The manor's breakfast balcony overlooks the ocean, and catches the morning sun as well. This area also serves as a basking zone, with several sculpted stones for lounging upon not far from the low serving table. The breakfast laid out includes fish and rice, soup and fried eggs along with a selection of fruits and pickled vegetables. And of course there is green tea.

Umeko is feeling just a bit sore this morning. Holding action poses for extended periods isn't exactly something she was trained for, and her muscles remind of that. What she really could use right now is one of Xander's hot-hands massages - but there's no sign of the Lapi yet. So far it is just herself, Lord Kazuhiko and the artist Hokusai, who looks like he's spent the night drinking rice wine.

Umeko rolls her shoulders. "I feel as though I spent all night holding one of Master Longtooth's gourds in my arms," she remarks as she slips out onto the balcony. "I am not built to be a model, it seems," she adds as she kneels down onto one of the thin pillows surrounding the low table.

"You are an ideal model," Kazuhiko counters. "Your form is perfect of line and curve, and your grace is like a stream of cherry blossoms in a gentle breeze."

"You are too kind. Alas my body tells me that I make a very poor statue, though. I am built for movement and sinew, not stillness," Umeko admits as she bows her head. She glances at the odd kirin when her head rises and she asks, "Would you like me to serve you this morning?" She even gestures to the table. An odd offer for her; she's rarely offered to do that for, well, anyone.

"I would be honored, Lady Tsuguri," the Kirin lord notes, smiling. "Perhaps you would be amenable to a more active form of posing?" he suggests.

"My body would be, most certainly," Umeko agrees as she sets out several small tea cups. Filling them is an art of simple and fluid movements involving both hands grasping the pot to direct it to each of the cups in turn. Once finished, she selects one of the cups, then rises. A few steps and she is kneeling before the kirin, her head bowed. The cup is then offered to him in two outstretched hands. A gesture of submissiveness; expected of kiriga ladies yes, but not something she does often.

"This somehow seems.. unsuited to your nature," Kazuhiko notes as he takes the cup.

"Perhaps, but it is a matter of respect; I am in your house," Umeko points out, "And it does no harm for me to pretend to be well behaved." The latter comes with a playful grin as she rises.

Hokusai gives a slight snort, and notes, "My dear, nobody in this House is well-behaved." Because he's a famous artist.. well, he can get away with that. Kazuhiko doesn't seem intent on correcting him or denying the claim.

"We are well behaved when it is expected," the Kirin confides to Umeko, after a moment, just so she doesn't get upset.

"Good, then I will enjoy my time here. And I hope not too well behaved, because now you have me curious," Umeko notes as she now moves to gather some small bits of fish to feed to the odd creature.

Kazuhiko seems inordinately amused by being fed fish by his guest. "Are you really sore from posing?" he finally asks.

"I am sore, yes. Uncomfortable, but not debilitating," Umeko remarks as she continues to feed her host. Her movements are ... intimate in a fashion. she is close, and occasionally she 'inadvertantly' touches the kirin; possibly an accident, possibly not. But it would e hard to prove it wasn't.

"I should remedy this," the Lord notes. "I have made some extensive study of therapeutic massage using heated rapeseed oil instead of the traditional hot stones."

"I would not complain. I must admit the chance to be massaged by such a handsome gentleman does sound pleasing," Umeko admits. "Though, it may drive my friend Xander to drink knowing it was not him, or that he missed it."

"I would not worry so much about your companion 'missing out' on anything," Kazuhiko notes with a chuckle. "It may be some time before my daughter releases him."

"You always have," the Kirin notes, then glances to the artist. "Although it would be useful to have some illustrations done at the same time."

"Well, then I am doubly honored, a good breakfast and a handsome lord to tend to me," Umeko remarks. She even reaches out and runs her fingers along the line of his jaw.

"Well then," Kazuhiko says, brushing the back of Umeko's hand with his tail-tuft, "let us away to the studio.."

Umeko catches the tuft of his tail in her fingers, then curls them around, wrapping the hair between them. "Lead on then, my Lord. I am yours for the day it seems," she says as she rises.

Artist's Studio
Well lit with skylights and windows, this room atop the manor is ideal for artwork. There is a large floor, a reclining couch, and several rolled backdrops available. Zolk canvases are stacked ready, along with a vast array of colored inks in large and small vessels.

Furniture has been moved about. There's a long chaise lounge covered in fanciful brocade off to one side, and what looks like a portable stone-tiled bathing area (on wheels no less), complete with a drain. Kazuhiko heats the oil over a coal oven while Hakusai sets up his canvas where the angle seems best.

Umeko glances towards the vessel and the warming oil. Without a word, or being asked, she begins to undress. It's rather like she's shedding skin with the ease upon which she removes her clothing. With each step bits slide form her and down to the floor. "Will this be satisfactory?" she asks of the kirin; she's looking just over her shoulder with her hips tilted just so to make her body curve from his view of her back.

Kazuhiko turns to look, and says, "Quite perfect my lady.." and then he has to slap the paper fan he was using to blow air of the coals, since it catches fire while he was distracted. "It will just be a moment more. You can kneel on the basin if you wish.."

"There are few I would kneel before; but I would kneel before you," Umeko says as she slinks, almost slithers with sinewy movement over to the basin. Soon she's slithering her body onto it, then kneeling there with her hands placed on her thighs.

Kazuhiko follows soon after, carrying the bowl of warmed, clear oil. He sets it down in the basin and then removes his own kimono. He's fairly well endowed, unless that's just how Kirin's are. It would be best not to mention it to Xander though.

Umeko may have been around others too long, for she actually says, "Your horn is impressive, my Lord." Her eyes crinkle in amusement, but she otherwise remains kneeling before him.

"I do try to impress when I can," Kazuhiko notes, and dips his hands into the oil before applying them to Umeko's shoulders. The Kirin's hands are naturally warm, but the oil's ability to actually be absorbed by skin and scale makes it excellent for transferring heat. The Lord's hands are also very strong as he works the stiff muscles.

Umeko's head tilts and soon she actually lets out a small hiss. It's a bit painful; muscles complain at being moved. But, the pain eases slowly into a dull ache. "I do hope you can forgive my behavior," she admits, "There are not many I feel ... comfortable and safe with enough to allow a rest of social expectations."

"I am actively trying to encourage your behavior," Kazuhiko claims and grins, while moving down along Umeko's back. "You do not mind that I am attempting to seduce you, do you Lady Tsuguri?"

Umeko's own tail flicks up to tickle a bit of the kirin. "I have ... submitted to you, my Lord. I believe that is my answer," she claims, smiling a bit deviously. "I am quite enjoying it."

Kazuhiko continues the massage, occasionally calling out the name of a particular motion so that Hakusai can note it down on his drawings. 'Tilling the Fields' is a particularly intimate one, given that those muscles weren't strained from holding one position for too long.

Umeko is flexible, and this is very apparent as the massage continues. Her body twists and writhes, almost like a naga, as the kirin works. "You, my Lord, as misbehaving," she actually coos at him.

"I have not yet begun to misbehave," Kazuhiko claims, just before scooping up Umeko in his arms and carrying her to lounger, causing the artist to hastily move his easel and supplies and work the shutters to direct the light better.

"Not many would dare to pick me up as you just have," Umeko notes to the Lord and even places her palm on his cheek. "I am dangerous," she claims, eyes half-lidded.

"That is what makes you so attractive," the Kirin claims, and lays Umeko down on the cushion.. before he starts to rearrange her a bit. "This is called, The Swan in Repose," he explains, taking up a position of his own.

"The swan?" Umeko teases, "But I do not lay eggs." She actually does allow herself to be posed about; it is harmless enough after all and the Lord has been kind. He has a rather exotic charm at that.

"But you will spread your wings," Kazuhiko promises.. and then begins making love to the Kiriga in the odd position, which constrains certain movements while enhancing others. Hakusai's brush goes to work.

Umeko gasps! "Lord Kazuhiko," she cries out in shock; even if her body was ... ready for such. However, she doesn't actually try to stop the older man; instead her body responds with its own movements, restricted as they may be.

Kazuhiko knows how to pace himself.. and also keeps a close watch on Umeko's responses. Just when the Kiriga might be about to peak.. he changes to a different pose, effectively resetting and building back up again. The Dragon's Flame, Balance of Forces, Harmony of the Serpent - each one has a fanciful name and a surprisingly different effect.

"You are a very frustrating man," Umeko hisses in the kirin's ear when she is in one of the few positions that actually puts her head close to his. "An lucky that I am ... permitting this," she adds.

"Do you wish to take the lead?" Kazuhiko purrs. "Or am I keeping you curious?" Since there's a lot of bouncing for this one, it makes for a stuttering effect when it comes to talking.

"On Jadai the women are to allow the men to lead in all things. I am allowing this; it is ... curiously enjoyable right now," Umeko claims in a hissing stutter. "I will do whatever you command of me."

And so the Kirin leads.. on and on. It's hard to keep track of the changes and odd positions, some of which simply would not be possible with a Kiriga's flexibility (although Kazuhiko manages to come close, but it must be hard on his back). Finally, Hakusai announces, "I am out of canvas. And parchment. And gold ink."

"And does that mean we are done?" Umeko asks from the disturbing, back-twisting, pose that she is now in.

"Hmmm, it means.. we can relax," Kazuhiko claims, and pulls Umeko up to face him while straddling his lap. "And now is where I hand you my leash. It is up to you if I will find my release or not."

"I could show you some things my friend has taught me," Umeko suggests, smiling a bit deviously.

"The.. bunny?" Kazuhiko asks, one long eyebrow raised. "Or perhaps you have other friends?"

