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| Carrabosse, the Demon Fey |
behind us. But even as we celebrated, troubles beset the kingdom. For there were rumors that dwarven soldiers had again been seen in the land, making their way dangerously close to the capital, and there was talk of workers disappearing in the Undercity. Surely, Rumplestiltskin had not guessed the extent of our ruse? Again our forces were split, but there was some good news that morning. The Forest Spirits had come to our aid once again, their friendship having been secured upon our defense of Betto. Most of our group made preparations with the troops and forest spirits while Kala and Thumbelina journeyed into the Undercity. I feared for Kala in those hours: for Eisengrahm, Rumplestiltskin's former slave, revealed many things to Kala about their origins. It would seem Kala, Reynard, Eisengrahm and their people had been created, experiments of a sort, crafted by great magical powers the likes of which we had yet to discover. Kala entered the Undercity with a heavy heart, heavier than any of us knew... Their preparations complete, the rest of our party held firm as the enemy swiftly approached (I of course was standing ready in the throne room by this time). A fierce battle raged as the Dwarven soldiers finally crested the hills, but this was but trite compared to the horrors of the Undercity. For in that dank place Kala and Thumbelina made a disturbing discovery: Green Men, Goblins, Satyrs and all manner of terrible agents of the Unseelie Court had tunneled in and made a terrible fort in the roots of the City of Brambles, and their lieutenant, a horrid Green Hag atop a terrible blind serpent, was rallying her troops to burst forth and spill out into the city streets. Through their magicks, the duo was able to thin the ranks of these dreaded creatures, but not before the Hag and her steed burst screaming onto the surface, calling for the blood of every citizen of Dornstadt. Kala and Thumbelina made their way into the fray, but not before Thumbelina noticed a strange yearning, a psychic sensation tugging at her with panicked urgency. For the magic vines that covered the city seemed to be reaching out to her, calling, desiring only to protect their city. But what was Thumbelina to do? The chaotic battle that filled the streets took precedent over such thoughts, and my friends fought valiantly to hold back the wave of death slowly covering the city. But the Hag still stood, and her raving mount retched poison and tore viciously at everything in its path. It was then that Tom Thumb arrived, our diminuitive friend from the tavern, whose connection to Thumbelina was still a mystery. Having felt the pull from the vines as well, Tom Thumb had sought out his counterpart, and despite his fears he believed they needed to grasp her petal once again. Even from the castle I was nearly blinded by the great green flash of eldritch energy that showered the city at the strange, glorious moment. For the old vines, sensing the nascent power in the two curious creatures, reached out with strength renewed and over took the duo, and all our friends who stood nearby. I am told it was a dreamlike experience: there was a moment of darkness followed by a sensation of lifting fog. With eyes that were one but many, my friends looked about at the strangely diminutive city. With great green fists made of coiling thorny, sinew and massive feet that jabbed into the ground, digging under the cobble stone streets, searching for sweet soil and nutrition, the great plant thing that was once my friends charged at the serpent (there. that "turning into Plant Monsters" thing ought to be cleared up now). Thumbelina has since described the experience as a marvelous fantasy, while Kolobok found it unnerving and strenuous. Kamien, who had stood a ways off and had not become enjoined in the great plant beast, simply said "It looked gross." With this strange new found power my friends fought valiantly against the Hag and her pet, and when the two finally shrieked out in death, we thought the day had been won. But alas, this was only a prelude of the horrors to come. For a great dark cloud crossed the sky, and our hearts went cold as we heard the cry of a legion of wolves. The gates were thrust down and a platoon of elite Dwarven Soldiers burst through, led by Rumplestiltskin, his old mount replaced by a mere horse. The cunning devil must have indeed discovered our ruse for what it was, and if that was true, the day could not end well. Uncountable wolfshades raced down the walls into the city, and their leader, the Terrible Wolf himself walked freely amongst his pack. And finally, in that moment of unrivaled horror, we heard the shriek of the demon faerie. With great wings of shadow, she crushed the defensive wall in her wicked dragon form, and with a great roar she destroyed my friends plant body, and covered many houses in flame. At the castle, Dwarven soldiers clashed