#Am I fixated on this? ….perchance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snidgetwidgeon · 3 years

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Insurrection Recollections Series: Art Festival

Every year Hyrule Castle hosts an art festival where artisans from across the land can come together and share their culture with the added element of friendly competition. Having been far too long since Urbosa attended, she decides to surprise young Zelda with a visit. While there, she happens upon, and is very intrigued by the Castle Guard's most talented recruit.

Sivul’s Scimitar that I doodled as a prompt from Linktober 2020

Urbosa gingerly ran her fingers over the exquisite gems and sculpted hilt of the curved blade crafted by her master artisan. “This is your finest work, Sivul,” she commented in awe as she looked at her reflection in its polished, mirrored surface.

Sivul grinned and rolled her eyes good naturedly. “You always say that, Chief.” She stretched her neck both ways and rolled her shoulders, finally free of the project. She had fixated on it with such a single minded passion that she had no life outside the workshop, just as she did with every project really.

Urbosa drew her own blade from its horizontal sheath at her hip and compared the two. They were both thick, inlaid with designs reminiscent of Gerudo script and perfectly balanced. “I’d say you have even surpassed your master. The Scimitar of the Seven now has a counterpart, and almost pales in comparison.”

Sivul respectfully went down on one knee, recognizing when she ought to be gracious. “You honor me with such praise. I am glad to have lived up to my master’s craftsmanship.” She heard both blades sliding back into their sheaths and rose. After placing the scabbard back in its pedestal, she started to tidy her workspace a little.

Urbosa leaned against the smooth stone wall, continuing the conversation in a more casual way. “I’m also impressed that you always manage to finish well before your deadlines.”

“Yes, well... that’s just due to possession by my muse- to the detriment of every other aspect of my life,” Sivul admitted self-deprecatingly.

“Hmm, haven’t I told you to get an assistant? An apprentice, perhaps?”

“You have.”

Urbosa’s teal painted lips turned up in a wry smile when Sivul offered nothing beyond that. Cheeky vai. “Well then, you’ll have space for me to accompany you to the festival. I’d like to be there when you win popular choice.”

Sivul’s eyes were suddenly saucers. “Chief! I would- that would be- are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“My dear friend started the festival when she became Queen as a way to bring the people and cultures of Hyrule together through the sharing and appreciation of their art. I’ve missed one too many of them in the past couple of years and I will not do it again. It wasn’t a coincidence that I commissioned this work from you,” she winked. “Let’s give those yuppie Zora a run for their rupees.”

Their arrival to Hyrule Castle was heralded and the standard procession of pageantry was observed as they entered the King’s Court. Urbosa led proudly up the long red carpet, passing between numerous large pillars bedecked with banners bearing the colors and crest of the Royal Family. She was followed closely by Sivul, four attendants that carried an ornate chest perched on two poles, and finally, a group of five warriors armed with a display of Gerudo’s finest spears, scimitars and decadent round shields. The Gerudo always brought a colorful palette that was a feast for the eyes.

As she bowed, Urbosa wondered where her Little Bird could be but was sure it wouldn’t be very long before they were together. This was somewhat of a surprise visit, so she couldn’t fault the girl for not being present to receive her- she had a very busy schedule. Too busy, in her opinion.

“Gerudo Chief Urbosa,” the King’s voice boomed through the Hall. “Welcome.” Rhoam held a smile for his friend but she did not miss the tired shadow under his eyes. It was the very same one she saw in the mirror when she felt particularly run down with her own responsibilities.

“Is this a gift you have brought, perchance?” He asked, gesturing to the chest.

“You’ll wish it was once you’ve seen it.” She felt satisfied when her comment elicited genuine mirth from his features.

“Is that so? I wouldn’t dare contradict you.”

“Gerudo Town’s finest artisan, Sivul,” she took a step back and gestured to her companion, “has brought her craft for everyone to see. We intend to leave with all due accolades.”

He smiled again and very diplomatically stated, “May the best artist win. Please enjoy your stay during the festival.”

With the formalities out of the way, he closed the distance down the few steps between them and shook her hand, transitioning into his standard volume. “I’d invite you and yours to rest from your journey but I was hoping you could entertain me in my chambers for a few minutes?”

“Of course.” She turned to the others, “Don’t wait up, and remember to have fun. This is a visit for pleasure.” Her entourage all nodded respectfully and turned to leave except for two warrior attendants. She looked between them both, “That means you too. Let’s not insult poor Rhoam’s security. I’ll be fine in the castle,” she smirked. They bowed and acquiesced.

The two rulers made their way out of the Great Hall via the East wing. This led down a short hallway to a council chamber that had a very long, dark wooden oval table in the middle. The King offered some small talk as they crossed the room along the wall lined with windows, “It’s quite a surprise that you have made it this year. Zelda will be delighted.”

Urbosa smiled, slightly distracted, and nodded. She had been in these chambers many times negotiating and going over various policies and was glad to finally have a visit that was not duty-bound; though by Rhoam’s demeanor, it seemed she wouldn’t be able to escape it completely. She wondered what news was forthcoming that could not be delivered by official communications.

They entered his private chambers and he closed the door behind them. It was simply furnished with a desk and only a few chairs. There was a bookshelf against the wall and one window that looked out into a courtyard. This room was mainly used for private deliberation during larger meetings or simply as a retreat for when the King felt he needed a breather from all the political squabbling. He took a chair in front of the desk and gestured to the other, “Please, have a seat.”

She was intrigued by this meeting already; he was seated across from her casually as an equal rather than having positioned himself in a place of authority behind the desk. She crossed her legs languidly and pushed her vibrant and thick red hair off her shoulder, waiting politely for him to speak.

“My Adviser Impa has not long returned from an audience with the Deku Tree where she was able to confirm our discovery of the final Divine Beast’s location. Preparations are underway to begin another excavation mission to the Eldin region.”

“Hm, that makes sense. A beast for each race,” she laced her fingers together in thought, elbows resting on either side of her chair. “Then that could mean the soul of the hero will reside in a Hylian.”

“Still as sharp as ever. I sometimes wish you could stay at my table permanently,” he chuckled. As quickly as the humor came, it also went, and King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule revealed his vulnerability to her, as one in a very small circle he would even dare show since the passing of his wife. “I can only hope that it is not to be in our time. Perhaps we are merely a step in the grander destiny of those that come after us, and we must ready the machines for them. Perhaps the sealing power is meant to awaken within another Princess...” He scoffed at himself after a moment’s deep thought, “I sound like a cowardly fool.”

Urbosa uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, taking the hand that had been resting on the arm of his chair. Looking into his tired eyes, she said, “A good ruler always wishes they could reign over a time of peace. But some make the mistake of not being ready for war. You’re taking all the necessary steps. All we can do is try to prepare the best we can against an enemy we know little about.”

He squeezed her hand slightly and replied, a bit comforted, “You have always been a good friend to me as you were to my wife. Thank you.” He pulled away and stood. “I’ve no doubt that I’ll be in need of your ally ship more than ever in the coming-”

The doors to his chambers were suddenly thrust open and Zelda stood there in her white prayer robes, hair frazzled, panting. “Urbosa!” Her sandals flapped on the tiles and were then muffled on carpet as she ran into the room and wrapped her arms around the waist of the much taller Gerudo woman. Rhoam and Urbosa shared a bemused look as she returned the embrace.

Zelda looked up and asked accusingly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“And miss this glorious display of surprise?” She laughed in husky, low tones. “How else am I supposed to entertain myself after a long journey?” She smoothed Zelda’s hair as she smiled with a maternal sentiment. “Would you like to see our entry for the festival?”

“You’re entering?! Of course! Is it down in the courtyards already? I’ll have to go change first.”

“I think it’s still in our chambers until installation tomorrow, but yes, let’s get you into something more casual.” As Zelda flitted out the door, Urbosa bowed politely, “King Rhoam.”

Rhoam returned the bow with a respectful nod, “Chief Urbosa.”

Urbosa practically had to chase Zelda to catch up with her in the Grand Hall but once she strode alongside, Zelda had to try and keep pace with her long gait. They chatted about nonsensical things while in the public eye: Zelda’s studies, devotions and hobbies; Urbosa’s new sand seal, her latest public works, and her continuous bragging that the Gerudo would win the competition this year. Once they were in private, however, Urbosa intended to ask the real questions. When they arrived in Zelda’s room, she smiled politely and waited until the attendant who was dusting made her way out.

“My apologies Princess, I thought you would still be out for quite some time. I’ll come back later and give you two some privacy.” The middle aged woman adjusted her glasses, stuck the duster under her arm and scooped up her skirts in a quick curtsy before attempting to make a hasty exit.

“It’s ok Fria. Actually- before you go, do you know where my light blue spring dress is? I’d like to wear it for the festival. I haven’t worn it recently but I wonder if it’s still accidentally with the wash?”

“I’ll go check for you now, Princess. Is there anything else I can help with while I’m out?”

Zelda pondered the question as she removed her devotional jewelry, placing the pieces in their custom, blue-velvet lined cases, “Hmm. Yes! Could you please lay out my sirwal for supper this evening? I’d like to dress in honor of our wonderful guest, Gerudo Chief Urbosa.” Zelda gestured happily to Urbosa as if Fria didn’t already know she was there; she was just so excited to have her visit.

Urbosa nodded kindly when she was mentioned.

“Of course,” Fria answered. She gave another polite curtsy to them both and gently shut the big wooden door behind her.

Zelda started talking about how dinner was going to be so lovely later, and about the smaller events that would be tied to the annual art festival. As she moved about the room to change out of her prayer robe behind a dividing screen, Urbosa made her way to the large four poster bed with the elegant red drapes and sat down. She stroked the blankets, the decorative one on top was chosen by her dear friend for her baby girl when she visited Gerudo Town twelve long years ago. “How are you really Little Bird?”

