[Pendragon RP] 489 Adventure - "Always Salisbury"

Pendragon: Tales of Chivalry and Sorcery is the place to go if you want to play Pendragon. Cpt._Funkotron will be your GM, with assistance from CarrieVS.

Re: [Pendragon RP] 489 Adventure - "Always Salisbury"

Postby Scarik » Thu Sep 12, 2019 12:51 am

I am replying below.
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Re: [Pendragon RP] 489 Adventure - "Always Salisbury"

Postby roobeastie » Thu Sep 12, 2019 12:57 am

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Re: [Pendragon RP] 489 Adventure - "Always Salisbury"

Postby Ladki96 » Thu Sep 12, 2019 5:15 am

I am replying above the other players who will join ! :P
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Re: [Pendragon RP] 489 Adventure - "Always Salisbury"

Postby Cpt._Funkotron » Thu Sep 12, 2019 11:29 pm

Summer Solos

Eliver - The Plight of the Pigherds

The sun is out for what may feel like the first time in a week, and through intermittent cover of clouds, it shines down on the bustling outer ward of Tilshead, a large castle-town in the west of Salisbury. A crowd of squires, knights, and idle soldiers has gathered around the riding yard to witness Jack, a plump and jittering youth take his run at the quintain. Uneasily atop his horse with an ashen pole awkwardly in hand, all eyes are on the young squire. Sir Eliver "The Swift", the young newly-appointed Castellan of Tilshead, watches from a folding chair with even expression.

A few silent moments go by. A few scattered whispers break out in the back, to be quickly hushed. The boy looks to the knight, and receives a kind nod in reply. With trepidation he kicks his heels into the horses flanks and sets off towards his target, a shield attached to a swiveling arm. It looks like he is off to a good start for the first few seconds, but as he draws near to the quintain, his nerves get the better of him as he grasps at his reins, causing the beast to jerk right but not before his pole has made contact with the shield and the weighted arm has swung around to strike him in the back of the head and off of his horse.

A combined gasp, groan, and stifled chuckle emanates from the crowd all at once. Pocket money changes hands, and a few of the young squire's fellows help him out of the mud while a groom retrieves the horse. Sir Eliver rises and walks out into the center.

He checks the back of the boy's head, and concludes that no real harm has been sustained, before patting him on the back and sending him back into the crowd.

"I think we all owe Jack here our thanks in demonstrating the danger of hesitation. If he were up against something a little more formidable than this sack of gravel here, he'd have lost the head."

Just then Will, the town Bailiff, begs a word with Sir Eliver. He leaves another knight in charge of the training, and some other squire takes his turn on the horse.

Eliver and Will walk together out of the hole in the wall where the foundations are now being laid for a stone gatehouse, to replace the old wooden one. Will walks and talks. Much of the country around Tilshead is heavily wooded, or had been until the great wildfire half a year ago, now there is but acre upon acre of ash. The forest will regrow in time, but the smallfolk who had relied upon the woods for their livelihoods were left in the lurch. The worst-hit had been the swineherds. Ordinarily, much of the rural woodland was used for feeding swine, who feasted on acorns, roots, truffles, roughage and the like, but overnight that source of forage went up in smoke. Ordinarily a pig farmer might sell off some of his stock to buy dry feed to keep the rest going, but ever since Eliver himself bought up most of the county's surplus grain reserves last year to save Woodford from the famine, the market price of grain has skyrocketed. Many swineherds found no choice but to sell off all their stocks entirely just to feed their families, but when all the swineherds of the area began coming into Tilshead to sell all of their animals around the same time as each other, the going price for pigs predictably plummeted. Now dozens of rural families, who until last year had been free and relatively prosperous, are now destitute. Meanwhile, the butchers of the town have prospered greatly from the abundant and ludicrously cheap source of pork. Three new shops have opened in the last month, a caravan route has been established carting salt north from Exeter, and a Butcher's Fair is now taking place in the market, with tradesmen from Sarum, Wilton, and as far afield as Warminster displaying their wares; every variety of sausage, ham, jerky, chops, ribs, or rashers imaginable. But pork is not the only flesh for sale on the market.

