Mid-Winter Delights - Sorrel and the Sugar Plum Fairy
Dec 24, 2021 11:13:35 GMT
Riah, Wixspartan, and 1 more like this
Post by stephena on Dec 24, 2021 11:13:35 GMT
'Twas a dark night in Kantas, when all through Daring Heights
Not a creature was stirring, except for some fights;
The adventurers hung by the board in the square,
In hopes an adventure note soon would be there;
A ranger was nestled all snug in her bed;
While the sugar-plum fairy danced in her head;
And Sorrel in armour, and cloak and dark hood,
Was happy the hunger curse seemed gone for good,
When downstairs in Lucan’s there arose such a clatter,
She sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window she stalked through the room.
Looked down on the street expecting just gloom.
But the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to the cobbles below,
When what to her wondering eyes did appear,
But a sleigh with a sign saying; ‘everybody is here!”
With a little old driver who seemed fairly pissed,
She knew she’d been picked from tonight’s waiting list.
One horse open sleigh
As if in a dream she could hear shouts and cries and clashing steel and a brittle voice crying “my loving vassals, friends and brothers, will you stand by me in the hard fight?” In her mind’s eye she saw three Scaramouches, a Harlequin, four Chimney-sweepers, two Guitar- players and a drummer cry out, "Yes, my lord, we will follow you with fidelity and courage — we will march with you to battle — to victory or death." Then rank upon rank of red jackets seemed to pass below her in the street, looking paper thin and insubstantial.
She followed them through strange alleyways she’d never seen before, across vast city squares seething with strange folk who all stopped and stared as she passed, clearing a path in front of her until, suddenly, she arrived at a shop door which, for want of anything better to do, she pushed open. Nothing dangerous came out, so she went in.
There she saw a group of friends gathered in the parlour surrounded by decorations, beautiful trees and what looked like preparations for a party. Suddenly, as an owl-topped grandmother clock struck eight, a mysterious figure entered the room. Her name was Leona Autumn, a talented drinks maker who had brought with her gifts for four lifelike dolls who turned out to be Glint, Tayz, Kelne and Celina. Leona addressed the five of them.
“On the first day of solstice,
My drink list asked of me
Bark from the peppermint tree.
On the second day of solstice,
My drinks list asked of me
Something from somewhere
And some bark from the peppermint tree.
On the third… wait, there’s only one day in solstice,” Leona paused thoughtfully. “So, I need to go and get something from somewhere, but I need you to get the bark from the peppermint tree.”
“The last time I went shopping I became the subject of a soul wracking exorcism,” Sorrel said carefully. “This job sounds so amazingly easy that I assume we will all die.”
Merry Candlenights
Leona ushered them through a portal in space and time, and they found themselves in dark woods. Off in the distance they could see glittering lights and hear distant metallic sounds.
“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?” Glint murmured quietly.
“I can’t hear them, but I can see that in the lane, snow is glistening,” Celina breathed softly.
Kelne followed her gaze. “A beautiful sight,” he nodded.
Tayz smirked. “We're happy tonight, aren’t we losers?” he chirped. “Off you go, follow the trail, walking in a winter wonderland. I’m not fucking about in frozen water though. I’m a fucking Aarakocra. And I’m a crow, not a bluebird. I’m going to fly like a true bird. And sing a rude song while you stroll along, losers in a winter wonderland.”
As they pushed through the trees, the branches parted to reveal a soaring purple sugar plum castle with a tall glowing tree growing in its walls. The tree’s flickering light revealed a two-tone trunk of spiralling white and red stripes. The colours glinted in the pale moonlight, reflected off the snow, and a sheen of barely visible sparks of arcane power shot up into the sky and burst out in flowers of gold and green.
“This looks…” Glint’s voice died away as he searched for evidence of magic using arcane incantations. “Interesting,” he said finally. Something in his voice cause the whole party to stop in their tracks.
“This appears to be an area of highly concentrated wild magic,” the genasi looked concerned. “If the wild magic keeps building this castle is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions.”
“What do you mean biblical?” Sorrel asked.
“Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies,” Glint said thoughtfully. “Rivers and seas boiling. Forty years of darkness. Earthquakes, volcanoes. The dead rising from the grave. Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... or, it might be less dramatic.”
He paused. There was a contemplative silence.
“So… how would we find out,” Celina asked tentatively.
“Somebody would have to cast a spell,” Glint shrugged. “Which we’d have to do to get to the castle anyway seeing as there seems to be some kind of violence afoot.”
“Violence?” Sorrel paled. “And what have we done? War is over if we want it. I mean, another year over, a new one just begun….”
She chanted the ritual for passing without trace. “Silent fight, no need to fight, all is calm, all is bright. Creep in passless trace. Sleeeep in passless trace.”
Kelne cast mirror image, reality flickered, and all four versions of the cleric suddenly grew long beards of feathers. “Wild magic,” she spat. “And feathers,” she spat again.
“Could be worse,” Glint shrugged. “Looks like we’re in luck.”
"Ho ho ho," said the white bearded cleric.
Nutcracker? Sweet.
By the time they reached the castle gates the sentries were nearly dead.
Careful healing and cautious advancing lead the party into a palatial courtyard with stairs sweeping down, carved out of bright, sweet crystals like a child’s favourite toy and a stack of ratfolk corpses. As they passed under the stairs and into the second courtyard where the tree was suddenly flickering like a candle in the wind, a figure loomed out of the shadows.
“Hello chaps,” a voice rang out clearly.
“Freeze,” yelled Tayz.
The figure froze.
“Secure him Sorrel,” Tayz yelled, and the ranger dashed forward, happily discovering she possessed 50ft of rope. “What a strange and lucky co-incidence,” she thought. “Imagine the chances.”
Before she could put her shibari workshops to the test, though, the strange wooden figure shook its head… his head… and moved towards them hands extended in the traditional gesture of peace.
“I am the Nutcracker Prince,” he said. “The seven headed rat king has stolen the sugar plum fairy and is tearing the heart from the tree. Please help me. The war has been fought for years but he has new forces, and my Huzzahs are helpless against this their incursion.”
Nutcracker seemed a little disturbed at this. He had given orders, he explained, that his right wing should make a retreating movement. Large masses of mice cavalry had debouched softly from under the settee, and amid loud and hideous squeaking had thrown themselves with fury upon the left wing; but what an obstinate resistance did they meet with there! Slowly, as the difficult nature of the ground required — for the edge of the sugar floor had to be traversed — the china figures had advanced, headed by two Chinese emperors, and formed themselves into a hollow square.
These brave, motley, but noble troops, which were composed of Gardeners, Tyrolese, Bonzes, Friseurs, Merry-an-drews, Cupids, Lions, Tigers, Peacocks, and Apes, fought with coolness, courage, and determination. By their Spartan bravery this battalion of picked men would have wrested the victory from the foe, had not a bold major rushed madly from the enemy's ranks, and bitten off the head of one of the Chinese emperors, who in falling dashed to the ground two Bonzes and a Cupid.
Through this gap the enemy penetrated into the square, and in a few moments the whole battalion was torn to pieces. Their brave resistance, therefore, was of no avail to Nutcracker's army, which, once having begun to retreat, retired farther and farther, and at every step with diminished numbers, until the unfortunate Nutcracker halted with a little band close before the party.
Sorrel gasped. As a student at the House, she had read extensive studies on this long running low intensity asymmetric campaign in the Guerrilla Warfare and Special Operations journal from House assault teams hired to train the Huzzahs. As she considered the various articles, she felt a familiar anxiety bubbling up inside.
There was the first savage mechanistic account by the dark Bavarian mystic Eta Hoffmann, the more straightforward recollections of pioneering Marquesan unit commander Alexandre Doomas and the purely visual depictions of Rashemen-born sword bard Pytre Chaikovski. They all suggested attacks with footwear were the key to success against the seven headed king, which meant the party had an equipment shortfall, but Sorrel’s nervousness had nothing to do with combat.
It was the way Chaikovski depicted the Sugar Plum Fairy.
