Come Hell or High Moon . . .

The spell is cast - successfully so far as he can tell.

Time will tell if Synizn is correct. In the meantime, he knows that he must hurry. Though he has three hours, that does NOT mean he has time to dally. On further reflection he realizes not just any kind of midwife will do here! If Synizn can find one, a demifox midwife would be better than a human one. An alternative could be a veterinarian. .

Nodding to himself, he idly rehearses what he shall have to say to coax said demifox midwife into serving his needs and pauses at, in reflection, is a rather obvious hurtle. The midwife may point out to him that Astra won't be able to "push" whilst she's unconscious, so she might need to be conscious to actually give birth.

"But if I can cast spells that can make that last would be dragon slayer who came against me dance and sing before I turned him loose," he chuckles to himself. "Then causing the right set of muscles to push during delivery should be child's play!"

The chuckle is only half hearted, as if trying to only convince himself of the last. After all, that assumption borders ridiculously close to the idea of him being able to handle Astra's cub's (kits . . . whatever!) birthing alone!

Though, the flack he would get from any willing demifox midwife for doing it this way instead of waking Astra so that it could be done naturally by the female was . . . galling to the werebear mage. Pride and stubbornness, having been accentuated to unhealthy degrees by the lycanthropic curse he found himself under, strikes yet again.

In a way, it is fortunate that the demifoxes reached and found Synizn when they had. One more session of full moon madness and nothing (not even the death of dear depart friends and confidants like Malachi) could have broken through the shell of isolation and hatred the lycanthropy was engendering within Synizn's heart. One more night of the full moons sway and . . . he wouldn't have even listened to their pleas.

As it stands right now, while he'd been able to win back enough of himself from the curse to aid the demifoxes in need, he's still too much under the sway of it to make . . . totally rational decisions. Oh, he's not insane, really, but let us just say that he's got a raging case of . . . ego. All due to the lycanthropy he's cursed with (as what the curse's creator had designed it)....

Long story the last which involves an ancient civil war and who's fallout is still being felt even today (by those like Synizn and others). That's not important right now.

What is important is the fact that . . . .

"By Tiamat's blood," Synizn swears to himself. "At least the veterinarian will be the best bet in not insisting in asking stupid questions about strange requests."

That and making ridiculous demands about how to deliver cubs! he growls to himself. At least the vets around here are used to, for the right fee, keeping their mouths shut in dealing with all the exotic and illegal livestock that comes through this blasted shadow town!!

At least the vet he had in mind was fastidious enough in his dealings with animals. The old chap knew well enough that even though the patient might not be human enough, their were diseases out there (mundane and otherwise) that wouldn't mind jumping to a human host and infecting him! Good, being that Synizn did NOT want to be obliged in curing the veterinarian of demifox lycanthropy due to something like afterbirth fluids getting into a cut or scrap... Frankly, he was going to have a hard enough time using the Crystallic upon himself. He . . . felt he didn't have much time left and was . . . . desperate. Only obligations to old friend's dieing requests (and wanting to make sure that the Crystallic actually worked as he wished), had prevented him from releasing himself.

1. "But first let us get that blasted vet," he mutters to himself. "And hopefully I run into that d*mn demifox male somewhere out there along the way."

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