So Zori Crotox had gotten used to this whole Terrasphere thing. After a few days frequenting the game he started to real dig it, and got a feel for how it all worked out. He was adjusting swimmingly and was even able to budget his time inside and outside of the game efficiently enough he could play worry free. At the point in time we join his story he's continuing to wander the Maithe Woodlands. Partially to continue to exercise his movement manipulating masteries, with the intent to be able to give it his all when the situation called for it. Also to enjoy the wonderful wilderness that was still incredibly foreign to him. Having spent the entirety of his life enjoying a ten mile radius around his suburban home in between nowhere important and some great city of the world. A life of pavement, asphalt, steel, concrete, and glass. Sure, 2020 California still had parks and stuff. He knew what a tree looked like. He'd felt grass before. None of it was real, nothing felt as real, as Terrasphere. There was a distinct difference between nature and landscaped city amenities. Something about the pristine roughness, unpredictable forms, and smell of everything just kept him thinking it was a new world. It was a new him. The change felt pretty shallow, obviously. Sticking a helmet on and escaping to the internet doesn't make a person any different at the drop of a hat. That's why he was doing stuff he never did. It was why he kept trying to explore. Paradoxically, he was doing it all like a sheltered pansy. He was afraid of running into something dangerous. Another wild stag, unsuspectingly getting caught in some slime, tripping on the rock that was sealing an ancient evil, he didn't know the depths of terror in this scary world just yet. That was part of why he knew he hadn't changed at all. Not yet. There was still progress to be made. Zori was so lost in thought that it took him a second to catch up with the world when a croak shocked him from his auto-pilot sneaking stupor. He followed the sounds of an amphibian with his powerful ears. These great cool things on the top of his head. The stuff he'd really need to figure out one of these days. That and his tail, they were rarely a point of interest in any given moment. Except for times like this. When he followed the calm croaks of a frog by some forest pond in a dangerous fantasy world. They worked at least. The pair of auditory receptors having led the Caenis to a pile of damp clothes by the water. He crouched down and poked at the pile until a moist creature was revealed, mixed in with the clothes. "How strange. What's all this about?" He asked himself. The green critter locked its yellow eyes with Zori's before ribbiting again. It sent chills down the Famigna boys spine. Was he being talked to? He gingerly wormed his fingers around the frogs body, freeing it from the earth as it tried to hop away from the sudden froghandling. "Are you... a person? I didn't think this was that kind of fantasy world..." He lightly grimaced at the idea of what finding a human-turned-frog entailed. Not exactly fond of bussing wet things so far removed from human. What was worse, some of the clothes were stuck to the green frog. Specifically some white woman's panty. What a sick scenario he had found himself in. Alin wouldn't have done it...
All of Ms. Magpie’s hard earned money had been split between a deck of cards and a tea set. She was left with little choice in matters of upkeep. Honeyhome’s inn wasn’t going to take on a witch masquerading as a vagabond without proper compensation, not again. Every after several washes, and incantations, slime still clung to the fibers of her greenblooded attire. Having found a steam, she once again did her laundry, and predictably, attempted to rid herself of the grime of fantasy adventure. It was late enough that she could be assured privacy. She was sure she hadn’t seen anyone both on her way, and during her stay in the area. For once, Ms. Magpie felt she had the luxury of a luxury. A long, cathartic bath certainly wasn't asking too much of the forces that guide the virtual world. Emerging from the stream, she was met with a terrible sight: Nothing. Clearly the branch was there, and that was--without a shred of doubt--the same swinging, span of spruce that she had rested her drying clothes upon. A witch’s intuition rarely failed, but now, Ms. Magpie was left hoping that she simply was being failed, for the alternative was far too unnerving. She had made a studied note of the landmarks, and she was sure that she hadn’t wandered off too far in her bath... Her worst fears came into fruition when she found most of her garments splayed out along the ground in a distinct lack of order. Frantically, she looked through the small pile, and pale face became stained red with embarrassment. A crucial garment was gone--her underwear. When she took the time to practice hexes, had she inadvertently hexed herself? There had to be something out there to explain this poor stroke of luck, and angry bucks. Taking her, already, scant starter clothes into her hands, her embarrassment twisted into further contempt. Whomever had stolen her panties, didn’t care to ensure that they did not sully what was left. Clutching her mud-wracked clothes, the witch almost wrung the filth right out of them. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about--she had to do her laundry yet again. As a wizard, she was not yet at that point where she could easily handle mundane tasks with cantrips and sentient brooms; doing laundry in a cold steam was all the motivation she needed to become powerful. The question of just how many more washes her starter gear could handle was pressing on her mind. However, her focus was broken as a sound crossed her ears: A faint voice--a distant one. She hadn’t immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was the unquestionably nefarious panty thief, but she certainly had to see for herself. This time, taking her wet laundry with her, she attempted to sneak. Between bush and tree, doe and log, she made it to a pond. “Insolent wretch.” She spat under her breath. Witchly eyes caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure holding up women’s underwear in the faint glimmer of moonlight. Setting her wet clothes on a nearby branch she quickly snapped into action. In her short time in the game world, Ms. Magpie had already developed a list of people she intended to hex--Theoni Vex, for example--and now having made some progress in her studies, she was ready to lay out her first curse. Purple energy erupted from Ms. Magpie’s already dark eyes as her voice erupted in a sequence of raspy chants. Dark magic's wild gestures, unfortunately, left no room for modesty as she approached. What she had to do was clear. Her tarot set, which had been kept safely away from her undergarments, spun outwards. Two cards, engulfed in purple haze, came out into the forefront: Eight of Cups & Death. If she had to suffer this indignity, then so too would her assailant. Upon closer inspection, she realized a great many things. For one, those were not her panties; hers had been blue. Secondly, that was Zori...whom she did not believe to be a pervert, “Wait… No…” She awkwardly spurted out, her voice still distorted by the surge of dark energies, “You again?" The damage had been done, and a hex had been cast. A glyph soared at Zori, looking to brand itself on his chest. While the “brand” itself would dispate, its effects would certainly remain. It rendered one temporarily unable to wear mundane clothing. If Zori were to be struck, his garments would erupt outwards, finding themselves rejected by his person.
Zori was kinda disappointed. Against all odds the improbable situation he'd found himself in chose to be completely rational instead of throw him into a weird and unpredictable fantasy life. No. The world was boring for once. He wasn't sure if that was something to be disappointed about or something to be happy for. Would he really want to deal with finding a random cursed princess in the middle of the woods and throwing himself in to an epic journey of love and discovery while trying to bring her to her homeland where he'd be pressured into marrying her and settling down as a preeminent ruler for an unknown kingdom he wouldn't even have time for since he still needed to live in the real world? Yeah. It was probably a good thing this wasn't a princess as a frog scenario. Zori wiped off the frog ooze from his lips and spat profusely at the ground. This was a mistake. Sometimes being true to yourself instead of putting on a brave face was fine. It was a valuable lesson. One Zori would truly take to heart, especially in the near future while the sting of defeat was still fresh in his mind. That left himself in the odd spot of being in the middle of the forest after laying one on an amphibian. Thankfully he had completely evaded anyone's vision while performing that act. Otherwise he might be labeled some weird name no matter how much he tried to build up other accomplishments to be rid of the title. Oh, that would have been a terrible fate. That terrifying fate filled Zori's mind as he pulled the blue underwear off of the frog's back and left it on the pond's shore again. All the while releasing a soft sigh. Then he heard it. A noise. He feared the worst, was it the FBI? NSA? CIA? NAACP? NACLU!? NAMBLA??? PETA!?!? God, no! He needed to log out. He needed to run, he must have committed some awful crime! Terrasphere was obviously a sting operation, how could he not see that! While trying to hurriedly fiddle with the palm menu, panties still in hand and somehow getting in the way, Zori realized he was hit by something. He looked at his chest, where the dull sensation began, and noticed the magic glyph. "Huh. Am I not being attacked in real life?" He said for the planet. There was no time to think about the situation after all. Then all the clothes on his person, and the underwear in his hand, flew away from him at an impressive speed. The sudden chill of the nighttime forest and the adrenaline running through his real, and virtual, veins made his body react instinctively to the sudden nudification. His tail curled up around his grundle with the tip reaching up to his belly button faster than you could spot the light from lightning. Protecting the dog boy's modesty. To the disappointment of everyone in the peanut gallery waiting for that #dogdick. He was still heavily panicked because Zori still thought he was a plain naked human. So he screamed. The kind of quiet, pathetic, scream a child might make when they don't know what their mad about and there's nothing acceptable to be angry at in their vicinity. Then there was that demonic voice he was pretty sure he heard. Was this some kind of sex demon? Were those things on Terrasphere? Was rape covered in the terms of service or something? No one ever read those!!! He looked in the direction of the voice and saw a familiar Yladian covering herself in the brush. Similarly without clothes. Zori quickly crouched down and defended his already covered body with his legs and knees, ignoring all the wild underbrush on his body, and said, "Oh. This is awkward, so the sex demon got you too? Is there anyway to defend ourselves?" Just loud enough for Ms. Magpie to hear. While trying to keep the tears rolling down his eyes from being too obvious. Also stretching for the closest piece of clothing and despairing as it flew away by some magical force.
