#big props to anyone who can translate it cuz i couldn't

[huffle-dork]

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 13: Fantasy Masks

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix 

Read Swapboys | Read Fantasy Masks | AO3 Link

Prologue | Switch | Stitched | PNPT | Septicheroes Taglist: @brokentimewatch @di-diwata  

Bro is used to falling by now, and used to landing in strange places. But this is the strangest yet. It's a wide open room, filled with boxes and trunks and racks of medieval-looking clothes. The roof above is canvas, stretched over large white support beams that curve gently. This room must be large, but his vision of it is obscured because of all the stuff around. It's cool, but not winter-cold like that world with the kids.

"Hwaet!"

That's... a word? Definitely a voice. Where did it come from?

Bro pushes himself up and looks around in confusion. The fuck is he now? ... a theater maybe? Cuz those look like costumes....

"umm.. hello??" He calls out.

As Bro stands up, one of the racks of clothing is pushed to the side and he is immediately confronted with the tip of a sword. Not a fake plastic sword. Not a metal replica found at a fair or convention. This is a heavy-looking, razor-sharp, thirty-five-inch-long knightly sword.

Bro pushes back as much as he can to get away from the- sword?? A FUCKING SWORD?? "H-Holy shit-"

It's being wielded by a man wearing a waist-length red cloak and a wolf mask... and the rest of the man's clothes are similarly medieval.

"Tshais?" the man says, eyes widening behind the mask. Then he shakes his head. "Ní he, ní é thusa é."

"Dyaki?" Another voice calls, and someone else appears. A man wearing a white tunic-thing and--and the first man covers the other's face before Bro can get a good look. "Gah! Dyaki, cadé aan saolile?!"

"Caor uir tho aghaidh," the first man says. "Níl sé dó Tshais."

The second man quickly pulls on a mask shaped like an owl. "Cadatá aer sil?"

"Níl a fhiasagim! Dheial raigh sé!"

...What the fuck is going on?

Bro can barely tell what's going on as he looks between the two men, "f-fuck I... I can't tell what you're saying- ummm hi? I.. I'm Chase! can you not... point that very sharp and real sword at me please?"

The two men blink in almost comical unison. It's hard to tell what their expressions are under the masks, but it's clear they're just as confused as he is. They look at each other.

"A bhfuil an fies agatcén te anga a bían?" asks the wolf-masked one.

The owl-masked one shakes his head. "Ní aith ním aer shor aer bithé."

The wolf-masked man stares at Bro for a moment more. Then lowers the sword, but does not sheathe it.

"Tá brón yom," he says.

"Dyaki, cén f--"

"Is léir ghaer de mhuentor ann FhaoNaigh é," the wolf insists. "Caith fimid bhaifh measeil. Agus gan ainmneasha, ceimhni?"

The owl winced. "Diar mé oer ash 'Dyaki.'"

"...Foc."

Bro backs up more and keeping ping-ponging between the two men talking, though he doesn't understand anything. It kinda sounds like when his aunts would curse in irish but- also way different. It feels... older. God he wished Alt was here... maybe he knew a translation spell or something.

The wolf-masked one notices his growing confusion. "Tá brón yom," he repeats. He leans closer to the owl and murmurs something that Bro can't hear, then looks back at him. "Iss féid irlaet 'Dyaki' a laoch yom." The man gestured at himself. "'Dyaki.'"

He points at the owl-masked man. "Iss féid irlaet 'Henrik' a thabh aetaer. 'Henrik." The owl inclines his head.

"Cad Iss féid irlinn laoch oer?" The wolf points at Bro.

"Dyaki..." Bro repeats with a slow nod. Then, his eyes light up, "Oh! Henrik!" He smiles, relived. At least they found someone who he... sort of recognized.

The owl--Henrik's eyes widen.

Dyaki looks at him. "A bhfuil aithme oer? Cén shoi a bhfuil aithme aer FhaoNaigh?!"

"Níl aithme!" Henrik protests.

Oh- maybe they know sign? ... it could be worth a try.

Bro tries to sign I'm sorry, I can't understand you. Do you know sign? even if he's a bit clumsy with it.

Then Henrik’s eyes widen further as he sees Bro sign. "An labh raíon sé i láemhi?"

"Ní labh raíon i láemhi é sin a aithmím." Dyaki shakes his head. He finally sheaths his sword... and begins making gestures. It's clearly sing language of some sort, but it's not BSL.

Bro grins bashfully and holds up his hands, "ah okay.... that doesn't work either... shit- ...doesn't my phone have real time translation?” He pulls out his phone and tries to see if it even works.

