“A fully immersive experience guaranteed! Step right up! Only 1000 Solars a head to visit a world unlike any other!”

The call comes from a tall individual dressed in a long black cloak. Nothing to write home about given dark color cloaks are extremely commonplace throughout the Ash Lands, yet this man somehow caught the attention of a small crowd of onlookers who stand idly around his covered wagon with curious interest in whatever it was he was trying to sell.

Perhaps it was because under his cloak which could be seen in brief glimpses as he sweeps his arms dramatically he was dressed so flamboyantly that they would make a carnival fool or court jester jealous. Or perhaps it was the mystery of their identity carefully crafted by the combination of a carnival mask decorated with colorful sequins and feathers obscuring the top half of his face and the straight sided top hat on their head.

This gent knew how to dress, and the pops of glimmering color in his outfit stood out well against the muted colors of the ash dusted streets of Darkveil. It also didn't hurt that his wagon was decorated in colorful lanterns which were like a beacon cutting through the city's perpetual gloomy atmosphere. 

He waves his cane in the air to gather the attention of those around him.

“Come now, do not be shy. This is a once in a life-time opportunity.”

One individual’s voice speaks up from the crowd. “Seems like a scam to me, that’s a lot of money for some hokey magic trick.”

“You wound me, good sir. My prices are beyond fair for what I am offering. I am but a humble artist wishing to share my creativity with the world. If you cannot afford to appreciate my craft, then please stand aside.” He waves the critic off dismissively.

The man huffs and leaves the crowd, though it seems that whatever is actually being peddled isn’t quite getting the reception this individual may have hoped for. Darkveil’s citizens were hard to sell on anything given how often they interact with scumbags and scam artists.

Standing further back from the lit wagon and the enigmatic performer was a less obvious observer. Zarius was leaned against the corner of a wall with his arms crossed and his presence masked with a veil of invisibility.^[1] His wait twitches behind him as he watches the scene before him.

He’d gotten a tip that one of his family’s storehouses had been ransacked, but the only thing stolen was a so-called magical painting that was enchanted to allow people to enter it. The story was that the original artist got lost within it years ago and never emerged, so the painting got passed around from person to person for a while. Everyone was too scared to test to see if its magic was real or not given the risk of being trapped forever like the original artist.

It wasn’t often that someone actually got away with stealing something from his family, and it was even less often that someone would stay in town while peddling the very thing they stole. This asshole had a lot of gall if it turns out the painting he does have is the one that was stolen.

The temptation to just walk up and punch the asshole’s lights out was too real, but given this supposed thief found the hidden warehouse, snuck past his father’s guard, broke into a vault with an encrypted lock, and escaped without any trace likely getting away with their crime if they weren’t doing…well, this. All that took a lot of skill especially in Darkveil of all places. A direct approach may actually be a bad play, or it was also possible that this performance was meant to lure him out into the open.

He needed to know more before doing anything rash. For now, he would just observe.

---

SPOILER: Click to show

Description: An ambitious painter in Darkveil has created a magical painting that allows viewers to enter the work of art. However the spell has malfunctioned, causing the artist to become trapped inside their own painting. They now need help, someone to go in, encounter the obstacles that have now come to life and save the painter from their own spell. The details and story of the painting can be entirely up to you. Have creative freedom with the story of this quest.

[1] Invisibility

“Where in the world is everybody?”

Despite the fact that Zeinav and the Ash Lands were politically close, Morrigan rarely had the chance to visit their sister country. Perhaps one might consider it a missed opportunity - the charlatan might find themselves right at home in this den of thieves, and flourish under the rampant streak of organized crime. But it was hard for a glamorous fish to thrive in such a big pond. No, Morrigan Moonweaver was cognizant of their own strengths and weaknesses, and they knew they flourished in an oasis where they didn’t have to deal with the competition of other, less shiny fish. But recently, their work for the Mage’s Guild and their hunt for the phoenix of Yudraehati Temple at the base of Mount Drakolt had brought them up to this gloomy, ash-filled country.

It had been a few days since their exploration of the temple with the shaman Shitakibo - a few confusing days. It was no stretch to say that Morrigan had been thoroughly rattled by the day’s events, so much so that even their new avian companion - who had affectionately been named Nugget - was unable to help them through this slump. Everything was topsy-turvy, especially their confidence in their job as a scam artist. What they really needed was a good trip out to the Darkveil marketplace and con a couple of suckers out of their coin in exchange for snake oil. They didn’t even have to deal with this stupid moral dilemma of feelings and guilt, because everyone here was a criminal anyways! Morrigan would just be scamming scammers!

At least, that was the plan. But when Morrigan drove their wagon down the ash-strewn land, they were surprised to find that there really weren’t that many people on the streets.

Thoroughly confused, Morrigan pushed the Wagon of Wonders further into the metropolis - a few passerby glanced up at the sound of wagon-wheels crunching on the ground, but not many gave the colorful vehicle a second glance like Morrigan expected. As if the bright cloths, bells and whistles, and the dreamcatchers of all shapes and sizes hanging along the wagon weren’t all that new or exciting to them. They continued about their day, paying the sparkly fellblood no mind.

“What the…?”

This was ridiculous! Morrigan had carefully crafted their personage and transportation to be as loud and eye-catching as possible. Whether they were regarded with admiration or irritation, at least all eyes were on them! Morrigan wasn’t used to this - this… indifference! Morrigan brought their wagon to a halt, poking their head into the back of the wagon where the rest of their entourage resided. Ceres Celestia was napping on a large pillow in the corner, and Mariposa was strumming another song on her lute.

“Oi, is there some sort of event going on today that I’m not cognizant of?”

The reptilekin minstrel looked up from her song, raising her eyebrows. “Not that I’m aware of, why?”

The fellblood puffed their cheeks out in a petulant pout as they propped their elbow up on the driver’s seat of the wagon. A bit of glitter flew from their sleeve and fluttered half heartedly to the floor, as if even this little flourish was disheartened by the lack of clientele. “There’s no one here! What does a humble alchemist have to do to find a couple of customers with coin in their pocket to burn and a desperate need for placebo potion?”

“… Everyone sane has probably fled the country right now given the rise in earthquakes.” She pointed out.

“Not helpful.”

“Good. I’m not trying to be.”

