The Ballad of Adler Young, Canto 2.5

>Burnside: Put the knife away
>Adler: You need an experienced veteran to drill these recruits into a fighting force

"HEY!" I yelled at Burnside as a yowling mob of elves withdrew, leaving her snarling and slashing in a small clear space bespattered with gore. "Quit carving up my army! It won't do to massacre them before they've even reached Albric Tor!"

"Ain't my fault they's so delicate," Burnside protested. "Somebody needs to toughen 'em up, or they'll have no hope of survival."

"I need them to survive their training without being permanently injured," I insisted. "Put the knife away and switch to something blunt."

"Don't see no point in that," she grumbled as she stowed the blade in her Elfintory.

Adler > Looking at the vial again, you feel a terrible sense of premonition. as if you have no choice but to use it
Adler, remember to ask the Duchess about proper handling procedures for the Plague of Battles. And also ask for an antidote in case if anything goes wrong.
Duchess, explain to Adler that there is no actual antidote

I reached into my own Elfintory and nervously fingered the phial of Plague of Battles. I had a terrible, ominous feeling just carrying this stuff around. Nervously I approached the Duchess of Daisies, who was still re-packing the War Chest.

"Um, about this Plague of Battles," I whispered. "How dangerous is it, exactly? Should I worry about it leaking in my Elfintory?"

"The container is magicked so's it can only be opened on purpose," the Duchess grunted.

"How exactly is it used? I mean, if I was going to use it ..."

"You pull the stopper out and drip two drops on the tip of an arrow. Don't get any of it on yourself. Then you'll wanna shoot that arrow right away, because the potion starts releasin' vapors which you don't wanna breathe. Shoot as far as you can; gauge your target distance beforehand. You'll also wanna be upwind of the target and preferably uphill since the vapor is like a heavy fog which tends to settle in low spots. Catch the enemy in a valley and it'll make short work of 'em, but don't stick around to watch. Shoot and skedaddle. Get as far away as you can, quick as you can. Even after the fog clears, the Plague of Battles will still be in the corpses and the ground, so don't go back for plunder. Anybody pokin' around in a field where this stuff was used'll just stir it up and catch the Plague their own selves. Takes a long time for it to lose its potency."

"Is there any antidote?"

"Nope."

"That's .. that's insanely irresponsible," I gasped.

"Wouldn't be much of a weapon if there was an effective defense against it," Catherine scoffed. "A quick-thinkin' magick user could whip up a barrier to keep it out, or a wind to blow it away I reckon .. but by the time they knew what it was they'd have already breathed it and caught the battle frenzy. And there ain't no castin' spells in a battle frenzy."

I couldn't think of any reply to that, so I peeked over Catherine's shoulder into the chest.

>Adler: Insist on wearing some of Irenaeus' regalia. That actually fits.
> Duchess: Shrug and produce a...

"There's got to be a piece of Irenaeus' regalia in there that I can wear," I murmured. "Come on, I'm his heir and I'm supposed to be leading an army. I need some powerful token of my Imperial lineage."



"Fine, here," the Duchess sighed, holding an object out toward me. "This is most likely the only thang what ain't the wrong size for you. Use it well."

"A tail comb?" I exclaimed. "How many of those things did Irenaeus have?"

"Every fluffy-tailed elf I know has a couple extry ones to spare," Catherine shrugged.

"Yes, but Irenaeus had no tail!" I retorted.

"He had one when he started, and afterwards he wore a fake tail for a while, which I'm sure needed combin' same as a real one. Do you want this here ancetral relic or not?"

"I'll take it," I grumped, stuffing the tail comb into my Elfintory and stomping back into the Listening Post.

Alright, let's stop pussyfooting about it and finally ditch the velvet dork suit

"If you're going to command a rebel army as a Claimant to the Throne, you need to look more regal," Ms. Thomson confronted me as soon as I entered the room. "Dispense with your satin Princely Attire, and forget the regalia of an Ambassador to the Antglade. The Sisterhood has authorised me to present you with this elegant, noble jacket which will inspire awe and admiration in friends and enemies alike."