Her gentle, yet stern question caused Zelda to fall silent behind her changing screen. “I’m...” She thought of her days, always full to the brim with the same repetitive classes, courtly obligations and fruitless prayers. She came out from behind the screen in her day dress, a less formal version than the elegant long-sleeved blue one she wore to court. Her eyes bore the weight of too much responsibility. “I’m tired.” She walked over to the bed and sat next to Urbosa who wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “I’m tired of having to change into numerous different attire. It’s not fair. Father has much fewer task-related outfits.”

“Hm... I know clothes aren’t the only thing on your mind.”

“Praying is still useless. I don’t understand why I have to keep doing it.”

She let out such a deep sigh that Urbosa baled her up in her lap for comfort. “I’m so sorry Zelda. I wish your mother or I had had the foresight to consider that she might not have been able to teach you.” She stroked Zelda’s hair as she felt her small body starting to shake slightly from finally letting her emotions out.

“I can learn anything else from books, why not this?” A short sob escaped her quivering lip.

“I don’t know vehvi, I wish I knew how to help. You know you can come see me anytime you need to get away from it all.”

Zelda smiled bitterly, “If I could, I would stay with you all the time.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do about getting you a much needed break during dinner. The way to get what you want is to make a good case to your father in public. That way he can’t refuse or he looks like crappy father of the year.” She wiggled her eyebrows and succeeded in eliciting some giggles out of her girl.

“Feeling a bit better already, I see,” she squeezed Zelda’s arm affectionately. “Now, shall we go and meet the others?”

Zelda nodded and hugged Urbosa tight before sliding out of her lap. “Thank you for the cuddles. They remind me of mom,” she said with a sad smile.

Urbosa stood as well, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She leaned down and gave Zelda a kiss on the forehead. “You remind me of your mom too.”

They made their way to the wing that housed the ambassadorial chambers. These were rather overtly opulent and tried a bit too hard to impress visitors in Zelda’s opinion. On the other hand, some guests had stated what a treat it was to stay in such a lavish room so it couldn’t be all that pretentious. When they entered, they found Urbosa’s entourage in varying states of relaxation and inebriation. A few of them greeted her informally, ‘Hey Chief,’ and ‘welcome back Chief.’

Zelda was intrigued by their lackadaisical manner. Urbosa saw the quizzical look on her little companion’s face. “This is a holiday, Zelda. I don’t expect anyone to be putting on airs. Being proper in court is tiresome enough.”

“I’ll say! I put on so many airs during our arrival, I nearly floated away.” The relatable sentiment came from a jovial, dark-skinned woman with dusty pink hair cut short enough that it was spiking messily all over her head, no doubt to be well out of the way while she was metalworking. She had the largest muscles Zelda had ever seen on a woman and she caught herself staring a bit in awe.

Urbosa chuckled at the joke and introduced them. “Zelda, this is Sivul, Gerudo’s finest artisan. Sivul, Princess Zelda.”

“By the sands, you look just like your mother. Such a dainty little vai.” Sivul crouched down in front of Zelda which brought her eye level, and took one of her small hands into her own in greeting.

“You knew my mother?” Zelda asked incredulously.

“Yes, Princess. She was a lovely artist. I even helped her learn how to make jewelry.” Sivul stood again and inquired with a friendly smile. “Tell me, do you have any favorite crafts?”

Zelda’s cheeks went a tad pink with embarrassment. She wished she could be more impressive. “N-no. I just study a lot, really.”

“Oh, but cultivating the mind is one of the most important crafting we can do. I have to put just as much time into myself as I do my work in order for it to be harmonious.”

One of the other women almost spat out her drink, “Oh, that’s sealshit, Siv.” She immediately became sheepish under Urbosa’s stern look, directing her to watch her mouth in front of the present company. She continued with her comment, albeit more politely, “You barely stop to eat or sleep when you get nose-deep in a project.”

“Excuse you, I do my preparation beforehand. That’s all just part of the process.” She placed her fists squarely on her wide hips and gave her detractor a withering gaze, which included a wink at the end to prove she was not actually offended. She then turned her attention back to Zelda. “Would you like to see what I brought before the unveiling tomorrow?”

Zelda lit up and nodded emphatically. “I would, yes!” She followed Sivul over to a chest that sat upon poles on the ground, ready to be easily lifted later. When Sivul waited a beat to open the lid, Zelda glanced over at her expectantly, excitement written all over her face.

Sivul laughed with an alto timbre rivaling Urbosa’s and said, “Sorry Princess, I do love building the suspense.” She unclasped the latches and opened the curved lid to reveal the most ornate and detailed sword and scabbard Zelda had ever seen. They both sat in a frame, the blade on the higher level and the scabbard below.

“Urbosa, this looks like your scimitar!”

“Yes. Sivul’s teacher crafted my blade. She has surpassed her master, something each instructor always hopes for in their students. Well, good instructors anyway.”

“I’ll definitely count my vote for you, Sivul!” Zelda exclaimed.

Sivul grinned and closed the chest. “Hey now,” she began in mock sternness, “I’ll not be having you playing favorites. You vote for it if you truly feel it is the best after seeing what everyone has to offer. They all worked very hard too.”

Zelda smiled and nodded earnestly. She then looked to Urbosa, “May I stay here with you until dinner time?”

