791: Teleport Formation

Teleport Formation

So compelled by his magical contract, Captain Krysaos slowly ambled towards the final archway.2

Tycondrius grimaced at man's exaggerated exhibition... "Why does he keep looking over his shoulder like that?"

"I think... he's trying to make you feel guilty?" Elle offered.

"That..." Tycon hmphed in amusement, "is not going to happen."

After the gentleman departed, the satyr loosed a tired sigh before plopping down ignobly on his rock. 

"Alright, the rest of ya's, please pick a way. I got shite to do, so I can't really stay."

"Oh, Mister Sa~tyr~" Elle shyly placed her hands behind her back, "Do you... accept bribes?"

"Ellie!" Coraline scolded, hands upon her hips, "This is a NOBLE gentle-satyr of the forest! An honorable and true denizen of the faewyld!"

"So what?" Elle blushed, "Are the fae really that different from us?"

Tycon wanted to answer 'yes'-- but the satyr's wild, indignant swaying took precedence. 

"You questionin' my integrity?" He raised his voice, "My morals or lack thereof?"

Coraline turned her nose up towards Elle, a perfect picture of Elven haughtiness. 

"--'cuz o' COURSE I do, babe! You guys got any tobbaco-v?"

...and just as quickly, Coraline's spirits were crushed. 

She grabbed the satyr by the shoulders and began to shake him violently, "Really? HUH?! TOBACCO'V!?? Is that the best you GOT?!"

"Whoa, whoa~" The satyr's eyes widened in shock, "No need ta get violent!"

"Okay, listen up, bucko," Coraline glared. "You're the first fae my bestie has ever met... and. you're. *ruining* this."

"H-hey there, little Miss Elfie," The satyr chuckled nervously, "Let's just... all calm down..."

"I don't hear any *rhyming*. Mister. Satyr," Coraline seethed. 

"N-nothing rhymes with elfi--eeEAAARGH!!" 

The satyr yelped in pain as the tiny elf's fingers dug into his flesh. 

...Further, by the fact that Tycon could taste burnt fur in the air, Coraline was activating her fire magic-- intentional or not. 

Elle glanced over with a face of concern, "Tychon, do something."

"...Hm? Oh," Tycon cleared his throat. "Friend-satyr, I shall offer you salvation from one angry elf and a pack of four pre-rolled cigars in exchange for a promise of reasonable assistance."

...

Making deals with fae was... unwise. 

Like all creatures belonging to Ancient bloodlines, they were unable to lie. However, their ways of thinking were... irrational by regular standards. By extension, so too were their promises. 

Tycon gifted Qiv with tobacco-- which he very specifically stated was a gift of a single cigar from him and his three female companions

In exchange... 

...it could be as useful as the secrets to the archways, as Elle was hoping for. 

It could also be as relatively useless as a large leaf, for use as protection from the sun. 

Tycon would eventually receive... something that the satyr deemed of equivalent value to his gift. 

In the case of himself and Elle, that 'something' would likely be well-meaning. 

--or at the very least, it shouldn't be malicious. That was the true goal of Tycon's gift-giving. 

Mister Qiv revealed that he was in a hurry because he was expecting female company for lunch. 

Lunch sounded lovely. 

The young woman was a shapely water nymph whose name Tycon found difficult to pronounce. In Aquan, it translated to something like... 'Noisy Brook.' 

Tycondrius, Elle, Coraline, and Beatrice shared their rations with their forest friends to make a veritable feast. One one side, there were preserved fruits and meats from Whitehearth, along with Tycon's re-hydrated soup. Miss Brook had brought a collection of fish to roast, water-chilled fresh berries, and strong wine. 

The females spent nearly an entire bell conversing about nothing of major importance. In the meantime, Tycon and Qiv spent their time smiling politely at each other in silence. 

Unfortunately, their peaceful times were interrupted by one of said females-- a woman true to her namesake. 

"(Honey bear,)" Noisy-Brook bubbled. "(Why don'tcha tell these nice people about the formation?)"

"Oh, c'mon, babe!" Qiv groaned. "The Tree God'll have my hide if I told 'em too much!"

"(Qiv, daughter of Qeb, daughter of Qulea, you've accepted their gifts! Don't think I can't smell it!)" Went the angry bubbling, "(You have to do 'em right!)"

"No, it's fine," Tycon waved his hand. "I wouldn't want to get Mister Qiv in trouble."

"(Oh, it's no trouble at all, Mister Snake!)" 

The water nymph... smiled? It was difficult to tell. Noisy-Brook had a human-like body, but her translucent face resembled that of a wide-mouthed river fish. 

"Alright, sure, sure," Qiv sighed. "Women, Tycon. You get me, right?"

"I do not," Tycon smiled. 

"He does," Coraline laughed. "If Ellie tells Sir Tychon to jump, he won't come down until she says it's okay."

Elle rolled her eyes, "And that's because he trusts me not to tell him to do something stupid just to prove a point... oh, could you pass me the wine, dear?"

Tycon shared a beleaguered look with the satyr before refilling his lover's cup, "Of course..."

Though reluctant, Qiv explained what he knew about the Tree God's twelve-point formation... which verified Tycon's earlier suspicions. 

The archways acted as short-range teleportation gates-- that much was obvious. They were permissible under the Gatekeeper's Laws as the destinations were fixed and utilized passage through the faewyld to achieve the effect. 

He did not identify the formation upon first observation due to two factors. The first was the unrelated thirteenth archway. The second was that the remaining twelve arches were largely unnecessary. 

In truth, the formation array had but two activation paths. Krysaos' trap path was one. The other was a variable teleport-- the numerous archways only offering the illusion of choice. 

The teleportation gate took travelers to a destination based on a set of predetermined rules. The details, Mister Qiv did not know with certainty. 

As none of the four could offer a viable alternative, they chose to brave the formation as intended... allowing each of them to be whisked away to wherever the spell took them. 

...Tycon dearly hoped that his companions would remain safe. 

He absolutely did not want a reason to kill the Tree God. 

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