"Just some things he explained that he liked. It is amusing how he twitched when he asked," Umeko explains. She rises up and off the Kirin. "You can call this the forked tongue torment," she explains as she bows before the kirin. A slightly forked tongue, with a double stud in it ... can be quite surprising when used in flexible ways on certain things. It's also probably all the sharp teeth that excites Xander; he has the monster fetish after all.

The Kirin.. well, squirms. "Ahh.. I see what you meant about those studs now.." he gasps, trying very hard not to move (well, Umeko does have sharp teeth after all).

It's now Umeko's turn to focus on his reactions, making sure that he now reaches the edge of the peak, only to be denied it, over and over. She even uses her teeth sometimes! But only to lightly scratch, never puncture.

The Kirin is clearly gritting his teeth now, and digging his claws into the side of the couch. Umeko can feel the body-heat rolling off of him now as well, and his scales seem to be quivering. "Ah, I do hope I have not offended you in any way, Lady Tsuguri.." he hisses through clenched teeth.

A moment later Umeko is looking in his eyes. "Not at all, my Lord," she tells him, "In fact, you have inspired me to take a risk." Her body lowers and the kirin find himself back inside the young kiriga. "I am going to risk that we may be ... compatible," she tells him in a husky voice, right before she kisses him. Her body rolls and her tail entwines about him. It's apparent she isn't going to back off when he closes on his peak this time.

With the immediate danger of tearing against fangs gone, Kazuhiko responds.. vigorously! Enough so that he has to hold on to Umeko's legs to avoid launching her! "It may be a day for miracles, indeed!" he gasps.

Umeko chuffles and hisses; rather an odd sound. It's the time they both finally share some relief from the tensions of the day. "You are a horrible, corrupting, influence," she tells him when her breathing returns to some semblance of normalcy.

Taking in deep, gulping breaths, Lord Kazuhiko says, "From such a strong woman, I take that as a compliment. And perhaps a request for more corruption?"

"Well, simply spending more quality time together," the Kirin notes. "In the bath, and in my bed.. and perhaps some nice spots in the garden as well, if the weather is amenable.."

"That ... could be arranged," Umeko agrees. "And it seems that you too share the same interests as my lapi friend. You squirmed a lot."

"It was new," Kazuhiko explains. "That is rare and precious. It is usually I who introduces such novelty. Clearly I must journey beyond our shores and experience the world as you have."

"Then perhaps you should experience it completely. Next time I don't have to stop when you get excited," Umeko offers, "But that is for later. I accept the request to be your lady for the day, Lord Kazuhiko."

The big male rumbles happily, then gets a look of concern. "I suppose we should rescue your companion at some point as well. Does he heal quickly?" he asks.

"He is quite durable and enjoys being scared," Umeko assures the older man. "What is your daughter doing with him?"

"Pages ten through eighty I suspect," the Lord notes. "Those seemed to be the ones that got her interest.."

"If you wish to see him twitch, I should do some of those pages with your daughter and have him watch," Umeko remarks a bit evilly.

"That.. hmm," Kazuhiko says, and then looks thoughtful. "I will have to research such further. It had not occurred to me to use these as a form of.. torture.."

"Nor I, but when I kissed another kiriga it seemed to excite him," Umeko notes and shrugs a bit. "Now, shall we withdraw for a bit more ... corruption?"

"Of course, anything my lady desires," Kazuhiko says magnanimously. "As long as it includes a relaxing bath."

"I shall even bathe you," Umeko offers as she rises, then extends her hand to him. "It is relaxing to ... give you control, I must admit."

Kazuhuki sits up with a slight groan. It looks like he'll be the one with sore muscles come morning. "I am most grateful, Umeko," he says. "I may have to bathe you with my tongue, however, as it is the least sprained so far."

"Do not worry, my Lord, we will sprain that too," Umeko teases, pats his hand, then off they go into the exotic home of an eve more exotic Lord.

Ruined Tower
There are plenty of old ruins at the edge of Babel, some of them ancient. This particular one sits on the slopes of Mount Blakat, and looks like it's been used as a training area for the Slakash - as well as a target for the Temple's catapults and ballistas, given the number of holes in the walls that face the mountain's shrine-fortress.

This time, Scourge arrived first. From the parapets of the tower it was able to see Soldano approach, with Temis the Fnerf carrying the infected srinala on his back. Once they reached the base of the tower, the captain took the srinala and sent the worried looking navigator back the way they came. After the Fnerf is out of sight, the Eeee carries the srinala into the tower.

"Aww, and here I wanted to pounce that fnerf. Rowr," Scourge chuckles to itself as it watches him disappear back towards the city. Why it would want to pounce the fnerf is anyone's guess, since it doesn't eat normally, nor have a gender to speak of; but then Scourge is strange like that. It waits a few more minutes, then drops down to follow Soldanco into the ruins.

The floor of the main level is mostly gone, along with the ceiling above it, leaving a nice mount of debris rising up from the basement. Soldano sets the srinala at the top of the pile, muttering, "Sorry.. I don't know how you ended up like this, but.. sorry."

"The person she was has been gone a long time," Scourge remarks from its vantage point, "But ... I understand why you said that. I do too, every time."

"Almost done with this.. nightmare," Soldano replies, looking around to spot Scourge. "I'm tempted to stay and watch this time. But the last one.. it sounded pretty bad from the outside."

"You don't want to watch. Trust me," Scourge admits from where it now semi-lounges and watches Soldano. "I do not really wish to be here and deal with it either, but it is my duty to deal with it."

"I don't even know how you can deal with it," the Eeee notes, and flaps across the gap in the floor to the doorway. "What do you do? How do you kill these things?"

"Do you really want to know?" Scourge asks. "No jokes this time, no witty comments. If you ask me again, I will answer you truthfully and without covering it in flowery words."

"Yeah, I want to know," Soldano says. "I'm bringing these things to their death.. so I should know."

"Then I am sorry that you will lose what is left of your innocence," Scourge says. It sounds almost ... sad? "When what is within them activates, it rips the host body apart; sometimes remaking it into a mass of dead flesh and ooze. At its core is a dead child; a stillborn fetus. That is its anchor outside of the forbidden zone. To stop it, I must destroy that stillborn child; that mockery of all things living and innocent. I do it by focusing on what it is, not what it could have been. It is not a child; it is just a thing made to look like one. It makes the task ... easier, until later when I am in silence and left to just my thoughts."

"Uhhh," Soldano says, holding a hand to the side of his head and closing his eyes. "I know Babel has never been a safe place for children but.. this is beyond the usual horror. I should have tried to tackle the General into that pit of madness when I had the chance. I'll.. wait outside.." He looks a bit ill, and staggers out. Once more, not eating beforehand spares Soldano's stomach.

"You would not have survived had you attacked her, and she would have continued forward on this path anyway. You cannot blame yourself for this, or for what will soon be," Scourge notes as it uses its tail to block Soldano's path. "Or for the horrors of what others do. If you dwell on such, you will find yourself very lonely. The Barsunala does that enough; do not become like him."

"I don't know if I'll survive anyway," Soldano says. "I've got one of those things inside me, and I don't know what the Yodhgorphat is planning to try. The thing that really worries me now after hearing how these things work is.. would it even matter if I were dead? Would that stop the monster?"

"You will survive. If all else fails, we may be able to hold it back with the Light," Scourge says. "But if you died? No, it would not stop it. You wanted honest truth, and I will give it."

"Well, I guess I just have to live then," Soldano says, grinning a bit. "That's a pretty good reason I suppose - gotta be alive to beat this thing."

"And besides, a sphynx would go into the Well herself and drag you back if you died, then kill you herself," Scourge adds, through its grin isn't as comforting. "And the Barsunala would help her, in both things."

"So... your plan is to scare me to life?" Soldano asks, and almost laughs. "Well, at least now I'll be in a better mood when I meet with the Yodhgorphat later. Think I should be worrying about getting anything contagious now that I plan on surviving?"

"You should always worry when meeting with a Yodhgorphat; through I believe the Barsunala may be visiting you first," Scourge notes.

"Oh.. heh.. I hope he's not that Yodh's boyfriend or anything.." Soldano says, a bit nervously. "Can I leave now?" he asks, carefully patting Scourge's flail-tail.

"No, the Barsunala's girlfriend is far from here," Scourge notes, then wraps its tail around Soldano for a moment. "And what if I want to play with you later?"

"I.. what sort of playing exactly?" the flustered Eeee asks. He looks nervously at that tail..

"I can appreciate someone even if I cannot enjoy them," Scourge says ... rather suggestively.

"So.. you want me to.. stroke your hair.. uh.. tendrils?" Soldano asks, suddenly curious.

"I figured I would stroke you," Scourge remarks, then its tail splits apart. And boy does it grin in a predatory way.

"Well.. whatever you need to relax after.. dealing with.. the thing," Soldano agrees, after swallowing nervously.

Scourge sighs and smirks. "And here I was trying to make you more terrified of being molested by a demon, so that a Yodhgorphat would seem tame," the creature notes and releases Soldano from its tail. "But, you do not wish to play my game. You are no fun."

"What?" the man asked, confused. "You were trying to scare me? But.. you're on my side, not a demon. You don't look anything like a demon.."

"You don't have any spiky bits, or clothes made from the skins of Eeees, or teeth or.. icky bits," Soldano points out. "You have pretty glowing patterns on your skin, and the skin isn't even horny or particularly scaly. I've met big drunk Nagas that looked more terrifying... uh, not that you aren't impressive and all, and have some.. interesting features," the Eeee babbles. "But you just don't come across as.. you know.. evil."

"Naga can be quite interesting in a bed, especially the terrifying ones, from what I have been told," Scourge notes, then swats Soldano on the backside with its tail. "But probably no stranger than a Yodhgorphat. Now go, I will deal with the General's present."

