Anarion

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

"I don't...gah, gah!" Giriel manages when the General has departed and they can no longer feel his presence. "What did we do Peri? And what are they doing? Wasn't Ven the name of one of the princesses when we were kids? The one from the kingdom that fell, that must be what he was talking about right? But why would she do this? Aren't princesses supposed to have a court with advisors and all that even when they're in exile?"

Giriel is blabbering. Trying to figure out what exiled princesses ought to be doing with their time is hardly the most important thing they could be doing at this moment (it doesn't crest the top five even!) and she doubts that Peregrine would particularly care at this moment. But she needs to just talk and not about the experience they just had, NOT about all those hands and arms and the slag heap that Tichtokh crawled through. Anything but that, in fact.

She takes a deep breath and reins herself in from launching into a full dialogue on the best dresses for the fashionable princess in exile. "How much do we need to get back to our bodies, do you think? Can we afford to go straight to the castle with this demon-summoning princess? And uh, what did the General mean by 'pick up our meat' Peri?"

Sunshards

Because she recognizes the stance, Chen has just enough time to think gratefully about all the anime she's seen as the electrical energy strikes her. She rolls with the force and though she doesn't fly under her own power, her landing in the arena is not the graceless thud of someone caught flat-footed, but instead the rolling flurry of poofy skirts and squeaks befitting of a little princess such as herself.

She comes to her feet breathless and, despite the gravity of the proclamation, smiling like Yue's best sunshine from ear to ear. She's not mocking Keron though, no no no, perish the thought! She's just, she's excited, that's all. She's smiling like she smiled when she knew she was going to lose to Rose that first time. Smiling like she did the day she held her first training sword and the weight in her hands just felt so right! Because, well, when it came down to it Princess Chen really didn't mind getting flung around a bit when she was having fun. Not even a little.

She looks over at Yue, halfway transformed back to a fluffy tea-color wolf, and to Tianic who seemed brilliant but not at all up to throwing herself into electrical laser fields. She's still got that silly this is gonna be great grin on her face, and maybe, hopefully, they understand from seeing her that it's okay, they're not expected to hurt themselves for this fight. If she were really going all out to defeat Keron, she'd have dropped in with a full team, rested, refreshed, equipped with all sorts of neat gear and blessings from their loved ones, and at maximum power from having worked out all their personal conflicts before the big fight.

But she never was here to go all out to defeat Keron. She came because she had to issue this challenge for both Rose and herself. But she'd been thinking about conceding or throwing partway through even before Rose had dropped the girlfriend confirmation bombshell and made her fantasize about training with her new slave and handmaid. She wasn't trying to conquer the Sky Castle, or ruin Keron's reputation out of the blue in front of an audience. Then who would defend all the other handmaidens and servants? Chen's realization from all that time with Jessic was that she had her own vision, but she wasn't out to steal it from somebody else. She was here to help them live their vision.

She let the smile at last turn to a serious face and set her sword stance: blade pointing towards Keron and hilt high gripped in two hands above the shoulder. From this reactive position, Chen could strike quickly or turn into a parry. She at last looked up at Keron and offered her not a bow but a respectful nod and dip of her sword. Because Keron might be demanding that Chen bow to her knees, but the thing about tyrants that every story agreed on was that brave princesses never just gave up when facing them. Especially when they were overmatched. How else was Keron going to get to show off those laser gauntlets properly, gosh!

"I might" she said, putting her weight on the balls of her feet to be ready to move the instant Keron unleashed her next attack. "But not before I try and rescue my girlfriend!"

Dark Age (playtest): The Lands of Pendragon

All

It is, as it always is, the unlikeliest chance that things should be as they are. That you should be here. That Hector should have smiled at Tristan and held onto a ray of hope of things never done. That Constance may have smiled in a secret night too dark by her direction for anyone to see it. That Robena may have gone to bed and perhaps, just perhaps, smiled when she reflected on her own choice.

The final day of hunts does not greet you merrily, but with a growl. Sleet-thick winds strike at the castle stones and batter the windows. The clouds are gray and menacing, the sun a distant glow behind them, little more than a hint that it exists. The trees creek and crack, the snow crackles, and there is no sign of life or movement, though the scouts nevertheless went out before danw to find the boar trail.

And yet...the full downpour holds itself in abeyance. Or is held, perhaps? Who could say what confluence of powers is at war in the heavens, after all?