Zori’s shriek aroused a rattling chill down the witch’s spine. Her hex had been far more effective than she anticipated, its terror breaking through into reality. It far exceeded her intended effect, although, had it have hit its intended target, perhaps it would have been less impactful. Regardless, the impact was there. Once Zori's rags were shed, what had been left was a babbling mess of a dog-man, hiding, forced to tuck his tail between his legs. For now, Zori was, what she could reasonably describe as being the control group... sort of. Already, Zori’s mind had gone to this being the result of nefarious otherworlders. As a theory, it did have some credence, however, it was quickly dismissed by the witch. She already knew the source of the poor dog’s misery. For someone without integrity, this talk of demons was an easy out. A simple lie and she could slip on through out of the responsibility of having accidentally thrown a hex onto a--possibly--innocent bystander. Maintaining this web of lies would have been trivial for an aspiring illusionist, and such machinations could serve as valuable practice in the ways of deceit. Without much thought or hesitation, Ms. Magpie emerged from the comfortable distance. If she were going to be engaging in conversation with Zori, she was certainly going to have to be a more reasonable speaking distance from him. They couldn't be shouting at this time of evening, regardless of the circumstances at play. Although, the witch had no intent of stooping down to his level; she much preferred to stand. “No.” She ultimately decided. Crossing her arms so that one arm could remain tastefully diagonally down her midsection (and beyond), she attempted to meet Zori’s darting, flustered eyes, “Do not be ridiculous.” Scolded the witch, in what seemed like an attempt to make the cold, naked silence even more awkward than it already was. Moving one of her arms, she corrected her hair, “There is no ‘sex demon’ at work here.” But one’s clothing doesn’t simply fly off without cause. So while the two were currently not under the threat of very real ‘sex demons’, Ms. Magpie had to handle the complex process of having fired within a friendly setting, “You were struck by a curse of mine; one that I had intended for someone else.” She rather bluntly explained. Somewhere out there, there was still a thief she needed to find. Every moment she kept her chilling gaze on Zori in his vulnerable state, was a moment the thief had to escape clutching the witch's panties. Suffering a tinge of guilt, she knew she couldn’t leave Zori alone like this. In the glimmering moonlight were the clear inklings of tears along the dog's cheeks, “I am deeply sorry that you were caught in the crossfire, but I must ask that you cease this crying.” “Allow me to offer some assistance. As a temporary measure, I can clothe you in a glamour.” Although her stores of mystical energies were limited, she thought the least she could do, until she figured out how to undo her own hex, was dress him in magic. It was plan enough, but the problem still remained that her spells had significant somatic requirements, “Stand straight, and cover your eyes…” She suggested, her eyes already starting to flare up.