Urbosa tackled her with another hug. “Are you kidding!? I’m not going to let you out of my sight for the rest of the day. We have too much to catch up on!”

~~~

The next morning, Urbosa had to rally her troops after they had caroused much too late into the night. She was even missing a couple, no doubt hunting for available voes... They washed with the basins of hot water delivered to their rooms and donned their sirwals, though the warriors remained in their supportive breast plates and boofy pants. After eating a quick breakfast from the fruits, nuts, breads and cheeses that came complimentary to their stay, they departed to see to the unveiling of Sivul’s scimitar.

Walking briskly, they turned heads as they passed through the halls. Even if Hylians had seen the Gerudo many times, it was hard not to marvel at their impressive physique. Their exceptional height, wide hips and toned midriffs were iconic, and admired by many, as well as the bright red hair most Gerudo shared.

In her haste, Urbosa almost led everyone astray, right past the registry room for the festival. “I could have sworn this used to be at the end of the hall...” she trailed off.

One of the exhibition organizers ran over and lead them to a small queue. “My apologies, Gerudo Chief Urbosa. You’re quite correct, we used to check everyone in down that way before but we’ve actually outgrown the space. Isn’t that wonderful? Participation has increased steadily the past few years.”

“The Queen would be so proud.”

She received a genuine smile and nod in response and was shown to the registry where she pulled Sivul out from lurking behind to do her own paperwork. Once that was all done they were taken to an available space in the courtyards that was undercover, as had been requested on their form. Quite a few sculptures they passed were on display out in the elements, while just as many it seemed, had protection. An empty pedestal awaited the sleek and simple frame that would hold the blade and scabbard. Sivul took it from the chest and held it toward Urbosa asking reverently, “Do you wish to unveil the blade, my Chief?”

Urbosa was amused and crossed her arms coyly. “This is your show Sivul, you do the honors.”

Shhhhiiinnng

Sivul drew quickly and smoothly and smirked with pleasure at the faint ring echoing afterward. It had turned heads and a small crowd gathered to watch her place the two pieces in their frame.

Urbosa heartily clapped her on the shoulder, “Well, you have fun playing Q & A with your fans. I’m going to join the Princess.”

Sivul gave her a reproachful look for being left alone to deal with the crowds but she would not begrudge her leader the free time she most definitely needed, and deserved. She then turned to one of her interested parties, a couple with an infant, who had asked how long it took.

“How long? Time is relative. How long did it take you to make that baby? This blade is my baby. Nine months?! Are you sure it’s finished? Our babies take twelve. Yes, really. I was just kidding, it took me three months- if you don’t count the gathering of materials. No, I meant the blade. Our babies still take twelve months. No, really! ...... and on and on.

Urbosa found Zelda in the castle shrine at her morning devotions. She was standing waist deep in a pool before the serenely smiling Hylia, hands clasped together, bedecked with the heirloom jewelry. Her long hair floated on the surface of the water behind her. Urbosa looked on in sadness between the statue of the Goddess and the small Hylian she supposedly inhabited. The poor girl was so devoid of comfort, never acknowledged by the one she entreated endlessly. The serene smile appeared more and more as a mocking smirk the longer she looked upon it.

Without a second thought, Urbosa silently descended the steps into the pool. As she drew near, the water rippled and made a soft swishing noise, alerting Zelda to her presence. She started to turn but Urbosa spoke softly as she sank to her knees behind the child Goddess, “Don’t let me interrupt, my vehvi.” She wrapped her arms around Zelda and held her to her chest, covering her small hands with her own and resting her cheek on the golden hair. There they stayed for an age, sending silent prayers to the Goddess together. And Zelda was comforted.

Eventually, Zelda needed to attend her classes, so with the promise that they would be together again the moment she was finished, Urbosa went for a walk to dry off and collect her thoughts. Short of taking the Princess away, something she selfishly wished she could do, she had to believe that what little she could do would be enough.

She swung by her chambers to collect some attendants. They would be cross with her if she kept parading around by herself, no matter that she was fully capable. Culture, tradition and appearances were also important. They strolled through the courtyards, viewing a section of impressive wooden sculptures from the Rito before reaching the stables. After passing by the horses, which had a similar but distinct aroma all their own from sand seals, her ears perked to the faint clangs and thumps of fighting followed by a whistle. The training grounds were nearby. She grinned to herself wondering if she would be welcome to observe.

Rounding a stone tower, they crossed an archery range to get to the main field. The area was walled on three sides and the upper levels contained viewing alcoves which would also be used for announcements. She could imagine troops being neatly lined up below, attentive to their commanders, ready to serve Hyrule. She casually joined the small throng of instructors, some of whom did a double take as she appeared next to them.

The eldest, most likely mid to late sixties, recovered first. “G-Gerudo Chief Urbosa, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” He bowed politely. “Forgive me, I’m Captain Auru. At your service.”

“I like watching a good tussle so I thought I’d have a sticky-beak with my free time. I hope I’m not intruding?” She stood casually, hip jutting out above her split skirt, making her muscled torso even more of a prominent feature.

Captain Auru stroked his goatee with mild interest at her statement. “Not at all. We’re just finishing the melee portion before moving on to duels.”

“I see. Please continue.”

He nodded and whistled for the final bout to begin. A dozen or so armored fighters wearing a white tabard with the royal crest entered the roped arena, which served to contain the battle. They carried a combination of their weapons of choice. Some preferred the classic pairing of broadsword and shield while others chose to fight with a two handed claymore or spear. Urbosa watched with interest as a smaller fighter quickly caught her eye. They carried a blade only and were so swift on their feet, they seemed to glide through the fight like water, dodging opponents so they ended up engaged with another, or parrying before back flipping out of reach.

Melees had one goal: to be the last fighter standing. How you got to that point is anyone’s choice, and a few fighters decided they wanted to work together against the slinky one.

While she was here, she had another agenda she could bring up. She deviously addressed Auru, “So Captain, do the soldiers get any time to enjoy the festival or is it all work and no play around here?”

He looked to be between distraction from the proceedings and not wanting to be rude so he leaned in slightly and spoke while still keeping an eye on the battle. “I’m not sure we’re too fussed actually. That’s more of a court and populace thing, give them a chance to come up to the castle every now and then, you know?”

“Hmm,” she replied with loose interest. She looked at the arena again just in time to see the group of four succeed in taking down their smaller competitor, though not without losing three of their number. The survivor proceeded to engage the next available opponent where they were summarily disposed of; all of their strength had relied on teamwork apparently. Not a complete negative, but one should most certainly be able to stand on their own if they were to be a competent warrior.

A loose smattering of applause rippled through the training grounds for the victor and Captain Auru blew the whistle to announce the line up for duels. The list keeper shouted for a five minute break for hydration and toilet and everyone peeled off to wherever they needed to be whether it was the privies, benches or water station.

Captain Auru excused himself momentarily to confer with the instructors and he returned with a gleam in his eye. “Chief Urbosa, my colleagues are quite excited about your presence here today. It’s not often we might get the opportunity to let the students spar against different fighting styles. I wonder, would one of your warriors be willing to step into the ring with us?”

Urbosa grinned with a glint in her eye. This was the perfect opportunity to bargain for what she wanted. If she could rustle up some votes from the soldiers, there was a good chance they’d appreciate the art of a finely crafted blade over some abstract shapes in the courtyards.

“I could be persuaded to enter the ring for a bit of fun myself, Captain.”

He and the fellow instructors responded with varying degrees of shock and excited approval.

“But I have two conditions.”

Captain Auru stroked his goatee again. “Name your price, Chief Urbosa.”

“I pick my opponent.”

“Easily done.”

“And you must give me your word that all of you will attend the festival and vote.”

He turned to look at the other instructors and was met with answers of shrugs and unopposed compliance.

“Right,” she grinned and put her hand on the pommel of the scimitar at her hip, “are there any hard rules I should know about?”

“Please don’t kill our students,” Auru jested. “Ah, the usual. Nothing below the belt. If a limb is ‘struck,’” he emphasized a simulation of it, “then that limb may not be used for the remainder of the battle.” He continued with a few more things before she put up her hand to interrupt.

“Captain, I appreciate you have a way of doing things but did you not want to see the way a Gerudo fights? Or would you have me merely demonstrate your own style to you?”

“Eh, you got me there Chief Urbosa. Right you are.” There was an awkward pause before he continued after clearing his throat. “Well then, not killing our students will work just fine. Please,” he gestured to the field, “choose your opponent.”

“I want the short one.”

“Oh, he’s just a boy still, perhaps-”

“And the most skilled of the group.”

“Uh, yes. He is quite the prodigy. Very well.”

She took to the arena and Auru sent one of the others to collect her choice. His day had gone from monotonous to suspenseful excitement and he couldn’t wait to see how this would pan out. He knew Link was starved for a challenge and he knew his class mates would love nothing more than to see him brought down. The outcome of this should suit both parties quite well no matter how it ended.

The competitors entered the arena and stood a few paces away from one another. The whole area had gone deathly quiet. Usually there was low chatter among the peanut gallery but the two opponents on the duel field today had everyone riveted.

Link saw she wore no armor and took off his helmet, chucking it out of the arena, then went down on one knee. The gesture not only humbled him, but also made him appear even smaller. Her inquisitiveness about him only rose.

“Gerudo Chief Urbosa, you honor me with your presence here today. I hope to learn much from you.”

She drew her blade, “Ha! Let’s have some fun, kid.”

Not a moment after he’d risen, Link was taken aback by her quick movements. The crowd gasped as she attacked without ceremony, lining up her scimitar to connect with his head.

Link quickly rolled out of the way and shot up to his feet, grinning. He’d been waiting for this for so long. He was itching to really fight.

She pivoted in place, following where he’d dodged, kicking up dust as she slashed down. He parried with a surprising strength for his size but she quickly recovered and jabbed.

He escaped with a back flip. She’d seen this move from him a few times already during his earlier bouts and anticipated what she could do next when he returned with a flurry of slashes.This boy was quick, but a bit predictable.

That might have been due to a lack of challenging opponents. He was sussing her out, seeing what she could match. He was focused and calculating; something she did not usually see in Gerudo warriors until they were older.

Finally, she sidestepped his onslaught and rammed her knee into his chest. Link fell back in the dirt but rather than be laid bare to a potential stabbing, he used the momentum of his fall to continue in a backward somersault. He stood and regained his balance.

She gave him a short breather, knowing she’d probably winded him a little. The break was long enough for him to decide that he needed to relieve her of the shield on her back.

