Fae-rly Diplomatic

"Ummm okay??? So loike, yee start spending some toime wit te Chimera twins and all o'te sudden yee feel loike an arbiter of Monster etiquette? Yer Majesty- No, Lad trust me when I say this. Playing Manticore doesn't mean she's going ta let yee hit. But I respect t'at you'd throw me under the bus ta shoot yer shot.

Fer yer information, oim aware t'at I was a real shitehawk back in the day. Weren't my fault that I was raised sheltered in an age when titans still roamed the lands, skies and seas. Never having anyone allowed tae so much as sneeze at yee because yer blood summons te Wild Hunt tends tae make ye think yer some hot shite. I've apologized tae Heat for being an eejit and I WOULD have apologized tae fine Honey not Mead if she'd answered any of me fucking carrier pigeons!

Why is heat involved in this? Heat doesn't want to be involved in this. But also--

" Your Highness. You being raised in a sheltered environment is a reason for your past actions. Not an excuse for your current ones, sir. "

"AH DIDN'T ANSWER YER PIGEONS CAUSE T'EY ALL KEPT GETTING EATEN. GET A SPELL STONE LOIKE T'E REST O' US. AND QUITE DEAD NAMING ME. REX IS BASICALLY A MOSNTER AT T'IS POINT."

"YEAH-" "Shit wait, I've got the M Pass?"

.............

"Yeah wot'ever I'll buy te fucking spellstone if it'll get yee all tae quit jumpin me on focking live. At least take me out ta dinner first be'fer ye feck me in public Mallacht Dé ort.. I loiked te desktop site layout fer GROWLR more, But there's no accounting fer taste with a brit and a scot I suppose."

Hey so Croab, I'm not one to meddle in another's affairs. Trust that I am aware of your own royal status as Prince of the Gaels. And THAT is what brings up this question. Aren't you... a demi-god who famously distinguished themselves from Monster-Kind for all of your 400 years in the Quintessence Quorum of Pantheons? I've spoken to Honey Who you keep dead naming btw And they said you were fairly progressive for your day in associating with monsters at least but...

I believe Heat himself has attested to you 'crashing out' back in the day when you were mistaken for a Satyr by some hapless guards or soldiers during your journeys.

I mean, I get not wanting to be mistaken for a 'common' satyr, being a prince and demi-god. Though asking for said monster to be transferred to the front lines over it surely was a bit harsh. All I'm trying to say is that telling someone who's an elemental succubus hybrid that 'Humans' (irrelevant when they already qualified) are allowed on GROWLR cus otherwise -monsters- like you get left to stave off all the big chompy monsters is a little sssssssss

Monster Passing is not a good look your highness. Especially when you're centuries older than me. You should know better. And I'm not just talking out of my stinger. Surely Honey would back me up on this @sweet-chimera

"DO NOTE INVOLVE ME IN T'IS--"

"Boot yeah, he's roight Twiggy, Koinda fecked up o' yous..."

"Ummm okay??? So loike, yee start spending some toime wit te Chimera twins and all o'te sudden yee feel loike an arbiter of Monster etiquette? Yer Majesty- No, Lad trust me when I say this. Playing Manticore doesn't mean she's going ta let yee hit. But I respect t'at you'd throw me under the bus ta shoot yer shot.

Fer yer information, oim aware t'at I was a real shitehawk back in the day. Weren't my fault that I was raised sheltered in an age when titans still roamed the lands, skies and seas. Never having anyone allowed tae so much as sneeze at yee because yer blood summons te Wild Hunt tends tae make ye think yer some hot shite. I've apologized tae Heat for being an eejit and I WOULD have apologized tae fine Honey not Mead if she'd answered any of me fucking carrier pigeons!

Once more, He had ended up in a different forest entirely than the one he had set foot into. Surely the breath of the woods had some purpose in sending him here. It had so rarely done so in the past. And who was he to deny the sacred trees their clear message. Oisin Darach Croab, Son of the isle of Eire, student of the Guardian Trees, A druid sworn to service and fealty to 4 different empires upon his birth. And now a travelling envoy with the sole mission to bargain his beautiful home's safety in the face of encroaching occupation by mighty Rome and the Norse explorers. It was very common for him to travel on foot between nations. And of course he loved to do so by travelling through any woods he could, to learn of the forests and its denizens. Dryads, Goblins, Bucks, Harpies and-

Chimera???