"He's a jumpy one," notes an armored, red-furred Eeee woman sitting on the far rim of the collapsed floor, swinging her legs back and forth. "I like the new look; it's cute. More monsters should be cute," Blakat notes.

"He has a nice butt," Scourge remarks to itself, feeling surprised by the fact it doesn't feel weird to say that. "Probably Gorphat leaving me with the urges, but no way to satisfy them." Its head then swings around to eye the new Eeee. "Cute, but completely genderless; thank your Sister for that. So if you wanted to ... play, I am unable."

"Oh, that depends on the game though!" Blakat laughs. "You look like you'd be fun to wrestle with all those tentacles!" She points to the srinala-bomb and asks, "What's this thing?"

"A 'gift' from the General. A monster waiting to be born. I am testing how it reacts to certain environments and if being in one of my Aunts shrines affects it. I did not figure you would mind; it causes chaos and disaster," Scourge notes as it circles around to come over to Blakat.

"Chaos and disaster you say?" Blakat asks, narrowing her eyes. "My domain! Diphath steps on too many toes! And.." Once Scourge gets closer, the goddess focuses on it. "Stick out your tongue," she demands.

Scourge actually does stick out its tongue. It also arches his brow-ridge at the crazy Goddess.

Blakat grabs the tongue. Her touch is cold too. She sniffs at it, pries apart the 'tongueticles' and even sucks on one of them. "Bleh, you eat madness! That's.. that's just wrong," she complains. "Gorphat should know madness isn't a disease, it's a blessing," the goddess points out.

The tongue splits the rest of the way and wraps around Blakat's arm and hand. "I would prefer to eat you in other ways," the strange dragon remarks rather slurred around its own tongue.

"Hmmm, can you?" Blakat asks with a growl.. and a sly grin. "Try it! I'm curious!"

Blakat soon finds herself pushes against the wall. The tongue releases her arm, then goes to removing certain lower bits of armor. "I could have made a fun demon pet for you, I bet," Scourge remarks, smirking.

"Oooo, rough! I like it!" the goddess cackles. "But I want to know if my madness is what you crave or if it's Diphath's madness only!"

"And Greve is a good demon," Blakat notes. "His mad chittering is very soothing."

Scourge is quite ... insistent; its full weight is holding the Goddess to the wall. As for Gorphat's madness, well, Scourge certainly has an unusual way to go for it given where a tine of his tongue disappears!. The rest wrap to hold Gorphat right where she is.

"Ahahahaha!" Gorphat cackles, and grabs two of Scourge's sussing tendrils.. to squeeze. Of course, Blakat isn't the right type of crazy, in terms of taste. No dark, bruised purple - more of a strawberry red with lightning bolts. Healthy insanity.

Even if it isn't the right type, Scourge might be having fun at least. With the way he thrashes Blakat around here and there, and his invasive exploration is actually visible through Blakat's abdomen! It probably doesn't have to be this rough, but, well, it knows She will like it. So, he just enjoys the taste, even if he can't drink it, and focuses more on making Her cry and squirm!

Of course, the srinala decides to pop right in the middle of things. It bursts open in a flowering spray of guts and eye-and-mouth festooned tentacles. The appendages wave around, slap the ground and grab at debris.. but don't seem to have any real plan of action beyond flailing around in an attempt to touch something they can control.

Annoyed its fun was just interrupted, it has to release Blakat and go after the creature in the pit, so to speak! So, it leaps into the mass of flailing flesh to seek out its core!

The tentacles immediately try to grab on and control Scourge, and these have teeth. It's nearly impossible to find the fetal core, since it's really more of an inflated ball of a body with tentacles growing like hair from it.

"They just get nastier," Scourge thinks. Tail splits now too as it tries to rip this ball of mutated flesh apart, piece by piece! And worst comes to worst, its tail will go through the birth canal and rip it out.

The corpse of the srinala helps, since it narrows down the location of the core. And while the tentacles are strong, the core is not. Pulling out the tentacles is a bit like plucking petals from a flower, if a flower gibbered 'Tekitekitekiteki' while regurgitating black bile. Eventually, the thing is reduced to bits of flesh and skin. Some time after that, the tentacles stop moving and begin to burn.. although it looks like smoke is coalescing out of the air and flowing into the alien flesh while it happens.

"That cannot be good," Scourge thinks of the smoke flowing back in. Perhaps it plans to rebuild? So, its jaw sets and it digs in with its paws, tongue ... and even its tail ... and the tail tries the way it didn't want to; it tries to rip the birth out by .... using the birth canal.

The umbilical bursts and tears, and the tentacles continue to unburn.. but still dissolve. It is a brain-twisty sight.

"Hah! Look at that!" Blakat croons, hopping around and twirling a dissolving tentacle over her head. "It's like the greatest party favor ever!"

Scourge tries to not think on what it sees. It goes by feel only, and its one goal, crush the core and stop the monster. "Oh shut up, Blakat,/" it thinks.

Even more odd, however, is that the bite marks on Scourge also fade away along with the tentacles.

The blood and guts, however, do not fade, and a lot of them are coating various parts of the shadowy dragon. But the alien purple presence is gone.

"I always end up covered in guts," Scourge grumbles at Blakat. "You probably enjoy it."

"That is Diphath's weapon?" Blakat continues to giggle. "It's not even real! It's anti-real! That's the only damage it can cause, making your brain go cross-eyed trying to accept it as real!"

"It will work on normal Eeee," Scourge points out, then kicks part of the corpse at Blakat.

"Well, normal Eeee probably expect the things they see and feel to be real," Blakat says. "Boring! What else do these party favors do? Are they always the same?"

"No, each are different. Some say ominous things in order to try and upset me," Scourge remarks dryly as it lumbers over to Blakat on all fours. "I imagine you are also amused that I have been forced to walk, well, like some animal."

"What's wrong with walking on all fours?" Blakat says, and then scuttles about on all four limbs for a bit. "Are there more of these funny monsters? Where do you get them from?"

"There are only two left. Do you want me to bring them to other shrines of yours?," Scourge notes, "And what is wrong is I have no hands. I have paws. Put a collar on me and I'm Gorphat's pet."

"You have a tail and a tongue that are better than hands," Blakat notes. And then she grins. "I would like you to bring one to my Temple. I want to scare Rizalka with it."

"She's the only one in the Temple," Blakat says, and pouts. "She wants to be high priestess, just for that! But she has to prove herself, and a monster that makes you go crazy in the bad way would either teach her her place or give her a chance to step up and distinguish herself."

"What if it breaks her or drives her insane in a bad way?" Scourge inquires, eying Blakat. "And how come you don't ask me to visit more often?"

"Well, you can suck the insanity out of her, can't you?" Blakat coos, draping herself against Scourge's neck and tickling its tendrils. "Wouldn't that be just so humiliating for her? And don't feel ignored - it's just that I don't have much existence to spare anymore. You can see me now, but Captain Cute Butt wouldn't be able to. The Yodhblakat are scattered and inconsequential.. at the moment."

"Maybe I could help with that," Scourge remarks to Blakat, then tilts its head in the tickling. "But as you wish, that does make it easy to pick the next place."

"Oh, you will help with my status," Blakat promises, grinning. "What are you going to do to the delivery man?"

"He's sick though," Blakat says. "I can smell the alien inside him. Will he pop like a party favor as well?"

"That. I intend to cure him. He will be fed upon by a fake Barsunala creation, in hope the infection will transfer. Then I can destroy that creation," Scourge explains. "His condition has made him desperate enough to seek physical pleasures in a Yodhgorphat; hideous, oozy, and musky. But, he can only do that for so long; he must be cured soon."

"There's only one Yodhgorphat in Babel," Blakat points out, and pokes Scourge in the side as well. "Ever going to tell him about that?"

"Of course not. Why would I?" Scourge asks and smirks. "And I can say it, I know I am nasty as Yodhgorphat. I ooze more than I would have thought possible."

"You are becoming Kindly, indeed," Blakat laughs. "Well.. I've used up my conjugal visit time, I think. Until you bring me a new party favor, anyway!"

"Oh, just.. you take a bit of pleasure in playing with the mortals now, don't you?" Blakat asks, waggling her eyebrows.

"A little, perhaps, but I pay for it in Your kind playing with me. I am very much Gorphat's ... toy now," Scourge admits.

"I doubt she sees you as her toy," Blakat claims. "We do work with a purpose, when we must."

"Oh, no doubt!" Blakat laughs. "No rule that says we can't enjoy our work, after all!"

"And I should return to her soon, in case she wishes my presence," Scourge says, "I will bring the next monster to your temple. Tell your Priestess to not harm the man."

"Ah, where's the fun in that?" Blakat asks, but sighs and waggles her head from side to side while rolling her eyes. "Just this once.."

"You don't want your only Yodh infected, do you?" Scourge points out, "And I can't become Your daughter too." It grins.

"My Yodh leave lives of danger and violence," Blakat says proudly. "You know that.. you've met Barba after all.."

"Yodhblakat do not become girlfriends," Blakat notes, crossing her arms over her armored brassiere. "They have man-toys."

"Roogi.. well, the slakash are not known for letting themselves be vulnerable enough for such relationships," Blakat notes. "And I forbade them from playing with Yodhinala. You just need to act more feminine to attract her attention.."

"It doesn't matter your gender, only that you be demure and soft.." Blakat advises, grinning madly.

"So, yes, dress and act like a girl," Scourge remarks, smirking. "You would like a savanite guise I have, he is like that, and embedded with lots of jewelry."

"Chains and locks that prevent him from getting aroused without pain. He can only find relief in those the keyholder unlocks him for," Scoruge explains.