Morrigan huffed once more and turned around to grab the reins and set out through the town once more. Their pace was slow, more inquisitive than anything as they scanned the area for any possible customers. That was when they noticed the makings of a crowd around the corner.

Morrigan stopped, pulling themselves out of their wagon to get a better look at the people surrounding a bright, lantern covered wagon - and more importantly, the elaborately dressed gentleman garnering the peoples’ attention.

“Now what in the fresh hell is this?”

Who was this circus clown coming in here and stealing Morrigan’s schtick? And why did they look so good doing it? The cape, the harlequin mask… the audacity of this man to steal their aesthetic and use it to do exactly what Morrigan did but better? From here they couldn’t make out much, but they thought they heard something about a painting. The crowd didn’t seem to be buying it.

Morrigan snickered to themselves at this fool’s miserable fortune. Well, one man’s trash was another man’s treasure - if the crowd wasn’t liking what he was selling, then they’d be all too agreeable to find someone else to buy from. Enter: Morrigan Moonweaver, stage right, with a scam at affordable prices! Oh, yes, it was perfect. And the best thing was that Morrigan themselves didn’t even have to do much! Cackling to themselves, Morrigan reached into their bag and pulled out a small fuzzy object that they smacked on their face before twirling it with a devilish grin growing on their face.^[1]

With a goblin-like cackle they pulled themselves into the wagon with renewed vigor, snapping at the reins to urge the horse onwards. Sparkle Blossom took off with a burst of speed as Morrigan urged the wagon around the corner, speeding right through the empty part of the crowd. The space where an unsuspecting, invisible fellblood might get trampled if they didn’t get out of the way of the vehicle that suddenly appeared out of nowhere at breakneck speeds.

The crowd, who’d previously been watching the paint salesman, whirled around at the sudden sound at the same time that Morrigan pulled the wagon to a halt. In a burst of glitter and smoke, Morrigan jumped out of the vehicle, twirling their brocade like a wizard’s cape.

“Ladies and gentlemen and all things in between, step right up to experience a world like no other, courtesy of the wizard of the wastes! And all for the affordable price of ten solars a piece!” They added with a wink.

Oh, yes. This would definitely sting.

---

1. Mustache of Deceit

Bringing Minions
Mariposa (Warlord II)
Bubbles (Warlord I)

Bringing Pets
Sparkle Blossom (Mount - counts against NPC pet cap)
Nugget (Phoenix, Beastmaster III - Counts against pet cap)
Pink Lady (Crab Apple - Doesnt Count against pet cap)
Clawdius (Gargoyle Rook - Doesnt count against pet cap)

Izzy was always a fan of fresh hells, as she seemed to be spawn of that particular variety. Probably, anyway. Darkveil was its own special kind of fresh hell, literally and figuratively. This was a great place to get information or find people who wanted to disappear, but not disappear enough so as not to enjoy the comforts of modern society. Such as it was; given the rash of upheavals and earthquakes, spewing forth magma and hot ash and wreaking chaos and destruction over much of Charon, Darkveil itself could hardly compare to Zeinav or even the settlements in Dragon's Cradle, given how much repair was still needed. Regardless, it was as much a lively place as Izzy remembered. It wasn't terribly often she came up this way, but it was worth making the trip.

She had been invited, after all.

Now, The Dame, Good ol' Cinder Prince, had advised her that the Rookery was based in a clocktower. One might think that such an object would be visible in the skyline. But, either Zarius had been pulling her chain, so to speak, oorrrr it had gotten destroyed in the violent sundering of the earth under their feet. Honestly, it was probably the latter. The former didn't seem Zarius' style. Besides, she was pretty sure that he knew that she could find him if she reaaaaally wanted to.

Makin' her way downtown, walking fast and looking at the faces as she passes, she hears the siren song of Things Happening. Gnawing on a kebab of questionable origin, Izzy drifts in that direction, towards the sights, the sounds, the glits, the glitter--

Glitter?

A lot of things happened very quickly. A man was shouting about a one of a kind experience, a painting of a sort (intriguing). And then, a familiar face barrelled past on a carriage, heedless to public concern and safety. She would recognize that carriage anywhere. Oh! What a day! What a lovely day! Her bestie, Morrigan Moonweaver was in town, and they were having a confidence artist fight with the local flim-flam man!

She stands back to watch, for the moment, awaiting the artist's rebuttal, as she chmps aggressively on her kebab. Could this day get any better?

Zarius' ear twitches as he hears the sound of wagon wheels rushing up behind him. He glances back to see Sparkle Blossom charging towards him and the glitzy carriage bouncing across the cobblestone behind it. 

Shit!

The fellblood steps aside to avoid being run over by the charging mount, but the thing about wagons is that they are decidedly wider than the beasts that pull them. 

There’s a terrible shriek from Zarius as his tail is caught under the first wagon wheel as the cart pulls past. His invisibility breaks, revealing his presence to all in the immediate area. He just barely manages to pull his tail clear of the second wheel before the wagon comes to a stop near the crowd of confused civilians.

He blinks back the tears of pain threatening to spill over form the corner of his eyes before looking at the runaway wagon. Oh, but it wasn't a runaway. That would have been forgivable. Instead Zarius sees a shower of glitter and a burst of smoke followed by the sight of an unpleasantly familiar face. 

Morrigan fucking Moonweaver.

That bitch, he'll wring their scrawny neck for that. 

The man leans on his cane, watching the whole altercation with a smirk on his face. He doesn't even seem to mind that the crowd's attention definitely had been captured by Morrigan's loud entrance. In fact, he is more than content to watch the charlatan attempt to grift his business before someone decides to knock his lights out. Which, judging by who just appeared out of the shadows, likely would happen sooner than later. 

Zarius storms up to Morrigan, a few locals recognizing him and moving clear out of his way to avoid his wrath. It wasn't often that the cool and collected fellblood lost his temper, but the pain shooting through his tail was enough to set him over the edge. 

The fellblood grabs the front of Morrigan's shirt and nearly yanks them off their feet. 

"Morrigan Moonweaver, I have half a mind to drag you into a back alley, beat the living shit out of you and send you back to the Oasis with your tail tucked between your scrawny legs."

Some of the rougher looking folks in the crowd snicker and start whispering about side bets as the situation looks like it might break out into a public brawl. Zarius pays them no mind, focus locked on the infuriating sight of Morrigan's infuriating face. 

