Author Topic: Fae-med  (Read 3610 times)

Shifting Sands

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on: October 15, 2017, 11:55:19 PM
read like "famed" or "framed" ha ha ah



There was a reason that Virmir tended to avoid civilization, beyond the general hermit nature he possessed. When he got around others, there was this nasty habit of him causing collateral damage with fire when he was irked. Honestly, the people who received the collateral should have been thankful that they weren’t the ones that were being aimed at in the first place and only received some brush-off damage. Still, it ended up with him constantly being brought to answer for the things he did, often with some sort of payment or service. Being a hoarding mage, it was simple to do either of those things.

He didn’t recall doing a single bit of arson off in another realm, however! This made for a very suitable reason to grump and complain at the surprisingly bulky elves that kidnapped him and drag him back with them to the realm of the fae.

“Why are you pulling me away from important research?” he demanded of them, dropping a cookbook while they gripped his arms and slammed cuffs onto his wrists. They had already made it clear that they were sent by some very important something or other fae royalty, so he didn’t try and turn and burn them when they just walked into his library.

“Queen Titania and the Circle of Nobles wish to have you answer for numerous crimes committed in their places of dwelling,” the one who looked to be manipulating the portal behind him said, wearing heavy leather gloves that shone with runes. “They all have eye-witness accounts of your crimes. They will be administering your punishment, as well.” He sounded… bored, almost, like he did this daily.

“Ah, that’s funny, you see,” Virmir piped up, shaking his cuffed hands, “I never actually went to their homes or anything, because I absolutely hate portals and going to different realms. I try to avoid it at all costs, after, uh, failed tampering. Usually other people end up pulling me through. But that didn’t happen here either!” he quickly added. “I was here for the past few weeks!”

Neither of the two elves said a thing in response.

“Don’t I get rights or anything? You have to tell me my rights,” Virmir insisted.

More silence.

“Lovely,” Virmir grumbled. Apparently, this was going to be a painful and long trip to an uncaring monarchy. If he was lucky, though, he might be able to prove them wrong and slip out without having to pay anything at all.

When the temporary examination done by the cuffing-elf failed to produce whatever he was looking for, he grabbed Virmir by the arms and pulled him along like a rolling suitcase towards the portal. The fox winced, trying to move his much smaller legs in time with the towering elf and failing miserably. His strides were just impossible to match, and it ended up making his paws drag across the stone floor.

“Could you be a little more careful with your prisoner?” Virmir asked, nudging at the arm of the elf before he stepped back through the portal.

To his surprise, the guy did turn around and give him an answer. “Certainly,” he said, and gripped the mage by his waist, lifting him in one arm and throwing him on his shoulder, moving his vice-grip down to his legs to keep them bound together.

Virmir sighed and grunted, the force of the toss pushing the air of out him. When he got his breath back, he thought about complaining and grumping to the elves some more, but with the record he had so far, it would probably only lead to him having his tail tied to his back, and then his muzzle strapped down and held together. And as tempted as he was to respond to the overwhelming rudeness of having two random elves teleport into his home with fire, he was sure that they would be tough enough to handle some spells, and would have back-up at the ready. If they thought that two was a large enough force to bring him in against his will, then he didn’t want to try and either get them to dismiss that thought, or worse, prove them right.

So he just allowed himself to be pulled through the glowing green portal instead, the elf maintaining it stepping through after the one carrying him did.

The area on the other side of the portal appeared a lot like the forest outside of Virmir’s tower, surprising him momentarily. Then he remembered all those books he’d been reading in his downtime, saying something along the lines of the realm of fae being a more naturally perfect version of his own world – naturally, as in, the green, planty kind. All the trees were full of leaves on every single, strong branch, forming a beautiful canopy over him with the occasional sunbeam breaking through and warming him (when it didn’t catch in his eye). Thick strings of moss, almost like vines, grew along every tree trunk. The forest floor itself was full of numerous shrubs and grasses, each of them so colorful to appear as if the ground was just an enormous painting that had larger plants worked into it after the fact. Between the trees in the distance, a few antlered animals looked on at the group of burly elves and fox cautiously, while the rest of their herd grazed peacefully.

Wow. This place was an even better forest than what Virmir had to work with at home. Maybe he should have visited sooner and tried to get established here first.

Then the elf carrying him hefted him with all the gentleness of a log, squeezing him on his shoulder, and started moving forward at a brisk pace, the sights of the forest turning to a blur around him.

Hmph. Well, maybe he could come back a different time and see if there was an appropriate place to set up, far away from these unpleasant fae folk. Maybe a garden would grow some exotic stuff here. That would certainly broaden his tasting horizons.