I put on the new jacket and admired its classy lines and comfortable fit. This was certainly a step up from my old Dork Suit!

"Ah, you cut quite a dashing figure in that, Your Highness," Thomson sighed dreamily. "Now, surely, your troops will follow you anywhere."

"Whoah," SALV Fofox concurred. "Lookin' totally hot there, Prince Adler!"

>The Marching Bagflute Players is significant. Very significant. Terrifyingly significant. Not sure if it bodes well or ill, but it bodes something.
>The child with the helmet is amongst the soldiers. They seem to think he's important because of the helmet.
Army > still eating and drinking, the army march towards albric tor "see ya at the party adler!" someone yelled as they marched off. The music follows with them
Adler and his staff, be surprised at how easily the soldiers started obeying orders issued by the "diminutive commander".

Meanwhile, the baglute music outside got louder and the army began to chant: "THREE CHEERS FOR THE LITTLE COMMANDER! HIP HIP ... HOORAY!!"

A small voice which I could have sworn sounded just like Lem Junior shrieked excitedly: "Let's march on Albric Tor, fellers, an' kick their Imperial butts!"

The rest of the voice's declarations were drowned out by more cheering and raucous baglutes.

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Spoiler
Around the other end of the building:



"That bold young elflet," Griff croaked mechanically while Scuti Preston dangled from its backside. "He has Fuma's gift of command. He would make a suitable host for me, one far better than this ungainly Antglade contraption."

"Wait, Sire," Alice Chetsweeks whispered. "Be not so quick to discount the heir of Irenaeus."

Albric Tor > Be eerily dead silent as the army rolls in. where is everyone?

Alder's army > Be confronted by royal shrub guards, Shrubs! Bloody everywhere. menacingly swaying in the breeze and... not much else...

>Adler:Oh, that kid is good, real good. You'd be annoyed if you weren't just so darn impressed. Maybe he can be useful for something.
>Adler: Another hearty, sinister giggle. Mind that it doesn't become a habit, though.

I honestly can't tell whether Griff means Adler or Lem Junior with "bold elflet".

Or Alice with "heir of Ireneaus" dun dun dun!

>Adler: Regard Lem Junior dubiously.
>Lem Junior: CHAAAAAAAAARGE!
>Duchess: Fiddle with a bottle of elderberry wine.

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SpoilerIf you want to watch me drawing the previous update and hear me blathering on interminably about all the minutiae of my creative process, well HUDALALEIGH! Here's your chance.

https://youtu.be/JwBljCLMuS8

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Spoiler The drawing process looks interesting... And frankly, I simply don't get how can anybody draw that accurately and quickly. Or that could be just because of my complete lack of an artistic talent...
Questions:
Just at what point do you draw the images? Just before you update, or before? And when do you start coming up with the content? How often do you change your mind about the plot? Have you ever drawn something that you decided to scrap later? And will you reveal more about your creative process?

Adler, go convince the army that they are not ready to attack just yet.
Lem Junior, try to convince the army that they should attack en masse (is this even the correct term?) immediately, to take the enemy by surprise.
Schism, occur.

Lemuel, look with great pride upon your son.

Alice called Scuti Preston her "Sire". Is that as in "Ruler", or "Father"? Or maybe even both?

Adler, remember to check your new possessions for enchantments. Discover quite a bit of them, of many different effects.

Fifi, be in awe of Adler. Recite to him several of your favourite passages from the Book of Saint Reynard. Add a couple lines from the Foxspell for good measure.


Percy, wonder into a cave. Cave, be inhabited. Inhabitant, be far too depressed to care about the intruder.