The crowd seemed lukewarm, but intrigued at the prospect of a newcomer peddling something cheaper than a painting that most certainly was not worth one thousand solars. A few of them turned away from the so-called artist (ha! Artist… the only kind of artist this guy could ever be called was a scam artist, and even that was a stretch considering how bad he was at it) to face the sparkly fellblood, partly in annoyance of their sudden intrusion, and partly in intrigue regarding what the Zeinavian snake oil salesman could possibly have for sale.

Either way, Morrigan had a somewhat attentive audience. That was more than enough for them to start peddling their wares - Morrigan ushered the group forward, bound and determined to outshine that hack pretender and utterly charm the crowd. “That’s right, don’t be shy! Come and peruse my wares and elixirs, brought to you all from your sister country across the sand dunes!”

The crowd was starting to stir, watching Morrigan with wide eyes that they foolishly mistook for awe and admiration. They had yet to notice the enraged fellblood sneaking up behind them, the man that the crowd had recognized and were now watching this encounter like one might engage in spectating bloodsport. Those who had an idea of who Zarius was knew this was about to get nasty, and they couldn’t wait to watch this overconfident twink get ripped to shreds.

Morrigan, who was still blissfully ignorant to their impending doom, started pulling out snake oil from their bag with gusto. “I’ve got remedies for any malady you might face! Have your eyes started spontaneously bleeding after being exposed to the harmful magics contained in enchanted paintings? Look no further than Morrigan Moonweaver’s miracle cure-all! Are you a plucky young adventurer seeking protection from the threats you might face? I’ve got just the potion to protect you from all - HARM!” Morrigan squeaked as they were suddenly yanked upright by a forceful arm, so strong that they were practically dangling in the air as someone held them upright.

The great not-wizard flinched, immediately moving to protect their beautiful face first and foremost before they noticed the familiar, charcoal-skinned fellblood that held their shirt in a death grip.

To put it eloquently; Morrigan was fucked.

What the hell was he going on about now? Morrigan hadn’t done anything to him, much less anything worth this reaction. Hell, the last time Morrigan had seen Zarius was at Kvasir’s dinner party, where they’d had to play nice with him and his pale boyfriend for Kvasir’s sake. But the medic was nowhere to be found now, which meant that there was no one to protect Morrigan from Zarius’s wrath, and those fists looked like they packed a wallop.

Which meant the only natural thing for Morrigan to do was make the situation even worse.

They forced an innocent smile on their face, holding their hands in the air as if to say, who, me? “Why, Master Zarius, we’ve got to stop meeting like this! The last time we ran into one another, you accosted me in such a similar way while entirely unprovoked! If you weren’t a taken man I might be inclined to believe you’ve got a crush on me.” They sing-songed, their tail flicking behind them, ready to whack Zarius if things went south here.

Oh, yeah. They were definitely about to get punched, but it was so worth it.

Evidently the day COULD and did get better, very rapidly and all at once.

Izzy stands in abject awe over the unlikely visions before her; Zarius, The Cinder Prince™, yelping and clutching his tail while Morrigan sets up shop to combat the "artist" across the way. What a surprise to see him here, she hadn't seen him at first!

And it was far too late to hide now.

Moreover, it seemed Zarius was WELL acquainted with Morrigan as well! Her friends were friends! What fun! Chucking the kebab stick into a litter basket, she strides over to the pair, while Morrigan is in the midst of digging their own grave and Zarius considers the best methods of throttling the purple fellblood.

"As I live and breathe! The Dame™ and my dear Champion in the same place!" Izzy crows, sweeping them both up in a tight hug and lifting the pair off their feet before too much harm could be done between them. They were both so wonderfully short, so easy to lift and crush with her enthusiastic friendship. As she squeezes, a plume of glitter erupts from somewhere in Morrigan's jacket, showering the three of them in sparkles; Izzy does not seem to mind in the least. "Bestiiiies! Fancy seeing the both of you here at the same time, if I'd known you'd both be in town, I would have arranged for brunch!" Though where one got good mimosas in Darkveil was beyond her. Perhaps Zarius' place? She was sure Momo would be MOST welcome. "What are the odds!"

The odds were not that unlikely all things considered, but the three colourful, intense fellbloods certainly made for a spectacle. One Izzy herself didn't mind in the least. After all, her besties were besties!! What could possibly be wrong about that?

Still hugging Zarius and Morrigan as a child might hold onto two dangling cats at various levels of patience, Izzy turns to regard the "artist" for a moment of further consideration- -the painting was a little interesting to her eye, for no reason other it seemed pretty-- but in the clamor, for those precious few seconds, all eyes seem to be on the fellbloods. Izzy looks down at Morrigan with a grin. "Looove the mustache, it's very fetching. How do you two know eachother?" she beams down at them, sharp teeth shown clearly in her smile.

"You really should not put the idea of crushing into someone's head when their hands are inches from your spindly neck," Zarius hisses, a sinister sneer spreads across his face. It was pretty clear that he is not amused by Morrigan's attempts to deflect his anger. 

A familiar voice interjects in their confrontation and Zarius glances to the side just in time to see Issala's approach. 

Oh Gods. Why her? Why now?

Issala stood out like a lighthouse in the fog. She practically gleamed with her brilliantly white skin and fiery red hair contrasting with the dirty greys of their surroundings. Not to mention she loomed over every single person in the square with her staggering height. 

He doesn't get the chance to respond to Issala's appearance before the towering white fellblood scoops him and Morrigan up into her arms. Fortunately for Morrigan, this pins the brawler's arms so he can't wind up a solid hit. Unfortunately for them both, this puts them far too close to one another's face. 

Zarius is about to protest the awkward position Issala has put him in when the glitter bomb in Morrigan's shirt explodes in spectacular fashion right into his face. If Zarius was mad before, he is absolutely brimming with fury now as some of the crowd around them snicker at the ridiculous sight. 

He blows the dusting of glitter out of his face and back into Morrigan's. It had taken ages to get rid of all the glitter from their last encounter, a wasted effort evidently. 

"Miss Issala, your timing never fails to amaze me."

It wasn't a compliment. Her untimely appearance only complicates an already complicated situation. He couldn't even explain to either eccentric fellbloods that they had completely botched his attempts to be discrete around the grifter who supposedly stole from his family. 

This whole situation was less than ideal.