An old man, a former swineherd, is bargaining with three men for the sale of three of his daughters into slavery. They apparently have nine brothers and sisters too young to work, and no prospect of marriage. The daughters seem to have volunteered themselves out of duty. There are three interested buys arguing with the father over their price; a Cornish salt merchant, a local Butcher, and the owner of the town's Brothel. The old man is demanding at least £1 for each of his daughters; the Butcher and the Salt-Merchant are holding firm at 10 shillings, and the Brothel-Owner is going as high as 15, but the father doesn't want to sell to him; 'let them at least be concubines rather than whores', he may well reason. The argument is getting rather heated, which is why Eliver was summoned; the bailiff didn't want to risk offending such estimable locals by breaking them up with common guards.

Eliver may roll Orate or Courtesy to talk the argument down elegantly.

Opportunity for a Generous and Merciful Checkmark if he pays the £3 to save the young women from slavery.

Persidius - A Duel for Love

Life at court in Sarum resumes much as it always has. Roderick sits on his throne again, with his sword arm in a sling. Sir Kennian's son Ypas is adjusting to life with an eyepatch, to being accordingly renamed "Eyepatch" by his fellow squires, although never when his mother is in earshot. Sir Persidius and Lady Elaine continue to exchange guilty looks of longing. The Court Champion of Salisbury has had little cause to swing his sword of late; his ever-growing celebrity causing many plaintiffs to forfeit their cases against the Earl rather than face his deadly blade. The only duels he finds himself fighting are against those knights who have sought him personally out as the man to beat. On one occasion, a young female squire rushes into the hall and begs a word with him.

She explains that her master, Sir Alan, is a young, poor knight only last month given his spurs. He is madly in love with a lady far above his station, and her father refuses to accept his suit for her hand until he has proven himself worthy, and bested the greatest swordsman in the land in single combat. Sir Alan, in his passion, rashly accepted the challenge, and is now making all haste to Castle Salisbury to make good on his vow. The squire explains that she has only just managed to outpace him on the road so that she might make this plea of Persidius: throw the duel. She says that Sir Alan is of little skill at arms being as young as he is, and so mad with love that if he is bested yet survives, he will assuredly destroy himself in some other way.

Only a few minutes later, Sir Alan himself strides into the Great Hall, in the flesh. He looks young for twenty-one, but with a firmness of purpose in his posture and in his eyes. His armor looks old and rusted in places, most likely second-hand. He throws down a brown mitten, where a richer knight may have thrown a glove, and challenges Persidius to a duel.

If Persidius takes a dive, he suffers an unopposed strike, and earns a checkmark in Valorous, Merciful, and Modest.
If Persidius doesn't take a dive, he may fight the duel normally and earn a checkmark in Sword and Proud.

Miles - Kidnapping

It was decided to be for the best that Lady Ella, just now past her tenth birthday, be brought up away from court at Sarum. At Wylye, she is not constantly in the place where her father died, nor under constant siege from ambitious bachelors hoping to secure her fortune when she is of age to marry. It is a beautiful summer, and although still of a quiet and melancholy disposition, the girl seems to adjust well to a more modest country life. Mile's mother Lady Felolilie is her primary caretaker, along with her governess Dwyn. One day, Felolie takes Ella and Dwyn out walking to pick some flowers from a nearby meadow, taking one of the guards with them as an escort, under protest. An hour later, an old shepherd who lives down the road comes hobbling up to the walls of Wylye manor in a panic, reporting that bandits had come from the woods, killed the guard, and abducted the women.

Roll Hunting to pursue them.
Optionally, roll Love (Family) for a possible bonus.
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Re: [Pendragon RP] 489 Adventure - "Always Salisbury"

Postby Kivutar » Wed Sep 18, 2019 10:01 pm

Miles' mother has another girl-child that summer. They name her Teleri, and everyone dotes on her, Iblis in particular. Tom, who after the initial awkwardness is fitting into his new family fairly well, makes her a little rattling bucket, and Miles can't stop laughing when he sees it. After that, of course the toddlers must have buckets made for them, and soon they're chasing each other in circles and attempting to break them over each others' heads. Lady Ella is much too old for such things, but she occasionally provokes them to greater wildness and watches the results with great amusement.

Miles spends most of his time training with the spear, along with his squire Dylan, who is quite promising for one not brought up to it.

Following immediately after Funk's solo prompt.