The first time Sorrel saw his vision of her delicate beauty was the first moment she became a woman. If the wily genius had portrayed her correctly…
Sorrel brushed the vision from her mind. She was a professional. “At your service and your family’s,” she bowed to Nutcracker.
More rapid than eagles the party they came,
Sorrel whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Glint! now, Kelne! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Tayz! on, Cupid! on, Celina and Blitzen!
To the sugary halls! to the top of the wall!
Now slash away! Stab away! Smash away all!"
“Are you sure you’ve taken a proper roll call Sorrel?” Kelne asked gently. “There’s only four of us.”
“But who cares?” cried Celina. “For the glory of Kantas!”
Where magic begins
And as leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they met with an obstacle, they made sure it died;
So across the sweet courtyard the attackers they flew
With weapons, and sleep spells and giant whales too,
And then, in a twinkling, the rat king was dead
Leaving weird eyes and ageing on poor Glints red head.
As Glint rummaged through the rat kings seven heads, the Sugar Plum Fairy appeared, and Sorrel’s knees dissolved. She thanked the party with a soft, hypnotic voice and offered them a reward which Sorrel leaped forward to take.
“Many thanks… I mean, most honour… it… really… could I just say? I mean, no, of course not, why on earth? Big fan. Big fan. Thank you.” And she tripped over her scabbard and wound up sprawled across the courtyard floor.
Fortunately, Leona Autumn appeared, removed them to the material plane and distributed such gifts as the party had never seen before. Tayz received an Ioun Stone that absorbed attacking magic, Glint received a restorative ointment from the sap of the Sugar Plum Tree, Peter received a shield and a sword, Susan received a bow and a quiver of arrows as well as a horn that would always bring help, Lucy received a diamond bottle with a healing potion and a small dagger while the rest of the party received Cocktails of Plenty, that filled with warm winter draughts of powerful consolation.
Then Leona opened the door and they filled out into the bitter cold of a mid-winter night. Sorrel looked across the square and saw her sleigh and driver waiting for her.
Santa Baby
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And she laughed when she saw him, in spite of herself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave her to know she had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And drove her straight home; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he wrapped himself up in warm scarlet clothes;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
So I know it’s not canon but I don’t want a fight —
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
Not a creature was stirring, except for some fights;
The adventurers hung by the board in the square,
In hopes an adventure note soon would be there;
A ranger was nestled all snug in her bed;
While the sugar-plum fairy danced in her head;
And Sorrel in armour, and cloak and dark hood,
Was happy the hunger curse seemed gone for good,
When downstairs in Lucan’s there arose such a clatter,
She sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window she stalked through the room.
Looked down on the street expecting just gloom.
But the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to the cobbles below,
When what to her wondering eyes did appear,
But a sleigh with a sign saying; ‘everybody is here!”
With a little old driver who seemed fairly pissed,
She knew she’d been picked from tonight’s waiting list.
One horse open sleigh
As if in a dream she could hear shouts and cries and clashing steel and a brittle voice crying “my loving vassals, friends and brothers, will you stand by me in the hard fight?” In her mind’s eye she saw three Scaramouches, a Harlequin, four Chimney-sweepers, two Guitar- players and a drummer cry out, "Yes, my lord, we will follow you with fidelity and courage — we will march with you to battle — to victory or death." Then rank upon rank of red jackets seemed to pass below her in the street, looking paper thin and insubstantial.
She followed them through strange alleyways she’d never seen before, across vast city squares seething with strange folk who all stopped and stared as she passed, clearing a path in front of her until, suddenly, she arrived at a shop door which, for want of anything better to do, she pushed open. Nothing dangerous came out, so she went in.
There she saw a group of friends gathered in the parlour surrounded by decorations, beautiful trees and what looked like preparations for a party. Suddenly, as an owl-topped grandmother clock struck eight, a mysterious figure entered the room. Her name was Leona Autumn, a talented drinks maker who had brought with her gifts for four lifelike dolls who turned out to be Glint, Tayz, Kelne and Celina. Leona addressed the five of them.
“On the first day of solstice,
My drink list asked of me
Bark from the peppermint tree.
