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sekhisadventures · 1 year

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The Family Business

Year 38 After First War, One Year After the Defeat of Zovaal, Darkshore

Along the coast, a small sapling stood. It wasn’t as sturdy as the other trees nearby, but it was growing strong, its leaves a bright healthy green on sturdy branches and its roots going deep into the soil. The remains of a few bird nests dotted its branches from the past spring and there was a small family of rabbits sniffing at the acorns around its roots, eager for something to gnaw their teeth down.

Presently a squirrel was poking at a knothole, hoping to enlarge it in order to make a place to lure a mate and raise some pups.

It had only been there for just barely a year, but it was doing well. In a cleared-out area full of tree stumps showing the marks of goblin shredder blades, this tree was a sign of renewal, of the forest’s regrowth.

Orgrimmar, the Valley of Strength, Vulpera Encampment

An older female vulpera checked their luggage, noting what goods they’d stocked up on and what they could hope to trade. They had a few vulpera handcrafts, some dried foodstuffs, a few sets of tools and other useful things, and of course any vulpera worth their tails could spot and scavenge whatever they thought they could need or sell along the road.

“Alright Risala, the kits are all in the wagon and the goods are secure. I’ve been reviewing the map that I got at the general store, and it seems the roads are pretty clear here. It’s a straight path south of Orgrimmar to Razor Hill, then we'll cross the bridge to the west and head to the Crossroads, then south towards Mulgore.” said an older male vulpera, the mate of the woman Risala.

She grinned back at him, “Its going to be good to be on the road again isn’t it Atu?” she asked, her tail swishing behind her. “I mean, its been lovely having a safe haven in Orgrimmar… no worrying about the Faithless or scorpids or anything like that… but if I stay in the city walls for another month, I swear I’m going to lose my mind…” she chuckled.

Atu smiled and nodded back, padding over to her, and giving her a hug. “Back on the caravan trail again like proper vulpera.” he replied, then chuckled as his wife gave him a quick lick on his cheek fur. The vulpera equivalent of a kiss.

“I do hope we can hire some guards before we go out though… most of ours wound up taking up mercenary work after all.” he frowned a bit, mercenaries were expensive, but while they didn’t have to worry about attacks from Alliance soldiers anymore there was still plenty of dangers out in the wilds of Azeroth.

“Ma! Da!” came a high-pitched voice as the two looked back down the path.

Walking towards them was a young vulpera girl with sandy fur, dressed in a colorful skirt, a red silken wrap top, and a matching headscarf, a colorful and slightly glowing blue backpack resting on her back. Their daughter, the musical shamaness Sekhi. “I found some guards for th' cart while you’re out trading!” she grinned, her tail swishing behind her as two larger figures walked up behind her.

One was a mag’har orc, the vulpera family saw them often as they were right across the valley from the Orgrimmar Barracks where the majority of mag’har lived, refugees from a fallen world in an alternate timeline… though it had quite shocked Atu to learn that the story of their home was in fact quite true.

Another towered over the vulpera, a massive tauren woman with sandy brown fur decorated with white and yellow dyes to make colorful patterns depicting a stylized eagle, yellow flowers woven into her mane as well.

“Oh! Um, well…” started Risala, the vulpera padding up to Sekhi and leaning in, “Sekhi, these two are clearly very experienced mercenaries… we don’t have that much coin…” she whispered.

Sekhi just grinned back, “They don’t want any!” she giggled as both Atu and Risala looked at their daughter in shock. A mercenary who didn’t want money?! That was like a kobold who didn’t give a damn about candles!

The taureness spoke up, chuckling, “We haven’t been introduced… we’re Sekhi’s friends, teammates really.” she explained, “My name is Nitika Dawnhoof, seer of An’she, and this is Galdia Grimaxe of the Warsong Clan. We’re part of Savage United, the group Sekhi joined when you first arrived in Orgrimmar.” she nodded to the pair.

Galdia grinned, “Yeah, and things are kinda boring right now. Most of the bigshots in the Scourge are all the way dead or in hiding so the merc contracts are drying up… so Grimo decided to close up the shop for a bit and let us do what we want.” she nodded, then shrugged, “I mean, not that he could STOP us from doin’ what we wanted but, yanno…”

Atu looked up at the two huge women, “I-I see… um… but you really aren’t asking for pay?�� he asked, cocking his head in confusion.

Galdia nodded, “Eh, I mean, it buys the beer ‘n all… but I kinda owe Sekhi for a few things. Besides, an orc stands by their shaman.” she nodded firmly.

“… and Sekhi said you were going to Mulgore, my homeland. I’ve been wanting to visit anyways.” added Nitika, “So since we’re going the same way I don’t mind travelling with you.”

Risala nodded slowly, “W-well then, um, thank you! I’m sure two adventurers like you will be more than enou-…” she started, but Sekhi piped up.

“THREE adventurers Ma!” she yipped, grinning widely, “Imma member of Savage United too, remember? I’ve fought loads of nasty stuffs in th' Shadowlands!”

Atu paused at that, then cocked his head, “… true… you did tell us about all that.” he muttered. She had at length, whether they wanted her to or not, chattered on excitedly about the adventures she and her friends in both Savage United and Avalon had in the Shadowlands… but she hadn’t told them everything. The attack on Ardenweald, her stint in the Maw, and Dissonantia’s betrayal she had the foresight to leave out.

“Well… um… its very nice to meet you both.” chuckled Risala a bit awkwardly, “My name is Risala, and this is my mate Atu. We have three other kits besides Sekhi; Leza is her younger sister and Zato and Eeda are our youngest, twin kits boy and girl.” she said, “They’re in the cart now, but I’m sure you’ll get to know each other on the road. We should leave while it’s still early.” she nodded as Atu went to hitch up their alpaca to the cart.

Within the hour the vulpera wagon was trundling through the gates of Orgrimmar southward towards Razor Hill. On either side of it were Galdia and Nitika, the former astride her undead worg Nightpelt and the latter hovering a bit of the ground as she lounged on a handwoven flying carpet she had crafted and enchanted herself.

Several days later

The wagon had made camp for the night a way past the border between Durotar and the Barrens, on the Barrens side. They were in the shadow of one of the larger mountains there, the wagon parked close to the mountain wall and the alpaca hitched to a tree nearby to keep them from wandering off.

A large campfire was burning as Nitika sat with the vulpera, Sekhi playing her flute as her middle sibling Leza read a book she’d gotten off a sin’dorei trader by the firelight. The twins however were peppering the tauren with questions.

“Where’d ya get those marks on ya back?” yipped Zato, the vulpera boy clad in only a pair of shorts, leaving his sandy torso bare.

“What do those thingies on ya mean? Are they special or do they just look neat?” giggled Eeda, the vulpera child wagging excitedly. She had on shorts and a wrap like Sekhi’s, looking very much like her sister in miniature. The younger vulpera were about the size of large cats really. Nitika was massive to them.

“Are ya really able ta hear th' Sun’s voice?” chittered Zato, “Sekhi can hear all sorts of crazy stuffs! She says the elements play music for her all the time but I never hear it!”

Nitika laughed, “Alright ALRIGHT! One at a time…” she smiled a bit, bemused by the exciteable children. “Okay, so… I don’t really hear An’she speaking to me directly. Its more… a sort of feeling or intuition. I just sort of know what he wants sometimes.” she nodded, “And the warpaint patterns are supposed to resemble an eagle, which is An’she’s sacred animal.” she added, “As for these…” she felt over her back, then glanced back at the vulpera kits.

She remembered what they’d rescued them from in Vol’dun, and what the Faithless wanted to do, “… well… lets just say that sometimes mercenary work can be very dangerous and not all enemies leave normal scars.” she replied. She didn’t want to give the kids nightmares by recounting the story of her attack from the Sha in Pandaria.

“(Wuss.)” came a voice in her mind, the tauren rolling her eyes. “(What? Kids love ghost stories, you should just tell them. Its not like they won’t find out about me eventually…)” chuckled the voice of Nitika Darkhoof, her darker self.

Nitika sighed, then thought back, “(They’re really little Darkhoof. I don’t want to scare them. They’ve seen what the void can do back in Vol’dun. Lets just keep a lid on that power unless we need it.)” she replied in her mind.

“Nitika? Are you alright?” asked Risala, cocking her head at the tauren.

Nitika blinked, “Oh! Um, sorry, just hungry. I hope Galdia gets back from hunting soon.” she replied… and as if on cue they heard the loud stomping of the orc woman as she walked into the circle of firelight and slammed down a huge boar bigger than any of the vulpera present.

“How’s THAT for dinner, eh? Can’t get fresher pork than this!” she laughed, pulling a knife out of her belt. “Sekhi, come gimme a hand, let’s get this thing grillin’!”

The vulpera all sat up and eyed the boar hungrily. They were carnivores first and foremost, and fresh bacon sounded absolutely delightful to them… but while the vulpera and the mag’har weren’t native to Kalimdor, Nitika was, and she stood up and looked around.

“Galdia, where did you find that boar?” she asked.

Galdia looked up at her, “Ehhh… a ways south of here. I saw some others in the bushes even bigger than this one, but they took off once I got close. Why?” she asked.

“That’s… not a normal boar. That’s a battleboar, the kind the quillboar raise.” replied the tauren, peering out into the darkness… then she blinked, her eyes turning purple. She was standing fully upright, so none of the vulpera could see that, but Galdia raised her eyebrow at her.

“Hang on, that’s those pig-men you told me about…” she frowned, standing herself and looking back the way she came.

That was when Nightpelt began to growl, staring into the darkness.

Sekhi yipped and stuffed her flute away, taking out the harp she used as a spell focus to commune with fire as Nitika picked up her eagle-headed staff and stepped around the campfire they'd set up, standing with the other two members of Savage United. Galdia’s sword was already in her hands.

From behind them came a snuffling, snorting sound. It came from several directions, and they could hear hoof-like feet on the hard packed earth of the Barrens.

“Atu, Risala… get your family inside the wagon. Now.” warned Nitika, though her voice felt different. It was the same voice, but a lot… firmer. As if this one was less concerned with niceties.

As the vulpera parents stood, the quillboar charged!

Sekhi threw an object from her pack, a carved wooden vulpera statuette landing amid the advancing quillboars. Suddenly the ground under their feet turned soft and loamy, the pig men stumbling and slowing as their hooves couldn’t find traction on the mud-like dirt!

As they did Nitika lashed out not with sunlight, but with a blast of dark psychic energy, slamming into the mind of the lead boar! He went down drooling, his eyes rolling in their sockets as his thought patterns twisted into chaotic spirals.

“Looks like we get a LOT of bacon! LETS GO NIGHTPELT!” laughed Galdia as she and her worg charged as Sekhi readied her harp and strummed her fingers across the strings, the flames from the campfire suddenly shooting upwards and lighting up the area, revealing a good eight quillboar remaining upright.

A Thornweaver, a quillboar who practiced geomancy to grow and shape massive thorny vines to make up their Krauls, the lairs that quillboar lived in, squealed in defiance. “KILL THEM! THE BARRENS BELONGS TO THE QUILLBOAR!” it snorted in fury, thrusting it’s hands out as thorn-covered vines erupted from the ground and lashed forward.

Galdia’s sword was a blur of pandaren steel, the first vine landing in pieces as she shoulder-checked one of their warriors to the ground and slammed her sword home into his neck, another going down under Nightpelt as the worg’s fangs tore it’s windpipe open.

The other vine almost reached the cart, but Sekhi’s fingers worked along the strings of her harp and the flames from the campfire arced out and blazed bright enough to light the whole area… and a charred and hardened vine slammed down into the ground, crackling with fire.

Nitika surged forward, the woman’s body seeming to merge with the dark of the night as she almost glided out into the mass of quillboar, “Everyone! Cover your ears!” she shouted to her allies.

Sekhi and Galdia didn’t hesitate, they slammed their hands over their ears. They’d seen Nitika do this before.

The tauren took a deep breath, the shadows of the night wrapping around her form as she became a mass of writhing darkness, and then she screamed in Shath’yar… the language of the Void. Her voice echoed far louder than it should have, and both Sekhi and Galdia winced visibly as they heard her. Nitika's voice sounded wrong, like a vast swarm of insects all shouting and cursing at once in a language that reached past their minds and into their very instincts.

None of them understood what she said, not even the quillboar, but her words thundered into their ears. Nitika's void powered scream found every deep-seated fear, every anxiety, every nightmare they’d ever experienced, and slammed onto them with both fists.

A terrified squeal went up from the remaining quillboar, and most of them scattered, flailing and sobbing into the night. To them Nitika was no longer a tauren, their age-old enemy. She was a walking horror, a manifestation of the power of the dreaded Old Gods, and she would leave the ones that fled waking up in a cold sweat for the next month.

Two remained, the Thornweaver and one of their warriors. They had reacted fast enough when Nitika said to cover their ears and as the warrior prepared to retaliate in spite of what had happened a sudden sharp whistle came from behind the mass of darkness that was Nitika, and a bolt of lightning blew him off his feet with a loud cry of pain.

The other quillboar turned to face them, only for a tendril of darkness to lash around it’s throat and lift it off its hooves until it’s eyes were level with… well… lets call it Nitika’s head. Currently she didn’t look much like a tauren, more like a tauren-shaped cloud of shadows.

