Menacing Magic of Cedelene Torsh

The firelight is fading and the wine bottle is down to the dregs, but I cannot end the evening without telling you one last tale, so bring your chair closer and learn about that legendary lothario, Prince Hunkerio – who debauched debutantes and cavorted with courtesans and waylaid ladies in waiting and made out with all the milk maids ... and even humped a few horses on nights when more promising partners were in short supply. Prince Hunkerio, whose gorgeous face graced the coins of the realm – until lust-crazed women started hoarding them all, punching holes in the top and threading them with ribbons and wearing them as pendants nestled in their heaving bosoms as they dreamed of the royal rapscallion. Prince Hunkerio, who posed for the most famous sculptors in the world, immortalizing his godlike physique in statues housed in the greatest art museums in the world – and the private homes of several wealthy women. And then came [[Cedelene Torsh]]. [[2<-continue]]

Pretty, in an earthy sort of way – the type of flower one finds in the forest but not the garden, with the deceptively delicate beauty of a violet but the spirit of a thistle or cocklebur – and a hint of nightshade in her gaze. [[2<-continue]] (enchant:?page,(text-colour:#c92a2a)+(bg:#fff4e6))

On a blustery day when the warmth was fading from the world but not yet gone, Prince Hunkerio stood in front of Cedelene’s modest, vine-cloaked cottage in the woods west of Alfornaut, clasping her arms one last time as he bid her adieu forever, for he was now betrothed to Merdelenda, a duke’s daughter from Dunslauffen. Cedelene took it well. And to show there were no hard feelings, she... [[offered him a flying carpet so he could rush to his betrothed in record time]] [[offered him a garland of flowers for his betrothed to wear on her wedding day]] [[offered him a farewell toast]] [[stabbed the two-timing son-of-a-bitch in the crotch with a dagger hidden in the garter beneath her gown]]

An excellent choice. Kindly select the materials from which you crafted your carpet. (text-colour:#da77f2)[[Woven from unicorn manes and strands of silk]] (text-colour:#69db7c)[[Woven from faerie hair and flax]]

[[made from enchanted chrysanthemums]] [[made from enchanted rhododendrons]]

[[offer blackberry wine<-serve blackberry wine]] [[offer elderberry wine<-serve elderberry wine]]

Oh, how crude! No self-respecting sorceress would rely on weaponry instead of wiles. And think of the mess all that blood would make on her nice clean floor. [[penance<-For insulting Miss Torsh, you must do penance]]

(set: $unicorn to 1) “I wove it myself,” she said sweetly. He unfurled it and his eyes lit up as he beheld its iridescent splendor. “It’s beautiful! But does it really work?” “Of course.” “I thought flying carpets were just myths.” “No, but they’re exceedingly rare. Witch-weaving is a difficult art to master, and young people are so lazy these days. And the materials are in short supply.” “Oh. ... So how do I make it fly?” “Just lay it on the ground and sit on it cross-legged and say, ‘Rise into the air, with a soft little swish, and take me to the place I wish. To Merdelenda’s side I fly, soaring high in the bright blue sky.’ ” “But the sky is gray today.” “Don’t quibble. It will work. Trust me.” “How do I make it land?” “Land? ... Oh, uh ... no need to worry about that. The carpet will do what it has to do.” “I see. Well thank you, Cedelene. This is a splendid parting gift.” He kissed her fleetingly on the lips and then followed her instructions, and much to his delight the carpet took off just as she promised. As it climbed toward the clouds he looked down at his former lover and waved farewell. But she had turned her back and did not see. [[carpet flew swiftly-hotel<-continue]]

(set: $faeriehair to 1) “I wove it myself,” she said sweetly. He unfurled it and his eyes lit up as he beheld its iridescent splendor. “It’s beautiful! But does it really work?” “Of course.” “I thought flying carpets were just myths.” “No, but they’re exceedingly rare. Witch-weaving is a difficult art to master, and young people are so lazy these days. And the materials are in short supply.” “Oh. ... So how do I make it fly?” “Just lay it on the ground and sit on it cross-legged and say, ‘Rise into the air, with a soft little swish, and take me to the place I wish. To Merdelenda’s side I fly, soaring high in the bright blue sky.’ ” “But the sky is gray today.” “Don’t quibble. It will work. Trust me.” “How do I make it land?” “Land? ... Oh, uh ... no need to worry about that. The carpet will do what it has to do.” “I see. Well thank you, Cedelene. This is a splendid parting gift.” He kissed her fleetingly on the lips and then followed her instructions, and much to his delight the carpet took off just as she promised. As it climbed toward the clouds he looked down at his former lover and waved farewell. But she had turned her back and did not see. [[carpet flew swiftly-temple<-continue]]

