GOOD PERFORMANCE. [training thread]

The Queen cocked her head and peered up at Pride, a smile growing underneath her mask.

"And doesn't pride consume? Doesn't pride do things for one's own self image?", she cooed right back, "Lies are deception and mischief, dear. But it doesn't mean such things cannot have good intent behind them."

She swept up the antlers, her stumpy body wiggling like a child who'd gotten exactly what they'd wanted for Christmas. She disappeared into the crowd with them, small enough to slip through legs, a laugh on her false lips.

She looked up at the two, the antlers now on her shoulders, positioned with the prongs forward, looped around her neck. She knew this spell, but not as well as her natural plague magic. But it was similar enough in theory that she knew she could take to it easily.

Mushrooms grew up from the ground, mildly toxic with red caps and white speckles. She smiled to herself, hands clasped, cooing softly.

Pride's gray eyes grew cold as Arwen spoke. There was something mock-sinister about her, something cloying and quite frankly disgusting.

"No," he replied, even as she spoke; "Pride is not arrogance. Pride is about doing the best that you can, and doing well. Not about manipulation, and certainly not about being consumed. Wrapping that sort of thing in bad poetry won't make it better," he added, dourly. His magic tugged at the antlers, jerking them back, taking them hostage for a moment: and, staring still, he added: "Generally, for a gift, we expect a thank you."

He did not like this one. And he did not, for a moment, believe the nonsense she was spouting. Her calling him "deer," rather than his name--as he'd understood it--certainly did not help.

Finally, thrillingly, he got questions! And two excellent questions at that, although at the same time, he caught sight of clear tension rising between Arwen and Pride. He cast a glance at both of them -- he'd expected better from the pair, for different reasons, but he didn't want to humiliate either of them, either. So, he didn't single either of them out. "Please remember, everyone, that this is a peaceful meeting -- a place to learn. I understand that some of you might not get along with each other, but contrary to what it might seem, I am not fond of needless conflict." There was audible humor in his tone, poking fun at himself, and then he gracefully moved on.

"Thank the pair of you for your questions," he said, and then began with Aran's. "As for the other uses of Fungal Wake, there are many -- it can be used to create any variety of fungus you've seen, and some characteristics are even able to be tweaked outside the realm of possibility with practice. For example," he said, touching the ground in various places, "you can even use it creatively." He left a wonky and off-color but still somewhat recognizable image of James on the stone. "As I said earlier, if the variety of fungus you create is safe, it may be eaten. It can be used to remove other fungal afflictions, not just Mother -- for example, if a dangerous spell of mine were to backfire or I wanted to cease its effects on someone else, I could use Fungal Wake. Just keep in mind that whatever you use it on, you must be touching -- and that it's rather painful when it's used on one's skin."

As for Carja... he dipped his head in her direction. "This brings me to my next point -- if those of you who are not magically inclined become infected, your allies can cleanse you, as James did to many of those infected at the Raid. However, Carja brings up an important point, and I commend you for it. If you are able, you are expected to resist Mother at all costs -- however, the affliction can be remarkably persuasive. I myself was not strong enough, for example, and had to be purged by force." He grimaced. "It is an outcome I strongly wish to avoid, but if all else fails and you are a danger to others -- as I was -- then you may be returned to your chrysalis. This will cleanse you of the infection, and I would personally see to it that you were retrieved if you went down across enemy lines. In all likelihood, this is how we will have to purge the Harbingers, if they are capable of being purged at all." Tahi-shei shuddered to think what might have happened if he went down.

He cleared his throat. "On a lighter note -- if you wish to aid us but are not magically adept, you still may. Master Vargas himself is bringing his army of physically-adept creatures. This is not the only training that those of you who wish to help will have, I imagine -- there will likely be guidance by the Master and further planning before we make our assault. As long as you are willing to help, I am certain that we will make use of you, and Mother's own armies are likely just as susceptible to claws and teeth as the rest of us. I do know that they are distressed by chaos and disorder -- for example, throwing pebbles on the ground may distract them. There are many ways to help, my friends. All you need is a courageous spirit and the desire to help others at any cost."

Finally, the stag dipped his head to the gathered attendees. "If there are any more questions, I will be happy to answer them. Otherwise, you are all free to leave -- those of you who are willing to help me should return here in exactly seven days, and I will bring you to meet with the Master. If, in that time, you find others who are willing to support our cause, I would be happy to have them."

James glanced at Pride and Arwen, shifting silently. He flicked his tail, eyes narrowed, and closed his eyes for just a moment.

The wisp he'd meant to summon instead exploded in a flash of light, most likely drawing the attention of all gembound present. Certainly the two he'd meant to have drawn the attention of, but at the same time, it left his vision spotty, a rather large spot appearing in his retina. He staggered back, wings flapping for a moment, panicked, but quickly regained his composure, turning his head away quickly to hide his embarrassment.

"Squabble elsewhere," he said, tears welling up as his eyes burned, "Your majesty, Pride. Please."

He rubbed at his eyes and blinked, but it was useless and his eyes were still swirling. Damn.

He nudged Tahi and swallowed, "S-sorry I need to leave-"

Stupid spells... damn it.

He nudged Comet gently and walked away, barely able to see where the hell he was even going, "Lead us home, please."

The Queen was about to snap, her temper short, but the flash of light caught her attention and James' words caught her ears. She worked her jaw and yanked the antlers back with a hiss, mandibles clicking and sharp mouth parts aching to dig into something soft.

"Thank you," she said, voice grating, as if the words were difficult to get out, and made a note in her head to not allow pretty creatures to automatically mean they understood her morbidity.

Pride... she'd remember that name, so foolishly given out. Her eyes slid upwards towards his antlers and an idea formed. Maybe she'd task Marshmallow to gather more information about him. Keeping track of the various other groups and their objectives would be useful.

"I will be there, Fungal Prince," she hissed, "But I will not fight, neither will any of my people. We will provide aid where we can, with clothes to brave Ursa's chill, with sustenance while you lay siege, and my personal plague."

And with that, she turned and hobbled off, to tell her faeries of this meeting and to get to work setting up her network of spies.

His tone had been measured, and James's snappy response had him jerk silver eyes toward the horse. He was releasing the antlers already, nodding to Arwen. "You're quite welcome," he told her, intent on demonstrating proper etiquette. One brow perked at James. "It is hardly squabbling, James, you needn't fear." He was rather taken aback by the horse's rather rude, in his mind, choice of words. "And please do not call me 'your majesty.'" There was almost disgust in his tone, at that; why the hell would anyone think him a King? Or had he misunderstood; had James been addressing someone else entirely?

Those pale eyes cut to Tahi-shei, again irritated, though he showed nothing bar a sort of formidable aloofness. "I don't think you need worry about conflict." It was coldly stated, though calm, and he looked around at the others' work.

Spores all around, then; and he needed only press his magic into them-? Was life all that different from energy, in the end? Hmm.
Pale head lowered to the ground, hooves planting slightly spread; a gentle carpet of fungus bloomed out before him. Satisfied, the stag lifted his head back up again. It was hardly the frothing forest that others had created, but it was a start, and it would do. "You can expect my aid; simply find me when you have need of me," he added, and turned, with delicate steps, to go.