(HSH Prince Adler) Pause: what would Roland make of the Plague of Battles?
(HSH Prince Adler) For that matter, what would Estvan make of it?
(HSH Prince Adler) Battle an urge to speak to Roland and get his advice.
(Miz Lem) Be very proud of your lil' un, even if he's not very well-behaved.
(I&RA Spy) Lurk. Take notes.
(Her Grace CO'D) Finish packing up the trunk. Find a memento of a long-ago love.
(Her Grace CO'D) Battle an urge to rage, since he died in the Antglade War. (From a Siege Beetle-weakened tower falling on him.)
(Fifi Fofox) "Help" by "smoothing out" Adler's new uniform.
(Thomson) Get riled up by how Fifi is "helping."
(Fifi Fofox) Gekker.
(Army-Mob) Start to slow down, as the Persockity Vitality wears down.
(Strange Sign in the Early Night Sky) Be seen.

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Albric Tor > Be eerily dead silent as the army rolls in. where is everyone?

Alder's army > Be confronted by royal shrub guards, Shrubs! Bloody everywhere. menacingly swaying in the breeze

I really like this but can't use it yet. Remind me again when the army actually reaches the outskirts of Albric Tor.

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I simply don't get how can anybody draw that accurately and quickly

The quickness is an illusion. My time-lapse camera has an adjustable frame rate, which in this case compressed each hour of actual time into three minutes of video.

Just at what point do you draw the images? Just before you update, or before? And when do you start coming up with the content?

After pondering the forum commands for a week, I decide generally what is going to happen in the update and think about what images I'll need. I usually draw the pictures the day before I post them, or I'll draw them in the morning and post in the evening of the same day. If by "content" you mean the text of the update, I write that immediately before posting. I'll upload the images to Photobucket first, and paste the links into a text file in the order I want them to appear based on my mental outline of the update. Then I come to Eagle-Time and copy the commands I want to use, and paste them into the relevant places in the text. Then I start writing dialogue. Some shuffling and re-arranging takes place, because as the dialogue starts to flow, the arrangement of images and comments might make a different kind of sense.

How often do you change your mind about the plot?

Because the story appears in installments, I don't have the luxury of being able to change it. I can juggle elements and revise while I'm writing, but once it's posted I have to stick with what I have written.

Have you ever drawn something that you decided to scrap later?

A few times, but not often. In the video you might notice at the end that I drew the desk with the skull on it over to the right in the panel where Adler is modeling his new jacket. I ended up cropping that out because it was a bad composition and the skull was irrelevant to the story events at that moment.

Fifi, be in awe of Adler. Recite to him several of your favourite passages
(Fifi Fofox) "Help" by "smoothing out" Adler's new uniform.
(Thomson) Get riled up by how Fifi is "helping."

"You know what the Foxspell says," Fifi murmured as she sidled up next to me. "Verily, a vixen goeth crazy for a sharp-dressed tod. Elves don't lie! You'll like totally look your best though, if you smooth out all of the wrinkles. Here, stand up straight and I'll like, help you and stuff."



She reached around me and started rubbing her hands over my jacket .. and rubbing something soft against my back, in an obvious effort to work some Wiles.

"So smooooth," she whispered longingly in my ear.

.. was it just me, or was it starting to get hot in here?

"Knock it off, SALV," Ms. Thomson fumed. "This is not at all appropriate. And besides, titillating the Prince is MY official responsibility."

"You should like, delegate," Fifi suggested, letting go of me and primly straightening her jacket.

>Adler:Oh, that kid is good, real good. You'd be annoyed if you weren't just so darn impressed.
>Adler: Regard Lem Junior dubiously.
they are not ready to attack just yet.
Lemuel, look with great pride upon your son.
(Miz Lem) Be very proud of your lil' un

I scurried out onto the porch to get some fresh air, and came up short behind Lemmy and Salmonella.

"Is," I stammered in astonishment. "Is that kid leading my army off on an expedition?"

"That's my boy!" Lemmy exclaimed with fatherly pride.

