503 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
Gloriander is an Elven mathematician. She’s good with numbers. It’s a rare skill among the Samhain Elves and the main reason why she gets invited to cross-dimensional parties.
“Everyone minus everyone who abandoned me in this hellscape equals…me. Just me. Story of my life,” she sighs. “Not even my mouse-sized horse stuck around to keep me company.”
It wouldn’t have been so bad to be abandoned, she thinks, if only she had gotten to see a human.
Stories of giant-sized humans had always fascinated her. No mouse-sized horses for them—humans stood tall enough to ride horse-sized mice! Or horse-sized horses. Or horse-sized anything else they could get a saddle onto.
A human riding a horse-sized dragon? Now that would have been a sight worth piercing a veil from another world for, she thinks.
But the humans of previous Samhains were gone. Their houses had burned. Their village was left in ruins. What exactly had happened here?
“Say cheese!”
A blinding flash sends Gloriander stumbling backward. Through the bulb-shaped afterimage, she can make out a faery wearing peculiar copper-colored armor and a helmet with enormous glass lenses.
“Who?”
“I’m taking candids this year,” the faery explains.
“What?”
“Candids. Those are photograms what aren’t expected. I tells ya to say cheese, but then I presses me button before ya c’n smile.”
“What?” Gloriander asks again.
The faery pats an odd-looking lantern, the apparent source of the flash. “I took yer likeness and put it in me camera.”
Gloriander blinks. “Your device stole a piece of my soul?”
“Nah, nah, nah,” says the faery. “Well, maybe. The metaphilosophicals of the camera ain’t my department. I just take the pictures.”
“So where is it?” Gloriander asks.
“Where is what?”
“Where is the stolen piece of my soul?” she reaches for the infernal device but the faery blocks her with one hand, moving the camera as far away as her other arm reach.
The faery’s monarch butterfly wings flutter indignantly. “Whoa there. The picture ain’t been developed yet. But worry not. I got your soul safe and secure on a plate of silver nitrate.”
“Let me see it.”
“Ya can’t. If ya expose the plate to the light, ya’ll lose the image f’rever.”
Gloriander drops to her knees. “My soul is incomplete. It would seem you have placed me under your power. Gloriander of the Sliderule is now your unwilling slave.”
“Well, that’s a better reaction than I get from most of me subjects, but I don’t cotton to slavery.” She offers the Elf a hand up. “Fine to meet ya, Glory. Me given name’s Rose, but din’t like it, so ye can call me Shutterbug.”
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
Revision Notes:
To be added.