“Go, run away now. Tell your friends, any vulpera carts along the barrens roads are OFF LIMITS. If you attack one, we will find out and we will come back, and next time we will NOT show mercy.” whispered Nitika Darkhoof.

The quillboar snorted, but they were nothing if not stubborn, “Filthy tauren… your tricks won’t work on me! This land is quillboar land, any tresspassers will die!” it spat as the warrior struggled to his feet, electricity still sparking off his body.

Darkhoof glanced back at the caravan, then focused, and a miasma of shadow spread out behind her to obscure the view from the cart as she looked to the other quillboar.

She snapped her fingers, her eyes glowing a deep bright violet in the gloom.

The warrior went rigid, his eyes glowing the same, and he picked up his weapon. A large axe made from scrap metal pillaged from caravans heading to the Crossroads.

Without a word, he pressed it to his throat, then kept on pressing as blood ran down his neck and soaked his chest, then finally he fell forward onto the dirt. He didn’t even so much as whisper the entire time.

Nitika looked back to the Thornspeaker, “… well?” she hissed.

The quillboar magician whimpered, “… s-servant of the Old Ones…” it stammered. He knew the warrior well, he knew him as a strong and powerful fighter and to see him commit suicide like that without a single flicker of thought or emotion… well… the Thornspeaker was listening now.

“Just figured that one out huh?” she dropped him with a thud, then raised her hands, tendrils of darkness swirling around them, "GO! RUN AWAY LITTLE BOAR! RUN AWAY AND DO NOT COME BACK!” she commanded.

The Thornspeaker turned and fled wordlessly and she knew he wouldn’t stop until he reached their Kraul. With any luck he’d tell them exactly what she said. Vulpera carts were off limits, or else.

Slowly she descended to the ground and willed herself back into her normal form. The power of the void slowly bled off back into the realm it came from, merging with the darkness of the night until she stood there, same as always… “There, I hid the sight from the kids. They just saw darkness and nothing else. Happy?” she muttered.

“(No… but the quillboar won’t take a hint unless you throw it at them.)” grumbled Dawnhoof’s voice in her head.

“Deal with it Sunny.” she muttered, then turned and snapped her fingers. The shadowy cloud was blown away on an invisible breeze, the taureness striding forwards into the circle of firelight as Sekhi and Galdia watched her.

The orc was a bit disappointed she only got to take down one, but Sekhi was looking a bit nervously at Nitika. She knew that Darkhoof was less likely to hold back, but the song had sounded very… well… she was definitely glad it was Nitika and that she knew she’d come back from that.

Atu watched Nitika come back in and stared at her, “Er… are they gone?” he asked.

Nitika nodded, and when she sat down in the firelight her eyes were yellow once more. “Yes. Sorry about that Atu, but quillboar are very stubborn. If you don’t go all out they’ll keep coming.” she nodded, glancing towards the trio of children who had, of course, snuck out of the cart to watch as soon as they could.

However… Sekhi hadn’t really used her shamanism magic much before leaving Vol’dun. She’d guided Kiro and the others by listening to Azeroth’s Song, but otherwise she’d left the fighting to the other vulpera. So this was the first time her family had actually seen that…

“YA SHOT LIGHTNING!” chittered Zato excitedly, his tail a blur as he looked up at his big sister.

“How’d ya make th' fire do that?! Was it th' harp?!” asked Eeda, grinning widely at her.

Sekhi yipped a bit at their prodding, “U-uh, y-yeah, um… see fire always sounds like stuff like harps ‘n guitars ‘n stuffs to me, so if I’m using one it makes it easier to talk to it 'n get it to help me how I want ‘n…” she glanced between the twins. They’d never been this wound up about her shamanism before.

Galdia laughed, “That’s nothin’! You shoulda seen her in Ardenweald!” she grinned at the kids, flopping down next to the boar and slicing it open as if the battle hadn’t even happened. “The place fell under siege right, ‘n Sylvannas was there too, ‘n there were hundreds of these Mawsworn things. Monsters made of metal ‘n tortured souls ‘n shit… and we’re all fighting them… and then suddenly Sekhi just makes this gigantic sandstorm! Tore half of ‘em to bits and the others had to run away! Wrecked the entire battlefield! She drove off the whole army by herself!”

Atu and Risala stared at Sekhi, then at Galdia, then both of them looked to Nitika.

“She’s telling the truth. I was right next to Sekhi when she did that.” confirmed the taureness.

Five vulpera heads turned to Sekhi…

“YOU DID WHAT?!” yipped Risala in shock.

“A whole army?!” shouted her father, “Sekhi, you didn’t tell us THIS part!”

“Noooooo waaaaaaay!” squealed Eeda, “Show us!” she grinned eagerly.

“I wanna see it! I wanna see th' sandstorm!” cheered Zato.

Sekhi looked around, her ears flat against her head. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention and it was making her rather uncomfortable, “I-I… um… I can’t just do it whenever I wanna! Th' elements were doing it through me! I don’t even remember it!” she whined. She had left out the story of the attack on Ardenweald on purpose, she knew her parents would react this way.

“Are they really tellin’ the truth Sekhi?” asked Leza, the bookish vulpera a bit more knowledgeable than her siblings.

“Hey! You callin’ me a liar?!” snapped Galdia, “I saw the whole thing while I was beating a Mawsworn to death with another’s leg! Whole area is one big battlefield, then I hear Sekhi shout ‘go away’ or something, look up at the path where she’s standing, and BOOM! Huge cloud of desert sand, wind tearing the damn trees up, and this whole mess of vulpera ghosts raising fel all over the place!” she nodded firmly, slamming her skinning knife into the side of the boar with a loud wet sound. “I ain’t no damn liar!”

Leza eeped and ducked behind her mother as Nitika smacked Galdia’s shoulder in an annoyed way. “Galdia! She’s a kid!” she snapped.

Galdia grunted, “Well, I ain’t lyin’! Sekhi did that! Probably would’ve done it when Dissonantia tried to ki-MMPGH!” she began, her words cut off as a tauren hand slammed over her face and Nitika whispered into her ear.

“Galdia. Stop. NOW.” she hissed.

Atu and Risala were staring at the orc woman, their faces showing serious concern. They knew that Sekhi would wind up in harm’s way being a mercenary with Savage United, they didn’t know that she’d wind up in literal battlefields with a whole army to contend with.

Nitika chuckled nervously, “Er… s-so, Sekhi… wanna give Galdia a hand with the boar?” she asked.

“YES!” yelped Sekhi, the vulpera fleeing her siblings and diving behind Galdia, almost hiding behind the orc as the beast was slaughtered and cleaned for dinner.

Nitika glanced around, “Sooooo, um, kids… who wants to hear a story about where I wound up I the Shadowlands?” she asked, then before they could stop her she began to describe Bastion, Elysian Hold, and the work she did there with Dareley.

Thankfully, the twins were very easily distracted.

“They had wings? Like birds?” chittered Eeda curiously.

“Yep, huge feathery ones! In fact, I wound up with a pair too! But they disappeared when we came back to Azeroth. I think they only exist when I’m in the Shadowlands.” continued Nitika.

“'n they show up for everyone who dies?” asked her brother.

“Mmhm, to take them to the Shadowlands. In fact, they might even be gathering up those quillboar now.” she replied.

Nitika glanced over towards where they’d fought, and blinked as her eyes went purple, then smirked.

She wasn’t a necromancer like Mola’raum. She couldn’t really see the dead but she knew how to sense the anima of Bastion now and she was pretty sure she saw a familiar blue-skinned woman in golden armor waving to her before flying off, holding the hand of a rather annoyed looking quillboar.

Two weeks later, Camp Narache, Mulgore

The cart was parked near the camp and Atu was unloading the goods they had for trade, several curious tauren coming over. Not everyone could make the trek to Orgrimmar, but most had heard of these new allies that the leaders of the Horde had recruited.

A bit away from the cart however, Risala was having a very pointed discussion with Nitika, Sekhi, and Galdia now that they were off the road. Despite being smaller than two of them, the vulpera woman was asking some rather uncomfortable questions… and no attempts to deflect or defuse by Nitika were working.

The tauren woman sighed, “… and so Dissonantia betrayed and tried to kill us, and… well… she almost got Sekhi, but she was rescued by one of our new allies in the Alliance. He’s a pandaren named Zhan-min and he caught her after Dissonantia’s demon threw Sekhi off the cliff we were fighting on…” she said, the vulpera mother staring daggers at her.

“When Sekhi took off to join this ‘Savage United’ thing she’d heard about I thought she’d just be doing hunting, driving out bandits, and the like… but entire armies, trips into some sort of horrible ‘Maw’ place, and now you’re telling me a murderous warlock has her sights on my daughter?!” she hissed angrily.

Sekhi whined, looking rather awkward to say the least. “This is why I didn’t wanna tell ya Ma…” she chittered. “I just… yeah, things just kinda got nuts after we got to th' Shadowlands 'n all I could do was try to keep up with th' others.”

“Sekhi… I just don’t know if you should stay with this mercenary thing after this. I mean… yes you’re a shaman, but… you’re lucky to be alive after all that!” she shook her head, “I should go find this Grimo and tell him you’re quitting. You can just come back to the caravan with us.” she nodded.

Galdia snorted, “Yeah, bad idea. Dissonantia ain’t gonna give up on Sekhi just ‘cause she quits.” she retorted.

Nitika frowned at the orc’s bluntness, then said, “She could be gentler about it, but I’m afraid Galdia is right Risala. Dissonantia wants all of us out of the picture now because we know who and what she is… and that includes Sekhi. She’ll come after her no matter what, and its best if she stays with Savage United now. I mean…” she gestured to the cart, “Would you rather know Sekhi is with five experienced mercenaries when Dissonantia returns, or with two vulpera traders and their three kids?”

“Are you saying I can’t protect my daughter?” asked Risala, her hackles raising.

“(Right, lemme handle this Sunny.)” echoed a voice in Nitika’s head, then her eyes went purple, “Okay, yeah. I am saying that.” she said. “Dissonantia isn’t just some bandit Risala. She’s a powerful demon summoning warlock. It took all of Savage United AND Avalon to drive her off in Zereth Mortis and one of us wound up dead because of her. He was an Illidari, you know those elves with the horns and tattoos? The ones that tear apart the training dummies in the Valley of Strength with their bare hands? She got HIM.” she nodded, though she didn’t tell her that it was actually Mola’raum and Shalandrae who killed Merihim… though they did it because Dissonantia unleashed the demon inside him and allowed it to control him, so it was still her fault.

Galdia nodded, “Besides, we need her. She’s our shaman, a clan ain’t worth shit without a good shaman.” she grunted. “Look, you saw what we did to those quillboar on the path through the Barrens. You think we’d just let Dissonantia kill her?” she smirked, flexing her muscles.

Risala sighed, “When you put it like that… I…” she shook her head, “Just… Sekhi… I don’t want to think about something happening to you.” she chittered, looking at her. “We barely made it out of Vol’dun when the Faithless attacked, it’s a miracle the six of us survived…”

Sekhi whined, “Ma! Its okay… I’m not a kit anymore, ‘n all my friends are really strong.” she nodded, padding up to her and giving the older woman a hug, “I… I trust ‘em. Dissonantia is really really really scary, but I trust Nitika ‘n Galdia ‘n all th' other friends we got.”

Risala hesitated, then returned the hug, “I… a-alright… I guess they did make a good point. I’d rather know you’ve got someone who can fight at your side if that woman shows up… just… be careful, okay?” she asked.

Sekhi smiled back and nodded, then the two looked up as Atu called back, “Hey! Gettin’ a crowd! I could use a paw over here girls!” he said.

Sekhi nodded to her mom, then grinned a bit at Nitika and Galdia, “Um… so, yeah, gotta go do stuffs!” she yipped, then padded off to the cart as the villagers of Camp Narache discussed goods, haggled, offered trades of materials and other goods, and the like. Vulpera were caravanners at heart by and large, though there were exceptions.

After they closed up for the night Atu and Risala would have a long talk, and then Sekhi’s father would agree that she was likely safest with Savage Untied at least until Dissonantia’s defeat. Even then however, Sekhi was right.

She wasn’t a kit anymore. She was barely seventeen when she’d joined Savage United, but as crazy as it was to believe that was four years ago already. Sekhi was twenty-one summers old now, a woman grown (though for a given value of grown but, then, Vulpera never got very big.)

All kits had to leave eventually, but that didn’t mean their parents didn’t fear for them… but Risala had to admit that seeing how easily the three had dispatched the quillboars had helped sway her. If someone was out to get her daughter, all she could do was trust that Sekhi and her friends were a match for them. But, well, mothers never truly stop worrying, even then.

#warcraft #warcraft roleplay #adventuresinazeroth #fanfiction #threeyeartimegap

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ranminfan · 2 years

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I've been seeing a lotta tags like these from my short Orgill comic AND I'M CRYING...

Orgill doesn't condone violence guys!

Please behave

But fr these tags are really funny. It makes me so happy that ya'll like him so much!

I'm so caught up with school, but this is just a quick sketch cause I appreciate all of your comments! 😖

#pls don't would be his respond lol #also Orgill is a pacifist #His ma raised him a good orc #Orgill the orc #orc #original charcter #quick sketch #my art #orcs

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jengajives · 3 years

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Did a collection of defining moments for my Tolkien OCs a while ago and finally decided to post it. Got eight or nine different characters here depending on how you count.