Quicker than he would have liked, the forest gave way to a slightly urbane environment. “Slightly” was the only descriptor he could use, considering everything was still built into the trees and plants around the place. This spot was probably no different from the rest of the forest until the fae set up shop, though he did wonder how sections had been seemingly clear-cut while the rest of the trees were still standing, untouched except for additions of tiny platforms here and there, bits of additional flora force-grown in occasionally…

Did they reverse the growth of plants that were in the way, or were they just exceptionally skilled in covering up their lumber work? Could they will the plant life around them to part? Or were they somehow involved in the original creation of the plane?

Vir found himself feeling the most secure in them just being good at covering their tracks, of course. It was the simplest explanation and it meant he was dealing with people on the same magical level as him.

Okay, maybe they were a bit higher up – when he burned things down, it was impossible for him to hide the smoking debris. But what practical use was there to hiding your handiwork, anyway? Sure, it might look nicer, but he didn’t need to worry about that. He just made sure to protect the stuff he cared about the most with protective spells, or better yet, make it out of something fireproof.

His train of thought was derailed immediately by the elf “dude” shouldering his way through a doorway that he hadn’t seen. The air felt different, cooler, as he passed through the absent doorway, and on the other side, things appeared from nowhere. This new zone looked somewhat like a court room from his own realm (which he was unfortunately aware of thanks to jury duty), but enough items were changed to make it look scarily uncanny. The jury box was there, but it was occupied by many similarly dressed and shaped people, all in exquisite and fanciful dress. Their faces were so aesthetically perfected, like they had been shaped from stone rather than born into the world in some imperfect organic way, and they were all bordering on the line between androgynous and elegantly female. Their noses came to the barest of points, and their ears all went up past their heads, the tips of them disappearing into their labored presentations of hair. Moreover, each of them towered over the jury box containing them, and Virmir placed their heights at somewhere between seven and eight feet.

The fox didn’t think he had offended any people out of olden paintings or marble statues lately, so he wondered who exactly these elven beings were.

The disturbing game of “spot the difference” didn’t stop at the people, of course. He noticed that most of the benches that would seat anyone else involved in a case were gone. Those that remained were animate beings of wood, but the sections of them that made up the furnishings were locked in place. What must have been their upper bodies bent at the end of the bench, standing straight up. They moved around and locked eyes with the mage – their faces almost looked like carvings, but again, they were too well made to be shaped out by hand. They didn’t seem in pain, at least, so that made sitting on them the tiniest bit less creepy.

Even though there were only enough benches for a defense and prosecution, that didn’t stop anyone from forming a crowd behind them. Unlike the very eerily picturesque people that formed the jury, those sitting out in the grass that was the floor of the open court room (courtyard room?) were widely varied. There were extremely tiny, almost mote-like people with wings that were almost double or triple their size. He figured these were probably the titular faeries that so many books covered, but he was certain that now was not the time to try and procure one of their antennae or wings for a potion. Next up on the size scale were feral animals that held themselves like anyone with sentience would, and a notch above them were people like him, most of these people taking after the sorts of animals that would normally inhabit the forest, from foxes to wolves to deer, on and on. There were more of those elven types, though none were nearly as unnaturally pretty as the ones in the box. In fact, most of them looked… well, nasty was the nicest word to use, with blemishes and too-big eyes and teeth that had assuredly never seen a dentist. The sizes only kept going up, with what Vir thought to be ogres and the fae equivalent of dragons, serpentine creatures devoid of wings and arms, yet still standing on hindlegs, with scales in many bright colors.

The burly elf carrying the mage finally set him down in one of the uncomfortably alive benches, letting him finally move his limbs again… briefly, he discovered, as more twigs and strands of wood grew from the front of the seat to bind his legs to the spot. Virmir sighed and slumped forward, accepting that he was going to be very desperately in need of some stretching after all of this was said and done.

Now that he was properly facing forward again, he discovered the final major difference in the court. Rather than a tall bench or desk for the presiding judge, there was only an equally towering throne, occupied by the most flamboyantly and irritatingly royal woman Virmir could even hope to imagine. Her hair, in rich oranges and greens, fell all the way to the legs of her seat, billowing in equally careless and flawless amounts. Just like the nobles nestled in their jury box, her facial features were perfect – maybe even more so than the others, if such a thing were possible. For as conventionally beautiful as she was, she was bordering on unnaturally thin, like a bundle of vines that had come together to rule over the rest of these unruly fae folk. And with the way she twisted her arms and hair about restlessly in her throne, she very well could have been.

