Shirley
Eira stood at the foot of the vast and rugged Dragonclaw Mountains. Her multiple pupils adjusted to the dim light, absorbing the details of the rocky terrain and the looming peaks that stretched towards the sky. The wind howled through the passes, carrying with it a chill that seemed to embrace Eira's very essence. She clutched her fur-lined cloak tightly around her, even though she was naturally resistant to the cold. The thick garment provided her with a sense of protection. Her senses were alive with the scents of nature and distant rustling of creatures that called this harsh land their home.

Eira's four arms twitched slightly as she considered her options. The path ahead was treacherous, winding through narrow valleys and cliffs. She glanced down at her satchel, ensuring her supplies were secure, and tightened her grip on her hunting knife. The bone necklace around her neck as a reminder of her tribal roots and her journey's purpose. She wanted to find out what was out there in the world beyond her tribe's walls

However, before she could start her ascent, Eira knew she needed some sustenance to fuel her body for the challenging climb that lay ahead. Her stomach rumbled, a reminder that she couldn't face the unforgiving mountains on an empty stomach. She turned her attention to the land around her, searching for signs of edible plants or small creatures that could provide her with enough food to last the climb. Her arms moved with purpose, her fingers inspecting leaves and pebbles, her eyes scanning the ground for any traces of life.
Stephen
*Vern makes himself known with a crunch of dead leaves as he steps closer to this strange being. And she was strange indeed. A fascinating race that he's never seen before in all his years. This would make a great story, an outsider suddenly confronted by a bizarre stranger. It was a trope for sure, but one he simply couldn't get enough of. His pawn had grown rather boring as of late. Avoiding conflict, talking about his problems. Drama was fine, but he desired something more.*

*Vern took a lurching step, giggling like a madman behind a mask. The mask was of porcelain make, bearing a twisted grinning visage. It glowed with iridescent light. Besides the mask, this man was completely average. Brown hair, peasant's clothes, and nothing to protect him from the cold. The man stepped closer to the strange four-armed beast, urged forth by the foreign presence residing in the mask. As he approached he spread his arms wide, bowing deeply and dramatically to Eira.*

"Greetings, my four-armed friend! Tell me, who and what are you? In my millennia, I have never before seen anything like you!"

*Hearing it speak behind the mask was strange. It spoke in three overlapping voices. One belonged to a man, presumably the true voice of whoever lay behind the mask. The other two voices spoke in perfect harmony, male and female. One speaking in a happy tone, the other melancholy. It was a strange effect.*
Shirley
Eira's senses honed in on the sound of crunching leaves, her multiple pupils darting towards the source of the approaching footsteps. Her eyes fell on an individual who appeared just as fascinatingly different to her as she did to him. As the man took step closer, his giggles resonating behind the mask, Eira curiously tilted her head. His appearance contrasted with her own, his brown hair and clothes standing out against the harsh backdrop of the mountains. But it was the mask that captured her attention the most, its twisted grin and light creating an unsettling aura.

Her four arms flexed slightly at her sides, her clawed fingers twitching as she observed the man's movements. Eira's limited knowledge of the common language allowed her to understand fragments of man's words, enough to piece together his introduction and the nature of his curiosity. She crouched down with a smile on her face which revealed her sharp teeth. Her antennae twitched curiously as she tried to figure out who, or rather, what this man was.

"Eira Loðinn... Snow.. Flea? Yes." She replied, her voice a mixture of rumbling noises. Her unfamiliarity with the encounter led her to respond with wonder and innocence, her openness reflecting the untamed curiosity that burned within her.
Stephen
*The man rose from his bow and placed his hands behind his back. Common was not this beasts first tongue. Regrettable. Moreover, he has no idea what language this "Snow Flea" Would possibly speak. Oh well. Perhaps a language barrier would be a nice bit of extra difficulty in this encounter.*

"Snow-Flea? You are anything but a flea, my dear! You are wondrous! A marriage of beast and man in a way I've never seen before. Your eyes alone are fascinating. Ah, but I am getting carried away. Allow me to introduce myself properly!"

*The masked puppet lurches forward and bends into a deep bow.*

"I am Enthera! The God of Theater! You are speaking to me through the use of my beloved pawn, Vern Enthid. I observe from far away, using this very puppet. Searching far and wide for interesting stories. And you have caught my attention. You should be honored!"

*The self proclaimed god spoke verbosely on purpose, trying to gauge the limits of Eira's understanding of common.*
Shirley
The man's movements and gestures drew Eira's gaze, her pupils tracking his actions as he rose from his bow and placed his hands behind his back. His words were a steam of unfamiliar sounds, but the tone and gestures conveyed a certain intention. As the man continued to speak, Eira's antennae twitched with curiosity, her four arms flexing and her snowy white hair shifting slightly in the wind.

