DearTrickster

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

So I'm going to work on a pooossst to reply with the riddle on the door. Jillian is not the smartest, so let's see how she handles a weird riddle.

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

@Captain Jenno@Furia@DearTrickster

Heyo right tunnel group~

It's puzzle time.

@Baklava

Woohoo! Also I had an idea I wanted to share with you, I'm not sure how much you have planned for this dungeon but I'll PM you it if you wanna hear about it.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

@Dedonus, @nitemare shape and @Hound55 Hey guys adding this booger to Odette's supporting character roster.

Rhys

Rhys
Fire Elemental - The Jester - The Man Who was Consumed by Fire
~Oblivion and Peace~

Extravagantly dressed, brightly painted red star over his right eye, red painted lips and striking image of a jester. Excessive, flighty and unyielding. Once long ago, Rhys was a human that stumbled into the midst of the Fey. His heart was consumed by a fire elemental, when the elemental had expected his host to burn Rhys survived the onslaught of magic. Coming out of the ordeal as neither Human nor Faerie. Unabiding to the same laws Faerie follow, Fire Fey were forced to reign the likes of him in. They contacted The Ambassador for her help. In exchange The Ambassador was able to leverage for nearly limitless favours. Occasional parties on Earth, shallow favours and a little entertainment keep Rhys in check. For now.

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

<Snipped quote by DearTrickster>

Hey hey! Sorry to be a pain but I added a few things. Didn't have much chance to over the season, sorry about that.

@Captain Jenno

You got it :D

Edit: Oh my god Zeph, so cereal.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

_{banner credit to Hellis}

---

Time: Present Day
Location: Ville D’Ys, Faerie Realms

Ville D’Ys, as a city expanded the walls and crevices of the vast underwater canyon deep beneath the waves in the Faerie Realms. Princess Lassantra’s illustrious family ruled over the city and territory for generations, having come close to losing the city less than a decade ago. Now, with renewed relations with other water fey territories and backed by the Earth Fey’s support, brokered by The Ambassador, the family’s rule rose to prominence once again. Crushing opposing nobility in their wake.

The city itself was bursting with life, all manner of water breathing Fey lived from the top of the cliffside down to the widened roads and stone buildings. The older dilapidated stonework was abandoned and in some areas reused then worked into newer architecture.

The water fey themselves resembled fish to some degree. They sported large bulbous eyes, scales, fins and webbing. Some moved to catch the colourful light emitted by the lichen moss, the water fey controlled the moss growth directing light where it was needed. The colours were muted in the environment but the locals made up for it well in their colourful scales, hair and skin.

Among Mandate’s limited talents, being a weight was perhaps her greatest, in her humble opinion. She was, after all, extremely talented in the art of being heavy. With a twist of that internal sense of weight, she could out-mass any living being that she could recall quite easily.

And so, it was with great joy that she embraced the role of anchor; with a step and a twist, she was 300 pounds heavier, rooting herself and her companions firmly in the world beneath the water, revealed by the wondrous glowing moss.

And what a world it was! Mandate had not expected the water to be empty, of course; she had the distinct impression that there was quite a lot of life hidden within the murky blue, not-quite-memories of glimmering scales and fluidic shoals. Rather, she had not expected it to be such a combination of vibrant and… Mandate tilted her head, and considered her choice of words. Dreary. It was not dead in colors, nor in liveliness, but it felt… Dark.

But that was silly, there was plenty of light from the moss! An interesting diversity of luminescence, glinting upon scales and flesh, and upon her own mercurial form. Maybe it was the darkness above, pressing down upon the light and stone, as if it would snuff out the long-lasting works at the first opportunity. Mandate was not afraid of the dark, nor of losing the breath she did not have, but it was an uneasy presence that marred a breathtaking -again, if she had breath to take- experience. Of all of the eerie features of this watery realm, from the statues to the looming cliffs and smothering darkness, it was the fey she minded the least.

”They’re wonderful, Miss Ambassador.” Mandate murmured into the water, though even she could not hear it properly; the sound was smothered. Regardless, it felt like a good choice of words. They inspired wonder, with their lurking dance in the gloom. Some were but shapes, beyond the range of the luminescence, but others were thrown into vivid detail by how their scales caught the light, and Mandate idly considered some of the strange things she saw.

She wondered, without malice, in what shapes the pretty things would break. The patterns of their destruction. Cracking, crumbling, fragmentation? Mandate diverted her stare before it could become impolite, and held onto her thoughts for later examination. She would ask Miss Ambassador!

More wonders awaited them further along, though they were only new to Mandate herself. The magic at work when they breached the water was but one of them, and Mandate spent a moment to peer curiously at the Ambassador as the water left her form as if it had never been there, whilst her own weight receded to its default. The marvelous architecture around them sent her imagination dancing in search of meaning, and her head flicked to and fro in a constant scan. More questions!

Perhaps the most mixed wonder at work was the one whom Miss Ambassador clearly seemed to know personally. It was mildly interesting, to see such casual shifting of shape in front of her very eyes, but Mandate approved of her clothing choices -or lack thereof. What did a stronger being need it for, anyway? A fellow demonstrator was always welcome.

And with the following demonstration of intimacy, Mandate’s approval was somewhat shaken, mostly by a twinge of confusion. Her head tilted as she observed the greeting, and reconsidered Princess Lassantara. More precisely, where she stood in Miss Ambassador’s wise eyes.

She must have been close indeed, to be greeted so warmly. Mandate’s sharply-tipped fingers twitched as she recalled the warmth of lips upon her own metallic face, gentle and almost unnoticeable in pressure. An offering of camaraderie and shelter, protection and understanding. It was a special feeling.