Bro's phone does indeed work. But in the upper left corner where it usually provides cell bars and WiFi, it simply says No Service.

Bro tsks under his breath, "Of fucking course.. just my luck..."

"Cadé aan saolile?" Henrik steps forward, right up to Bro, and stares at his phone. He reaches out. "An féidi lom yeamháil...?"

"Henrik!" Dyaki looks stunned at the fact that Henrik is reaching for Bro's phone, as if he's committed some social faux pas.

"Féash aer," Henrik says quietly. "Táse shomh ai teash, caithfi mé iarash."

Bro looks at Henrik reaching for the phone and he looks confused but he offers it to him. "Uh- maybe you know where to get some service? Are we just in a bad spot? ... im realizing you can't understand me either but talking gives me comfort-"

Henrik takes the phone gently, like it's made of porcelain, and turns it over in his hands. He seems interested in the buttons and charging port at first, but then notices that the screen responds to touch and eagerly begins swiping back and forth between the home screens.

"Dyaki, féash aer!" he says excitedly. "Is motael aus gloena a lashonn! Aus frea raíonn sé, féash! Ní fhaka mé draíosht marse riam."

"Isé draíosht aan FhaoNaigh," Dyaki mutters. "Tabhair aisdó é."

"Tá, tá." Henrik nods and gives the phone back to Bro. "Rai moith a ghat."

Bro watches them look at his phone with increasing confusion. It’s like… they’ve never seen one before. That’s… really weird. But- technically with the kids they went into the past… What if they went even further?

Bro panics a bit at this thought and stumbles to stand up. “Uh- you all keep saying… FhaoNaigh- I don’t think.., I’m that? I- where is this?” He tries to look around more to see if he can get more hints, taking off his mask and shoving it in his pocket in the meantime. His hair fades back to his regular brown. “I’m not a FhaoNaigh- my name is Chase! I need to- god where’s alt??”

The two men step back, looking surprised and worried at Bro's distress. "FhaoNaigh?" Dyaki repeats, pointing at Bro with confusion.

Bro shakes his head at being called that again.

"Fuaimean séosil o bhfuil sé ará 'Tshais,'" Henrik mutters.

"Is cumalei ndáiríre," Dyaki emphasizes. "Ommm... Lasmuigh?" He points to the side and starts walking in that direction. "Téi lasmuigh?" He gestures for Bro to follow him.

As Dyaki points and directs Bro to follow, he slowly does, really trying to look at everything as they walk.

Henrik and Dyaki murmur to each other as they walk, allowing Bro ample time to look at the stuff. All these trunks and boxes and various containers... he doesn't see anything made of cardboard or plastic. These clothes... they're more than medieval-looking, the stitches look hand-done. And sometimes they come across weapons. They all look real. And there is not a firearm in sight.

“What the fuck….” Bro breathes, “please tell me this is just some really convincing re-enactors… or a ren faire… those are fun I like those-“

"Hwaet!"

They've reached the edge of the room. It looks like this place is a massive... dome? The white stone rafters curve down to meet the floor. Dyaki pushes aside a flap in the canvas and again gestures for Bro to follow.

Bro looks around at the dome and squints at it before following after Dyaki again.

Outside is a camp, pitched of tents. Not colorful tents with mesh and fabric. Strong, sturdy tents made of canvas. The sky above is bright blue, and the air is somehow crisper, fresher than Bro has ever breathed before. People wander past, wearing the same medieval clothing and masks as Henrik and Dyaki. There is a rising smoke from a fire in the distance. And surrounding all this are massive white stones. ... No, not stones. Bones. This camp is surrounded by the skeleton of some massive creature.

Bro’s jaw drops as he sees the camp- breathes the crisp air. Okay… this might actually be real. As soon as he registers the camp is surrounded by bones- Bro can’t take it anymore. He has to see. He leaps into the air and flies above the camp to see the skeleton in full. Not even considering what he could have done would backfire on him or scare anyone. The adhd has taken hold and he’s definitely off his medicine by now with how many jumps they’ve done.

"CADE AAN SAOLILE?!" he hears someone shout from below, followed by various cries of panic and awe.

As he goes up, up, up, the skeleton comes into view. First, the reptilian head, topped with horns. Then the extending lines of wingbones confirm it. This is a creature that does not exist in his world. A dragon.

Bro feels his breath puff out of his mouth as it falls open in awe. “That’s… that’s a fucking dragon-“ He laughs breathlessly and pushes back his hair. “Holy fucking shit…! This is the craziest place yet! What the fuck!”