Miles and his men drop everything and thunder off in pursuit. It doesn't take them long to find the miscreants. Lady Ella buries her face in his mother's skirts, but the two of them are unharmed, guarded by one bandit as the others abuse Dwynn cruelly. Miles runs his spear through that one at once, and the others are quickly finished off by his men.

Moments later, the sole surviving bandit is pleading for his life. "Spare me, and I'll tell you who sent us!" he whines.

"Is that so?" says Miles. "Then I have a different offer for you, swine. Every moment I wait for the name, your life is one hour longer!" He has no idea if he can stomach what that entails, but he glares so menacingly at the bandit that it doesn't make any difference.

"The P-praetor of Levcomagus!" bleats the ruffian. Miles isn't surprised in the least. He waits until Lady Ella is out of sight, then unsheaths his dagger and hands it to Dwyn.

"Get your vengeance," he says, gesturing towards the bound bandit. Furiously, she stabs him about forty times before he finally stops crying and twitching.

Over the next few days, he questions everyone in the household. Surely someone must have informed the bandits, for them to find such an opportunity. Eventually, one of the guards mentions that he had seen the dead guard himself, Ed, talking to some rough-looking men in a tavern about a week prior. They decide that he must have been the traitor, and that the bandits had murdered him in lieu of payment.

"Blains will sorely regret this," says Miles. "We must write to every ally we have!" Soon, he and Felelolie are hunched over a table, grimly deciding on the fine points of wording.

Terrwyns nonsense
“Please, for the last time, tell me you’re kidding.”

“I am! …is what I wish I could say. C’mon, it’s not so bad,” Terrwyn climbs into the saddle. “You’ll adjust, you’ll manage, you always do! Alright? I’m off!”

“Wai-!” But Horsie is already galloping away.

“I’ll send news with the caravaaaaaaans!”

Diane sighs.

Casa de Persi

You know what? Life sucks. You work hard to earn your money and respect back and these kids, your own flesh and blood, don’t appreciate it at all. Don’t the tiny rascals understand they’re not getting kidnapped by a stranger? They’re getting kidnapped by their mother! There’s absolutely no reason to cry!

The little one cries even harder at that, clinging on to Julia for dear life. “Dun’ wanna leaaaave!”
Lady Adwen gently takes Sir Terrwyn aside. “Rhiannon has recently become interested in the cosmic plan. Children her age don’t ask “why” questions until at least a year or two later. I sense great potential in her; it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Terrwyn frowns. So, what, pin all her hopes on a single girl? True, Mair has never been sick a day in her life but… Cerridwen, you asshole, you had to do this to me!

“If this is what the Dark Goddess wants,” Terrwyn huffs, “who am I to interfere? But the girls will keep trying to meet each other at every opportunity their whole life, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want that headache.”
Lady Adwen muses, “Perhaps, if they did not know about each other? They are still quite young, and in time they will forget all if the other is never mentioned again.”

A distressing idea, but a sound one. Rhiannon needs to avoid all worldly temptation going ahead. Terrwyn agrees at once.

Also, she hugs Persi before leaving, just because she can SCARIK sticks tongue out


At long last, a sense of security and being loved! o/ Every day is a lovely day at the castle, and she would die for the beautiful Lady <3 And the Duchy too, ofc.

Her marriage is p. great too! Sir Jordanus:

1) lets her practise swordplay
2) doesn’t insist on her dressing/behaving as a lady
3) doesn’t humiliate her in front of others to establish his senior status, because he isn’t an insecure bitch
4) doesn’t seek out other women in Sarum Tintagel
5) keeps his hands to himself until she assents (not that she has trouble doing that <_< she needs a spare now that the second one has gone and made herself the prayer!) and
6) doesn’t mind that there is no baby within the year!

/o/ o/ o

Terrwyn takes command of her husband’s finances at once, and her wise management has the money rolling in like never before (Smell that? That’s the sweet smell of critting Stewardship) When Mair finally doesn’t weep once the whole day, Terrwyn hopes that things have settled down.

Until of course, the letter arrives. Escorted by armed guards, no less. >_>

My dearest knight,
I hope you fare well. This cannot repay all the kindness you have shown me, but I hope it proves useful.
A humble serving girl

Jordanus is surprised, to put it mildly. “Why would a Frankish princess send you a hundred libra?”