Observing the soft greeting and graced by sounds she could not interpret, Mandate was left to contemplate a somewhat familiar -and yet new- feeling. It escaped easy explanation. It was a desire for… Proximity? Yes. Mandate nodded to herself, hoping that she was not expressing approval to something that had been said. She wished to be close.

She hoped that she was close. Princess Lassantra was greeted in a similar manner to how she had been welcomed into Miss Ambassador’s care, and the manner in which they stood and behaved spoke of clear intimacy, so perhaps this was a good sign, as much as it muddled her emotions.

That reassured her, somewhat.

Soon enough, however, the moment had passed, and they were on the move again. As much as the golem wished to lag behind and observe every facet of this underwater world, the urging of Bach kept her moving at a fairly steady pace. Soon enough, Mandate was left to wait with even less for company; simply herself, her thoughts, and Bach. With how little she had interacted with Miss Ambassador’s other companion, it may as well have simply been herself and the ever-so-interesting walls. I should talk more with him. I’m sure he has interesting things to say as well!

Nonetheless, the mercurial golem remained quiet in her vigilance.

Bach leaned against the wall, his pipe tucked into the crook of his arm while he rooted for his herbs. He found them, various seeds spilling out of his pocket while he held a small dark green knot. He stuffed it into the pipe the best he could then pulled out a little booklet of matches from his jacket. Lighting it, he took long drags expelling a sweet smelling purple smoke around himself and in the hallway.

“Might be a while before we see them out of there. Oracles are notoriously vague. You’re probably bursting with questions, huh Mandate?” Bach began, the golem towered above him. His yellow green eyes tipped up to observe the singular red eye. “I can answer them the best I can.”

He puffed away on the pipe, always an educator at heart.

Mandate turned to observe Bach almost as soon as he had begun to root around, her eye unblinking as it all but burned into him with its gaze. It was not something that Mandate could particularly help; her gaze was intense by nature, and without a lid, it could not be reduced.

The offer of conversation was unexpected, but not unwelcome. She perked up, the neutral line of her mouth becoming its usual V of a smile. She tilted her head to and fro, considering her questions. What was first and most important? Humming softly, Mandate intertwined her fingers in front of her chest. ”If I crush one of our underwater friends with my hand, will they bleed and die?” she murmured curiously. It was important to know these things, she reasoned.

Bach paused mid way through a puff, processing the question. He slowly exhaled then replied, “We haven’t the chance to test your strength yet but…”

“They would most certainly bleed quite a bit then die a slow and painful death if you were to crush them, Mandate. The flesh of their bodies would slip away given enough time and as all Fey return to their original forms. Fey are born of magic, spirit and sometimes a little dust depending on who you ask. Water Fey would possibly dissolve back to the water where they spent the majority of their lives.” Clinically breaking down his thoughts, his tone chillingly casual as he spoke of death. He tapped the bottom of his pipe resettling the ashes of what he had already smoked.

“Haven’t personally observed a water fey die. Their autopsy reports are fascinating.” He noted. “Next question.”

Fascinating was a good word. Mandate’s fingers twitched as she visualized the process described, her niggling curiosity refusing to fade. Seemingly-normal flesh just dissolving away... I want to see it. Miss Ambassador would probably be upset with her if she indulged her curiosity, and the thought stilled the golem’s twitching fingers. Maybe she’ll let me, soon I hope! In the meantime, she rolled other questions around in her mind.

After a time, the golem nodded to herself and continued. ”What was Miss Ambassador saying, earlier? I didn’t say anything, but I could not understand.” She hoped her voice conveyed how much this disappointed her; she enjoyed Miss Ambassador’s speaking by itself, but she enjoyed understanding it even more. It let her roll the words around endlessly in her head, to be analyzed and admired, and the words often made her feel warmed.

“They were talking about what My Lady wanted from speaking with the oracle. They were speaking in Common Fey.” He said, then clarified, “The language most commonly known and used by Fey. You have heard us speak in Common Fey before, Mandate.”

Light shone beneath the door of the Oracle’s room and caught his attention briefly. There better be answers with that ridiculous light show.

His attention turned back to Mandate. “Fey speak many different dialects and languages. I have learned a fair few of them.”

He paused thinking of the exact amount and losing count almost immediately when he dipped into just the Earth Fey dialects and dead languages. He shook his head, leaves falling around his shoulders. “Too many to count.”

Mandate tilted her head, wondering upon his words. Her response came fairly quickly, joking and light in tone. ”I think I’m good with math, Mister Bach. I can help you, if you want.” In truth, his words were off-putting. If there was truly such a great diversity in fey language, then what was she to do? She desperately wanted to learn, but it sounded like more than she could handle in a reasonable amount of time. How would she know what her dear friend was saying, when it came up? Mandate immediately followed her small quip with a true question. ”Would you be okay with translating for me, Mister Bach?”

He drew on his pipe again and exhaled, chuckling a little. A little honesty would do well for Mandate, build some necessary boundaries. A notion he was sure Odette would not object to. “You and I have a lot of time on our hands. We may not know the logistics behind your creation Mandate, but you are built to last. Perhaps one day when we have time I can teach you Common Fey. Translation, however, is strictly up to My Lady. She has her reasons for not translating everything she says, often to save time and not to repeat herself.”

He looked to the golem again and noted her intense curiosity. He wondered idly what the other half of what the golem was thinking or feeling. Her genuine expressions ranging from the whole spectrum of emotions sometimes the change was subtle, but he (much like Odette) paid a great deal of attention to Mandate in her significant pauses. Bach could read a human’s expression easily enough, their past traumas or memories easier to read than a book. Mandate’s trauma resided in those moments of silence. Well out of earshot Bach and Odette would brainstorm numerous scenarios of how Mandate came to be.