"G'wan, g'wan, g'wan! Mead ya big fuzzball you! What's the Craic? What're ye doing all the way out here? I was half way in Gaul territory, Or did the forest lead meh back into Roman lands?"

There wasn't a wary film of mistrust on the monster, her face wasn't scrunched in an unsure grimace, but pure confusion. Multi colored eyes flicked down to look at each other before switching back to observe the goat.

Twiggy didn't look like the traditional ragged traveler. Instead, he looked like an ancient noble who was annoyed about being so out of sorts. Maybe a faun-- perhaps a fae court member? It was usually hard to tell from a glance other creatures affiliations these day, seeing as a monster to her was simple the dominant species to someone else in their own world. But hazarding a healthy guess was the best way to not get caught with your pants down.

"Eh?" She yipped, double taking the visitor. He was using familiar words and tones but how did he know her name? No one called her that anymore!

"Oh yer such a prankster Mead haha We both know I wouldn't have been cut out fer the Nursery! It would have been dangerous fer everyone involved."

The goat like creature, for it still wasn't apparent if he were more fey, beast or monster yet; was broadly smiling and now walking a slow circle around the lady of the woods a curious look on his face as he gently pinches some of the fabric of her clothes and seems to be quite impressed. "Oi'm nay gonna lie, I thought it was a very good glamor of strangeness you'd put upon your robes but it seems yee committed to the bit and made a whole costume. It's splendid! Did yee get some o'the silk from Arachne in her prison? Or did yee send fer it all te way from the east??" He seems completely unaware that things have truly taken a large turn from whatever status quo he believes in. Though he is still keeping a somewhat healthy distance between them besides the reaching over to test the fabric of her clothing as if testing the thread count.

"Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass. All round our nest, far as the eye can pass, Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge. 'Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass'"- Dante Gabriel Rossetti, (1828-1882)

"Beneath the twilight's gentle whispering veil, Where shadows dance and ancient tales we regale, The faeries flit, their wings all shimmering gleam, Through meadows kissed by moonlit dreams.

Their laughter rings, a melody so sweet, As soft as dew grass beneath our feet. We guard this land, this haven pure and free, A sanctuary 'neath the elder tree.

No foreign beast, no god of distant storm, Shall breach the peace where fae laws form. For here, the air is thick with magic's thread, A woven shield where Gods dare not tread.

The monsters roar, their cries a distant sound, Yet here, no harm, nor fear, nor strife is found. Our homeland stands, a weald strong and true, Its heart protected by the druids and you.

So let the skies above us billow wide, And let the world beyond our borders chide. For in this nest, where silence holds its sway,

We rest, we dream, we greet the break of day."

One day, the relative calmness of the Lost Hex's forestal regions saw itself disturbed by a force entirely foreign to the planet. The sky was still blue, patched with fattened clouds signifying a future storm. One would think nothing of an unassuming day like this. Yet sudden like a snap, and powerful like the sun, one of the oldest trees to survive in the region simply... parted like the Red Sea. Split down the middle, and bore its interior open, exposed to the world. The jagged edges formed a gnarled gateway, swirling and flourishing with incandescent energy and botanical particulate. At that moment, a theory was proven - despite there being no Zeti around, a wounded tree certainly does make a sound.

In response to the racuous anomaly birthing out of thin air, the woodland critters dispersed like a frightened mob; avians taking flight, land-bound creatures racing into the brush to avoid detection. It was unlike anything they had experienced. For that matter, the sentient locals would share a similar sentiment. They have yet to arrive, though between the tremors of the earth and the booming report of thousand-year-old xeno-bark rifting wide open, it would not be long before they did.

In noticing this disturbance, a certain chosen one decided to spring to action. Something is clearly amiss. A flame livid like a solar flare dashed its way down the highest peaks of Lava Mountain, expertly maneuvering itself along the unfriendly terrain and reaching the foot of the volcanic formations in record time. The rest of its journey entails a mad dash through the planet's various hexes, crossing from one to the other and cutting fiery swathes through anything that stands in its way.

If this is another unexpected invasion - heavens forbid the resurgence of the Benefactors - then the vanguard of the Zeti's plight had best answered to it first and foremost, lest the situation remains unassessed and a new oppressive blight is allowed to fester in their homeland.