"That could look fearsome.. perhaps I will make Rizalka do that.." Blakat muses.

"It is really quite trying to be in that body," Scourge adds then shrugs, "But you said you must go, and so must I. I can only remain away from the form of Nicora for so long."

"Yes yes, go play with your captain," Blakat says, making a shooing motion.. and then she pinches Scourge's tail before fading away.. leaving her grin floating in the air alone for a moment.

"Until another day, then," Scourge says as it lumbers off to find Soldano, tell him the next location, then tell him to go to the Yodhgorphat.

On the pilgrims road some ways from the tower, Captain Soldano sits on a rock and watches the Procession high overhead.

"It is done. The next site is to be the Temple of Blakat itself. Blakat wishes to see one of these things and be amused by it," Scourge tells the Eeee. "You will not be harmed there. You may also wish to visit the Yodhgorphat again soon; preparations are being made to try and extract the creature from you."

"Blakat.. talked to you?" Soldano asks, startled out of his reverie. "Should I be worried about that? And.. do I need to bring the Yodhgorphat anything?" he asks next. "Candied bugs or.. bandages?"

"I talk to all the Sisters," Scourge notes, "As for bringing the Yodhgorphat something, no, it is not necessary. Or is it you actually find her attractive?"

"I want to stay in her good graces," Soldano admits, but looks away. "She's all alone in the Temple there.. maybe she'd like something special.."

"She's hideous, cursed, and reeks," Scourge remarks, "Even you have to admit that."

"Well.. yes, but sometimes you crave a little.. strange.." Soldano notes. "I've done.. well, when I was younger I often.. ah.. She's not that bad."

"You do not mind her oozing and her constant musky smell?" Scourge asks, possibly surprised.

"Well, if you wish to bring her something; bring her something a woman would appreciate," Scourge offers.

"There comes a point where you value.. skill.. over superficial things," the Eeee notes. "Hmmm, something she'd appreciate.." Soldano muses. "Can't be makeup or perfume.. or clothes.. Ah, of course.."

"I will go see her forthwith, I just need to make a brief stop along the way," Soldano says, grinning.

Scourge snorts. "Until the next monster, then," the shadowy creature says before it spreads its own wings and launches ot the air.

Patient Room, Temple of Gorphat
More of a cell than a room, this stone chamber features drains in the floor and in the stone examination table-slash-altar in the center. There are plenty of the green glow-light bottles to illuminate the place, with a cluster of them hanging right over the table.

"Yodhgorphat?" Soldano calls as he navigates his way to the examination room, something held behind his back. "Are you decent?"

"I am never decent, but I am dressed," Yodhgorphat Scourge calls back from the exam room. "Since you have returned you must not have suffered any ill effects from being intimate with me."

"Well.. I missed you, does that count?" Soldano asks, putting on his most charming smile. "And I brought you a gift."

"You missed ... me?" Yodhgorphat Scourge actually asks as she goes over to the man. Up close, the bald Eeee smells as musky and foul as ever; and her bandages bear stains, both old and new. "You are not lying to me for favors, are you?" she asks him, eyes narrow.

"I am not so foolish as to try and manipulate a Yodhgorphat," the man promises, then reveals what he had behind his back: a bottle. At first it looks like green glass, but it's actually the liquid inside that's green and the glass is clear. "I brought you something special," he says. "It's called absinthe. It's a very popular liqueur among the nobility."

The Yodhgorphat's bare brow arches. "So you seek to get me drunk to have your way with me, then?" she asks him next. Her tone is stern, but there are hints it may not be that serious. "With green alcohol."

"I was hoping we could have our way with each other first, then enjoy the drink," Soldano admits. "It is very relaxing, and can bring on pleasant visions."

Without warning, the Yodhgorphat puts her hand behind his head, then kisses him. She thankfully doesn't have particularly bad breath, but up close her scent is rather noticeable. "I am a bit more .... oozy than normal, will that bother you?" she asks of him once the kiss breaks. It's likely knowing he was coming made her a little more excited than her normal level, which is already rather high.

"I'll just have to try harder to overcome the extra lubrication," Soldano says, and sets the bottle down on the examination table before starting to unwrap the furless female.

She's bare as usual, and her lower bandages are already sickly and slimy when they come free. "If you keep visiting me like this I may have to consider you my official lover," the Yodhgorphat warns as he does her bandages. Her own fingers are playfully tracing his ears. "You may have to be branded."

"Marked as a lover of Gorphat, so that all know you belong to us," Yodhgorphat Scourge explains as she leans back and stretches on the table. "My Mother regularly marks me to show her glory," she adds. She might be trying to look seductive; but an Eeee as ugly as her can only do so much in that respect.

"And I love you for every blessing and mark you give me, Mother," Yodhgorphat Scourge thinks, just to make sure it doesn't sound like she dislikes her ... disfigurement.

"So.. like a tattoo?" Soldano asks, as he lifts Scourge up onto the edge of the table. "It won't.. cause problems with.. ah.. others will it?"

"I do not know. I will have to meditate on it," Yodhgorphat Scourge coos and traces his chin with her fingertips, "Show me how brave you are, lover." Her body already looks, well, ready. It perpetually is, after all.

The captain lays the woman back on the cold stone table, and begins manipulating her various breasts and teats as if.. well, as if she were a complicated musical instrument. Instead of blowing into her though, he inserts his own flute..

Yodhgorphat Scourge's head arches back as she coos and cries out; her wanting body already telling her how wonderful this is! "Mother, this blessing is ... both a trial and so, so, wonderful. The need, the tension, the ooze, and the scent, a reminder always that I am Yours in body and soul," she thinks in piety to her Goddess as her own hands are exploring the Captain and encouraging him.

Whatever Soldano is thinking, or whomever he's praying to, is kept within his own head, with only baser sounds emerging from him instead of words. The extra ooziness does make him last longer though. Scourge finds her knees pressed against her shoulders, as the man rearranges things to provide a bit more cushioning, since he really does have to try harder.

"You make me want to keep you. Why are you ... so kind to me?" Yodhgorphat Scourge finally asks in the heat of the moment, and possibly feeling vulnerable? Hard to say. She tries to reciprocate in this act of passion, but the position only allows so much, and, well, her blessing only allows her so much thought when her hormones are flowing freely.

"I have done many things that I am ashamed of," Soldano pants. "And I have lived a selfish life. Now I know that I need to give back, that I want to give back.."

"You are a very smooth talker," Yodhgorphat Scourge chides, but her gasps and moans, well, show she doesn't mind at all.

"And you are very smooth.. all over and inside as well," Soldano claims, before he loses the ability to speak coherently for a bit.

It's not like the Yodhgorphat can really talk anymore either. The exam room becomes, well, a pit of hedonistic pleasure and cries. Something likely rarely heard in this place. And when the wave of pleasures come, boy does she cry out. She finds that even the pain that follows, she likes. Gorphat is training her well.

Once exhaustion sets in, the air in the chamber is a bit ranker than usual, between the sweat and other bodily scents. Soldano opens the bottle, and offers the Yodhgorphat the first sip.

And the Yodhgorphat raises it to her lips, then tilts the glass back, drinking down the green alcohol. "/I must resist the urge to chain him up downstairs,/" she thinks as she eyes the man ... in an all to predatory way. "/Well, except for the part where it will be how we cure him ... with the false surrogate. If he drinks enough ... getting him down there will be easy."

From the relative safety of the hedge maze, Griffin begins setting up the camp stove to brew some tea. "Time to unpack the biscuits, Integra," he tells his niece.

"Are you sure this is a wise move? We lack an army. How do we stand a chance at storming the house?" March inquires, ears twitching in agitation. "It is as crazy as trying to just tunnel up underneath the house."

"Why aren't we trying to just tunnel up underneath the house then?" Griffin asks.

Tvinkle Tvinkle Little Bat acts the part of the "tour guide" for most of the journey, chattering on about little bits of trivia -- most of it nonsensical, some of it in rhyme, and some of it vaguely sounding like something from a nursery tale -- but now and then there are potentially useful warnings about dire threats along the way: whether it's a hornfoozle or a wolgle or a glumph, it's useful to know if there's something inclined to EAT you, and hence to avoid it. "Oh!" the bat squeaks. "That would be an excellent idea. If only there were tunnels under the house. But it's a very particular place. There are some interesting ways in and out, but those would pertain to its most remarkable Looking-Glass."

Achilles peers concernedly at the Red Army. "I was hoping that the guards would be reduced if the White King had been beheaded in the meantime... Either he's still in there alive, or they're guarding something else. Maybe another access to the Queen's Tea Party?" He glances over at the tea party preparations. "Do we need another shot of Obscuri-tea?"

"They could be guarding it because they know we've been here before as well, hjckrrh," Griffin offers. "Can't hare's dig? But.. what other less obvious entrances are there, Tvinkle?"

There's still some more tea, but it's getting a bit WEAK. While it might do to keep at bay the prying eyes of the stars and moon and whatever other parts of the environment "Queen Alice" might be using to keep tabs on unwanted interlopers, it calls into question whether it'll stay strong enough to allow striding right past dedicated guards without some additional attempt at camouflage.

The card suggests, "We could call in a favor or two..." He fingers the silver flower on shell pin on his lapel that marks them as Friends of the Flowers.

"I don't particularly like the idea of getting our friends clipped," March remarks, arms crossed. "We would be better to fake a delivery of some refreshments for such noble guards. Laced with some sort of sleeping agent, of course. Then just wait until the guards pass out."

Achilles looks horrified. "Oh, we wouldn't expect them to throw themselves onto the cards' blades, of course. But a disturbance, luring away as many of the guards as they could into the maze... That might be efficacious."