She nodded at him as she slowly circled a small distance away. “Crafty, aren’t you.”

Link was struck by an idea. He could try it with her, the move he’d recently discovered while training with his dad. Everyone else he had sparred with never challenged him enough to warrant using it. Would he be able to focus enough?

“Again!” she barked as she ran toward him.

All he had to do was dodge and get behind her... just dodge, and slip past. He took a deep breath through his nose and as it left him her pace slowed before she reached him. He hopped to the side, but rather than take the opening to make a shot, he dashed around and jump kicked the shield up and off her back. He slipped it on and stood there with a smirk as she whipped around with wide eyes.

“How could you possibly-” her face morphed from surprise into a challenging grin, “much craftier than I thought.” She twirled her blade twice in excitement as she tried to work out what he’d done.

Even with just that small bit of practice, he felt he could put everything into his next move. He had always been exceptional at parrying blows, even more so with a shield. However, she now spoke again instead of attacking as had been the pattern of the battle so far.

“Why don’t you come at me for a change?” She stood at the ready, a bend in her knee, curved blade held in a relaxed grip, ready to react to his move.

He had to rethink his approach now. His technique had been defensive, but he now knew where he could improve. This was the perfect time to try his attack a different way, see if he could succeed on the offense.

“Hah!” he kicked the gravel out behind him as he lunged forward, watching her weapon arm closely. As he closed in, Link lost focus and they exchanged blows once more. To avoid another knee to the chest, he flipped out of reach before trying again.

She almost lost sight of him as he came for her a second time. How is he doing that!? She blocked his strike just in time and noticed his disappointment.

He was testing a new technique on her. A wry smile spread from the corner of her mouth and she felt momentarily flattered. She wasn’t going to let him have all the fun though. It was time to show him he still had a long way to go, if only to keep him on his toes rather than bored with their current gawking audience.

The side lines were full of wide eyes and gaping mouths as she pinned the tip of his blade into the sand with a swirling down-thrust of her scimitar. Before he could recover she grabbed the shield he’d stolen with her other hand to keep him close and used it as a conductor for her own final move.

His hair stood on end and he was ejected several feet away when she ran her electricity through his body. It wasn’t nearly enough to cause serious injury but it had certainly ended the fight. She was met with a wave of gasps but shrugged them off as she approached him. “Relax, he’s just a little toasty.”

She reached a hand down and he grasped her wrist firmly, letting her easily pull him to his feet. “You alright, kid?”

He hung on for a tick as he gained his balance in the midst of a sway before looking at her dead serious and asking, “Can you teach me that?”

She burst into a husky laugh. “I’m afraid that attack is a one of a kind specialty.” She leaned in closer to say privately, “But you keep it up with those moves you were pulling, you’ll no doubt be going places.”

#breath of the wild #fanfiction #urbosa #young zelda #young link #pre calamity #Art Festival #Insurrection Recollections Series #snidgetwidgeon scribbles

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platebun8 · 3 years

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<h2>Consensual Seductive Intimate relationship Plan Relating to Undergraduate Students</h2>

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Bad Girls Club (Branjie) Chapter 2 - Joley

a/n: you can also read on AO3

“Why am I keeping watch, again?” Brooke Lynn asked in an anxious whisper, looking over her shoulder every few seconds as they walked, as if she sincerely expected someone to jump out of the bushes and catch them.

A’keria rolled her eyes. “Because you’ll take the least heat if you get caught,” she explained, murmuring to herself that letting her tag along was a bad idea and, “If Vanjie wasn’t so horny, we wouldn’t be stuck with her…”

“Both of you shut up, we’re almost there,” Vanessa snapped, the group of five pushing forward until they reached their destination.

Under the moonlight, the lake was beautifully illuminated, bringing a calm, picturesque frame around it. At the right angle, it could’ve been the stock image for a postcard. And it was quiet – a drastic contrast from every other moment of the program – only the sound of crickets and frogs filled the air. Truly, it felt like the only good and pure location they could reach for miles.

Then the girls began stripping and ‘pure’ was promptly removed from the descriptors. That had been the plan – sneak out after dinner for a late-night skinny dip, an act of rebellion both towards the program and the societal constraints that led them there in the first place. It was a moment to be fun and free – they would be damned if they didn’t jump on the chance.

“Hey Vanj, do you think the water’s clean? I bet it’s full of—Vanj? Vanjie?” Yvie made a couple of attempts to get the other girl’s attention, waving her hand in front of her face, before realizing why she didn’t stand a chance.

As soon as Brooke Lynn started undressing, Vanessa was a goner. Her gaze instantly fixated on the statuesque silhouette, watching the way the moonlight bounced off her porcelain skin, the way her toned muscles flexed as she moved. It almost felt too good to be true to be able to get to see her naked like this, so open and exposed.

“Would you like a bucket for your drool?” Scarlet teased, bumping shoulders with Vanessa and bringing her back to Earth, reluctant as she may be.

Vanessa rolled her eyes and shoved her away. “Eat me, bitch.”

“Uh-uh, you’ve got the wrong white girl.” She smirked before following Yvie and A’keria down the dock, a blissfully oblivious Brooke Lynn following the three of them with Vanessa on their tails.

Splash after splash, each girl descended into the freezing lake water, all of them doing their best not to squeal at the jarring temperature change. They all swam to the edge, giggling and catching their breath.

“Why does swimming naked feel so good anyway? Like, I feel like that’s objectively weird, but it’s nice,” Brooke mused, propping her arms up on the grass and looking back towards the main grounds.

“Freedom,” Vanessa offered as an answer. “We got full control of our bodies, choices, it’s like sticking it to the man and shit.“

The other girls nodded in agreement. “That’s so profound, Vanjie.” Yvie toed the line of sincerity. “But we better wrap this up fast if we wanna escape with our lives.” And with that, they all pushed themselves out of the water and towards the pile of their clothes. The fabric clung to their wet bodies, but nobody seemed to mind, still reveling in the experiences all the way back to their respective rooms.

“You know,” Brooke started as she changed into her pajamas. “I felt like I got a lot closer to everyone. It felt like a summer camp moment.” She smiled as she towel-dried her still damp hair. “Is that lame?”

Vanessa chuckled fondly. “Nah, that’s sweet. Don’t tell no one I said that though,” she told her as she got into bed. Honestly, she kind of loved that cheesy holding hands around the campfire bonding she was talking about. “You feeling less boring now, at least?”

Brooke Lynn beamed proudly as she tucked herself in. “I do! And I’m gonna help you too next time. You know, with getting authority figures on your side.”

“We make a good team.” She hummed sleepily before her eyes shut.

——

“I’ve seen you staring at me, Vanjie,” Brooke Lynn cooed as she sauntered towards her. “You like what you see, baby?” She had Vanessa trapped on the bed, hovering over her with a wide smirk.

And Vanessa was helpless, frozen with no desire to move. She gazed up at Brooke with wide eyes, her heart racing. “Yes” was all she had managed to get out before Brooke’s lips were on her neck, hands roaming up and down her body. She shuddered as her smooth, slender fingers trailed down her torso until they hooked into the waistband of her pajama shorts, starting to tug them down and—

That fucking alarm. Vanessa groaned into her pillow, her arm flapping around blindly until it landed on her phone to shut it off. It was as bad a punishment as everything else in this goddamn program. She rolled onto her back reluctantly and noticed that Brooke Lynn wasn’t even in the room, let alone her bed. And, considering the wetness that had pooled between her thighs overnight, she was more than a little relieved.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Brooke chirped as she returned to the room – hair in a high ponytail and dressed in a sweat-stained tank top and shorts. “I just went for a jog. I would’ve invited you, but you looked so cute and peaceful.” She hummed as she got changed. Truth be told, she would have been far too distracted to get any actual exercise in had Vanessa accompanied her. Being around Vanessa in general was distracting if she thought about it – not that she would ever allow herself to.

Vanessa put on her most convincingly nonchalant smile as she swung her legs over to dangle off the side of the bed, toes just grazing the wooden floor. “Yeah, set my alarm like you been telling me, thank god.” She confirmed as she did her hair. “Did you do any of the assignments for today?” she asked offhandedly – anything to distract herself from that dream.

“I did and you can copy whatever you need to.” Brooke shrugged.“Yeah? You don’t have some sort of fuckin’… moral issue with it or whatever?” Vanessa asked with a laugh as they headed towards the other building.

Brooke shook her head. “Listen, I know we’re all here for the same reason, to stay out of trouble. No one gives a fuck if we actually learn anything as long as we don’t make any fuss,” she explained. “Everyone cheats to get ahead in private schools. Better grades get bigger grants, it’s the name of the game, babe.” Not leaving room for a rebuttal, she made her way into the classroom with her breakfast bag in hand.

Vanessa had to consciously close her mouth as she stared after Brooke Lynn. She blinked rapidly and pattered after her. Was that side of her there the whole time? Suffice it to say, more than her interest was piqued.

“How have you been holding up, honey?” Nina asked as Brooke perched herself on her desk. “I can only imagine this has been a bit of a roller coaster for you.”

Brooke laughed dryly, staring off in front of her. Roller coaster was one way of putting it, sure, but a tornado might be more accurate. “That’s one way of putting it.” She sighed, then looked towards her. “Can I ask you something?” After the teacher nodded, she continued. “How do you feel about summer flings?”

“Why, what have you heard?” Nina’s eyes darted back and forth anxiously.

While Brooke did often confide in Nina, the opportunity to deflect and distract was just too good to pass up. “Oh my god, do you have a crush on someone? Here? Who? You have to tell me,” she insisted, bouncing excitedly.

Nina, of course, instantly regretted jumping to conclusions. In retrospect, it was glaringly obvious that the student had come to her to discuss her own matters of the heart. Great. Fantastic. Well, there was nothing else she could do but bite the bullet and confess. “Your home ec teacher, Monét. I don’t know how or why it happened but… Well, I guess it started over a group discussion over how we were going to structure our classes, and we both got mad about how some of the people in charge were talking about you guys. She’s so passionate about making sure you guys still get to be teenagers, it’s so sweet.”

This was thrilling for Brooke Lynn. Some high schoolers might find it weird or gross to know about their teachers’ love lives. There was always that moment when a teacher would come to class visibly pregnant and after the excitement died down, the class was left with the thought of someone fucking them raw. But she didn’t see Nina as a teacher, or any authority figure, really. She was more of an older sister or cousin, a friend with more life experience. So, to find out she was going through such a similar issue? It was nearly too perfect.

“That’s so cute, I’m gonna die. Does she know? Does she like you?”

“Oh, I regret this already.” Nina chuckled dryly and hid her face in her hands. “You know I have no idea when someone’s flirting with me, Brooke. I have no idea.” She lamented before bolting upright. “But don’t you dare try to meddle in this shit.” Her eyes narrowed at Brooke, trying her best to look stern and serious towards someone that was physically incapable of being intimidated by her.