Every room a luxury suite, carpeted in yeti fur. Here guests enjoyed sunken gnomestone bathtubs with orichalcum fixtures; and bars stocked with gremlin wine, Abyssinian absinthe, Atlantean aperitifs and other exotic, exorbitantly priced drinks; and furniture upholstered in rich Corinthian leather. The hotel’s lustrous onyx exterior was polished three times a day by “buffing birds” imported from the Wiji Islands at great expense. [[splat<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(bg:red))*Splat!* Prince Hunkerio smashed into the building’s second highest floor, then slid slowly, sickeningly down the hotel’s slick side, leaving a trail of blood and gore behind as the buffing birds squawked their displeasure. (text-colour:black)[[tongue waggers<-continue]]

The town’s tongue-waggers whipped up whispers about the prince’s dalliance with a suspected sorceress – and the uncanny nature of his unexpected death. Those rumors soon reached the ears of the king’s inquisitors, who sent soldiers to Cedelene’s cottage in the woods. They arrived at dawn and pounded on her door with their mailed hands and when she opened it they barged inside, knocking her to the floor, and began ransacking her tidy abode. “What is the meaning of this?” she railed as she tried to rise, but a sergeant with a crescent scar upon one cheek shoved her down again. “Be silent, witch!” (if: $unicorn is 1)[[unicorn hair found<-continue]] (if: $faeriehair is 1)[[faerie hair found<-continue]] (if: $chrysanthemum is 1)[[chrysanthemum found<-continue]] (if: $elderberry is 1)[[elderberry found<-continue]]

The carpet flew swiftly over Alfornaut and Prince Hunkerio gazed down wonderingly at the city, which he had never seen from such a lofty vantage point, marveling at its gleaming domes and shining spires and glittering towers. As he passed over the marketplace, with its gaily colored awnings and milling throngs, the citizenry stared up at him and pointed excitedly and waved and cheered, and when the prince waved back at least a dozen women swooned. As the magic carpet neared the outskirts of the city it started fluttering furiously. The flutters turned into frenetic flaps and the prince flattened himself, grasping the carpet’s sides and holding on for dear life as it began to buck belligerently, like a horse trying to throw its rider. “Take me down!” he cried. “Take me down!” And the carpet obliged him, but not in the way he wished. It flipped over and swerved and swayed until it flung him off, sending him plunging toward the Temple of Thulchulu and its sixty-foot-high spire of emerald crystal. *Ahhhhhh! Splursh!* [[six priests<-continue]]

Six priests hurried out of the temple and stared up at the impaled prince – his sagging limbs swaying in the wind as his blood dripped onto the temple’s domed roof like Satan’s raindrops. The holy men fell to their knees and prayed for the prince’s departed soul, asking almighty Thulchulu to forgive him for this act of desecration. [[tongue waggers<-continue]]

(set: $chrysanthemum to 1) Strolling through the palace gardens with his betrothed, Prince Hunkerio paused to give her the surprise he had secreted within his doublet – a garland of chrysanthemums. He placed it atop her head and her dark eyes glittered with delight. Then she laughed as the garland slipped down, landing on her shoulders. The laugh died as the garland tightened. Like a noose. “Urch!” She clutched it. Tugged. Gasped. Yanked. Choked. Her widening eyes pleaded with her prince. He grabbed the garland and tried to break it, but the intertwined stems and wire would not yield. Merdelenda’s face paled, turned blue, her cries of terror reduced to gurgles. New flowers sprouted from the garland, snaking out on wiry stems to ensnare the prince’s throat, then cinching tight, binding the two lovers in a fatal floral embrace. [[gardener found<-continue]]

Strolling through the palace gardens with his betrothed, Prince Hunkerio paused to give her the surprise he had secreted within his doublet – a garland of rhododendrons. And Cedelene, watching the sickening scene through her crystal ball, waited breathlessly for the garland to expand and fall off Merdelenda’s head and land on her shoulders and tighten into a noose and strangle the bitch. But nothing happened. The fatal flowers failed. And the couple embraced and strolled off hand-in-hand as Cedelene hurled the crystal ball to the floor, muttering: “Shit! I should’ve used the fucking chrysanthemums!” THE END [[made from enchanted chrysanthemums<-try again?]]