"Miss Issala, if it is not too much trouble could you please put me down."

It took all of his self control not to lash out at the woman. While Issala regarded him as a "bestie", he still would not put it past the woman to use the dirt she had on him to her advantage if he got on her bad side. As much as he wants to beat the ever living shit out of Morrigan, seeing that the investigator was friends with him meant he had to play nice again.

Damn.

The "artist" continues to observe the situation, fingers tapping on the end of his cane in contemplation. When Issala glances his way, he gives her a friendly smile and a wink before standing back up to his full height and stepping back towards the painting. The masked individual didn't seem to mind that all attention had been dragged away from his sales pitch. In fact, he seemed more than pleased with it.

A vein practically burst in Zarius’s forehead as he uttered the promised threat of snapping Morrigan’s neck and the charlatan figured they’d really stepped in it now. Was he really so crazy that he would murder someone in broad daylight just because they teased him a little? Morrigan wriggled in his grip, a worm futilely attempting to resist its own demise, when their savior arrived in the world of probably the most batshit insane and positively wonderful fellblood Morrigan had ever met in their life.

Oh thank Ginma, Izzy’s here.

“Issala Izzy Arodre, as I live and breathe!” Morrigan called out, drawling out her full name in conjunction with her nickname, just to be especially annoying as they often were. Just as they squeaked the words out, Izzy wrapped them both in a hug that threatened to snap the lavender fellblood’s fragile little bones in twain. The sheer force from her squeeze crushed Morrigan’s lungs and popped some of their glitter reserves, coating the three in a bright sparkly substance. Externally, they were catching their breath, now held so close to Zarius that they were now nose to nose, but internally, Morrigan was celebrating her appearance. If she knew the both of them, that meant Zarius would have to play nice to maintain his image as a polite businessman!

Feeling emboldened now that they had effectively been saved from being on the receiving end of a fist to a face, Morrigan decided to stir the pot a little more. They wriggled their arm out from Izzy’s grip with a grace that spoke of contortionist’s training, and a shit-eating grin that spoke of a clown’s.^[1] As Zarius stewed over being held, Morrigan reached up and drew a little heart on his cheek with their finger.

Then they blew him a kiss.

“I know it’s intimidating to be in such close proximity when you have a clear view of my good looks, but do try to think of your lover, Dame Zarius.”

Oh, they might’ve just signed their death warrant with this one, Izzy’s protection aside.


But it was soooooooooo worth it.

Morrigan then drew a matching heart on Izzy’s cheek, flashing her a charming grin, their previous plans of screwing over that other conman completely forgotten, as was their wont to follow their whims. “Brunch sounds heavenly, Issala-Izzy-Arodre.” They said, still squished face to face with Zarius, briefly flashing them the stink eye. “As for how we know one another… we have a mutual acquaintance. I wasn’t aware that you two had struck up a friendship, though. How in the world did that happen?”

---

1. Disjoint Tattoo

"I know! My timing is the best~." Izzy preens, grinning down at her two captives friends as she embraced them in her arms with no hope of escape. "It's like fate decided to see us all here today! What luck!" If she had noticed that Zarius' compliment was, in fact, no compliment at all, but a complaint, she did not appear to pay it mind.

Hearing his polite request, however, Izzy was happy to acquiesce to. "Of course, I'll just--" she started, fully about to set Zarius down as he had requested, because she was not an idiot. Buuuut... seeing Morrigan make things worse, as they were wont to do, and looking at the incensed look on Zarius' face, perhaps putting these two down together within striking distance of one another was not the best of ideas. Especially not with that weirdo behind them stroking his chin all thoughtful-like. Psssht. Artist types.

"Right yeah of course, of course," she loosens her grip on Zarius so he could slip elegantly to the ground and land on his feet, while with Izzy's other arm, she continued to hug Morrigan, allowing them access to her shoulder so as to evade getting clocked (moreso anyway) thanks to Izzy's sheer height-- something she kept up by leaving her arm on Zarius' shoulder, also keeping them in place. She didn't seem to mind the attention of the crowd, all snickering and eyeing the situation and trying to decide if it was a performance or not. While she oes this, she grins up at Morrigan. "Oh who, me and The Dame here? We're bosom buddies, we have regular sleepoveeers, I'm on a first name basis with his parents, you know how it goes." A beat passes. "Or we met by chance on the street one day and we've done some work together, wink wink, and who could resist my winning personality, I mean come on."

"Soooo...." She looks down to Zarius, grinning wide, "What's say we all get ourselves out of the street and off to some brunch, eh? You buyin'? And what's this about a lover...?" Izzy's eyes gleam with interest, smouldering coals held within her skull as she exchanges broad grins with Morrigan.

Morrigan really did not know when to focus on saving their own skin. Just cause Zarius' arms were pinned to his sides did not mean he could not break the purple fellblood's nose by ramming his forehead into it. The temptation is all too real, but Zarius manages to keep his cool despite the scammer's comments and invasion of his personal space. 

As Izzy loosens her grip, Zarius does drop to the ground and lands on his feet easily enough. He dusts the glitter off of himself, though it's ultimately a fruitless effort to rid himself of the clinging particulates. He shoots Morrigan a glower as he straightens out his coat, but that look quickly shifts to Issala as she overstates just how close they are. 

Gods. These two could not be a worse combination. 

"I am afraid I will have to pass on brunch, but you are more than welcome to go on ahead and take Mister Moonweaver with you." Maybe then he could get back to work. 

He glances over his shoulder back towards the thief who he could still make out past the crowd that was rubbernecking around them. It takes him a moment and a double take, but then he notices something amiss.

The painting. It's gone.

Next to the thief is just an empty space where the painting had been propped only moments before. When had he moved it? The man is too tall to have snuck it away without them noticing even with the distraction from Issala and Morrigan. 

Something was wrong, and the hairs on the back of Zarius' neck stand on end as his eyes meet the thief's. A sly grin spreads across their face under the mask as they give a little wave of their hand. A gesture that looks innocent enough, until the crackle of magic ripples through the air above the trio of fellbloods' heads. 

They don't have a chance to react. How could they? Who would have expected the painting to suddenly drop from thin air directly above them with its painted surface facing down towards them. Maybe if Issala didn't still have a grip on Zarius' shoulder, he would have been able to dodge back out of the way, but the opportunity had clearly been taken advantage of. 