By now he’s registering the sounds of panic/awe below and he curses. “Ah fuck… right- Jesus okay-“ he quickly zooms back down and makes sure he finds where Dyaki and Henrik are. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “S-Sorry! I got curious!”

The two of them are staring at him in utter shock. "Aan... bhfuil tú... Sinse?" Dyaki asks slowly.

Henrik shakes his head. "Fiú tá a fhies ayam go bhfuil mísheart." He takes a step forward. "...Tshais? Aan tufuil Tshais?"

"Níl sé Tshais!" Dyaki shouts. "Tshais ní fédie lais eithil!" Oh. 'Tshais.' It's the name Chase but spoken with slightly softer sounds.

“Tshais-“ Bro starts trying to say and then brightens as he realizes. “Oh Chase! That’s me, yes! I’m Chase! Chase Brody!” He points to himself and nods eagerly. As if he just forgotten that he just blew these guys’ minds.

This does not help with the blown minds. If anything, it looks like Dyaki's brain is melting. He takes a deep breath, turns to the side... and shouts, "Foc! Foc foc foc foc foc!" The meaning of that seems pretty clear.

Bro points at Jackie having a meltdown, “…well I know that word for sure-“

Henrik laughs.

He then looks at Bro thoughtfully. "Tshais mak Brodi." And he nods. "Credine thú. Ash cén... tshai?"

Bro blinks at Henrik attempting to talk to him and just politely nods.

Dyaki rejoins the other two. "Aan bhfuil a fies cá bhfuil Maerfin?" he asks Henrik.

"Aran mbhea lach." Henrik starts walking through the camp. Dyaki follows, and gestures for Bro to follow to.

Once Bro’s led to follow he does. “Man… this is really really weird…”

The three of them head through camp, the other people parting around them, not even bothering to disguise their stares.

Bro waves at some of the people before he thinks better of it and just follows behind Dyaki and Henrik.

-----------

Alt appears in a forest. It's a very lovely forest, the trees taller, wider, and bigger than he's ever seen before. The branches above are thick, and the only reason there's sunlight is because it's autumn and the vibrant leaves are thinning. Bushes and other undergrowth practically hide the forest floor beneath him. He barely has the chance to notice all this when--

Something goes whizzing right by him. If he turns around, he sees an arrow embedded in a tree, shaft and fletching vibrating.

Alt breathes for a second, confused by the air and trees when- He yelps in surprise and glitches away.

He then glitches back and pulls it out of the tree with wide confused eyes. “…a fucking arrow?? Who shot an arrow at me?!”

The forest is quiet except for the rustling of leaves. And then there is a louder rustling coming from a bush on the opposite direction of the arrow. And then there is a thunk, the sound of someone falling, and a hissed voice that says, "Dyamison!" Whatever that means.

Alt crouches down into a defensive stance, building up electricity in his hand. He carefully walks forward and then tries to glitch to where he heard the sound- hoping to get the upper hand.

The glitch is successful. He pushes aside a bush to see--a rabbit? No, it's someone wearing a rabbit mask, staring up with him with wide eyes...eyes that immediately shoot to the lingering glitch effects around him.

"Dyamison!" Suddenly another bush gets pushed aside and a man stands up, wearing a hat, a deer mask--and armed with a bow and a quiver by his side. His eyes also shoot to the lingering glitches.

"Tá brón yom, tá brón yom!" The man says, raising his hands. "Shílmé fur fiana thú, mé mionn é! Rinne mé! Dhírash--dhírash a fhákáil leis éin!" He sounds... panicked.

Alt backs up with his hands up and feels himself panicking too. “W-woah hey! You’re- you’re speaking a whole other language what the fuck…”

Strangely enough, Alt's panic seems to calm the man down slightly. He lowers his own hands, now simply wary instead of afraid. "Tá brón yom, níl a fhies aya cadatá thú ag rá."

The man in the rabbit mask stands up and steps backwards, almost tripping over some hidden roots. He looks at the other and raises his hands and--that's a sign language of some kind, definitely. But Alt doesn't recognize it.

"Cadatá igh seis aya?" The first man asks.

More sign language.

"Cén fáth nachrai tú dhírash taréis sin a rá?" The man sounds exasperated. He looks at Alt, and gives an awkward little bow. "Aan duine de FhaoNaigh thú?" he asks slowly, as if the speed was the issue and not the whole other language.

Alt looks between the two with widening eyes.

This- this was insane. God- didn’t Blaise give him a translation spell? …oh oh yes! Okay he knows this- he’s used it on Henny when he’s been really sick!