"Eira... Wondrous?" She mused, the simple word punctuated by her rumbling voice. The mention of a *"Marriage of beast and man"* And the elaborate description that followed made her tilt her head, her understanding of his words limited but her interest clearly piqued. She watched as the masked puppet lurched forward, bending into a deep bow. His claim of being the God of Theater left her momentarily puzzled. Yet, her genuine curiosity and unguarded spirit remained unaltered, her expression a mix of wonder and innocence.

"Enthera.. Theater God?" Eira wasn't too familiar about the gods, she has never heard of Enthera. However, the memories of campfire stories told by the elders of her tribe flickered through her mind. He reminded her of tales of powerful beings who her elders told her shaped the world. The memories of her childhood echoed through her mind. She and the other young ones would often play games, pretending to be gods and goddesses, imitating the stories they have heard from the elders. They would laugh and create stories of power and adventure, each child taking on a different role in their play.

A faint smile played across Eira's lips as she remembered those carefree days, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. Her mimicry of the man's earlier actions took on a playful quality as she bowed with a touch of exaggeration. Her showy white hair danced in the wind as she tilted her head, her multiple pupils reflecting the curiosity and innocence that still burned brightly within her.

"Eira is.. Eira" She said. A mischevious glint forming in her eyes. With a playful rumble in her voice, she added, "Eira is... Snow Flea Goddess!" Her words were followed by a giggle, a sound that echoed with joy.
Stephen
*The puppet tilted it's head to the side, taking a closer look at the Snow-Flea... Goddess? This thing claims to be a Goddess? How bizarre. No. It does not truly believe itself to be of divine origin. Enthera had spent multiple lifetimes observing the ways mortals spoke and acted with each other. The joy on it's face and it's mischievous giggle were more than enough to tip him off. This "Eira" Character is playing. Like a child. This tickled something in Enthera's mind. He wasn't getting the respect he deserved. He was used to disrespct from Vern. Vern was his unwilling slave, he'd grown for too bitter to be fearful of Enthera, and thus act like a willing peon. But this thing? This thing has the gall to disrespect The Lord of The Stage. Fine. Let's play along.*

"The Goddess of Snow Fleas? Why, you must be rather well known back home. Do all your peons serve you willingly? Do they offer sacrifices to you? Do they beg for mercy? ...Do you bleed ichor?"

*The masked puppet threw it's head back and cackled. Two male voices echoing with laughter, while the female one seemed to sob uncontrollably. It was a chilling effect. The simulationous laughing and sobbing drew to an abrupt close. Suddenly the puppet was right infront of Eira's face. It did not seem to have moved, it just appeared there. Blank eyeholes gazed into Eira's multi-pupiled eyes.*

"We could test that last question, you know."

*He pulls his hand from behind his back, its holding a wicked looking serrated dagger. He twirls it idly in in his hand. He brings it inches from her face before stopping. A mad cackle ran through the masked man, as he suddenly lurched backwards, as if pulled by a string.*

"I jest! I jest! I know that you harbor no divinity. I can tell. You are born and will die like every other mortal. That is not the issue. The issue is that you seem to think I am joking about my claim. I am not. I am divinity, and you should treat me as such."
Shirley
The sudden shift in the puppet's tone, its eerie laughter and the voices echoing within it, caught Eira off guard for a moment. To her, this encounter was a joyful exchange at first but now her expression shifted to puzzled, scared even. When the puppet appeared right in front of her, seemingly without having moved, she blinked in surprise, her antennae twitching in response.

The mention of sacrifices and mercy left her bewildered, as she now shifted her gaze to the wicked-looking dagger that the puppet held. Her head tilted in genuine confusion, her innocence shining through despite the dark undertones of the puppet's words. As the dagger came dangerously close to her face, she instinctively pulled back slightly, her playful smile now completely fading. At this point, the temperature around Eira drastically dropped, the air itself seeming to respond to her emotions. A faint mist formed around her, her ice magic reacting to her growing unease. It was a subtle warning that her powers were at her disposal.

As the pupped lurched back with its cackle, Eira's brows furrowed in response, her expression a mix of concern and an attempt to understand the situation. Eira took a step forward, her four arms shifting slightly as she approached the man. She would extend one of her clawed hands, her fingers twitching with a mix of curiosity and caution. Her gaze was fixed on the porcelain mask that was on the puppets face. Driven by her untamed spirit and her innate desire to explore, she would attempt to touch the mask.