"He's chock full of misguided enthusiasm," Salmonella sighed dreamily. "It's one of the things I liked about his poppa."

>Lem Junior: CHAAAAAAAAARGE!
Lem Junior, try to convince the army that they should attack en masse immediately, to take the enemy by surprise.
(Army-Mob) Start to slow down, as the Persockity Vitality wears down.

"COME ON, FELLERS!" Lem Junior yelled as he marched down the forest road. "If we hit Albric Tor all of a sudden with overwhelmin' numbers we can take 'em by surprise an' be in the gates afore they even knowed what hit 'em!"

The baglutes stopped playing. The Army began to visibly droop and shuffle its feet.

"FELLERS!" Lem Junior insisted. "C'mon! FORWARD! CHARGE! ADVANCE!!"

The Army muttered and swayed uneasily.

"What's wrong with them?" I asked. "They seemed so enthusiastic to follow his orders a minute ago."

"They's just crashin' from that Persoc-Itoome spiked Usquebaugh," Duchess Catherine replied, from where she was kneeling, still packing the War Chest. "Persockity Vitality is great while it lasts, but the Netherhells of it is, it don't ever last long enough. Leaves a body feelin' mighty depleted when it wears off, too."

(Her Grace CO'D) Finish packing up the trunk. Find a memento of a long-ago love.
he died in the Antglade War. (From a Siege Beetle-weakened tower falling on him.)

"Alas," she continued, in a suddenly wistful tone which I had not heard her use before. "Poor Vortigern."

"Who's Vortigern?" I asked, moseying over toward her.

"Just a feller I knew back in the days afore the Antglade fell," Catherine sighed. "He was a commander in our militia. By the Lady, what a dashin' officer he made! I reckon you could say we was sweeties. We woulda got married just as soon as I got rid of the Duke, but damned ol' Silverbrush's beetles made a tower fall on him, and then we lost the war, and there was a lotta other stuff to worry about. This here string o' teeth is all that's left to remember him by. I used to wear 'em til I decided there weren't no use mopin' about the dead no more. They been in this chest for, oh, I don't know how many years now. Good ol' Vortigern. I miss him. Seems strange I ain't even thought about him in a long time though."

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Spoiler

I honestly can't tell whether Griff means Adler or Lem Junior with "bold elflet".
Or Alice with "heir of Ireneaus" dun dun dun!
Alice called Scuti Preston her "Sire". Is that as in "Ruler", or "Father"? Or maybe even both?
(I&RA Spy) Lurk. Take notes.

"Careful how you address me," Griff whispered. "There may be spies about."

"Perhaps it would be best to draw them into the open," Alice whispered back. "An unseen enemy is a far greater threat than a visible one. I want to know who ordered the Ixies to attack us. Someone here in this camp is dangerously Unseelie."

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Spoiler

Percy, wonder into a cave. Cave, be inhabited. Inhabitant, be far too depressed

Percy le Gobelet was entranced by a mournful voice singing:

I left my home in Athstead,
Headed for the Dachsmark fjord.
But now I feel forgotten by Fuma
And really unbelievably bored.
So I'm perched on the pier in the fjord,
Observing the ebb of the tide.
Perched on the pier in the fjord,
Squandering days.



He peered cautiously into the cave from whence the voice was issuing, and the song stopped.

"What you doin' here, son?" the voice murmured from the shadows.

>Duchess: Suddenly become very hostile over someone seeing you be so wistful.
>Burnside: Be up to something hilariously macabre.
>Adler: Mayhaps interview a few of your soldiers. Find out how loyal they are to you. It would help if you had a few planted sneaky eyes and ears of your own.
>Percy and Cave Dweller: Immediately become drinking buddies.

>Adler: What happened to the Duke anyway? Whether his passing was due to martial or marital causes makes a big difference in your plans!