Robena

You are met at dawn, such as it is, by Sir Hector. Though she has been loathe to speak with you to date, she stands before your room politely while you ready yourself. She already wears her own hunting gear: a long fur cape over her armor, a greatbow slung over her back and a great boar-spear with its high hilt held in one hand. She has prepared a sharpened boar spear for your use as well, held cautiously away from you in her other hand. For today is the boar hunt. The boar stands as the symbol of endurance and ferocious power. It has always been the pinnacle of the hunt. Not cunning or villainous, not fast, never lithe. But powerful, dangerous, and fighting to the last. The spear that Hector presents you is unadorned, but of the highest quality, with a good firm grip wrapped in leather and a point that does not show a single flaw upon it. This is a fine compliment, and one that you would not know what you have done to deserve. It is, after all, a favor to Tristan, not to you.

How do you ready yourself for the final hunt on this harsh day?

Constance, Tristan
You are permitted, if you wish it, to sleep in. The castle is focused on Robena's last hunt, and for the early morning there is nothing else to be done. It is dark, gray, and entirely unlike a day anyone would wish to rise to meet. But you can wake, if you wish, and bathe or chat. Or you can wait, and go to see the lady Sauvage when she calls upon you mid-morning. She will not be joining the hunt at all this day, not even from a distance, and wishes instead to see you.

This is a fell thing, for she has doffed most of her humanity on this last day. Her dress is a somber blueish gray, and her skin has faded to match. Her mouth is pursed, and her hands look almost as stone perched on the gilded sides of her throne. Her doom and with it the last remnants of her existence, is coming to an end. Perhaps the weather is a reflection of her mood. Or one that combats her?

Regardless, she turns with the barest of motions, not to Constance, but to Tristan first. "Most unexpected" she says, her face nearly still save for her lips blue with cold. "What...do you think of the knights I have gathered here?"

Is that, perhaps, the smallest of smiles at the edge of her lips? What an unlikely chance.

Sunshards

Your Rose

The words arc like lightning through Chen. Hers. Her Rose. She blushes as the thought rushes through her. Rose agreed, they were girlfriends, she hadn't made a mistake! She had thought pretty hard, she thought she was right, but all the time in her mind there had been that niggling little fear that maybe she had made a mistake and this would all fall apart even as she'd imagined herself the hero. Part of her wanted to just collapse into a puddle and drape herself all about this new look Rose until the two of them were so bundled together you could barely tell whose limbs went where.

A thousand scenarios flashed quickly through Chen's mind, each more exciting than the last. She blushed and despite herself she wiggled a little under Rose's gaze as she imagined what they could do. As Yue might say, oh gosh, goshies!

But! But but but, she's got to pull off the daring rescue first, then she can carry off her girlfriend to...somewhere in the sky castle probably, where they can have some privacy and ask a million questions and hug and...and oh gosh. Oh gosh. Was she going to carry Rose in this state? And then tie her up and and...eep! Focus!

Well, she would focus, but before Chen can properly issue any sort of challenge to Countess Keron, the entire audience is taken with the spectacle upon the field. Chen offers a silent prayer of thanks to Yue and this incredibly beautiful duel for allowing her to collect herself and...hells was that painter on the field painting mandalas?

For a moment, Chen's attention was entirely on the duel. This was incredible. Yue had been running about as a wolf, but she'd turned back into a girl (uh...what?) and she'd pulled her opponent out of her stance and asked her to show off something incredible. This was...this was it. A little piece of what Jessic had been talking about. She'd said: If you don't love your opponent, at least a little bit, it's not a duel, it's just a fight. And fights are ugly. Chen understood a little piece of that advice better in this moment. If she'd been fighting this squire Tianic, she could have simply moved faster than Tianic seemed able to move her big sword. Chen could see that duel in her mind's eye. She'd step forward, feint, then Tianic would swing and Chen would take one more step and lean a little forward and the sword would miss her, placing her inside Tianic's guard. Her own blade would make one decisive cut and stop short of doing any harm, and the duel would be called in her favor. But, what would that even accomplish? At best, someone in the audience would be a technical aficionado and would appreciate the lesson in efficiency, but most people wouldn't even have the time to get excited. And Tianic would have been crushed, embarrassed to have even entered. It wouldn't make Chen look good, it would just make her a bully.

Instead, Yue had embraced this. She'd pushed Tianic to show off her own style and what they were seeing was an incredible and fleeting beauty from an inspired creator. It didn't matter if it was fast or slow, it mattered that it was beautiful, that Tianic's heart was singing to everyone assembled as she painted swirling mandalas with her sword. And it mattered that Yue was dancing with her, inspiring and being inspired, playing and leaping and sparkling like so much radiance that Tianic couldn't help but play off her. The whirling, intricate duel was a wolf mandala that could only be made here, like this, and it never would have existed at all if they hadn't worked together to bring it out.