At 8 feet tall, Eira's towering presence casted a shadow over the man before her. Her muscular build, sharp claws, and an air of frost around her added to her daunting appearance. Her multiple pupils stared at him without blinking and while she held no ill will, it was understandable that one might find her rather... Scary looking.
Stephen
*The man does not move an inch as Eira towers over him. He holds completely still as she reaches out a finger to touch the mask. As her moves closer, she can feel a bizarre feeling, intensifying as her finger almost touches the mask. She feels almost... Giddy? The feeling is foreign. It doesn't seem like the feeling should be coming from Eira, considering the circumstances.*

*The puppet closes the last inch itself, forcing its masked face into Eira's palm. Something strange happens. Two voices ring out in Eira's mind. One laughing maniacally, and the other sobbing desperately. Eira herself is flooded with emotion that is not her own. She feels both incredible joy and crushing grief. She's caught between the twin urges to laugh and cry. The two voices cease crying and laughing at once, beginning to speak.*

"Hello, Eira. I must thank you. You touched the mask of your own accord. How sweet of you. You are already halfway there. Halfway to becoming my new... Best friend. Only one thing left to do. Put on the mask. Become mine eternally. Together we will forge a million new stories. This old pawn of mine grows tiring. You, however, will serve me wonderfully."

*As the voice echos in her mind, Eira feels the strangest inclination to do as it says. She also finds that she can understand it perfectly when it speaks to her this way, as if it is placing concepts and ideas directly into her mind.*
Shirley
Eira's already overwhelmed senses were pushed to their limits by the intense emotions and foreign thoughts that appeared in her mind as the mask pressed onto her palm. Her pupils darted erratically, struggling to process the conflict of joy and grief that washed over her. The echoes of laughter and sorrow, the persuasive voice, and her own instincts all collided, threatening to bury her in their turmoil.

Her arms twitched involuntarily, her fingers clenching and unclenching in a desperate attempt to find a hold on her thorn reality. This was a sort of torment Eira had never experienced before. As the words continued to influence her, the temperature around the two plummeted even further. The shimmering aura of ice enveloped Eira. It radiated from her, freezing the moisture in the air and creating an icy mist that swirled around her like snowflakes.

Her voice was a weak whisper as she struggled to find words. "Eira... Too much... Too much," She managed to gasp, fear and distress completely taking over her. Summoning her remaining strength, Eira's clawed hand surged forward, the cold mist swirling around her as she pushed against the puppet. Instantly, she let out a cry of anguish as she fell on her knees as a result of her entire being getting consumed by the intensity of the moment. Her four arms pressed her head as if trying to hold herself together, her sharp claws digging into her skin in a desperate attempt to ground herself.
Stephen
*The puppet fell over limply as she pushed it away. It landed flat on its back, giggling all the way down. The freezing temperatures in the air causes spots of ice to appear of the puppets skin. Yet despite all this, it showed no pain whatsoever. However, its movements were sluggish and jerky as it rose back to its feet. It looked down at the panicking Snow-Flea.*

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You don't take orders well, do you? Just a taste and you're already on the ground flailing like a child."

*In this position, with Eira on her hands and knees, it was now the puppets turn to tower over her. And it did so gleefully. Relishing in the power it held over this innocent creature. Yes, now **This** Was a beautiful story. One of torment and panic. The leering mask gazed down at Eira. It tilted its head like a curious puppy.*

"What a shame... I promise, I can make all these confusing feeling go away in a snap! All you have to do is put on the mask. Nothing will hurt you, ever again. Physically, or emotionally. I **Promise.**"

*It drew out the word promise, both voices slowly enunciating it. Even Eira, with her limited understanding of common, could understand the cruel intention that soaked this word. Enthera reached out it's hand to Eira.*

"Let me help you up. Let me place my mask upon your face..."
Shirley
The puppet's mocking words sliced through Eira's distress. As he rose to his feet, Eira found herself on the ground. The tables had turned, and now she was the one overshadowed by the puppet's presence. Her primal instincts urged her to retreat, to protect herself from this bizarre entity. The mask's gaze bore into her, its curious tilt contrasting with the torment in had just inflicted. As the puppet's cruel promise hang in the air like a dark cloud, Eira finally realised the malicious intent in the offer.

His outstretched hand and his insistence to help her up felt like a sinister invitation, a chilling reminder of the power he wielded over her in the moment of her vulnerability. Eira's pupils darted around, her gaze flickering between the hand and the mask. Summoning her inner strength, she felt a sense of defiance building up withing her. She wanted to reclaim the control over herself.