When Agzil gasped, it brought nothing but a cold ash into his lungs. His limbs trembled. Even on all fours, they nearly didn’t have the strength to support him. An elbow buckled and he fell to a forearm instead, forehead hitting the dusty ground, flooding his eyes, nose, and mouth, with the same thick, grey soot that covered everything here. “You talk back again, maggot, and the Lieutenant won’t be so friendly!” The orc captain had a strong Lugburz accent. She was from here- the land of endless burning and choking and death. Made Agzil’s head spin. He obviously had done something wrong in his non-reaction, though, because the whip cracked across his back again with a blinding white-hot agony that dropped him flat to the earth. “Enough!” he heard Mirci crying, so distant he almost didn’t comprehend the words. “You’ve taught him your lesson, now leave him!” “You keep out of this, tinkerer!” Agzil breathed a lungful of soot so foul it made his lungs spasm. He coughed into the ground, and slowly raised himself to his forearms again. He could go no further. “You keep sticking out your neck for Gundabad trash, one day it’s going to get sliced!” the captain roared in the background. “Master may like your big metal beasts, but they done us no good! Done disrupted our ranks, made us look like fools- don’t you know we’re at war?!” When a voice spoke out from behind them all, somehow Agzil instantly knew it was not the voice of an orc. The Dark Master had Men in his armies, too, but as far as Agzil knew, Men didn’t speak the Black Tongue, and this newcomer used it with a natural and melodic lilt. Agzil wished he knew Black Speech. The captain barked something back in the same tongue, then Mirci spoke up in Common. “It wasn’t his fault, sir. It was my machine what went wild. Drive gears broke and the whole thing-“ She stopped abruptly. Agzil imagined this newcomer raising a hand in the way he’d never known a real general to do, and the fear that shot through him was icy and cold at the idea that this might be the Lieutenant of the Tower himself. Something sharp and cold tucked beneath his chin. Agzil felt a trickle of blood down his throat, and he worked to raise his head with the only strength he had left. His eyes met the empty, blank pits in a mask of iron, regarding him expressionless and still. He’d never seen Garavdúr before, but he knew what the War Wolf was meant to look like, and so of course he knew what he was faced with now. His entire body trembled, waiting, staring. Garavdúr did not speak for a long moment. Finally he lifted his sword away from Agzil’s throat and let his head fall, muttering softly as he did. “Pathetic creatures...” The heavy metal footfalls moved away. Agzil laid in the dust for a while before he raised his face again. Mirci’s head was there, coated now in black blood and ash, a few feet from where her body lay crumpled and lifeless. Agzil put his forehead in the dust again. The captain gave him another taste of lashing when he did not try to get up.

Thet wished her mother would loosen up on her hand so she could get closer to the extremely hot molten metal, but unfortunately, it seemed her parents were somewhat responsible. They were traders and always had been, and Thet had seen so many different types of places- dwarf-keeps and hobbit villages and little towns of Men- but never before had she seen metal being worked. It was stunning. “What is it going to be?” she asked eagerly, reaching out a hand as if she could touch the white-hot goop. The smith paused and flipped back the heavy iron mask to reveal fair golden hair and a beard done into neatly capped braids. Her face was smeared with soot. “Going to be a knife someday, little one,” she said in a kind and rumbling voice. “Maybe you’ll use it to cut up your dinner.” “Could you make it a necklace?” Thet asked instead, very eager. They had one necklace in the family; her father wore it at all times and she would recognize the dull reddish gold anywhere. There was a garnet set into the middle. She really liked the chain- how delicate and yet sturdy every individual link was. It was fascinating every time her father let her play with it. The smith looked at her and gave a friendly smile, then reached down with a pair of heavy clamps and broke one small section of the metal off. She twisted it into a crude spiral, bent a thin loop over the top, and then plunged it into her bucket of water. There was a hiss and a rush of steam went up from the boiling liquid. Quick as could be, the smith pulled the spiral out with another clamp and laid it on her table. She produced a length of thin leather from a pile nearby and slipped its end through the loop, and tied it off to create a loose circle. She held the trinket out in a gloved hand. “You be careful now. It’s hot.” Thet squirmed free of her mother’s grip and scurried forward on her crutch. She wrapped her hand in a length of her cloak so she could accept the gift. It was tarnished and none too shiny; just a simple lump of steel crudely wrought into a pendant of sorts, but to Thet’s young eyes it was the most astonishing gift she had ever received. Something made just for her, only for her. Never had she had anything like it. She gripped it tight, pulled it close and looked up eagerly at the tall smith turning back to her work. “I’m going to be just like you someday!” The smith smiled and rustled a hand through the young dwarf’s hair. “You’ll need a good bit of beard before that, little one. Take good care of your necklace.” And Thet never let that shoddy piece of metalwork leave her side.

There was no silence after battle. Corien could only hear the groans of the dying. Flames crackling cruelly in the grass. Huff of beasts and screams carried far away from the walls of the burning city. Orcs that were not quite dead gurgled when he vaulted past. Men that weren’t quite dead begged and choked and sang in shaking, weepy voices. All of it was blurry. Smeared. Nothing real, no sound registering to his battle-worn ears. The only things he heard were the cries of bowstrings, and a clash of steel on steel and wood on stone and metal creaking and screaming and tearing apart. “Halbarad!” he screamed into the settling night. It was lost amidst the identical calls coming up from other places on the field. Other brothers and sisters found hewn, children lifeless, friend and lover ripped apart. Everyone was out to collect their dead. The ribbon tied to the haft of his spear fluttered lightly in the breeze that swept up from the river. It had been blue this morning. It was splattered now with black and scarlet, bruised and sickly beyond repair. He threw the spear aside when he at last saw the gleam of silver against a cloak of bloodstained grey. It took both hands to roll his brother face-up. The silver star Halbarad had always worn on his cloak was shiny and clean, but it was about the only thing left recognizable. Corien’s fingers trembled uncontrollably as he pushed the earth brown hair out of his brother’s face. Blood caught on his fingers and colored his palm scarlet, so he left red smears on the eyelids when he closed those familiar ice-grey eyes. “Halbarad,” he said. His voice sounded so steady it would have surprised him, had he actually believed it was he himself speaking. There was no way it could be. No way he could form the words. “Don’t.. Don’t be dead. You can’t be dead, I- I need you. Please don’t be-“ His eyes travelled slowly to the gashes that tore his brother from jaw to belly and the words broke on a sob. He thought he might have screamed, but so many others were doing the same thing that he couldn’t pick his own voice out from the roar.

Mosco sat listening to the bees. His back rested against the thick grey bark, and his legs were up on a bough, and around his head bees danced from flower to flower in an endless choreographed routine. They were right smart, bees. His ma always said so. They talked back and forth, spoke in their own special language of waltz. Ma used to say that the Greenhands were honey farmers because they had dancing in their blood, and that they and the bees were one and the same. He’d fallen asleep tucked into the branches of his peach tree. The sun was growing low, and at this rate he’d miss his own nineteenth birthday party, but the woods of the Southfarthing were beautiful at sunset in the summer, and he thought he might go for a walk. The grass felt good on his bare feet, if a little cool. His hair hadn’t grown in all proper yet, so sometimes his toes got chilly and he had to embarrass himself wearing socks, but he just chalked that up to his being a “late bloomer,” as Ma put it. He was just out of season. He’d ripen up someday. The birches that made up the part of the forest closest to the farm soon gave way to wrinkly old pines with boughs hanging heavy and dark over their beds of needles. Mosco hummed a walking song, not at all caring for a track to follow, but wandering aimlessly and contemplating his own infinite nineteen-year-old wisdom. The smell of rot stopped him just before he put his foot into it. Beneath the overhanging crypt of the pines, a deer lay dead. Its skin was drawn thin over bones that poked halfway through, and underneath he could see a red-yellow ooze that leaked out into the forest floor. This, he guessed, was what smelled so foul and attracted the bugs. Beetles crawled in and out of the dead animal’s empty eye sockets and nostrils. Worms pitted the parts of its muscle still intact. Mosco saw eggs peppering the ragged hide like white trees in a minuscule forest. His family didn’t eat much meat. They never slaughtered it themselves if they did. He couldn’t think of a time he’d seen a real dead thing. When he got home, he declined the offer of birthday cake and went right to bed, and dreamt of squirming things that burrowed down to lay their eggs in pits beneath his flesh.

Cypress knelt next to the crime scene and tried very hard not to cry. Stuff like this didn’t happen in the Shire. It wasn’t meant to happen. A whole crowd of people looked at her with big, terrified eyes, expecting her to lead them. To tell them what to do in this moment because she was the mayor and she was meant to know. Blood had never been spilled like this. Woodhall’s history was a peaceful one and nothing like this had ever happened before. She looked at the assembled group. It was hard to seem like she wasn’t completely out of her depth, because her voice squeaked rather loudly. “We... We should bury them, yes?” At once the hobbits broke into cries and murmurs that all laid over each other into a horrific cacophony. “They took half the year’s stock!” “How did they get past the borders?” “Why didn’t we know they were coming?” “Are we going to get my honey back?” The last voice was that of Mosco Greenhand, who looked as devastated as the rest, but with an air of determination in his eyes. Cypress raised her hands to quiet the townspeople. “Look, I know this is a lot to process and we can’t understand it yet. But the first thing we ought to do is give these three brave souls who gave their lives for the good of Woodhall a proper burial, yes?” A general murmur of agreement. Cypress looked down at the fair faces she had known, the throats and bellies split by goblin blades, and it made her feel desperately ill. This horror could not be left unpunished.

Sometimes, when Astorrel went to sleep, she had a nightmare. It was always the same one, and it always came on when she decided to rest like other creatures did and actually close her eyes for hours. So, naturally, she avoided doing so. Rested on her feet and never let her guard down while she did it. She never had liked sleeping anyway. Never had any reason to do so for the better part of an age. Lina changed things, though. Lina liked it when Astorrel was there to share her night and her dawn, sleeping and waking, both together as equals. And of course, Astorrel liked to be there when Lina wanted her, and she liked to be close to her beloved, so of course whenever she could she shared Lina’s bed. Made the nightmares come back though. In the deepest hours of the night, when Lina was still and the moonlight slanted in through the window to paint her brown skin silver, Astorrel would lie stiff with her eyes open and nonseeing, and she’d tremble. She knew that in the dream- at least, in parts of it- she was her father. She carried Mirlach, but the blade was younger and the gem hadn’t yet fallen from its hilt. The whole sword always seemed darkened and scarlet-stained to her, and sometimes it dripped. She would hold the fire of the Silmaril and scream and scream as the agony of it withered her flesh away and the stench of rotting burn rose hotly to meet her nostrils, and she would see everything that Maedhros had done to hold the heirloom of his house in his hand, and how in the end, the reward of the quest became its doom. She would feel the irrepressible heat of smoldering, burning rock, and taste the earth as it pressed in, swallowed, took her and her cursed Silmaril into its throat and entombed them there forever. And the dream let her lie, suspended there in agony, the unseen gem scorching her hand to withered bone and the rock pressing in on her, for the entirety of the rest of the world. When she woke up with her hunting knife in her hand, dangerously close to Lina’s back, she decided abruptly she would not be doing this again. She left the cottage that morning before dawn. The next occasion she saw her Lina was on the day she died.

“You’re doing it again,” Léothain said, pulling Wulfrun’s focus away from the herders leading in a group of freshly adult horses to settle in the city. “You don’t really think she’s going to be there, right?” Wulfrun flushed and went back to sharpening her sword. Behind her, Léo plucked the last piece of laundry from the line and waltzed over with his basket against his hip. He stood next to Wulfrun, who sat silent on the stone step and watched young horses and rough herders pass the house by. They didn’t come into the city much; spent most of their time in the downs and the fields tending to their herds. Wulfrun had heard they were capital horsemen, and they guided the herds well enough through the winding lane of Edoras, riding without saddle on their sturdy, gleaming mounts. The horses they were leading in were meant to be ridden in battle. She could tell from the way they moved; so confident with strength and quiet grace, heads set proudly. She’d have one someday. Her fa made enough as a carpenter, but wasn’t much for travel, and they only had one horse for the three of them. The fat little thing was functional enough, but far from the mighty steed Wulfrun dreamed of. “You’re going to be really lucky if you see her again,” said Léo in an irritating sort of singsong voice. Wulfrun scowled at him. The sharpening stone swept over her worn blade again. Again. When most of the herd had passed, she finally found what she’d been seeking. At the rear of the group, riding a tall, shimmering palomino, came the girl. She looked just a little older than Wulfrun’s proud fifteen. Her face gleamed sunshine golden, and the dark hair that should have been dyed probably yellow was grown out and black down to the ears. She wore sturdy, battered clothes like the rest of the herders, but her eyes shone a brilliant black from her regal face. She saw Wulfrun looking and waved. Wulfrun wished she knew her name. She waved back.