Chen is crying as the duel comes to its end. Not a lot, in fact she doesn't even notice until a little drop of salty water catches on the edge of her lips and touches her tongue. But she is crying because she's just seen something breathtaking, something that had no right to ever have existed yet did it anyway. She wants to preserve it forever as she saw it, she's never been more inspired to paint something than this moment, not by any sunset or waterfall gorgeous though they were.

But that too, is not for this moment. And so, as the sword leaves the chin, and Yue and Tianic have their heart to heart, and Yue finds herself a little more milk tea fluffy than just her hair, the attention turns back to Chen, who's standing, so close to Rose, to Keron. People around them are noticing that. There's something else about to happen.

Chen turns to Keron. First she sniffles and wipes her eyes. Then, for once unperturbed by showing her feelings, she holds her own sword out formally. "Countess Keron, I challenge you for the freedom of your captive, Rose from the River"

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

What...what in Creation did Giriel want in this moment? She was scared, awestruck. Her immediate wish was to go back, to return to more familiar grounds. But could she ask for that? The General claimed any boon at all, but when someone said anything what they often meant was something they thought a person ought to ask for in this sort of situation and it was far from anything.

And was asking to return to their bodies thinking too small? Here was an opportunity to learn about a real threat. Those veils the General was holding had come from somewhere. Perhaps Peregrine was right, and she should ask for instruction. That could prepare them for what was to come and the General would surely lose interest after a brief while, leaving them to make their own exit.

Or was there some other request she ought to be making? Some boon of magic that would enable her to protect the flower kingdoms? Some lost secret or forgotten knowledge that would change the world? A chance to see the people she cared about, to speak with her grandfather who she missed dearly or to return to Cathak Agata triumphant and learn more about what those little teeth could do when the Red Wolf was in a good mood?

No, of course not. Demons were dangerous. If you bared your heart, they might take it and twist it. Possibly even by accident. Even Peregrine was being a fool, the shine in her eyes betraying that she wanted to learn, wanted to study so badly. They would break her on that though it might take them a lifetime to do it. Giriel feared the reproach she would see in those eyes, for Peregrine was insatiable.

"I would ask for knowledge, lord. Before you send us off to the Prince. Of..." What? Was she just doing what Peregrine wanted? No, Peregrine wanted tutelage, but Giriel wanted something more practical. Her mother had always said that for all the great rituals, the best magic was good food and a warm hearth. "...of the Prince and her plans. We have been away from the main front and do not know how we can best serve. Please tell us about her before we depart, of the forces we will support and of the magic she wields."

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

B-big! Big! Giant demon general! Oh creation, oh oh, what was she going to do? What had she done?!

For a brief instant, Giriel's senses fled her entirely and she was simply convinced that she was going to die. No amount of images in books, or scale illustrations with tiny stick figures for scale and descriptions of strengths, weaknesses, and magical sympathies actually prepared a person to stand before a great demon with a hundred hands whose voice is the sonorous thunder of that which should not be in such a place! She could not speak, could not think, could not be quail and wonder at how she had brought herself to die.

A moment passes. Giriel feels the presence of Peregrine at her side, rehearsing...something? Was she going to try and cast a spell at this thing. Or...an augury like it was asking? It was asking for an augury was it not? Or was it expecting them to have already done an augury perhaps? Would attempting a working now be viewed as untoward? Did Peregrine even care? No probably not, probably she was simply curious whether a binding seal would work cast via a transposed soul manifesting in hell and was either fully convinced in her technique or fully prepared to die for the pursuit of knowledge. Knowing her, she had a plan for someone to offer their body as a vessel for her in a year or two so she could get back to work undisturbed while everyone thought she was dead.

That was not a helpful line of thought and still they were being met with expectation. How much time had passed? Probably a year? Or 30 seconds as the creature cut off itself and waved about blue veils as though showing off its grisly trophies would win them over to its cause.

"The symbols are the stone and the sickle!" Giriel blurts out. "The burning stone is your symbol of victory and the sickle your symbol of battle. For...for it is the place of your armies to reap where they go and leave a harvest of flame upon the world. You should be wary of the...uh the dragon and the stag because of...um the dragons opposing your forces and the stag preventing your march, who will, uh, probably unite to defeat your armies?"