Tvinkle ponders Griffin's query, and after a delay offers, "Te Looking-Glass is a portal. Ve could use it to visit te Real Vorld, it is said! Tat is, until it vas cracked. Vere it vould take you now, I do not know. But if you could go tere ... it vould mean you could get into te house?"

Griffin begins checking through his available ingredients. "There are a lot of them.. maybe the Flower's could help if they can provide something to neutralize the guards? Something stronger than chamomile."

"I suspect the mirror may be a better escape route than an entrance," March suggests. "Perhaps we should all be in a crate and be delivered as supplies. It sure would be quite the s'supply' when it was opened. Trojan box..."

"A rather large crate of.. mirror polish?" Griffin offers. "We'd need a crate. And a means of overcoming those that opened it. Preferably a crate that is much roomier inside than out."

Achilles eyes the house thoughtfully. "Ideally, we need something that keeps the guards out of our way or out cold so that we can search the house at our leisure. What if we ask the flowers to throw a little 'tea party' for the guards, to be hosted on their front lawn, of course? That should reduce their numbers."

Tvinkle ponders this. "It sounds like you are vishing for a toolbox. Or a toybox. Or a tinderbox. Tere are special boxes for special tings tat hold only tose tings, but hold tem well. But I have not such a box." He sighs melodramatically.

"A good a plan as any, that," March agrees. "But the flowers may still want something in trade, friends even though they are. Can't hurt to ask."

Integra ponders the bat's words. "We used to have a toybox. But it wouldn't help us, because we aren't toys."

"We also still have the Fog Horn," Griffin notes, patting the device on his bandolier. "That plus the remains of the Obscura-Tea may get us to the porch."

"Of course it should be a party with particularly soothing music," suggests Achilles to March. "And perhaps chamomile tea."

The card nods to Griffin. "The tea party to lure away most of the guards, the fog to cover our own approach?"

"It will depend on the discipline of the soldiers," Griffin notes. "But the Roses are hard to resist."

"We could put Griffin in a dress and he could perform a feather dance for the guards," March suggests.

"I could prepare some flash-powder bombs to use in the fog," Griffin offers instead. "The fog should spread the flash further and sow confusion."

Achilles grins. "While amusing, perhaps we'd better bring him along with us. It would keep him out of trouble." More soberly, he adds, "Say, Griffin, should we bring Integra with us or ask the flowers to keep her safe? If we left her with them, she'd be likely safe as houses, but it'd be hard to bring her along then if we found a sudden need to exit a different way."

"I'd rather keep her close, if we can get to the house safely," Griffin notes. "I do have something that could.. well.. turn her into an angel for a bit, which could be enough to give the impression that she's Queen Alice.. maybe."

A large, lumbering shadow blots out some of the light filtering out from the large living room -- the room where traditionally the Looking-Glass that brought Alice to this world should be in. By the sheer girth of this individual, he must be of a Tweedle-like make -- and a large one at that.

"That might be something of a waste of that Angel's Trumpet of yours," Achilles observes. "We could ask Mr. Hat Box if he'd be willing to provide... Hullo, what's this?" His voice hushes at the last declaration.

"Who invited Aunt Bertha?" March hisses as he pulls his ears down. He tugs on his ears a bit, then suggests, "Why don't we just get onto the roof and cut a hole? Avoid the first floor entirely..."

"A pity Griffin's not a stronger flyer, or he could do the cutting and ferry us up one at a time," murmurs Achilles quietly. He tracks the Tweedle for a little while, trying to assess if the gentleman is a visitor or a guard.

Tvinkle blinks at March. "Vat? And avoid having to fight your vay through two floors of vell-armed guards all the vay up to te top? Vhy, tat is positively un-sporting!" He ponders this. "You are brilliant, sir!"

"Getting onto the roof may be considerably easier than getting off of it again," Griffin notes. "They do know to look up, after all, unless the fog is very thick.." He gets an odd look in his birdy eyes.

"What do you think would happen if I blew the fog horn down the chimney?" he suddenly asks the others.

Achilles lays a pasteboard hand on Griffin's wingtip. "Don't rush up there too quickly," he reminds the bird. "You know what happened the last time you tried flying past that house."

"I still think going up, finding the king, then perhaps rushing down and jumping into the mirror is be best route," March says. "We do not an army make."

"True, but we are trained soldiers. We know a thing or two about war they don't," says Achilles grimly. He checks his pockets. "One here as well."

The card watches the Tweedle a bit longer. "He looks like a guard," he says at last. "And he's probably got a friend in the house. I think with this many guards, we'll be best off with having the Flowers lure away as many as they can, then use the Fog Horn to cover our approach. If you fill the house with fog, Griffin, they'll have trouble finding their way in there... But so will we."

"These are chess pieces. They are war," March counters as he also checks his pockets. "One here as well," he remarks. "And if we go by the roof, it will be easier than up through fog..."

There is a fluttering of wings and a ratcheting noise that sounds like some sort of strange mechanism -- a small one -- up in the air somewhere.

"If we fog first, they may start pulling back towards the house," Griffin suggests. "But if some are lured away, we can fog, then use the wall nuts to keep them from quickly regrouping, or to isolate one side of the house. If we can reduce the number we have to deal with to those on the porch and whoever is in the house, our odds will be better I think."

The card looks up and around curiously. He holds a finger to his lips, shushing the others, so they can hear the device better.

As it approaches the house, it would seem that the little device is some sort of clockwork mechanism, but a bizarre one. It looks like a great stuffed dodo that has been re-stuffed with gears and springs and mechanical things, and its wings supplemented with much larger frames more suitable for flight. It's a bit less-than-entirely-aerodynamic, to say the least, and seems to be straining to make it the rest of the way toward the house -- though by now it could just drop out of the sky and it would still fall into the yard and surely attract some attention.

"Could it be one of the White Knight's creations?" Griffin whispers. "I wish we could see the back of the house. Maybe we should start making our way around to the hedge, to talk to the Flowers.."

Achilles looks puzzledly over at Griffin and Harrison, then nods at Griffin's suggestion. "Let's."

There are a few shouts. It does seem that the Clockwork Dodo has at least momentarily caught the attention of the guards out in the yard, and several of the Pawns scurry over, trying to anticipate its landing (or crashing) location to intercept.

"Around from the west, towards the forest.. I want to see what that bird is about," Griffin notes, and packs up the camp stove quickly so they can move out.

The card sneaks westward, trying to keep his edge toward the pawns at the gate so they'll have trouble seeing him.

Tvinkle Tvinkle Little Bat (Esquire) adjusts his spectacles, then flutters after the others. He has the presence of mind NOT to squeak something useless like "Wait for me!" etc., lest it give his position away; he seems very mindful of the risks involved here.

As they progress to the west, Achilles makes a hand-sign to the others, alerting March and Griffin to the Knight in the corner of the garden.

The Red Pawn guards posted at the front gate to the property, flanking the main drive, are blissfully ignorant of the shadows dashing and flapping and rocking across the roadway, as they gaze up at the incoming clockwork dodo.

The clockwork dodo sputters and drops a few feet, then flies around in a corkscrew pattern, leading the Pawns in a merry chase about the yard. Alas, right now it seems to be occupying them on the west side, so it hasn't yet taken them cleanly away from the route the hidden travelers are trying in the dark.

The card frowns. "If only we had some field glasses," he mutters. "We might be able to make out what insignia that thing is carrying. Though if the White Knight steps out, we'll know for sure."

The clockwork dodo swoops low and smashes into a hedge ... but, surprise of surprises, it pops out the other side, still mostly intact, though having lost a few feathers and exposing a bit more clockwork inside. It's hard to tell scale for sure at this distance, but it doesn't look nearly so large enough as to hold a passenger.

Achilles nods to Griffin. Now that the gate guards are relatively far away, he switches to keeping his edge toward the still-watchful Red Knight.

A few Pawn archers scramble into position on the rooftop -- in the process, of course, giving away their presence to the interlopers just outside the yard -- but they refrain from turning the clockwork creature into a pincushion. For now, anyway.

Achilles agrees, "It's a good thing you didn't try the rooftop approach." He eyes the Red Knight thoughtfully. "Knock him out and drag him away or sneak past him?"

It looks as if there might be an opening that Achilles is considering taking. One Red Knight still remains in the western yard without being distracted by the show of the clockwork dodo -- obviously not quite as excitable as the Pawns -- but there's no indication that he's possessed of "night-vision" or other such powers. He patrols the western picket -- that is, a long line of white pickets that is grossly out of scale compared to a normal fence, with each slab thick enough so as to be able to convincingly withstand rifle fire.

While the Card seems quite able to keep edge-wise to the guard, greatly minimizing his chances of being spotted, he nonetheless seems hesitant -- certainly not overly confident about the gambit. How exactly does one tell just where a large lacquered living wooden chesspiece is looking, or how keen his senses might be, after all?

"I highly suspect any fighting will be heard. We need to avoid confrontation," March whispers to the others.

"That means bayonets and swords if it comes to it," Griffin notes. "Find us a clear path, Ace."

The clockwork dodo comes to a crash-landing on the front porch of the oversized Victorian summer house, as several Pawns gather around it.

Achilles moves silently, slipping around the corner and then moving from behind one board to the next of the oversized picket fence that marks the side of the yard. He motions for the others to move forward when the Red Knight's attention is apparently off to the side.

Outside the fence slats, the white house is largely obscured -- as, after all, the pickets are grossly oversized, and tower over the interlopers. Here and there is a knothole through which one might steal a peek, and if one carefully lines up, one can peer through the interlaced slats to get just a glimpse of the movement of the guards -- or perhaps just tricks of shadow in the dim starlight.