Terrwyn crushes the note and blinks several times before managing, “I have no idea.”

A fortnight later, another note arrives, but much closer in origin. Sir Miles! He has been dealt with most terribly by the Praetor of Levcomagus and wishes to repay the favour. Everything comes flooding back, all that she has tried to suppress – her love, the treacherous surprise, the humiliation, the near-death – and Terrwyn feels as if she would burst. Controlling herself, she instructs her squire to pack her bags. She needs to pay Blains a visit.

A few weeks later, Felelolie pulls Miles aside. "The poor girl is pregnant."

"She's sure?"


He feels horribly responsible. She'd been under his roof, and he hadn't been able to protect her. "We'll have to get a new governess for Ella," he says. "But we can't just cast her out... she'll stay here, and the child too."

Eliver agrees to the venture, but with reluctance. "The dog deserves it," he says. "And any other year I'd be for it, you know I would. But I have a bad feeling about this. Think of how the Summerland raid turned out - is this not the same thing, so soon after?" He shakes his head, "This isn't the same; we know we're in the right this time. My thumbs prick, that's all."

"So you won't come?" asks Miles.

"Of course I will."

Persidius offers to join as well, mainly for his cousin's sake. That offer is readily accepted; prickly though he may be, clearly the Lord of Wayford is a friend in a time of need. Miles resolves to forget about that moment of mad bravado in King Cadwy's court.

Leiryn, who had been briefly captured by Levcomagus during the war against the Franks, is more than happy to get his own back and then some. Those are all of the knights of Salisbury who will join. Roderick cannot be seen supporting such a raid, or it could lead to war with Blains' lord Ulfius, so they have little help. Unofficially, they know he hopes they succeed.

He hadn't really expected Terwynn, but she appears nonetheless, terrifyingly eager. All the better.

They must strike quickly, or all could be lost. As soon as all are gathered, they ride.

Bestow righteous thumbs upon Lads.
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Re: [Pendragon RP] 489 Adventure - "Always Salisbury"

Postby CarrieVS » Thu Sep 26, 2019 10:49 pm

Eliver's initial reaction is disgust. Thinking of Eleri - toddling now, saying "Mama" - and the squalling bundle newly christened Elaine, he can scarcely conceive of a man stooping to such an unfatherly act. Yet if it were that or see his other children starve... As for the would-be buyers, the two of them having the nerve to drive a hard bargain over such a pitiful situation, and the third!

He steps into the middle of the argument and addresses the buyers. "I'll have no disorder in my market. If you will not bargain with civil tongues in your heads you may begone," he barks, and though he makes no motion that threatens violence he looks so furious that the three of them beat a hasty retreat.

The would-be seller looks terrified, offering a jumble of apologies, excuses and assurances, "I beg your pardon, M'lord, it'll not happen again. I didn't go to start any trouble, M'lord, on my life I didn't mean to, it's only that I must feed the little ones somehow, M'lord."

"And with three pounds you could feed them all?"

"Three pounds'd keep us a tidy while, M'lord, mayhap until things are better." His voice cracks a little, "If I could only get it some other way, but they was ready to do it, M'lord, for the sake of the little ones. On my life, I'd not have done it if they'd not agreed to it, not no matter what."

"Then three pounds you shall have, and there'll be no more of this nonsense?"

"Oh M'lord, thank you." He beckons to the three girls, one of whom is in tears, but the other two are putting on a brave face, "Here now. I know you'll be good to them, M'lord, thank you."

Eliver's voice had softened somewhat but now it goes cold, "You misunderstand me. Three pounds you shall have, and I will have your word that you will take your daughters home and treat them as you should."

It is a moment before the father understands, and then for some time he can only stammer his thanks, and call the girls to come and give theirs too.

"It would ease your burdens, perhaps, to see these three decently married," Eliver suggests. And perhaps ease his temptation too, he thinks privately.

"I'd like nothing better, M'lord, but there's not a chance of it. There's none of the sort of folk I know who're in any position to wed just now, and I can't spare a farthing for a dowry for any of my girls - not even with your kindness, M'lord, for that must keep us all until I can earn a decent living again."