He breathes and closes his eyes. He places a hand on his temple, “thuiscint” then he places a hand on his throat, “labhairt nua.” When he’s done he opens his eyes back up and they’re glowing blue green. But- he should be able to understand them now…? Hopefully.

“Ah sorry… I didn’t understand before, could you say that again?”

Both of the men look impressed--but honestly, not as impressed as most everyday people would be when seeing magic.

"Are duine of FhaoNaigh you?" the man in the deer mask says. That makes no sense. The spell is struggling with this language. But thankfully, the man realizes something is up. "Om... say I aríse. Are being of FhaoNaigh you? Are you one of the FhaoNaigh?"

Alt knits his eyebrows together. Huh- this must be a tricky language… could it be old? Judging by these guys outfits and the fact that they tried to shoot him with a bow is very much convincing him of that.

“One of the… FhaoNaigh? Uhhh who are those?” Alt asks delicately.

"You don't know who the Fair Folk are?" the man in the deer mask says, sounding shocked. "Well, I guess that shows that you're not one of them. Where are you from, then? Why are you..." He pauses, searching for the words. "...made of... harsh light? And smell like... lightning?"

The man in the rabbit mask rolls his eyes and signs something.

"You describe it, then, Jameson!" the first man says, annoyed.

Alt’s eyebrows rise. Jameson. Okay that,.. that explains the sign. God he wished he could understand that too… feels rude to not know his side of things.

“Fair Folk… no can’t say I have… unless you’re talking about my complexion.” Alt tries to laugh. “I’m from- …really far away I’m guessing. A city called Brighton. And uh- I’m not… made of light- it’s just my magic. I can… hm- just sort of move around really fast. But with my whole body.” He glitches back and forth across the clearing before settling back in front of them. “We call it ‘glitching’ but if I’m right about this.. you wouldn’t know what that was.”

"Braiton?" The man in the deer mask shakes his head. "I've never heard of it. But I haven't traveled much. Jameson?"

Jameson shakes his head. He signs something else.

"Oh, Jameson thinks your magic is fascinating," the man in the deer mask says. "And I do too. You're right, I've never heard of... ghlishing." He pauses. "What are you doing out here, then? You appeared out of nowhere, i-it startled me. Sorry about the arrow, I thought you were a deer, I swear it."

Alt shakes his head, “it’s okay! I’m sure it was scary seeing someone appear out of nowhere. As for why I’m here… that’s a really long story I’m not sure you’d believe…”

Alt laughs, “And, uh, thanks. You guys are the ones who are fascinating to me… uh- where is this exactly?”

Strangely, the men hesitate when he asks where this is. "You're in the Dragon's Greatwoods," the man in the deer mask says slowly. "And you may as well tell us. I wouldn't believe that you showed up out of thin air if we hadn't seen it ourselves. Oh, I should introduce myself to you first. Call me Chase, son of Brody. And call him Jameson... Jameson, do you want me to...?" He waits for him to nod. "Okay. Jameson Jairsolas. What are you called?"

“Um…” Both of his names are out of place here. Guess it can’t be helped. “I’m Alt. Alt… Brody.”

He studies Chase closely. This is this world's version of his brother… he guesses he could see it? Weird to see Chase not in bright almost blinding colors.

“Okay well… I’m from- another world. One that’s like this one, but different. It’s Another world that is… probably in the future? If not just… something different entirely… not sure yet… but something feels distinctly more magical here…”

"Another world?" Chase repeats. "Oh. Okay. Nice to meet you, Alt Brody." He pauses. "That would explain the harsh light--the ghlishing. Strange to think of a world with less magic, though. You must be even more out of place at home. Sorry about that."

Alt blinks. Wow he accepted that a lot faster then he thought he would. Alt stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “It’s alright. I got my brother- he’s …magic too. Somewhat.”

Jameson signs something.

"Really?"

He repeats it insistently.

"...Fine, I guess." Chase sighs. "Jameson wants to take you back to our camp. He insists that nothing bad will happen, which--I suppose I'm more inclined to believe coming from him, but I'm still not entirely sure." Another pause. "If you're from another world, why did you come here?"

Alt tilts his head at this and then nods, “your camp… yeah that’s probably a good idea.” The glitch laughs at Chase’s last question. “We can’t really… control it at this point I guess. We’re trying to get home but… we keep picking the wrong places. We’re uh- kinda hunting down a dangerous person too.”

“Hmm.” Chase hums. “Well maybe we could help with that search. We’re very prepared to… protect people from dangerous people. I could’ve said that better, but you get what I mean.” He looks at Jameson. “If this turns out to be a bad idea you’re taking the blame.”

