Rolled 18, 11, 16, 16 = 61 (4d20)
>>5618707And then you are once more in the waking world. You are startled for a moment, eyes stunned by the sudden transition from surreal night to the brightness of day… But the stunned status does not last as long as it naturally would, you and this is your first giveaway that you are in a dream. Other hints emerge as you walk through the grounds—areas that are hazy and indistinct exist between those realms with which you are more familiar. You walk the gardens, and find that only some flowers have a scent; for those which do, it is a more vivid and FULLER scent than seems natural, as if the princess’ own attachment to these blooms makes them more real here than even in reality. Statuary and topiary shift and change at times—you look away from an elegant sculpture of a swan to find a hedge trimmed to look like a human dancer. Changes made throughout the years to this small realm which seems so central to Ekaterine’s experiences of the world?
When you find the Human Princess herself, it is by following your ear: the ground are mostly quiet, but eventually you make out a… Well, melody is the wrong word. It is a discordant and clumsy music, coming haltingly over the hedges. You walk them warily, trained warrior’s instincts telling you to be on-guard as you stroll this unfamiliar world alone, but you find no threat—just Ekaterine, princess of Hawksong, wearing a loose blue-purple dress which contrasts well with her emerald eyes and brown-blonde hair, and with a simple necklace of pearls set against her smooth, fair hide.
“Ack,” she exclaims, then growls softly at the string-instruments which she teases and plucks with a strange bow-like implement upon her lap.
The Princess sits upon an elaborately-cushion stool, incongruously surrounded by bookshelves, furnishings, and dioramas better situated to be indoors than out. Before her is a wooden stand, upon which a book is unfolded, filled with strange symbols you do not understand—though, by how intently the woman stares at them while she again runs her odd bow across the musical instrument’s strings, you infer they must convey the intended tune of the music which Ekaterine is presently butchering.
“Gggghhhrrr,” she vocalizes again when the instrument turns from its eerie, squealing song to something more like a vibrating warble and abrupt screech. “The Gods Above have DAMNED me, haven’t they? Cursed me to these stupid lessons that never make me ANY better…”
“Well then, the Godss Above are foolss,” you suggest amicably.
The Princess looks up with a start… And then her eyes widen to veritable saucers, lips parting in a gasp.
“Or perhapsss,” you smoothly segue as you approach her, “the weaklings fear that one of their creationsss, already sso beautiful, would become truly DOMIANNT if she wass alssso a masster of musssic?”
You thought it a rather good line, so it’s rather disappointing when the Princess responds by screaming.
