(*mood music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awFy4h6XMrQ *)
We spoke last in dizzying refrains, heady moments of blood loss amidst the frosted woods where you crept.
Were those moments reality? Shattered little flakes of ice, scattered about on a purple linen sheet, revealing fractals, patterns, rainbow-like in their splintering. You beheld The Woods, in all of its glory, and you were stripped bare by it, rendered down to your desires we saw each of them, you could not hide from our baleful witness.
That desire remains, doesn't it? You want to be a HERO it echoed like the pounding in your head, the iron in your blood recoiling, do you feel it? do you feel it?. You wanted it so badly, when we plucked you from that hollow, crying and clutching close a doll, having eaten some mushrooms that you most assuredly shouldn't have. You wanted to kill them all, every single last one of them KILL THEM KILL THEM, as the smoke and fires danced from the pitiful collection of huts you called home. No brave knights were riding to save you then not now not ever.
So! We gave you what you sought blood, vivid, violent, rich, redolent. You're a hero now. The bravest knight in all of Faerie, all of Faerun!
There isn't a foe you won't face! Not a quest you won't undertake! Not a maiden or prince, besotted and besotted, you won't save. And in your wake, you will leave desolation, death, destruction.
After all, isn't that what heroes do? it's exactly what heroes do
Rise from your knees knees knees knees, Dame-Errant Laevisi of the Autumnal Fringe. It would be unbecoming of a Questing Knight to be seen in such a pitiful state.