“With the accused present, the trial will commence,” she announced, projecting her voice throughout the area, a warm breeze accompanying the noise. No doubt this was the queen.

His analysis cut short, Titania went on to establish the proceedings, which, try as he might, Virmir was compelled to listen and take in. Order this, order that, and – right, trying the accused.

The queen looked over to the gathered fanciful elves and gestured, urging them to speak. One of them, a beehive styled hair atop their head, spoke; their voice did nothing to change their androgynous nature. “No doubt this rat here is the culprit,” they said, glaring with exceptionally squinty eyes down to Vir. “The monster scrambled out over my bedchamber’s balcony with gems worth his life a thousand times over. None of my magic could locate him. I’m certain he must have fled to that other plane of his to escape with the loot.”

Virmir scoffed. “Like I blasted care about –“

The wood binding him to the bench suddenly tightened, and that same breeze of warm air he felt earlier intensified… right in his gullet. He gasped for air and struggled, and not long after the seizing powers let off him. He could feel the glaring eyes of the queen on him, accompanied by a restatement of the proceedings: “The accused will stay silent until prompted.”

Grumping and bowing his head out of respect to the power she had, Virmir stayed silent and endured many, many more whining nobles accusing him of things he most certainly did not do.

“That very fink rifled through my milk and cheese stores,” one of them said, though they didn’t look like they would eat, to maintain an unnatural figure like theirs.

“His fur was found in my vineyards… as well as a sudden lack of jugs and vases with my newest creations.”

“And my foyer was torn apart after I returned from tea. My gathered works of art, dashed or stolen.”

Virmir rolled his eyes, and was immediately grateful that the queen was looking away when he did so. She turned back to him, and he simply met her gaze as steadily as he could manage. She was radiating heat like he did when he was really tapping into some magic, but she looked awfully calm, even bored. Now was the time for silent cooperation, no matter how much it bugged him.

After all twenty-four of them had spoken – he counted, with how long it dragged on – Titania held a hand up to stall them from further complaining. Her gaze stayed on him, now. “The accused may now defend themselves.”

Hesitantly, the fox looked around, back to the crowd, and back to the queen. “Do I get a lawyer?” he asked. That was a thing you got in courts. He was smart, but he didn’t watch crime dramas.

Putting on a wicked smile, the queen pointed out to the crowd behind him. “You’re welcome to choose any one of those to speak for you, if you’d rather,” she told him, settling back in her throne.

Once again Virmir looked out to the crowd. Many of them were jeering, some were drooling, and others still looked like they were desperate to see the spectacle that would unfold from him losing. The fiery fox shook his head and looked forward again, sighing. “Okay, point taken.

“As I was saying before, I couldn’t care less about anything that you all mentioned,” Vir began, looking up to the nobles. “I’m not decked out in jewelry, you might notice, and I tend to forget to eat sometimes, so I wouldn’t need to steal any dairy. Let alone wine! You could sniff my breath, I don’t drink,” he said, and puffed out a breath up at the nobles.

The way they recoiled at the thought of breathing in the same air as the accused below them made it worthwhile for Virmir, but he continued.
“Also, I tend to burn things. If I was going to demolish any of your stuff, I would have used fire, believe me.” He thought about conjuring a fireball to prove it, but he liked breathing too much to risk it. “I don’t do running very well unless there’s a wall of fire behind me.”

Titania cleared her throat, an errant rush of air forcing the fox to look back at her. “About that,” she said, pressing his muzzle closed with the same current. She thrust her wrist once, power spilling out from it like water, and the ground before both her and Virmir sprung up with vivid images… images of a grove burning, the underbrush scorched and the fire spreading into the treetops. “If you thought you could ignore the slights performed against me, I was there to witness the aftermath. You set my work back by decades. Nothing major in my rule, of course, but in your lifetime…” The same smile of hers grew wider, her bone-white teeth glaring in the light. “Well, the numbers just work out well. A lifetime punishment simply makes sense.”
Virmir gulped. He had too many other things to do to deal with in his lifetime to have some crazy powerful beings get upset at things he didn’t do. Unable to protest, he just bit his tongue as the queen went on.

“While the duration of your punishment is easy to decide on, I had to confer with the others you’ve offended to get a good idea of how to deal with it. They all seem to agree that the most important points are removing your troublesome magic and mobility. As such, I believe I’ve come to a fitting punishment…” The queen pulled her hand back like she was toying with a yo-yo, the magic that depicted the grove returning to her. She gathered it anew, tendrils of power dancing around her wrist and fingers, and slowly began to funnel it into the fox.