Until the golem spoke openly of what happened, they only had their guesses and clues.

He had paused while he collected his thoughts, “Trust My Lady will tell you everything you need to know.”

He smiled, it was a well practiced one. No warmth could be seen behind them.

Immediately, Mandate nodded. ”Of course I trust Miss Ambassador!” Although it was impossible for the golem to smile any wider or brighter, her tone had noticeably shifted. It was bright and just as earnest as ever, her hands fiddling together as she focused upon Bach. It was easier than it had been at first, brushing over the mention of the methods behind her ‘birth’, but it still pulled at her thoughts. She would tell her dear and only friend when the young human needed to know, but…

But she didn’t. Mandate nodded decisively to her own firm thought, and diverted her attention momentarily to contemplate speaking in such strange and beautiful ways, ways that she could not understand. She could roughly interpret some of what she had heard in Miss Ambassador’s beautiful city, but every aspect of fey language was lost to her unearned past experience. It would be a new joy, without lingering familiarity.

Speaking of the fey… ”Mister Bach, when did Miss Ambassador meet her friend?”

Bach nodded, an easy smile. “I’m not sure My Lady would appreciate my sharing of full details but… I can tell you she has known her friend, Princess Lassantra for a long time. Very good friends-” The doors creaked open again swinging open outwardly.

Odette emerged out from the curtains of green, while Lassantra trailed behind her. Bach bowed a little, then spoke in English. “My Lady, Your Highness. I take the meeting was successful?”

Lassantra responded in English as well, a heavy accent. “Yes. We learned many new things. The three of you are staying for the evening.”

Bach lifted his brows a fraction then looked to Odette, she stared back. “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness. We are honour-”

Lassantra cut him off by walking past him while gently guiding Odette. “Yes, you may be honoured. Time for dinner.” She flashed her serrated teeth at Bach, a playful expression. Bach knew Lassantra disliked him, all he really could do about it was to tolerate her.

“Come, Mandate. You don’t eat… do you?” He asked, having never seen her eat a single thing.

Mandate’s gaze followed the princess as she moved past the golem’s spot along the wall, curiously examining her once more. If she was a very good friend of the Ambassador, then that meant that she had to be tolerated and understood, she concluded. She seemed almost nice.

Turning her head towards Mister Bach, then back towards the princess, Mandate spoke. ”I don’t, but I can pretend I do if you want double servings, Mister Bach!” she cheerfully failed to whisper as she followed dutifully after the Ambassador. She was always ready to help in the little ways, after all.

Besides, if Mister Bach didn’t want her servings, then she would simply have more to tear apart and look at in the meantime. The thought of examining fey foods put a metaphorical spring in her 500 pound step.

They followed behind the two women, Lassantra was happily chattering away to Odette in Common Fey. The Ambassador smiled pleasantly enough, the glances she shot at Bach were telling. She wanted nothing more than to slip away and discuss the details she learned with the Oracle. Odette glanced up at Mandate, smiling softly at the golem hoping to reassure her good behaviour.

They arrived to the massive dining hall, the long exquisite stone table adorned with glittering silverware, centerpieces overflowing with organic plant life and bursting with colour. Ambient light glowed from within the centerpieces, casting the colours further outward.

The Princess sat at the head of the table, The Ambassador sat to her immediate right while Bach was on the other side across from Odette. Odette gestured to Mandate to sit beside her. The plates were currently empty but a clap of Lassantra’s hands and busy wait staff appeared pouring water in polished stone goblets while preparing sweet wine in another glass for them all.

“Mandate, won’t you please sit with me?” She asked, sweetly.

”Of course, Miss Ambassador!” Mandate chirped with a tilt of her head, all too happy to comply. She was somewhat wary of her size getting in the Ambassador’s way, but managed to seat herself without too much trouble. Her eye seemed to have trouble finding a place to settle; one moment she would be focused intently upon her dear friend, and the next she would be all but boring a hole into the plant life from the centerpieces. Finally, she seemed to settle upon the silverware.

”Your home is lovely, Princess Lassantra.” she announced, distracted by the silverware she now delicately clutched in her hand to bring closer to her face. She had decided against breaking anything irreplaceable during the walk, and so did not attempt to bend them as she wished. Instead, she gently tapped them against the surface of her eye, then resumed her examination once she was apparently satisfied with the sound.

For the moment, the staff were ignored, and her questions were filed away. Perhaps she could fire one at the princess, if she kept being nice enough. The golem found it difficult to determine such a thing, when most of what she had initially heard from the fey had been in words she could not understand. It was a cause of consternation, but not insurmountable.

Lassantra settled her chin in her hands leaning on her elbows, mouth curled into a devilish smile at Mandate. The Ambassador remained neutral, casting her eyes over to Mandate as well.

The Princess acknowledged Mandate, “Thank you, golem. My home is lovelier still, nothing compared to our dear Ambassador.”

Odette supplied, “Her name is Mandate, Your Highness.”

Lassantra paused then asked, “Mandate of what?”

Mandate very carefully avoided crumbling the silverware in her fist. Instead, she set it back down upon the table, roughly attempting to return it to its original configuration before simply leaving the tools be. For lack of anything sufficiently sturdy, her hand beneath the table instead squeezed at the air.

Mandate of nothing. She did not voice the thought; it was an unintelligible thing, confusing without context that she was unwilling to provide. Nothing and no one.