In a flash, the Druid had arrived at the place he was needed most. Heeding the call of the roots, he had been brought here following the song of an elder in need of his protection or attention. That elder being the wizened mighty oak he now steps out of- The swirling portal closing with a -plink- like the sound of a single pebble being dropped into still waters. "Oi.. Yer in a mess of a state my friend. Oi'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. But Oi'm here now." The small caprine man says, hand reverently resting upon the rough gnarled bark of the large tree. A small pale gold light beginning to emanate from his palm as he begins trying to commune with the sacred tree and seek out its ailments. It was hard. Not the task itself. But knowing that this mighty creature, having strived for the sky since it was a wee sapling, and stood proudly for perhaps a thousand years was now nearing the end of its life. It had called out, oh so weakly. Singing the somber melody of its long life and the fear of what may come to pass in its forest should said life come to an early end. For Oisin, it was a pang in his heart every time he heard the whispers of such songs on the wind while he travelled the land on his missions for the various empires he'd been sworn to. And every time one of the ghostly songs ended- He could only hope it was because another druid or fae, or good natured person had answered the elder's call. But he knew that was rarely the case. There were so few of his kind now. Circle Druids experienced or favored enough to even hear the song. And fewer still that could cross thresholds thousands of measures long on their own power without weakening the tree further. But this time, Thank the stars,

This time, He'd answered the call.

He knelt now at the foot of the large being, Both hands placed solemnly at its bark. Eyes closed in concentration as he tried to mentally picture and see the problem. So focused on the immediate task he'd never taken a moment to consider his surroundings. To look to the sky or even feel the ground beneath him. He had no idea just where he was, just that he was needed.

Aww! It's been so LONG since someone has really buttered up the Doctor! Even if its VERY misguided! Very, very, very..... Very Misguided.

"Please, Please! You're too kind! But it really isn't magic, its all a science! And to an adept learner, you would be able to master it in no time at all! As someone who's perfected all of my pursuits, you've certainly come to the right place to learn!"

Huh. Why does this feel. Vaguely familiar.

"I'm not currently in a state for new hires, but loyalty is always welcome! I'll see if I can pencil in some private lessons. But ah- First. I'll need just a small favor... Just a pinch of your hair. To keep your DNA on my records in case any minor incidents or accidents may befall you! Don't worry..."

"Oh ye need some o' mah hair fer yer contract ritual? Of course!"

-PLUCK-

One long strand of magical Gruid (Goat Druid) admissable for either 1x incredibly potent magical enchantment and or contract thanks to its willingly given and intact nature. Or some science thing-a-majig bleep bloopery to study his cortisol levels and genetics. What could go wrong?

"Wonderful! You're a physician! I have the best luck sometimes, Do you mind teaching me some of your practices? I can pay in gold nummes aurues!"

"..." Is this guy serious? Oh boy, someone's gotta tell him....

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not that kind of doctor. I'm a psychiatrist. I specialized in hypno-therapy at one point, but bio-engineering became a passion project on the side. I can't really fix existing issues..."

"Oi've got about half a clue what any of that mostly meant. But from what I do understand yer an amazing physician! On par with the greatest heroes like Hippocrates or perhaps even ta gods themselves loike Asclepius if ye can restore entire limbs. Ye've -got- tae teach me some of your magic. I promise ahm a good student! Had nary a complaint from any of mah tutors before. And ahm great at doing chores"

(Blinkity Blink, blinkity blink blink.)

The amalgamation was usually an intrepid creature. Fear had been all but suppressed in her form, most emotions had, in fact. But when you could ape and approximate the correct responses for social situations, it hardly mattered what you actually felt or not.

But today? Something was different. There was something on the breeze, and considering that it was in her forest? That was enough to make any body worth their salt stand at attention. At least a former soldier.

So she investigated. Following the suspicious feeling on the wind. It felt like a deep seeded pit she's felt in the past. Surely it wasn't a go--

"Oh. Well aren't ye a we shock." This was definitely another creature. Monster... maybe. Fae?

Once more, He had ended up in a different forest entirely than the one he had set foot into. Surely the breath of the woods had some purpose in sending him here. It had so rarely done so in the past. And who was he to deny the sacred trees their clear message. Oisin Darach Croab, Son of the isle of Eire, student of the Guardian Trees, A druid sworn to service and fealty to 4 different empires upon his birth. And now a travelling envoy with the sole mission to bargain his beautiful home's safety in the face of encroaching occupation by mighty Rome and the Norse explorers. It was very common for him to travel on foot between nations. And of course he loved to do so by travelling through any woods he could, to learn of the forests and its denizens. Dryads, Goblins, Bucks, Harpies and-

Chimera???