Fringe trees from the wilderness of the Hills of Gloom encroach along the west side, their boughs creeping over, but evidently hacked back by the guards here and there lest they penetrate the fence-line. On the west side of the fence, there's a worn line, probably made by whomever might be charged with patrolling the exterior perimeter on rare occasion on weed-trimming duty -- but by the overgrown nature of it, it doesn't look as if there's a regular patrol out here. It would seem that the Chessmen have not followed the lead of the Queen of Hearts by establishing a "killing field" outside the perimeter.

"Keep your ears open for the Dodo's commotion," Griffin notes to March. "Let us know if you hear anything breaking."

The card moves a little more quickly now that they're out of view of most of the guards. "The hedge should be just ahead," he whispers to the others. "Then Harrison can have a word with Lady Vielchenblau about how best to distract the Red Army and their... party crasher?"

With a clatter and a crash, it sounds as if the clockwork dodo has finally settled on its course and come to a landing on the front porch. Over the excited babble of several Pawns, the clockwork monster trumpets, "By Order of Her Royal Majesty, it is Time for Tea! Let the Last of the Heads of State be Brought to Her Immediately!" One can practically hear the arbitrary Capitalization of words in its artificial speech.

March stiffens. "That does not bode well for the King, does it?" he asks. "We don't have much time at all."

One of the Pawns claps giddily. "Oh, Tweedle Hack and Tweedle Slash will be SO happy to hear this. They've been sharpening up their axes all this time! Oh! Oh! Who SHALL tell them?"

"March, you're the fastest. Can you run ahead to the flowers and call them out?" hurriedly strategizes Achilles. "Griffin, use your fog horn now, they'll think it's just the fog rolling in. Memorize where the chimney is before you blow it, so you can fog the inside too. Tvinkle, Integra, follow me, we'll meet March and the flowers at the north side."

Another Pawn sounds doubtful. "Can you even do that? It's Check and Mate. You never actually TAKE a King. Won't something bad happen if you do?" But the rest of the voices at this distance are hard to make out, falling into a low murmur as the interlopers make their way hastily along the fence.

Griffin takes the fog horn, fills his lungs as much as he can, and blows it through a space between the fence boards.

March looks nervous. "I can try I suppose," he haltingly agrees. The hare crouches down, preparing to sprint now.

"We need as many of her soldiers as we can get, we have to save the White King or he's going to be a no-body!" hisses Achilles to Harrison as he starts his own run. Sadly, his legs are shorter relative to his body.

Aaaaa---HOOOOOO-GAHHHHHHH! The fog horn heralds the appearance of a thick mist that soon fills the area with ever-increasing thickness. Combined with the distinct lack of lighting (save for the occasional glimpse of moonlight and the blinking starlight) it's pretty hard to see now.

March lurches forward, fast as his rabbity legs will carry him! "If I die, I'm haunting all of you," he grumbles as he departs.

Achilles says to March before the rabbit passes him too far, "I feel bad about sending Griffin in there alone, you know how flighty he is... But he IS the only one who can fly, and the Dodo and the Tweedle executioners are in there. Every second counts!"

Just so he'll have some advantage, the gryphon gobbles down his Rabbiteye Blueberry Cluster before taking flight.

As March rushes along the fence, just as he's about to reach the corner of the pickets, and it's soon to be overwhelmed by the underbrush, he catches a glimpse of a patch of red. It moves. "Oh!" it gasps. Thank goodness, it's no Chessman -- it's a Rose. "Why, hello there," she whispers, as the fog rushes over her. "I'm Annie," she says. "You DO look very familiar, but it's hard to make you out."

Clearing the fence, Griffin flies due east towards the house, judging altitude as best he can.

March skids to a halt! "Ah, hello there fair maiden of the the hedge! Tis I, Haigha," the hare claims in a low voice, "On of the group that removed the horrible gardeners from your maze. It appears we find ourselves in yet another moment of choice. The dear White King is being held in yon House ... and they are about to behead him! We need to draw away as many of the guards as we can and mount a rescue. Do you think your Queen will aide us?"

A faint amber glow from the upper windows of the house gives the Griffin at least a rough idea of its location. There shouldn't be much danger of running into a weathervane or a spiky rooftop ridge until he's a bit closer.

Achilles motions for Tvinkle and Integra to follow him. "Stay close, we don't want to lose each other in the fog!"

"Oh my!" the Rose blushes. She executes a quick courtsey, and then says, "Oh, we must let the Grapevine know at once!" There is a stirring among the underbrush and a few blushing grapes appear. There is a quick whispering exchange that carries along until it seems the whole garden is alive with gossip.

The card reaches into one of his pockets and fetches out a small cluster of berries, which he consumes on the run to sharpen his vision against the fog.

The little bat flutters after Achilles, while Integra rocks rapidly on the rocking-nightmare. The two of them seem to be quite capable of keeping up with the Card, though Integra seems not quite as adept at keeping a low profile. Fortunately, on this side of the fence, it hardly matters.

"Can you have them clear a path for us?" calls Achilles to Harrison ahead of them.

A soft foxfire glow of Nightlilies illuminates a path through the slowly parting hedges in front of March, as Annie bows and gestures the way. "They can show you a route to the back of the fences," she says. "Though I suppose if you don't mind a burrow, you might always ask kindly, and perhaps some of those with deeper roots could let you under the fence. It comes of having it built so close to our garden, don't you know."

"My dear, you are all the most wonderful of ladies. We, and the King, are in your debt," March says with a bow. "And as for under, well, I am a hare. and it is unlikely that is a direction they would expect! A capitol idea."

March scoots along, following the illuminated path. He reaches a point in the fence where it seems there are no guards near and he draws to a stop. "Dear shining flowers of the light, rooted in wisdom and unsurpassed beauty. Would you be so kind as to open a passage beneath this cad of a fence, one that blocks us from reaching and rescuing the most noble White King?" he asks of the nearby flowers. He's a bit out of breath, so it lacks a bit of the ... charm it usually has.

The Plants all seem rather impressed with Harrison's very flowery speech. With great haste, some Tulip bulbs furrow down into their network of roots and start churning up the earth. In short order there is now a passage leading right underneath the large white picket fence, thoroughly undermining (in the traditional sense) its defensive value.

"Thank you, Lady, very kind, excuse me please, King to save!" yelps Achilles as he approaches the corner. He pants, stopping for a second. "Soldiers! We're going to need a lot of them! Have them meet me at the gate and we'll rush in from there. Tvinkle, keep Integra safe and follow us, don't let her get mixed up in the melee!"

Integra, Tvinkle, and now "Annie" keep up with Achilles (Annie having the roughest time of it, as Plants are not generally very FAST at all), hugging the outside of the fence. Shrubs and Flowers politely part ways to let them through, rather than making them navigate the maze.

As Griffin gets closer to the house, he can feel the obfuscating magic of the Obscuri-Tea draw weaker and weaker. Its lingering effects seem to be sparing the scene here from distant eyes, but it is surely only the fog and darkness that is hiding him from the guards at the moment.

"This fog is unnatural! It's unscheduled! It's surely unapproved!" come shouts from the Pawns. "The Bishop shall sort this out!"

So far, there's no sign that any of the Pawns -- not even the rooftop archers -- has spotted the incoming lion-bird. Now, if only it can stay that way....

Griffin keeps flying towards the roof, aiming for roughly the center of it.. and hoping that the archers are still around the edges (and wouldn't it be a shame if the slipped off the roof in the fog).

Fortunately, the Gryphon manages to alight upon the roof, narrowly avoiding the nasty-looking weathervane and the spiky "spear-line" rows along the peaks. He can make out the shadows of Pawns with bows along the perimeter, but from what he can make out, they are looking outward rather than in. So far, he is unseen. To the southeast, there is the conical rooftop of the "tower" in the corner. It has no windows facing this way, as it's not really a lookout or a true cupola, but the faint glow from the other windows at least gives him a rough idea of its location.

"By the power of the Spirit of Conflict, and the Rules of the Game," intones a voice from somewhere down below -- a bit north and east of the Gryphon's position, judging by the echoes, "I bid the Fog of War be lifted, so all the Pieces may be seen!"

Once again, the baleful gaze of the moon is visible in the sky again, and the ever-blinking stars. The Pawns and Knights and Rooks rush about the yard, poking at shadows. It would seem that they are on high alert now. Perhaps it was that loud "fog horn" effect -- and this being nowhere near the sea -- that alerted them that this was no simple shift in the weather. Or maybe they're just bored and anxious to find something to hit. It's hard to tell.

Achilles groans as the fog seems to be dissipating. That will make it much more difficult to sneak around the yard. "Harrison!" he calls ahead. "Maybe you can use that burrow for a decoy, draw the guards away from the front, then double back around while they're investigating the hole."

Horn in hand, Griffin tries to sneak down the rooftop towards the chimney to try and fog the interior while he can.

"Whazzat?" murmurs one of the guards down in the yard. He seems to be responding to a muffled shout from beyond the fence.

Scrape. Clatter. Oh. That wasn't good at all. The Pawns along the perimeter of the rooftop stir. "INTRUDER ON THE ROOFTOP!" comes the warning cry.

At least the Gryphon made it to the chimney. That at the very least affords him a little bit of cover, and perhaps some of the rooftop's angling can be used to his advantage ... but even that is only so much.

Cursing as he overhears the guard, the card draws his umbrella as he hurries forward. He mutters darkly to Harrison, "If they step into the maze, the home ground advantage will be ours. Literally."

"A lot of ifs. And a lot more sharp pointy things," March points out and rubs his face. "I'll sure them if I can."

"Don't try to fight them two-on-one," warns Achilles in a lowered tone of voice. "You're fast enough they'll see double images, but they still only have to hit you once."

