corvusalbus93
The Raven Nest
A hobby writer, gamer, fantasy fan, who needed a place to share art, story ideas and random thoughts. If you have questions, go ahead and ask away.
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Archie quest coming...which begs the question: how is our robot dog getting around? My glimmer is on stowaway.
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Me, seeing Hades 2 trending: “What happened? What did I miss?”:
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…they just store it, even the icicles. Have I been throwing myself into fake, non-melting snow each year?
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Closest quote I could think of in terms of possible reactions from Tech.
Alternatively, as soon as they dive:
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Interesting preview, excited about mixing subclasses...and we got to see a few more snippets. Among others what appears to be Cayde covering Zavala and Ikora.
Don’t you dare die again, don’t.
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If I had a nickel for every time a beloved ship, which is also home to the protagonists, got destroyed, I’d have two nickels…
At this point I’m just glad the Millennium Falcon doesn’t feature in any of these shows, or I’d be worried.
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Well, if we go by the online game, it is option 2. In the cutscene depicting Tahu's arrival, his sword shines no light, but already has its flame-shape. Once trapped, he activates it and cuts through the branches, the blade glowing, engulfed in a fiery aura.
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The one reason I use the Annex landing zone at all:
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Need to get this off my chest. A part of me had hoped the armour just looked like his as a nod to the fans, but nope; Hemlock called him Scorch. My boy in Legends:
I could go on, get out the novels... Anyway, TBB:
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Cayde will laugh his shiny, metal tush off, when he learns about Crow not only being a Hunter, but being the closest thing we currently have to a Hunter Vanguard, taking over his old duties. Then give instructions on how to take care of the Colonel.
"cayde will kill crow as soon as he sees him in the pale heart" did you play the game with your eyes closed
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Well, well, well...look whose hand isn't shaking. At least when daughter/sister is in danger.
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Started working on a little sketch, featuring Strife and Mayhem, taking a well-earned nap. Seriously, I need more interaction between Horsemen and their horses. Come on Darksiders 4....
Also, Mayhem’s armour is a night-“mare” (I see myself out) –but that’s why Mayhem needs to be a mare; for the puns! Strife would, we all know it.
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Unrest
Author's Note: A short, taking place near the end of the Nephilim crusades. It’s basically about how the Horsemen (or two of them anyway) found together, before offering their services to the Council. Here, Death learns Strife no longer supports their campaign of conquests, as the two talk, after the Nephilim take another world. Strife POV.)
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It had been some hours since nightfall, yet it was far from dark. Fires still burned all over town, some eating away at the ruins, while around others the celebrating Nephilim had gathered, to drink and feast. Their howls and laughter echoed through the otherwise lifeless streets to be heard far and wide. Strife tried to pay them no mind. Until recently he would have happily participated, but tonight he had snuck away and returned to the ruins.
It had taken him some time to find the house he’d been looking for. He remembered kicking down the door earlier that day, when the Nephilim army had taken the town. He remembered raising his guns only to find himself staring at helpless civilians. Two parents huddling in a corner, their small child between them, shielded by their arms. The look of horror in their eyes.
Strife tensed at that memory.
He’d stood there, fingers on the triggers, and for the first time in his life, been unable to pull them. And so he’d remained frozen in place, until one of his brethren had stormed in, pushed him aside and done what he could not. He had not fired a single shot today.
Now he’d come back, using the curved shard of some pot to dig up the little garden beside the house. Usually, he didn’t like getting his gear dirty, but currently he couldn’t care less that he was kneeling in the dirt. By the time he'd dug out a shallow hole, Strife heard footsteps approaching him. He didn’t turn around, as out of the corner of his eye he could see a figure emerging from the shadows, one of the Firstborn.
“Is it not a little late for looting?”
Strife’s eyes narrowed and he turned his gaze back to the hole. “Maybe I like the ambiance.”
