Tatterdemalion

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Kathelia!

"Blah blah blah blah blah!" Eupheria rolls her swirling eyes, which have a wicked gleam to them. "Oh, I'm sure you know all about my pain, Kathhhhie. After all, family drama's totally comparable to being trapped alone in a dungeon dimension for who even knows how long, abandoned by everyone you thought cared about you, forgotten and left to rot!" She snickers, nastily, and all around you comes the echo of the spriggans, until it's like you're in a cage made out of mockery. Everyone's looking at you. You're so stupid, four-eyes.

"And why would I put everything back? That's like scraping paint off the canvas! No, we'll have plenty of remixes instead. You think this is the only spin we're going to do on the wheel? You think this is the only penalty you're going to endure? We have all the time in the world together!" She giggles and kicks her feet. "We're going to become best friends, one way or another, Kathhhhhie!"

What? She... no! No, she can't be planning that! It's impossible to say which is more terrifying: the thought that she might "reset" you whenever she wants to change you, or the thought that she might not. If you and your friends don't figure out a way to stop her, you're going to end up being her dolls for the rest of forever.

"Now, I think it's just about time for the games to start!" Where they not already? Euphie slips through one of the holes in the net, briefly becoming long and skinny and bendy, before bouncing back to her full height towering over you. She taps you on the shoulder with one hand, and when you glance over despite yourself, grabs your underwear and-- hey--!!

The spriggans gather around you, cackling, as you dangle from the wedgie emerging from your overalls. Even though they don't have eyes, it's impossible to shake the feeling that they're getting an eyeful of your Sparkle Unicorn Pegasus panties. (The Sparkle Unicorns have little hearts on their butts.) You swing helplessly from the impossibly stretchy fabric as Eupheria carries you off, laughing and telling you how much fun you're going to have exercising for once in your life!

***

Adila!

Yes, yes. You can feel the mental sigh running through your body. You're good at ball. Congratulations.

Bouyed by this approval, you bounce merrily out into a tent! There's grass underneath your claws (paws?) and lots of dainty little chairs surrounding dainty tables with dainty plates piled with the dantiest little sandwiches, with dainty teacups by them. It's perfectly sized for... maybe Alina? She'd be perfectly at home here, sipping tea with her pinky extended. You, on the other hand, manage to knock over a table, and then back into another table, causing Eska to scoff at you.

...Eska!!!

She looks very pale, almost shiny, and her fingers are segmented. She's smiling a lot! She must be soooooo happy to see you. And dangling from a hook on one of the central poles hanging up the tent is Kazelia, pouting with her arms crossed as... oof, that can't be comfortable. How did Eupheria even get them out through her overalls??

It looks like King Isolde is here, too, though at first glance you almost think she's Eupheria. It's only the eyes and the lack of the Caduceus that still give her away. She looks miserable, sitting alone at her own table, staring off at nothing. You know what she needs? She needs a puppy's head in her lap and comforting whufs.

No. Go talk to Eska.

Isolde needs puppy!

Talk. To. Eska.

...needs puppy!!!

***

Mittens!

At first you think you're hallucinating the bells. They segue so nicely into daydreaming about being pampered by dancing-girls, who stroke your cheeks and scritch your ears and wiggle so enticingly on your lap. Yessss. You're one of the Queens who conquered Jedad, and you're being entertained by your new subjects, and they leave lipstick marks all over your fur... yes, yes, yes! You can hear the silken whisper of the veils, the huff of their breath as they dance, and you squirm on the ground like it's really one of your harem girls you're pressing yourself up against. Mittens is loved! Mittens loves she dancers!!

Then comes the snip, snip, snip of shears, cutting through the webs, and you whine into the snakerchief as you're pulled out of your so comfortable cocoon.