From the Gryphon's new vantage point, he can see the shutters swinging open on one of the windows of the southeast tower. There's a jingle of bells, and a head pokes out a window, adorned in a festive jester's cap. It's ... a Rabbit? A white Rabbit, but assuredly not THE White Rabbit (seeing as he's quite dead and all, and probably wouldn't dream of dressing so) -- holding a jester's scepter with a little head and hat version of his own visage atop it. "Oho!" he chortles to himself, then slams the shutters shut again. Inside, it sounds as if he's making some sort of sing-song rhyme, but the noise is too muffled to make out above all the tumult of the archers preparing to turn poor Griffin into a pincushion.

Still, for just a moment, Gryphon's keen eyes and ears make out ... someone else in that room with him? Alas, the angle is bad. It's a wonder he noticed anything at all.

As Achilles catches up with Harrison, he can see -- dimly lit in the glow of the Nightlilies -- a wide opening in the ground, leading to a burrow that's tall and wide enough to stroll through without even having to take one's hat off. It would seem that the burrow leads right under the fence.

"A court jester.. could the king be in that tower?" Griffin thinks, just before bringing the horn to his beak and blowing it again to give himself some cover.

The card looks impressed at the size of the burrow. "Wonder how the echoes are in there," he murmurs to himself.

"AAAAA-HOOOOOO-GAH!" goes the fog horn! But ... what? No fog? Something is terribly wrong here!

Tvinkle clings onto the top of the burrow and swings down, looking into it from and upside-down position. "Oh! Quite homey," he says, nodding approvingly. It speaks well of the design of his spectacles that they manage to stay on his nose.

"That Bishop must be kept well polished to take on a blow-hard like me," Griffin complains, and eyes the chimney..

As one, the Red Pawns move into position and begin raining arrows down on the poor Griffon! Fortunately, the poor lighting, the slight cover of the chimney and the irregularity of the roof conspire to make him a harder target than they might have bargained for. Still, there's something about the way they move into position that hints that their next volley might be better aimed than the first.

"To arms!" goes out the call in the yard. Orders are shouted, and there's much shouting and hopping around.

A few more Pawns spill out of the back of the house. Some more come out of the coach house. Others in the yard move out further so they might get a better view of the roof. Those positioned around the main entrances to the yard, however, remain at their posts.

"Here goes nothing," March says as he disappears into the tunnel. After a quick walk, he pops out of the other end. "For King and Country!" he declares as he raises his revolver-cane and fires at the pawn directly to the south. He knows the gun will be loud. He counts on it ... to lure the red army to the tunnel!

Behind March, there's a slight rustling. It would seem that he's been joined by a lily -- a Tiger Lily, to be exact, complete with stripes and an oddly feline structure. Anticipating Harrison's strategy, it nestles down into the burrow into a good pouncing position, waggling its vine-like tail in anticipation.

Achilles whispers to the grapevine as the rabbit dives into the burrow, "Extra! Breaking news, you heard about it here first! The White King to be beheaded by cruel Tweedle executioners at Looking Glass House unless brave, loyal subjects can save him! A courageous griffin is pinned down on its roof while his friends charge forward to the rescue! Rise up flowers, and throw off the shackles of tyranny! Every petal, every leaf, every root lent to the cause will help!"

With a loud CRACK, the hapless Pawn explodes in a shower of splinters! That Chessman is out of the game, to be sure.

"Gryphon?" cries out one of the Pawns. "It's the Gryphon? Alert Queen Alice at once! We've found him!"

At once, cries go up from the Garden, as Flowers wake from their Beds. Angel's Trumpets cry out their taran-taras, and Dog Violets begin barking and baying, while Dandelions roar.

Alice have mercy on any Pawn foolish enough to step into the Garden at this point. Now it just remains to be seen whether the Garden really is going to march upon the house, or whether Veilchenblau and her cohorts are merely engaging in an elaborate BLUFF in the hopes of distracting the guards.

The newsie picks up his pace again, his thoughts on Harrison on the other side. He heard the shot cry out. "The shot that began the war that will free a king," he says with a grin. "If we're lucky."

As he hunkers down next to the chimney, Griffin spots something wedged between two of the bricks! He pries out the bottle, notes the Drink Me tag on it.. and thinks, "Why not, at this point?" Shrink, and be able to escape down the chimney.. or grow and.. probably just hop down off the roof..

The Rook and the Knight Cavalrymen guarding the rear trellis-gate to the Garden shuffle back a step or two away, thrown off by the threat of widespread revolt. Slow or not, a militant garden of animate Plants could be a real threat. Surely they were not expecting this sort of resistance, or else they wouldn't have allowed it to remain for so long close to their fortification!

At once, the Gryphon begins to get smaller ... and smaller ... and SMALLER! In short order, he's pocket-sized. Why, he would be perfectly at home in Integra's little dollhouse! Oh, let us hope no one steps on him!

"You must have hit him!" one of the Pawn archers declares. "All the air is leaking out of him! Look!" Nonetheless, they continue trying to puncture him, letting loose with another volley.

The baleful gaze of the moon and stars seems to be solely focused upon the shrinking Gryphon, and some unholy power guides the arrows to find their mark. While he should have made a very challenging target, now being smaller merely makes him all the more vulnerable to these still-normal-sized projectiles. One, two, three arrows find their mark. The poor Gryphon falls over, onto the shingles.

"Hjckrrh?" he manages to peep before the shock hits him. "If I survive this, I'll never eat squab again.." he promises the universe before keeling over.

Harrison hears the cheers go up from the rooftop archers, and he sees the shrinking form undeniably hit by a full volley of arrows. It ... doesn't look good at all.

Meanwhile, several Pawns and other Chessmen rush, converging upon Harrison's burrow. Not ALL of them have abandoned their posts, but he certainly has the attention of most of the force.

March's ears shoot straight up. "God save us all," the hare says in horror. He turns to the Lily beside him. "I fear the Gryphon may be ... dead, or at best, seriously injured," he says, voice tense. "If there is anything, or anyone, that can go him that the queen of the Roses can send, get her to send it now. If the garden can rise up against them and bring such an uproar as these lands have never seen, then bring it now." And that's when the hare rolls his thumb on the watch he carries. "Into the night with all of you," the narrow-eyed hare growls out. He takes aim at the next closes pawn ... and fires.

"God have mercy... Flyers! We need flyers!" yells Achilles to the grapevine. "The revolution begins NOW, send everyone you've got through the gate! I'm going after Harrison. Integra, stay behind us, be ready to run into the heart of the Maze. Lady Vielchenblau will protect you if..." He pauses. "Something happens to us."

Another Pawn shatters into splinters! And just then, a most dreadful uproar is heard from the Garden, and from along the side-walls, where creepers and vines have worked their way. It sounds as if the very land shall be torn apart, the sound is so awful. In fact ... many of the Plants actually frighten themselves and each other! (There's such a thing as doing a thing too well, perhaps.)

"Wait!" cries Integra, but she falls off the rocking-nightmare, to her knees, clapping her hands over her ears to keep out the terrible roar.

The card clambers into the tunnel and hurries after Harrison, sensing that steel in the rabbit's voice that says the March Hare retreats for no man.

On the other side of the burrow, the card takes up a defensive position, black Imperial brolly at the ready. "Get ready to duck if they start shooting arrows at us," Achilles hisses to Harrison. He eyes the two pawns that have managed to hold back their fear.

There is much screaming and rushing and crashing about. Red Knight Cavalrymen urge their wooden horses to leap over or simply crash through the hedgerows, as they gallop away. Pawn archers leap from the rooftop in their panic to get away from It, whatever It Is. There are now two Tweedle-sized holes through the front doors, as Tweedle-Hack and Tweedle-Slash scream like little girls as they bravely, bravely run away.

And then ... it's much quieter now. There are, perhaps surprisingly, still a few brave Chessmen holding their ground -- or, at least, not leaving in a blind panic -- but of the Flowers, only the Tiger Lily remains, prowling next to Harrison.

One remaining Red Pawn near Achilles and Harrison still brandishes his pole-arm. His face is unreadable, since has no face as such -- just a smooth, knob-like head. "None shall pass!" he insists. Perhaps he simply doesn't realize that the several Pawns who, just moments ago, were right behind him are beating a dust trail down the road now?

"Look, they're running scared of our ruckus!" yells Achilles to the flowers of the maze behind them. "Chin up, petals straight, leafs and roots forward, and remember, the best defense is a good offense, and we're as offensive as we can get!" He grins toothily at the pawn, giving his umbrella a little twirl, just so, as if suggesting the pawn is a little... lady-like. "You wanna try your luck, pal?"

"Yaa-hoo-hooie!" shrieks the hare jester as he crashes through the glass and busts through the shutters of the upper tower, bouncing on his scepter like a pogo-stick as he goes. A very pale individual, wearing a crown, peers out the window after him.

It seems to slowly dawn on the remaining Pawn that he isn't backed up by a full rank after all. Perhaps he just glanced over his shoulder. It's hard to tell. In any case, he's visibly shaken by the Card's taunt.

"Or you could make like a tree and... LEAF!" yells Achilles, lunging forward suddenly and opening his umbrella so it looks like a sudden missile of blackness coming the pawn's way.

"YAAAAAAAHHHH!" shrieks the Pawn, and he bolts away as if it were his first move in chess -- in the other direction, that is.

Grinning, Achilles retracts his umbrella and brings it up to a guard position. "I don't see archers up there... Maybe that's emboldened the king and his... jester?... to stage a jailbreak."

"To the bird! The bird is not for eating!" March tells the Tiger-Lily as he darts full-speed towards the house! If he's lucky, maybe he can vault off the lily, then climb the trellis to the rooftop!