“Careful. Remember who you are speaking to.” Strife was about to make some snide remark, but for once in his life managed to hold his tongue. That guy wouldn’t get it; after all, what could he expect from one, whose name literally meant ‘Death’. Still, the older Nephilim stepped closer, perhaps only now making sense of the hole’s shape. “A grave? I’m unaware of any losses.”
“It’s not for one of us, okay?”
“A native?”
“...a family.”
There was an uncomfortably long pause, before the Firstborn spoke again, the faintest hint of curiosity lingering in his voice. “Why would you care about them?”
Strife stopped digging. “Why?”
“That’s what I asked.”
“No. Why did we take this realm?” Strife got up to his feet and turned to Death, tossing his improvised shovel aside. “We defeated what few warriors they could muster, when we first arrived, but today was senseless slaughter. So, before I answer you, I want to know why.” This was bold, even for him. However, a growing number of nagging questions were keeping him up each night now. And his last job...no, he didn’t want to think about that right now.
The older Nephilim frowned. “It’s but another world along our path. We take what we need, what we want and move on, as we always have.”
“But what’s the fucking point?!” Strife snapped. “World after world put to the torch and for what?!”
He had seen them, realms and civilizations before the invasion, when he went on jobs between conquests. He’d seen thriving cultures, walked across the lush fields, been on words teeming with life. Until the Nephilim came to burn it all down and replace it with nothing. Nothing but ash and rubble.
It had taken him way too long to start asking why, and it troubled him that he had found no good answer.
“Are we just gonna keep doing this until there is nothing left?! Until all of creation is destroyed?!” It was the first time he uttered such questions out loud, and briefly he wondered, if shouting them into a Firstborn’s face was going to be his last mistake. It didn’t matter. Strife gestured to the house behind him. “These were civilians, parents, children...we had no reason to slaughter them!”
Death, if anything, seemed unimpressed. “You never cared before. And now you are trying to do right by them, pay your last respect to this family?” He sighed. “That won’t change a thing.”
“It’s something.”
“It’s meaningless,” the older Nephilim insisted. “Their souls are in the Kingdom of the Dead and won’t know about this. You did this to ease your own mind.”
“So it’s selfish. Is that what you are saying? That is still something.” Strife clenched his fists. “Now what? I’m gonna get punished?”
For a moment it seemed as if Death was sizing him up. “Tell me; what if there was an alternative to our crusades, another path our people could take?”
“I think it depends on what that entails. Are there new plans?”
“Considerations. What do you know of the Balance?”
Strife shrugged. “Not much. Know about the war between Heaven and Hell, laying waste to realms before some council stepped in.”
“Yes; before they could destroy all of creation.”
“Yeah, something like that." He put on a bitter smile. "Why? Are they pissed we’re now doing such a great job at continuing that legacy?”
The Firstborn folded his arms. “We’ve fought forces of both Heaven and Hell before. It’s only a matter of time before we demand their full attention. And that of the Charred Council.”
"That can’t end well for us. So what? We’re gonna make peace, settle down?” He had trouble picturing Death using his scythe on crops rather than people. He had trouble picturing what he himself would do. Strife was a killer, through and through. While his views on their crusades had changed, the urge to fight and kill was still there, probably always would be. Death seemed to think much the same.
“I doubt peace would agree with us. But you are right in one respect; as it is now, we’re just blindly destroying everything in our path. That needs to change.”
Strife recalled hearing him argue with others of the Firstborn weeks ago, though hadn’t caught enough to know about what. Was Death of all people, honestly sharing his doubts? And agreeing with him? It was nice and all, but it wouldn’t matter much, unless...
“Does Absalom see it the same way?”
Death’s eyes twitched ever so slightly, but the younger Nephilim caught it, nonetheless. “Not yet. He’s as stubborn as the rest of us. At least you and I aren’t the only ones, who are...dissatisfied.”
There were others? Somehow this revelation made Strife feel a little lighter. It wasn’t just him going crazy, or maybe there were others just as crazy as him. He was happy with either. “So, what now?”