That would have been the perfect time to try and retaliate with copious fireballs, but unfortunately, the magic she was working with was already taking effect. Virmir had trouble keeping his eyes open so as to even aim any fiery projectiles, his limbs wouldn’t even struggle against their bindings, and he couldn’t open his maw… except to yawn. He fought and struggled to try and throw off whatever sleep or weakness the crazy powerful fae was working, but it was pointless. His senses left him in moments, and soon, so did his consciousness altogether.



Shifting Sands

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Reply #1 on: October 15, 2017, 11:57:59 PM
As quickly as his awareness had left him, Virmir felt it return in a flash. He hadn’t gotten off this insanely and creepily beautiful plane, but that was about the only similarity he could feel off the bat. Everything else felt… wrong. To begin with, he was taller, or at least he felt so. He wasn’t sitting anymore, he knew that much, and his view over the colorful and varied grasses and plants was more elevated than he was used to.

Even though he wasn’t strung up in the same place as last time – the open space ahead of him proved as much – he still felt bound to the spot. It was difficult to move against whatever power was held over him now, but with his trademark stubbornness he could fight it now. It felt as painful as snapping a bunch of wooden cuffs on his wrists and ankles, and the noise that accompanied his fight matched the sensation too well to be purely coincidence.

Carefully, the fox looked down to see his limbs encased in bark and moss. Blinking – which he found very difficult to do – he slowly lifted them and moved them around, and rubbed one against another. Strange – they felt more hollow or entirely wooden than like a covering. He rapped a paw against the opposite arm, and the sensation was the same in his hand as it was in the arm. There didn’t appear to be anywhere to peel off a wooden coat, either. It was possible, though unpleasant and unlikely, that there wasn’t any fur under it now.

And, as was increasingly becoming the case, he had a pair of juts below his collarbone that were shapely and round. Great; another pronoun shuffling.

Adjusting to the slower pace that her body forced on her, Virmir took more time to inspect her form, but nothing more was very shocking. All over her foxy form was bark and wood, though there were occasional patches of green, either moss or leaves or other assorted plant-life to break up the knots and grain of the wood. Without giving it much thought, she tried to call up some fire as a test, but was both relieved and upset to discover it did exactly nothing. Irritated, her tail swished behind her and smacked up against the tree behind her, sparking a bit of pain in her gut.

She bent over to cover her stomach from any further smacks in it, but when she realized there was no one else around to possibly hurt her like that, she began to put two and two together. A feminine form, made of moving wood and plants, tied to a tree… making her a dryad was an obvious choice to revoke her mobility. And, she hated to admit it, but it had a certain charm in terms of solving the problem. Not only did the fae stop what they saw as a problem, but they also got a tree and nature spirit out of it.

Virmir shook her head at the same tree-like pace. Whatever they did to handle their problems, they still had the wrong person. Not to mention she still wouldn’t be okay with this if she were to blame!

“Ooh, a new sprout?” a bubbly voice burst forth behind her.

Turning around and putting her hands out uselessly as a shield, Virmir spun to find another dryad reaching out with a gnarled, barky hand just a few steps ahead of what must have been their own tree. Without any further action on her behalf, the creature took her outstretched paws as an offer and shook them both with all the gentleness of a snapping branch, over and over. She pulled back from the powerful grasp and held her paws behind her instead, squinting angrily at the offender.

“Are you a mute?” they asked, jumping to conclusions quickly despite their wooden appearance.

Virmir tried and failed to roll her eyes and moved her hands and arms to fold under her chest. “I just don’t feel inclined to speak with strangers who nearly rip my arms off,” she answered, wishing for the power to summon a bit of fire to get this chirpy creature off her back.

“Oh!” the dryad gasped, covering their mouth (though it didn’t really open… there was just as much wood behind those lips). “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were so freshly grown!” She reached out again as if to apologize, but thought better of it. “I’m Nespa. Have you decided on a name or title yet?”
Taking some time to mull it over, she figured it was probably fine to disclose whatever she could with this… thing. She seemed clueless about her situation, after all, so what was the chance that she was there to spy on her? What could she do to escape, anyway? “Well, I’m not naturally this, and my name is Virmir,” she said, laying out as much as she could. She explained that she was brought here (unfairly), and this was her (unfair) punishment for a crime that she hadn’t committed.

