journey to get the prince and its fallout. Banelight’s star. Costella. (From Izzy’s POV.)

And, of course...

>Do you think you'll check out Cambion Quest, when I start it up?
Never say never.
>>
Thanks for running.
Sadly, a bit burned out on my side too - too much to answer the block of question. I'll try to get to it when I'm better.
>>
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>>6105946
>Cousin Addy
More of a throwaway reference, though certain choices would have seen him doing things like attacking the Hill or Tower, or staging a revolt on the Hill. He's just very easily worked up by foreign or non-human things.

>>6105979
>Pacing
Probably the hardest thing for me in this format, since I atruggle to keep things rolling briskly without feeling like I'm leaving out parts people want to see more of or (worse) railroading everyone.

>the council
If you'd opted for a less cooperative approach, you would have seen a bit more of their personalities (if not necessarily their outfits) as you tried to win some over with particular arguments.

>creampie fetish
Based, but I really don't set out to write smut (whatwver that one prude-anon in the QTG might say), and even the pastebin was just to avoid another Volume 8 situation, not because I wanted yo be especially pornographic. Not thay there's anything wrong with that, obviously, but it's not what I'm trying to do here.

>>6105981
>“things being used and discarded because they’re not useful to the government right now.”
Yeah, I could see it! I was going for more of a theme of national and religious myth-making leaving out the unpleasant and unflattering bits, bit the two have a lot of overlap.

>>6106075
Sorry to hear it, Doc. Feel better soon, eh?

>>All of y'all
I hope you enjoy this Ayla almost as much as Veigar is in the Orient kek, courtesy of lonelyweirdcat. Thanks again for playing!
>>
>>6105922
>How did you like the quest over all? Did you have a favourite aspect or element?
Liked it, especially the elf variety

>Did you have a favourite character?
Ezreal himself?

>Do you feel Tips' characterization shone through, or did he come across as just an avatar for player choices without much of a 'voice' of his own?
Somewhat, it could have been more apparent

>Did you enjoy his relationship dynamics?
Yes

>Do you think you'll check out Cambion Quest, when I start it up?
Yes
>>
>>6106455
Thanks for playing as well!

>the elf variety
You mean you're a big fan of the Fey lore?
>>
>>6107068
More all the facets of elf society as seen in this post
>>6102232
The celestial priests, the Rangers, the Kuttralas Cult, others we never even saw...They were very fleshed out despite our regrettably low levels of interaction with them.
>>
>>6107102
I'm curious how you feel about the other elven societies seen: the Ashurati and Drow?
>>
>>6107105
Ashurati were cool
Drow are miserable creatures of darkness
>>
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>>6107119
bodes ill for the sort of elfiness you'll likely run into in Cambion Quest...
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>>6107268
Never mind on checking out Cambion Quest then

jk :^)
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>>6107635
Shame that...

>>6105912
>>6105946
>>6105979
>>6106075
>>6106455
It just dropped.

>>6114062



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