"Oh... my... whiskers," comes the most breathy, alluring voice you've ever heard in your life. You turn around and see... oh, it is a dancer! A dancer with a soft, wispy veil, and a coin-lined sash, and black curly hair spilling down her shoulders, with her little kitten ears poking out from the enticing mane. She presses her body up against you, and hugs you so tightly, almost as tightly as your nice snug cocoon. "Alina, darling, I was so worried, you-- eeeep!!" She giggles as you squeeze she soooooo badonkadonk butt and rub your face up against her, marking your territory with wubs, your silly tail wagging from side to side. Behind her, you vaguely notice, is a knot of wriggling, writhing snakes trying to get themselves untied.

She lifts her veil and leans in to kiss you silly, and you tug her back down into the ruins of the cocoon, tangling your paws in her hair and rubbing at her ears while purring so loud, it fills the whole room, or at least your twitching, delighted ears.

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Mittens!

At the bottom of a stairwell leading up to another unknown room, you get dressed. The socks simply refuse to come off, and the suit doesn't actually have matching socks, so you resign yourself to an extra bit of hidden cutesiness. It's not like anyone's taking these boots off you, right? Right. Nobody needs to know that ickle Mittens has adorable widdle pawsies under her Princess-killer boots. One look at you now, with your snakerchief poking out of its comfy pocket and your vest jingling softly as you move and your loose hair spilling down your shoulders, and anyone would melt on the spot. When Rita sees you, she'll squeak and shimmy her hips and toss herself into your arms!

Rita...

You take one more look down at the pit of the rope vipers, as your conscience just keeps pricking at you. For all you know, the struggling cocoons below are filled with, well, more of Eupheria's creations. She can't have herded people in here while you looked for clothes just so that when she dropped you in there'd be more of an ambiance. Or maybe she would. Or maybe there are other people on the conveyor belt and another princess is wandering down the hall of clothes, not suspecting that all the new clothes on the racks intend to mob her the moment she chooses her new dress. Maybe the whole labyrinth is an ouroboros and there's no way to actually win, just an infinite number of ways to lose.

Don't think like that. That's how she wins.

But you can't stop wondering who's down there. Whether it's someone like Rhyza or the serving girl from the Iluminan restaurant, or whether Rita is down there all wrapped up in silk, and you're about to callously walk away from her because you were scared of a few snakes. And it's as you think about that that you see the teeniest, tiniest cocoon right at the bottom of the pit, and indigo light twinkling through the silken rainbow strands.

***

Kathelia!

When Eupheria sees the trap, she giggles and rolls her eyes. But you're right, she's an entertainer: she can't resist the temptation to whistle and over-exaggeratedly hop right into the net in order to get those berries. And in her defense, when you pull the net and dangle her up over the ground, she's got bulging cheeks full of those sweet berries. She swallows, and you can see the lump going down her throat, and then she burps.

"Hello, darling," she says, hugging Caddy to her chest. No chance of trying to pry that away from her, but she seems to be playing along. Maybe because you're actually acting like a Hyperborean princess should? That would make sense. Unlike your father, she's not an alien force imposing the logic of another world on Hyperborea, but simply the most dangerous princess this world has ever known. Or the most dangerous queen, one supposes, if one is to properly respect her. "It looks like you've caught me! Congratulations on saving Hyperborea!"

She's playing along with you, and this is your chance to get some answers, to grill her. But you just know that the punchline to this comedy act is going to be something that makes you the butt of the joke after all. No matter how you slice the cheese, it comes back to the same certainty: you are going to pay for your boldness. Which means it's vitally important to milk this scene for as much info as you can get from her.

And enunciate. You just know she's going to be a smartass about your lisp. Don't ask for anything she can comedically misunderstand, choose your words carefully, and speak as clearly as you can.

***

Adila!

The sound of an out-of-tune pipe organ fills the air. Posters dangle down from the ceiling advertising the Amazing Servile Dragon, Does Whatever She's Told! Even the applause, slowly building, painstakingly powering the Applause-o-meter, seems mocking and twisted. None of the gremlins have eyes. How are they even watching you?