The royal gardener found the couple the next morning, lying in the grass next to the snapdragons. At first he thought they were in a romantic clinch so he discreetly retreated. But later, after he trimmed the topiaries, he returned to the spot and saw they were still there, in the exact same position and not moving a muscle, so he drew closer and beheld their faces, frozen in ghastly expressions of utter disbelief and horror. [[funeral<-continue]]

Prince Hunkerio and Lady Merdelenda lay in state for a week, as was the custom, reposing upon the catafalque in closed caskets. By the king’s decree, all floral tributes were banned. [[tongue waggers<-continue]]

They entered her cottage and sat down at the kitchen table, where a bottle of blackberry wine and two long-stemmed glasses sat waiting on a black-and-white checkered cloth. Cedelene poured the wine and raised her glass. “To your health.” The prince clinked his glass to hers and downed its contents. She brought her glass to her lips but did not drink. “Anything wrong?” he said. She stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged. “I prefer to savor it. I’m a sipper, not a gulper.” He grinned. “At least when it comes to wine.” He set down his glass and stood up. “Well I wish I could stay, but I really must be going.” She rose from her chair. He came around the table, took her in his arms and kissed her, not noticing the panic in her eyes as she clamped her lips tightly together, preventing his probing tongue from entering her mouth. He gave her one last caress, then turned and walked out the door, mounted his stallion and rode off down the twisted path leading to the city. And his new love. Cedelene stood in the doorway and waved, a smile frozen on her face as she muttered: “Shit! I must’ve put the poison in the wrong bottle!” [[offer elderberry wine<-try again?]]

(set: $elderberry to 1) They entered her cottage and sat down at the kitchen table, where a bottle of elderberry wine and two long-stemmed glasses sat waiting on a black-and-white checkered cloth. Cedelene poured the wine and raised her glass. “To your health.” The prince clinked his glass to hers and downed its contents. She brought her glass to her lips but did not drink, watching him intently. He coughed. Coughed again. Winced. Leapt to his feet, clasping a hand to his throat. He took a step, wobbled, eyes bulging. “Urgh!” Cedelene rose slowly. “Anything wrong, dearest?” she said sweetly. Panic and incredulity and indignation mingled in his stare. “You ... you poisoned me!” “I did no such thing, Lovandar. The *wine* poisoned you! Actually, it was the sprigs of witch-bush *in* the wine that did the trick.” He reached for her, growling. She nimbly stepped aside. He grasped air and fell flat on his face as her cackle of triumph drowned out his groan of despair. And the rattle of death. [[tongue waggers<-continue]]

(enchant:?page,(bg:#087f5b)) (text-colour:#ffe066)[''You must read this poem, which has nothing to do with the story.''] IKMOCH’S REVENGE As love embedded itself in Cifolta’s heart, vengeance burned a hole in Jiralam’s. She only saw his unflawed face and sculpted body, a well-baked, rakish dish, plying her with wiles, oozing with winning wooings But her senses were bedazzled by his chameleon charm, and as his impeccable, impossible pulchritude blended with her own, and desirous sighs escaped their satiated lips, Jiralam seized the amulet dangling from his damp chest and hurled it from the bed, dashing the magic, reverting, revealing a bloated blob of malformed features “You who shunned Ikmoch and embraced Jiralam, know that I am he! You who lorded your love aloofly, taunting a lowly, lonely, homely man, now share his bed and body! Behold the naked truth, Cifolta, and weep with shock and shame!” And Cifolta clasped her own bright amulet and cast it free from her breast, shedding her gorgeous guise, and a misshapen clump lay beneath Ikmoch, her fleshy mess meshing with his own as laughter wracked their wrinkles And having much in common, the lovers soon were wed, and made many pretty children, who bore no resemblance to their parents (text-colour:#ffe066)[[2<-try again?]]

They found some strands of unicorn hair she had carelessly tossed into a wastebasket, and a black lacquer box containing a gnometal pentagram, some half-melted black candles, a vial of bat’s blood and a small jar of jellied moonbeams. In the law courts of King Acrim XIII, such scant evidence was more than enough to convict her of Practicing Unholy Arts, Casting Dark Spells, Murder and Treason. But she was prepared for this eventuality, so she grasped the six amulets dangling from her neck and recited an escape spell, opening a portal that would transport her through time and space to ... [[titanic<-41.7325° N, 49.9469° W]] [[bermuda<-32.3078° N, 64.7505° W]]

