The Opulent Quarrel - Round One: Mademoiselle Primfel's

Username: Chimney and Forge
What’s going on here? Two characters? Two usernames?!
We’re much more confident in our ability to write together than our ability to write individually. So we’re making a collaborative app. We spoke to a few people and they said that would be fine? We hope nobody minds!

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Völsung
Name: Dragún of Boundaries, Summoner of Legends, Anam den Dragúnsídhe (Soul of the Dragon), Anam den Völsung (Soul of Völsung), or just Völsung for short.

Gender: Female

Species: Dragúnsídhe (Elf with Dragon Soul)

Colour: Dragúnflame red #FF0000

Biography:
Pain. That’s all Völsung knew. Pain, and more pain. Völsung’s entire right side felt aflame. Vaguely, the dragún recognised the crushing weight of stones and debris. A collision with the castle, then. Völsung tried to lift a wing —

A roar, as fresh agony lanced through Völsung’s body. That clearly wasn’t going to work. The wing was… well, it wasn’t functional any more, that much Völsung could tell.

How long had Völsung been lying there? How had the collision happened? A battle against the demonic invaders, definitely. Their whirring still filled the air. But the details were elusive. It was hard to think. Völsung’s talons and tail were growing cold. Blood loss?

It wouldn’t be long.

The dragún opened one eye. There, Völsung saw a footsoldier — one of the sídhe*, the mortal inhabitants of the fey isle of Cill Mórinis. This one looked like an elf. She was clutching a flimsy spear, staring at Völsung, white-faced and caked in dust. Not the most impressive of candidates. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Völsung’s body tingled like needles as the contingency spell began to take hold. The power of a dragún was too precious to lose. Not now, not in this war. Dragún souls had to be salvaged, and crammed into whatever container was nearby to receive them.

Völsung’s eye closed again. This was going to hurt.

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The war ended. The mechanical demons were driven back. Cill Mórinis was saved, at a steep cost.

Anam den Völsung — for that was her name now, Völsung’s Soul; the world didn’t care to remember her elven name — sought out a new life. Her kind were something new to the world, their place in it uncertain. Many, Völsung included, did not even know who they were, two minds and souls bound to a single body. Most did not last long, going insane, killing themselves, or simply disappearing into ill-remembered legend. Völsung ended up in the last category, after meeting with a figure known as the Witch of Boundaries several years after the war while wandering the southern coast of Cill Mórinis. The witch offered to take her far and wide with her teleportation magic, to explore the world and beyond. To this day, the dragúnsídhe does not know why the Witch of Boundaries offered to take her, but it was perhaps exactly what she needed to resolve the duality of her existence into a single being once more.

The duo traveled far and wide, sometimes sailing across oceans, sometimes walking by foot, but often whisking away to new lands by the witch’s teleportation magic. The Witch was a trickster through and through, and the two of them got into many… adventures together. Along the way, the Witch began to teach Völsung the basics of dimensional magic, which Völsung developed into her signature summoning contracts.

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Many centuries later, Völsung left the companionship of the Witch behind, traveling back to her homeland of Cill Mórinis, making her way to what was once her dragún lair, Dún Völsung. As she neared, the dragún Lavættur sensed her presence, and rushed to defend his domain. Confused by the lack of another dragún in the air, he landed next to Völsung, asking if she had seen a dragún. She replied that she only knew of him and herself. Lavættur laughed. To the Summoner’s credit, she had originally thought ill of forcing him into a contract, but at this insult, her ire was raised.

An hour later, Lavættur’s corpse lay burning in Dún Völsung’s druid grove, scorching and destroying the consecrated land.

Normally, a defeated dragún was killed by the victor, but as she was not only a dragún, Völsung instead forced him into her service, taking over the lair and unintentionally, the town that had sprung up around it. While she hadn’t intended to become a ruler, that was what she was. With Lavættur’s economic advice and her larger-scale mindset, she managed to expand her rule to several neighboring provinces and increase the general wealth of the area. Several times jealous neighbors assaulted her lands for its wealth, but each time they were turned back.