Jameson nods, as if he expected that.

“Alright, Alt Brody, follow us.” Chase turns and starts heading through the trees. “Anything else we should know before we get there? Like about your brother? Where is he, if not with you?”

"Hopefully close by," Alt mutters, "If not just- if you see someone is a stupidly bright orange jacket, it's probably him. ... oh or if you see anyone in the sky." He walks after them, afraid of scaring them more with his glitches. Even if it pains him.

Chase momentarily stops walking. "...In the sky? Does he have wings?"

Alt laughs, "Uh- no. That would be sick, though. His powers means he can fly. Amongst other things. And... knowing Chase- he's gonna be zipping around without much thought."

"That must be strong magic," Chase whispers. He's so in awe that he almost misses Alt mentioning his brother's name. "Wait... oh! So your brother is also called Chase. Good to know, that'll be helpful if the flying and bright orange isn't. There aren't many people named that in Glasúil. That's... where you are by the way. I'm not sure if you'd know that."

"Oh- huh, that's weird. It's a common name where we're from." Alt comments. ".. Glasúil- ... I've never heard of that. So, i guess we're not in the past past... just- somewhere... fantasy, I guess?" he shakes this head muttering, "This is the weirdest place yet..."

"Fantisey? You mean like... a story?" Chase considers that. "I suppose if your world is different enough, this one would seem like a story." He laughs. "It gets stranger. Wait until we reach camp. Which won't take too long, don't worry. Only about ten minutes. Come on, we can hurry." He starts walking again, he and Jameson picking up the pace.

Alt laughs, “Yeah… this is one crazy story.” He tries to keep pace with the others, though he looks over his shoulder quite a bit. As if worried about what could be lurking in the shadows.

-----------

As expected, the string snap as soon as Magnificent leaves the last universe. He falls for a moment, then winds up on... a wooden surface, of some kind. Like a dock for boats. He hears voices. Though he can't recognize what they're saying, they sound alarmed. When he looks around he finds himself in some place very strange indeed. It's a town of some sort but... incredibly, the whole thing is floating on water. The buildings, the wooden street, the poles that hold lanterns. But if he looks in the distance, he can see stone buildings. They must not be too far from land.

This is the most crowded landing yet. People are staring at him, all wide-eyed shock. He popped out of nowhere in the middle of a street and now there are about... twenty, thirty people staring at him--though they aren't too keen to get close, so he has a wide circle of space around himself.

Magnificent is enraged as he lands, pushing himself up with anger and looking around to see where that annoying hero and his disobedient cub are. But he pauses as he realizes he’s surrounded. He backs up, eyes wide as he takes in the look of the people. …why do they look old-timey? And not even… Henrik old-timey… these people look medieval. And so does the buildings around him on this strange floating dock,

“What the fuck-“ he whispers. He then glares and disappears from in front of them and slinks into nearby shadow.

The crowd gasps and cries out in surprise as Magnificent disappears. They look around, as if expecting him to be nearby, but of course, he is not.

Mag should probably stay out of sight until he can glean where this is… maybe he should disguise himself to fit in. Though… it could be fun to show off his magic and let these simpletons heed him as a god. Hm… maybe later. Right now, he needs more information…

Magnificent has found himself in a vast city, all clearly medieval in setting and yet impossibly incredible. The city starts on an island, where there are narrow buildings and winding streets and fenced-off gardens, all surrounding an enormous walled castle. But the city expands beyond the island as well, floating out onto the lake that surrounds it. This is where the maze of wooden walkways and houses come in. You would think that houses floating on a lake would be dangerous, but everything is remarkably sturdy. And there is something... something in the air.

"Goddess Almighty..." Magnificent breathes out in wonder. When he was human- this kind of place would have been his fantasy. And... maybe it is, still. A fantasy... so fantastical in how its structured. And even more so- he can sense something in the air. Magic? By now, he's yearning for anything. The power of the last world wasn't nearly enough...

Yes, it is indeed magic. And there is so… so… much of it. When he reaches out to detect it, it’s as if everything gives off a faint glow. In fact, he can feel this magic already sustaining him, slowly, like rain dripping into a bucket. But when he tries to reach out to take more or make it go faster, he can’t. This film of magic feels strangely distant. It will not give him more than he can hold naturally, and he cannot make it go faster.

Magnificent feels magic already in his veins and its incredible. Oh he likes this very much... but as always- he needed more.

