*sm_save 0 | false | Start of Flashforward
"${name}!"

The memories fall away...

[b]The Court of the Duchess Hurstott[/b]

You look up and Tarson says, "Mind your manners."

He's not an imposing figure in the least. The ebony skin of his frail body is peppered with age-spots and covered only by a wrinkled kilt. His bowed legs come together sharply as bony feet stuffed into tattered straw-soled slippers. His bald head has been fried to leather from decades of sun. But you've taken his gruff orders for six years and it's a hard habit to break.

Tarson nods his rough-skinned head towards the duchess and you see that she is staring at you, smiling, waiting to have your attention.

The duchess is a tall, plump middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks. A magnificent tiara is perched in her volumous hair and her limbs and digits are adorned with myriad jewelry. She wears an array of silks that are quite flattering to her curvy form and a pair of beautiful crushed-satin slippers on her disproportionally small feet.

Now she is fanning herself with her hand again and eyeing you with raised eyebrows and mouth agape.

"Well!" she exclaims, "I suppose if ${heshe} [i]must[/i] be naked, ${heshe} should be grateful at least that ${sheis} rather fetching just so!"

Tarson's emaciated fingers grasp at the tarnished brass torque around his wrinkled neck and he shifts his gaze between you and the duchess. He jerks his head, signaling you to reply.

*PAGE_BREAK

These will be your first real words to another person — outside of Tarson — in [b]six[/b] years. The moment seems both significant and meaningless; like the lives of rabbits. All that time in the tower has left you...

*FAKE_CHOICE
	#...naive and deferential: You had little opportunity to learn anything outside tranquility.
		*SET naive true
		*SET social %-10
		*SET synergy %+10
		"Thank you, ma'am," you say, bowing your head slightly to her.

		Tarson smiles, showing off the few teeth that remain in his mouth.

	#...irreverent and sarcastic: Being snarky with the selfish wizard was one of your few joys.
		*SET snarky true
		*SET social %+10
		*SET synergy %-10
		"Geez, lady, could you [i]be[/i] any more creepy?"

		Tarson frowns at you and looks back to the duchess with a thin-lipped smile.

	#...lively and mischievious: Your adolescent apetite was never checked by responsibilities.
		*SET lively true
		*SET social %+10
		*SET synergy %+10
		"You got good taste, duchie! But I guess that's obvious given the belly on ya," you say, snickering.

		Tarson frowns at you and looks back to the duchess with a thin-lipped smile.

	#...bitter and misanthropic: No one ever looked for you. No one came to help.
		*SET bitter true
		*SET social %-10
		*SET synergy %-10
		"Stuff your mush, old woman. I'm not here to be gawked at like an animal."

		The duchess seems to pay no attention to your answer but Tarson draws his wild eyebrows together and scowls at you.

The duchess says, "Well, I'm very sorry to hear of your — curse or whatever — but I'm very glad to have your help in returning my dear [b]Retunine[/b] to me. He's a very sweet man, you know, but he's become befuddled by evil magics in some sort of evil cape... of some evil sort... or something! I don't know much of it, to be honest, as all this magic nonsense is quite exhausting."

"You need not worry any longer, madam, ${name} is happy to help and ${sheis} well-trained, I assure you."

You look to Tarson, wondering how and why he would lie so blatantly since he's only taught you a single stupid spell that you'd rather never use.

The duchess doesn't seem to notice your surprise and simply says, "Good!"

"Such a dangerous undertaking cannot be considered, of course, without some reward in mind. You see, $!{name} is not only my apprentice, but my spouse as well."

"Oh? Is that so?"

Tarson turns to you again. The wizard is several decades older than you and is certainly not a conventionally handsome man, so you can understand why the duchess would doubt his word that the two of you are married.

However, it was true: even despite his age, appearance, and selfish and lecherous nature, you did eventually agree to marry him after you were afflicted with the curse of the sandals. The reason was because...

*fake_choice
	#...after a time, you saw past his faults and you genuinely fell in love with him.
		*set wizardlove true
		Love is weird that way. You don't believe Tarson feels quite the same love for you as you do for him but the only love you could give such a man would need to be unconditional anyway. You smile and tell the duchess the two of you are very happily married. You show her the copper band on your left ring finger.

	#...you hoped becoming his spouse would motivate him to find a way to lift your curse.
		Unfortunately, it didn't seem to motivate him in the slightest even when you begged him directly. There was no reasoning with him — Tarson always does just what he wants and no more or less than that. Still, you are married, so you tell the duchess that it is indeed true. You show her the copper band on your left ring finger.

	#...he took you in and you felt you owed it to him to say yes to marriage when he asked.
		You wonder if you'll ever feel like you've repaid his generousity even as you endure his self-centerness and disregard. Hopefully, one day you will feel free of the debt, but for now you tell the duchess the two of you are indeed married. You show her the copper band on your left ring finger.

	#...getting closer to him might have helped you learn the mystery to his magical power.
		Unfortunately, he safeguarded his secrets jealously and you learned nothing at all. His stinginess knows no bounds and his reticent nature is stronger even than his magic. Still, you are married, so you tell the duchess that it is indeed true. You show her the copper band on your left ring finger.

"While we are both eager to help you, madam, we must also both brave the pain of separation and the danger of the quest as well. Should I lose ${himher}, I would lose myself as well."

*IF not(wizardlove) and not(naive)
	You groan at Tarson's faux sentiment. The duchess doesn't seem to notice.

"Oh, I understand completely! Being away from my dear Retunine wounds me greatly, body and soul."