Brooke Lynn gave an exaggerated roll of the eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll be good. I promise.” She raised her hand to swear and hopped off the desk. “I’ll get out of your hair. I promised Vanessa I’d teach her how to skip stones by the lake during rec time anyway.”

Nina cocked her head to the side curiously. “Mateo? Your roommate?” She leaned forward. “Is that, perchance, who you were going to ask me about in regards to a summer fling?”

“Hey, don’t try to deflect onto me.” Brooke laughed despite how red her cheeks had turned. “Good luck with your teacher crush!” she called out, already halfway out the door.

——

“On Ms. Monét? Deadass?” Vanessa asked as she and Brooke Lynn walked towards the lake. Occasionally their hands would brush against each other, but they would always stop just shy of letting their fingers interlace. “That’s fuckin’ wild. You know, she and A’keria been real buddy-buddy, I could have her put in a good word if—”

“Don’t you dare!” Brooke laughed. “She’ll lose her shit if she finds out I told you, let alone have it spread around,” she explained, stopping when they reached their destination. “It feels different in the daytime, doesn’t it?”It was the same lake that they had all been naked in the night before, but it may as well have been another body of water entirely. It was still serene, but it had a vibrant hue and warmth that retreated into the shadows when the sun went down. Now, it’d feel wrong to interrupt that scene with nudity – not that either would be opposed to watching the other strip down in better lighting.

Brooke Lynn crouched down, picked up a smooth stone, and walked towards the edge, stopping about a foot before the land meets the sea and waited for Vanessa to join her. She handed her the rock with a smile. “I want you to give it a try on your own first,” she instructed, taking a few cautious steps back.

Vanessa hurled the stone into the water like it’d just catcalled her from across the street. It didn’t skip, instead crashing into the water with a splash. Even though she doubted that she did it right, she still turned to Brooke with a toothy grin. “How was that?”

“Angry,” she answered, giggling softly. “Like the lake owes you money.” It took a couple of moments to procure another stone that could get the job done, and Brooke placed it gingerly in her hand. “Okay, I’m going to get you in the right position.”

And Vanessa was about to make some sort of sexual innuendo, but then Brooke got behind her and wrapped her arms around her like the pottery scene in Ghost and words were suddenly unnecessary. She felt her hand move from her shoulder to her wrist, placing her arm just so. Vanessa bit her lip – Brooke’s body was pressed right against her from behind, the taller girl manipulating her stance and sending her heartbeat into overdrive.

Was it actually necessary for Brooke to be all up on her like that? No, but she wasn’t about to point that out any time soon. “Perfect.” She took a step to the side. “Try it now.”

To her pleasant surprise, Vanessa got the stone to skip four times before it was submerged under water. “I did it!” Her face lit up with excitement. She turned to Brooke, eyes wide and sparkling with joy. “That was so fucking cool!”

Brooke’s smile reached her eyes as she watched Vanessa bubble over with enthusiasm. “God, you’re so adorable.”

“Huh?”

“I said… I think I heard the bell. We better head back inside.”

——

It was just past one in the morning and Brooke Lynn was wide awake, staring silently at the ceiling. She couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was preventing her from sleeping but avoiding talking about her growing feelings for the girl in the bed five feet from was probably playing a role in it. And normally she avoided staring at her for long, but her brows furrowed, and she rolled onto her side when she heard Vanessa mumbling because she swore, she heard her name somewhere in the otherwise unintelligible noises.

Vanessa lay with her head pushed back into her pillows and her back curved up, though being under her blanket it wasn’t fully visible. That was necessary, as she was doing more than just arching her back under the covers. Her hand was hidden inside her shorts, two fingers pressed against her clit and rubbing in increasingly fervent circles. The other hand moved up under her tank top, groping her breasts and tweaking her nipples, anything to get any more stimulation. Her eyes fluttered shut, letting her imagination take over and her hands do all the work.

For the most part, Vanessa was biting down on her lip, but whenever they parted, soft, breathy moans escaped. But that wasn’t all – when she tilted her head towards the wall, “Fuck, Brooke…” slipped out in a whimper. It devolved back to heavy breathing as her fingers moved down, pressing into her pussy as she only continued to work herself into a frenzy.

Brooke’s eyes shot wide as she flopped onto her back, feeling a blush spread across her face and down her chest. There was little room for misinterpretation – Vanessa was getting off and thinking of her. Her mind went wild with curiosity – was this the first time it happened? Or the more pressing question – what specifically was she imagining? She was hit with the intense desire to run over and act out whatever fantasy was eliciting those pretty moans from Vanessa.

Vanessa pushed her face into her pillows when she found it more difficult to stay quiet. Her hand left her breasts, allowing her to focus on pumping two fingers in and out, bucking into her own touch, chasing the sensation. Her hips started to jerk unsteadily and her teeth gnashing at the pillowcase just to keep herself quiet. And within a few minutes, she was still and silent. Her breathing evened out and she was out cold.

God, if Brooke was having trouble sleeping before, it would be impossible now. It didn’t seem real – maybe she was delirious from lack of sleep. Or maybe she was projecting, some wishful thinking perhaps. Either way, she was left with a hot, throbbing sensation that wasn’t about to go away any time soon.

“Fuck it,” she muttered, hand going into her pajama bottoms and eyes closing. Feelings could wait until the morning, she needed this now.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #teen au #bad girls club #joley #submission

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 6 years

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Backup Babysitter

I have no regrets I have all the regrets

“Bedtime is nine. Don’t let them have too many of the cookies or they’ll be up all night. Telling them a story when you put them to bed is nonnegotiable. They like stories you make up better than the ones in the books.” Morgana paused. “Oh, and remember, if absolutely anything happens to them, you will know my wrath. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Your tone says otherwise, my champion.” Morgana’s eyes narrowed. A barely visible aura of golden-yellow magic flared around her. “What problem is there?”

“None, my lady.” Angor Rot answered. “But when you woke me, I did not think it would be to watch over whelps. The Trollhunter is in this human city. I—”

Morgana stopped him with a glare. “Watch your tone. One of those whelps is my blood son and the other is the offspring of one of my changelings and therefore kin of mine. You will watch over them and care for them for the duration of the evening.” Her expression softened. She held up her right hand, with the Inferna Copula on its index finger. “Complete this task successfully and I will return to you what you most desire.”

Angor Rot’s eyes fixated on the ring a long moment before returning to Morgana. “Very well.”

“Good. Oh and they need to eat all their vegetables or they don’t get dessert.” Morgana leaned around Angor Rot to give both her son and his best friend knowing Looks as she spoke. “Am I clear?” She spoke to them.

“Yes, mom.”

“Yes, Mrs. Domzalski.”

Toby and Jim chorused.

“Good.” Morgana waved to them. “We’ll see you boys in a couple hours.”

In the car, Ralph was still irritable with her. “I can’t believe you thought a good backup babysitter would be an ancient assassin.”

Morgana tried not to huff irritably. She’d agreed to free Angor Rot because he wished it, how much more did he need? Not that Morgana really liked her human husband. Of course not. She was just using him. But still, she preferred it when he wasn’t mad at her. For some reason.

“Oh, come on, Ralph. As long as she has the ring, they’ll be fine.” Barbara piped up from her position in the back seat polishing a massive, extremely sharp battle axe. “Now, you promised we’d be hunting down James.”

“And we are.” Morgana smirked. Really this couldn’t have worked out better than if she’d perchance ordered James to leave herself. Not that she had or anything. A little sprinkling of vengeance and Barbara was turning into quite the acolyte. “Dear?” Morgana turned to Ralph and raised her eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ralph started the car. “but if one of them wants to become an assassin after this, I’m blaming you two.”

#trollhunters #morgana #angor rot #ralph domzalski #barbara lake #momgana #nana's troll husband au #james lake senior is a changeling #im so sorry guys #i was going to call morgana megan but decided just to play it straight instead

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osmw1 · 6 years

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Poison-Wielding Fugitive Chapter 12

‘That might be likely…’

Veno pings and highlights outside, then mutters.

‘You were experimenting with your new skill, did you not?’

Ah, right. How I slew that rat.

‘You had released all that poison on the monster trail. It is possible that something or someone walked into it and succumbed to it.’

That’s ridiculous… How do people even earn experience points in this world?

‘With some exceptions, the quintessence of the defeated cannot be earned if one is too far away…’

As our discussion goes on, the rowdiness outside dies down. I stand stealthily by the window side and peer out. On display outside of the inn was the corpse of the Rose Grey Swordhorn I saw before I went to bed. It’s become a spectacle and there are quite some people surrounding it. Some adventurers are tipping and throwing money in. Moreover, there seems to be merchants discussing some kind of trade.

“It seemed like it’s been weakened, so we decided to capture it alive. We’ve done alright, hey?” “Thank you so much for tonight!” “Casualties were minimal too.” “We’d be rich if this happened all the time!”

The adventurer who captured the Rose Grey Swordhorn brought it to the merchant who seems to be the requester. No way, don’t tell me…

‘… that is what it seems like. It would be a safe to believe that the Rose Grey Swordhorn was weakened by the poison you threw down.’

It’d make sense that I leveled up so much. But even then, is the concentrated swamp toxin really that powerful?

‘Do not make light of poison. Furthermore, Rose Grey Swordhorns are not monsters from the swamp and they have not resistance against it. The poison must have circulated in its system, weakening it, and then the adventurers captured it.’

I don’t know whether to consider myself lucky or not. Well, seeing how I doused the monster’s path with poison, it’s quite likely that it was afflicted by an abnormal status. How does everything seem to work out for me? That, in turn, makes me even more anxious.

‘Consider it an unexpected godsend. By the way, shall we snatch the corpse of the Rose Grey Swordhorn before they cut it up?’

Give me a break. They’re obviously going to go crazy looking for whoever stole it!

‘Aye… In my prime, I would not bat an eye, but it is dangerous to do so now. Not only are we in hiding, it is also not something with which we should get involved. Forgive my mistake.’

Why did you even suggest doing it?

‘Aye. It seemed like as if they were to dress the monster and sell the meat. Since it was poisoned by you, I was merely wondering if it would be fit for weaker humans to feed upon.’

Gah! Wouldn’t that be disastrous? It’d be no joke if I were to wipe out the entire village in a night.

‘Hence that is why I suggested to snatch the corpse… Oh, the village apothecary noticed the meat has been tainted and is preparing some sort of agent to neutralize it. That girl is coming over here.’

Arleaf is? Maybe I should play it cool and go say hi to her. What should I do? … I’d look pretty suspicious if I did that. Like, she found me unfazed by both the poisonous swamp and the miasma. If I appeared in front of a powerful monster that had been poisoned, it’d stand out way too much. It would probably be better if I said I was fast asleep and didn’t know a thing about it. Just to be safe.

‘After all, we are being hunted. That girl had been so kind to us. We should not get her involved in this and bring her any more trouble. You should understand better than anyone.’

