Juniper Blue!
This is the most chaotic, most frantic deployment that the Watch has ever performed. The big guns are being wheeled out of containment: the Chaos Cannon, the Devil Swords, the Wheel of Truth, the Glass-Eating Swarm, the Howling Typhoon (bottled), and the Seventy-Seven Heresies. The returning troops from Ilumina are being deployed in concentric circles around the Clocktower, supplemented by the garrison who remained bringing out the cursed treasures of the Watch, every thing they confiscated to keep Hyperborea safe.
The worst part?
Nobody will tell you why you're doing this. This is worse than the deployment for the Snake-Husband: you are bringing out everything. Whatever is in that Clocktower has been judged to be the most dangerous thing that the Watch has ever faced, and you really hope that it doesn't end up being the princesses who helped save the Bazaar last time. Sure, they might have failed, they might have caused Shazari to end up buried with the Snake-Husband beneath the sands, but they were good girls. They don't deserve to be obliterated with extreme prejudice.
"Any idea what they're after, cousin?"
"Some treasure from old Hyperborea that Ourania's told them to contain."
Your irregulars lounge behind you: the King of the Bazaar and the Konkon princess. The King's got his nose to the wind, and knows that if you're all up in arms-- or, at least, if the fox is asking for his help-- it's time to get the crime families of the Bazaar out in force beside you. There is nothing on Hyperborea that will be able to defeat this coalition. At least, that's what you desperately hope.
That's when the clocks all begin to chime. All at once.
Arms pour out of the clock face that the Chaos Cannon is aimed at, each one grotesquely long-fingered and clad in shimmering sleeves like oil slicks on a river. They just keep coming. Someone's screaming for the cannon to fire. It might be you. You can't really tell. Why aren't you all synchronizing? Why aren't you all one mind, one arm, one Watch? What's the delay?
The cannon roars and eats sound itself, hurling up a multi-colored ball of raw chaos. Anything that it hits will be scrambled and unmade. It's too dangerous to ever be used against a target except in circumstances just like this. Anything to stop those arms grabbing at the Bazaar, to stop the things sliding down them, to stop the giant glass dragon with its ridiculous googly eyes unfolding out of one of those many palms, to stop the way those nails dug at the earth and tore at the sky.
Seven hands make an intricate pattern, a ritual circle, and the Chaos Cannon's shot fizzles out completely in midair. And then, for good measure, the cannon unfolds into a giant rosebush covered in magenta roses.
You're not synchronizing. You're alone and the weapons of the Watch are failing. You need... what does the Operations Manual say? You need to fall back and gather intel. Once you have identified a weakness, strike it with overwhelming force.
"King," you scream over the chaos. "Get word out! Everyone is to retreat to the redoubts! Pull back! Pull--"
***
The Bazaar!
You are touched and pinched and prodded by Eupheria, her many arms rubbing your streets in a very forward manner, even as she emerges from her dungeon surrounded in the glory of her subjects, spinning the Caduceus playfully, and tries to decide what she's going to do with you.
And this is what she discovers: that you are Hyperborea in miniature.
You are the melting pot of a dozen kingdoms. Only here do the flowers of Feloria bloom beside the mushrooms of Deep Hollow and the redwoods of Axonia. Only here does Iluminan glass adorn Jedadi gold, and only here do the goblin toys of Hobling Keep play beside the golden trinkets of the dryads, the shell-art of the mermaids, the incense packets of the Askaians promising incredible dreams come true, and the silk ropes of the Konkon. This is Hyperborea, hidden behind curtains and in cellars, on display on the beautiful streets, auctioned off on the rooftops, stolen and lost and rescued and won a hundred times every hour.
So Eupheria does not erase you from the face of Hyperborea. Instead she takes you, every part of you, and folds you in on yourself. She heaps you up into a mountain winding up to her new Argossa, still chiming, growing clock-branches in mimicry of the stone-tree at the center of the world. She hollows you out and turns your cellars into dungeons, your streets into mazes, your gardens into jungles, and makes of you her Labyrinth.
Then she releases her children into you, made wonderful and strange! Her gremlins, parodies of the cats who roam your back alleys, eyeless and bouncing and hungry. Her glass knights, deer-headed mockeries of the Rowani, centaurs with such terrible claws. Her pixies, mirror-headed mimics of the goblins, flitting here and there on their dragonfly wings, showing everyone what Eupheria wants them to see, showing Eupheria what everyone is up to in turn. Her rose-headed spriggans, her slinking silk Dancing Dolls, her merrows and pookas and kelpies and kobolds, all run rampant through your streets! The Nightmare Army has been unleashed again, and soon enough, Eupheria means to see them spread through all Hyperborea. Aren't you so lucky to be first?
***
Adila!
You bounce when you land and nearly end up falling off the mushroom. You really don't want to fall off the mushroom.
You're in a vast cavern, one you might recognize from stories you've heard about Deep Hollow. Mushrooms the size of trees, the size of buildings, rise from the misty depths of whatever lies below. Mushrooms grow on top of mushrooms. The colors are surprisingly varied: red and white, of course, and murky brown, but also lacy white, bruised violet, pitch black...