Princess Lassantra did not deserve to know the entirety of her name.

Miss Ambassador did, and since she did not object, she presumably wanted it shared.

Leave the remnants. Embrace this self. What a strange thought. But enjoyable. Mandate’s mouth, which had firmly reversed its configuration into a frown, slowly melded back into its usual v of an expression.

It was more difficult to speak than it was to shatter bones and peel apart a girder. ”Oh, that’s just a part of a silly name, Princess Lassantra!” She spoke to the fey, but her gaze was focused upon Miss Ambassador. ”It’s very long, and I don’t like it, so Mandate is my name.”

Hesitation upon the threshold is weakness. An echo. ”Would you like to hear the silly name?”

“I most certainly would.” Odette said, intrigued for more clues. Her thoughts of the Oracle going on pause, momentarily. Noting again the subtle shift in Mandate’s demeanor. “If you wish to share it.”

Bach noted the shift as well. Lassantra however was oblivious.

Mandate straightened up in her seat, and clasped her hands together. Wear it with pride. Not an echo, that time, but a reminder to herself. It was no longer her name, she had chosen that for herself. There was no reason to shy away from something that no longer mattered. ”I couldn’t say the silly name myself, but it translates as,” she began, pausing to make a noise as if clearing her nonexistent throat, ”Indomitable Enforcer of the Divine Mandate!” she finished proudly.

Slowly, her hands released their pressure on one another. There was no pride in the ‘silly name’ itself, but in what it stood for; the fact that it no longer existed except in her mind, carved into her awareness. Like a reminder stapled to her very souls, which she had adamantly scribbled over with her own little name. Something smaller, simpler, truer to herself, but without forgetting herself. Something that was right.

“Strange. Very strange.” Lassantra replied, her little attention pulled away again.

Odette and Bach stared at Mandate then shared a glance together. “Thank you for sharing that, Mandate.”

Lassantra carried on, the food beginning to be served she leaned back in her seat resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “My Lady Ambassador picks up the strangest morsels. Tell me, are there are any tasty morsels in your life right now? Men, women, others…?” She glanced at Bach and the earth fey pulled his lip at her in response.

“I suppose not?”

Odette levelled a glare at Lassantra, the food served before her. Steaming, strange looking fish. Bach received a pile of berries, leaves and an assortment of salad. He began idly picking at the food watching the exchange.

Calmly she cut into the meat, “I feel like you hardly need the reminder, Princess. The reason why you and I don’t talk about my personal relationships.”

Lassantra grinned devilishly again, “Please remind me, remind us. I know how you love to share your private life.”

Odette all but bristled at that.

“If I may, I’d be more than happy to remind you.” She replied, the grip shifting on her knife. Her teeth chewing at the inside of her cheek.

Lassantra’s smiled wavered at that.

Mandate, who up until that moment had been mostly engrossed in her continued fiddling with the silverware, perked up as the Ambassador’s words registered. Things had gone somewhat silent, the princess no longer seemed very amused, but the golem was more intrigued by the idea of learning more about her dear friend.

“The last time we talked about boys was when you were in Paris.” She paused chewing through some fish. Sipping the water before continuing. “Thomas, I believe was his name. Another tasty morsel as you put it. We had a fight, I cried on your shoulder then mysteriously Thomas wound up at the bottom of the Seine. Drowned. Autopsy reports later reported his heart was ripped clean from his chest cavity. I was investigated, forced my hand to cover up the murder and promptly dealt with months of fall out.” She said glaring at Lassantra then her expression relaxed slipping back into neutral within a blink of an eye. “My apologies for being so frank, Princess. Please forgive me.”

Lassantra held her smile but snapped her fingers. The serving staff froze in their tracks. Odette straightened staring down Lassantra, the tension noticeably increasing. Bach in turn stared at Odette.

The playful veneer Lassantra exuded disappeared.

Lassantra’s hand shot out gripping Odette’s wrist like a vice, long dirty nails wrapped around. A low guttural hiss in her native tongue. Bach stood up with a clatter of the silverware. Odette remained still, not breaking eye contact with the Princess.

There was no hesitation on Mandate’s part. Even as distracted as she was by processing the Ambassador’s interesting little story, she had been more than capable of reading the rising tension in the room.

Lassantra’s hand latched onto the Ambassador, and anger sparked. Mandate did not fully register the act of standing, only that she had stood with enough force to rock her chair back, and her hands had somehow found themselves imbedded in the table from the force with which they had been slammed down. Her silverware and plate were both scattered with an echoing SLAM, the utensil which had been in her grip now a crumpled ruin.

The silver plates upon her head, her ‘mane’, bristled, sliding against one another with a low ring. Her singular eye did not leave the princess, a deep and unwavering orb of crimson.

She waited.

Lassantra’s pitch eyes scaled up at the looming golem, her hissing ceased immediately at the noise. The only sound now was Mandate’s bristling mane, tinkling on. Only then did Odette smile.

“Princess, my wrist please.”

Lassantra let go of the human, staring up at Mandate. She knew so little about golems, her instincts were going haywire with fear. The emotions flitted across her face.

“I believe dinner is over. Princess I do thank you for your help today, but may I give you another reminder?” The Ambassador asked, her tone icy.

Lassantra finally tore her eyes away then stared at Odette, nodding.

“Please remember who it is you owe your throne and city to.” She said cupping the Lassantra’s chin, running her thumb across the slick skin. Leaning close she whispered, “I expect your oracle to continue searching for more answers. I want you to give me detailed reports uncensored and complete. Do you understand?”

Lassantra snuck another glance at Mandate shivering, “Yes, My Lady.”