Tarson nods. "Tis a terrible thing to endure, madam, when one's love is afar."

"Of course you shall have whatever I have to give in thanks. No matter! So, it seems as good as done, doesn't it? All we need is my guard-captain - where is she?! - and you'll be on your way immediately, my brave ${boygirl}, so that you may swiftly return my Retunine to me and return to your good husband, the wizard, as well!"

*PAGE_BREAK

Moments later, the doors behind you swing open and an atheltic elf woman wearing a glittering chainmail chestpiece, a leather skirt, and plated leather boots strides into the room. Her arms and legs are bare, as is her stomach, and they are well-muscled under smooth sunkissed skin.

She gives both you and Tarson a cursory inspection. There's a sharp look to her eyes, nose, and of course her ears but even more so to her smile. Even her blue-black pixie-cut hair is shorn at a keen angle.

"How may I be of service, ma'am?" she asks of the duchess.

"This is ${name}," the Duchess Hurstott replies, "and ${heshe} will be accompanying you on the quest to free my dear Retunine from his... curse or whatever. You are to leave immediately! And return victorious! And be rewarded and we'll have a feast and such things. Oh, but stop by the inn and rent a few roughians for journey. Three, I think, should suffice. Have the treasurer dispense the funds. Now, goodbye and good luck!"

The Duchess Hurstott waves her hand in dismissal and the guards escort you and the rest of the party out of the chamber.

*PAGE_BREAK
*SET oferi true

The guards shut the large doors after ushering you out, leaving you and Tarson along with the guard-captain in the grand hallway.

"Perhaps some trousers are in order if you wish to go adventuring today," the burly elf says.

*FAKE_CHOICE
	#"It's because of this curse, you see..."
		*IF naive
			*SET arrpee +10
		You start to tell Oferi why you have no trousers — and indeed no clothing at all — but the old wizard holds up his hand for you to stay silent.

	#"Yeah SORRY I left my pants in my other pants."
		*SET dig_oferi %+10
		*IF snarky
			*SET arrpee +10
		Oferi chuckles, shakes her head, and looks away.

	#"Good idea. Wanna share yours?" [i]*wiggle eyebrows*[/i]
		*SET dig_oferi %+10
		*IF lively
			*SET arrpee +10
		Oferi chuckles, shakes her head, and looks away.

	#"Maybe worry about your own damn problems, lackey."
		*SET dig_oferi %-10
		*IF bitter
			*SET arrpee +10
		Oferi scowls. "Keep taunting me and trousers will be the least of your worries, [i]child[/i]."

	#Keep quiet

Tarson explains the curse of your sandals to Oferi. He emphasizes, "$!{heshe} can touch no item that may even be misconstrued as clothing lest it turn to ash. But not to worry, ${hisher} necklace protects ${himher} from the heat and the cold alike."

Your hand instinctively reaches up to touch the gold choker around your throat. It's become such a part of you that you often forget it's even there.

"I see. Well, ${hisher}... [i]condition[/i] is certainly going to prove a distraction." She looks you over again but it's difficult to determine the meaning behind her smirk.

Oferi is as tall and graceful as any elf and distinctively fit as well. She makes for a striking person with her cutting features and direct manner. You feel...

*fake_choice
	#...nothing. She's just another person you don't know.
		First impressions are over-rated. You don't make snap decisions about people and she's not an exception.
		
		Oferi seems to pick up on your indifference but she doesn't drop her smirk. 
	#...hopeful. You think you easily could be friends.
		*SET dig_oferi %+10
		*IF naive
			*SET arrpee %+10
		You've always taken to people with strong personalities and a little bit of snark is icing on the cake. The two of you will be chums in no time.
		
		Oferi catches your smile. There's a glimmer in her eyes, maybe, but she turns away too quickly to be sure. 
	#...impressed. Who wouldn't be inspired by such a personage?
		*SET dig_oferi %+10
		*IF naive or lively
			*SET arrpee %+10
		She knows her place, is comfortable with herself, and radiates professionalism and dignity (but with a good helping of snark). She's a rare breed indeed.
        
		Oferi catches your smile. There's a glimmer in her eyes, maybe, but she turns away too quickly to be sure. 
	#...jealous. A lot of what you want, this bitch has got.
		*SET dig_oferi %-10
		*IF bitter or snarky
			*SET arrpee %+10
		Her self-satisfaction reeks as bad as a troll's burp and the way she flaunts her body and status is sickening.

		Oferi catches your look but her smirk only broadens in response. 
	#...repulsed. Everything about her rubs you the wrong way.
		*SET dig_oferi %-20
		*IF bitter
			*SET arrpee %+10
		Her self-satisfaction reeks as bad as a troll's burp and the way she flaunts her body and status is sickening.
	
		Oferi catches your look and lets out a soft snort. 
	#...attracted. Your heartbeat is quickened by her smile.
		*SET dig_oferi %+20
		Strong, forthright, and clearly comfortable with herself — not to mention that well-toned body. Maybe it's not quite the right word, but she has a serious "hunky" vibe going on.
		
		Oferi catches your smile and, for a moment, you think there's a spark between the two of you — but she turns away too quickly to be sure.

She says, "Let's head out of the village before the dawn breaks proper or we'll find ourselves covered in curious peasants."

Oferi turns on the heel of her bulky boots and starts down the hallway, her chainmail jingling as she goes. Your master hands you your lantern and ushers you to follow her, so you do.

"Remember your training," Tarson calls after you.

Which again is odd, because he never actually taught you anything [i]useful[/i].
*FINISH