"Now, we can't have you cheating. That's what you were always best at, after all. How did I not see it?"
Eupheria's sitting on the Caduceus, hovering in the air next to you, one leg slung carelessly over the other. She's wearing the kind of dress she'd wear back when you had victory banquets, covered in frills and folds, every one of them nauseatingly shifting and changing hues.
"You're special. None of the rules apply to you. Well, here's a rule: NO FLYING."
She snaps her fingers, and your wings are crushed against your sides by a tight corset. It is Uncomfortable. Like, your wings aren't in a dangerous position, but it's messing with your balance and it's going to get sore very fast.
"There we go! Now you can have a proper challenge for once."
Okay. There's definitely a way out, and you'll be able to see it up if you get up to a higher mushroom. The only trick is going to be getting up there, but Euphie likes to pretend she's playing fair. And... she's watching you. Which is definitely adding to the pressure.
***
Mittens!
You drop onto the conveyor belt. All around you are the hissing, clanking sounds of a goblin factory, and the buzzing of pixie wings. You look up, trying to get your bearings so that you can focus on luring the snakerchief out of your mouth, and realize that you are headed straight into a series of machines slamming together with princess-sized molds and manacles. If you end up there, it's as good as an immediate game over.
Think, think! On the left side, there's a lot of railings and chains dangling from the ceiling over the vast and smoky pit. If you manage to swing from one to another, you might be able to get out of here, or at the very least catch your breath. But on the right side, while there are a lot fewer chains spaced further apart, making it imperative that you get your acrobatics perfect, there's also -- up near the ceiling, set into a fire alarm -- a twinkling light. One of yours. Which one?
Pick! Pick now!
And if you pick the right side, make your Get Away roll with Despair.
***
Kazelia!
You drop into the foliage and hit every single branch on your way down. It is a disaster. By the time you land in the vines, you are bruised and out of breath. And... the vines are starting to constrict around you. Oh boy. Looks like Eupheria wasn't impressed by your rules lawyering.
Okay, time to check your surroundings. You're in the middle of what seems to be an enormous greenhouse? There's rustling in the bushes below, but there's also a trail and, hey, if this a greenhouse, maybe you'll get lucky and find a gardener!
Or maybe you'll just be eaten by this Axonian Princesstrap, which is much too close for comfort, snapping its leafy jaws as it strains against its roots to catch your foot. Another moment or two, and it might just catch you and then start dragging you in with its slimy tongue.
This is the most chaotic, most frantic deployment that the Watch has ever performed. The big guns are being wheeled out of containment: the Chaos Cannon, the Devil Swords, the Wheel of Truth, the Glass-Eating Swarm, the Howling Typhoon (bottled), and the Seventy-Seven Heresies. The returning troops from Ilumina are being deployed in concentric circles around the Clocktower, supplemented by the garrison who remained bringing out the cursed treasures of the Watch, every thing they confiscated to keep Hyperborea safe.
The worst part?
Nobody will tell you why you're doing this. This is worse than the deployment for the Snake-Husband: you are bringing out everything. Whatever is in that Clocktower has been judged to be the most dangerous thing that the Watch has ever faced, and you really hope that it doesn't end up being the princesses who helped save the Bazaar last time. Sure, they might have failed, they might have caused Shazari to end up buried with the Snake-Husband beneath the sands, but they were good girls. They don't deserve to be obliterated with extreme prejudice.
"Any idea what they're after, cousin?"
"Some treasure from old Hyperborea that Ourania's told them to contain."
Your irregulars lounge behind you: the King of the Bazaar and the Konkon princess. The King's got his nose to the wind, and knows that if you're all up in arms-- or, at least, if the fox is asking for his help-- it's time to get the crime families of the Bazaar out in force beside you. There is nothing on Hyperborea that will be able to defeat this coalition. At least, that's what you desperately hope.
That's when the clocks all begin to chime. All at once.
Arms pour out of the clock face that the Chaos Cannon is aimed at, each one grotesquely long-fingered and clad in shimmering sleeves like oil slicks on a river. They just keep coming. Someone's screaming for the cannon to fire. It might be you. You can't really tell. Why aren't you all synchronizing? Why aren't you all one mind, one arm, one Watch? What's the delay?
The cannon roars and eats sound itself, hurling up a multi-colored ball of raw chaos. Anything that it hits will be scrambled and unmade. It's too dangerous to ever be used against a target except in circumstances just like this. Anything to stop those arms grabbing at the Bazaar, to stop the things sliding down them, to stop the giant glass dragon with its ridiculous googly eyes unfolding out of one of those many palms, to stop the way those nails dug at the earth and tore at the sky.
Seven hands make an intricate pattern, a ritual circle, and the Chaos Cannon's shot fizzles out completely in midair. And then, for good measure, the cannon unfolds into a giant rosebush covered in magenta roses.
You're not synchronizing. You're alone and the weapons of the Watch are failing. You need... what does the Operations Manual say? You need to fall back and gather intel. Once you have identified a weakness, strike it with overwhelming force.