I can’t say I really feel the same too, but I know you’re right. Well, we gotta do every little bit to raise our chances of survival… That’s how we get to live another day. With that, I stole some of the adventurers’ experience points and went back to sleep.

The next morning, after a good amount of sleep, I wake up feeling ready to take on the world. … I’d like to believe that it isn’t because I soaked in so much poison yesterday. I set off from the inn for breakfast… is it going to be tough steak and vegetable scraps soup again? I don’t know if I even have a choice. Can’t my meals rank up just a little bit?

“You gon’ be stayin’ here today too?” “Uhh, yes, tonight too, please.” “You got it.”

I hand over the money to stay another night. It really helps me that it’s cheap, but how much longer will I have the money to stay here?

“Oh, there’s a cold spreadin’ around these parts lately, so you best take care of yourself, Cohgray.” “Understood, ma’am.”

A cold, eh? … don’t wanna catch one of those. I’ll be extra careful.

‘I could make you a vaccine. Though I am interested in whether you will catch a cold or not.’

How dare you treat me like a guinea pig?! Ah, whatever… the plan today is to advance my class at the dungeon. When I was a student, I gamed quite a bit. I had even played quite a few tabletop RPGs and MMOs. So, to find out that I can actually change and advance jobs, it really widens my horizons.

‘Aye… it is like recreation of your parallel world. Tabletop… hmm. After this ordeal is over, it might not be so bad to try my hand at it too.’

Veno mutters to himself after peering into my memories. I’d love for him to stop spying on my memories so much.

‘I am just bored.’

Yeah, sure.

‘Speaking of which, I have almost finished processing the pelt of the Midnight Blue Wolf that you had defeated yesterday. I have yet to properly tan it, but after that, you should have a product to sell. It might also be a good idea to fashion it into a bag for you to use.’

He’s sure accomplished lots in the meantime. You’re bored even after such a challenging activity?

‘It is hard living as a dragon without knowing a few ways to kill time.’

He said that with what seems to be smugness. That’s fine. However… Veno, you ate all of the meat from the Midnight Blue Wolf, right? You didn’t gnaw on the leather too because of your oral fixation, did you?

‘Would you not stop treating me with such disdain!’

Seems like I hit the bull’s-eye on that one. Is the Midnight Blue Wolf pelt really alright being soaked in your spit?

‘You… perchance, you know not of the procedures of processing pelt? No, judging by your knowledge, it seems like you believe that pelt is instantly transformed into fur or leather just by stripping it off the flesh.’

Huh, you mean it isn’t? Well, all the experience I’ve had of processing pelt is anything that was in a game, so there would be quite a high chance that I’m wrong.

‘Is it not obvious that you are incorrect? First, strip the skin off the flesh and thoroughly clean it. Since poison has a sterilization effect, I mixed some water from the swamp with marphina and applied it to the skin. I then consume the meat left on the skin and dry the skin out.’

I can only imagine Veno sucking the moisture out from the skin with his mouth.

‘Then, after moderately drying it out, I apply a mixture of swamp toxin and rock salt to the skin. It is imperative to take some time so that the ingredients get familiar with the pelt. Currently, I am at this stage.’

I feel as if he’s a pro at this complicated process, but even then, it seems like it is a lot of work to make some fur or hide. Even though it’s completely automated for me, it’s quite the bother for Veno.

‘If we supply ourselves with some tools or drugs, I shall be able to create an even finer final product. It would not hurt to keep it in mind.’

Even if you put it that way… But anyway, if you use all that poison to treat the skin, won’t there be any ill effects on the person equipping it?

‘It shall be fine as long as we store some well water with storage magic so that we can clean the skin.’

Is that true? Veno’s lecture of hide tanning distracted us from our original train of thought. After all that, we arrive at the town hall to find adventurers sporadically gathering here. As I thought, the request postings refresh everyday in the morning.

Now then, is there nothing that I can do to earn some money while avoiding the lot from the who are chasing us? It would make sense to look at requests I can fulfill while I’m on my way to or at the swamp. Does Arleaf take requests from here too? While that thought is in my head, I looked for Arleaf… but she is nowhere to be seen. Well, that’s okay… I’m sure I’ll get to see her somewhere or other.

I accept a request for poisonous herbs. Not medicinal herbs, mind you, but poisonous ones. That’s kinda sad somehow. Since in a game, they’d start you off with a gathering quest for the safer herbs. Nevertheless, if I know what I’m looking for, I’m sure I’ll complete it in no time. That, and they specified an amount this time…

‘I am still able to hold a lot more with my storage magic. We should gather all that we can, so it would be easier for us in the future.’

Well, as long as we can use them all before they go bad, it wouldn’t hurt to do so. Our objective for the day is to advance my class… I’m at the stage where I should learn more about my surroundings and some common knowledge of this world. Since I have a clear picture of my goal, I walked towards the swamp of poison, just as I did yesterday.

It was easier getting here today than yesterday. Not only do I already have three times the experience I had, just as importantly, I’ve also familiarized myself with the way there. I encountered the same vines, mosquitos, and beetles, but they are no match for me anymore. My sword feels lighter and the enemies seem weaker. Maybe it’s because I’ve simply levelled up. That’s what they call experience, huh?

I quickly arrived at the swamp of poison, and Midnight Blue Wolves… are not around? If there were, though, I could always show them how I fight—escaping to the swamp. And moreover, I’ll blast them with poison stronger than what I could make last time.

It’s just that, well… thanks to my Poison Absorption, the swamp is as comfortable as flowing hot springs. I’ll just pop in for a quick bath before I go home today too. I’m self-aware that I’m really testing my luck with this parallel world, but it’s not like I’m doing anything immoral.

‘Indeed… you can replenish your reserves of swamp toxin as well. You are not doing anything unscrupulous.’

While picking anything that might be useful, I make my way to the dungeon, the one that I went to with Arleaf yesterday. I find the dank, musty room I was looking for. I check out the dilapidated stone altar in here. Hmm? There’s some kind of symbol or statue made of stone that’s been smashed. Is it just me or does it kinda look like a dragon?

‘Either way it may be, I am not sure.’

I thought it’d be a statue of Mother Mary or something like that.

‘There are those who place religious symbols like that as well. Such is the difference between different sects of the church.’

Incidentally, which denomination do the guys who are chasing you belong to?

‘They are of the Teachings of the Sacred Yggdrasil… it is a faith that originates from a tree that a gang of elves worshipped. It was a joint task force between that and the Church of Saint Oevarl. That country has two concurrent religions in play.’

The Teachings of the Sacred Yggdrasil, huh? Hmm… there too are world trees in the world? How fantastical.

‘Heh… there is naught left but pitiable remains of what the elves have exploited.’

Is it just my imagination or does it seem like Veno is ridiculing them?

‘It might seem that way because I am. Elves are the picture of haughtiness. They hogged the blessings of the forest while they ostracized the other races.’

From what I’ve read in the classics, that’s certainly how they’re portrayed as. Moreover, it’s the translation of “elves” that Veno is talking about, so they’re not even the elves of fiction from Earth. So that’s how the elves of this world are.

‘Aye. While they sing their songs with the forest, they monopolized the blessings of the world tree. As they anticipated the end of the world tree, they shifted the responsibility to the future generation and wrested power from the sapling. In the end, the world tree withered, and they lost their home. For that, they blamed other races and instigated wars. That is how things ended up how they are currently. They truly are a foolish people.’

What the hell? A religion like that survives ‘til today?

‘A small fraction of them took tender care of the sapling that narrowly survived. The remnants of that tribe live amongst humans. They grandly spread their religion so that they may survive another day.’

Ah, so the righteous bunch healed the tree, and this is where we are now. I’d glad that there are people who aren’t complete garbage in this universe.

‘… it would have been fine to just wipe out this world.’

Since they’re the guys who are after us, Veno doesn’t hold back. But because they’re also coming after my head as if it’s fair, they can’t be a good bunch either. I’m sure there’s all kinds of people though.

‘It matters not whichever it may be. What matters now is having them let us use their religious symbol.’

Well, you’ve got a point. It’s not like I care much about their personal history.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread) (support Average Translations)

#Poison-Wielding Fugitive #PWF #Average Translations #osm #毒使いの逃亡者

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mayleavestars · 3 years

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INTRODUCTION: JESUS THIS IS CRINGE

Here’s an introductory thought: capitalization has ruined everything forever.

When it comes to capitalizing or not-capitalizing online, especially in the case of ‘formal’ writing, and ESPECIALLY if zero professors are reading and grading it, there is no ‘good’ answer. Maybe this is as a result of everything I do feeling fundamentally affected. I’ve spent the entirety of my life putting ‘thought’ into self-presentation and how it affects people. This is probably my fault more than anybody else’s.

the fact of the matter is, if i write like this, then i’m trying to be “poetic” and “e.e. cummings”, and if I write like this, then the Rose Lalonde kinnie in me is only held back by the fact that a true Rose Lalonde kinnie would never admit to kinning Rose Lalonde. Also, I'm not about to claim I know what ‘kinning’ is and whether I’ve ever experienced. I am open to being kin-assigned by all who care to provide input, but that’s the same thing as willingly participating in my own ‘kinning’.

(Also, if i had a kin list, it would have harriet vane on it.)

is the answer to capitalization, then, to be wildly inconsistent? to eschew punctuation along with capitalization to demonstrate that im not and will never be claiming to be e.e. cummings because at least presumably he used apostrophes? (dont correct me if he did.)

Or is it perchance to type like jake english thus heroically reaping the benefits of just one tantalizing capital letter per sentence? Really makes you think does it not.

probably not the last one but HOW FUNNY would it be if i typed like that for the rest of my life.

the fact of the matter is that blogging is a fucking pain in the ass because reading the blog of anyone i know in real life is a fucking pain in the ass. performance is embarrassing when people know you’re doing it! sending gene my fanfiction is always fun because he can determine with razor-sharp precision the bits of my own psyche that dribble tantalizingly into dirk strider or terezi pyrope or whoever you want. i think that kind of thing is extremely fun! and microblogging is nice because if you drop little bits of your thoughts into the world, nobody knows exactly how authentic they are because they don’t have the space to analyze it.

the issue of blogging is that it is public, longform, and consumable. it’s half public journal entry, half nonfiction essay. it is both reflective and personal and, somehow, entertaining, though there are very few thinkers i find compelling enough to willingly subscribe to Everything Their Voice Says, and very few people i can imagine doing this for me, even people who i know love me! so maybe this is exposure therapy or maybe this is an experiment that will fall apart within moments.

online has always been like this, and also my real life has always been like this. there’s a snippet from a journal entry i wrote in 2016 that really got it.