The painting drops down, but instead of cracking on Issala's head, her head goes into the painting itself as if it was a doorway. Gravity and the magic the thief cast pull the painting down over all of them, transporting the three fellbloods into the magical demi-plane it contains. 

The sudden shift in environment sends them tumbling off balance and onto the ground inside the painting's landscape. Zarius manages to somersault back up onto his feet before he whirls around to dart back for the portal they were just forced through. He stops in place though, as there is no portal to pass back through to even speak of. 

They were trapped.

SHIT. 

Back in the real world, the thief pushes past the crowd and picks up the painting off the ground. With a snap of his fingers, it folds and he tucks it away in his cape. Glancing at Morrigan's wagon, he seems to consider absconding with the colorful caravan as well, but decides against it seeing as getting those still aboard it to cooperate now likely would not end well. 

One of the onlookers, a burly dwarf, approaches. 

"Oi! What did ye do with those three?"

"Never you mind. Ladies and gentlemen, you have been an excellent audience, but now I must take my leave."

Confused murmurs spread through the crowd as he passes by and with another flourish of his hand, his wagon packs itself up. Appearing in front of the wagon, seemingly out of nowhere, is a chameleon-like drake with pitiful scrawny wings. The beast is clearly not capable of flight, but that hardly matters as it pulls forward and races off with the wagon once its driver has taken his seat.

"Ta ta," the man waves at Morrigan's allies as he speeds away. 

Huh. So it seemed that Miss Issala-Izzy-Arodre and Master Zarius-King of the petulant buttfaces knew each other from random work they’d done together, because Morrigan had a difficult time picturing Zarius engaging in sleepovers with little pink slippers and gossiping over boys. They also had a difficult time picturing Zarius with parents, considering their only mental image of what they looked like was Zarius twice over, but with white hair and big bushy eyebrows. And also infinitely more scary. Way more scary.

Though Izzy set Zarius on the ground somewhat, she hoisted Morrigan further into the air, which Morrigan took full advantage of - clambering up her shoulder like a feral, smug housecat. Zarius offered some polite denials over brunch, Morrigan felt a sense of satisfaction that Zarius was just as averse to the idea of playing nice with them as they were. “Oh? Too bad then, I suppose Miss Issala and I will just have to enjoy mimosas ourselves. You will be missed, Dame Zarius- BLEGH! Izzy, hair.” They choked as they accidentally inhaled a lungful of Izzy’s curls, interrupting their sarcastic diatribe.

Their coughing and sputtering, unfortunately, distracted them from the trap that had already been sprung. Only the tingle of magic in the air, one that gave the mana-cursed charlatan goosebumps, alerted them to the fact that something was well and truly wrong. They wheezed, pounding at their chest when all of a sudden their world went dark and the scenery changed around them.

“WUH?”

They were so startled by the change in environment that it almost felt like the world was shifting around them. Wait, no, it literally was! No longer were they on stable ground, but some sort of wooden floorboard that lurched violently, throwing Morrigan’s balance off. They fell off of Izzy’s shoulders, landing on their ass at the same time Zarius tried to go back through whatever portal they’d been sent through, but there was nothing.

Which meant.

Morrigan was trapped in some weird place with the very person they’d just been provoking this entire time.

“Oh, fu….”

---

“-uck!” Mariposa hissed at the sudden display, rubbing at her eyes as if she were dreaming. Was she dreaming? This was like something out of a play or a drama, a magician spiriting three people out of thin air and disappearing just as quickly.

Well, that happened.

The young, elven mage and the reptilekin bard could only stand and stare in shock as the reptilian creature manifested in front of the masked scammer’s wagon, the vehicle pulling out of the crowded street with unsurprising speed, taking the painting - and the three fellbloods - with him. To her credit, Ceres Celestia was quickly recovering from her shock, rolling up the long sleeves of her forest-green robe.

“Oh my goodness! We have to go after him, Mariposa!” She squeaked, her tone full of courage - her red face and teary eyes, on the other hand, told a different story. Nevertheless, she’d just witnessed her teacher, the person who’d given her this staff and these robes and helped her find confidence, had just been kidnapped! And they were the only ones that could help! She rallied herself to the task, turning towards the minstrel, ready to set off and save their master…

“Yeah, no thankssssss.” Mariposa replied, turning away from the scene with a shrug. “Morrigan doesn’t pay me enough to deal with this shit.”

“What? B-But we have to help them!”

“Or we could take their stuff and sell it on the black market and live like queens.”

Ceres Celestia let out a scandalized gasp. “I would never! Master Moonweaver would do the same for me if I was in this situation! I don’t care how dangerous it is! If I can’t save them from one measly scam artist then I’m not worthy of being their student in the first place!”

Mariposa stared down at the little elven lady, brows raised. She was certainly rared up today. Never mind the fact that in the same position, Morrigan Moonweaver would almost certainly not do the same thing. “Oh, you sweet summer child.” She reached down to pet Ceres Celestia’s head. “Well, if you want to go after them, be my guest. I’m not going to get myself killed for that living glitter bag.” Seriously, she was just a bard. She only had her lute and her ability to write songs, and that was what she was paid to. Leave the saving the day to people who actually gave a shit enough to do it. She wouldn’t bother going to save them, but at the very least she could write a ballad about their heroic death…

As they debated what they should do, a pair of spectators from the crowd walked past, whispering to one another.

“Was that master Zarius?”

“It looked like it. I didn’t think anyone would ever be able to get the drop on him…”

“An act of revenge or something? I never thought someone would be so daring as to try in public.”

“Who knows? All that matters is that the Right People aren’t going to be happy about this.”

Mariposa perked up. Money? Influence? Riches? It seemed that this Zarius guy was someone important. She didn’t really give a shit about what Morrigan had to offer her, but perhaps she could leverage something from this Zarius, or at the very least, the people that might want him saved. Well, if there was actually profit to be had…

“I’m in.”

“Huh?” Ceres blinked, shocked by this sudden change of pace. Well, they didn’t particularly have time to keep arguing about it. She grabbed Mariposa’s wrist, dragging her back into the Wagon of Wonders. “Come on then, what are we wasting time around here for? Let’s go! To Master Moonweaver!”

“To the money-! I mean, to Morrigan!”