Now, an alliance of countries on the mainland have turned their eyes upon Cill Mórinis, and Völsung, along with other forward thinking leaders such as the Verdant Queen, are attempting to organize the island once more for an organized defense. Unfortunately, it seems a pair of asshat gods have other ideas. Will they be able to get home and save their precious home?

*Sídhe: The ‘mundane’ inhabitants of Cill Mórinis — mainly elves, humans, and cait. Cill Mórinis being the fey land that it is, many outsiders would consider sídhe (even the human ones) to be strange and mystical, but nonetheless sídhe are mortals. Sídhe are civilised city-builders, but live in greater harmony with nature than most civilisations do: a lot is possible when the land’s spirits are so overt and will so readily lend their magic.

Description:

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Spoilerart by Rella

Völsung is an elf. She’s noticeably short, perhaps a head shorter than average. She has extremely long white hair, which she keeps tied back in braids. Her most unusual feature is the two curved black horns jutting forward from the sides of her head — the only outward sign of her dragún soul.

Her clothing tends toward the elegant, with frilly cuffs and long draping sleeves, but without being too impractical. It usually includes reds, blacks, and whites, to bring out her fiery red eyes and white hair. After becoming the ruler of Dún Völsung and participating in the celebrations of spirits, she has also started including red roses into her hair.

Most find Völsung high and mighty at first, mixed with a subtle blend dispassion and calculation. However, those that deal with her on a daily basis know her to be a hard working leader, who cares deeply for those she is in charge of, be they troops she is leading or citizens of her country. She still thinks herself above them, but she earns that right in most of their minds.

She shows disdain and annoyance to tasks finds either beneath her or superfluous. They are a distraction to her, even if they must be done. Questioning her abilities or dragún status is an easy way to gain her ire, which can make her act rashly, often forcing the offender into a contract.

Items/Abilities:
Contractual Magic: By far Völsung’s strongest magic, it allows her to form magically binding contracts with others. The terms are highly variable, she has made contracts as mundane as trade agreements and exotic as bringing another dragún into her service. It is not impossible to break these contracts, either through finding a loophole or using sheer willpower to overcome the other party, but Völsung has the iron will of a dragún and the expertise of the finest lawyer. While it is Völsung’s passion to form contracts with ever more powerful entities, she usually (but not always) practices informed consent: she recognizes that trying to force contracts onto others is asking for trouble, as is abusing those contracts she already has. Contracting has down sides: forming one takes a significant amount of energy from her, leaving her exhausted for days, sometimes weeks. And once formed, she is just as bound by her contract as the entity she is working with.

Völsung has dozens of contracts active, but the other parties remain far away in her home dimension. Occasionally, she may be compelled to do or not do something due to a clause buried in one of her contracts, but for the most part the contracts are inapplicable thanks to her circumstances. There’s one major exception: a contracted dryad known as the Verdant Queen was brought with her into the Battle.

Summoning Magic: Völsung is talented with her mentor’s dimensional magic. However, due to her limited understanding of this ridiculously intricate form of magic, she can only apply it in a narrow scope: summoning other entities from elsewhere on the world. First, she must form a contract with a summoning clause in it (most of her contracts do). This serves as a sort of targeting beacon for her magic to lock onto. Second, the target she wishes to teleport must be in the same dimension she is, or, while she does not know this limit, on the same world. Third, the summoning clause must not have any invaliding conditions, such as the target being nude or similar embarrassing situations. Quite often, this means the summoned individual must be willing.

Dragúnsídhe: Anam den Völsung is an elf imbued with the soul and a fraction of a dragún’s power. She will not die of natural causes and is generally more physically capable than her elven kind. She is however, almost as stubborn and willful as a dragún. She also has a tendency to hoard her wealth, something she has mostly overcome in her long travels.