“I’m looking into a few options. Ways we might end this.” Death looked over his shoulders to the fires, around which their brethren were still feasting, before he gave Strife a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”
With that he departed, disappearing back into the shadows. For a while Strife looked after him, listening, until he could no longer hear any footsteps. What options was he talking about? Strife somehow doubted Absalom would want to end their crusades any time soon, no matter what arguments the Firstborn had. The original Nephilim feared neither Heaven nor Hell, and probably not some council, no matter their authority.
In that case, how far would Death go? A coup? If he found enough supporters, it was certainly an option, though it would mean Nephilim fighting Nephilim.
Strife walked into the house. The bodies were still how he’d left them, huddled together in the corner, though the blood had long dried. He began to untangle them, carefully so, as if trying not to cause further harm.
How far was he himself willing to go?
Frankly, he wasn’t sure, but their campaign of conquest had to end, or countless more worlds would burn like this one. Or the Nephilim would eventually meet their match. Heaven, Hell, Makers; if they could make treaties, how long until they decided to put their differences aside just long enough to deal with them? Even if they didn’t, Absalom would eventually try to conquer the two kingdoms, of that he had no doubt. And that was a fight Strife was not sure they could win.
Whatever Death was planning, perhaps it was the better alternative. The smaller evil in the long run.
Finally, he’d untangled the bodies from one another, and one by one he carried them to the shallow grave. The parents were first, placed so they would be facing each other. The child was last. As he walked outside, Strife looked at the small bundle in his arms.
He had no trouble fighting and killing demons, angels, beasts, creatures of the void or any other warrior standing in his way; he enjoyed it, the bloodshed, the thrill. But not this. He’d found his line. Or maybe he had just finally realized that there had to be a line. It made him sick to his stomach to think how often he’d already crossed it, and before he knew it, he was cradling the bundle, as he stepped into the garden.
Gently, as if afraid to hurt it, he placed the child in between the other two bodies, before putting one arm of each parent around it, mimicking their final embrace as best he could. Nephilim didn’t really have funeral rites, not beyond just burning the bodies, which was the most common practice, since everything tended to be already on fire when they were done. But something about burying them this way felt right. The first thing to feel right in some time.
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This had been meant to serve as a flashback in my discontinued Darksiders Pariahs-story, but I thought it works as a standalone too. Hope you enjoyed.
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#start with whatever setting speaks more to you#vinland saga#cowboy bebop#don't forget about the cowboy bebop movie
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Playing through the games once more and had a thought: This has to be the first time in millennia, or ever, Fury and Strife had a heart-to-heart.
Earlier in the game, Fury remarks on their solitude, how it was just her and Rampage, Lust mentions Fury’s antagonism towards her brothers, Strife changed since the events of Genesis…so this could possibly be the first time these two simply talked and opened up (at least in Fury’s case).
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So, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m torn.
The latest episodes of TBB season 3 once again sparked debate, if Tech is still alive and the shadow/assassin clone, or one of them anyway. While I have my own thoughts on the matter, what I’m torn about is that despite Tech being my favourite in TBB, and I’d love to see him again, I’m also kinda sick of so many characters coming back from the dead or surviving seemingly lethal wounds.
But again, Tech was taken out in what felt the middle of an arch.
As I mentioned in posts way back, he made friends with people, who were dedicated to preserving history, changing some of his views, there hints of him and Phee possibly becoming a thing or at least they were getting to know each other…and with him staying dead, this seems like so much wasted potential/set up.
Honestly, at this point I don’t quite know what option I’d prefer. Anyone else feeling a similar way?
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Went back to university and moved into a tiny apartment, recently. Had to put most of my books into storage, as I could only fit so many into that limited space…
…90% of the ones I took with me are Terry’s, the entire Discworld series. Couldn’t part with them. GNU
Fuck, 9 years today since Terry left us 😢.
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