with royal guards as I stood at the ready. I confess now, in that moment I committed the greatest sin of my vocation: in my despair I threw my lute down, and declared there could be no songs worth singing on that bloody, ruinous day. Taking a dagger from my boot, I abandoned my station at the King and Queen's side, and plunged at a Dwarf soldier, howling and stabbing at his throat, believing this to be the end of my tale. It was not until I saw those dark wings swiftly approaching that I returned to my senses, and leaving the fray I rushed to the Royal Family, pleading with them to flee this sad scene to live another day. But Carrabosse was upon us. The guards were no match. I watched as their bodies were ripped and torn, some had no time even to scream before she was upon them. Clutching the Queen's hand and begging their forgiveness, I thought us dead and ushered to heaven when we found ourselves in that warm, bright manor. For Reynard had returned, and ushered us into his abode, safe from danger. It was here that I was reunited with my friends, save Kala, who had been caught up by Wolfshades before he could be rescued. We feared for his safety, but there were greater matters afoot. Reynard wished to help us, and thus did he take us before his Superior, King Noble, a great Lion who ruled justly through the might of his magicks and strength. Making our case, we pleaded for him to aid us, knowing full well we were asking him to sacrifice the security of secrecy for his people. Promising to grant his people safe harbor in Dornstadt should it be saved, he agreed to our terms, and gladly did we return to Reynard's war room to discuss the rescue of our friend. Reynard kept a magic map, one that could find Kala's location in the city, and detect the Wolfshade patrols where they stalked. With this knowledge, we each burst forth from a different door surrounding our friends location, thanks to Reynard's magic house. In that instant, Reynard's folk made use of their own houses, leading patrols of surviving soldiers and forest spirits in surprise attacks from every door in the city. Once our plan was in motion, we found ourselves in a vicious battle, for not only were we greatly outnumbered by Wolfshades, but their Master was finally among them. Having faced only portions of his strength before, nothing could prepare us for his might made apparent before us. With dread magicks he battered our crew for long hours into the night, but finally he staggered as his pets were defeated and his body was wrought with fatigue. But in that victory lay the most damnable tragedy of all, for the Wolf gave up his physical form, wishing to heal, and so passed his remaining strength to his faithful servant: Kala, the Wolf's trusted spy, a secret traitor to us all along. In that tragic battle, Kolobok was struck down. I watched as his body crumbled, and as Grumpuddle weeped beside him. This was not a wise choice for Kala. For Grumpuddle's power was greatly hindered in his constant attempts to keep Kolobok whole. No longer shouldering this responsibility, Grumpuddle revealed once again his dreaded true form, and growing like a horrid, living mountain, Grumpuddle swallowed Kala whole, dragging his soul deep down into a cavernous abyss. Despite our grief over two lost friends, we pushed on into the throne room, to finally face the evil that had long plagued Dornstadt, and to finish the battle once and for all. It was then that we were reunited with Betto, who had fought with the forest spirits till then, but sensing our grief he joined us to lend us his magical strengths. Carrabosse sat upon a throne of thorns. Green flames burned in the lanterns. And the floor was wrought with the broken and bloodied bodies of the royal guard. At her side stood Rumplestiltskin, who had taken back the Altar of Oaths. We spared them few words before we made our attack. Kamien threw a dagger into the Altar, wishing to finally claim vengeance for Varjo. The rest of us focused our attack on Carrabosse. The hall rang with the sounds of our battle. Sword beat against sword as Rumplestiltskin and Kamien dueled. And Carrabosse sent volley after volley of heathen magic our way. Rumplestiltskin was finally struck down, and coming forth from a spectral whirlwind emanating from the Altar, a hooded ghost grabbed him round the throat. Dragging Rumplestiltskin screaming into the void, Varjo laughed and threw off his hood. Our friend had been avenged. But the battle raged on, and Carrabosse, sensing the danger and feeling cornered, once again took on her dragon form. It was then that Betto met his end, throwing all of his strength at the demon fey, and giving us a fighting chance. In the end, Kamien landed the killing blow, encompassed in flame and on the verge of consciousness. The day had been won, but at terrible cost. Dornstadt was safe, but the Pale Queen, our true foe, still lived. The war was far from over...
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