"Harrison, make sure the roof is clear! I'll be behind you with Integra. Maybe if we can get her to the roof, we can stabilize the poor bird before he's pushing up lilies," says Achilles in a hushed tone to the rabbit.

The Tiger-Lily seems to catch on, and stretches out, elongating its flexible form, becoming almost like an acrobat's trampoline as it digs its roots into the slats of the wall and into the ground.

"Come on, Integra, we need to save your uncle!" says Achilles down the tunnel. "I'll boost you once we get to the wall, but we need to climb it before the chessmen come back."

"Oh no!" cries out Integra. Evidently she'd missed the part about her uncle being in peril, and she looks horrified at her neglect.

It's quite amazing both how fast the hare can move ... and how high he can leap (complete with a flip), and land on the roof! Now he just has to find the bird, save the bird, and give Integra the ... bird.

The card hurries across to the house, looking both ways to make sure the coast is clear. Once up against the wall, he eyes the tiger lily speculatively. "I could make it with that boost but... I'm not sure if Integra could." For various reasons, he's never tried acrobatics with a child's weight.

It's hard to miss, right next to the chimney, a cluster of arrows all somehow going into a tiny, tiny little bird-thing, and a surprising amount of blood gouting out. (It seems that the "shrink" enchantment wears off when the blood spurts out, since it's not "him" anymore.) There's the Griffin! And he's small and portable.

"Great Gods," March says as he daintily tries to extract the Gryphon from this mess. "Have Integra get the bandages ready!" the hare shouts. "I can try to bring him down."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harrison catches a rather pale individual straining, leaning out of a shutter that has been broken open, past some shards of broken glass.

"Didn't they say in first aid training not to move the victim?" utters Achilles with surprise. "If you jostle him too much, you'll tear his wounds! Hold on, we're on our way up!"

Harrison snaps his watch closed for now. He's not sure what else to do at the moment.

"Be on the lookout for any unwelcome interruption," the card advises the tiger lily. To the girl hurrying on nightmare-back, he says as he holds his hands out to assist her up the wall, "Integra, hold on tight and up we'll go! You're a good British girl, I know you've got it in you to save your uncle."

With some coordination, and some assistance from the creeping Tiger Lily and a handy latticework, the party manages to scramble up onto the rooftop and to gather around where a teacup-sized Griffin is pincushioned by arrows bigger than he is.

As the others gather around the Gryphon, he slowly creeps back to full size. Whatever Wonderlandish magic had served just to imperil him further has worn off.

"You make sure he lives ... I have someone to check on," March says as he leaves the healers to work while he investigates the man he saw peering out a window...

Integra busily digs around in her apron, pulling out bandages and wrapping her uncle up until he looks almost mummy-like. At some point, she managed to safely extract the arrows without creating any more trouble, and it seems that the Gryphon is, miraculously enough, coming around.

Achilles holds his umbrella up, opened to form a shield against arrows. "I'll keep a lookout in case those Chessmen get brave enough to come back," he advises.

"Well! If it isn't my good messenger, Haigha!" the pale man in the window exclaims, adjusting his crown, and squinting in the poor light. He is, quite evidently, the White King after all. "I had heard distressing things about Hatta, so it is good to see you are still yourself."

"Intact, well, and here to rescue you, sir," March declares. "Er, somehow. Let me see if I can reach close to that window.." And thus the hare tries to see if he can get within range to help the good king to the rooftop.

"Come back!" comes a shout from somewhere down on the bottom floor of the house. "You cowardly fools! The Queen shall not tolerate such insubordination! Back at once with the lot of you!" As of yet, it doesn't seem like the Red Chessmen are attending to this other fellow's commands.

"Griffin! Are you okay? What happened? It looked like you tried blowing the horn again, but it didn't work!" exclaims Achilles, moving to the bird-cat's side.

The White King looks quite surprised. "Oh! Why, yes, yes, I suppose I could manage this." He gingerly makes his way with his stubby limbs, but at last manages to find purchase on the rooftop. "Oh my! Quite the view up here, haven't we? I haven't been out of that room in, oh, such a long time. It's been all check and mate, you know, but it seems all the pieces have gone elsewhere, so I suppose it's all right to move again -- but I've never been very fast. Now ... your poor friend there. Could you kindly help me over there? I think he might need some attention, I dare say."

The card nods to Integra. "See if you can find his soup in his things. Or his Angel's Trumpet. He's still badly hurt, a little help from the Almighty wouldn't go amiss."

The hare tries to help the King over to the downed Gryphon. "We cannot linger here long, sire. The 'Queen' Alice has decreed you to be beheaded and taken to her 'party'. We need to get you under the protection of the hedge as soon as possible."

Integra shakes her head. "The soup isn't strong enough," she tells her uncle. "If you have it now, it won't do you any good. We'll have to get you better first."

The little girl applies some more bandages, and crushes some herbs she finds from her apron pocket, and then finds the soup and mixes a few bits in.

"Don't fret, Integra," Griffin mutters. "Half cat. This just used up half a life.. so I have four left.."

At last, Integra finds the soup in her uncle's pocket (under the mummy wraps) and mixes in the herbs. Then she carefully spoon-feeds it to him. Somehow, it seems to be helping a bit.

"Red Bishop, eh? Must be the sanctimonious git down there trying to get his men in order." Achilles peers at the still-noisy garden. "What do you think, March, should we go in and shut him up or make with the leaf-ing once Griffin's well enough to move?"

"I would love to stuff his hat in his mouth," March notes, "But we have bigger issues than revenge. We must see the King to safety."

The card sizes the White King up. "I'll start rigging up some rope then, so we can lower him. And Griffin, if he's not well enough to move."

"Looking Glass," Griffin suggests. He's not up to another complete sentence yet.

"Through a cracked mirror? One of those arrows must have hit you in the brainpan," jests Achilles. "Best we stash the King in the Maze first, at the very least."

The King looks about. "Ah yes. The Looking-Glass should be one way to move, but there is another route, if you've a mind to get away from this place. We are still on the base row, and I did not move under my own power from the castle. While I cannot heal your friend here, I can at least use a trick that could take us away." He digs into one sleeve, and, like a magician performing a trick, pulls out a scepter that seems a bit too long to have fit there. "It is known as 'Castling the King.'"

"Getting out of here is a good idea. As I said earlier, we do not an army make. Time to retreat and lick our wounds," March says. "Except .... I am not licking Gryphon."

"Do you have a few words you might want to say to your adoring public before we leave?" asks Achilles.

The card checks in on Griffin. "Ready to go? Or do you want angels to sing you better first?"

The White King smiles sadly. "It is only a temporary measure, of course. Even my castle is far from safe in these times. But now that I am no longer -- for the moment -- in check, it affords us at least one tactical move. I sense in you all a great potential. I am certain that you must be what we know of as Heroes."

"Not I. I am just a simple hare doing his duty," March claims. "And I suggest we go. We can blow noise at Gryphon anywhere..."

"You're a hare-o," Achilles attests. "March, you're better with words than I. Perhaps a little something inspirational for our flowers before we go, and then at the right time..." He waves his hands. "Whoosh!"

"Then, Haigha, Royal Messenger, please convey this declaration to your friends for me," the White King says, drawing himself up to his full height (for what that amounts to), and looking more regal if a bit worse for the wear. "To the Loyal Flowers of the Garden, I bid you all my heartfelt thanks, that you have risked your very roots and stems for the sake of the Kingdom of Whitefield. Your army has driven fear into the hearts of our enemies and emboldened the ranks of the faithful and loyal."

"I'm better at words, says the journalist," March remarks rather dryly, rolling his eyes at that. The King addressing him, though, draws the hare quiet. He bows to the rescued Monarch deeply. "As you command, my Liege," he intones.

The card grins. "I'm more the nosey type than the talky type. I just writes what I learns."

"Oh! Angel's Trumpet!" Integra says, catching the hint. She checks around to see if she can find the precious flower.

Integra, worried at the fact that her uncle is still wounded, digs out the Angel's Trumpet. She frets for a bit, uncertain whether to use the precious magical plant or not, but then resolves and blows the "trumpet," making a "taran-tara" of fanfare right behind Harrison. Suddenly, she is bathed in holy light and sprouts glowing wings. Under other circumstances, she'd be giggling and showing this off, but she immediately sets to using her (temporary) holy power to bathe her uncle in a healing glow. It doesn't completely restore him, but he looks ever-so-much further away from death's door.

*** GM Note: Griffin was Incapacitated, has temporary Injury to reduce Vigor to d4, but has been healed up to -1 Wound level. Injury goes away upon healing of last wound.

"To the Heroes Upon the Rooftop, I extend my heartfelt gratitude, and a Royal Invitation to join me at the Castle," the White King continues, smiling at the trumpet fanfare. "Forthwith." He makes a sweeping gesture with his scepter, then points it eastward.

And meanwhile, March has gone to the edge of the rooftop to address the flowers in the distance. "Lovely Ladies of the meadows, gardens, and all places of beauty upon this world. Today is a new day for all of Wonderland. Today is when the White King returns to all of us. Today marks the turning point in this horrible night that has been upon us far too long. Let it be known to all of you that the White King offers his heartfelt thanks. You have all driven fear into those who would seek this world harm, and have shown them that you will not go softly unto the compost! Long Live the King!" he announces loudly, clearly, and with much cheer!

"That... could have gone worse," says Achilles as he stands and moves to be close to the others, with his umbrella ready in case the White Castle isn't as safe as the King had hoped. "I'm glad this time the angels aren't singing you back home to eternal rest, Griffin. It was a close-run thing."

"Wish I'd had my camera set up.." Griffin mutters. "What a fairy photograph I'd have made..."