Nespa looked her and the tree behind her over, listening to the explanation provided. When Virmir finished, she nodded. “I can’t say this grove has ever gotten ‘prisoner’ type dryads courtesy of Titania, but I’ve heard about her turning others into fae before,” she said, gesturing widely around. “Sometimes dryads, sometimes faeries and other stuff. But most of them lose themselves in what they become, if it’s any consolation!” Her tone was cheery, and not the kind that was trying to lead Virmir on; she genuinely thought she was being helpful with that piece of information.

Obviously, it wasn’t so. Virmir shook her head and groaned, looking around the place and rubbing at her temples. She still hadn’t worked on any hypnosis or mind control defenses, seeing as they only worked on her once in a blue moon, but this would have been a very good time to have them ready. The place around her looked beautiful, it was true, but she was worried that that thought wasn’t her own. Maybe Titania was already planting ideas in her brain.

Was “plant” the word she would have chosen there? Or was it a side-effect of this change?

“Look, Nespa, I’m sorry if you wanted a friend…” Huh, did friend always sounds so much like “fir-end” before? “But I don’t plan on adjusting to this.” Virmir stomped her foot down and spun on it, facing away from both her tree and the other dryad again. “I’m going to march right back to Titania or to anyone who can fix this and get back home. And if they don’t want to fix it, I’ll convince them.” Without her magic, she wasn’t exactly sure how, as her words hadn’t helped her coerce the brick-headed regals before. But she wasn’t going to be rooted here any longer!

Nespa tried to say something from behind her, but Virmir was too busy stomping along the grassy earth to listen. She made a few steps forward into the unknown of the realm, but it was only those few steps that she could manage. Her own body began to betray her, pulling back her limbs, one by one, leaving her leaning forward against what felt like an invisible net. She pushed against it, bringing every ounce of power in her to bear. Finally, she was beginning to match it, maybe even overpower it…

But in the next moment the force against her doubled, and her effort didn’t compare. She faltered for a second, and the invisible energy sent her flying back, all the way into her tree, the feeling of falling stopping as soon as she made contact with it. Groaning and struggling against the tree, she fought like she would to surface in a pool of water, breaching the surface once more and falling onto her knees in the process. She grumbled and rubbed at her sore and stiff limbs from having been put back into the plant, testing and stretching her joints to be sure they still worked.

“Yeah, um…” Nespa cleared her throat, and when Virmir looked up to her, she blushed in response. “I was going to say, dryads are typically bound to their trees. I figured Titania would only make it even more so. The ones who aren’t prisoners learn to shift from tree to tree and plane to plane, but… well, sorry, but I don’t think you’ll be able to, even if you learned the process.”

Vir just sighed and stayed a few steps away from her tree, determined to not end up as a part of it again at the least. Pushing off her knees to stand, she looked around the area again, trying to spot anything at all that would be of use to escape. Maybe she could try to “climb” her way across a whole bunch of trees to escape, using each on the way as a sort of anchoring point? That is, if they didn’t absorb her just like her own did. Not to mention she had no idea if that binding force got stronger the further away she got. She doubted there would be any way of burning down the plants here, either, considering so many of the fae were themselves all planty.

She was, too, which made being around fire all that much more dangerous. Maybe that should just be disregarded as a plan.

So she didn’t have any way out of this, then. She truly was stuck, rooted to the spot, turned into some form she was totally unable to understand and properly utilize.

…but she did just so happen to have a very bubbly and talkative dryad at her side.

Virmir turned to face said dryad, looking as calm as she could manage despite the panic she had almost let seep through her veins. “Nespa, you seem like you know and talk a lot with fae.” Unfazed, Nespa nodded and smiled, looking like she was ready to go rattling off every single one she knew, but Virmir was able to hold control of the conversation by just continuing to speak. “Since you do, do you have any idea of who people suspected of irritating the nobles?”

Even with how much Virmir suspected of her being a gossip, Nespa could only shrug at the question. “I mean, lots of folks don’t really appreciate them. And it’s not like anyone knew exactly all that had happened; there were some murmurs and warnings of just not going near Titania and those close to her after they got all buzzy. I don’t think there’s any grouping of fae who try to steal from or annoy them on the regular…” She trailed off, putting her hands out, wooden palms up as if to offer all the nothing she had on supply.

This was the only idea Virmir had left in her hollow head, though, and she wouldn’t part with it so easily. “Are you sure? There’s nothing, nobody you could ask about it?”

Nespa looked down, frowning and avoiding Virmir’s fiery and determined stare. “I don’t know any chain gangs or anything!” she declared, kicking at the ground. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met to have personally wronged Titania.”