Ceres clambered up to the front seat, grabbing Sparkle Blossom’s reins and snapping them with renewed confidence. “Hi-YAH! MASTER MOONWEAVER, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, WE’RE COMING TO SAVE YOU!”

The Wagon of Wonders took off in a burst of glitter, with the determined witch at the helm, chasing after the wagon through the crowded city streets. Mariposa stayed in the back, taking stock of what Morrigan had left behind for them to use. A bag of glitter, some baubles that were probably filled with explosives… oh, now this one was interesting.^[1] Her eyes widened when she saw the crystal ball on Morrigan’s wooden table, the one they used to record things. This, too, she grabbed, allowing it to hover just at her shoulder.

With a clawed hand, she grabbed the crystal ball, allowing it to hover just at her shoulder. The other potions and explosives she swept into her bag. She poked her head out of the tarp. “See if you can corner that thief in an alley, or at his hideout. We need to confront him in person.”

“Got it!” Ceres Celestia cried, urging the wagon to move even faster.

---

A ship. Seconds ago, they were in the middle of a landlocked city with no sign of the ocean in sight, and now they were in the middle of some boat in the middle of nowhere. Morrigan clung to Izzy’s leg, eyes squeezed shut as if that would somehow transport them back to Darkveil from… wherever they were. But no, whatever magic had spawned them here was not going to let up anytime soon - wait, magic!

Man, it sure was handy that they had a nifty little curse that just to happened to negate this very thing!

“Alright, it’s cool, we’re going to be alright, I’ll save us all!” Morrigan wasn’t exactly sure how to control the curse, if it could even really be controlled at all, but it usually just… acted up whenever there was magic around. Maybe all they had to do was concentrate really hard and this spell would just vanish into thin air and they’d be back home! “Just let me try… THIS!”

They concentrated so hard that they might have popped a blood vessel.

But when they opened their eyes again, they were still in the exact same situation, a dingy ship waving a pirate’s flag rolling against choppy waves.

Surely, this was hell.

“Well, I’ve done all I can do! Anyone else got any bright ideas?”

---

In the cart with the minions:
Explosive Ornaments
Shaping Putty
Parasite Poison
Crystal Ball
-All the pets are with the minions too-

It was a spectacle in and of itself, three Fellbloods with very different goals combining like a dangerous chemical reaction set to explode. Izzy wobbles a little as Morrigan clambers up and away from Zarius' reach, snickering when they get a mouthful of her hair. "Save your appetite for the crepes, dearest Moonweaver! Though I am sure my curls are delicious."

As Zarius politely declies, Izzy all but pouts; she wanted to spend time with him, too! Oh, woe that her two best friends should not get along. Alas, alack. "Awwww, but it would be so fun! That's fiiiine, I guess I will just get to gossip with Momo here; I gotta hear all about this lover of yours, I have a pin board of possibilities I'd love to--"

She doesn't even see it coming, too busy maintaining the distance between Morrigan and Zarius and nattering on and on. One moment, she is in Darkveil, and the next, a shroud falls over her eyes, not unlike a ship at sea.

---

Somewhere, back in Zeinav, a stout, elegantly dressed lavender fellblood pauses in her indulgent reading of today's latest news. A tingle in the back of Ofeilia's mind, the elder-sister sense that was solely for whether or not her younger sister was in the midst of shenanigans. It was too quiet.

Something was almost certainly up.

Exhaling a slightly annoyed sigh through her nose, Fei sets aside her paper and drags over her writing paper with jeweled fingers, and starts the process of putting together a spell.

---

Meanwhile, Izzy opens her eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden shift in location. She staggers a little as Morrigan falls straight down, stumbling out of the way to avoid both them and Zarius as he rolls toward the portal as it closes. The ship lifts and falls through the waves, a storm on the horizon, a pirates flag waving in the wind above them. But more importantly--

Izzy was now, inexplicably, wearing a Captain's hat.

She puts her hands on her hips and clicks her tongue. "Welp. We appear to be truly up a creek without a paddle." Which was hilarious because ships had rudders, not paddles, ha ha. She looks over at Morrigan, who appeared to have a solution to their woes. "Hell yeah, you got this Momo, show this painting world what you got!

....Which apparently amounted to Morrigan squeezing their eyes shut in intense focus and producing no discernabe result whatsoever. Izzy reaches out and pats their shoulder. "Good try, good try." She shifts her gaze to Zarius. "Aight, what do you got? We're in some sort of alternative... place. We didn't get teleported, the textures are all weird." She puts a hand on the railing, running her palm over the grain of the wood. It feels weird. Not the same, but similar. "If it's an illusion it's a damn good one."

Zarius sucks a breath in through his teeth. He's teetering on the edge of lashing out at the nearest punch-able face before he centers himself and calms down. 

He turns and looks at Issala with her captain's hat. "Did you say you have a pin board?? No, nevermind, that is not important right now."

Pinching the bridge of his nose he refocuses on the situation at hand. 

"We have been had." And by 'we', he meant himself. This damn thief has made a complete fool of the fellblood thanks to the distraction caused by the pair of oblivious chaos gremlins he's trapped with.

At least he can explain what has happened to them given what he knows. Maybe that will be enough to get them to take things more seriously. Ha. Wishful thinking.

"It is not an illusion. We are inside a magical painting. By the looks of things, getting out is far harder than getting in."

He closes his eyes and focuses for a moment. The threads of magic laced through their distorted surroundings are a tangled mess, but they're strong. This strange magic is able to make a facsimile of reality that is only a few steps away from being fully real rather than just an abstraction. It's not a mere illusion, he knows that.

He opens one eye just a crack as Morrigan tries something. Of course, nothing happens. Why would he expect anything different? He closes his eye again and returns to focusing on the magic around them.

Despite there being no enemies to target, perhaps he can still disrupt the arcanum that holds them captive within the painted scene. He places a hand against his own chest and tries to free himself from the influence of the magic.^[1] Unfortunately, it does little to nothing. He figured as much, but it was worth a try. 

Looking at the two, he knows he can rely on Issala given her previous track record. Though her choice in friends is a bit disappointing. 

"Rumor is that the artist who created this work disappeared, never to be seen again. Presumably, he became trapped in his own painting which if true, does not bode well for us."

He drops his gaze to the painted floorboards of the ship's deck for a moment while he considers the best course of action before he looks back up at Issala. 