“i think hamlet has got me thinking about self-image and performativity, because obviously the whole play is obsessed with like, the acts that people put on and how we're seen and who watches us and whom we watch and what's an act and what isn't. and like, i'm really not at all like hamlet, because i'm not proto-nihilistic, or a raging misogynist, and i also highly doubt that i've got depression. which hamlet obviously does. but i think that something in me obviously connects to him - not directly, not like i connected to antigone, but . i don't know, i'm a distinctly emotional person who is also highly fixated on the way the world sees her, and also on how she sees herself. i say "i'm talking to myself", but i'm not - i never talk to myself, but i do address an audience that i can't see but that can see me. that makes it sound like i'm convinced that people are watching me 100% of the time or something and - i do say these things for myself, so to speak, but not to myself. i don't write this journal to myself... i keep on imagining my past self, or someone in the future, or someone i know, reading it and reacting to it, because like i said above - i can't do anything if it's not for an audience of some sort. which implies some kind of implicit belief that what i'm saying is not only worth hearing, but also worth the rapt observation of people i know won't exist.”

first of all, “i don’t have depression but the people i relate to most [my kinlist] are hamlet and antigone. im normal. im regular”

secondly, this doesn’t hit as hard but it still hits. i am posting this publicly, after all, aren’t i?

#entry #technically we're all larping because the self is a construct

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claustrophobicfandom-blog · 7 years

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What’s Your Name Again? ~ Ajax (DEADPOOL)

Part 2: Know My Name Now?

Pairings: Ajax x Reader

Words: 1.299

Warnings: Light Smut, language

Part 2: Know My Name Now?

Goddamn you Wade and your crazy ass.

You wouldn’t be in the situation you’re currently in if Wade would have just given you the CORRECT address and not the damn one leading to one of his enemies warehouse.

Initially, you were told by Wade to go pick up a shipment of guns that he bought from this higher-up dealer. Of course questioning why Wade couldn’t pick it up himself would just result in the same response you usually got: ‘don’t feel like it’ or ‘gotta keep an eye on the oven.' You never argued with him about it solely because Wade was already annoying as is and you didn’t need him to add on to that; besides you were getting paid pretty damn well.

Just wait till I get out of this god-forbidden mess Wade, just you wait.

“What’s your name again?” The English man asks intriguingly, a smirk across his face as he wipes his dirty hands all over his white tank top.

“Doesn’t matter.” You mutter under your breath, coughing at the lack of oxygen in the damn place; questioning how the hell he’s able to survive in a location like this. It felt as if you were stuck in a huge blown up ball.

He lets out a faint, deep, menacing chuckle as he comes close to you.

Oh no, please back up.

“You’re just a ray of sunshine aren’t you darlin’?” He cocks his head to the side, eyeing you as if he’s trying to understand what you were thinking. What he’s attempting to read is unknown, but his eyes seem to fixate themselves on your chest; you wished you’d have worn a jacket and not a v-neck shirt.

“I’m going to be a fucking storm if you don’t back the hell up.” You smile, trying to wriggle your hands free from the damn material that Francis used to tie your hands.

“Oooo feisty, I like that baby.” He laughs but obeys your demand and backs away from you, his eyes lingering at your chest for a couple seconds longer. “Who do you work for?”

You go to open your mouth but then think otherwise. If you told him you didn’t work for anybody, he probably wouldn’t believe you; if you said that you work for Wade then something awful may happen; you weren’t about ready to find out what that was.

“Doesn’t matter.” You repeat the same phrase. Perchance if you keep repeating it, then he’ll get tired of it and just let you leave.

Or maybe he’ll kill me?

“Oh sweetheart I think it does,” he starts to come back over to you after basically just walking in a small circle, “because I would like to know what my competition is. What it’ll take to have a gorgeous girl like you to work for me.”

Although this was starting to annoy the hell out of you and the oxygen levels seemed to decrease, you couldn’t help but get the feeling of butterflies in your stomach when he called you pretty. He was attractive himself also but-

Oh my god, am I having these thoughts right now?

“What makes you think I’ll ever work with a piece of scum like you?” Calling him trash was the nicest thing you could think of because, in reality, you were questioning why the hell Wade’s enemies have to be so bloody beautiful.

“Because I can give you much more than that piece of shit Wade ever could.” He points out and, noticing your eyes widen; he starts laughing, “I’m not stupid darling, why else would a pretty little thing like you stroll into my workshop. Wade’s got connections with so many sexy women, but I must say, you’re the only one that caught my eye.”

Ashamedly you weren’t able to hide your blush from his flirtatious comment. He was right when he said Wade had many impressive women working for him and you always felt like you were on a shallow level when compared to them. Wade never took the time to compare you to them positively or negatively but you would always hear his crude comments to some of the other girls. Sometimes it hurt but then you remembered that you were Wade’s best worker, so it didn’t bother you too much.

“Something tells me you don’t get enough credit for your beauty, do you?” He doesn’t seem as dominant anymore, he’s a bit more relaxed and so are you. It didn’t look like he was planning on breaking any bones or killing anyone so for right now you were going to be cool with him.

Maybe that’ll get me out of here faster.

All of a sudden he pulls his shirt over his head and uses it to wipe the sweat off his face.

Holy hell.

Looking away, you prevented yourself from getting too hot by looking at his toned chest. From the quick glance you stole, it was clear that this man worked out, and at the moment you would do anything just to run your fingers down the valley of hs abs.

Bless whoever had the chance to touch him.

“You know sweetheart; I’d give anything to have you work for me.” He sighs, throwing his shirt off to the side. To your surprise, he reaches behind you and starts fumbling with whatever the hell he used to tie your hands with in the first place.

“Why do you want me to work for you so much?” You ask, twisting your hands and trying to get the life back in them since he had tied you so uncomfortably tight. Although this would be the perfect chance to knock him out and get away, you decide that Wade could wait. Why he and this guy were enemies was past your knowledge, but this man didn’t seem to be an enemy to you.

“Because I told you, you’re gorgeous.” He smirks, tilting his head to the side.

“If that’s the only reason why you want me to work for you, then you can go screw yourself.” You mutter, pushing him out of your way and standing up from the chair. “There’s a lot more to me then just my looks.”

He grabs your arm as you’re about to walk away but before you had the chance to react, he pulls you to him and kisses you softly.

“I know darling...” His voice is low and husky, his lips barely brushing against yours. Your eyes lock with his, and you contemplate on whether or not you want to reciprocate the kiss considering the situation right now, but you must stand your ground no matter how tempting it is.

No matter how soft and sinister his lips may be.

“We’ll see.” You whisper, your tone more seductive than you want. “But for now, I have a job to get done.”

You take your fist and slam it as hard as you can into his crotch making him double over in pain, but you get a firm grasp on his ‘special babies’ and make sure to squeeze tight enough for him to feel pain. “Let me make one thing clear though alright?”

“W-What?” He winces.

“Don’t ever tie me to a chair like that again...” Leaning in towards his ear, a smirk starts to tug at the corner of your lips. “Unless you’re intentions are more... kinky.”

Shoving him away from you, you chuckle as you start walking away from him. “I’ll think about it alright?” Turning your head towards his direction, you don’t stop walking as curiosity sparks your brain, “what’s your name again?”

“Ajax, but you can call me Francis.”

#Ajax #francis freeman #ajax x reader #marvel #francis x reader #deadpool

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tomerasange · 5 years

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Chapter 8: Tresendar Part 2

As we stood steadfast in front of the new opening, a sudden wave of fear filled my person. I didn’t know whether to embrace this emotion or start worrying again for our safety.

Walking through a small corridor, the room opened up into a crevasse that stretched on, nearly encompassing the width of the manor. From beyond our position, we could fathom how deep the expanse fell. It was beginning to set in that Tresendar had been quite abandoned for some time, but to think this damage had been incurred over any period of time would be difficult. This used to be, assumably, a grand foyer where the head of the estate would entertain guests and hold the parties assured to be the talk of the town. Now, it was desecrated, the floor giving way and only traversed by two wooden bridges.

As I entertained flights of fancy which included restoring this manor to its glory of yesteryear, I saw Fardahr begin to approach the edge cautiously. His gaze seemed fixated on a point when he paused, frozen. I couldn’t see his face, but he seemed to be talking lowly. He then said, “I am Fardahr”, as though talking to a hidden force. We were not alone in this room.

I approached the edge with caution, so as to see if the dwarf was fixated on a point when a malicious voice came into my head. It spoke with the intent of fear. “Ah, traveler. What have we here? Perhaps a young man with a sword. State your name.” “I am Tomera Sange of House Sange.” “I am hungry. Feed me.”

I realized the voice was coming from the crevasse itself, and as I peered over, I caught wind of the stench it was emanating. Beyond the edge lie a drop, manageable to traverse but deadly if one lacked the dexterous capability. At the bottom of this pit, I could make out several items that did not instill a sense of security. The floor was caked in a layer of sanguine, producing the noxious iron scent that was giving me quite the vapors. Sets of fractured and scattered skeletons and bodies dotted the ground, the victims of overeager greed and foolhardy trust in a lack of skills. The bodies must have been here for some length of time, and yet here they sat, still decaying as if killed within the week. Clearly, the work of the disembodied voice.

I realized I had the chance to aid, or at least satiate, this voice. Should it have been the pit itself, I was to feed this without pause lest we meet a fate. I withdrew a dried ration of food from my pack and threw it to the pit. As Fardahr and I stood in anticipation of what was to arrive, there came a blur that ran out into the pit. As it happened upon my ration, we could see the creature.

It stood roughly as tall as I and appears gaunt and sinewy, as though a tarp of bloodied flesh had been stretched over the skeleton of a particularly large goblin. It scratched with claws at the ration and bit with a fierce gnashing that resembled starved wild pigs. But most concerning was its brilliant eye, iridescent green, a violent all-seeing orb whose shade struck me as traumatically familiar, and I could not help but gasp.

As I reeled in slight shock, Fardahr, still beside me, held his head in anguish. The eye was focused on him and it was clear the creature meant us great harm. I drew my bow and managed to retreat from the edge of the cliff. As I did, it leapt the massive height in one jump and fell upon the bridge to my left.

Urnig cast a blast of ice towards the beast and Aurora unleashed her harp’s dissonance, both finding their mark but not causing too much in harm. I lined up the shot and fired with all confidence, which was shattered like my arrow, as the beast used an uncanny speed to catch the arrow and break it in two. I backed away even further, knowing to get even close to that thing could spell the end.

Epide, still floating in his magic bag, held his arms out and commanded movement. The ceiling shook and a massive portion of the stone from above gave way, falling nearly tall as the crevasse was deep. The demon dove away, taking shrapnel in the form of small rocks. Without any hesitation, it struck back at Epide, with claws and gnashing. The only way he didn’t take damage I imagine was his size and dexterous nature.

As the impasse settled, Urnig suddenly held his hand aloft and stared down the creature. “You said you need to eat. What if we were to feed you?” It held its stance. “Feed me now.”