Well, she hadn’t, Virmir wanted to insist, but yelling that at the other dryad probably wasn’t going to jostle her memory. She kept her mouth shut on that front, but refused to give up. “Okay. If you don’t know how you could find offenders, do you know who or what would steal wine, gems, dairy, and art?”

Unfortunately, all Nespa did to answer that at first was giggle. “I’m pretty sure most every fae, ever, would try their hand at taking all those things if they could get away with it. …sorry if that’s not helpful. But wine and dairy, they’re the ambrosia of our kind! I know your plane’s people enjoy them, too, but it’s just not on the same level for us. Gems and art, well, I suppose they’re probably worth a lot to some of the more materialist fae. Not worth so much if you stand out in a forest for all your life.” She rubbed her chin at that, and broke out into a wider smile. “There! That’s something, at least! They’ll be someone more like the nobles than us.”

As angry as she was that she still had a ways to go, Virmir had to admit that she was somewhat closer to the culprit than before. She rubbed at her temples uselessly, trying to pry out some other clue or evidence she had left out before. In a flash, it came back to her, and she spun to Nespa once more. “What about fires? Who would burn something owned by the queen herself?”

Nespa gasped, and not just from the sudden turn by the fox-turned-dryad. “By Queen Titania herself? No one!” She took a moment to look up and down, searching for the right words. “No… no one would even… they… I don’t think anyone could even use their magic on her property. How would they manage that…?”

Virmir sighed and slumped back to the ground. If something shouldn’t be able to cast around Titania’s place, then she was stuck on the same question as Nespa. How powerful would they need to be to bypass that super-powered queen’s spells? Dejected, she readied to fall back into the tree behind her. Maybe she could just come back to it later. She wouldn’t be on the same level as someone able to beat the queen and start a fire around her…

Unless maybe they didn’t mean to cast it, or otherwise cause it. With some renewed energy, she stood straight up, her mind racing faster and faster now. Her own experience with fire told her plenty – it was unruly, dangerous, and easy to spark. Whoever had been behind those crimes didn’t take anything from the grove, either, yet they had stolen from everyone and everywhere else they’d been to. Why else would they have left so suddenly without some sort of prize unless they had slipped up and ran?

“Quick, Nespa,” Virmir prompted, trying to speak as fast as she thought, “is there anything that can, I don’t know, accidentally start a fire somehow?”
Nespa snorted and laughed. “N-no?” When Virmir’s expression deflated, she kept talking, trying to prevent that. “Er, uh, maybe just about anyone could. I’m not sure how. Maybe Titania has… lanterns in her grove? Someone could have bumped one, knocked it into the grass…”

“But they’d be hanging from trees or something, wouldn’t they?” Virmir asked. “They’d have to know they’re there. Why would someone be sneaking about so closely to the trees and then knock an open flame off its perch?”

Already she had some more to work with than minutes before. Whoever was truly responsible somehow had the same fur as her, yet was fae, and might be… unwieldly enough to end up ruining a sneak session when they otherwise hadn’t many times before.

Nespa giggled again. Virmir lifted an eye as much as she could in her direction. “S-sorry,” she said, still giggling, “I just thought of something funny, something like that. I’ve heard of changelings trying to get away with thefts like that. They make themselves all burly, taking on the form of an ogre or some furry monster, rough-arm their way into stealing… and then they get caught in the doorway on the way out!” She laughed, covering her mouth.

Virmir facepalmed. Were those crazy bug things responsible for this? She had already had enough of just one in her lifetime, and this was only going to worsen their standing with her. “Nespa, do you know any changelings? Or any way to get a hold of others who do?”

“Oh, uh… not really,” she murmured, rubbing at the vines along her neck. “Most changelings are put over in your plane, or they just move there on their own. I’ve heard they really like the smell of waryseed, if that helps? Apparently it’s good for identifying them, and if they get a hold of it, they can brew something that makes any imbibers all totally complacent –“

Virmir gently grabbed the dryad’s side to stop her rambling. “Do you have any? Can you grow any?”

Unsure eyes meeting hers, Nespa nodded; slowly at first, then over and over, beaming. “Yes, yes I can grow some! Do you think that…”

Returning the same sort of nod, Virmir allowed herself to smile, the tension in her wooden body changing from despair to excitement. “If there’s a changeling still here, and the smell might lure them… that’s our best chance.”

Already Nespa was moving back to her much better-looking tree and the fertile ground around it, coaxing some seeds free of the earth and working to find a spot to set them in. As she started planting and tending to them, she looked back at her company, asking the obvious question. “But even if we do bring this changeling by, how are you going to catch them? And turn them in?”