There is one method by which we may be able to receive assistance. Even with the Watch scattered to the four corners of Eupheria's labyrinth, we may still be able to mobilize Hyperborea against her. We succeeded in making Eupheria's name synonymous with the worst sort of villainy, and this time, we may be able to overwhelm her with a concerted assault. You will need to send word to your allies in Ilumina. The only method with which you have a fighting chance to succeed is to utilize one of the mechanist's machines. Euphie... Eupheria never knew quite what to do with goblin gadgets.

The Applause-o-meter is in the green now, slowly turning from lime to emerald.

Working together, you may be able to distract her with a myriad of princesses long enough for the Cascade to take the Caduceus from her great-grandmother, after which you will immediately incapacitate the Cascade and take the Caduceus from her. I will then use it through you to restore order and return all affected princesses to their original forms, and this being done, the Watch will impound both the Caduceus and Eupheria. Simple. Clean. Precise. Adila even knows the optimal way to make Alina crumple like a tin soldier. Sensing your distress at the thought, Adila crisply adds: She is the only one graceful and bold enough to be successful in the attempt. But we know from the Felorian fiasco that she does not have the moral fortitude to resist the temptation of power. First she will use it to defeat Oberon, and then she will make the excuse that she needs it to fix what Oberon has done, and then she will fall and you will have done nothing. You cannot, will not, make my mistake. Then... then I may rest.

And what about Eupheria?

She is addicted to power. She will never give up the Caduceus willingly and she will never stop attempting to reclaim it once it is taken from her. There is a place prepared for her. She will remain there for the rest of her unnatural life, if she does not crumple to dust once the Caduceus is removed from her possession. The first Adila's tone is as cold as Oberon's hands, forcing their way down your throat. I will carry it out. You will not need to intervene. You will not intervene.

BING!

The door bursts into confetti. And all the gremlins start swarming you, holding up... autograph books?

Your eternal nemesis: handwriting!

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

POTENTIAL 0

Sara could definitely get used to this. Euna's arms are keeping her stable and not shaking her around, despite the way her legs are tearing up the street, each step leaving a crater in the road, forcing cars to veer around the two supers, and forcing the poor little ChRB drone to push its engine to the limit trying to keep up with the silver blur.

"Love you too, Eunicorn," she says, and there's the smug as she rests her head against Euna's for a tender moment. She doesn't dare kiss her. Not yet. Just in case it's too soon. In case she's not forgiven yet. But she can't resist... she has to know that Euna knows that Sara's on her side, now and forever.

And that, yes, Euna will forever regret letting Sara find out about that name. She is, after all, such an ass.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

POTENTIAL 0

Holy fuck. Fan wasn't lying. Vicki is in charge of a total AEGIS takeover, and she is... doing something. Something something satellite? Whatever it is, it can wait. Because Euna, brave and tough and loyal, never wins at pop quizzes. Just watch, the Shogun's going to come and fire a barrage at her and take her down before she can so much as touch the tree. Or Vicki's going to bust through a door and tear a limb off her and then make a snide comment about how she could buy something much more expensive. And, hell, maybe she could. She owns AEGIS now, she could sink a nation's worth of GDP into getting the perfect limbs if she wanted. But she could never buy something as perfect for Euna.

And why the fuck is she standing there?

@SARAHPHIM turns around, scans for the enemy that has to be behind her, and... oh. Oh, right.

"Shit," Sara says, looking back over her shoulder. "This is about the time I took you down, isn't it, Euna?" There are boots on the tiles, banging on the door that Euna smashed shut on her way out. "I can't lie, under any other circumstances I'd totally do it again just to see the look on your face, but fuck Vicki."

She holds one hand out, and smiles, and it's not her usual sardonic smirk, her "I win everything" cocky glance at the cameras. It's a "I knew Euna Kim wouldn't go down like a chump to Vicki of all people" smile. A "that's my Euna" smile.

An honest smile.