Mundane Skills: During the war, Anam den Völsung learned to be a mighty warrior and leader of armies. During her time journeying with the Witch of Boundaries, in addition to learning Interdimensional magic, she became used to entering realms alien to her. Now at home, she has slowly begun to learn how to be a ruler. Additionally she is from what we would consider a low magic fantasy world, she knows many minor skills that you would expect someone who traveled a great deal in that type of setting. She however, knows next to nothing about worlds that have high technology.

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The Verdant Queen
Name: The Verdant Queen

Gender: Female

Species: Dryad

Colour: The green of fresh spring shoots #80c020

Biography:
Gaia’s Stepdaughters have many legends about their leader, but let us begin with the legend of her origin.

The Verdant Queen — although she did not have this name back then — was a simple dryad: a tree spirit who protected and tended to a small forest glade. A mystical creature, certainly, but a minor one, and she had no aspirations to be anything more. She was kind, and warm, and beautiful. Beautiful enough to turn the heads of even gods.

We shall omit the details of petty jealousy, divine curses, and other such legendary shenanigans. Skip to the happy ending. Sheltered among the boughs of the Heavenly Tree, this simple dryad accepted the affections of Mother Nature herself. As a betrothal gift, Mother Nature blessed her with the ears of the earth and the voice of the wind, and lifted her up to be the ruler of a great expanse of the forest.

Then came the war.

The blessed dryad fought, alongside mortal sídhe and mighty dragúns and every creature she could find in her woodland, to drive back the demonic harvesters. She encountered loss — so rare for an ageless nymph. She witnessed carnage and sacrilege. She grew to, if not understand, at least care for the sídhe and their ‘civilisation’. By the time the war was won, she found that the mortals cared for her, too, and came to her for advice and direction, especially with the extermination of their own leaders. So it was that a dryad came to be the queen of an elven kingdom.

Many seasons have passed since then. No mortal remains who remembers the war. But the danger looms again. Once again, all of Cill Mórinis must stand united or all of it will fall. So the Verdant Queen seeks alliances, and she has found one in Völsung. She has forged a contract with the Summoner, as well as a friendship.

It’s a shame that that contract led to her being dragged along when Völsung was taken for a Grand Battle…

Description:

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Spoilerart by sakimichan

The Verdant Queen is practically the Platonic ideal of beauty in sídhe culture. Her face and ears have the delicately angular features of an elf. She appears young, in the peak of fitness, with soft hands and a willowy build. Her pale skin is emblazoned with a dense blush of freckles. Her hair is a rippling curtain of amber, reaching down to her waist, yet it never gets in her way. She spends all her days outdoors, yet she is never dirty or wet.

As a symbolic protector of her people, she often wears armour — breastplate, gauntlets, boots — which, of course, is polished smooth and glimmers in the sun. Her clothing is mostly practical and unencumbring, but she can never resist the impulse to include a cape or a skirt, always big and green and billowing, evocative of leaves.

The Verdant Queen is a spirital embodiment of nature, so nature is her utmost concern. She doesn’t particularly care for the lives or happiness of individuals — death is a part of nature — and she doesn’t grasp why others care, except insofar as protecting one’s cubs or striving for one’s own success. She does care about the grand scale: pollution, deforestation, extinction, demons, and other such disruptions of the natural cycle. She will fight fiercely to protect a land she feels is under threat.

Her sentences are often stiff, because language does not come naturally to her. Sometimes, she may seem detached from the world. Other times she comes across as flighty, hedonistic, and wild. She rarely judges the behaviour of others; she prefers to let what is be. She is reactive, not proactive nor passive. She has trouble bonding with people unless she sees them as relevant to the grand scale. She’s distrustful of “demons” — which is to say, robots.

Items/Abilities:
Everything the Light Touches: In her home realm, the Verdant Queen is the ruler (in both spiritual and civil respects) of a large area. She can feel the land, and she can control phenomena such as weather on a large scale. Her subjects generally obey her laws and carry out her orders. But she’s not in her home realm any more, so those things are probably irrelevant now.