The tension stretched on, Bach occasionally looked between the three watching for more signs of trouble.

When she was satisfied Odette released Lassantra and then stood from her chair. Finally looking up at Mandate, “You can relax now Mandate, I am safe.”

It took a few moments for Mandate to comply. She was… Angry in a way she had not felt in awhile. It was not the monstrous mixture of sensations that was her birth moment, but it prickled at her. It tightened her fists involuntarily- or perhaps made the action entirely voluntary in her short-sighted wrath- and built a scream, ready to be unleashed in righteous anger.

But comply she did. Miss Ambassador is safe. Slowly, she extracted her fists from the table, uncurling them to allow the shattered silverware to fall to into the hole. The clattering was almost deafening in the silence, and Mandate took a moment to appreciate the fact that her fists were as unmarred as ever. Should I apologize for breaking her things? The spark returned. No.

”Yes, Miss Ambassador. Are you okay?” The golem peered down at her self-appointed charge, concern lacing her tone as her eye finally left the shaken princess, dismissing her as a threat. She would be broken if the Ambassador was hurt, but she was not a present threat.

Odette lifted her wrist, red marks where Lassantra’s fingers were. She tsked, “Marked, but unharmed. Mandate, do you understand what happened here?”

She gestured to the Princess to emphasize her meaning, “Between the Princess and I?”

Mandate’s mane had just begun to bristle again when the question caught her, the building fire guttering out as she tilted her head. What happened? She did not reply immediately, determined to wrap her mind around the question and answer appropriately. An internal debate raged, and so many of the answers sounded correct. The progression of events was laid out cleanly. A request, an answer, an altercation. A near-altercation she corrected herself, then paused. Yes, it had stopped. The princess had been scared from doing something stupid.

A dusty corner of her Self answered the rest of herself, an intermixing of several trains of thought. Control? Mandate straightened up after a firmer moment of thought, and answered.

”Lassantra was angry. She was going to do something, but she didn’t. She stopped.” Mandate’s head tilted to the other side for a moment, before she nodded. It felt right. ”She was scared. Because you’re in control, Miss Ambassador?” Her contemplative tone had shifted at the end, becoming something eager. She desperately hoped that she was correct, and had earned approval.

All the while, the thought roiled in her mind. Is Miss Ambassador a queen? She scares princesses in their castles. She must be; she owns a city.

“Excellent, Mandate. Well done, there is a little more to it. The game the Princess tried to play since our arrival.” She smiled up at Mandate, then she turned back to the Princess. “Entering my personal space without my permission. Dismissing you with little acknowledgment-”

Lassantra began to protest then Odette cupped her chin again squeezing her cheeks, “My companion, therein an extension of insulting her Guest.” Odette continued without pause. “Provoking me, pushing my patience with more probing questions. Princess Lassantra attempted to keep this dinner off balance by asserting herself, asserting a control she knew she never had. Even among allies, one can never be comfortable.”

Colour touched in the water fey’s cheeks, humiliation washing over her.

“I was prepared to simply weather the previous slights and continue the game. Lassantra made the first move by losing her temper. She lost.”

Letting go she turned her attention back to Mandate, “As you put it simply, Princess Lassantra is scared because I am in control. Her attempt wasn’t terribly subtle but an attempt nonetheless to regain some control. Does that make sense, Mandate?”

She laughed a little into her hand, hiding her smile, “Politics, it is all so silly.”

The Ambassador’s laughter provoked a giggle from Mandate, her hands brushing together to remove the last clinging bits of the table from them. Her earlier rage -bordering on a murderous wrath- had boiled away as if it was never there, replaced by the soothing voice of her human friend. Her stare flicked from her hands to Lassantra, then back to the Ambassador.

”It’s very silly, Miss Ambassador. She should always be scared; you’re a queen, right? You own a city too, after all!” Mandate’s voice bordered on a chirp, as pleased as she was by the opportunity to share her thought process. It struck her as perfectly logical, and she did not care to speak to Lassantra at the moment.

Odette giggled again at Mandate’s comment.

Lassantra’s blush deepened.

“No, Mandate. I am an Ambassador. Queens and princesses, much like everyone, bend to someone. Bach, Mandate it is time to go home. We have another ‘Queen’ to tackle together.”

I’m good at tackling. Mandate did not say. She was fairly certain Miss Ambassador did not mean that form of tackling. Although if she did, the golem was certain that she would be the best at it; she had several advantages over most things when it came to matters of tackling.

Shaking her head to remove the idle urge to tackle Lassantra, the golem turned her attention back to her friend. ”Of course, Miss Ambassador! Will we walk again?” she queried, tilting her head. It had been fun, to see the depths, but Lassantra seemed upset at the moment. Maybe it would be best to take another path? Her thoughts roiled for a moment, echoing with impressions of ambushes and terror, before they ended decisively. The Princess knows better. It was Miss Ambassador’s decision anyway.

“A portal. It was courtesy that we approached the way we did, portaling into someone’s dining room is inappropriate. Especially of someone with such high esteem as the Princess.” Another look at Lassantra, the Princess shifted her eyes to the ground. “Until your next report, Princess.”

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

Right Tunnel

@Captain Jenno, @Furia, @Baklava, & @DearTrickster Collabo Supremo

Jillian climbed to sit on the shoulders of one of her puppets, giving her more vantage that a tree or rock face could afford the skullkid. The twine suspending the puppets shot forward into the seemingly endless darkness of the ceiling. Jillian listened, waiting, the moment stretched and finally the twine found purchase. Jillian directed the puppets to use the walls instead of the ceiling for better mobility. Or they would be waiting that much longer to simply move forward. The Skullkid held her lantern high peering into the darkness.