"Perhaps that magical key of yours will still work here. There is a door to try it on." He gestures towards the door which would typically lead to the captain's quarters on a regular ship.

Glancing back at Morrigan, Zarius crosses his arms. "What are you even doing in Darkveil? I doubt you have run out of 'clients' to scam out in the desert. Pulling that kind of shit in Ashen Father territory, it is like you are desperate for a second early grave."

He doesn't try to hide the venom in his tone. Everything he was able to pull up on this Wizard of the Wastes after their first encounter more than proved that the purple fellblood was a chronic liar and fraud. Zarius could only assume that Morrigan was just using Kvasir the same way they had used others who seemingly gave them everything including the benefit of the doubt. Too bad for Morrigan that plenty of those people were willing to talk and that money could easily convince people with no loyalty to hand over important personal documents. It hadn't been a particularly difficult investigation, especially with the reputation Zarius has gained over the past year. 

As they chat, something swims just under the hull of the ship. If the adventurers thought they were alone amongst the brushstroke waves, they were wrong. 

---

[1] Remove Magic (1/2 per topic)

---

Meanwhile, back in the real world, the thief's wagon speeds through the streets of Darkveil, easily maneuvering through the familiar territory. The thief barely has to touch the reins as their bug-eyed drake races along. The man glances back around the corner of the covered wagon to see if anyone was in pursuit. Sure enough, that glittery glamor wagon was hot on their trail. 

"Hm." He hums and stands up on the front seat.

From what he had observed earlier, it was the purple one that belonged to the wagon pursuing him. Fair enough, it makes sense that his bold kidnapping attempt would not go unnoticed. Really, if he had managed to isolate his target, he could have spared himself the trouble in theory. Though given how chummy the three were acting when he sprung his trap, it was entirely possible he'd have more in pursuit had he only taken the one. 

Still, he was a reasonable man. He would give these folks a chance to make his life easier. 

"If you want your purple friend back, you can more than have them once my business is complete!" He shouts back to Mariposa and Ceres Celestia over the rattle of the wooden wheels bouncing across the cobblestone street. 

It was worth noting that Izzy was not the only one who’d found their appearance somehow changed with their new environment. Instead of a pirate hat, though, the charlatan’s Zeinavian garb had been replaced with a flowing blouse with puffy sleeves, and leather pants that looked almost impossibly too tight on their frame; they left nothing to the imagination and highlighted everything that neither Zarius nor Izzy was likely inclined to see. As their brilliant plan to be a hero and break everyone out of whatever spell this was failed, they crossed their legs criss-cross applesauce while the other two spoke overhead.

Why hadn’t their curse worked? So far as Morrigan had been able to figure, the absence of mana in their body left them akin to an empty, sealed container in the middle of the ocean. Open the floodgates and the water immediately rushed in to occupy it. But thus far, they’d yet to find a spell they couldn’t negate if they just simply allowed themselves to absorb the power of the magic until it was eaten away by the curse. It wasn’t as if they even cared to understand the semantics of the curse, though they were finally getting to the point where they had no qualms using it to get what they wanted. Magic, curses, they were all tools. Morrigan would use anything at their disposal if it would help them… but it figured even when they were consciously trying to make use of the thing that had ruined their life, it would screw them over.

Loathe as they were to even utter these words in the backmost recesses of their consciousness…

It looked like Zarius was right.

Ginma’s fuzzy horse ass, even just thinking the words made Morrigan shudder.

But it was true. This felt less of an illusion and more some place entirely new. No longer were they in Darkveil, but almost removed from reality completely. Almost like standing on the precipice of a dream…

“If there was a door in, then there’s guaranteed to be a door out!” Morrigan asserted confidently, with all the bravado of someone who was entirely convinced of the truth of their answer despite the fact that Morrigan knew absolutely jack all about enchanted paintings (And really, they didn’t. Morrigan could make use of items imbued with magic, external spells that had been forged entirely separate from themselves. But the moment Morrigan tried to wrap their head around the process of enchantment and arcanacraft themselves, it simply vanished from their head). But doors were not exclusively one way! If it could let you in then surely it could let you out!

They let out a derisive snort at the story regarding the painting’s original creator.

“That sounds like a them problem. I’ve never met a place I couldn’t get in or out of if I was so inclined to. And if there isn’t an escape, then we just have to make one by force, don’t we? How hard could flimsy canvas be to rip through?”

Silence. Morrigan huffed, rolling their eyes at the lack of response to their rather brilliant plan. “What? I don’t see either of you coming up with a plan. I’d rather die in a blaze of glory after trying something that didn’t work than rot here in mediocrity.”

That was when Zarius brought up the key. Oh. That was probably a sounder plan. Morrigan pulled themselves to their feet as Zarius finally turned his attention to them -

And a shiver ran down their spine at the implication of his words.

He’d done his research. Of course he had. Zarius was the kind of criminal that Morrigan hated dealing with the most; obnoxiously meticulous and insufferably smug whenever he thought he knew something he wasn’t supposed to. The fact that he’d caught wind of Morrigan’s past given his proximity to Kvasir was… not ideal, but Morrigan was comforted by the fact that he likely would not go snitching to Kvasir when he couldn’t exactly explain where he’d gotten it in the first place. Besides, Issala Izzy Arodre already had a good idea of Morrigan’s affliction, and she’d probably done a bit of digging on them herself when she’d been hired to dig up dirt on them all those months ago.

Perhaps the dig bothered them - and oh, it stung like a motherfucker - but Morrigan couldn’t let Zarius see that they were bothered by what he knew.

They flipped their braid over their shoulder, covering up the initial shock that Zarius had caused before covering it up with a coy look and a cock of their hips. “Why, Zarius, I had a suspicion you might have had a crush on me, but I was not aware how deep this river ran. Might I fine a shrine dedicated to my visage if I were to enter your private quarters? If I’d known you were a fan, I’d have brought along an autographed copy of one of my portraits.”

Oh, they were definitely toying with fate now. If the gods were alive they’d probably be cringing watching Morrigan flirt with the concept of death so wantonly, but unfortunately for them, Morrigan already had a pretty good idea of Zarius’s weak point. He liked to pretend he was some composed tactical mastermind, but it was all too easy to rile him up and watch him spin around like an angry wind-up doll until he forgot about what he’d been doing before he was angry in the first place. With any luck it had already slipped his mind that he’d been probing about Morrigan’s past.