Ears of the Earth, Voice of the Wind: The Verdant Queen has the blessing of Mother Nature. All the beings of nature — be they plant, animal, or spirit — will hang on her words. They won’t necessarily do as she wishes, but they will be inclined to. They’ll see her as a lifelong friend.

Nymph Perfection: Against ‘civilised’ beings such as humans, her supernatural power doesn’t apply… but she is still breathtakingly beautiful on her own merits. She knows how to leverage her charm, but if that fails, her actual social skills are subpar: she tends to keep stumbling across ineffable mortal concerns.

Swords: The Verdant Queen is of high agility and fitness, and she has fought in wars before. She wears armour and a sword, and she knows how to use it. But this is far from her specialty, and she can expect to lose against any expert fighter. She prefers to avoid such confrontation.

She is, of course, an expert at herblore and botany.

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oops we accidentally wrote another 4 pages please disregard
Völsung sighed as she set her quill down on her Grimoire and looked to the grandfather clock, its elderly hour hand pointing to 2pm. Usually she would go gather her apprentice and help him through some basic Dimensional Arts calculations around now, part of the strange schedule that she had developed after gaining ownership of the castle and town, Dún Völsung. Instead she began to ascend through the winding corridors of the underground palace so she may meet with the town druids for their Ritual of Rejuvenation. When she had first made her lair here prior to the Dark Age, the 'palace' had been merely a cave. Now it had floors of stone so polished they gleamed in the torchlight and walls adorned with paintings from faraway lands. As she reached the ground floor, some servants hesitated in their cleaning, unsure in how to act.

Four months, and the people of this town still hadn't become accustom to her presence. Völsung shook her head ever so slightly in dismay, wondering if they ever would. To be fair, she had fought their previous dragún ruler in what was suppose to be a battle to the death, then spared his life and took him into her service. It was as though they had two rulers, the elderly dragún Lavættur and herself, an elf that claimed to be a dragún with only a pair of horns as her proof.

The servants' and peasants' confusion was understandable, just as it had been for the soldiers under her command during the Dark Age.

She exited the castle that guarded the land above the dungeon palace and walked down the winding road that lead to the town. In her time, this had been a simple dirt road first carved by adventurers out to slay her, then traversed by the elven warriors under her command, of which she once was. Now it was a lavish stonework road that connected the castle to its adjoined town via a bridge. She crossed over the bridge into a section of the town, not bothering to look down into the flowing river of the ravine below.

The town was spread across several plateaus surrounding the castle, bridges connecting them together. Peasants largely ignored her presence as she continued down the mossy stonework road that connected all the plateaus' bridges together, attending to preparations for tonight's festival. Paper lanterns and banners were being strung from the second stories of vine covered houses, saplings and seeds were being planted in gardens and musicians were practicing their instruments. Yes, everyone in the town of Dún Völsung was preparing for the night of the Ritual of Rejuvenation.

She crossed another bridge and laid eyes upon the ashen remains of the druid's grove. It had been the place where the battle between Lavættur and herself had culminated and had suffered the fiery wrath of the dragún. Over the past 4 months, the druids had tried to rekindle life back into the trees and plants, but the flora refused to grow. Now, they hoped to placate the spirits of the land and had assured her that the spirits would take notice if she attended.

The head druid caught sight of the Summoner and strode over to meet her with a wreath of flowers. "Summoner, how good it is to see you. I trust you are prepared?"

In all honesty, she had been dreading this day. If she didn't feel responsible for the carnage she wrought during her battle, she would have declined, for this was a ceremony of life and she was a creature of war and destruction, forged in the fires of the Dark Ages.

"Yes Druid, I am ready to begin the rehearsal.” He threw the wreathe over her head, the petals silky smooth on her skin, and guided her along.

The druids showed and practiced the ceremonial dance with her until near sundown. It was then they dressed her in robes that made one think of a forest, for she was to take the role of the dryad of the local woods. Other druids dressed as other important local spirits, of the flowing rivers, the richly scented soil, or the life-bringing rains.