"G'wan, g'wan, g'wan! Mead ya big fuzzball you! What's the Craic? What're ye doing all the way out here? I was half way in Gaul territory, Or did the forest lead meh back into Roman lands?"

"He's some lad in green back in tae fift' century who went on inte Ireland and spooked off all tae snakes wit' a magic clover and an ole' harp. So now on his day since he doied. Ye get shit faced and pinch and lad note wearin' green." LIKE THAT EXPLAINED ANYTHING.

"AAA YE GOBSHITE" "TA SEA WOULDN'T GIVE YA A WAVE IF YE SAILED IT"

Any and all level of interest in the knowledge being imparted by the strange doppelganger is instantly out the ear and out of mind as the overtly dramatic Capricorn throws himself to the floor to writhe like a leech doused in salt rubbing at his shoulder like he took an arrow.

"That was entirely unfair! Oi was listening to ya! How could you attack me so -viciously- after saying so many loony things about the fifth century and some madness about a harp an' snakes? St. Patrick is the worst fae trickster ever!"

@twiggy-envoy/@pancakemusebakery asked;;

"You're unlike any Forest King I've ever seen before.

Your trees seem to whisper melodies of decay rather than bloom.

Are they okay?

Are you?"

It's been eons since He was approached with any ounce of... Concern.

Mortals always have those pesky emotions to throw around and grasp for desperately. To fill that short life with purpose. Meaning. But to something like Him, it served no purpose. So it simply did not exist within His being to be capable of.

He almost finds the disturbance. Amusing. A heartfelt attempt to reach out and learn of Him.

Learn of God.

And as customary to those who reach out to God, at first [[ He does not answer. ]] It's an eerie silence. Something that travels up your feet to the top of your spine, drenching you with a cold sweat. A fear. Something unexplainable but is so vivid.

He dwells on the words for much longer than He normally would. Its a predatory silence. A watching, wanting, weight filled quiet.

A sudden shift in the air made it all too clear that this was -not- a place of respite. Hair beginning to stand on end across his forearms and the back of his neck, Oisin can only blame himself for having been foolish enough to enter such a decrepit forest. Rather than do the sensible thing and turn away the moment he found himself jumped to a new location via the fae-ways, He'd approached the deadwood, straining his cream colored ears to make out the slow whispered dirge of the forest. He's always shared kinship with plant kind, his mother a Dryad ensured he would know the ways of the leaves in the wind and the roots in the loam beneath his hooves. The network beneath all forests was a community and culture of its own. Just like people and their civilizations, plants held their own 'ways'. Such as that each forest was a slightly different community. The farther you got from home, the more different the song became. This made the low, somber almost reverent choir all the more eerie. There was no song of sun, of fresh loam full of life, of rain and its gifts. Instead, images of cracked dry earth Blood red skies, and the concept of horrible incomprehension visually represented in an eldritch smattering of jagged shapes and searing colors.

"Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine." (Under the shadow of each other, people survive) A steady pale glow like that of the moon would suffuse Kroov's chest gently spreading as it stops the pounding of both his heart and the splitting migraine in his head. Though the ward was still not fast enough to prevent him from tumbling to a knee. Having continued in, seeing past the illusion of the seemingly normal forest. Witnessing a decay that was paradoxically vibrant, he'd seen a figure. Mangled and still. Gleaned the status and title of said figure from the cacophony of whispers among the trees. And made the mistake of asking it a question.

"If you see something in the woods. NO YOU DIDNT. If you hear something in the woods. NO YOU DIDNT."

A law older than the Gods, than the civilizations that birthed them. One that Oisin Darach Croab had foolishly believed himself exempt from. As a child of the forest. But these were no longer his woods.

He couldn't do much but stagger to his hooves with a lopsided stance, labored breathing coming in short ragged gasps as the inner light of his courage glyph tries its best to not flicker in the oppressive Red glow of this realm in front of the being that just responded. A small trickle of blood flitting down from his nose and detaching at the tip of his chin to drip unto the thirsty ground. Clearly his own nature was having a visceral reaction to sinister figure. "Man oi'm nae gunna lie. Yer one -very- cursed lad. Or is it lass? Sorry.. o'im currently seeing double so.. Issa bit hard ta tell at the moment. Is this Demeter's doing? Hades? Don't seem loike Loki's fare.. But they did ya dirty."