But if he seeks magic to take, he can find it easily. There are so many magicians here. Granted, many of them have weak signatures, but in this city of thousands there are a smattering of powerhouses. The strongest of which is located in the castle in the center of the city.

Weak signatures cloud his vision but he can feel the strongest near... oh- a castle. Perfect... The dark magician grins to himself and then shifts into his cat form, slithering across the shadows to make his way towards the castle.

There is, of course, a wall around the castle, and there are, of course, guards patrolling it. But the gaps in the main portcullis are wide enough that a cat, liquid as they are, can slip through easily. And once inside the castle grounds nobody pays attention to a cat. Strays are not uncommon here. The castle is a collection of buildings, but the magic signature is within the main palace. The doors and windows are closed, but that won’t be a problem, will it? Even if Magnificent was an ordinary cat, he would simply need to wait for an opportunity.

Magnificent takes his time to study the people and this place as best as he can. When he reaches the windows he plops himself down in a place to wait... he can't draw too much attention just yet. It was already well guarded here. He can't afford to get caught. So he waits... he can be patient.

It's not long before a woman with a broom comes walking down the hallway inside, sweeping dirt into the corners. Not bothering with a dustpan. Magnificent has seen many people wearinggreen tunics like hers, it must be a uniform. She notices the cat sitting outside and her eyes light up. Discreetly, she glances to either side and then hurries over and slides the window open. It's a good thing he chose this spot, not all the windows will slide like that.

"Nash bhfuil tú gleoti?" she coos. "Teash tar, teash tar." It's a language Magnificent doesn't recognize, sounding like bastardized Irish, but judging by her tone she wants him to get close. Probably for petting.

Magnificent is quick to jump on the windowsill, letting himself be pet. But, as the woman makes contact, he floods his power into her. Attempting to decipher and learn the language while searching through her mind. And make it malleable to him as well- Could be useful...

The woman gasps. Her mind is surprisingly weak already, like a piece of cloth worn thin. She does not even try to fight against him. Deciphering the language is tricky, since it's not one Magnificent is familiar with, but he gets there eventually. And learns some about this new world.

This city is Suilthair, the capital of the island kingdom Glasúil. Glasúil is ruled by "aan Rith"--the Royal, the King. This woman is convinced the King is a good man, a kind and just ruler. But Magnificent knows the signs of manipulation when he sees them.

Magnificent shakes himself out as the information comes flooding. Ah- interesting. His eyes glow as he looks at the woman and he asks in her head. {Fair Maiden, can you direct me to where the Royal is?}

The woman smiles faintly, flattered at being called fair. She says something that Magnificent understands to mean, “He’s in the Great Hall at this time of day. Follow me.” And she stands up straight and starts down the wide hallways.

He chuckles and follows right after her. He makes sure to study the castle as the walk- this almost feels too easy. Not that he's complaining...

The palace corridors are wide and grand, but feel somewhat empty and dark, even with the many windows. The woman leads him down hall after hall until they reach a set of grand wooden doors. There are two guards on either side, but one of the doors is propped open so that kind of defeats the purpose of them, really.

"Through there," the woman says. "I'm not allowed in."

Magnificent giggles and in a quick burst of static he returns to his proper form. He pats her shoulder and strides forward, grinning wide. "Thank you, my dear. Now- run along~, I have business to attend to."

The two guards cry out when Magnificent shifts form, grabbing their pole arms while the woman calmly walks away.

Mag meets the guards' eyes and cocks his head at them, sending out a mental blast of obedience. "Excuse me gentlemen~ Let me through."

He attacks, and at once—maybe even faster than normal—the guards relax. They lower their weapons and step aside, letting Mag access the open doorway.

Magnificent chuckles and dramatically flares his cape to walk by and into the room. "Much obliged!"

The Royal... must be the most powerful person in this realm. And if all these fools kept falling so easily... either the king would be easy prey. Or... a worthy opponent. Either option had the mad magician excited.

This was going to be so much fun~

The Great Hall is indeed great, a wide open space with a peaked roof above and old tapestries hanging on the walls. There is also a fireplace with a roaring fire on the other end of the room, but its warmth doesn't reach the door. A long wooden table takes up most of the space. There's room for many people to sit but there is only one. A man sitting at the head of the table by the fireplace, drinking from a goblet and staring at one of the tapestries thoughtfully. He wears a green cape, a golden circlet sitting on his brown hair. From this distance, he almost looks like Alt. But then he looks at Magnificent and he sees that his eyes are an unnatural emerald green color.

"You wasted no time," he says, putting the goblet down and standing up.

Magnificent can't help but smirk. Clever already... and so much like his cub. "Ah, you expected me, then?"