(Mini-Mob Army) Find that your voices are now rather tinny and high-pitched. Cry.
(Lem, Junior) Discover that "your" army is smaller than you are. Cry.
(HG CO'D) Think of Vortigern. Cry.
(Fifi Fofox) Be frustrated at Ms. Thomson's interference in your fun. Cry.
(Ms. Thomson) Lead HSH Prince Adler away for a bit of "instruction."
(Griff) Sneak around to where the duo are. Consider the opportunities for duplicate tailing.
(HSH Prince Adler) Go along with Ms. Thomson, since you are a bit tired.
(HSH Prince Adler) Have an uncanny feeling you're being watched.
(Marshal of Faerie) Give a status report to HM King Estmere.
(King Estmere) Be rather impatient, since you're very, very, very busy.

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Spoiler If those drawings took you an hour, I would still call it quick.

Adler, ask the Duchess what those teeth originally belonged to.
Duchess, tell Adler WHO those teeth originally belonged to.
Teeth, do not actually belong to Vortigern (as in, they didn't come from his jaws).

Army, rest. Advance again once the Persoc-Itoome low ends. Get bogged down again almost immediately for a completely different, yet completely trivial reason.

Spy, send a covert message back to Albric Tor.
Message, be dismissed on the account of being too ridiculous.

Percy, approach the singer. Offer to help in exchange for information. Prove to be an effective psychotherapist.
Singer, be too depressed at first to care about Percy being lowfolk. Then gain a new respect for him as he helps you.

Scuti Preston, attempt to activate your new body's "flight" function. Fail miserably due to a lack of maintenance of a crucial component.

>Duchess: Suddenly become very hostile over someone seeing you be so wistful.
>Adler: What happened to the Duke anyway? Whether his passing was due to martial or marital causes makes a big difference in your plans!
(HG CO'D) Think of Vortigern.
Adler, ask the Duchess what those teeth originally belonged to.

"So, uh .. what ever happened to the Duke of Daisies anyway?" I asked hesitantly, thinking that the asnwer would greatly affect my future dealings with the Duchess. "And whose teeth are those? Vortigern's?"



"They'll be yours if'n you don't quit hasslin' me," Catherine snarled. "Go on, shoo! Scat! Quit bein' so dang nosy, and just let a poor ol' femme reminisce in peace."

(Ms. Thomson) Lead HSH Prince Adler away for a bit of "instruction."
(HSH Prince Adler) Go along with Ms. Thomson, since you are a bit tired.

"Come with me, Your Highness," Ms. Thomson suggested as she gently took hold of my arm. "With your army momentarily incapacitated, now is the perfect opportunity for me to give you some lessons in leadership and command. At any rate, it is high time I started performing my official duties."

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(Griff) Sneak around to where the duo are. Consider the opportunities for duplicate tailing.
Scuti Preston, attempt to activate your new body's "flight" function. Fail miserably due to a lack of maintenance of a crucial component.

"Those two are up to something," Griff remarked as he watched Thomson and me stroll into the forest.

"Venery would be my first guess," Alice replied with a shrug.

"I am going to follow them and observe," Griff decided.

"If that's what you are into, Sire," Alice commented drily.

"The femme spoke of leadership lessons. I want to hear what she has to say. I believe this body can fly, if I just engage this cam -"

He flapped his wings a few times, and then there was a loud snap followed by a metallic ping.



"Damn," Griff squawked. "This device has not been properly maintained. I think a cotter pin rolled into the grass over there. See if you can find it."

"Even if I could, what would be the point?" Alice inquired laconically.

(Lem, Junior) Discover that "your" army is smaller than you are.
Army, rest. Advance again once the Persoc-Itoome low ends.

Meanwhile, Lem Junior was haranguing the troops.

"Y'all worms!" the young possum bellowed. "Wallerin' on the ground like a buncha worms! Git up! March! Albric Tor ain't gonna sack itself!"