She turned her small body around Lethe calling her an Imp and allowing her to take the lead. There was no other place Jillian belonged anyway, these weirdos didn't stand a chance navigating the darkness let alone even with half of the confidence Jillian exuded. The now normal sized Lethe, no longer glowed. The light did it's best against the oppressive darkness. Her other puppet was a few paces ahead, just hovering ahead of where the light was casted. The clicks and twine shooting out were the only sounds coming from the puppets.

Jillian looked over the voluntold members, Naviela was the only one that choose to accompany her. Warrior type, Gerudo, while the muscles along her arms and the spears she had on her were telling signs. Naviela wasn't particularly fazed by Jillian's antics nor her puppets. As much as Naviela had been interested by Jillian, she had in turn grabbed the skullkid's. It wasn't often she was close enough to talk to a Gerudo. Through her years of wondering and travelling she rarely approached the scorching sands where Naviela's people called home. Adults were weird like that, why live in the awful dry sand when you can live in a forest instead? It made no sense.

Then there was the young Goron and one of the two Sheikah brothers. The serious one, Zephyrus. They didn't have the huge robot or the big Hylian but she figured they were well equipped with fighters. Giving Jillian some wiggle room, she wouldn't have to rely solely on her puppets for defence if they ran into trouble.

"As defacto leader of the right tunnel group, even though half of you were told to come with me, you'll be glad you were. I wasn't lyin' when I said that I can find this keystone junk fastest." Jillian pressed her hand flatly against her chest, speaking with an irritating amount of smugness. "What's it look like anyway? Is it a key made of stone? A stone that looks like a key? Does it open a door? Is that door made of stone too? Or did all the stone doors in this place get all dusty when you did that..." Her blue fingers waggled to emphasize her point Lethe using magic. "Shake the ground and lit up the torches. Magic or whatever."

She looked at Lethe, beneath her mask she was grinning toothily. Lethe was a fairy, while most choose often to ignore her. Lethe's already shown she's had a bit of a short temper. Easy to rile up. In Jillian's mind, Lethe was a well of opportunity.

Lethe sighed defeatedly, staring at the plethora of nothingness up ahead. She would grace the skullkid with an answer, but certainly not a look. She didn't deserve Lethe's full attention.

"You'll know it when you see it," she said flatly. Of course, what she meant to say was that she didn't know. But good luck getting a fairy like Lethe to admit that, "And no... all the doors don't do that... probably."

The Skullkid tilted her head at the fairy, "When your head got bigger I guess that didn't mean you got smarter huh?" Jillian pointed out.

Lethe pursed her lips and didn't respond. Was she really that rusty? Of course-- how could she forget the most essential rule about dealing with a skullkid? Don't acknowledge their existence. At all. Without fail, they will always make sure you regret it. It was like some peculiar talent.

Ultimately, Zephyrus was not displeased with the team he had been so suddenly corralled into. Although he would much rather have been there to watch over his brother himself, he took comfort at least in Griz' alignment with him. He trusted that, mute or no, they were Sheikah enough to ensure he didn't do anything too foolish. He imagined Griz's enthusiasm to be less so than his own, though - a feat in itself.
Archer's assignment aside, Zephyrus was at least confident his new peers would be mostly agreeable. He was actually, on some microscale, pleased to be given the opportunity to work with a Gerudo - with them, he had always felt some strange form of kinship. His golden eyed cousins, another race forced to live in Hyrule's shadows, albeit in a different, less literal sense.
Both their kinds were surrounded by myths which attacked their character, and legends which incriminated their culture. He hoped that would be enough common ground for at least an amicable partnership.

Then there was the Goron - Hogarth, was it?

Small for a Goron but reasonably sized for literally anything else. His (presumed) natural strength and tough hide would lend itself handily to whatever hardship this forboding den of dark and death had to offer them.
The only problems he could foresee, then, were with the Skullkid.
As defacto leader of the right tunnel group...
He wasn't so certain he took great comfort in their presence. Skullkids were inherently chaotic, or so he had been led to believe. Certainly not the sorts of beings he would follow into battle, and especially not when the battlefield was an ancestral relic of his people, mysterious even to themselves.
He intervened in Jillian and Lethe's discourse with only a softly uttered sentence.

"Perhaps it would be best if I take point? I have practiced, in the past, a means of blowing myself backwards and out of harms way - I don't doubt that in narrow passages such as these, I could move us all a short distance if need be."

"Sounds handy, but is your windy trick gonna work on boulder brains over there?" She stuck her thumb at Hogarth. Hogarth seemed surprised and then ecstatic that he was being acknowledged.

He smiled modestly.
"Without them resisting? I'm optimistic."

"It's alright, brother," Hogarth chortled, "I'm sure your magics will work great!" The young Goron turned back towards Jillian, shyly scratching his cheek as he addressed her, "You come from the forest?"

Her attention honed in over to Hogarth, boulder brains. Her bright eyes peering through sunken eye sockets of the skull mask. "Lost Woods. 'S where all skullkids come from. What brought you outta your caves? Didja hear the voices too? How come you're wonderin' where I'm from? Wouldn't it be obvious?" The puppet walked on, the twine shooting out to continue moving forward.

An aggravated Lethe rubbed her temples-- not everyone seemed to know the first rule about skullkids. Hogarth raised his eyebrows and his grin grew all the wider. He seemed to be thrilled that a creature such as Jillian took such an interest in him. Or perhaps he was simply the happy sort. "I heard the voice, yes! She sounded so beautiful, I had to listen!" he sighed, revelling in the memory, "I've never seen one like you, sister. Actually, I've never seen one like you, either, sister."

