Rolled 7, 12, 13, 10 = 42 (4d20)
>>5627575This time, it is… Different. The hedge-maze guide you inwards, past near-explicit sculptures. You see carved stone evocative of entangles bodies, topiary eliciting artistic nudes of heroic (and erotic) proportions. When you find the Princess, she is half-clad in a loose, gauzy nightgown—a translucent parody of what she wears in the real world—and fanning herself.
“Ah! Mister, um… Dragonborn, yes?” she asks, laughing nervously. “I… This isn’t the best time?”
You take a step forward, feeling the gentle pressure of Irinnile’s encouragement pushing you forwards.
“Isssn’t it?” you ask.
Ekaterine, Princess foo Hawksong, looks at you in confusion and alarm, but you press on, advancing towards her. The clasps of your tunic come undone, exposing your chest; your armour seems to fall away, except where it strategically will not get in the way of what you intend. Ekaterine’s own gown blows open, exposing hints of soft, supple, pale human flesh to your hungry gaze. The two of you lock eyes only when you can tear your eyes away from each other’s bodies. It is only then that you see the green, spectral hands undoing your garb, caressing your extremities, pressing you together.
“I…” Ekaterine begins, looking up at you in confusion. “I feel… Strange. When did you… How did we… Where ARE we?”
You look down at her—far taller than her even in your natural form—and slowly move your arms around her waits, pulling her to you.
“We are where we are meant to be,” you say, your voice a quiet rumble. “We are together. We have been kept apart too long.”
[DC normally 15, 10 with Irinnile's aid; normally 20 for a cit, currently 17]