"Ssshhh," MacBrock shushed. "The city'll be there still after we've had a wee kip. Bide a while, Skipper, a wee while while we all west ... sweet west, sweet swumber ..."

"Dad-gum disgustin," Lem Junior snorted. "Cain't hold yer Usquebaugh, ya upland softies."

>Burnside: Be up to something hilariously macabre.

"Don't you fret none, honey," Burnside enthused as she rounded the corner of the building. She carried an enormous platter laden with steaming hunks of unnaturally juicy meat. "I got good news what'll put your army back on its feet in two shakes: I done made us some BARBECUE!!"

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Have an uncanny feeling you're being watched.
Give a status report to HM King Estmere.
Spy, send a covert message back to Albric Tor.

"Und zo," SALV Chesswick mused as she stared into a scrying orb. "It vould zeem dot der ancient Meisterscuti is still alive und pilotink ein broken-down old griffin automaton. Der Duchess uff Daisies is vorkink hand-in-paw mit der Prince. Adler has made ein midget marsupial his top general but der army is lazy und undiscplined. Und our agent, SALV Fofox, is zomehow unable to out-floozy der Zisterhood ungulate. I knew I should haff taken dot assignment myzelf."

"How much of this are we going to tell the Marshal, Auntie?" SALV Silverbrush asked.

"How much of it is useful und not completely silly, liebchen?" SALV Chesswick replied.

>Adler: Discover that the lesson is less about leadership and more about female anatomy, particularly hers.
>Thomson: Now that the two of you are alone and no-one is observing you lest they be thought a peeping pervert, whisper the secret message you've been waiting to deliver to him. Mavis says hi.

""I am going to follow them and observe," Griff decided.
"If that's what you are into, Sire," Alice commented drily"

:D

>And thus Ms. Thomson transforms from a mild mannered, weapon obsessed legal consultant to the living embodiment of every drill sergeant to ever exist. Complete with costume change.
>Lessons: begin.
>Adler: "Gulp."
>Goodness gracious! That barbecue is still alive!

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One of my Patreon patrons (apparently a scholar of some repute) unearthed this courtroom record showing Prosecutorial Floozy Miss Thompson immediately after her successful Pole Dance at the conclusion of Prince Adler's trial.

I include it here merely as an academic curiosity.

(Miss Thomson) Show Adler the ropes. Somewhat literally.
(HSH Prince Adler) Learn some pretty amazing things about yourself.
(Mob-Army) Sleep the sleep of the energy-deprived.
(Lem, Junior) Get bored and play mumblety-peg with your sword.
(SALV Fofox) Vengeance shall be yours! Peruse a Vulpitanian joke catalogue with EVIL intent.
(Ixies, multiple) Fit about here and there, talking in low voices.
(Alice) Ignore the old rule about "if the ant cart's rockin'" and inform Adler of something important.
(Alice) Get something thrown at your head by Miss Thomson.
(Burnside) Wonder if you should have made sides of fried green tomatoes to go with the BBQ.
(News) From the Capital. Arrive. Stir a flurry of activity.
(HSH Prince Adler) Wonder why your pants are so itchy.
(Thomson) Wonder why your dress is so itchy.

The two SALVs, continue watching Adler and his gang.
Vulpitanian Marshal, receive their report. Report, be heavily edited to the point of virtual uselessness. Marshal, supervise the next scrying session yourself. Come the an even more bizarre conclusion. Order that action of some kind be taken immediately.

Fifi, receive some new orders. Misinterpret them completely.

Some of the recovering soldiers, eat Burnside's cooking.
Burnside, proudly inform them of just what they are eating.
Vomit session, commence.
Burnside, feel insulted.

Griff, have another breakdown. Alice, again refuse to help.
Family bickering, result.

>Goodness gracious! That barbecue
(Burnside) Wonder if you should have made sides of fried green tomatoes to go with the BBQ.
Some of the recovering soldiers, eat Burnside's cooking.
Burnside, proudly inform them of just what they are eating.