“I felt a stranger coming ever since you entered the castle grounds.” The King clasps his hands behind him. “I’ve never seen such strange garb. A mask, but you’re not one of those rebels. Where are you from?”

"mmm incredible reach~!" Magnificent's blood is roaring in his ears, hungry for the power just a few feet from him. He laughs a bit madly and repeats the king's gesture, but tilts his head like a curious cat. "From a world beyond your comprehension~ I'm merely... visiting. Trying to see what a world like this has to offer~"

“And you think you can take my power?” The King chuckles. “You can try. Perhaps this world will have things beyond your comprehension. Magic may exist on your Earth, but do you think the magic here will be so easily taken and converted to yours? You already had trouble in the last world, I see.”

Magnificent's confidence wavers and he stumbles back just slightly. He's- unnerved. He didn't even feel a presence inside his head at all. His eyes darken and spark with power as he growls. "How the fuck did you do that?"

The King grins. “Already surprised? You may not last long here, Marvin. Strange, I knew a man with close to that name once. He escaped his fate.”

Oh- now he's done it. Magnificent roars in anger and lashes out to attack the King with his claws.

The King reacts swiftly. Mag didn’t even notice the sheathe by his side. In the second before Mag reaches him he pulls out a large knife, and Magnificent’s claws glance off the coppery metal.

“Rashness will get you killed, magician,” the King says, spinning the large knife. Lightning traces the blade.

Magnificent's eyes glow with rage and he summons green fire in his hands, "How did you get in my mind?! I didn't even detect you! What are you?!" He spits.

“I am what you seek to become.” The King smiles. “And there can only be one of us in this world. I’ll offer you mercy. You have three days to leave this world.” He raises the blade, not pointing it at Magnificent, instead tracing an outline around him. Ozone fills the air. “If you don’t, I will kill you. If you cause too much trouble, this offer is forfeit and I will kill you. Do you understand?”

"Don't patronize me!" Magnificent shrieks, "I won't stoop so low to take pity from the likes of you!" He teleports to be right in front of the King and tries to grab him by his cloak.

But as Magnificent teleports in front of him, he feels a sharp pain in his gut and hears a hissing sound. That electrified blade went right into his stomach. And the King doesn't so much as flinch.

Magnificent cries out and then moves to try to shove himself away from the blade- but the shocks have his muscles trying to spasm.

"This is not condensation, Marvin," the King says. "Nor is it pity. It's a shame to end a life so ambitious. But your anger will leave me no choice." He smiles drily. "Learn to abandon it."

The mad magician grits his teeth in rage. "You're underestimating me too quickly, Your majesty." He spits the title out like its poison.

A spiral of green and purple magic blooms behind the magician, trying to ensnare the king's senses.

The King glances at it, and... and for a moment, it feels like Mag has control. His eyes even glaze over. But he doesn't respond to commands like he should.

"You are very powerful," the King says, tilting his head like he's admiring the spirals the way someone would a work of art. "But I think you're misunderstanding this situation. This sort of trick won't work." He grabs Magnificent by the shoulders and spins him around. When he traced an outline around him earlier, when the air had smelled of ozone, a doorway had opened up in the middle of the air, edges lined with snapping green power. On the other side is somewhere lined with trees. "See if you can make your way back here to try again," the King says, and pushes Mag forward.

Magnificent gasps as he's grabbed and tries to spin around to reach for the king as he's pushed through the doorway, spitting curses. "NO!"

The King is not expecting to be grabbed--in his experience, people are usually pretty weak after being stabbed with lightning. He cries out, surprised, and the two of them tumble forward through the doorway, which abruptly disappears.

"Ageless fucking Elders!" The King curses, scrambling to his feet. He spins around, clenching his fists in frustration, then forces himself to take some deep breaths. They're now outside of the city in a completely different location. A copse of autumn trees, surrounded by fields for as far as the eye can see.

"Congratulations, Marvin, you've managed to change my mind," the King mutters. "You get to live so it'll be easier to get back to somewhere with people instead of the middle of thrice-damned nowhere."

Magnificent spits dirt out of his mouth and pushes himself up, gripping at his wound. "Oh how generous of you, your kinglyness" He spits. He looks around the landscape and bares his teeth in a snarl. "... also stop calling me that, before I claw your innards out and frame it on a wolf."

"Very creative," the King mutters. "Fine, Magnificent. You are aware you're not bleeding, right? You know what sealing a wound is, right? Unfortunately I didn't think to bring medical supplies or health potions so you'll have to live with that."