Urnig threw his pack on the ground and opened the top. From the recesses, he withdrew a jar of pickled vegetables. He later recounted to me that these were mild peppers, retrieved from a supply closet next to the holding cells we had absconded the Dendrar family from. Tossing the now open jar in the general direction of the beast, he held his breath as did we. It approached the jar on the bridge with mild interest, cocking its head, as if it had never seen a food such as this. It grabbed at the peppers, and shoved them immediately into its maw. The sight of the food grinding and chewing nearly turned my stomach. “More” the beast demanded.

I remembered in a flash that there were stockpiles of food to satiate the creature in this very manor: the salted meats. I turned to Fahrdar and recounted this. “Perhaps it would be advantageous if we were to use this time to collect these meats, for our safety.” Addressing the beast now, I said, “We have plenty to feed you if you would allow us time.” Despite its vicious appearance and massive eye that consumed the form, it stared with incredulity but resignation.

Within minutes, we had procured two barrels of meat and placed them at the feet of the beast. It consumed with such ferocity still, and the sight was too much to bear. The violence enacted was total and unrelenting. As soon as the consumption began, the creature halted and pointed into the crevasse. Fardahr stared into the pit and cocked his head. “I have a feeling the beast demands us to enter into the pit.” He slid down into the hole and traveled north into darkness.

The beast continued to eat the meat and peppers, a feast I would have loved to perchance nibble upon were it not for the greed of our diner. Fardahr let a whoop of excitement as he returned. It was clear the previous tenants had fallen into the hole with their wealth, as he laid a king’s ransom before his feet, which including a mighty sword engraved with the phrase “TALON”. It seemed the further we traversed, the rewards for my comrades grew in numeration while I stood in silence, bare and meager. This day continued to fare poor in decrescendo on my behalf.

As I looked away from the continuous sight of the feasting demon, I heard a cry of “NOW” and two bursts of light illuminated the room in total brilliance. Urnig and Fardahr had let loose their bolt of magic towards the beast, the holy light of a cleric providing the killing blow on top of our previous salvos. All that remained was a beastly goo and ash. We took this time to hunt around for further valuables.

Epide found himself a room of beaver pelts, surely worth a fetching sum, but the glint in his wild ruby eyes said he had other thoughts on their uses. He recounted to me. “You there! Help me with these! Epide will make pouches, big ice bolts! Fire at enemies!” The very notion of wasting beaver pelts on artillery. Whoever heard of such a scene? Yet, there I was, hoisting beaver pelts into my pack.

As we scrounged around, we heard a familiar voice. “I leave for a few minutes and you take on a beast and find a treasure without me? This is a raw deal, not going to lie.” Artemis found herself back into the chamber. I recounted. “Terribly sorry, darling. I would have believed you would returned to Phandalin in safety with your earnings.” “And miss the opportunity to run these pricks out of town? What do you take me for, fancy lad?” I’ll admit, her tenacity was admirable. only undercut by the sudden noise of retching.

Fardahr had attempted to collect some form of ectoplasmic sample, and the stench of meat hitting acidic fluids was so raw, he doubled over in nausea, vomiting his breakfast on the floor. He stood up in an attempt to gain some traction in our eyes, but only still fell again, moaning in pain.

My hand immediately drew a kerchief to hold on my person, lest the entire week of food I consumed meet the same fate. Fardahr waved any assistance off, and eyed his way back to the door outside. He shuffled back, pale as my normally porcelain visage.

We reconvened and took our time in shuffling over the bridge to another chamber. A small hallway met us, as well as two branching paths. The small and cramped area forced us to line up in a file. We took the advantageous situation of not having anyone actively hunting to wait and plan our next move. To our left, we could suddenly hear a scream of terror and peals of laughter, which increased our need for expedient planning..

Having well and truly found myself in a foul and sour mood, I elected to cover the rear, as a method of feeling out the situation. Should the battle turn in the favor of our enemy, I would abscond myself to the door behind me, where I could hear very little in the way of movement. From the front, I heard Epide cry, “Rogue, behind me”, as Artemis backed up behind the floating Genasi.

What occurred next, I have very little understanding of, given my inherent lack of magic. Effectively, Urnig and Epide combined their forces to see inside the room. Each instigated a spell of illusion that 1) hid the fact the door was being opened and 2) removed traces of a person entering. This plan was concocted for nearly ten and five minutes, and in theory could have done wonders. What i can tell you about Illusion magic, courtesy of a teacher of mine, is that very small illusions carry with them the flaw in that they are easily broken.

As Urnig entered the scene, he could see two bugbears and a goblin. The larger creatures were taking their time in toying with their smaller and defenseless cousin, in terms of taxonomy. As Urning stepped into the room, the two bugbears immediately turned their heads. but did not react in knowledge of another presence. Artemis took this as the signal, and fired a shot through the illusion. The bolt struck a bugbear, and they drew their weapons.

The melee, confusing and rampaging, broke down as such: Urnig dove into the room and commanded his ray of frost against the two bugbears. They took the full impact, and swung wildly, nearly catching Epide in the crossfire. Aurora commanded fire to be born from the floor, catching a bugbear. Epide also floated in the air still, and was caught this time, scorching his obsidian flesh, Epide commanded the earth beneath the fire to be rough and coarse, forcing the bugbears into a disadvantageous position regarding movement. As everyone took their shot, I leaned against Urnig’s abdomen, as he had retreated following the ice bolt. I whispered, “Excuse me, pardon me.” and fired an arrow down the line, calling “Arrow!” The hallway, seemingly cleared of most people standing above 4′ tall, was not a moment of certain friendly fire, and my arrow sunk into the bugbear.

Again, Urnig commanded ray of frost, silencing one of the bugbears for good. Artemis took this chance to reemerge from her side hallway. In her haste, she nearly tripped into the fire, but prepped her shot in a hold. Urnig later recounted he heard the goblin shriek, as the bugbear commanded it. “Fight them, or face my wrath alone!” The goblin quivered in fear, and threw itself over the fire, choosing to fight us. Artemis called out as the goblin was singed. “Do you want to save the little one or the big one?” “If we’re going to save him, I’d prefer something be done now,” Aurora said.

The spell scale dropped the fire and reignited it where the bugbear was standing, the smell of burning unwashed fur flooding the hall. I caught myself and held firm, knowing this was, at most, the fourth worst smell I had to endure this week. As a precaution, I pressed my ear to the door behind me, and could now hear a group of men shouting incoherently in a row. Just then, I also heard the sound of clinking coin and tankards. A gambling den.

Urnig spoke a bit of goblin to the melee’s newcomer, who seemed well terrified of the ordeal. As a way of intimidation, Urnig flash froze a wall, proving his continued attitude of murder first, speak later, only scaring the goblin in my direction. Epide dipped and dove around the bugbear, screaming, “Ha-ha! Missed my pouch!” all the while. Artemis took another shot at the bugbear but tripped on the uneven ground Epide had commanded.

There I stood, face to face with a goblin, he scared half to death. I felt bad for the creature, but not so bad as to forego subduing him. I reached for my axe, and swung lightly with the broadside. The goblin, well scared, dove out of the way and swung his morningstar in retaliation. I took a shot for my want of helping him. He seemed to gained a bit of momentum from his strike, when his head exploded in front of me. His brain struck the wall, the result of an ice bolt. I couldn’t prove Urnig was the culprit, given he was out of my line of sight, but all of my instincts told me Urnig was the culprit. Aurora, must likely as sick as I of our fellow fighters, ended the battle. Her rapier swung true into the back of the bugbear, who fell with a crash.

As the silence returned, the party had a realization, courtesy of Aurora. She began, as we collected ourselves, “While this was the perfect opportunity to see what lies in the other room, if we continue on this trajectory, we will alert Glasstaff to our intent.” I did agree with her, but in addition realized several drunkards would be slim pickings. We could subdue their numbers and draw out information pertinent to our cause.

We drew up a split. I would lead Urnig and Artemis in reconnaissance and instigation against the four men inside, while Aurora and Epide would swing around the back using the crevasse and search for Glasstaff. If we came across a fight, they would elect to choose to fight or keep searching for our foe. Before we concerned ourselves with the execution of this plan, I had come to the conclusion Epide had taken quite a few shots in the last encounter. I rummaged through my sack and retrieved a potion of healing and presented it. “Epide, drink.” “Thank you, Genasi,” and he greedily gulped it in haste.

Urnig took point at the door, Artemis held a bow ready, and I drew my rapier and shield, the dragon of Silverymoon royalty crest on the latter commanding my being and psyche to war.

Nearly an hour passed as we rested. We held fast, waiting for any one moment to gain a foothold using sound as our ally. The men inside were imbibed so that our presence was not detected. In a moment of calm, we stood and I gave the signal. Urnig threw out an ice bolt and Artemis came with an arrow, striking two men square. They retreated and I stood forth, ready to command my attack. I swung with all confidence... met with a face full of off-smelling liquid. One of the drunks was so frightened by my presence that he threw his beer in my face in terror, cutting off my plan.

Something inside me shifted a bit. I was alone in this room, staring down four men inebriated and shocked. My backup had already found themselves back in the hallway, and had no doubt seen this sudden change of fortune for me. The four men drew their weapons.

There is an art in diplomacy, but there is beauty in war.

The men, one by one, swung their maces and each one was blocked by my shield in turn. “Your form is sloppy,” I bit from my silver tongue and spat out. Dancing in time, I stabbed one, but his lack of perception forced him upright. As I believed myself abandoned, an ice bolt shot past to my right. Artemis danced into the fray and jumped on one of the men, stabbing him and killing him without mercy. I cried, “Finally! Someone with form!”

This is what I craved for so long.

One of the cowards fled out of the room through another door. I turned to face one of his fellow fighters, and with decadent malice, stabbed the rapier through the side of his throat. There was no hesitation. The arterial blood spray coated my face and leathers.

This is ecstasy.

We subdued our final man, and the vagrant who fled had run head first into Epide, poking him with a stick, crying a taskmaster’s shout. The two survivors were tied up to the quick by Artemis, restrained in their chairs. I side-glanced at the knots and realized, hot under the collar, what her dexterous halfling fingers were doing. I quickly jotted notes on parchment, swearing none of the others would see them.

One of our prisoners was crying spittle and weeping. In a sudden reaction, Urnig hefted a barrel in the room and cracked him over the head, his body slumped over. That left the one man, all for me. I started by gazing at the table, a mountain of gold and electrum, silver and copper. These high rollers would not see their hard fortunes again, as I collected my prize, my earned wages. With the table cleared, I began my interrogation. I propped myself up on the table, and crossed my legs, staring our prisoner down with a wry smile.

All for me to play with.

#dnd #dnd story #lost mine of phandelver #tomera #air genasi #fighter #story #story log #spoilers #chapter 8 #cw: blood #cw: murder

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