They found some strands of faerie hair she had carelessly tossed into a wastebasket, and a black lacquer box containing a gnometal pentagram, some half-melted black candles, a vial of bat’s blood and a small jar of jellied moonbeams. In the law courts of King Acrim XIII, such scant evidence was more than enough to convict her of Practicing Unholy Arts, Casting Dark Spells, Murder and Treason. But she was prepared for this eventuality, so she grasped the six amulets dangling from her neck and recited an escape spell, opening a portal that would transport her through time and space to ... [[titanic<-41.7325° N, 49.9469° W]] [[bermuda<-32.3078° N, 64.7505° W]]

They found some chrysanthemum petals she had carelessly tossed into a wastebasket, and a black lacquer box containing a gnometal pentagram, some half-melted black candles, a vial of bat’s blood and a small jar of jellied moonbeams. In the law courts of King Acrim XIII, such scant evidence was more than enough to convict her of Practicing Unholy Arts, Casting Dark Spells, Murder and Treason. But she was prepared for this eventuality, so she grasped the six amulets dangling from her neck and recited an escape spell, opening a portal that would transport her through time and space to ... [[titanic<-41.7325° N, 49.9469° W]] [[bermuda<-32.3078° N, 64.7505° W]]

They found some elderberry stains on an apron, and a black lacquer box containing a gnometal pentagram, some half-melted black candles, a vial of bat’s blood and a small jar of jellied moonbeams. In the law courts of King Acrim XIII, such scant evidence was more than enough to convict her of Practicing Unholy Arts, Casting Dark Spells, Murder and Treason. But she was prepared for this eventuality, so she grasped the six amulets dangling from her neck and recited an escape spell, opening a portal that would transport her through time and space to ... [[titanic<-41.7325° N, 49.9469° W]] [[bermuda<-32.3078° N, 64.7505° W]]

[''*Fwiff!* A blue hole about the size of a wagon wheel appeared in the air, and as a soldier cried out in alarm she dove through it and the hole closed after her with a soft pop. She had visualized her desired destination as she cast her spell – a sun-kissed beach on a tropical island full of gaily colored birds, scampering monkeys, exotic fruits and lovely, innocent native boys who would treat her like a goddess and cater to her every whim and desire... “Oh shit!” She must have miscalculated her crystal calibrations, for she now stood upon a far different island – cold and hard, slick and glistening, surrounded by frigid black waters. '' ''An iceberg!'''' (text-colour:#212529)[[only an ounce<-continue]]''] (enchant:?page,(text-colour:#364fc7)+(bg:#e3fafc))

*Fwiff!* A blue hole about the size of a wagon wheel appeared in the air, and as a soldier cried out in alarm she dove through it and the hole closed after her with a soft pop. She stepped out onto a sun-kissed beach on a tropical island full of gaily colored birds, scampering monkeys, exotic fruits and lovely, innocent native boys who treated her like a goddess and catered to her every whim and desire. One balmy night, as she sat on the beach sipping coconut wine while two gorgeous lads fanned her with palm fronds, she gazed languidly into her crystal ball and saw ... “What!” The next morning she teleported out of her glorious island paradise and ventured once more into the foul world of heartless men, seeking... But that tale must wait for another night. THE END

Only an ounce of magic remained in her amulets, so she could not make another portal – not until the crystals returned to full strength. And on a moonless night that could take hours. With chattering teeth she conjured up a little fire and huddled in front of the feeble flames, trying to absorb the weak warmth, her arms wrapped around her shivering body. How long could she last? And then she saw her salvation – a string of lights on the horizon, moving slowly, coming closer. A ship! As she perceived the dark silhouette around the lights she realized the vessel was a steamship, a big one with four funnels. She used the last smidgen of her amulet energy to constrict her fire into a ball and shoot it up into the icy night air, where it burst open like a flare. Then she waited, praying someone would see her distress signal. [[Lo<-continue]]

Lo! The ship was altering course, swinging ponderously toward her. Closer it came. And closer still. Soon she could hear the thrum of the engines and the swish of the water spuming off its bow. And then Cedelene’s joy turned to panic, for the ship was coming straight at her on a collision course, looming large, bearing down. “Are you blind? Steer clear! Slow down!” (text-colour:#ffd43b)[*THUDDUM! SCREEEE!*] The sickening sound of slashed steel assailed Cedelene’s ears as the iceberg tore into the ship’s hull, the impact knocking her on her ass. The ship passed by, slowing swiftly as it began its inexorable descent into the deadly waters of the North Atlantic. THE END