Magnificent blinks and looks down at his hand, revealing that there is, in fact, no blood. He scowls and rubs at the area and mutters, "... still hurts like a bitch." He shakes himself off, much like a cat would and observes the woods. ...what can they do now? He hasn't felt any presence of his cub or his idiot brother...

"Right, those two who have been hunting you through your travels," the King says, picking up on Magnificent wondering about those two. "I suppose if they have the talisman that lets you travel you would've needed to find them. Hmm... and if they could be anywhere in the kingdom, you might not have found them within three days. My limit was perhaps a bit unfair."

Magnificent jumps at the king just casually saying his thoughts out loud. "Jesus christ! Can you like- not?? For a second?" He hisses, bristling like a startled cat.

The King looks at him, confused. “Jesus…? Oh, one of your world’s gods, I see.”

"what? oh yeah- uh... right. I suppose he is." Mag makes a face at this.

The King pauses. “I suppose if we are forced to work together for a time I could offer you that trust.” He is clearly reluctant. “I’ll swear on my family line to not hear your thoughts until we find our way out of the wild. Happy?”

Mag studies the king's expression and then sighs and slowly nods. "Alright. And I'll try not to do the same. I have... no idea how to navigate this so... I guess a truce is in order."

The King nods slowly. "A truce." He looks around and starts carefully walking deeper into the trees, away from the fields. "It's been a while since I walked in the wilds. Especially so unprepared. We'll have to use our magics to their fullest. The first order of business is food and water. I see no water, and only small animals will run across the fields. We must look elsewhere."

Magnificent makes a face, "Fuck... i haven't gone camping in the woods since I was a boy..." He mutters. "Jackie always loved this shit- fucking- god." He nods to the king and realizes his appearance will probably scare off anything coming towards them. He grunts and then changes his appearance to fit in. Getting rid of his mask and letting his hair get long and brown and curled up in a bun. His shirt changes to a billowy sleeved tunic with dark green patches and a small capelet over his shoulder. His classy dress shoes turn to hunting boots. It feels... strange. But at least they can keep a lower profile now. After much thought he puts back on his mask though. He needs to be able to... somewhat see. Or see the magic around them. Maybe he can sense some life around here... ugh. Hunting. All this is leaving a bad taste in his mouth, reminding him of days he long since wanted to forget.

The King watches as Magnificent uses magic to change his appearance. He raises an eyebrow. "Clever," he says quietly. "May I suggest the addition of some piece of jewelry? Wizards here need a focus to channel their magic, and as you are clearly magical, it would look strange to see you without one."

"Ah would I be considered a wizard here then?" Magnificent mused, "My father always called us sorcerers."

After a moment of thought, the King also reluctantly removes the circlet from his head, stringing it along his belt. "Be discreet about it, though, too much shine will attract magpies."

Mag shrugs and tries to think of an easy focus. He looks around then finds a rock on the ground, perfectly round. He pumps it full of black magic and its shape shifts into one of a simple gold focus with a black opal in the center, though it seems cracked with various colors underneath. He smirks and puts the trinket on, letting it dangle around his neck. "I'm fairly interested in how our magic systems may differ-" He pauses and then briefly glances at the King. "Though... you know my name, but I only know your title. What exactly should I call you? or do you prefer to only be referred to in royal terms."

The King grins, looking almost mischievous. "Aodhan will work, if you must. Though it is not... hmm... common to use a monarch's first name here.”

"Well, where I'm from the monarchy is nothing more than a figure head that distracts the populace with its extravagance." Magnificent replies with clear distain. "So, Aodhan will do fine until we're around others I suppose. I'm not referring to you by title if I can help it. Though... I guess you can refer to me as... that name- if you must... or the simpletons who stalk me call me ‘Mag’. That could work too."

“As for the matter of magic, yes, wizard would be the closest thing you are, though what you just did with that rock would be more akin to sorcery, which is the manipulation of the natural world. Wizardry is other flashy magic, such as summoning things or shapeshifting... but enchantment is the magic of the mind. Out of all the options, wizardy would best explain the variety of power you have." The King continues.

Mag chuckles at the explanation of magic and shakes his head. "So limiting... the divisions here. How quaint."

"Hmm... it is quite frustrating, isn't it?" the King agrees. "I know others who would say the division is the price to pay for the abundance of power in the land. But... well, it's as you said, rather limiting, isn't it? Luckily, we don't have to abide by those limits." He smiles darkly. "We have some walking to do yet. I hope you're prepared."

Magnificent chuckles and shares that dark smile with the King. "As I'll ever be."