Oh gosh, that was the worst, the absolute worst generic read she'd ever made and she'd actually been so uninventive that she'd tipped the demon off to two actual major forces in the area if it was paying attention.

[Defy Disaster with wits. Giriel was willing to sacrifice information about Red Wolf and Uusha to the demons. 1+1+2=4. Snake eyes XP]

Dark Age (playtest): The Lands of Pendragon

Tristan

Sir Hector gives you a long, thoughtful look. She's very seriously thinking about your question. Isn't that freeing? Perhaps she hasn't considered it before, being wrapped in a responsibility she believed she had. Perhaps she simply wants to give you the respect of taking in what you're saying and not responding instantly as though your words offered nothing new.

After a long moment, though, she says "no."

It is a soft, quiet no. The sort of no that is at once tentative and yet utterly certain.

It then is followed then by a firmer one. "No. It is not freeing, not for me. I can see what you mean. Almost like looking at a distant field." For a moment her face is wistful before it falls. "But no. I wanted greatness of a sort. I wanted to use everything that I learned, everything I trained for. Instead I am not chosen. To wish for responsibility and not to receive it is a special kind of agony."

She goes silent and looks to you to respond. In all the time you've been in the castle, you've never heard her that poetic. You might have called her thoughtful and even insightful, but not poetic. This is an odd glimpse beyond the veil, and she does not know what you'll do with it. You could deny her in this moment, perhaps; judge everything she believes wrong and broken and she would have no rejoinder to offer. You could offer her support and comfort, perhaps more than she has ever received. Or perhaps...perhaps this is a moment for you to decide what you came to this castle to do, Tristan.

TSL: The Excess of Flowers

The thing about demons is that you shouldn't consort with demons! There's a reason that it's common knowledge not to do that. Demons will hurt you. Not that they'll claw you or bite you. They might do that, but that sort of thing is the easiest to guard against. No it's that demons are beings that aren't right with the world. That's the core of Malfeas and Adorjan and all the way down through circles and circles of existence down to the smallest little imp. These are beings that don't want this world, this version of creation to exist as it is. The old and lost lords lamenting all the cracks and flaws they see in the sculpture. If you stay with them long enough, let them have their way with things in word and deed, they'll try to chip at the statue. Make a few alterations to bring it closer in line with what they want. Maybe put in some new cracks because really the whole thing ought to come down so they can start from scratch.

And the thing about demons, to keep this statue metaphor going, is that they'll keep at it like a chisel against reality. Sure, you can defend against that. You can build sturdy and strong, you can put up guards and wards, barriers and protections and all sorts of rules to keep yourself safe. And that works to a point. But we're talking about a chisel against reality. You always have to be asking, is your barrier set up to handle one strike? Ten? Fifty? Five hundred thousand? Is it set up to handle every different sort of strike from every angle, every speed and force and variation in movement?

In a lot of ways, Giriel wasn't worried about Peregrine. She was a genius. The sort of person who really did think of everything and took the right precautions. And if you were going to be a proper witch, you had to take these risks. You couldn't just write off demons and say "well, that's a bad plan, guess I'll never deal with them" because other people were going to do it and you needed to know how to handle them. Sometimes there was even something worse happening and you needed the power and the risk to get the job done. Not often, not nearly as often as people seemed to think, but sometimes. So, in most ways Peregrine was well within bounds, highly skilled, entirely reliable. But in one very important way, Giriel was incredibly worried and had been for a while now: hubris. Peregrine was always pushing, testing new theories and ideas and plans. It only took one mistake for big problems when it came to demons and so Giriel always approached this sort of thing with trepidation.

Also, there was the fact that demons weren't dogs despite how some people treated them. They were thinking, sapient beings, especially some of the higher circle ones, who were smarter than the vast majority of people. If you pulled one of those into your service, even if you did it perfectly, they would pay attention the whole time. Your deeds might become rumors in hell, you might become a subject of interest to hell. That was, as one might expect, a very bad thing to have happen.

And yet! Peregrine could not be stopped, Uusha could not be convinced, and there was a real problem out there that had led Giriel to bring this all up at all. So what other choice was there? The only choice, the only option for a proper witch was to lean into it, to make sure the ritual went off as well as could be, to understand that it was Malfeas, to know the shape of its powers, and so to call on its demons with power and authority.

