As part of the deal Althaea made, you are to receive some of my power.  Should you not have wanted it, you should have spoken up sooner instead of cowering in the corner.

Do you not want the power required to save your world?  Althaea can not do it alone and if you do not accept it, you will just become another slave in Kyroth's cruel world.

You may want to think about the lesser of two evils child and rethink your decision.

I could feel the magic of the Satyr flowing through me, causing my eyes to glow their normal gold with the proximity to Feywild magic. After my body was through convulsing from the change left by the magic, I stood up from my hands and knees and looked at my companions, The effect on each of you should not be as strong, you are only receiving the magic, not also paying for it.

I look at each of them individually, Magolian will not hurt you unless you provoke him, I promise you that. None of you will be indebted to him, either if that is your worry. You have nothing to lose by accepting his offer.

My gaze stops for longer on Erik's form, Not all Fey are like Granny, I hope one day you can grow to trust me. Magolian does not own me, and he will not unless I renege on our deal. It is okay to accept his gift. You will be stronger for it.

A warning Zail, do not let him antagonize you. This is not a fight we can win today.

I begin walking toward the Satyr. I hate things like this. I feel I’m being used, again. I make it down to his circle without even a thought of it.

Oh, I’m sorry was I standing in the wrong place? Which corner did you wish me to stand in, in the forest. It’s always the same with those like you, wizards and spirits. You have to have your games, your puzzles and riddles. Never can you be straight with anyone. Especially those who don’t understand your games. I hate those games. I trust thieves more than mages and spirits.

Drow leaps from my shoulder and runs to the outer edge of the circle. She’s still agitated and hisses. I look over to Althaea.

There is always a debt. My concern is for who has to pay it.

I make it up to the Satyr, he puts out his hand...waiting. I look at mine and think of my childhood. Then my eyes move to meet his, he’s smiling.

Understand this, I will never be anyone’s slave, ever again. As for the world, I don’t care. My world is gone and I hate this one. What I do now is not for the world or for power. I don’t trust you. I hope to trust Althaea, guess we’ll find out now.

Then against everything I was ever taught and every voice screaming in my head (including Drow), I take his hand.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:54, Wed 19 Aug 2020.

Magorian grabs Zail's elbow rougher than he did Althaeas, and pulls her in close, his lips less than an inch from her face and says, You may hate how and why I conduct myself the way that I do, but there is a reason I am as old and powerful as I am.  I know how to survive.  As a dark elf, I thought you would understand the importance of survival better than the others behind you, but your incompetence, impulsiveness, and naivety will be your downfall.

Magorian leans back, pulling his hand to meet Zails, then quietly mutters a couple words. The power calmly flows through him and into Zail.  When he is done,  Zail, opens her eyes, wondering why he took his hand away.

You presume too much Zail.

It is done.  Who is next?

I walk towards the Satyr and extend my hand. "I am sure one of your experience already knows this but I feel compelled to warn you, those who seek advancement through trickery often find themselves undone by the same. Be careful that your reach not exceed your grasp."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:10, Thu 20 Aug 2020.

I am sure one with your little experience will eventually come to grasp, that patronizing an elder Fey lord, will bring you nothing but pain, suffering, and torment when you least expect it.

The Satyr, with quickling like speed brings Giltris down on top of the mushroom, her arms held behind her back.  As promised.

The power flows through the Satyr and into Giltris, leaving a feeling of nausea.

The Satyr gently releases Giltris and smiles dangerously.

"You are much more powerful than I ancient one but I do not fear you. I cannot control your actions nor influence them with any deed. Heed my warning or not that is your choice. Go in peace neighbour." With my warning given I turn my back on the ancient fey and make my way towards the hunters in the cages.

"Good evening neighbours. We should have you out of here soon; are either of you hurt?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:11, Thu 20 Aug 2020.

Zail and Andraste went to see the satyr after Althaea reassured them. The young drow defied him, the paladin warned him, and he brushed it off like it was nothing. That creature was definitely one to be wary about, and Sand didn’t trust him.

But Althaea had taken the deal, despite the warning her companions had given her. Shrugging at the futility of it all, he took a few steps in the central circle, Clacker following at his side. He looked at his construct and mentally instructed him not to clack, the beetle just slowly opening and closing the razor sharp mandibles. Satisfied that this was the best he would have from the hot headed machine, he stopped about 6 feet from the satyr, head cocked to the side.

