Debts owed in Blood, Debts paid in Blood

In a darkened tent shivered a small winged, female figure in the middle of a spell circle. Head swimming from the amounts of magery that had directed into her mind, body, and very SOUL and leaving her an a dazed and almost exhalted, delusional she still managed to be coherent enough to realize . . . she was in mortal danger of losing everything that she had ever been and ever would by her own hands would instead be . . .redone by the hands of another.

She would never again be quiet the same after this, at all. Even if after this she should become a shining beacon of success and power, the basis of "herself" would be due to whatever reworked foundation of her "self" these magic users would remake her into, for good or ill.

They had accused her of things. Crimes. Rapes. Perverted acted against them and the Amazonian Nation.

They had accused the Great Kingdom of vile things. Some of it . . .maybe possible on the outside edge of things but by the main in whole ridiculous and unjust. But be that as it may they BELIEVED whole heartedly and fully, enough to ignore pleading and begging of innocence to the contrary.

What had hurt worst of all during the magical ritual, which had been in turns excruciating painful and inexplicably delightful as the mages had caused her own hands to slowly . . .mold her face and body into new shapes, finally to shrink down to this tiny form she now wore and had collapsed into a heap in the center of this magic circle, had been the betrayal of Fred. . .doing nothing but looking confused and doing nothing to help her. Nothing to help against the guards who’d somehow detected their arrival within the camp. Done nothing to fight against the mage who’d bespelled her and taken her captive.

Fred had done nothing until that bitch Queen herself had arrived and after a whispered conversation with that traitorous apprentice of his, had smiled in relief as she was named . . .Hannah.

”Hannah” gleefully joined with the other Amazons, ready to invade the Great Kingdom despite screams from her to stop.

The little fairy woman she now was had been defeated in her Quest, and now was in the process of being Unmade and Remade, never to be able to even avenge…. To understand . . .

”Why?” she protested softly, as if to ask the Fates or her captors not even she could tell.

”Why not Marigold?” one brunet, female magic user mockingly asked the now blonde female fairy, starting the three step final process to lock away this threat to their Queen once and for all.

The little fairy girl shivers at the sound of that name, knowing that it meant in an eldritch, unknown language known as “English” as “Golden Flower”.

It is a name she knew was for her golden hair and eyes, but was a name she did NOT want for her own for it was being FORCED upon her. Forced upon her with disastrous results for her identity.

She would flee. She would fight. She would rather die than that, but she was too spent and weak and her magic within her new body too new and alien (ironic that she again had access to the Arte) to do so but lay limp at those who’d transformed her very feet.

”No . . .please,” the small fairy whispered, pleading.

Orlagh, she wanted to be known as a Golden Queen from Irish/Celtic/Gaelic myth (?) and not by that OTHER name. She wanted to scream that proper name but she was too . . .disoriented and plane out of it to manage it properly, much to her horror.

”What do you mean Marigold,” cooed another magic using woman, enjoying the little fairy’s dawning horror. “You’ll make such a LOVELY little tender of our Queen’s garden soon en….!”

A strange, alien twanging sound interrupts the fairy’s tormentor, along with a flash of light.

Screams and shouts follow, words about a Planeswalker and a debt owed and being collected are shouted out by both her tormentors and some unknown male’s voice.

All very interesting in other situations, and the transformed fairy girl would be delighted that the spell of Unmaking/Remaking had been disrupted, but right now poor Orlagh is in too much pain as since one of her captors…

Collapsed right on top of her.

A dark haired human (appearing) man had rescued her, for reasons unknown to only but him totally. But mostly as part of one last “hurrah” before settling last affairs and shuffling off old coils.

It had been fun, being the Anti-hero for a while—Rei had been so nice to point out that alternate means to an end, quiet fun if only to see the look on everyone’s face who expected the old villainous schtick-- but even that had grown weary with the filthy metallic horrors, making them scream in agony again and again in defeat.

“Ooowwww,” was the response she gave when a somewhat bemused Master finally got around to finding and freeing her-- a former man and necoromancer named Belboz turned young lass turned young warrior woman turned fairy gir--from being pinned down.

1. “Er . . . .do apologize for being tardy in helping,” he says, sheepishly. "Last minute changes of plans due to fools who thought they knew better but didn't know me at all. I'm . . .afraid you're part of an extreme fallback option, my dear."

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