Her hand shakingly rose from the ground and with a steely resolve, she swatted the puppet's hand away. "No.. Eira... Not... Yours." She drew upon her remaining strength, using her four arms to propel herself backwards, a few feet away from him. The icy aura still swirled around her but it started to falter.
Stephen
*The masked man slowly lowered his hand. He shook is head in mock disappointment. He places his hands behind his back. He suddenly seems to mimic the posture of a disappointed parent.*

"Despite your frosty nature, you have fire in you. I like that. But it seems you still refuse to strike me. With an attitude like that, my dear, you've already lost. Now, enough with your petty defiance, lest I take your mind the hard way."

*He takes slow deliberate steps towards Eira. The mask's iridescent shine seemed to intensify. Once more, he teleports directly in front of her. He is leaning forward, placing his masked face inches from hers.*

"Take my deal. It will make both our lives much easier."
Shirley
A spark of anger ignited in Eira. The puppet's persistence and its attempt to manipulate her emotions had pushed her past her breaking point. She could feel her powers surging within her and as he leaned closer, his masked face almost touching hers, Eira's breath quickened. Her fury has reached its peak.

"Eira... Will not be... Yours. No deal." The air around Eira crackled with an icy energy as she spoke through gritted teeth. The mist around her intensified once more. With a sudden burst of energy, she slammed her foot onto the ground beneath her, the impact sending tremors through the earth. 

The frost rapidly spread from beneath her, crawling along the ground like vines. The moisture in the air froze, forming a growing wave of ice that surged outward in all directions. The mist started swirling around, forming into solid barrier between her and the puppet. She would lower herself down, her clawed fingers now digging into the frozen ground as she channelled her anger into this display of power.

"Leave. Eira. Alone!"
Stephen
*The frost slammed into the puppet freezing him in place as small crystals appeared on his skin. Then the wall of ice impacted him sending him flying across the snowy field. He made no noises as he was sent flying. No grunt of pain, no scream. Nothing except the dull crack of bone.*

*He lay sprawled on the snow. Then he attempted to get up. It was slow going, he was clearly injured. Shards of ice had sliced open his skin and multiple bones appeared broken. Eventually though, he rose to his feet.*

"Oh dear. I may have underestimated you. You are much more capable than I assumed. I take back my statement earlier. You are no mere child. You are much more."

*He looks down at his injured body and appears mildly disappointed. He attempts to raise an arm, but only gets it up halfway before his muscles fail and the limb falls limply to his side.*

"Hm. This puppet of mine is injured. It will not be able to move with much efficiency for a long while. Well, I suppose it can't always be easy can it?"

*It talks and acts like it feels no pain. Yet it is clearly effected by the injuries. It stands completely still, regarding Eira from a distance.*

"What now, Snow Flea? Will you kill this puppet? It won't help you. The mask is what controls this body of mine. So long as it exists, another will eventually find it, and I will have another thrall."
Shirley
Eira watched as her display of power sent the puppet hurtling across the snowy landscape. The sight of the puppet crashing into the ground and attempting to rise again, injured and broken... She had never intended to cause such harm, but the situation had spiralled out of control. Eira's fury had been a reaction to its manipulation and threats, but now she was faced with the reality of her actions and a feeling of dread that started to consume her.

Her hands fell at her sides as she stood up and went around the icy wall, looking at the aftermath of her outburst. She was trembling, it was her fist time actually hurting someone. She knelt beside the injured pupped, her fingers hovering just above its broken form, her heart heavy with regret.

"Eira.. Didn't mean.. Hurt," She whispered, her voice barely audible, her emotions and thoughts in turmoil. The thought if taking a life.. Regret and guilt overwhelmed her senses. She wanted to ease the suffering she has caused, but the idea of ending a life, even for the sake of mercy, seemed to go against her very essence.

She closed her eyes slightly, trying to shut out the overwhelming flood of emotions. Then, in a sudden surge of panic and desperation, Eira pushed herself up from the ground, stumbling back a few steps. Without a word, she turned and began to run, her legs and a tail propelling her away from the broken puppet.
Stephen
*From somewhere beyond the veil of consciousness, the man who occupied the puppet both cursed and thanked Eira. He cursed her for not shattering the mask. But he thanked her for not shattering him. But what the puppet thinks doesn't matter. He doesn't matter. He never did. Enthera, the self proclaimed god of theater watched in amusement as Eira ran.*

"Interesting. Yes, this makes for a wonderful story. Ah, I only hope to see her again. But for now, it seems I must try to mend this broken body. It is of more use to me intact than broken."