Trying to relax, Virmir slid back into her tree, letting the wooden hold of the planty prison embrace her. “Don’t worry about that,” she assured her. “I have an idea for that. I’m just going to rest.”

“Alright,” she heard Nespa say. And then she did her best to sleep, the tree all too accommodating for that purpose.



Shifting Sands

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Reply #2 on: October 15, 2017, 11:59:21 PM
While Virmir was asleep, she dreamt plenty… or so she thought. There were probably birds singing and bugs buzzing around outside while she was holding herself away in sleep, and more than once she was certain that was reflected in her mind. But no major disturbances happened while she kept herself out, the occasional blink of consciousness happening but quickly being quelled. She had to wait for the best moment, and that would only happen when someone else was moving around outside of her tree… someone her size, her shape, with her form…

Her ”nap” went on for some time that she couldn’t sufficiently track, but when she woke up, she was certain of the time. The sun was setting, putting a twilight over the grove around her. No one, not even Nespa or a bothersome bird, was around. Yet she could still feel something around, something that she had been looking out for since she put herself to sleep. No matter where she set her sights, she couldn’t see anything moving, not even out of place…

Until someone who looked just like her before that stupid queen had changed dropped from the branches above her. The gray fox, complete with cape, clambered around on the forest floor, sniffing low to the ground. Virmir was tempted to grab her doppelganger already, but she held back for him to get closer and into position.

Inch after inch, he moved towards the plants that she knew Nespa had planted, the seeds now sprouting into something with fronds and drooping flowers. The nose on the fox trailed along the ground, raising up to meet the flower of what must have been the waryseed, taking a deep whiff…

That was the moment. Virmir threw herself out of the tree, all the effort she could have put into magic going into her push and follow-up grab of the copycat. She wrapped her wooden arms with vice-like strength around him, squeezing his sides and holding him in place.

Immediately the clone yelped and fought back, trying to elbow Virmir in her own sides and finding stiff resistance. With another yelp and groan, the fox pulled his arms back from the too-tough block, panting and struggling with weak wiggles. “Let me go!” it demanded, though its voice was nothing like she expected it to be.

Apparently, it couldn’t copy everything; it was too high-pitched and squealy.

With a solid hold on the copy, Virmir started marching forward, fighting the grasp of the tree on her form. All her energy was being put into physical use… and it wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed, but she needed to do it. “I’ll let you go as soon as you drop the act and admit you set me up,” she demanded, struggling with step after step.

The terror set in immediately; the changeling craned its neck to look back at its captor, and in seconds the color literally drained from its face. The foxy shape of it melted away, leaving a pale and only vaguely humanoid shape behind, still held in place – but only briefly. Upon recognizing that its framing wouldn’t work anymore, the creature tried growing, but the branch-like arms were as strong as Virmir needed them to be to stop it from shifting. It kept up the fight, refusing to stop trying to change, from bigger things to smaller things to scaled things to furred things. None of them could get out of her grip, though, and she just kept marching.

“Just admit it!” Virmir growled, still pressing against the spell trying to hold her back. “Admit it and I can… let you go!” The strain was starting to show in her voice, but she hoped her bargaining would hide that.

“Why do you even care?!” The changeling fought and fought, even putting on the illusion of being on fire, but the lack of pain and heat made it too obvious. “You got caught, not me, so it doesn’t matter anymore!”

“You’re right,” she grumbled, her movements forward coming in jostling, unsteady steps. “But… m-maybe it’s… for my conscience! Ad…mit it!” Virmir held for dear life on the changeling, pressing forward with her prisoner like a life jacket.

With her eyes shut tight (like it would help against the strain she felt), the changeling finally stopped shifting, still struggling… but began to speak. “If I say it, you swear you’ll let me go?” It sounded like it was pleading now – she really had it on the ropes.

Opening her eyes to be sure of something, Virmir closed them again and held like an oak in a storm, the changeling ahead of her. “I swear,” she said, arms like vines around the creature.

The thing’s mouth started to open… but abruptly closed, glaring back at her again. “You swear it on your power! Not that you can use it, but do it!”

Man, Virmir was going to enjoy having the ability to roll her eyes again. And fur. And… everything. “I swear on my power; if you admit to framing me for your crimes, I… will let… you go!” she forced out, the strain wearing greatly on her now. The nap had prepared her somewhat, sure, but this was not something she was meant to do with this form!

It took a miracle to force the thing to finally cough it up, but it did: “I admit it! I framed you! I stole as much as I could with your form since they’d never suspect me, and I had to lay low after I nearly burned down all Titania’s grove just looking for some more of this waryseed! Now let me go to gather that stuff!”