As the sun was eclipsed by the mountains and dusk gave to night, musicians in the grove begin to play a rhythmic beat and those dressed as spirits began to dance with one another. Around and around, pass to the neighbour, don't let go. Colorful wisps began to appear in the air as they danced, casting their hues all over the town. One by one, the spirits portrayed by the actors appeared, taking physical form as nymphs and magical creatures and beginning to dance with their doubles. Völsung gave her best effort to the dance, making a mistake here and there, but kept going none the less.

Lesser spirits began to appear all over the town, and the celebration began for everyone. Townfolk and spirits danced together in harmony with one another, others enjoying the feast of food and ale that was laid out for everyone to partake in.

By the time first song was finally finished and Völsung was allowed to finally rest her feet, a very special guest had appeared in the sacred grove, unknown to all.

She wore the shape of an elf, with green robes and hair of orange gold, but with an unearthly air that marked her as one of the spirit world. Even among nymphs, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

She smiled, taking in the joyful air of the festival, watching the cavorting elves and spirits. Many of the passing wisps paused to bob at her, and she brightly greeted them back. After a short time, she walked up to the resting Völsung. "May I have the next dance?”

The dragún looked up at this spirit of ethereal beauty, stifling a sigh. "As it pleases you.” She stood up and reached for the hands of the unknown spirit to begin the dancing anew. Her feet and legs urged her to sit right back down, but she had to see this night of celebration through.

"So, you are the one who cast down the ruler of this place,” the spirit remarked. "You are small for a dragún.”

"They say the sting of the smallest creature may fell the largest.” Völsung walked in a circle with her partner, her head not reaching above the nymph’s shoulders. "Size is oft misconceived as power," she commented with a hint of annoyance.

A smile played on the spirit's lips. "Indeed. You must have great power to have earned the nickname 'Völsung', after the ancient leader.”

"It is no nickname spirit, I am she who was named Anam den Völsung."

A raised eyebrow. "Völsung has been gone for many seasons. Why would she suddenly appear now?”

The dragún looked away as she danced. "My reasons are my own spirit, but I now oversee my home once more." She looked back. "You ask many questions for one of the forest."

The nymph only grinned. "I am curious! It is not every day a dragún is defeated. It is a metamorphosis for this land - much like this ceremony. It is well done, by the way.” She spun out on one arm as she danced, then returned to Völsung, her head tilted to one side. "What are we to expect from the land's new form? What will you do with your rule?”

Völsung stayed quiet for a time, face furrowed, pondering the question as they cavorted around the grove. Finally, she answered, "Strength, prosperity, and security for all of Cill Mórinis. Sidhe have forgotten to keep their defenses sturdy and swords sharp. Forgotten lessons of the Dark Age."

The spirit nodded to herself. "The safety and the health to grow. What we all wish for. So long as you remember that we spirits are Cill Mórinis...” The song ended, and the nymph brought one of Völsung's hands to her lips, before releasing them. "Congratulations on becoming this land's ruler. Should you ever need advice, speak to the birds. They call me the Verdant Queen, and they will pass on your message.”

Völsung hid her surprise well. "Then I shall be thankful my palace is not open to the sky.” She sat down on a log, craning her head to look up at The Verdant Queen. "While the spirits are indeed part of Cill Mórinis, do not forget that Elves, Cait, Dragún, and all the other sidhe, are also Cill Mórinis and must rise together to protect it.”

The Verdant Queen shook her head. "I will forget. I will forget every time that I am at peace. But I will remember when it matters. Farewell, Anam den Völsung!” Without another word, she slipped into the crowd of dancers and disappeared.

Völsung watched the spirit go, muttering to no one in particular, "No spirit, I am afraid you will not remember. Not unless I command it of you.”

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Decades later…

Bickering, bickering, bickering. That’s all these mortals seemed to want to do. The grand hall echoed with shouting as the leaders went around their circular arguments once more.

Völsung made some excuse and left the hall. She strode down the passageways, footsteps echoing on the flagstones. She massaged her temples, just in front of the horns, trying to push back a headache.