Riston wasn’t his proper name. He didn’t know what it was. Could be Jett. Pierson. Randy. Likely he had a family name, too, though he had no guesses as to what it could be and all the Bree names he’d ever heard seemed bizarre and strangely food-centric. He didn’t want to have a real name. He just wanted to be Riston of the elves. Riston of the Havens. That was who he was. He sat on the big smooth rock on the west side of the harbor and plucked absently at his lute strings. Nothing sounded right. Nothing fit how it was supposed it. He was meant to leave in the morning. Head east and find who he actually was. He didn’t want to go. What’s a name matter? he thought as he crossed his legs and tried to let the waves paint a tempo into his mind. Anything he tried to make manifest withered away. I know who I am. This is my home. A discordant note. He tried to retune, very aggressively. Even if I find my family somehow, it’s not like my Westron is good enough to communicate with them. His fingers clenched. It’s not fair. They can’t just ask me to leave like I’m some guest who’s worn out his- One of lute strings snapped against his fingers and on a deep-gut impulse he slammed his fist into the instrument’s wooden body. A crunch, and he’d broken his most prized possession. Riston sat for a moment, slowing his breathing, taking stock of the fist-shaped hole splintering his delicate elf-made lute, the most beautiful thing he’d ever owned. Then he put his face in his hands and started to cry.

#jenga makes junk #fic #tolkien oc #agzil #garavdur #thet #corien #halbarad #mosco #cypress #astorrel #wulfrun #riston #tw gore #tw death #tw rot #i have so many ocs it is not fair

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

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In the Discord, we started talking about a D&D AU where the Stans are half-orc (Filbrick) and half-elf (Ma Pines). And. Well. Here’s the Official Starting point of the AU. Enjoy.

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Stan squinted at the bright red berries.

Those look kinda like cherries. Should be fine. He grabbed one and went to pop it into his mouth. Before the fruit could pass his lips, an arrow flew through the air, hitting the berry and knocking it out of his fingers. Stan stumbled back in shock and ultimately lost his balance, landing on the ground with a muffled thump.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said lazily. “Those are poisonous.” Stan whipped his head around in the direction the voice had come from. He couldn’t see anyone. Then, with a faint rustle of leaves, a woman dropped to the ground.

“Who the hell are you?” Stan rumbled fiercely, baring his fangs. The woman crossed her arms.

“I’ll answer that if you answer my question,” she replied. “What exactly is an orc doing in the woods here?”

“I’m not an orc,” Stan muttered instinctively. The woman raised an eyebrow. “I’m…half-orc.”

“Hmm.” The woman tucked a stray strand of hair behind one pointed ear.

Wait. Pointed? Stan stared at the woman. She stepped out of the shadows, and as she did so, Stan could see green freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks, as well as a bark-like texture to her copper skin.

“You’re a wood elf,” he said dumbly, remembering the term his mom had told him ages ago. The wood elf rolled her eyes.

“Geez, you’re quite observant.”

“Since I’ve never met a wood elf before, I think it was pretty impressive of me to recognize you,” Stan retorted in Elvish. The wood elf’s mouth dropped open. “Yeah.”

“Okay, seriously, what are ya doin’ here?” the wood elf snapped, slipping into Elvish. The way she spoke was different than Stan was familiar with, like she had an accent of some sort. “You’re a half-orc, but you speak like an elf prince. Who are you?”

“…My name’s Stan.” The wood elf raised an eyebrow. “My mom’s an elf. She taught me Elvish.”

“Your-” The wood elf shook her head in shock. “That’s- I’ve never heard of that happening before.” She glanced away, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Well, you introduced yourself, so I might as well tell ya my name. I’m Angie. Angie McGucket.”

“That’s not an elf name.”

“No, it’s my nickname. And my last name, that’s ‘cause my great-great-great-great grandma married a human and took his last name.” Angie shrugged. “So, what are you doin’ wanderin’ ‘round here?”

“None of your business,” Stan said shortly, getting to his feet and roughly brushing himself off.

“I’m one of the protectors of this here forest, so yes, it is my business,” Angie retorted. “Explain yourself. Why is a half-orc half-elf in the woods tryin’ to eat poisonous berries and almost walking into bear traps?”

“I didn’t almost-” Stan scoffed. Angie nodded at the ground about a foot to the left of Stan. Stan looked down. An almost completely concealed bear trap was barely visible through a layer of leaves. Stan blanched and took a step back. “Okay, maybe I did almost walk into a bear trap. But I’m not gonna tell you why I’m here.”

“Fine,” Angie sighed. “Are you alone?”

“…Yes.”

“In that case, follow me.” Angie began to walk away.

“Follow- why?” he asked. Angie came to a stop.

“Night’s ‘bout to fall,” she replied. She eyed Stan. “I grew up in these woods, so I know ‘em intimately. But even I wouldn’t be caught out ‘n about in ‘em at night. That’s a good way to get yourself eaten.”

“I can handle myself,” Stan blustered. Angie chuckled.

“Sure you can.” She continued to walk away. After a moment, Stan sighed and followed her.

Maybe I can talk my way into a free dinner. And if she’s trying to rob me or whatever, she’s the tiniest elf ever. I can take her on.

-----

Stan stood awkwardly, feeling the tension in the room rise as the siblings bickered. Angie had led him to a hidden ranger outpost that she shared with her brother, Lute, only for Lute to immediately start shouting.

“Excuse me fer bein’ upset my baby sister brought home an orc!” Lute said. Angie crossed her arms.

“Baby? I’m only ten years younger ‘n you! And he’s not an orc, he’s half-orc.”

“Humans ain’t that great, neither!”

“I’m not part human,” Stan put in. Lute whipped his head around to stare at him, dark eyes narrowed. “I’m part elf.” Lute’s eyes narrowed further.

“Yer half-orc ‘n half-elf?” he asked. Stan nodded. Lute’s lip curled in disgust. “So yer a half-breed.”

“Lutesian!” Angie gasped.

“Banjoleanna,” Lute snapped in return. Stan winced slightly at the unwieldy elven names.

I’m not really one to talk, though. Thank the gods Angie didn’t ask me what Stan was short for.

“It’s pretty weird of you to call me a half-breed when you’re one,” Stan said, interjecting before the brother and sister could resume their argument.

“Excuse me?” Lute snarled.

“There’s no way you’re full wood elf. Not with eyes like that.” In the better lighting of the shack, Stan could now see that both Angie and Lute had eyes that looked like liquid silver.

Just like Mom’s.

“And I know that wood elves are sometimes blonde, but your hair color, Angie, looks more high elf to me. If I had to guess, I’d say one of your parents is a wood elf and the other is a high elf, probably sun elf.” Stan shrugged. “That’s what my mom is.”

“So what?” Lute asked. “That don’t make us half-breeds.”

“To humans, probably not. But to other elves, especially other sun elves?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “Everyone in this room is a half-breed, depending on who you talk to.” Lute scowled. “But if I’m not welcome here, I’ll leave. I’ve taken care of myself this long, I can survive a night in the woods.” Angie glared at Lute, who finally backed down.

“…Fine. You can stay the night. But I want yer half-orc self out of my house in the mornin’,” Lute said. He drew a dagger from his belt and pointed it at Stan. “And keep that orcish blood under control. No ravishin’ my sister. Understand?”

“Gods, Lute!” Angie snapped. She rubbed her face. “Go get some more kindling ‘fore it gets too dark.”

“But-”

“I’ll be fine.”

“…Okay.” Shooting one last glare at Stan, Lute stalked out of the shack. Once the door had closed behind him, Angie let out a loud groan and collapsed into a chair.

“I apologize fer that. He had a bad experience with a group of orcs and half-orcs a while back. I didn’t think he’d hold it against ya, but I guess I was wrong.” Angie nodded at the chair across from her at the dining table. “Go ahead and take a seat.”

Stan did as he was told. He looked Angie up and down, getting a better look at her, only to realize she was doing the same thing. Her gaze lingered on his orcish features: his square jaw, hairy arms, and broad shoulders. He smirked in response.

“I guess the elf ladies go nuts for shoulder hair. That’s the thing my mom liked best about my pops,” he said smarmily. Angie rolled her eyes.

“I’m just gettin’ a good look at ya. I’m a ranger, I’m s’pposed to be good at identification. I want to be able to recognize another half-elf half-orc if I ever come across one again.”

“Not very likely. My brothers and I are the only I’ve ever heard of.”

“You have brothers?”

“…Yeah.”

“Where are they?”

“Dunno. I left home ages ago. For all I know, Ford’s a warlock and Shermie’s found some human who likes pointed ears and fangs.”

“Hmm.” Angie leaned back in her chair. “Why did ya leave home?”

“Orcish tradition. When an orc male comes of age, we’re sent away to learn how to stand on our own. Either we come back to our clan or start our own,” Stan rattled off. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to explain why he was so far from where he grew up.

“Yer mom didn’t protest against this ‘tradition’?” Angie asked.

“She trusted Pops to handle the orc stuff.”

And that’s all I’m gonna say about me. Time to change topics.

“You from around here?” Stan asked. Angie cocked her head, a small smile playing on her lips. She’d caught that he was done with talking about himself.

“Yep,” she said. “Lute ‘n I decided to stay in the area we grew up in. But we’ve been wonderin’ ‘bout movin’ somewhere our skills might be more useful. After all, we got some specific trainin’ in specific bein’s that ain’t too common ‘round here.”

“Good thing you didn’t leave before stopping me from eating poisonous berries,” Stan said.

“Is that the closest thing I’ll get to a ‘thank you’?”

“Pretty much.”

“Heh.” Angie grinned. “I like yer honesty.” The door opened.

“Did he-” Lute started.

“No, he didn’t ‘ravish’ me,” Angie sighed.

“Good.” Lute marched over to the fireplace and dropped some firewood by it. He paused. “Say, I never got yer name.”

“Stan.”

“Stan?” Lute snorted. “What’s it short for?”

“Like I’d tell you,” Stan said. He grinned at Lute. “Lutesian.”

#I wrote this instead of the prompts in my inbox lol rip #also no title bc I couldn't think of a clever one #DnD AU #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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coffee-or-murder · 3 years

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Harvest Day

Told from the perspective of my Drakewarden/smith half elf boy as he meets one Annabeth “Lemon” Bakhuizen. He has a crush, his family embaresses him, but he’s too lovestruck to really notice. Also his drake thinks he’s silly and just wants apples.

The door to his room was thrown open, the handle striking the wall with a crack, startling him and his drake awake with displeased grunts. Aodhán hissed at the short thin figure before pushing open the window and slipping out into the dark with a grumble. He turned bleary eyes to see his father striding into the room encased in a massive green sweater, a long thick yellow scarf wrapped around his neck that barely covered his wide grin and made his long eleven ears stick out horribly, and a pile of knitwear bundled in his arms.

“Da’ what-”

“Get up Tadhgán it’s Harvest Day! We have so much to do and only a day to enjoy it!” he exclaimed as he walked to the bed and dropped the pile onto his lap. “Put those on and come out for breakfast. Aodhán’s scarf is the orange and yellow one. Make sure he wears it,” he ordered before turning and practically skipping out of his room.

“It’s not even light yet!” he yelled after him, only getting a near maniacal laugh in response. His father loved Harvest Day, clearly, and always went a little crazy every year. The Bakhuizen Estate orchards grew nearly every fruit you could bake into something, but their apple orchard was by far the largest. They had nearly every color of apple you could imagine. After they’d done their main harvest, they always opened the gates to the townspeople so they could come and pick their fill. The morning was spent picking apples and catching up with neighbors, a picnic in the orchard for lunch, more picking, and then the town held their yearly Harvest Fair. There would be dancing and music and more food than they could ever eat. Strangely enough there were never any leftovers, no one could tell you who finished off the food. Tadhgán sighed, shrugging into the dark rusty red sweater, and hanging the brown and orange scarf around his neck. The sweater was a little tight on his broad shoulders, but not enough to be a problem. Da’s finally getting the hang of knitting these things. Simple breaches and works boots were hunted down easily enough, and he ran his fingers through his blond hair to tame it. He gathered up the long scarf for his drake before walking into the kitchen. Da’ was stirring something in the pot, oatmeal most likely, and singing one of his many poems barely in tune. His poor mother was still half asleep, head resting heavily on her hand as she glared down at her eggs and sausage. Tea was cooling in a mug next to the plate, but she was clearly not awake enough to notice it yet.

“Morning Ma’,” he said quietly, chuckling as she grunted in response. As he walked past he reached out to ruffle Ma’s short dark hair, laughing as she swatted at his arm and jumped just out of reach. He’d pay for that later he knew, but it was always fun to tease her a bit when she was like this. Tadhgán opened the side door to the forge and smiled. The main forge was burning brightly, casting shadows all around the large open room and bathing Aodhán’s dark red scales in the orange light as he stared into the molten core of the forge.

“Look. They are nearly waking,” the drake rumbled as he reached a claw down and shifted one of the eggs closer to the burning core.

“I expect they’ll hatch by the end of the week. Won’t be happy about winter being right around the corner though,” he chuckled. His throat always felt a little strange when he spoke Draconic, like he’d gargled salt water wrong. Aodhán purred, or as close as a drake could get to purring, before he turned to look at him. Gold eyes quickly settled on the scarf in his arms and he sighed.

“Again?”

