duelacademynpcs (
duelacademynpcs) wrote2022-08-25 07:44 pm
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[Closed Event Post]

::It is the evening at the Arcology that has become home to the Fae. And on the evening, the status quo will find itself altered, and the End of the World begins. Maybe. The World is always ending, isn't it?
But a certain pigeon-headed sage stands before the entrance of the Arcology, mulling over his own thoughts, feeling divided loyalties. Or rather loyalties to his masters, but appalled at the specifics of his masters' orders for what are required to open the door to The Holy Land of Katakamuna.
And yet, they are his orders...::
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Your grace is understood, my lady of lingering leaves.
::The Elf steps back, vanishing.::
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::A short time later.::
The box you asked for, your majesty.
::The elf offers the queen a small plastic box.::
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Good, good. The pieces of the road before us fall together...
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::Marches back in.::
Your majesty, the Sage Wodan and the Daughter Rose.
::Sweeps his cape away.::
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What hath thou called me here for, Queen of Autumn Leaves, whose name is not to be spoken.
::A bloated plant like wizard stumbles in.::
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There better be tasty treats! We were dining on the sorrows of men! And the broken dreams of girls, Queenie Queen!
::A small, impudent child made of roses floats in behind her ... father?::
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Remember your place, brat! You live still at the whim of the Queen of the First Woods! The Garden before Gardens!
::The fairy knight points his blade at the child of roses.::
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Now is not the time for squabbles among members of the court, Ingunar. Feuds and proper decorum can be dealt with after we have seized the chance offered to us by Fortuna itself.
::Holds up her hand.::
Now all we need is the vessels to be delivered.
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As you command your majesty!
::Bows, sheathing his blade.::
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::Doors open, as a fairy with gossamer butterfly wings and a scepter and an ornate outfit floats in, as plastic moving carts pushed by lesser fairies follow him, carrying an aquarium set filled with a writhing 7 Colored Fish, a plastic birdcage with a small Tornado Bird, and an All-Seeing White Tiger writhing in bondage made of roots and vines.::
I come bearing gifts, Mother!
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My beloved son who never disappoints, of the title Truesdale.
Now, we have all the items we need! Sage Elf! Is the array of man's magic ready?
::Motioning her branch like arms.::
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As prepared as their grimoires allow, my Queen!
::An array glowing gold covers the root claimed floor.::
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Place the beasts within the array!
::Points his own scepter at the fae and at the array.::
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::Stands up from her throne walking down, her body sounding like the creaking of wood and rustling of leaves.
And takes the needles from the plastic bin.
Three in fact.::
Is this the number of three, Sage Elf?
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Yes, your majesty. One and one and one makes three.
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Perfect.
::Clamps one on the back end of the fish, another on the hind leg of the tiger, and the third on the leg of the Tornado Bad.::
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What is it you seek of my daughter and I, lady of the oldest grove?
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You shall know soon for what purpose it be that I have called you to this hall, Wodan.
Ingunar, take the bin of oils, and plant one of the needles at full length at the entrance of our prison.
::Handing the bin to the fairy knight.::
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Understood, my eternal liege.
::Marches out of the great hall, carrying the bin under his arm..::
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::Opens the plastic container she had Learning Elf retrieve for her.::
To think The Moonchild was the snotty daughter of man who ate my tarts. What coincidence.
::Carefully pulls out three long purple-red hairs, and ties them to the beasts, thrashing.::
There.
::Flicks the Needles to Minus.::
Now, Wodan, work your magic on these beasts, infuse them with the workings of the Fae, let the magic of man, the magic of Zeman and our magic work together for a purpose!
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I call this a fool's errand, my queen, for this is the working with magics of ages not meant for one another.
But as thou commands!
::Holds his hands, and his daughter holds up her rose staff.
The magic pours and pools over the beasts, reacting to the needles, reacting to the array, blending together irrationally, as the beasts shift.
Chance.
Bend.
Into things like men, yet not quite men.::
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::The red bird turns into a short haired red-headed young man.::
Oh me, oh my. What happened~?
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::The tiger now is a fashionable man with a blond perm.::
I feel absolutely famished~~
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::And the fish into a youth whose gender is quite unknown.::
I feel like a brand new me~
But... why do we exist~?
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