Sand won’t threaten or moralize horned one. Sand is curious, what does horned one gain by helping Althaea’s friends to do battle with monster? Amusement to see Althaea’s friend battle and lose? If Althaea dies fighting monster, horned one not get first born. How can horned one ensure that?


Patiently, he waited for the answers.</i>
This message was last edited by the player at 03:46, Thu 20 Aug 2020.

Magorian smiled at the construct.

While this world is a more dire situation,  it does not escape me that the creature's insatiable hunger will not abate,  and he will eventually find his way to the Feywild.   Now, that could be 50 or 200 years from now, but it will happen.

See Sand, if you all manage to stop the creature from being released, I will get my 1st born, as promised. I dont need to ensure the safety of any of you, because if Althaea dies, her royal line ends with her and my family becomes the ruling family.

I've made a deal where I can't lose Sand.  That's how you survive in this broken world, by being smarter and seizing opportunities.

What makes horned one so sure his family will rule Feywild? What claim to throne does horned one have? Sand is curious, wants to understand.

So just to be clear, you would like to know about my family, is that correct? Magorian asks as he sits down, looking at the bowls.  Please, have a seat friend.

Hearing the conversation Sand started with the Satyr, I could not help but shake my head. Was Sand not just berating me for making a deal with him over seemingly nothing and now here he was about to do the same thing. No longer needing to play my fan flute to control my magic, only needing it to be on my person, I subtly pointed my finger at Sand and whispered, He will not give you that information for free. You are asking for it, therefore, you will have to pay a price for it.

Sand cocked his head to the side and thought about what had just transpired between Althaea and the deformed creature. And now, he was offering to the construct to sit down and discuss his family lineage. Despite his brutish appearance and damaged voice, the construct was bright and decided, after hearing the subtle reminder from the bard, that it was not worth it. He still wanted to help Althaea to break this devil’s made deal, but not this way.

He had gambled on getting some information by using his simple speech pattern, had received some but was not willing to pay the price the creature would ask for more, so he shrugged, and followed the path clockwise to the satyr.

Sand has nothing to give in exchange for information horned one offers. Please give Sand power that was already agreed on by Althaea.

In the back of his keen mind, he was already noting to find this information by himself, as he transferred his spear to his shield hand and offered his now free hand to the satyr, almost tempted to use his hidden armblade on the chaotic fey.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:33, Thu 20 Aug 2020.

I agree with you completely Sand.  I'm not really sure what someone as yourself could offer one as me.

The power passes through the Satyr and into the constructs hand, coursing through him like electricity.

Next...

While all the others in turn approached the circle and walked the swirling path to the Satyr to receive what he'd agreed to, Erik remained where he was. His posture stooped and low he paced back and forth like a frightened animal afraid to run away or take any action that might provoke the predator to attack. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he processed everything happening. Again and again he went over the details of the deal as he understood it much like he used to when he had been manipulated before but always before it had been after the fact. There was never a good option with Fey.

He continued to pace, shield pressing into the ground along with his other limbs to make for that odd catering walk.

Althaea had said something that sparked a realization. If someone were to renege on the deal it was off and in favor of the one who did not. But nowhere, not once had it been said they had to go to the Satyr to accept the power. His pacing slowed but his breathing became more labored almost panting. He could run like his body and mind so desperately wanted him to but that could be seen as a backing out and screwing things up for the others. He could go to the Satyr, something he didn't even know if he could make himself physically do so afraid was he at this moment. Or he could change the rules, tweak them ever so slightly. Something inside of him relished the thought of getting one over on a powerful Fey, something he'd never imagined doing before. The rules were clear though, now the Fey had to give Erik this power.

He stopped pacing.

For the first time since their arrival Erik let his eyes meet Magorian's. Briefly. Before shutting them and breathing out. His every muscle in his body tried to refuse him what he did next. Erik, the frightened beast-man sat down. Alone. Outside the circle. He breathed in again and breathed out. Tension across every fiber of his being distorted the vast array of tattoos that covered his chest, shoulders, and arms. Slowly, very slowly, as he breathed with his eyes shut, he raised his hand palm upward to receive what was offered in the deal. His body never stopped shuddering, as if at any moment he would change and dart away.

The Satyr would have to come to him. And doing so would have to change the path to allow all those that had walked in clockwise to walk out clockwise as well, just as he had done for Althaea.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Thu 20 Aug 2020.