"I daresay I can find three men in want of wives, though. Your daughters look to be strong and healthy, and from what I can see uncommon brave and dutiful girls too, and you may let me worry about dowries."

"That they are, and they deserve better than I can give them," their father agrees, "God bless you for your mercy, M'lord."

Gwiona remonstrates mildly that if word gets about half the swineherds in Tilshead will be wanting him to pay their daughters' dowries. But then she catches up little Eleri and holds her tight to her breast for a long time. They reckon on another pound for each girl, and with such a sum it is easy enough to find three husbands willing to wed a swineherd's daughter.

There is a journeyman butcher who has finished his apprenticeship and set up shop, and is finding business good.

There is a smith, a widower with three children, the eldest too young to take care of the babies, who is at his wits' end trying to mind them and his forge at the same time.

And there is William, a man at arms at Tilshead. The son of a thatcher, he had become squire to a landless knight, and travelled a good deal of Logres as his master sold his lance wherever he could - Eliver himself once employed him for a season. Yet the knight had died of the flux, and having no living kin, his squire had sold his gear and put aside a tidy sum, and having also taken up a more settled employment he is very happy to take a wife.

Not actually final winter post as some of it has to take place after the battle etc. But I will most certainly be back for 490.
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Re: [Pendragon RP] 489 Adventure - "Always Salisbury"

Postby KleinerKiller » Tue Oct 08, 2019 11:39 am

Post I've been meaning to write up for a while, might or might not have something else to add whenever Funk writes up the big battle thing. Obviously I'm in for the next adventure and all those for the foreseeable future.


Dirt? Sand? Lukewarm snow?

Leiryn's eyes drift open, though he had not realized they were closed to begin with. The only thing he processes at first is the thing that sparked his thoughts: the little flecks of something dry and powdery brushing across his face, sticking briefly before peeling off and floating away. He tries to focus his eyes against the dark orange sky, but all he can make out are the most insubstantial glimpses of the irritating little things, which curve and twist around in unpredictable patterns as they fall.


No, he assures himself, shuddering at the thought -- and realizing, as his muscles sluggishly contract, that he is standing. Gently as he can, unsure of himself now, he lifts a finger to his cheek and scrapes some of the dusty substance off. Against his skin, it's bone white.

... Ash.

The instant the word comes to him, his heart threatens to hammer out of his chest. No, no, not here, not now. He has gone so long without a horrible vision, it can't start up again in full force after so much good has come into his life. He spins around, fully waking now, eyes peeled for the first sign of a nightmarish melting face, struggling to remember the techniques he uses to relax and breathe-

Where... What?

His body goes slack again, but he remains fully alert, now more than ever. Because he isn't in his room at Winterbourne or out training in the fields. He isn't... anywhere, it would seem. All that stretches around him is an endless sea of gray-and-white sand -- no, ash -- raining from a dark orange sky that he can't seem to focus on even as he cranes his head straight up. There is nothing else, neither landmarks nor people nor fantastical monsters. He is as alone as he's ever been.

... Dreaming. He's dreaming. He almost slaps himself for being so stupid.

Sighing, he plants himself down in the ashy plain, which feels soft but far too strange to be comfortable. Merely a nightmare, of course. He can wait it out, and he will awake to a new day of a life he finally enjoys living. He lets his eyes drift closed again, listening to the echoing rustle of thousands of ash flakes brushing up against each other. The seconds will tick by. All this will pass, and he probably won't even remember it by the time he's up.

"Come on, tough guy, don't be like that."

Every muscle in Leiryn's body tries to spring up at once, sending him half to his feet and then twisting onto his side, landing with a hard thump that kicks up a warm cloud around him. His eyes shoot open and dart around, but despite his awkward position, there is no need to search. He can see with perfect clarity.

"We didn't get to talk much last time, did we? Even here, you were completely out of it. I just thought now would be as good a time as any to visit."

There... she stands. His mistress, profiled against the orange sky that now seems to burn around her, standing proud in armor adorned with the teeth and finger bones of her enemies. But she is different from the visions. No matter how long he stares, her face fails to melt and distort, fails to scream at him with a mouth full of smoke and suffocating flame. Her eyes are unmelted, radiating energy. Fire envelopes her, to be sure, but rather than eat away at the unscarred patch of her face, it dances around it, flows from within it. When her lips part to speak, he sees these same flames inside her, coexisting rather than destroying.