“Every year. You know how much Da’ loves Harvest Day,” Tadhgán sighed. The drake hissed in annoyance, but let him wind the scarf around his neck and secure it with a messy knot. He patted his friend’s side before turning back to the kitchen and joining his family at the table. They ate in silence, his mother clearly still unhappy about being woken up so early, before gathering their baskets and slings to leave. Tadhgán quickly saddled up Aodhán, the two large baskets gently tapping the drake’s sides as he walked beside him. His parents were just ahead, Da’ linking their arms together and kissing his Ma’ hand. She grunted in response, and Da’ took the hint to stay quiet until she actually woke up. Da’ was such an early riser, and so happy about it, but it always took Ma’ awhile to get going. The walk to the Bakhuizen estate wasn’t too terribly far since they were already on the outskirts of town proper, and the fall air was crisp and cool. There were a few other people walking up the road to the estate, and they waved to each other. Thankfully everyone seemed to have come to the silent agreement that it was far too early to talk, so they all enjoyed the walk to the gates. They loomed ahead, easily twice the height of Aodhán, made entirely of bright white stone and gray metal. The gates had been pushed open, and some of the family were standing just inside to greet them. They had fresh scones and who knows how many kettles full of coffee or tea or ciders set out on a massive long table. A tiefling boy and firbolg were helping a half orc woman and halfling man sort out little cloths for people to wrap their scones in. The halfling made sure everyone walking in was at least offered a drink and a scone, but waved at Ma’ instead. Tadhgán waved for her, shaking his head at the offered food as he followed his father to the orchards.

The Bakhuizen family weren’t bad people, just a little strange. Their matriarch, a very small nearly ancient halfling named Rosalind, had a strange habit of adopting seemingly random children and raising them in the estate. Some of her children or grandchildren had done the same, to the point where there were so many different races of people living behind the sprawling estate walls it was practically it’s own city. They had quite a few bakeries in different towns, though the one in their town drew the most tourist attention out of them all. They had more money then they knew what to do with thanks to their various business ventures, but with Rosalind still making all of the company's business decisions and refusing to simply give her family money without working for it, they mostly had their heads on right. Mostly. Of course some of the family was entitled and rude, but you have those people in nearly every family. The big scandal was that after Rosalind’s first husband, a local turnip farmer, passed away she took a tall elegant looking elf as her husband. They seemed very happy together though, and he would often carry her around the orchard during the harvest and feed her apples as they quietly chatted. So a little batty, but all around good people.

“I’m awake now,” his Ma’ grumbled, waving back at him before squinting up at the sunrise and rubbing her eyes. Da’ gleefully leaned up to kiss her cheek, and squeezed their linked arms before he chattered away about all of his plans for the day. His mother’s dark brown eyes simply gazed down at her exuberant husband and she smiled softly. They were a bit of an odd couple too, a human drakewarden smith and an elf writer turned househusband, but certainly not the strangest here.

“Will I get baked apples again?” Aodhán asked as he kept pace.

“I think your chances are pretty high. I can always throw an apple down to you and you can roast it yourself,” he answered. His drake rumbled, clearly pleased at the promise of the sweet treat and trotted a bit faster. The group quickly approached neat rows of immaculate apple trees, all heavy with fruit and stretching on for nearly as far as they could see. The other groups quickly broke off, heading in the direction of their favorite apples and following the helpful wooden signs staked into the ground. His family kept walking, occasionally coming upon other townsfolk or Bakhuizen family members having their own fun picking or playing chase together. A halfling woman wearing the Bakhuizen crest embroidered into her shawl was glaring angrily up into a tree, hands on her hips and a scowl marrying what could have been a pretty face.

“You get down from there right now! This is not what young ladies do!” the halfling woman screeched up into the massive apple tree. Tadhgán looked up and felt the breath leap out of his lungs. A halfling girl was in the boughs of the tree, dark chestnut hair haloed in the sunrise. Large dark green eyes sparkled with mischief as she plucked another bright yellow apple and slipped it into the nearly full sling across her chest. She grinned, full lips curling up as she stared defiantly down at the woman.

“Clearly it is, since I am in fact doing it and still a young lady,” the girl said. The wind caught her long thick braid, the yellow ribbon holding the strands together fluttering like a banner. Gods she was beautiful. His heart was pounding, and Aodhán rumbled, questioning his rider’s sudden nerves.

“Listen to your mother and get down here before you fall!” the woman snapped. She stomped her foot for emphasis, but the girl looked entirely unimpressed. Her gaze suddenly met his and what little air he managed to get back was gone again as her grin widened.

“You there! Will you help a lady down?” she called out to him. His tongue suddenly felt too heavy to move and he nodded instead, taking a step towards her.

“Should we find you a ladder?” Da’ called up. She started to walk on a thick branch towards Tadhgán and shook her head. Her pants were nearly skin tight, showing off the curve of her thigh even as the large white shirt she wore covered the rest of her body. The sun still shone through the white fabric, showing just a hint of the gentle dip of her waist. She had no shoes. How had she climbed up with no shoes? Or ladder?

“You look pretty strong. Think you could catch me?” she asked instead, leaning over slightly to look at him with her head cocked. Her mother screeched something, he wasn’t really listening to be honest, and he nodded again. She couldn’t have been more than three feet tall after all, and he was nearly twice that. He’d worked in the forge and trained as a drakewarden since he could walk, so he certainly had the muscle mass to carry something as small as her. Still, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when she simply fell off the branch towards him. He lurched forwards, catching her in his arms and holding her close for a moment. Apples. She smelled like apples and lemons and something baking. “Excellent job sir,” she said, patting his forearm with her tiny hand. She was so tiny, and shockingly warm against the chill.

“No problem,” he mumbled, leaning over to put her on the ground. His hands flexed at his sides as she dusted her shirt off and beamed up at him.

“Thank you for catching me. My name is Annabeth Bakhouzin, but you are very much welcome to call me Lemon,” she said with a small curtsy. She used the billowing fabric of her tunic as a skirt when she curtsied. He gulped, trying to swallow around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. Aodhán cackled behind him, nudging his back and grunting for him to get it together.

“Ah I’m Tadhgán McGowan at your service Miss. Lemon, the smith’s son,” he stuttered. She cocked her head to the side -gods her eyes were such a dark green he could barely make out her iris- and scrunched up her nose a bit.

“I’m sorry your accent is a little hard for me. Your name is Tadhgán correct? Like tea-gon?” she asked, confused. He gulped, and nodded. Clearly he was not up to speaking. She smiled again, before turning around to face her mother, her braid swinging at the motion. “There. Mr. Tadhgán helped me out of the tree, and now I am solidly on the ground again. If you’ll excuse me, I have a new recipe to test with these lovely apples,” she said before looking back at him and winking. “If you come by the party tonight I’ll be sure to save you a couple turnovers. My new recipe is going to win the baking contest for sure.”

“He’ll be there lass, don’t worry. He’s an excellent dancer too,” Ma’ called out, smirking at her son as Da’ held back his laughter behind his hand. Lemon beamed at his Ma’ and nodded, waving at them as she ran off, closely followed by her still screeching mother. He watched her run away, the yellow ribbon streaming behind her, and he could barely catch his breath.

“I remember the first time I met your mother,” Da’ sighed dreamily from beside Ma’. “Harvest Day is the best day of the year. It’s so romantic. Why when I met your mother I-.”

“Don’t tease the boy. He’s embarrassed enough,” Ma’ chuckled before leading Da’ on deeper into the orchard. Aodhán rumbled behind him, pushing his head into his back to get him moving again. Maybe Harvest Day was worth getting up before the light for, especially if he got to see Miss. Lemon again. Maybe later they’d need an extra hand around the estate?

#dnd lemon #dnd tadhgan #dnd story

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purplefairywriter · 4 years

Text

Shadow in Flames pt. 1

Summary: Rogue!Suga/Yoongi x herbalist Y/N. When your life gets saved by a rogue, your life is changed in ways you never would have expected… This mostly sets things up so don’t be disappointed. 2.5 k words BTS fantasy / Dungeons & Dragons AU. Also please forgive my crappy thumbnail I just really kind of wanted to get this out in time for a certain birthday or something, idk~ _____________________________________________________ Yoongi stood in the alleyway. He watched some pickpockets go by, just enjoying the sparse quietness that the night brought him. The hood over his head and his quiet nature afforded him the joy of being left alone. No one bothered mysterious men as long as they stayed quiet. It was a lesson he had learned a while ago. As well as a lesson that he kept well. No one needed to notice Yoongi. He was of no importance. Some part of him liked that, liked being of so little import that people could choose to ignore him. He sat in that alleyway nearly every night, just to watch people, enjoy the moonlight, and stay nice and warm under his hooded cloak during the winter without having to stay cooped up in a seedy inn room. The sound of a knife unsheathing some distance away made him leap unto his feet. He looked over to see a grown man aiming the knife at a cowering child. “I’ll pay you back, I promise!” The child cried. “You lousy brat, you haven’t been able to steal anything for two weeks now! What did I ever hire you for?” The man asked, his words slurring. Yoongi walked over to the pair and tapped the man on the shoulder. The man turned around with a growl. “What are you doing talking to my son like that?” Yoongi asked his hand on his knife’s handle. The man looked at the kid then back at Yoongi. “Then why are you lettin’ him roam the streets and work for me? Some moron idiot father you are.” The boy looked up at Yoongi, visibly frightened. Yoongi had never seen the boy before in his life. But Yoongi knew what it was like to deal with angry, cutthroat criminal scum like the man standing in front of him as a child. “Leave the boy alone. How much does he owe you?” Yoongi asked. He kept his hand on his knife, ready to draw in case the criminal lashed out. “50 gold.” The man grumbled. Yoongi pulled out his coin purse and nearly handed it to the man. “It’s between me and the brat. I don’t want your blood money.” The man turned back to the boy, his anger growing. “I could’ve made twice as much profit this week if I didn’t have to feed you. I should’ve let you rot!” The man raised one hand, tightly gripping a knife over his head as the child screamed. Yoongi managed to pull out his knife and stabbed the man in the shoulder, which reduced the man to a crumpled heap of pain on the alleyway path. Yoongi knew the blow would not kill the man unless he decided to lie there and bleed to death. The worst it would do was make it hard for the man to ever stab someone else ever again. Yoongi grabbed the child’s arm and dragged him out of the alleyway and towards safety. The rogue only stopped running when he knew they were a good distance away. He stopped for a moment to let the boy catch his breath before questioning him. “What are you doing on the street dealing with a man like that?” Yoongi asked. The boy stared at Yoongi’s face as if he could see the expression on the older man’s face under the darkness of his hood. Yoongi sighed. He looked up and down the desolate alleyway before leaning down to the boy’s eye level. “Look, I know you’re afraid. I’ve had to deal with hundreds of men just like that one in my lifetime. Never turns out pleasant, I can tell you that.” “You could be just as bad as he is!” The boy stated with a passion that made Yoongi chuckle. “Yes, I could. But I’m not.” “Yeah? Prove it.” Yoongi laughed at the boy’s bravado. “If I take my hood off, will you trust me then?” The boy frowned a bit at the thought. Slowly but surely the boy nodded. The rogue knelt down to the boy’s eye level as the boy froze. Yoongi sighed as he let down the hood of his cloak. It was an open secret there was a half-elf wandering the streets. In a mostly human town, anything remote Elvish got looked down at. The human population was divided between people who were strongly anti-elf and people who couldn’t care less. Yoongi’s slightly pointed ears seemed to have no effect on the boy. The rogue’s smile and warm brown eyes did. The boy smiled. “What are you?” The boy asked. Yoongi laughed. Of course, the boy had never seen an elf before, left alone an elf mongrel like him. “Well… I’m a half-elf, half-human.” “Oh.” The boy pouted a bit. “You sure you aren’t full elf? Mom says that elves are just fairy tale creatures who save people from monsters.” Yoongi wrinkled his nose at hearing half of his heritage was being relegated to ‘creature’. The boy gave an awkward laugh. “I was only sayin’ that because you saved me from Jennings, that’s all.” The boy said. Yoongi patted the boy on the shoulder before the sound of distant footsteps made him put his hood back up. “Look, kid, keep this whole thing between us, yes? I think the last thing we both need is the town guard knocking on our doors, asking us what happened tonight.” Yoongi said as he stretched. “Okay. Do I have to keep quiet about the fact I met an elf or can I tell my friends? Scott just last week was talking about he saw this great big el-” “Especially the elf part, kid. You should keep elves as fairy tale creatures. Okay?” The boy crossed his arms as if that would change Yoongi’s mind. Yoongi stared at the boy until the boy sighed in defeat and uncrossed his arms. “Now let me walk you home,” Yoongi said. Yoongi stood back up. He began to walk towards the alleyway’s entrance and out onto the street. The boy stood, pouting. “What’s wrong?” “… I’m afraid to go home.” The boy said. “I’m sure your parents won’t be mad.” Yoongi did not know this to be true but still said it nonetheless. “I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed that you’re home safe and sound.” “My mom is sick. My dad left us when I was little. The doctor refuses to see her unless we pay him and we didn’t have any money so I came out here and I was going to-” The boy began. His words became more choked up as he began to cry. Yoongi frowned as he felt a wave of empathy wash over him. The boy began to sniffle as a tear ran down his face. Yoongi stared at the child, unsure of what to do or say to make him feel less melancholy. An ingenious idea hit Yoongi as he broke out in a grin. “Maybe, if you promise me not to go out on the streets again looking for money and the trouble that comes with money… I’ll see if I can’t help your mother out, huh?” The boy burst into a huge smile that spanned nearly ear to ear. “How… why would you do that?” “No one should go sick, starving or living on the street because of who they are or where they come from. As long as you promise not to go out on the streets again.” Yoongi said. “I promise!” The boy exclaimed. “Anything to make my mom better!” Yoongi smiled softly at the boy’s words. He knew the mother would probably not agree to his help but it was worth a shot. “Come on, let’s get you home,” Yoongi said as he and the boy finally exited out of the alleyway and onto the street. _____________________________________________________ Yoongi and the boy approached the house. The boy eagerly knocked on the door before Yoongi even got the chance to think of doing so. The door immediately opened to a woman, pale and gaunt, who looked like an older but more feminine version of the boy. She gasped in delight at the sight of her son before leaning down and hugging him. “I’ve been looking for you these past few days!” She said, half chiding and half thankful. When she pulled away from the hug, she cupped her son’s face. “Don’t you dare ever do that again, do you understand me?” “Yes, ma.” The boy said. “I was only trying to get enough money so you could see the doctor!” “I told you, we can’t afford a doctor. Don’t worry, it’s just a cold, it’ll go away soon.” She said. Yoongi noticed she was trying to sound optimistic but the look in her eyes told him she knew otherwise. “But he can!” The boy looked over at Yoongi. The woman finally looked up at Yoongi and slowly stood up. She eyed him with heavy suspicion. A look that Yoongi knew too well. “Who are you?” She asked, her tone tinted with fear. “He saved me from having to steal for the rest of my life, ma.” The boy said. “If you refuse his help, momma, I’ll go right back out on the street.” Yoongi and the mother’s jaw dropped at the boy’s threat. They looked at each other before looking back at the boy. “No, you won’t do such a thing, do you understand?” The mother said. “You will stay right here or… or… I’ll ship you off to go live with orcs!” “Awesome!” The boy said, oblivious to the fact that what his mother had proposed was a punishment. “No, not awesome! Just… go to bed, we’ll have a talk about how you shouldn’t threaten your own mother or run away from home later.” The mother’s stern tone came out in a way that made the boy sigh and walk towards the other part of the house. The mother sighed as he went out of earshot. She coughed before speaking again. “I’m so sorry for your trouble, sir.” “It was no trouble, madam,” Yoongi said, straining to come off as polite as he could. “I thank you for bringing my son back but I cannot accept your charity.” “Please.” Yoongi’s desperate plea, while only one word, made her close her eyes.“I can’t take your money. If I do, you’ll…” She said. Yoongi felt his heart drop into his stomach with the knowledge he knew what she was going to say. “I won’t. I know I’m nothing but a rogue but… I had a mother too. I lost her when I was young. Some sickness, probably very much like the one you have, madam.” Yoongi said with a frown. The memory was still crisp in his mind despite it happening over a century ago. “I… I’m sorry to hear that.” The mother said before she coughed again. She turned her head away from the door frame as she did so. “I won’t take advantage of you or your son. I only want to help. I only want to keep another person from ending up living on the streets like me.” Yoongi pleaded. The woman sighed. “Okay. I’ll trust you. But I swear if you as much as look at my son or I the wrong way, I’ll-” “Have me skinned alive and made into armor,” Yoongi said in a joking manner that managed to make the woman chuckle. “The only problem is none of the doctors will come out here because it’s too…” The mother said, letting her words drift off as she looked down the rundown street and buildings. “I know a doctor. Very good quality doctor, very discreet. Very good bedside manner, hard to find in most doctors nowadays. They know herbs and the fancy college stuff. I’ve known them for years and I will vouch for them with my own life if needed. That is if you don’t mind me procuring a doctor for you as well as paying for it, madam.” Yoongi said. Replace years with maybe half a century or more, and replace ‘a doctor’ with ‘a family of doctors’, then I’m not lying too badly, am I? He thought with a chuckle. “That’ll do.” The woman said with a shrug. “I’ve never seen a doctor before in my life, so I have no idea what to look for in one. I’ll be here all day tomorrow but I work as a fruit vendor on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.” “I’ll remember that, madam. If you don’t mind, I’ll come back to notify you of when the appointment is. I’ll try to get one for tomorrow.” Yoongi said. The woman nodded with a faint smile. They both said goodnight to each other before he turned away as if to leave. Then he felt the tug of guilt at his heartstrings. He turned back around to face her. “Here.” He said, pulling out a small bag of about twenty gold coins. “Food for you and the boy, madam.” The woman stood there with her arms crossed staunchly for a moment. Yoongi still handed her the bag. After a moment she took the bag gently. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” The woman said with tears in her eyes. “Let me help you. That’s the only repayment I need.” Yoongi said. “If you ever need me, go to the tavern down the road and ask for sugar. They’ll let me know.” The woman thanked him again before she closed the door. Yoongi walked down the street and into his inn to try and get some rest. _____________________________________________________ Yoongi waited until the next morning to go see his trusted doctor. He had known this doctor’s family for ages, ever since he was nothing but a scrawny teenager. Now he was well over a hundred years old but still looked like he was about twenty-five years old. He forgot how his relationship with the family began but knew it was started cordially enough. As he walked towards the doctor’s place of work which doubled as their home, Yoongi sighed. He walked up to the door and cracked his knuckles before knocking. “I’ll be right there!” A voice cried. Yoongi smiled at the sound of that voice. Although it was faint, it sounded melodic. Eventually, he heard a set of footsteps rushing towards the door. When the door was opened, Yoongi stood there staring at the person who had answered the door. Everything about her seemed to carry this air of kindness, even he could not properly explain it. The way she smiled at him as she opened the door, the color of her hair, the fact she looked up at him despite him wearing a hood… It was enough to drive him mad. And her eyes! Her eyes were somehow unlike anything he had ever seen before, so radiant that he thought they were blessed by the sun itself. “Hi. I’m Y/N! What’s your name?” She asked, her enthusiastic tone failing to force him into speaking. “I… um…” Yoongi stammered. “I’m here to see the doctor?” “She’s in the back. I’ll be right back!” Y/N said before closing the door. To be continued~