… Still, they retreated to the safety of the Izzy fortress just in case Zarius felt like punching out his anger.

They scrambled up the taller woman’s back until they were perched on her shoulders once more, resting their chin on the top of her head. Was it just them, or was the boat rocking even more violently than it had been moments before? They could feel the gentle, rhythmic pounding of waves against the side of the seafaring vassal, only growing more frantic with each passing second. Not just a prison designed to trap them - but one to isolate them and swallow them whole.

“Whelp, no time like the present to make our grand escape, Captain Issala! I humbly place my fate in your hands before the storm approaches and the white whale emerges from the depths.” They pat her cheek with one glitter-covered hand, as if to say, chop chop, you’re the ideas woman, make with the life saving.

---

Meanwhile, Morrigan’s own followers were still in hot pursuit of the man who’d kidnapped their boss and their boss’s friends. The Wagon of Wonders bumped along the cobblestone paths, Sparkle Blossom wheezing in protest, the beast of burden rather unused to such high-speed movement. The young mage clung to the reins so tightly that her knuckles were bone-white, her eyes locked on the target with an almost feverish intensity. Her anger only boiled over at this villain’s lies that he would return Master Moonweaver if they left him alone.

“I don’t make deals with criminals!” She shouted, woefully ignorant to the irony in her claim. “Come on, Mariposa, we need to stop him!”

“I think I’ve got just the thing.” Mariposa reached into her bra, pulling out a bright-colored bauble that she’d found in the Wagon of Wonders. Morrigan usually stuffed these things chock-full of explosives, so it was about fifty-fifty whether this would work or not. Oh, well. Only one way to find out. Mariposa lobbed the ornament at the con artist’s wheel with as much force as she could muster - and following her up was Ceres Celestia, raising her finger with a burst of flame that set off the explosive, attempting to burst the wheel into smithereens and halt the wagon in its tracks.^[1,2]

---

1. Explosive Ornament (1/3)
2. Firebolt - Ceres Celestia

The banter was certainly getting interesting. As she had hoped, her two dearest friends got along swimmingly, absolutely at one another's throats in a battle of who could out petty the other. A second early grave? Izzy's brow arches slightly, and files that away for later, allowing Morrigan to clamber her shoulders to stay out of the reach of Zarius highly dangerous hands, deflecting with more talk of crushes. She nods, as if understanding; it was all in her pinboard, of course. The house key was also a good idea and worth a try, but she had a way of getting to that point that would be WAY more fun than simply hopping to it.

They were on this ship, and she had a captains hat, and they had no idea how they got there. Gripped by the imagery of the vast sea before them, Izzy, as was her wont, begins to narrate.

"There I was, alone, at the helm, fighting an unequal battle," Izzy says suddenly, with a grizzled depth to her voice as she scowls out at the ocean. She was not at the helm and nor were they fighting, but this does not seem to deter her. Morrigan is perched on her shoulders, an officially designated parrot. "The sky darkened; thunder boomed and lightning threatened to split the ship asunder." There is a spark of lightning across the clouds, but no sound to be heard, lost to the waves. "The wind gathered strength and turned into
a violent storm. Huge waves rose, tossing the ship perilously on the sea." and the ship does indeed lurch a little, though not from a storm that was not happening. She steps towards the port side, gripping the railing of the deck in determination. "In times such as these, when all lives of the crew hang in the balance, the only thing left is to turn to them," she turns to Zarius, a deep seriousness in her ember eyes, and up at the cat-like Morrigan resting their chin on her head. "--and tell them what they need to here, that we might make it through this night."

A heavy pause hangs in the air, weighted with unspoken words. Izzy slowly takes a breath--

Aaand breaks into song, performing a jig in the direction of the captain's door.

"I AM THE VERY MODEL OF A PRIVATE EYE AND ORATOR
I'VE INFORMATION CRIMINAL, CIVIL, AND CONSPIRATOOOO--WHOA."

There is a cracking sound from below the decks that sounds wretched, and sends them staggering. A long tendril full of suction cups begins to rise out of the water and coil around the prow of the ship, beginning to drag the vessel under.

"AAAGH KILLER PAINTING, YEP OKAY LEAVING." she hurries to the Captain's door, puts her House Key in the lock, and it pop's open. With a relieved titter of anxiety, she lifts Morrigan off her shoulders so they don't hit their head on the doorway, and tosses the purple fellblood through the door, holding it open so Zarius could go through as well.

---

Ofeilia finishes setting up the spell to cast and try and locate her wayward younger sister, idly fiddling with one of the many rings on her fingers as she lines up the spell. These were just... so costly. Issala had better appreciate this. Her dear sister had better be in some actual life threatening danger this time, or Lunala help her...

The scrying spell rolls through her fingers as she mutters the arcane words, and blows gently on the formulae towards the bowl of clear water, spreading the magic over the ripples. It takes effect quickly-- but not in the way Ofeilia is used to.

First, she cannot see Izzy. Only some schlub tearing down the road in a horse drawn cart, looking very pleased with himself. But the focus is not on him-- rather, it is on the painting bouncing in the cart. She squints, leaning towards the bowl with her nose nearly touching the water, before she catches a glimpse of red frantically moving, before it vanishes from view.

Fei sighs, throwing her head back in frustration. "For fuckssake, Issala."

At least it was for real this time.

---

Where the trio of fellbloods next find themselves is... not Charon, decidedly. It is still constructed of brush-strokes, but they are no longer in the middle of the open ocean. Rather, Zarius, Morrigan and Izzy find themselves in an area each of them would know to be quite familiar. The streets of Zeinav at the docks, the sun setting somewhere to the West, behind the extraordinarily tall buildings. Taller than they had any right to be honestly, and smooth enough that they were not immediately climbable. And rather than the twists and turns the alleys of Zeinav were known for, this alley was unusually straight. It also did not seem to come to an immediate end, the far end of the alley in either direction unknowably distant and dark.

"....HM." Izzy says, her voice a little squeaky. "Sooo. Zarius." She looks down at the man as she offers Morrigan to clamber up again. "This painting. The painter died here, or whatever, right? Do you know what the puuuurpose of a painting like this was? Maybe?"

Something roars, and the broad, leathery wings of a dragon fly overhead, before vanishing out of view.