On the second day of solstice,
My drinks list asked of me
Something from somewhere
And some bark from the peppermint tree.
On the third… wait, there’s only one day in solstice,” Leona paused thoughtfully. “So, I need to go and get something from somewhere, but I need you to get the bark from the peppermint tree.”
“The last time I went shopping I became the subject of a soul wracking exorcism,” Sorrel said carefully. “This job sounds so amazingly easy that I assume we will all die.”
Merry Candlenights
Leona ushered them through a portal in space and time, and they found themselves in dark woods. Off in the distance they could see glittering lights and hear distant metallic sounds.
“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?” Glint murmured quietly.
“I can’t hear them, but I can see that in the lane, snow is glistening,” Celina breathed softly.
Kelne followed her gaze. “A beautiful sight,” he nodded.
Tayz smirked. “We're happy tonight, aren’t we losers?” he chirped. “Off you go, follow the trail, walking in a winter wonderland. I’m not fucking about in frozen water though. I’m a fucking Aarakocra. And I’m a crow, not a bluebird. I’m going to fly like a true bird. And sing a rude song while you stroll along, losers in a winter wonderland.”
As they pushed through the trees, the branches parted to reveal a soaring purple sugar plum castle with a tall glowing tree growing in its walls. The tree’s flickering light revealed a two-tone trunk of spiralling white and red stripes. The colours glinted in the pale moonlight, reflected off the snow, and a sheen of barely visible sparks of arcane power shot up into the sky and burst out in flowers of gold and green.
“This looks…” Glint’s voice died away as he searched for evidence of magic using arcane incantations. “Interesting,” he said finally. Something in his voice cause the whole party to stop in their tracks.
“This appears to be an area of highly concentrated wild magic,” the genasi looked concerned. “If the wild magic keeps building this castle is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions.”
“What do you mean biblical?” Sorrel asked.
“Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies,” Glint said thoughtfully. “Rivers and seas boiling. Forty years of darkness. Earthquakes, volcanoes. The dead rising from the grave. Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... or, it might be less dramatic.”
He paused. There was a contemplative silence.
“So… how would we find out,” Celina asked tentatively.
“Somebody would have to cast a spell,” Glint shrugged. “Which we’d have to do to get to the castle anyway seeing as there seems to be some kind of violence afoot.”
“Violence?” Sorrel paled. “And what have we done? War is over if we want it. I mean, another year over, a new one just begun….”
She chanted the ritual for passing without trace. “Silent fight, no need to fight, all is calm, all is bright. Creep in passless trace. Sleeeep in passless trace.”
Kelne cast mirror image, reality flickered, and all four versions of the cleric suddenly grew long beards of feathers. “Wild magic,” she spat. “And feathers,” she spat again.
“Could be worse,” Glint shrugged. “Looks like we’re in luck.”
"Ho ho ho," said the white bearded cleric.
Nutcracker? Sweet.
By the time they reached the castle gates the sentries were nearly dead.
Careful healing and cautious advancing lead the party into a palatial courtyard with stairs sweeping down, carved out of bright, sweet crystals like a child’s favourite toy and a stack of ratfolk corpses. As they passed under the stairs and into the second courtyard where the tree was suddenly flickering like a candle in the wind, a figure loomed out of the shadows.
“Hello chaps,” a voice rang out clearly.
“Freeze,” yelled Tayz.
The figure froze.
“Secure him Sorrel,” Tayz yelled, and the ranger dashed forward, happily discovering she possessed 50ft of rope. “What a strange and lucky co-incidence,” she thought. “Imagine the chances.”
Before she could put her shibari workshops to the test, though, the strange wooden figure shook its head… his head… and moved towards them hands extended in the traditional gesture of peace.
“I am the Nutcracker Prince,” he said. “The seven headed rat king has stolen the sugar plum fairy and is tearing the heart from the tree. Please help me. The war has been fought for years but he has new forces, and my Huzzahs are helpless against this their incursion.”