"Ach, tis a right fine feed ye've put on, lassie," MacBrock chuckled as he licked his chops and selected another juicy morsel from Burnside's platter of barbecue.

"I'm just tickled you like it," the raccoon beamed. "I would've fixed some fried green tomaters to go with it, but I figured there wasn't time, what with the war and all, and y'all was lookin' so tired and listless."

"Well these dainty morsels ha' put the life back intae us, nae doubt," the badger enthused between bites. "Tis delicious! What exactly is this? I've never tasted its like before."

"Oh, just some charbroiled possum lumps I found in that clearing yonder," Burnside admitted with a shrug.

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Meanwhile, in the Capital:

Marshal, receive their report.

"I delivered thy report but the Marshal did not believe me," the Ixie stated. "He gave me an even dirtier look than usual, and declared it was preposterous."

"Ach, tis ein shame he does not trust der likes of you," SALV Chesswick sighed. "But, zen again, perhaps he is vize to be zo cautious."

"He wants to see for himself, firsthand, whatever intelligence thou hast of Adler and his rebel army's activities."

"Very vell. Ve shall prepare to receive him. In der meantime, can you deliver ein message to our agent on der scene?"

"Our network can get it to her in short order," the Ixie affirmed.

"Tell her she has full authorization to help der Scuti to take possession of Prince Adler."

"Is that really a wise step to take, Auntie?" SALV Silverbrush inquired.

"Ve must hedge our bets, liebchen," Alberta replied. "Trust in Der Plan."

In the bushes, not far from the Diplomatic Outpost:

>Adler: Discover that the lesson is less about leadership and more about female anatomy, particularly hers.
>Thomson: Now that the two of you are alone ... whisper ... Mavis
>And thus Ms. Thomson transforms
> Lessons: begin.
(HSH Prince Adler) Learn some pretty amazing things about yourself.

Ms. Thomson sighed and snuggled up against me.

"I thought I was going to teach you something," she purred. "But instead it's you who have taught me. I have heard stories of your illustrious mother's prowess, but surely she did not train you in the Sisterhood's arts?"

"No, I learned it from Sheila Na Gig," I admitted.

"Oh. Well no wonder you were so amazing," Thomson exclaimed, wide-eyed. "You certainly have all the talent you need to take command of your troops and lead them to victory."

"How exactly will my skills at Wiles and venery help me lead an army?" I asked.

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Spoiler

Meanwhile, next to the Diplomatic Outpost:

(Ixies, multiple) Flit about here and there

"Look out, Sire," Alice Chetsweeks snarled as she pointed at a fast-flitting object. "There flies one of those accursed Ixies, doubtless of the same wicked tribe that bombed our caravan and killed Mara and my friend-mate."

"I have a switch here labeled Basilisk Stare," Griff croaked. "Once I get the deplorable beast in my sights, I'll -"

Griff, have another breakdown.

"Confound this broken-down contraption!" Griff squawked angrily as his right eyeball shattered with a pop, a tinkle of broken glass, and a hiss of vapors escaping. "I demand a proper body! Where is Prince Adler?"

"He and his floozy stole off in that direction," Alice pointed.

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A few seconds later, inside the Diplomatic Outpost:

(SALV Fofox) Vengeance shall be yours!
(News) From the Capital. Arrive.
Fifi, receive some new orders.

"I have been sent to relay some new orders to thee from Ambassador Chesswick," the Ixie reported.

"Okay, so like, lay it on me," SALV Fofox replied.

"Um, it was something about giving thee full authorization to take possession of Prince Adler."

"Finally!" Fifi chuckled. "At last, the gloves - and, like a lot of other stuff - can come off."

(Alice) Ignore the old rule about "if the ant cart's rockin'"
The two, continue watching Adler and his gang.
Vomit session, commence.
Burnside, feel insulted.

"Should we really bother the Prince if he is engaged in venery?" Alice asked as the two Scuti ambled innocently around the building.