Arcadia sits down next to him, helping him back up with one hand, and he feels the heat emanating from within her armor. "You're shocked, clearly. Guess you don't remember the first time?"

He numbly starts to shake his head, but now it seems so clear: the visions he had through his first near-death, between the wyvern tearing into him and the waters reawakening him. He was here, silent and confused for what seemed like only a few moments, but warmed by her presence nonetheless. A haze had cleared from his mind as soon as he'd seen her, and even though he had forgotten as soon as he woke up, that feeling of newfound energy remained.

"Are you...?" Leiryn starts to ask, stumbling over his words. "You're not... real, are you?"

She shrugs, a rough smirk plastered across her crackling face, and starts playing with a bone strung on her shoulder. "Maybe. Maybe not. Probably not. Well, do you think I'd be able to tell you convincingly one way or the other?"

Against all odds, he finds himself chuckling. "Right. So... you're not real. Of course, you never were. After you died, I mean. Just my mind showing me the worst things I could imagine, trying to crack under the pressure. I knew that."

Her smirk remains, even as she fixes him with a stare that, through the smoke and smoldering light, feels genuinely affectionate. She says nothing, letting his words hang.

"Why am I seeing you now, then?"

"I think you know as well as I do."

This time, it is Leiryn's turn to be silent. He does know, but hearing her say it -- hearing that husky voice somehow unchanged by a blazing throat, the voice he hadn't heard in years -- means something. He might not ever get to hear it again.

After some time, she sighs, though her expression barely changes. "You're makin' a name for yourself, Leiryn. You're conquering armies, taking on magic and monsters. You've earned yourself a knighthood, fought alongside the rest of the guys who probably barely remember me, and, hell, you're a baron now. And hey, you scored yourself a hot princess!" She gives him a hard clap on the back, almost sending him tumbling into the ash again before he catches himself. "Even sealed the deal before you were set to marry her, right under her father's nose. You've got a lot to be proud of. You're your own man, not just some squire fawning over me."

Leiryn feels himself flushing red, and he can't help but smile at her words.

"'Course," she continues, "you also got your ass handed to you by a giant frog. Could've drowned right there, just a few days after your dramatic escape from death, right before you got betrothed. How embarrassing would that have been? Maybe make sure that doesn't happen again. If I am real after all, it'll be pretty awkward for me to give you this big speech and send you back to the land of the living, just to meet you back here right away."

"I understand, mis- er, Arcadia." He intertwines his fingers with hers, feeling her strength again while he has the chance. "I assure you, I will... I will try to live for as long as I can."

Arcadia nods and breaks his gaze to stare into the distance, her cocky expression finally flattening out. "You know... I realize I wasn't a very good person when I was alive. You fell head over heels for me pretty quickly, special thanks to that succubus, but I was... selfish. Reckless. Maybe a little too over-the-top, even if those Saxon bastards deserved everything I did. You were a thug to start with, but look at you now. You're better than I ever was, and..." She pauses, taking in a long, rattling breath. "Better than I probably would've ever been. We might have had fun together, for a while, but I think you found someone better fit for you. And I... I'm happy for you. For whatever that's worth, given present context."

Leiryn nods, reluctantly releasing her hand. She turns to him again, and for just an instant, everything he felt before he met Avice comes rushing back. He considers giving her the last kiss he'd spent so long regretting the absence of, but even if she is just a facet of his unconscious mind, something tells him that it would no longer be right. Instead, he wraps his arms under hers and embraces her, resting his head on her armored shoulder, wincing instinctively as the flames painlessly nip at his cheek. She responds in kind, wrapping him in a hug so tight that he catches himself worrying his spine might snap.

Then, without a word, they part.

"One more thing before you wake up, Leiryn."

The last thing I might ever hear her say, if I never hallucinate again. "What?"

She stands, dusts herself off, and stares down at him with her playful grin returned. "Don't you ever let anything happen to our daughter, understand? I don't care whether I'm real or not, I will rip my way out of here, flay you alive, and feed you to those bears."

She turns away before he can even think to answer, takes a single step, and vanishes into the ashes.


Leiryn awakens in his bed, almost smiling to himself.

Goodbye, mistress.
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