"So touch the fucking tree already and let's blow these stupid suits away, Eunicorn!"

And as the doors blow open, @SARAHPHIM is already firing the Judgment Of Solomon through them, leaving the perfect hole in the barrage of hardlight lances and chalices for her Euna to charge at the tree through, like she's the rock that the tide breaks around.

[14 on Comfort and Support.]

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Mittens!

This is the difference between Eupheria and Oberon. Oberon would wait for the clothes to bury you, and then just leave you there until the curse had run its course. Then, after someone else had won— or, more likely, everyone else had lost— he would come back, pick you up, and toss you in a cage. But Euphie? She’s got way too much in store for you to give up now!

Which means that you only spend a little while buried underneath overaffectionate clothing, squirming and grunting and trying to wiggle closer to your dream suit while blindfolded by sleeves. Then the trap door beneath you opens up, and with a sickening lurch, you and the entire pile of clothes fall to your doom.

Luckily, you and the pile have a soft landing! The relief that washes through you as you pant and thank your lucky stars, as clothes fall like snow around you, as muffled, desperate moans and grunts mingle with your own panting through your nose, is wonderful. You even see your dream suit dangling from a rainbow-colored silk rope above your head, safe and sound.

Rainbow-colored silk rope.

Hold on.

As the distinctive hiss of the polychromatic Jedadi Web Viper rings out from every direction, you realize you are in much, much more danger. You’re stuck to one of their intricate webs, and while the clothes fluttering and falling all around will act as a distraction, you’ve only got so much time before they find you, bite you, and wrap you up in a cocoon, just like the cocoons all around, filled with helpless, writhing, moaning victims. And don’t forget... the venom of the web viper is one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs in all of Hyperborea, a perfect distraction from escape. Just another reason Jedad is the worst.

Damage your Grace for as long as you are hindered by the clinging clothes, and try to Get Away with your dream suit before the Web Vipers get you!

***

Adila!

It’s like a nightmare. You telepathically bark and whine helplessly and Juniper keeps coming!

“You’ll go back in your prison!” The sword is impossible to escape from. Every time you try to get out of the way, Juniper’s already jabbing right where your momentum’s leading you. It hurts where it touches your scales, and if you weren’t a dragon, you might be able to understand that the feeling is like touching a hot stove. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses!”

The other Adila in your head is berating you and you don’t want to hurt Juniper Blue and you’re in pain, so you flatten your ears against your skull and run for it, crashing through hedges and splashing into the fountain and leaving a trail of destruction in your wake.

You barrel through a curtain held between two topiary bushes, and then crash down a short flight of stairs in the dark. You lie there for a moment, panting, aching, and then the spotlights turn on.

On the other end of the room, up the stairs, is an Applause-O-Meter. The benches are full of gremlins, shoveling entire buckets of popcorn in their oversized mouths. The door behind you is gone. And a ring, sized for a dragon with her wings tucked in tight against her body to be able to jump through with a running start, rises up out of the floor.

A gremlin throws a popcorn kernel at you and hits your nose dead on.

Take two damage from the Bronze (and the popcorn kernel?), and then figure out a way to entertain the audience!

***

Kathelia!

You have the Spriggans at a disadvantage. Sure, you’re buried up to your neck in the soil, but you could bust out effortlessly, without even needing to make a Strength check. The thorns are in a useless heap at the bottom of the hole, and you’re casually stretching and getting ready for your next move.

The Spriggans themselves are sitting around in bushes, looking like they’re napping. If you’re quiet, they won’t even notice you, but you probably want to go fast, because you heard a familiar laugh floating over the breeze. A silly but ominous laugh. Eupheria’s on her rounds, and here to look at her gardens!

If you try to sneak away, Get Away and go to Page 8.

If you set a cunning trap for her, tell us how smart you are and how she’s going to fall for it, and go to Page 56.