Hogarth looked to Naviela as he spoke-- just as eager to acquaint himself with her as he was Jillian.

For all intents and purposes Naviela stayed quite quiet throughout her group's antics. This wasn't so much an anti-social streak, as much as her training kicking in at the best (or perhaps depending on perspective worst) time. When the others seemed strangely relaxed and at ease here, the Gerudo's body was wound up tight, like the string of a balalaika and just as sharp as one.

Her eyes shifted from shadow to shadow, spear resting easily in the palm of her hand and waiting to be drawn for battle.

"This does not surprise me, Brother Goron." Navi responded quietly, without bothering to make eye contact. They could make this a social event any other time of the day. "The tribe does not stray far from the desert... usually.

The last bit was added grimly. If there was one thing certain, it was that she did not seem happy about her travel here, at least not entirely.

Unabashed, Hogarth smiled. "I'm glad you're here, nonetheless. I'm sure you'll be more helpful than someone like me. Especially if we run into trouble. I wonder if--"

"Watch out!" Lethe interrupted, drawing everyone's attention to the distant and glowing red eyes of incoming keese. She swiftly drew a long, elegant rapier, slicing through the air as she did so.

Kark. Navi thought to herself, before readying her spear. This was one of the troubles of being one of the few genuine warriors of a party - you got a huge target on your back or in this particular situation... on the front.

Where first there was only one Keese, now more appeared as they spread through the hallway like wildfire. A small knife appeared within her hands. Like magic how it emerged from thin air, yet, it was the magic of swift hands and even swifter fabric. It was send flying, swooshing in the air, before hitting its mark.

The first of many screeches yawned through the corridor, but this did little to halt the other Keese in their tracks. In fact the dying screams of their brother beast only seemed to embolden them further into action.

Jillian cranked herself back around oblivious to her second puppet being overrun with Keese. It swiped fruitlessly at the creatures, the Keese simultaneously being wrapped up in the strings dislodging them from the walls. The puppet crumpled under the weight, no longer able to hold itself up. The skullkid got her feet beneath her then pushed off the back of her puppet. Backflipping away from the danger, she shouted, "Defend!" The puppet paused acknowledging the command moving swiftly taking swipes at the ones unfortunate enough to fly too close.

Two keese fell victim to the swiping puppet, pathetically falling to the ground. Lethe skewered one unfortunate keese as it swooped towards her, slamming it's body into a second, which spiraled sideways before deciding to target someone else.

Zephyrus' magic was a little tricky to use when the path was too narrow, and other people were in the way. But whining was the lazy's lot, his father had told him once. Fluid, like water, Zephyrus almost seemed to dance his way forwards in flowing, drawn out movements, until he could find a less compromising vantage point towards the front.
It was hardly feasible that he should kill them in a hallway this narrow, with a weapon the size of his, but it wasn't his way to not try and adapt.

Extending his fingers outwards and flattening his palm towards the floor, Zephyrus gathered the air about him into a more tangible, visible essence - a twirling, silver chiffon which shimmered in and out of perceptibility on every other rotation.
Then he raised a hand, and- once he had tapped into the air above a few Keese's heads- he brought it suddenly down, bringing a bolt of air towards the ground with it, and pinning three or four of the closer bats down. He then reached out with his polearm, and made sure to end their suffering with sharp, sudden jabs.
He did not maintain a non-lethal position against animals, but it still pained him to see them struggle.

Poor Hogarth tried to swat at the overhead keese but his movements were too slow. They dove towards his face-- one of them managing to scratch his eye. The young Goron shouted out in frightened alarm as he watched his blood fall on the ground with his good eye. These sorts of battles were a Goron's worst nightmare. Too fast. Too sharp. Too high.

Hogarth curled up tightly into a ball as four keese flocked to his back. They tried to bite and scratch, but the exposed skin was too rock-hard to penetrate. If anything, it provided an ideal distraction. Lethe caught sight of the Goron child out of the corner of her eye and sighed dramatically.

"Somebody help the goron!" she ordered as she slashed the wing of one keese, skewering it as it flopped to the floor. "For Nayru's sake...," she muttered.

She shouted orders like any teacher Zephyrus had ever served under, and it almost startled him how automated the change in his approach was. A graceful pirouette toward his own flank, as Zephyrus held his guando low and then raised it into the turn. Another gust of sudden wind, tethered to the polearm's blade, surged upwards and swatted the Keese sharply into the ceiling. Not a kill, but at least a stun.
The attached fabric scrap fluttered in the newfound breeze. Zephyrus lowered red eyes unto quivering yellow stone.
"Move."

Hogarth complied by arching his body, bouncing in the air once and rapidly rolling forward... too forward. Clearly still in a panic, he nearly bowled over Zephyrus as he went recklessly shooting off into the darkness further ahead.

Zephyrus contorted himself into the wall of the hallway as the goron surged by him, taken momentarily off-guard.

Jillian whipped around and shouted another order pointing at Hogarth, "Puppet! Defend the goron!"

She took a swing at a Keese swooping low to attack her with the iron lantern, she ran beside the puppet ducking to avoid another attack. By now the keese had once again descended-- at first attempting to follow the fleeing Hogarth. The puppet wrapped the wooden fingers around one of the Keese harassing Hogarth and swinging with unprecedented strength into the wall. Jillian scrambled back out of the way while the puppet turned to face two more Keese hissing angrily attacking the painted features of the puppet, scratching away. The sharpened fingers dug into the soft bodies of the Keese tearing them away.