“With pleasure,” she sighed, letting her arms off the changeling, the squirming from before sending him forward… and up against the front of Queen Titania. Slipping back against the binding force, Virmir flat-out let the tree pull her back into it, able to see the Queen grab the changeling by the wrist, sporting the same wicked grin she had before when working her magic.

Back to sleep, then, she figured, relaxing and hoping things were in capable hands.



“I was wrong about you,” were the first words Virmir could hear when she came to. No, he was back to being he now, that ever-present feeling of being chained to a tree dispelled – and thank goodness for that. He opened his eyes to find himself sat before the same sort of grand throne that was in the courtroom before, Titania sat up on her perch.

Rubbing his fleshy and furry arm, the mage nodded up at the queen. “I’m glad I could show you that,” he said, figuring that was about as snarky as he would be able to manage in her presence. He also figured he wouldn’t manage to extract an apology greater than that from her, even if doing otherwise would kill her.
 
She seemed amused that Virmir was fighting to worm his way around in words to find the most passive aggressive responses possible. “As am I. I would hate to dole out justice incorrectly,” Titania said, but it didn’t come with any sincerity. “While I figure out what to do to deal with the true culprit, I ought to give some sort of recompense for your year served.”

Virmir sputtered, unable to hold his voice back. “A YEAR?” he repeated, eyes wide open. “I was in there for a whole YEAR? A year, wasted?”

“I wouldn’t call it wasted,” the queen mocked, showing her perfect teeth off. “Your quick friend, Nespa, told me all about your plan and talk with you. I’m sure you knew that it would take so long for the waryseed to grow. Why else would you be so eager to start the process and stay in waiting so long?”

Grumbling, Virmir thought about everything that he had missed for a year. All the rescheduling he would have to do… but at least the worst of the meetings had been put off, maybe forced to a whole annual delay. It was bad, sure, as it was a whole year of progress lopped off his life. It could be worse, though; he could still be in a tree.

“However,” Titania continued, “seeing as you treated my subjects with respect after being wrongfully imprisoned, and you went so far as to redeem yourself by finding the true criminal, I believe that you are entitled to claim possession of the grove that burned because of that careless thief.”

A mix of emotions ran through Vir’s brain at that. At first, rage – “redeem” was not the right word for what he’d been roped into doing to prove himself right. Then, some sort of joy or fulfillment – he was going to get some land in this realm after all! Followed up by strong disappointment… what use was a burnt wasteland of a grove to him?

Sensing the final of those emotions, Titania leaned forward in her throne. “I’ve salvaged most of what was there. It’s a clean slate – just a covering of grass over fertile dirt. You may do with it as you wish, though I get the sense that you wouldn’t mind building over it.” She moved back to relax in her seat, and waved a hand dismissively at the mage. “We are on even terms now, ‘Virmir.’ You owe me nothing, nor I, you. Although I admire your tenacity, I don’t especially enjoy how you believe yourself above a royal. Due to that, I’d appreciate if we kept out time together to a minimum.”

“Agreed.” Virmir stood and walked his way out from wherever he was, the spot too forested away for him to even guess the location. After he had walked a few steps out, his vision blurred, and after blinking it out, he found himself in a plains-like spot of the plane, complete with a portal like the ones the burly bodyguard elves had conjured up before off to one side. Peering inside, it looked like it led right into his tower, maybe even the very spot he’d been stolen from. Off in the distance, at the edge of his sight, trees stood guard, blocking what must have been the grove off from any intruders. If he squinted especially hard, he thought he saw a wooden form working its way through the tree line, tending to their branches and leaves… or maybe he was seeing things.

As he approached the portal, studying it and wondering if he could cut the thing off to recreate it when he liked, some more thoughts ran through his head. The foremost of them all… there were even more types of those annoying changelings?!



Virmir

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Reply #3 on: October 16, 2017, 12:42:49 PM
Gah ha ha, this is pretty great!  The transformation is unique-- always thought about how to properly do a dryad transformation as well as explore their powers and limitations, so that was fun.  Also enjoyed the discovery/deduction process and the descriptions of all the different types of fae.  The one year thing was an amusing realization and liked the "more changelings?!" at the end, ha ha

Good story!

[fox] Virmir


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Reply #4 on: October 18, 2017, 05:12:36 PM
I really liked it! I was expecting him to get turned into a fairy, to be honest. A dryad was a much more exciting route, though! I never thought about a dryad TF before, so this was really interesting.

Definitely not a walnut.

Quote: "Racks are nice, but I prefer the kind you hang coats on."