Erik apparently intended to force Magorian to come to him - a decision which had the potential to increase not only his debt but Thorn's as well if she walked in the wrong direction or required the satyr to reverse the path for her. The most obvious choice would be entering the circle before the fey could approach, but she daren't risk such rudeness. Still, perhaps another alternative existed . . .

She knew her meager skill with words would never prove sufficient to persuade a panicked human to overcome his fear, yet Erik not only took the form of a fascinating creature, but seemed to share something of its thought processes as well. And she possessed considerable experience reassuring skittish animals. She could only hope it would be enough.

Slowly and cautiously, giving him plenty of time to react, Thorn crouched down putting herself on the male's level. "Erik," she said in a soothing voice. She waited for him to acknowledge her before continuing, "I too have yet to receive my boon. Perhaps we could go together?"

Thorn knew time could well be of the essence, but hard-earned discipline and over a century of practice allowed her to remain calm and collected. Being careful not to invade his personal space, she extended her own hand toward his, silently offering him her support should he choose to grasp it.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:28, Fri 21 Aug 2020.

Sitting there, eyes shut tight, Erik heard and felt Thorn reach out with her words and reassuring presence. It wasn't something he had expected. His trembling lessened but remained. She had the sort of reassurance that could sooth a wild beast and that was exactly what he needed in this moment. However, he knew without a doubt that what he was doing was the correct course of action. In his mind at least. His brows furrowed as he refused to open his eyes. More thoughts and feelings flooded through him in an inexpressible manner. He breathed in deeply again and unfurrowed the brows over his squeezed shut eyes.

"Thank   you." It was barely a whisper hissed through clenched jaw. "But you    go... I, I cant. Not wait for me..."

And he remained where he was. Ready to wait until the deal was fully sealed or disbanded entirely. There would be no extra debt incurred for this, he was sure. Not with the terms already laid out as they were. There was only the manner in which the terms were settled that he had to worry about, but Erik knew pain well, physical and mental, and if any of them were to experience it it might as well be the one who knew it as well as he did.

"As you wish," she replied, her voice still low and even. She rose, expecting to feel nothing more than distaste at seeing a proud creature cower and scorn for those who had caused it to do so, but instead found herself understanding his feelings. She had the vague sense that a word existed for such a thing, but couldn't imagine what it might be.

She shook her head once to clear her peculiar reaction then checked the path briefly to ensure it still wound in the correct direction. With luck, given Erik's permission to proceed him and the negligible length of the delay, she'd avoided incurring more debt. She circled her way to Magorian and bowed to him courteously.

Despite the satyr's great power, Thorn knew she would not receive what she most desired from him. Even were the price not too high, it would hardly be to his benefit. Still, she respected his skill and cunning. It would be very interesting to discover the nature of the gift he chose to balance the scale, particularly given his hints that he knew the shape of the future.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:32, Fri 21 Aug 2020.

Magorian watched as the wood elf slowly and methodically walked the circle, while the other one remained obstinately outside it.  Keeping his eyes on the untamed beast, a thought came to mind, and when it did, he gave his full attention to the elf who started to bow to him.

In mid-bow, he grabbed the elf by the back of the neck, throwing her face down in the mushroom, not allowing the elf to breathe, the mushroom soft enough to mold around the front of her face.  The sheer power in his hand left Thorn defenseless, struggling for just an ounce of breath.

This is on YOU beast.  You think disrespecting an elder Fey doesn't come without consequences?  Now the game has changed!  You have about 1 minute, maybe two, before her air runs out. I've rescinded my invitation on all but you beast.  This is now your problem.  You and yours alone.  Oh, and I wouldn't stray from the path if I were you...

Suddenly the fey circle changed in a blink of an eye, becoming a maze of erratic paths now leading all throughout the grove, with multiple entrances and exits, dead ends and long, winding, seemingly never-ending paths.  The flowers, taking on a deadlier dark purple and growing to almost 3 feet in height; large thorns now protruding from them, dripping with a black ichor.

Tick, tock.

With his eyes shut tight, and for good reason, he couldn't see the changes that occured, only hear the threat... This is on you... He flinched. This is on you. This is on You. It echoed through his mind and the voice changed and distorted and became that of one he had known. To anyone else it would sound like a kindly old woman. It was a phrase he had heard again and again as others were inflicted and it had always been his fault. She never let it happen without making him know it was his fault.

Eyes shut, the trembling in his whole person intensified and he began to rock where he was.

Tick Tock. This is on you. Seconds passed and he remained.