If there was one thing Naviela knew from experience, it was the sheer madness and chaos that reigned in combat. Once the blood started running, the spears were out and sweat trickled into your eyes... there was little in the way of order and organisation. It was the song in your blood that guided you, propelled you forward.

She had long since moved forward, giving wide berth to Zephyrus and his magicks, while her spearhead swished in the air and killing the beasts by the way of a thousand numerous cuts. Only luck caused her to move briefly to the side, when the young Goron burst past her and further into the dark.

Three of the five Keese she had been fighting where unceremoniously splattered to the ground. Their remains grinded into gore and slurry blood by the sheer weight of Hogorth, not quite the fightless spirit he professed, Navi thought to herself.

With a roar, her blood singing for more, she launched herself at the two remaining Keese.

Her experience in battle saved her from having her throat chomped out, but still a talon racked over her skin, just as she cut off the wing of the left Keese. The pain filled her, but it only kept the fire going. A lung of the spearhead punctured straight through the remaining Keese, which Navi used to batter the slowly dying beast against the wall. A swift death for a worthy opponent.

Lethe skewered two of the remaining keese on her rapier, cursing as Hogarth rolled by. Her lithe frame twisted as the final keese swooped towards her, delivering a powerful kick that sent the poor creature flying into the wall and onto the ground. She put an end to it's fearful whimpering with a swift stab through the neck. "Come on," she sighed, already beginning to move forward as she slid the dead keese off of her rapier and returned it to her hip, "We need to catch him before he sets off a trap or gets himself killed."

"Brother Goron has great inner strength, his death will not come easy." The words came swift and clear as she cleaned the spear from the excessive blood and started wrapping her arm into a cloth, to stop the bleeding.

"Yet, in his current state his thoughts are singular on escape, I agree."

The Gerudo nodded in agreement to Lethe, before turning around and eyeing the darkness that came and the sound of heavy rolling in the distance.

"Skullkid, fearless leader, your light will ensure our success, come." Then she started into a jog after the rolling Goron in the distance, hopefully with the Skullkid and the rest in tow, towards the darkness and their companion in need.

The skullkid let out a breath of relief, the puppet shook the bodies of the keese off its fingers. Their blood splattered at it's feet, staining the wood. Jillian climbed back to its shoulders and lifted her lantern up again. "Fearless leader is right! Follow me, we'll get boulder brains back before long. He can't roll forever..."

Jillian regarded Lethe once again holding the lantern up. "Traps? What sorta traps are we talkin' about here? Deep pits? Sharp spikes? Falling rocks? Heavy logs? OH!" She snapped her fingers, "Quick sand! Of course, how could I forget a trap staple like that."

The puppet stepped by the crumpled body of its companion, disregarding it. The painted features nearly all scratched away. Jillian gathered up the pieces she could carry. She grumbled, "It took me two days to build this one... Stupid bats. The twine is all tangled... What a mess." In her small arms she balanced the logs then pulled out her spell book again. A very small portal opened and she tossed the wood through it, it opened where she had stored her puppets back in the Lost Woods. She closed the book with it the portal closed as well.

Climbing back to the shoulders of her puppet they carried on.

Zephyrus followed after taking just a brief moment of pause to consider what had just happened. In any other environment, Keese were child's play. Dozens were as easy as a sharp gust of wind, the quick and sudden breaking of their necks.
But in this hallway there wasn't the space for even one of them to fight to their full capacity, nevermind five. He could only suppose Archer was having an even worse time of it. Somebody could be badly hurt if they stepped errantly into a wind blast, but a fireball? That would be total chaos.
He followed silently at the flank, now. Feeling out, with mind and magic, into the dark, trying to sense whatever was hanging on the air. A deep pit of dark resounded in his stomach - the temple knew that these were not the conditions a fighter was oft prepared to battle through. It thrived on it, the fear and the uncertainty.
He hoped that Hogarth hadn't run too far, too fast. The danger was pressing, and far greater when anxiety overrode reason.

He tried to overlook the 'fearless leader' comment the Gerudo made, but it uneased him to hear it. What was leadership among the Gerudo? Being the front of the helm in a disorganised chaos?
Leaders were noble, strong and just. Sheikah society was rigid and mysterious, to be a leader required a special spark. One that he might not have possessed, either, frankly. Perhaps Lethe did. The Skullkid did not. To hear them so flippantly use phrases like 'boulder brains', racial epiphets. What was he, then? Just another red eye?
What leader was so casual as to insult their team, he wondered. It didn't breed any sense of loyalty in him.

Zephyrus didn't make a point of mentioning it, though: one didn't need to be a good leader to know it wasn't prudent to start discourses in the midst of danger. And he didn't need the reputation of having an attitude, if it came to the point that he should require somebody else's help. He suspected people would not be so quick to run to the aid of, for example, Magus.

Once he saw Naviela gather momentum in pursuit, he picked up his pace a little, just enough to keep their back in view.
He did wish, silently, that they would slow however. Making haste in a place as deceptive as this seemed a good way to rapidly raise the body count.
"Brother, I hope your journey is so far smoother."

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

@Baklava@Furia@Captain Jenno Gonna post the sucka! ANY LAST REQUESTS~

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

I don't mind volunteering for Right Tunnel c:

Mass Effect: Borealis

So are we gonna act like it's Christmas on Elysium? I can probably get a post up in a few days (with family till New Years') but just wanted to know.

@Zombiedude101

I think @Rtron has something in mind as is with Serena wanting to gift everyone stuff.

.:: ℤ𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕒 - 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ::.

Holidays holidays and more holidays. Contributed to the right tunnel collab, you delightful dorks.