What would I could but give words of sympathy!

What happened to me?! the green haired being named who'd been named Fred, hears within her mind...

The nymph who'd been named Hannah was suffering from a form of amnesia brought on by several massive magical spells having hitting her almost all at once. After all, forced transformation and teleportation coupled with the magical things that had been forced down into her wasn't anything to sneeze at. Whether she will/could recover? That had to happen here soon . . . or never. As it is....she's in luck!

Hello? the green haired nymph (who had finally managed to decide on the name of Tithorea despite the distractions the dancing caused her) attempted, not sure if she's imagining things. After so long after being able to do nothing but dance, only able to watch through half closed eyes (and feeling increasingly . . . energized), this was something new.

New didn't necessarily mean "good", but still!

A slight start, a jerk of the head in surprise from the dancing nymph across from her tells her she's on the right track. Good, considering she was going at this blind.

By now, she'd pretty much accepted that she was a she . . . . and as perverse as it sound she rather liked the change. So much more . . . graceful and nice looking....

She mentally shakes herself, concentrating.

I'm not sure . . . but I believe you're the newest part of our bastard host's menagerie, Tithorea explains, feeling a stab of anger at the one known as Stryke. Do not know why or how, but at a guess I'd say your his newest Dancer?

The Three Strykes? the little nymph asks, something swimming up from her memories and surfaces. I'm now one of the Dancers?

Then the dam was released, and she remembered all! Who she was . . . or rather who she had been. No, no memories of her time before Hannah. Rather, the nymph knew that she'd been named Hannah. She was still rightfully female, but she no longer was human but would forevermore be a nymph. Some new name should be hers . . . . but what would suit her? If only she could just stop this . . . .wonderful dancing!

It was so . . . distracting.

Part of her heart rejoiced at the transformation while another part was rather . . . upset. Best describe it as being of two minds (or hearts) on the matter, okay?

The little nymph then frowns (at least mentally, her face was fixed in look of adulation and ecstasy), seeing how utterly lame the last part sounded.

With you I guess we're the "Four Strykes" now, the green haired nymph quips.

At another time, the nymph who'd been named Hannah might have taken offense, but for some reason . . . she rather liked that. She found herself feeling . . . . warm towards this other nature spirit. Sisterly.

True, the short nymph agrees, smiling for the first time (mentally) having come here. So, sister, do you have any idea why Stryke's abducted us? When I was . . . back home I and my uncle had no real clues and we'd been busy with . . . . other things.

She'd rather been more involved in mystical studies to care about the outside like that. Now that she'd actually met one of Stryke's victims (as well as BEING one), she kind of . . . felt small now.

If only....

Promising to herself that if nothing else, if she could, she'd make sure to rescue her sister. That is what she viewed the other as . . . as well as some kind of kinship with the other dancers she . . . finds she cannot connect with mentally. It appeared this telepathy only worked between nature spirits. Regretful, but true. Before, as a sorceress she'd been able to connect with any living sentient being with nary an effort, but not now as a nymph. Not . . . that being a nymph was totally dis-disagreeable....

Let's start over here before continuing, she begins. Sister, what is your name? Uh, I . . . hope you don't mind me calling you.....?

Sister? Tithorea echoes, rolling it around in her mind, liking it. I as well . . . feel kinship like that towards you, fellow spirit. Sisters we shall be! I now call myself Tithorea, sister. What should I call you?

Well . . . . that’s problematic, the little nymph sighs. My birth name is Hannah, but that was when I was . . . human.

Really? Tithorea blinks. You too were something else? How odd.

Glancing as best she could out of the corner of her eye at the other dancers, she now has to wonder if THEY as well had worn different shapes than now. What was their story. While we are on that, why did she feel a kinship for them as well?

Intrigued, each nymph shares their tales. Good and well, up until the name Belboz came up in her tale. The green haired nymph’s tale hadn’t mentioned the mage’s name who’d changed the male knight into this dancing beauty before her, she’d only called him some of the vilest terms she had in her volcabulary. Words which would be very odd coming out of the mouth of such a pretty little package, but....

Praxithea (a name bestowed onto the little nymph and gladly accepted by the curvous little dancer) winces at the thundering voice within her head.

1. Belboz is your UNCLE?! Tithorea shouts, unable to believe that this was possible. Your uncle? Then maybe you can tell me just why in the Hell he transformed me and teleported me away in order to save the Dragon, why don’t you!?

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