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meteor752 · 4 years

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Bain of Dale

I haven’t written so much about Bain, since if you woud ask me he’s the least interesting out of the Bardlings. But, I still have some shit about him, so let’s go.

Bain is probably the most pure and good hearted person out out of the Bardlings, which doesn’t really say a lot.

While Tilda was most like their ma, and Sigrid not really being like either of their parents, Bain takes a lot of traits after his da. He’s kind, genuine, and always wants to make sure that the people around him are safe.

Despite having a good heart, Bain is not the brightest person alive and doesn’t really know what’s going on half the time. He’s a bit of a Himbo.

When Bain was young, he mostly followed his sister around everywhere, begging her to do something with him. Whenever she would reply that he could just do something himself, he just got quiet for a second before continuing to ask her to play.

Bain is very much a social butterfly and an extrovert, as he needs people around him to basically function.

Bain loved to follow his da when he went out on the waters for whatever reason, just to get some fresh air and get a better view of the mountains. Bain has always loved water in general, and despite the lake being freezing for the most part, he always liked swimming around in it.

Bain didn’t fully understand what happened when his ma died, just that she was suddenly not there anymore and that his da and sister was suddenly very sad. It took him a couple of months to understand that his ma wasn’t coming back, and he was very sad when it was explained to him.

Bain always loved Tilda because of her energy that Sigrid just didn’t have. Despite the fact that Tilda was younger, Bain sort of turned into the younger sibling around her, begging her to let him come with her to cause mischief. She said no, most of the time, which bummed him out quite a bit.

Sometimes Bain would get sad over the fact that their ma was gone, as you get I mean come on, and whenever that happened he would curl up in Sigrid’s bed, and she would wrap her arms around him like their ma used to do, and softly sing one of their ma’s songs to him.

Bain was probably the only one who lost something at the Battle of the five armies in their family.

His da met his future husband, Tilda met the elves and Legolas and just became really fricking hyped about that, and Sigrid got to see the dwarves she’s loved to hear about as a kid, and to see Erebor being reclaimed.

Bain lost his eyes.

It was a goblin that caused it, by fully attacking him in his face and scraping one of his eyes out fully, and just damaging the other. Sigrid was the one who kicked the goblin off of him, and Tilda the one who killed it with a sword she’d found, but the damage was already done.

Bain was blind.

After the battle was over and his da found his kids again, and Tilda couldn’t stop babbling about how cool it all had been while Sigrid was checking Bard’s injuries, that Bain just sat in the corner with a fabric wrapped around his eyes to cover up the gruesome sight for everyone around him.

Sigrid has tried to fix it at the moment, and later when things had calmed down they had gone to an eleven healer, but there was nothing to be done.

Bain was assigned to a She-elf named Vivian to help him learn to operate without the use of his eyes, as she herself was blind.

She first taught him how to do stuff like walk around without bumping into things, and how to properly use a cane to feel around, and then how to read Braille (That they have in this universe yes absolutely), and finally how to fight.

Bain has always been a fighter, even in his childhood. But when he was a kid it was more stuff like bullies, or sibling quarrels, and when he got older and went into war it was orcs and raiders and stuff like that.

So when Vivian and her husband Kamarind started to teach him how to detect a sword coming towards you through sound and air deflection, and how to detect an arrow being shot at you, he was in heaven.

It was around the time Sigrid was coronated queen, that he became captain of the guards of Dale, that he fully got to properly show others that despite missing a sense, he wasn’t useless.

Despite being a soldier, and having a bit of a broken body, he was still his cheerful self, with a smile on his face and a warmth in his heart.

Vivian and Kamarind continued to train him anytime they could, and it took Bain five years to notice that the two married elves were flirting at him.

He went to Tilda asking for advise, as she was also is Mirkwood, and she just smacked his arm and said that they usually took other people to bed, just like their ma and da had done.

Bain frowned slightly, feeling a bit disappointed because he really liked both of them, and Tilda quickly hurried to say that they sometimes started relationships with people they liked, and he might be one of them.

So he started flirting back, and sure enough, soon they asked him to come with them on couply things, and he quickly fell in love with the two elves.

Kamarind was a fisherman, so he wasn’t always there, but he and Vivian, who’s an artist, still had a lot of fun together.

It did not take too long for Vivian to end up pregnant with her and Bain’s first child, and her actual fourth child.

The half elf was raised with a lot of love around him from all three of his parents, and both Vivian and Bain often felt sad that they couldn’t see their son, Bain the most.

When Sigrid told him one day to get his men, they’re going to Gondor to fight a war with their Step-brother, Bain was pretty confused but was also like “Okay I guess this is happening now”.

Kamarind and Vivian had both been with him in Dale when they were called, so they of course followed as well while leaving their child behind, because he was like, eight, so that would have just been a bad idea to bring him.

(Canon!Bain’s son died at this battle, so yeah. He’s left behind)

They all three survived, by the way.

Since Sigrid never had kids, it was actually Bain’s son Brand who became the next king of Dale, and in his eyes it was always quite fitting that a half elf would be the ruler of the city, as the elves had always had great contact with it.

Bain died at 233, unmarried because elven law and stuff, but holding both his lovers hands as he passed

•

Other stuff about Bain!

Would he be modern, he would be Polyamorous Pansexual.

The two elves that he got together with are characters I made a while back, and just decided to have him fell in love with.

Kamarind has dark skin with blonde hair, often in a ponytail, and works by the docks so he is always greasy.

Vivian is a painter with pale skin and dark hair, and used to have light brown eyes before she lost them along with her brother in the first war of the ring.

The reason Tilda knew about their love life is because I created them as her elven friends, along with four others we will talk about in her post.

This became less and less about Bain as it went on.

Honestly he’s kinda meh for me

AU Masterpost

#lotr #the hobbit #lotr au #the hobbit au #Bain son of bard #sigrid daughter of bard #tilda daughter of bard #bard the bowman #eleonore the bard #Brand of dale #Barduil #Original elf characters #I only gave Bain two lovers because he needed a son #and just giving him a wife would be boring #we gotta bring in the queerness

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auckie · 4 years

Note

what's your goblin name what's your goblin story what's his favourite things where did he get born.

I got a ton but My main gob is a 120 frost dk!! Old model best shows off how his long nose pokes out of the shadow of his stupid dk hood.

Nose is very important!

His name is sheckie— short for sheckolas of course. But he doesn’t know that cause he’s a dk and all he remembers of his stupid name is his goofy nickname!

I’m constantly changing his hair color and skin color but I KNOW when he was alive he had very dark green, basically black hair and was a nice healthy green yknow?

He’s a pretty chill guy, very much has the NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY brand of undead going on. He can’t remember a lot of his life and it doesn’t bother him too much, but there’s a few bits that he does and he’s too freaked out by then to explore much. He’s a real good cook and very tidy and pretty quiet but not shy! Pretty impulsive and reckless but still, overall calm as a cucumber! He just DOES yknow? Very Id driven. Is probably gay. When he was alive he had a temper and a slight napoleonic complex but being a frozen corpse changes a person!