THIS is on You... Tick.. Tock... He stayed where he was, he couldn't open his eyes for fear of seeing what it was that he would feel guilty for. Someone's air was running out... This felt wrong.

This is on You foolish child. She wasn't here, she couldn't be.

"Your... Bargain. Was    made. And accepted." It hissed out of him as he thrust his hand upward again waiting. And for just a moment, his trembling stilled. And then in beautiful Sylvan. "This is on You ancient one. Fulfill your covenant." Just speaking this tongue seemed to wravk him with pain...

You are correct, beast.  A deal was made.  I shall give you your power.  Of course, I'm a little busy at the moment, so let's say, in about 3 minutes then?  Excellent.

The muffled screams of Thorn could be heard, as she struggled, her breath waning.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:47, Fri 21 Aug 2020.

"Deal." And he stayed where he was. Patiently waiting for the time to pass all the while trembling and second guessing himself.

So this was the cost of her failure - to soothe Erik and to keep up her guard around a creature she knew to be dangerous. She couldn’t breathe and the force of the satyr’s hand had all but snapped her delicate neck. His power was incredible - she doubted the entire party could overcome him, even should they choose to come and manage arrive in time. Yet she forced herself to remain calm; panic would only cause the end to come more swiftly. She had always assumed her death would be brutal and gory as opposed to deeply ironic and ignominious. Yet there was little she could do to prevent it from her current position, save hope that Magorian was bluffing and his invitation provided her with a degree of protection, allowing him to threaten but not kill her.

Then she heard Aisling shriek in rage, and recalled that although trapped, she was neither alone nor wholly unable to affect her fate. Thorn quickly signed to the mechanical kite to fly to the beast-man and guide him through the maze. With another cry - this time tinged with frustration and regret - her stimfay soared away, leaving his companion behind in hopes of saving her.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Fri 21 Aug 2020.

Magorian, his face raging in anger , picked up Thorn's head; Thorn immediately taking the opportunity to take in a deep breath, gasping for air, just as an electrical jolt of power surged into her.  Throwing her to the side, NEXT

The path suddenly changed, leading straight to the beast, though for as second all was silent, like the calm before the storm.  With each quiet step, energy surged around the Satyr, those nearby feeling their hair stand up on end.  Moving with the speed of a cheetah, the Satyr closed the distance to the beast quickly, grabbing his arm.

The pain that followed was unprecedented.  Erik's whole body, writhed in agony as he could feel every cell in his body screaming to stop. Whispering in the beasts ear, Magorian says, <bold>"You may have won this battle, but the war is mine.  Know that once Althaea fulfills her promise, I'm coming for you and the pain you're feeling now, will feel like a summer's breeze across your skin compared to the torture that will come.  Know this and never forget it.</b> The power surged into Erik and Magorian left him there to crumble to the floor, from his sitting position.

My end of the bargain is now complete Althaea.  I look forward to your 1st born. NOW GET OUT!

Suddenly, the grove goes dark, and in moments, is lit again.  The two cages of the hunters, now opened not by the door, but like a flower petal in bloom; the hunters now free.  The circle, the flowers, the mushroom and tree stumps, and Magorian....all gone.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:46, Mon 12 July 2021.

The agony that ripped through him was more than anything he had felt before. He heard the words of Magorian and somewhere registered what they meant but in that moment his sole feeling was one of agony. Pure, raw, Physical agony. His mind however, in some small corner of it, rejoiced that his actions had not meant the extended suffering of another. He could take this. A physical change began to occur in his body as he crumpled to the ground. As the Satyr and his grove vanished something new etched its way into Erik's skin. He had changed many times and it had always been something smooth, a gentle transition. This was something forced upon him in the most painful way possible. Internally things shifted and pulled and tore away from where they were. Erik tried to breathe as he writhed on the ground and found himself experiencing what had been threatened toward Thorn. Suffocation. No air made its way into his trachea, no lungs would fill. Perhaps there were no lungs Too fill.

A series of something that looked like a blend between his tattoos and a massive wound began to open up along his torso. These were more real and more physically present than his tattoos though. This was a change to his very person. As time passed and he continued to struggle to breathe the wounds in his side began to do something else. They flexed and shifted, and the feeling of suffocation eased...


It took time getting used to. Erik lay there on the ground. Struggling to make the new respiratory system work. It was painful, the wounds were raw and in the dirt. Finally he opened his eyes and looked up into the sky. If he could have sighed in relief he would have. Instead he merely bore through this new found and seemingly ever present burning pain.