Zori had lived a simple life. He enjoyed the kind and naive pleasantries a new world could offer. Novel food, drink, companionship, the works really. He was a simpleton with a simple life with simple desires and simple wishes. Then this shit happens. He gets attacked by the sex demons and the witch, not princess, who betrothed herself to them by covenant of blood ruins it and takes it all away. His innocence, the precious gift he'd been saving for marriage, I guess? Now he had to make peace with the fact it'd all be gone. Or at least that's what Zori was busy thinking about. All in the moments before his wild, irrational, nightmares were shut down with the nonchalant air a Chinese chef chopped off a goose's neck. For a second the sudden lack of pretense shook Zori out of his stupor. Then reality caught back up to him and he started to meekly panic and twinge, tweak, and twiddle on the ground. With his hands not needed for modesty's sake he was able to use them to shield his crying eyes from the majority of the elf witch's form. Leaving some tasteful shoulder and head available at the top of his sight. There was an odd pause in the entire affair. The two naked strangers having to move beyond considering sex demons. Zori felt like he needed to stutter out a kind of disagreement, defend the reality of sex demons posing a viable threat. He was, instead, forced into a passive acceptance of her reality on behalf of his stripped status. Even when she offered herself as the source of his vexing dilemma he wasn't interested in completely abandoning the idea. It is the fool he convinces themselves that they know enough, after all. For what it was worth he tried to stifle his tears. The ludicrous sexual assault wasn't really making it feasible, but he tried. Then he felt the unreasonable was offered. It must have been a ploy. Some bedeviling request that would lead to further hexes or bouts of tantric devilry. It was her devious plot, the ultimate culmination of all her plans. She was the source of this grand dilemma. The ultimate problem, the root of all evil. If Zori was going to have any chance of escaping back to his normal, idealized, life of happiness and simple pleasures he would have to resist with incredible will power. "A-alright..." The caenis boy said. While sitting. It was almost as if he made no effort to even reach the standing position that had been requested of him. The moment before Magpie would have protested his continued inaction or, in the case she was (somehow) patient with the boy, eventually; Zori would stand. With his hands above his tail ensuring total chastity. "D-don't make me girly like the other time." He mumbled out. After, assuming success, the illusion ritual he would maintain ample coverage of his form by continuously keeping his tail tucked. While also throwing out a poignant question, "If you could do this for me, why didn't you clothe yourself?" And while I don't feel it needs to be stated, any time Zori was worried he might catch sight of Ms. Magpie's indecency he'd cover his eyes with one hand. While shutting them tight. Probably losing all heterosex street cred in the process.
There was nowhere else Ms. Magpie needed to be. She had been very serious in her offer. Standing there sternly. With the patience of a coiled viper, she waited out Zori's bout of self-pity, until she eventually snapped, "Are you quite done?" She groaned, quite frustratingly. In keeping eye contact, the witch had seen just how much he had deteriorated. She began to lend some unironic consideration to his talk of demons. Did he have a frightful encounter with monstrosities from beyond after their faithful encounter with the stag? As curious as she was, she knew she didn't have time for such unimportant small-talk. A panty thief was at large, and she needed to get Zori on his marry way. Her ritual was suddenly brought to a halt when Zori's concerns were so unceremoniously brought into the fold. This was not a promise she could make, for she knew it was one she couldn't keep. It wasn't a matter of dressing him in drag. She had intended to help him, and was hardly about to further embarrass him, especially in his state of pathetic vulnerability. Her worries were mostly centered around her design influences when it came to clothing. Most of her experience with fantasy had come from romantic visual novels, wherein every bit of clothing was glimmering, gorgeous, and ostensibly feminine. She made no attempt to comfort the near-sobbing puppy. Anything she could say would either have been a lie or a doubled over half-truth. In silence she set out along the graceful hand, and swaying hip motions that went into her illusions. Intensely, she kept her own eyes were kept keenly on the slits of Zori's fingers--watching out for the faintest gleam of his eyes. The only glimmers she could glean were those of tears leaking through the cracks of his weakened digits. Content, and at least partially covered by her trademark purple mist, the witch started whispering a web of upside down mystical musings. Cascading across Zori's person was the glimmering, and horribly unsubtle framework of a novice's illusion. Instead of simply putting him in a carbon copy of the starting clothes, her mind was warped by echoes of the still crying dog's fears. At a time where he might be afraid of eyes gazing upon him, Ms. Magpie dressed him in the eye-catching, audacious dress of one of the bishounen of her beloved erotic visual novels. The poor dog's bright, colorful garb glowed in the moonlight, his weightless breastplate sparkling. Even through the spell, he had reasonable enough questions. In truth, there had been a reasonable enough explanation for why she, at least for a moment more, would remain nude, "I am still quite new at this: Maintaining this illusion requires astute focus, and considerable energy. I could not hope to keep up two." She truthfully explained. Yet that was hardly to be a problem, at least for long. Out of the sight of the sightless dog, she moved behind the treeline she had emerged from, "Also. My own garments are nearby; they've been dr--" Her explanation was ultimately cut short by her audible muted shock. It being a busy time of night, the cold silence of Ms. Magpie's realization were quickly drowned out by a chorus of giggles emanating behind Zori.