[[MORE]]

Very hasty bit of lore:

He was raised by orcs outside of orgrimmar (I have this whole orc fam planned out but have yet to make any of them in wow and that’s a whole nother can o worms!). His biological ma was a bit of an unstable floozy, jumping from pirate crew to twilight cult based off whichever offered her a bed and meal for a bit. She was pretty young when she had him, during her stint with some pirates, and so she abandoned him at a Murloc village. Harram*, an orc, happened to find him a while collecting herbs and took pity on the stupid little feral goblin fetus. Harram was a super chill dad but his second wife, Ara, was a liiiiittle bit too into the warrior orc supremacist mindset. She was pretty rough on sheckie growing up, always pushing him to go harder and be more orc like. He really wanted to impress her so he tried super hard to be a warrior, but his stupid goblin body just wasn’t really a match for giant orcs. Luckily his many siblings were cool and liked him, but like yknow it still fucked with his head just a bit. And his arms, so even in undeath, he’s got arthritis and his wrists and hand joints bother him a lot. Not entirely sure how he became a death knight especially since he’s a gob, but who cares! He doesn’t struggle with it too much but if he takes too much of a break from fighting and shit he kinda goes into a fugue and comes out of it halfway through eating some rando innocent creature, which wouldn’t be so bad but he’s done it to like. Little rural farmer families and so that’s fucked up. He hates when girls die and loves animals but they’re scared of him. He’s super good with kids and wasn’t too big into the horde but had a huge falling out with an alliance friend, and is pissed about it so he’s currently rebelling by sitting very angrily in orgrimmar pubs post sylvanas— where he runs into his family! Very odd and confusing reunion bc they assumed he was dead and are mad at him for not finding them sooner.

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thornbolts · 4 years

Text

My Two Lives Ch. 8 - Our New Home

Previous Chapters:

[Chapter 1: Westfallen Blues]

[Chapter 2: From Student to Hunter]

[Chapter 3: The Doe and the Buck]

[Chapter 4: The Day the Wardrums Came]

[Chapter 5: Hard Times in a Harder City]

[Chapter 6: The Fall of Stormwind]

[Chapter 7: My First Friend]

We ran aground the shores of Hillsbrad Foothills after ten days at sea. Solid ground couldn't feel any better. No more trying to move with the waves, and I could finally have as much room as I needed to stretch my legs.

We camped out at the coast where we arrived. Commander Lothar wanted all the refugees here before we made any more moves. We named this area off the coast of southern Hillsbrad “Refugee's Landing.”

Lordaeronian emissaries came to meet us and introduce us to the land. We stayed here for another day to let all the other refugees catch up.

Once everyone was here, we were offered Lordaeronian citizenship if we wanted it. No one declined. We were weary, and we couldn't wait to get back on our own two feet. For all we knew, we could never return to Stormwind.

We had the option of settling down anywhere in the land and allowed to integrate into Lordaeronian society. The choice was bittersweet. We'd have to finally part ways with the friends I'd made on the mass exodus to Lordaeron.

Archie, the mage apprentice that allowed us to have clean water over the entire journey, headed north, going off on his own on foot to try his hand at learning in Dalaran off Lordamere Lake near Capital City. He was confident he could find someone willing to teach him and find a place in the Kirin Tor. He was an honest kid, and I knew he'd become a fine spellslinger someday.

"Oi! Arch!" I yelled out as he fit his arms into his pack's straps.

"What's up?" He looked over his shoulder, smiling one last smile.

"Take a bit 'a provisions with ya before ya go." I tossed him some of my jerky bag, Thornbolt secret seasoning and all. "Should last until ya get ta Dalaran."

He caught it, peeling the neck of the bag open and giving the meat inside a good sniff. Archie shot his head back from it, taking a few quick gasping breaths and letting out a sneeze. "How much pepper you put in this stuff?"

"A shitton. Salt ta preserve. Pepper ta taste." I laughed, smacking my palm on his shoulder. "Ya be the best damn mage ya can be, ya hear?"

Archie nodded affirmatively, sliding the jerky bag into the pocket in his coat and giving it a good pat. "I will, Rem. You be safe too now, yeah?"

I grinned in response. Of course I would.

My pop waved him off. "Ya see a bear, ya run like hell, Arch!"

As Archie disappeared into the forest, my pop faced back toward Benton. "S'pose yer headin' up ta Capital City like most 'a the other folks?"

Benton raised a fist to his beard, thinking. He turned to Melody. "What do you think, Dee? Where should we go?"

Melody thought for a moment, her eyes looking to mine before she smiled. "Well. Capital City might be a bit crowded with all the refugees coming in. I think we should head northeast toward the other cities."

"Other cities?" I asked.

"Yeah. There's a couple in the Eastweald," Melody explained. "Andorhal and Stratholme. They're probably not as crowded as Capital City, and there's probably plenty of work to be done. Though if you want more rural stuff, I'd go with Andorhal; got enough land for farmers to stake their claim there and maybe could use more hunters around."

Grandpa Julian grinned wide behind his silver beard, nudging my pop in the side with his elbow. "Huntin' work," grandpa highlighted. "Sounds like a natural place fer us, don't y'all think?"

"Prolly could use a preacher too," my ma added. "How's faith here?"

"Holy Light, just like anywhere else there aren't orcs," Melody answered. "I think we'll all fit right in."

"'We?'" Benton grinned down toward his daughter.

"Yeah. 'We.'" Melody turned to me, a smile brightening up her expression. "These lands are as strange to us as they are to you. How bout me and dad come with you all? You know, help each other get to know Lordaeron?"

I felt a wave of relief at that. I wouldn't have to say goodbye to my first friend. I grinned the widest smile I could that day, and I couldn't help but wrap my good arm around Melody as tight as I could. "Dee and her pop can come with us, right?" I looked toward the rest of my family.

Grandma Ash's expression softened. "I don't see any reason why not."

"Ya do a real clean shave, Ben," my father joked. "We'd be glad ta have ya aboard."

Grandpa Julian extended his hand out toward Benton. Benton did the same, clasping his hand around my grandpa's wrist with a good shake.

"Glad ta have ya," my grandpa patted him on the shoulder.

My ma set her hands on both Melody's and my own shoulder. "There's only one thing ya both gotta do fer one another."

"What's that?" we both asked in unison.

"Look out fer eachother." My ma gently squeezed both of our shoulders as Bessy barked happily, pawing at Melody's leg.

And so began our journey toward Andorhal. My family was in our natural habitat, out here trekking in the wilds. We taught Dee and her dad a few things about living outdoors: how to butcher a kill, how to make a campfire, how to pitch a tent and a few other neat tricks. Things were finally starting to look up as we began to feel our way through the Lordaeronian wilderness, journeying through the Eastweald until we finally arrived in Andorhal.

And Andorhal would be our home for the years to come. By this point, my family owned a large farm just outside the city. My pop stopped hunting after his age began to catch up to him in his sixties. Started tobacco farming. While it was still backbreaking work, he always thought it was better since he didn’t have to venture out too far from the house.

My ma integrated into the Lordaeronian clergy as a priestess, often leading sermons at the church. She became a bonafide pillar of the community. Hell, most folks would recognize her just walking down the street. She was everyone’s friend, and later I tried to follow a bit in her footsteps. Wondered if I could be a priest with a gun.

Benton started a new barbershop in Andorhal. He never wanted for customers. Whenever I needed life advice or just someone to listen to me when I was troubled, I'd visit Uncle Ben and get my hair cut. He was the kindest and most grounded man I knew despite losing his wife in Stormwind. I don't know how he did it.

Melody, I taught her how to shoot a gun and fire arrows from a bow. Often, we would run free in the Eastweald wilderness and bring back game for both of my families to eat. Hell, I think at one point, I actually began to like her more than a friend, but I never did admit it. She later became a teacher in the school. Taught Geography and History of all things.

I made a living continuing on the family hunting business. I was the best shot in Andorhal, and I’d often bring back pelts and meat to sell at the markets. In my later years, I’d work with the city guard and have an occasional job as a bounty hunter, much to my family’s distress. With my gun, work was never scarce.

Grandpa Julian was a wilderness tracker right up until the day he passed quietly at home from age. Grandma Ash, bless her heart, followed a couple years later. They were married happily for around fifty-seven years. I bawled like a baby both times. By then, Stormwind was rebuilt.

We sailed back to Stormwind and journeyed to Westfall, where we scattered their ashes into the coast. It was our ancestral home, after all. Me and ma put up a grave just under a tree overlooking the water so my grandparents could always have a peaceful view of the waves washing in and out.

Went back up to Andorhal. By this point, we've lived in Lordaeron for about fifteen years. And I thought life would just be normal from then on out.

But unfortunately, that ain't how things turned out.

We all know there ain’t a happy ending for Lordaeron.

#remington thornbolt #ic #rp #world of warcraft #world of warcraft writing #my two lives #my writing #wra #wyrmrest accord #wra rp

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pixieungerstories · 5 years

Text

Housemates - 19

Vinny really was planning on going for a run, but it turns out cumming so hard that your legs shake leaves you with muscle cramps afterwards. Not in the same places that Derick left her aching though. She snorted into Tristan’s pillow imagining what kind of work out you would need or could get fucking. The phrase ‘three more reps on the minotaur, then back to the werewolf’ floated through her mind.

As it was she was sitting gingerly on a chair (not Kevin, she checked) drinking coffee and eating toast as Derick was out for his run by himself.

Tristan had fixed her breakfast, then kissed her head on his way out to work. Now it was just her and Kogan who was reading the paper with his glasses perched on the end of his nose.

He sighed and put down the paper. As he took off his reading glasses, Kogan looked at her, “Are you alright?”

“Sure?”

“Did Derick pressure you into sleeping with Tristan?”

Vinny blinked, “Not exactly.”

Kogan narrowed his eyes and looked at her. Vinny looked away. Kogan made the strangest little orc noise that there really wasn’t a human equivalent for, it startled Vinny enough that she looked back at him. “Look. I’m not bothered by who you choose to fuck, as long as it is your choice. Hell, you’ve never been to an orc wedding, but remember that bar I took you to? It had a pool table. Orcs have group marriages and the wedding is basically we put down a drop cloth and watch while everyone welcomes the new member to the family. It’s a pool table because we break less substantial furniture. I’m not trying to shame you, but I will kick the pup’s head in if this wasn’t your choice.”

Vinny nearly choked on her toast at that last bit. “I was raised catholic; I needed a push to get over the monogamy thing. But it was my choice and I knew I could say no.”

Kogan nodded. “Good.” He put his glasses back on and opened the paper with a snap. “It’s OK if you need to take some time to process all of that. Just because it happened once doesn’t mean you have to make it a regular thing. Not unless you want to.”

Vinny finished her breakfast and headed to the kitchen. As soon as her back was turned, Kevin called out, “Kogan wants his name on your roster but is too afraid to ask.”

Vinny froze then peeked over her shoulder. Kogan had his eyes fixed firmly on his paper but was blushing. “Is that true?”

“I’m too old for you.”

“That isn’t a no,” Kevin pointed out.

Vinny could only reply, “Huh.”

“You’re going to be late for class,” Kogan said without looking at her.

“Shit!” Vinny hobbled off.

----

That night, Vinny made a platter of Smitten Kitchen’s ratatouille and quinoa. It smelled amazing and everyone dived right in, chatting about how their days went. Vinny just watched them all in awe. It really was like one big family.

She didn’t know how to ask what she really needed to know. She had be practicing in her head all afternoon, but she still wasn’t sure how to even ask. So she sat there picking at her food, lost in thought.

“Vinny?” Thea asked. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you’ve moved that piece of pepper four times, but you aren’t actually eating anything.”

That made people stop and look up at her.

“I have no idea how to even bring this up and I’m terribly afraid that mentioning it will be another case of me being hugely misinformed except even worse than the jello incident.” Vinny was prattling a bit but working up to it.

Derick, cleared his throat and gave her an out, “This is about us all being a pack marriage, isn’t it?”

Vinny swallowed and nodded, “Is that really true?”

They were all quiet for a moment.

Then Kevin announced, “Yup!” and dived into dinner.

Vinny blinked. “Yup? Just like that? I hate to say this, but could someone who isn’t Kevin comment?”

Thea went next, “Which answer will make you not quit? I don’t want you to leave, Vinny.”

“I’m not planning on quitting,” she replied.

“Are you sure?” Thea pressed. “If we are, your mom would want you to quit.”

Vinny licked her lips, “Ma only gets any say in her own sex life. Not any of yours, or mine.”

That made Kevin stop eating. Vinny hadn’t figured out how to reliably tell if he was looking at her or not, but everyone else was, with a faint deer in the headlights expression, now that she thought about it. She coughed, “Is that a yes then?”

There was a round of everyone avoiding her gaze.

Kogan was the one who finally owned up, “It isn’t really a formal thing. We just sort of help out when needed. So, in the spring, when-”

“Don’t,” Thea whimpered.

Kogan stopped for a moment then said, “We’ve got nothing to be ashamed of son.”

Bazur shrugged, “I’m ace, but I’m not averse to giving someone a hand, if they need one.”

Vinny looked at Dren, who shrugged, “I like warm wet spaces, except I taste with my whole body. Kevin is adaptable. The others don’t really do it for me, but I can make warm wet spaces for them if they need it.”

“So… all of you are having sex with each other on a ‘as needed’ basis?”

Slow nodding. Kogan helped himself to some quinoa, “What brings this up?”

Vinny took some then passed the casserole to the left. “I kind of took advantage of Tristan last night.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“And it’s nice having someone to cuddle with.” Vinny continued, ignoring him.

Kevin snickered, “I’ll cuddle any time you want.”

“Can you say that without sounding sinister?” Dren asked.

Derick frowned, “I don’t think he can, actually, but I think it’s fairly safe to say we all consider you part of the family.”