Nutcracker seemed a little disturbed at this. He had given orders, he explained, that his right wing should make a retreating movement. Large masses of mice cavalry had debouched softly from under the settee, and amid loud and hideous squeaking had thrown themselves with fury upon the left wing; but what an obstinate resistance did they meet with there! Slowly, as the difficult nature of the ground required — for the edge of the sugar floor had to be traversed — the china figures had advanced, headed by two Chinese emperors, and formed themselves into a hollow square.
These brave, motley, but noble troops, which were composed of Gardeners, Tyrolese, Bonzes, Friseurs, Merry-an-drews, Cupids, Lions, Tigers, Peacocks, and Apes, fought with coolness, courage, and determination. By their Spartan bravery this battalion of picked men would have wrested the victory from the foe, had not a bold major rushed madly from the enemy's ranks, and bitten off the head of one of the Chinese emperors, who in falling dashed to the ground two Bonzes and a Cupid.
Through this gap the enemy penetrated into the square, and in a few moments the whole battalion was torn to pieces. Their brave resistance, therefore, was of no avail to Nutcracker's army, which, once having begun to retreat, retired farther and farther, and at every step with diminished numbers, until the unfortunate Nutcracker halted with a little band close before the party.
Sorrel gasped. As a student at the House, she had read extensive studies on this long running low intensity asymmetric campaign in the Guerrilla Warfare and Special Operations journal from House assault teams hired to train the Huzzahs. As she considered the various articles, she felt a familiar anxiety bubbling up inside.
There was the first savage mechanistic account by the dark Bavarian mystic Eta Hoffmann, the more straightforward recollections of pioneering Marquesan unit commander Alexandre Doomas and the purely visual depictions of Rashemen-born sword bard Pytre Chaikovski. They all suggested attacks with footwear were the key to success against the seven headed king, which meant the party had an equipment shortfall, but Sorrel’s nervousness had nothing to do with combat.
It was the way Chaikovski depicted the Sugar Plum Fairy.
The first time Sorrel saw his vision of her delicate beauty was the first moment she became a woman. If the wily genius had portrayed her correctly…
Sorrel brushed the vision from her mind. She was a professional. “At your service and your family’s,” she bowed to Nutcracker.
More rapid than eagles the party they came,
Sorrel whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Glint! now, Kelne! now Prancer and Vixen!
On, Tayz! on, Cupid! on, Celina and Blitzen!
To the sugary halls! to the top of the wall!
Now slash away! Stab away! Smash away all!"
“Are you sure you’ve taken a proper roll call Sorrel?” Kelne asked gently. “There’s only four of us.”
“But who cares?” cried Celina. “For the glory of Kantas!”
Where magic begins
And as leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they met with an obstacle, they made sure it died;
So across the sweet courtyard the attackers they flew
With weapons, and sleep spells and giant whales too,
And then, in a twinkling, the rat king was dead
Leaving weird eyes and ageing on poor Glints red head.
As Glint rummaged through the rat kings seven heads, the Sugar Plum Fairy appeared, and Sorrel’s knees dissolved. She thanked the party with a soft, hypnotic voice and offered them a reward which Sorrel leaped forward to take.
“Many thanks… I mean, most honour… it… really… could I just say? I mean, no, of course not, why on earth? Big fan. Big fan. Thank you.” And she tripped over her scabbard and wound up sprawled across the courtyard floor.
Fortunately, Leona Autumn appeared, removed them to the material plane and distributed such gifts as the party had never seen before. Tayz received an Ioun Stone that absorbed attacking magic, Glint received a restorative ointment from the sap of the Sugar Plum Tree, Peter received a shield and a sword, Susan received a bow and a quiver of arrows as well as a horn that would always bring help, Lucy received a diamond bottle with a healing potion and a small dagger while the rest of the party received Cocktails of Plenty, that filled with warm winter draughts of powerful consolation.
Then Leona opened the door and they filled out into the bitter cold of a mid-winter night. Sorrel looked across the square and saw her sleigh and driver waiting for her.
Santa Baby
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And she laughed when she saw him, in spite of herself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave her to know she had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And drove her straight home; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, he wrapped himself up in warm scarlet clothes;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
So I know it’s not canon but I don’t want a fight —
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