"Y-you know this sounds like it's really just a big problem, can't you just cut the middle man out and undo it?" Zori meekly chirped a new concern towards the witch in the woods. Still, with his hand tightly clutching his face and impeding his sight. He didn't feel any different after Magpie had completed her spell, for some reason wondering when she'd be done. His quietness wasn't helpful for either party; it was quite likely he wasn't heard. Her voice had slowly drifted away, and before it had abruptly ended, leaving Zori with the frightening idea that he was alone. In a forest with se— You know, this doesn't need to be reiterated. He didn't have eyes on her. He did hear her muted shock. It was panicking. Far more easily to hear than some ostentatious orator of a sorceress's muted sounds of awe was the ghastly giggling coming from multiple sources. Behind the Caenis. It was just enough to push him over the edge into what day-time television series with action scenes constantly refer to as "fight or flight." The ookamimi's attempt to flee was more predictable than the period at the end of this sentence! Which is to say, he turned to see what threat approached with a hand over his tail on top of his groin while trying to run backwards. His attempt at imitating that weird creature from Brazilian folk lore was admirable and fool hardy and ineffectual. The admirable part could probably have been lost when the bishonen-clad pup fell on the seat of his fake clothes and became too familiar with the ground. Familiar in a bad way as his panicked legs shuffled him backwards. If there was a way to make randomly being stripped in the middle of the forest at night by a cranky naked witch worse, it was adding creepy disembodied giggling. The source of which probably would have released laughter at the indubitably unfortunate circumstances surrounding the poor Zori. That laugh never came. Pleasantly? in its place was a sound of disgust as the sounds of something like "Ewww. Gross a frog." replaced it. The difference in reality and expectation was enough for Zori to double take, escaping the fear, and for the first time actually see what was going on in front of him. There was a girl, he thought for a moment before realizing, no that was a floating orb. There was a group of floating orbs with cackle-esque giggles flowing out of their ectoplasmic bodies..? There were only the vaguest of outlines and hints that there were floating ghost children in front of him. With the leader of the pack being some kind of blonde girl. A blonde girl ghost who still remembered she ought not to enjoy the sight of amphibious creepy crawlies. That was when it hit Zori. There was a chilly damp thing on his lower stomach. He looked at the untarnishable illusory clothes that swaddled him where he felt it near his groin. He picked up the formerly-possibly-a-princess and let it loose, again. Using his outstretched arm to pivot to his feet, he got a better look at the ghosts. Almost comforted by the fact that they were the opposite of sex demons. That and they were kind of enchanting, calming. Nearly emitting a nostalgic feeling that captivated his thoughts. "Hey there, gho-gal... What're you doing out at night?" It sounded pretty different than before, the fear heavily lost in the fascination. Of course, the existence of will-o-wisps in front of Zori didn't really elaborate on what occurred to Ms. Magpie. Perhaps she cursed because her clothes were lost, or she dropped them in a puddle while trying to be an impressive enchantress. She could have seen the will-o-wisps, maybe sensed them with her magic. Anything really could have happened. What was very important, regardless of what occurred to the witch, was that Zori was so convinced by the illusion his tail subconsciously stopped curling up between his legs.