"It will be the best time to catch him with his guard down," Griff responded pragmatically.

"Good point," Alice concurred.



"Oh my," Alice continued as she beheld the spectacle of the Volunteer Army vomiting on the grass.

"Y'ALL IS TOO DURN PICKY!" Burnside yelled indignantly somewhere behind the regurgitating throng.

"This gaggle of silk-stomached weaklings desperately needs my strong command," Griff declared. "Let's waste no more time."

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Back in the Capital:

Marshal, supervise the next scrying session yourself. Come the an even more bizarre conclusion. Order that action of some kind be taken immediately.

"Excellent work," Theronmyathus rasped as he looked into the scrying orb and beheld the vomiting troops. "This will help to weaken the rebels' resolve and delay their advance. We have time now to strengthen our Shrub patrols along the approaches to Albric Tor. Keep up your sabotage work, and we may not even have to fight them at all. This untrained rabble is not used to the hardships of a campaign. If we play this right, they'll give up long before they come within sight of our walls."

"Never, um, never doubt Der Plan, Herr Marshall," SALV Chesswick replied nervously.

>Hopefully no one steals your clothes.
>Looks like there was something else in that barbecue. Something potent.
>Adler: HEADS UP!
>As many plans and conspiracies against Adler spring all at once- only to collide in a truly spectacular fashion ultimately foiling each other.
>Griff: Your mechanical body is decaying and decaying fast. Everywhere you go you leave a trail of nuts, bolts, and limbs.
>Say Adler, Burnside's behavior may or may not be the result of past traumas coupled with duchess' bad influence. If you were to, say, take her under your wing like a mentor, she might become slightly less psychotic. Or maybe she really is just a complete sociopath. At the very least, it would be good to have a loyal enforcer at your beck and call.

"How exactly will my skills at Wiles and venery help me lead an army?" I asked.

OH I HAVE SOME IDEAS...nevermind

>Griff: Scutify someone prominent to take charge.
>Fifi: Try to scutify Adler, end up scutifying entirely wrong white rump instead.

>Griff: Your mechanical body is decaying and decaying fast. Everywhere you go you leave a trail of nuts, bolts, and limbs.

Something like this, perhaps?:




Alice, go ask the Duchess if she has another mech available.
Another mech, be available, but be in an even worse condition than Griff.

Thomson, obtain something personal from Adler during your venery session, which was your real goal. Deliver it to a mysterious client at first opportunity.

Fifi, do not be another scuti. Instead be a demonic entity from another plain of existence possessing a vulpine shell.

Lem junior, see if the army can be motivated by poking them with your sword. Achieve mixed results.

SALV Silverbrush, propose another approach to the situation. Be taken into consideration by the Marshal.

Marshal, report to your king. Be ridiculed.

>Addler: Once you've somehow escaped all the atempt to posses or kill you sudenly go deadly silent in a surprisingly intense and eerily threatening manner.

>The Ixies working for everyone ? They even told you so. The Scutis trying to betray you, fine, expected even. The vulpitian doing the same, not a big surprise., Being a pawn of about everyone and every side, , By now it's starting to be an habit. But trying to /steal your body ? /Two plots to steal your body at the same time ?

>Addler: Grab Iraneus comb. Time to send a clear and strong message that just because you've been a rather nice guy and let your life being all comedy of errors and hilarious japes so far doesn't mean you don't have a snapping point.

>Addler: Snap.

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Spoiler
Today, August 18th, is the official date of Vulpitanian X-Mess: The second most popular holiday in the Republic, after St. Reynard's Day. Traditionally, gag gifts are exchanged and pies are thrown. Many Vulpitanians complain that the holiday has become too commercial (some stores start putting out X-Mess displays in DECEMBER, for Fuma's sake!) but its popularity endures, especially with young kits.

X-Mess never caught on in the Empire because it smacks too much of Vile Kringlism.