So Giriel joined Peregrine in the work. She drew the proper circles and the binding runes and checked them over, and checked Peregrine's and asked Peregrine to check hers. She tuned her flute and checked her sound. However, the key to the actual sorcery, despite what most dabblers thought, was not complex runes or having just the right sort of instrument. It was focus and will. Sorcery, the binding of demons especially, was an act of will. The ritual created the right signs and symbols to tell the universe what you were doing, and it got you the demon you wanted. A good flute made sure that the demon could hear what you were doing much more clearly than if you had to work with an improvised reed and that was important! But more important by far was that the effort focused the caster's will.

When it came time, Giriel played her flute in tandem with Peregrine's, and the two sounds coalesced through the cave where they had set up the summoning and echoed deep beyond the mountain.

And yet, despite all the preparation, the care, and the timing, it seemed that something had gone awry.
[Giriel offers a string to a demon of Malfeas and rolls to commune. 1+3+2=6. A miss and an experience.]

Sunshards

When you are a Princess in a domain of flight, there is no such thing as being unobtrusive. A beautiful lesson in Jessic's story, and in Keron's. For that matter, why should a princess be unobtrusive anyway? She may, perhaps, have the humility to respect the fighters and the fight itself, but so too should she respect the fighters for their skill, their talent, and their focus. She should not assume that they are so delicate and easily distracted from their duel that she has to creep in unannounced.

So it is that Chen's flight is remarked upon, and though she blushes to be such a center of attention, it is not her place to enter with stealth, but to be a Princess for all assembled. And this task, to be seen, to be resplendent, she can do. She can do it in the way the sun and moon dance in the sky above her and shine their light through her crystal blade, illuminating her to the audience in rose gold and gleaming silver. She can do it in the way that the wind lifts her hair and swirls her dress, carrying her in its embrace as it speaks to the watchers of euphoria, the rush of speed and freedom of flight. And Chen can do it in contrast, at once so alike and so different from Princess Jessic just as a dagger differs from a greatsword.

For a moment, Chen does remember her mothers and her conflicts and all the things that await her. But for this moment, she sets aside those heavy matters and remembers them fondly. Could she have held herself under such attention without collapsing into a flushed mess had Hestia not encouraged her poise and Ysel her grace? There is something they offered her, and a great deal about which they cared, even if they might well have grasped too hard at their own visions as Jessic had put it so well.

For a moment, Chen simply lounges atop her sword above the stands. She glances at where she had planned to sit with an amused smile and resolves to visit those children when she can and then turns her attention to the match. Let Keron prepare herself, they weren't going to have a fight before this duel was done.

And what a duel! Chen had the true good fortune to watch Yue the wolf become Yue the girl in an explosion of colorful fabric and tea-color hair. She got to watch Yue change her style in the midst of the duel and continue to run about wagging her tail despite a lack of any one being visible. To see squire Tianic swinging her sword in glorious mandalas that offered Chen more than a little of her own inspiration. This was a dance of joy, pure and beautiful and free, the kind of joy that allowed them to forget everything else in the whole world while they danced with each other and it made Chen smile.

But there was another person here. One that Chen had kept waiting. And as the duel was still ongoing, she had an opportunity for an introduction before what was very much looking like a bonus show match would start. So, very calmly, but with just the broadest smile on her face to put the sun and moon to shame, she lowered herself next to Keron, all the way to Keron's loyal footrest who had not moved as her mistress had not commanded it.

Chen's eyes were filled with her smile as she tilted Rose's chin up with a finger to look her in the eyes and said: "Rose, you look beautiful"

[Entice: 1+5+2=8]

Dark Age (playtest): The Lands of Pendragon

Tristan

“Nothing” says Hector sadly, her face like stone. “I am entitled to nothing, least of all that which may be within my capabilities.”

In the dim light of the flickering torch, Tristan, you see a side of Hector that you did not expect. A great mantle that those strong shoulders could have born. Know you of the sword that your lady Constance carries? That ancient blade, decider of kings? These shoulders could have born that scabbard. Not to wield, no, but to bear the weight. You can imagine Hector holding that burden, tending to the well-being of a young king to be, one not unlike the Lady Liana. You can see Hector offering strict tutelage, stern and serious yet with a love that would stay her wrath, the blade upon her back always ready to be a gift when the time is right. You can see, in the strength that rests upon her that she could have raised a king, a great king over Britain, in a time where swords were not given out by mysterious woodland ladies or ancient and inscribed stones or any other such faerie nonsense.

And then, then the vision is gone. Like the flickering torchlight, faded in an instant, and you stare merely at a sad and stern knight. A woman who trains for a battle she will never fight and a role she will never bear. Who knows that at her best, she will pass a torch to Robena and someone will listen to her wisdom, and at her worst she will have trained for nothing and pass away without a legacy to her name.