If you disguise yourself as a Spriggan to try and get more information from her, go to Page 90.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

POTENTIAL 0

Sara turns. If she was on camera right now, it might be commented how uncanny it is that she’s mirroring the famous shot in CAMELOT SUPERS Z: FIREHEART.

(It’s subconscious. Errant insisted on that being a movie night, as it combined two of her favorite things: “historical supers” narratives and knights in shining armor. Lancelot is portrayed as Arthur’s equivalent of a corporate champion, with Guinevere as his handler who falls for him despite herself. And the scene where the friar arrives with Gwen’s message to Lancelot, and the knight turns from prayer with the intensity of a burning-eyed tiger, and Euna’s fingers closing excitedly on her arm...)

“Tell me everything,” she says. She still doesn’t see the familiar bone structure. Partially because of the woad, and partially because her mind has become a needle, an arrow, focused on Errant’s in danger.

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

POTENTIAL 0

Sara gives Dominus the Tiger Look. The lidded eyelids, the appraising but disdainful slow scan up and down, the lips that don’t so much as twitch. It’s trademark. Any other fan would be melting into a puddle of “step on me.” But Dominus can try to match that as an equal.

Which means playing dirty. Hitting her from an angle she’s not expecting, one she can’t defend from.

“Sure,” she says, with contemptuous casualness and a boot on Witcherphim’s back. She waits for Dominus to take a step forward before adding: “After you ask out your Angel on a date.”

And that is when her little portable ChRB drone zooms in on Dominus’s face for the whole stream to witness.

[Even with Influence, that’s a 9 on provoking her to immediately turn around and throw herself into a Supervillain Asking Out now that she has an excuse to do so for supervillainy.]

Masks: Resurrection Roundabout

POTENTIAL 0

Here's the thing, folks: take away her edge from fantasy drugs, and Witcherphim is just someone who's had to fight in street brawls to survive, just like regular @SARAHPHIM. She's a superstrong mutant, sure, but that is mostly an advantage when you can connect, and she had to learn her fighting style taking down, like, werewolves and knockers and whatever else Fantasy Poland has to throw at her. Sara? She has Euna.

"Never throw a punch if you don't know whether you'll hit your target. Arms in, weight on the balls of your feet, dominant side turned away from your opponent. Strike with the heel of your palm whenever you can; closed knuckle punches look cool, but you... can mess up your hand if you're unlucky." She tries so hard to not acknowledge that her fists don't have bones. Someone else might not have noticed how it tripped her up. "Breathe. Exhale through your nose when you jab. Stay loose!"

Then she gets the perfect opening. Maybe it's the enhanced senses she gets for hunting monsters. Maybe it's because when something makes that sound in her world, it's usually about to try to claw her face off. Whatever it is, Witcherphim makes the rookie mistake of looking away, and Sara immediately follows up with the mother of all haymakers, with a hardlight gauntlet shimmering around her knuckles to add to the oomph and protect her delicate organic bones. The sound of its connecting is a surprisingly wet thump that knocks Witcherphim off her feet.

Then @SARAHPHIM, to the sound of Twitch emotes being spammed by the audience of her impromptu stream, kicks Witcherphim in the stomach like a Brazilian soccer player at the World Cup, eliciting a pained grunt and a slow curl to protect her vital organs. @SARAHPHIM summons up another sword in shimmering silver and holds it, sparking and flaring, inches from Witcherphim's neck. You have to nail the dominance display or she'll just hop back up once her mutant metabolism gives her a second wind.

"Hail to the queen, bitch."

[5 on Take A Blow, and we'll take I Don't Care What You Think! for a permanent +2 on Reject Influence, thanku; that's my fifth advance, by and by.]

Monster Hearts: Sleepshy Rise

SECOND PLACE
WEREWOLF MAGNET
DARKEST SELF

“I didn’t want to meet them until we were going steady, silly!!” He’s only saying this because he’s cursed. You can’t give a hex like that an inch! “But I guess... once we get you uncursed, we can go have dinner together!”