A second set of footsteps heralded a follower. "Völsung? Are you ill?” The Verdant Queen.

The dragúnsídhe grimaced. “Just need some air.”

The Verdant Queen seemed to accept that, but she didn’t stop following, and Völsung didn’t make her. It wasn’t long before they left the passageways of Völsung’s castle and stepped out into the mountainside woods, binking in the ruddy sunlight filtering through the trees. On one side, the earth fell away into a rocky ravine, water far below glittering with the last snatches of sun.

Out of the corner of her eye, Völsung saw the Verdant Queen’s tense shoulders ease. The dryad always seemed more content when surrounded by her element.

“They do not understand,” the Verdant Queen said, after a long pause to sigh at the setting sun. “They play games of one-upmanship when their lives are at stake. If war comes, none of these tariffs or mercenary exchanges or border disputes will matter. All the kingdoms of Cill Mórinis must work together. We’ve told them. Why do they still not understand?”

The dragúnsídhe rubbed her temples, the different sides of her mind conflicting. “They will matter, but their context will be different. Tariffs will help direct our combined economies to aid in the war effort, our mercenaries’ loyalty has to be immune to Tartessos gold, and each ruler must help the other protect their borders. But they refuse to accept this way of thinking, unable to see the larger picture. We are commanders whose troops will not listen to them.”

“We are mother sheep whose lambs mill around while the wolves prowl. It is all so petty.” The Verdant Queen shook her head. Her long amber hair, the same colour as the sunset, rippled like a banner. She kept moving, walking deeper into the woods, away from their responsibilities. “You remember the last time.” It wasn’t a question.

It would have been impossible to forget the dark age. The memories were permanently etched upon the dragúnsídhe’s mind just as the land still bore the scars of battle. The forests and swamplands were littered with ruined castles and cities, torn down, forgotten and overgrown. The ravines that now criss-crossed the land, flowing with babbling rivers — the lifeblood of the Cill Mórinis economy — were created when the earth had been torn asunder by magic, both of the demons and spirits. The very existence of dragúnsídhe like Völsung was a relic of that war, a desperate attempt to retain even a glimmer of a fallen dragún’s power.

Most dragúnsídhe had gone insane after the war.

“Yes, but unlike last time, the two of us and the others from that time, know what must be done. The first blow will be painful, perhaps crippling, but it must be borne so the sídhe and spirits alike will listen to us, to the memory of the land. For now, all we can do is prepare the salve and sharpen our blades.”

“You are so optimistic. I cannot… All I can think is that Cill Mórinis will suffer so greatly while it waits for them to learn. Mortal sídhe should never rule. They are too young, too ignorant.”

The sunlight that flickered through the leaves above began to darken as they continued on their walkabout, Völsung’s castle long out of sight. “The seasons change for a reason.”

The corner of the Queen’s mouth twitched up. Caught out by her own philosophy. “They do. But you left that meeting, the same as I did.”

“The birds move away for the winter. Besides, sometimes I just need to get lost in the forest.”

“That, I can understand.” The Verdant Queen sighed. “And like the birds, we must return. We have diplomacy to do, and kingdoms to lead. We will be missed if we are gone long.” She took a deep breath of the evening air, then turned and began to head back the way they came.

A minute later, she stopped abruptly. “This is not the right path. We should have passed a young goldenwood sapling.”

A sudden realization hit Völsung: it had become disturbingly quiet and dark. The birds had stopped chirping, the wind had ceased to rustle the leaves. The darkness was not the cool blue darkness of oncoming night, but a deadening grey, as though the color and light were being drained from their surroundings. She could scarcely see more than a dozen trees ahead, and the darkness was creeping in, closing on them from every angle. There was an acrid taste to the monochromatic air — a taste she was intimately familiar with. “Dimensional magic.”

The darkness rushed forward and swallowed them up.

summary: a summoner elf queen with a dragon soul, and her summonee beautiful dryad queen.

(Edit: We vote for the Ancient Castle Feuerflügel)