"King," you scream over the chaos. "Get word out! Everyone is to retreat to the redoubts! Pull back! Pull--"
***
The Bazaar!
You are touched and pinched and prodded by Eupheria, her many arms rubbing your streets in a very forward manner, even as she emerges from her dungeon surrounded in the glory of her subjects, spinning the Caduceus playfully, and tries to decide what she's going to do with you.
And this is what she discovers: that you are Hyperborea in miniature.
You are the melting pot of a dozen kingdoms. Only here do the flowers of Feloria bloom beside the mushrooms of Deep Hollow and the redwoods of Axonia. Only here does Iluminan glass adorn Jedadi gold, and only here do the goblin toys of Hobling Keep play beside the golden trinkets of the dryads, the shell-art of the mermaids, the incense packets of the Askaians promising incredible dreams come true, and the silk ropes of the Konkon. This is Hyperborea, hidden behind curtains and in cellars, on display on the beautiful streets, auctioned off on the rooftops, stolen and lost and rescued and won a hundred times every hour.
So Eupheria does not erase you from the face of Hyperborea. Instead she takes you, every part of you, and folds you in on yourself. She heaps you up into a mountain winding up to her new Argossa, still chiming, growing clock-branches in mimicry of the stone-tree at the center of the world. She hollows you out and turns your cellars into dungeons, your streets into mazes, your gardens into jungles, and makes of you her Labyrinth.
Then she releases her children into you, made wonderful and strange! Her gremlins, parodies of the cats who roam your back alleys, eyeless and bouncing and hungry. Her glass knights, deer-headed mockeries of the Rowani, centaurs with such terrible claws. Her pixies, mirror-headed mimics of the goblins, flitting here and there on their dragonfly wings, showing everyone what Eupheria wants them to see, showing Eupheria what everyone is up to in turn. Her rose-headed spriggans, her slinking silk Dancing Dolls, her merrows and pookas and kelpies and kobolds, all run rampant through your streets! The Nightmare Army has been unleashed again, and soon enough, Eupheria means to see them spread through all Hyperborea. Aren't you so lucky to be first?
***
Adila!
You bounce when you land and nearly end up falling off the mushroom. You really don't want to fall off the mushroom.
You're in a vast cavern, one you might recognize from stories you've heard about Deep Hollow. Mushrooms the size of trees, the size of buildings, rise from the misty depths of whatever lies below. Mushrooms grow on top of mushrooms. The colors are surprisingly varied: red and white, of course, and murky brown, but also lacy white, bruised violet, pitch black...
"Now, we can't have you cheating. That's what you were always best at, after all. How did I not see it?"
Eupheria's sitting on the Caduceus, hovering in the air next to you, one leg slung carelessly over the other. She's wearing the kind of dress she'd wear back when you had victory banquets, covered in frills and folds, every one of them nauseatingly shifting and changing hues.
"You're special. None of the rules apply to you. Well, here's a rule: NO FLYING."
She snaps her fingers, and your wings are crushed against your sides by a tight corset. It is Uncomfortable. Like, your wings aren't in a dangerous position, but it's messing with your balance and it's going to get sore very fast.
"There we go! Now you can have a proper challenge for once."
Okay. There's definitely a way out, and you'll be able to see it up if you get up to a higher mushroom. The only trick is going to be getting up there, but Euphie likes to pretend she's playing fair. And... she's watching you. Which is definitely adding to the pressure.
***
Mittens!
You drop onto the conveyor belt. All around you are the hissing, clanking sounds of a goblin factory, and the buzzing of pixie wings. You look up, trying to get your bearings so that you can focus on luring the snakerchief out of your mouth, and realize that you are headed straight into a series of machines slamming together with princess-sized molds and manacles. If you end up there, it's as good as an immediate game over.
Think, think! On the left side, there's a lot of railings and chains dangling from the ceiling over the vast and smoky pit. If you manage to swing from one to another, you might be able to get out of here, or at the very least catch your breath. But on the right side, while there are a lot fewer chains spaced further apart, making it imperative that you get your acrobatics perfect, there's also -- up near the ceiling, set into a fire alarm -- a twinkling light. One of yours. Which one?
Pick! Pick now!
And if you pick the right side, make your Get Away roll with Despair.
***
Kazelia!
You drop into the foliage and hit every single branch on your way down. It is a disaster. By the time you land in the vines, you are bruised and out of breath. And... the vines are starting to constrict around you. Oh boy. Looks like Eupheria wasn't impressed by your rules lawyering.
Okay, time to check your surroundings. You're in the middle of what seems to be an enormous greenhouse? There's rustling in the bushes below, but there's also a trail and, hey, if this a greenhouse, maybe you'll get lucky and find a gardener!
Or maybe you'll just be eaten by this Axonian Princesstrap, which is much too close for comfort, snapping its leafy jaws as it strains against its roots to catch your foot. Another moment or two, and it might just catch you and then start dragging you in with its slimy tongue.