She leans in, gives him an air kiss next to his cheek— mwah!— and then drags him over to the door before his brain starts working again.

Knock! Knock! And then, once opened, gosh, wouldn’t you know, we’re in... the Sphinx’s lair??

“Drop that oversized kitten and break your curse on poor, innocent Timothy right now, Annalee, or else! He’s nobody’s house husband, you hussy!”

You’d better do it. There is mad power dancing in Elly-belly’s eyes, Annalee. She is at her most unpredictable and impulsive right now, and standing in front of her might as well be standing in front of a train.

This is complicated by the fact that you have not, in fact, hexed Timmy.

Princess-Champions of Hyperborea

Mittens!

The cutesy pawprints on your underwear are just heaping insult on more insult. Sure, they’re adorable. Sure, this is exactly what an Askaian princess would wear (which you know from experience). But you were definitely not wearing these earlier and gosh darn it, Euphie really does like playing dress-up, doesn’t she? You’ll have to beat her at her own game. You huff and reach out for that beautiful, wonderful suit.

A sweater sleeve flops onto your wrist. It’s the smallest, most innocuous little movement. Your heart still stops and then does loop-de-loops as you open your mouth to scream and that’s when all the clothes jump off their hangers and dive on top of you knocking you on your butt just out of reach of the perfect suit while socks and blouses and dresses and floofy pants belly-flop on your face.

The thought strikes you as you tear a gorgeous grey evening gown off your face: they’re jealous. Each and every piece of clothing in here wants desperately to be worn, and barring that, they’ll just bury you in a pile of satins and silks.

They’re still clothes. They’re pathetically weak and it’s just that there’s so many of them and the floors are tilting up and away from you, and it feels like you’re wading through quicksand, trying to avoid being dragged under, reaching desperately for the perfect suit just out of reach as socks and pant legs and scarves and sashes wrap around your limbs and add more weight.

Overcome and claim your prize, or else be dragged underneath.

***

Adila!

The bat nearly gets you anyway! It scrabbles a paw in the door after you, and then screeches and flaps away to sulk. Phew! Good time to catch your breath. Looks like this is a nice room, actually, open to the sky. Which is full of ominous black clouds, come to look at it. And... oh, gosh. You can see the whole of Eupheria’s labyrinth rising up above you, a second Argossa made out of the Bazaar. But at least this seems like a fountain room, where you can rest a moment.

“Eupheria!”

Or not?

It’s Juniper Blue! She looks frazzled and exhausted and she has one of the Devil Blades in her hand. Her eyes are spinning spirals like Eupheria’s, and her face is grit with determination.

“By the laws of the Bazaar,” she says, coming towards you with the blade held up in a guard stance, “you are under arrest for wickedness most foul, conspiracy to tyranny, and escape from prison.”

***

Kathelia!

“Leth me go!”
“You’ll be thorry!”
“Thorry, thorry!”

The ceiling of the greenhouse is actually pretty interesting to look at, since it’s been constructed in the Baroque Classical design of Iluminan architecture. That being said, you’d prefer not having to look at it as the Spriggans drag you along to the Burying Plots, where they’ve already got a hole dug just for you. They’ll tip you in feet-first and then pack soil all around you and leave you to stew.

You’d prefer to walk briskly away, of course, but they’ve wrapped a lot of prickly thorn vines all around you, which means you keep getting poked and prodded when you struggle. So you have to lie there, being dragged along the garden paths, having new and very unwelcome experiences in “places thorns can poke you.”

Every time you yell at them, they just start mimicking you until the air is full of your lisp. They only seem to have a rudimentary intelligence, which means it should be simplicity itself to fool them, if only you could figure out a way to do so. A distraction? Fertilizer? Ugh, stop prodding!!

And that’s when you ominously arrive at the Burying Plots. “Plant, plant, plant,” the Spriggans begin to chant, and if you’re going to somehow break free of the thorns, now’s your last chance!