Vinny rolled her eyes, she wasn’t really worried about him. There were three of the guys who barely interacted with her. She was worried this would be a problem for them and they wouldn’t say until it got really bad. “Well, I know you do, but there are practical considerations. Like how is Bazur going to feel if he’s not the only one who comes to movie night not wearing pants?”

“Honestly, it would take some of the pressure off,” Bazur admitted. “I’m not good at remembering. I have had to put a sticky note up on the doors in my bedroom and office.”

Vinny nodded, “Dren, you have enough stress in your life, I don’t want to add to it. Thea - I make you uncomfortable. I’m glad you don’t want me to quit but I don’t want you to be any more weirded out by me than you already are.”

Dren shrugged as he was slowly dissolving and absorbing a piece of eggplant. “You won’t stress me out. And anytime you need someone to keep you warm, my bathtub is your bathtub.”

Vinny blinked as she tried to imagine how that would work. She would need to wax everywhere for that. But Dren was warm and silky and gave great massages.

Derick’s nose twitched and suddenly he was grinning. Vinny blushed and looked at her plate, then she caught herself and forced herself to met Dren’s gaze. He was still very calm and off hand. Nothing ever seemed to phase him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dren nodded. “Please do. I’m not big enough or scary enough to walk you home after class, but I would be more than happy to wait up for you.”

Thea just nodded, wide eyed and silent.

It was Kogan who said, “Anything you need, you can come to me,” but there was a chorus of agreement from around the table.

Vinny had no idea what to say to that, so she just nodded, “Thank you.” After a bite of zucchini she managed, “I promise not to be upset if any of you ask me, if you are also OK if I say no sometimes.” That was met with a thoughtful silence, so she continued, “I don’t want to be rude but I do want to get this all out on the table. Bazur isn’t paying me to fuck you-”

“I certainly am not!” the gargoyle sounded somewhat offended.

“But I… don’t mind a friends with benefits arrangement as long everyone is polite about it and everyone is ok with saying no, if they want. On an as needed basis.”

Tristan cleared his throat, “While we are getting it all out there, we have a no pictures policy, for obvious reasons.”

Vinny blinked, “I hadn’t really considered that.”

Tristan gave her a look, “You should. No revenge porn.” Everyone was nodded.

“That sounds reasonable. Anything else?”

“Kevin can make his dick look like a rubber duck!” Thea blurted out before covering his mouth with both hands.

Kevin snorted, “Yeah, and if you rub it, it will get hard and then squirt you.”

Vinny looked at Kogan, “Really?”

Kogan shrugged, “Sadly, yes, so if you see a rubber duck sitting on a chair or table, you may want to think twice before picking it up.”

“Your dick is a duck,” she said flatly.

“Or a tentacle, or the usual boring shape. Lady’s choice,” he grinned showing off those needle like teeth mimics are famous for.

“Huh.”

-----

Kogan picked Vinny up after late class. The first thing he said once they were out of ear shot of her friends was, “Now, really, how do you feel about all of this?”

“Kogan, I’m here on a scholarship. I don’t have time for a boyfriend who is going to get pissy because he wants to take me to a frat party and I have a paper due on Monday. I really don’t have time for the emotional turmoil of finding out he went without me and had a threesome with Trish and Olivia.”

“Christ. Someone did that to you?”

“Yeah, second year. The thing is, I still like sex. I just need it to be simple.”

Kogan shook his head, “What you need is someone who will be respectful.” He thought for a few moments, then added, “Or someones. That I can promise we have covered.”

“Except for Kevin.”

“Kevin is an asshole, but I’ve never seen him be malicious just mischievous. He was really angry with himself after the jello thing. He wanted to have some power in the relationship. Something to tease you about. He wasn’t really thinking. He’s been better since then, hasn’t he?”

Vinny had to think about that. “He may have downgraded from asshole to jerk. Sometimes I can see that he’s trying. Other times he’s…” she struggled for a moment and settled on “dismissive. Like what I think doesn’t really matter.”

Kogan nodded, “You have power over him. What he eats. What shell care he gets. If he gets to go out. That pisses him off. He likes you anyway and that pisses him off even more. I’m afraid Mr Moodswing is just going to be like that for a while.”

By then they had crossed campus and Vinny laughed as she opened the door.

There was a new front entry way table.

It had a rubber ducky sitting on it.

Vinny ignored it as she walked up the stairs. As she made it to the first landing, she heard Kogan say, “Son, that woman is carrying a good twenty pounds of textbooks. You are very lucky she didn’t just drop them on your duck.”

As she looked over her shoulder, she saw the duck melt and be absorbed into the table. She chuckled all the way to her room.

#werewolf #orc #Minotaur #mimic #gargoyle #slime #drider #terato #exophilia

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morphituu · 5 years

Text

Bell Peppers Ch. 15

“Calamity”

Archive of Our Own: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15

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He winced, not nearly as bad as before when his arms rose, yet the iron in his weak hand trembled nonetheless. Her own flew up to steady the weights, but he shook his head, pulling in deep breaths.

“This is too soon,”

He shook his head again, slowly straightening his arms. A long groan, and Callie supported his elbows.

“Nick,”

“S’fine,” he forced, but nevertheless dropped his arms, his head falling back as he exhaled forcefully.

“You’re supposed to do your breathing exercises,” she implored, struggling herself to carry the weights away. He snorted, lacing his fingers atop his head.

“I got all squishy, I need to bulk back up,” he groused, but now she snorted.

“These ain’t no marshmallows,” she smiled, patting his bicep. “You still have 2 weeks to ‘bulk up’, so be kind to your body, please?”

He shrugged, extending his neck to kiss her sweetly when she leaned against him with a hold on his hips.

“Okay c’mon,” she kissed him once more, stepping back. “Arms up,”

With a stubborn groan, he flexed his biceps, bringing his elbows in and out in sync with deep breaths as she did.

“Hurt as much?”

“Nah, haven’t needed the ice packs in a couple days too,” he grunted, lifting his hands and curling over sideways. It was true- the past week had been kinder to him. Sleeping was easier, even sitting, and gradually he’d found himself needing his pain meds less and less.

“Can you snarl again?” she giggled, baring her blunt teeth in exaggerated fashion so he would, but his split lip didn’t sting any longer. The stitches had done their job, and now pink scars across his lips, high cheek and brow were his daily reminder.

Nick’s arms hung off her shoulders when she stepped towards him, applying the slightest amount of pressure against his ribs on either side while he took deep breaths, in and out.

“Y’know if you don’t feel up to going back-”

“We still have 2 weeks,” he kindly interrupted, earning a stubborn purse of her lips when she looked up. “I’ll be good to go by then,”

“Until some jackass swings or rushes you,”

“I’ll swing back,”

“What if you can’t?”

He stopped, his wrists crossing behind her so she’d move that much closer. She wasn’t moving, but it wouldn’t be long until she was chewing her lip or bouncing her heel, and that’s when the anxiety would flow instead of trickle.

“Take a breath,” he told her, placing a lingering kiss on her temple when she looked away, respiring. “I won’t go right back into the heavy stuff, baby,” he kissed her cheek. “Keep breathing,”

Callie nodded, blinking past the constricting of her chest she could feel behind her eyes, and at last melted against him. Nick embraced her, swaying gently, hoping to eradicate this attack before it even peaked.

“It’s been happening more lately,” he said against her hair, but she only groaned.

“I don’t want anything else to happen to you,”

“Nothing will,” he consoled, leaning back to study her eyes. Worried, but otherwise clear; she avoided this one. He kissed her, squeezing her shoulders beneath his hold when she whimpered. “Nothing else is gonna happen,” he added.

Yet there was still dissatisfaction on her face before she said, “What about him?”

“Fogteeth-”

“You need to tell the police, Nick,”

Before he could turn from her, she held tight, leaning over when he looked away. “You have to at least give someone a heads up that their own officer is a suspect!”

“And who do you think they’d believe?”

“You don’t know until you try,”

But when he opened his mouth to protest, she held a finger against her own lips, silencing him. “And I know- I remember: I don’t know the full scope of your past experience as an Orc,” she started, and he calmed, resting his hands on his narrow hips. “But this is an exception, Nick. You have to at least give Ward notice. He might know how to handle something like this,”

“Please?” she asked again, leaning far back to keep eye contact when he craned to pull her into a hug again.

“Only to Ward for now,” he agreed, chuffing happily when she curled her arms around his neck. He could hear the faintest of a ‘thank fucking god’ muffled between her shoulder and his jaw, stirring a throaty chuckle from him. “Have so little faith in me?”

“If you weren’t so stubborn,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

Above all, he agreed for her peace of mind; whatever it took to keep her from falling into that dark pit that had recently become her common hangout. As the days drew nearer to his return to work, the worse it became, always telling him how deeply she worried for him.

A piercing ring of his phone from inside caused a low rumble in his chest, and he reluctantly detached from her with a final kiss upon her cheek. He wobbled away, waving his hand back when she insisted he grab the cane and found his phone vibrating against the tables surface.

“Uh oh,” he mumbled to himself. “Hey Ma,”

“Yah, hey Ma, like you keep up with your own parents enough to act all casual,” his mother derided, her heavy accent making him snort away from the phone before he’d take her seriously.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, still grinning.

“But will you start keeping in contact? Ah, who knows! Where’ve you been, my boy?”

“I’ve been home, resting,” he sighed, nodding when Callie gestured to the kitchen as she walked by.

“And in all this time you couldn’t call me or your father? Not even your auntie?” She was really playing it up now, but he knew below the dramatic teasing, she was pissed he hadn’t kept in better contact.

“You could call too, y’know,” he grumbled, following Callie when she held up two options for dinner.

“Do you need me to send screenshots of all the unanswered calls, boy?”

He snorted. “No, it’s fine-”

“Why are you in such a good mood?”

He stuttered a bit, leaning against the counter. “Feeling better,”

“Uh-huh, and who’s been helping you then?”

Nick paused, watching Callie grab various items from the fridge and tug on his hand when she needed his height up from the top shelf above the fridge. He pinched her hip playfully after she shoved him half-heartedly, giggling when he pulled her back to mouth her cheek.

“A friend, Ma,” he lied, but he heard her blow a raspberry.

“What’s her name then?” Dinara asked, and he could just see her arms crossing, and that all-knowing look that made him feel 10 years old again.

Nick sighed; no use hiding her now. “Callie,”

Cal spun, cocking a brow, but he knew the gears were rotating in both the women's heads. The silence from the other end of the line was unnerving.

“Callie?”

“Mhm,”

Another brief silence. “Nick,” Dinara said, flatly, and he tensed.

“Mhm?”

“Is she…?”

He swallowed. “Yep,”

“Human!? She’s human?”

Before he could even get anything out, a male voice started to butt it’s way into the conversation alongside hissed curses as Nick’s father finagled the phone from his wifes grasp.

“Nick? Nick, she’s human? How did you manage?” Oleg asked, laughing. Knowing his dad, he was probably holding back on the questions he really wanted to ask: how much easier are humans than Orcs?

“Shut up, Oleg- give it- go, back off. Nick, how long? How long have you known her?” Dinara came back in, but now Nick had moved from the kitchen, pointing to his knee when Callie raised her hands in question.

“Nine-ish months?” he pondered, sitting at his table with a hard exhale.

“That long- why haven’t we met her?”

“Look how you just reacted,” he mumbled, and he was sure his mothers jaw slammed shut.

Another beat of silence. “You haven’t always had the best relationship with humans, my boy,” she sighed.

“This one is different,” he told her, his eyes following Callie. “I’m sure she’s not entirely human, sometimes- she’s too perfect,”

“Is that so?” She asked, kinder, and he only gave her a little ‘mhm’. “How’s that?”

He leaned onto an elbow, pondering a moment. “She’s never treated me like I was an Orc, like- I don’t feel like an outcast around her. I can’t put it into good words, Ma- she’s just… she’s just my girl,” he finished, feeling foolish for being unable to explain just why he was so endlessly in love with Callie, but also knew a great majority of that was their long talks, and the way she looked and touched him, and finished his life before he’d even planned it out thus far.

“Oh Nick, you fell hard for this one?” Dinara asked lovingly.

“She is the one, Ma,” he grinned when Callie cracked a goofy smile after handing him a few of the chicharrones she’d just finished frying, alongside an ice-pack she tossed on the table. He kissed her hand before she stepped away, earning another smile. “Come meet her,”

“Oh- really? Really?” Dinara squeaked. “He wants us to meet his human girlfriend,” she said away from the phone, and his dad answered with something unintelligible, the two of them carrying on a conversation of their own.

Nick continued to watch Callie dance around his kitchen, stumbling here and there- she was still a bit shaky from earlier, but even without normal grace, she was a moving piece of art.

“When can we go over?” She asked.

↠

“Okay- ah okay okay,” he exhaled, his stomach tensing with every swipe of her tongue over his sensitive head. She finally slid back, her lips gliding over the velvet skin of his shaft and placing a sweet kiss on his relaxed dick before swallowing the last of his load.

He was lifeless against the mattress, panting, a toothy grin on his face. He summoned enough energy to look up at her, but groaned, watching a seldom trail of semen that had trailed down her chin and under her jaw start to makes it way down her neck.

Holy fucking shit fuck- “On your chin,” he pointed, rolling before he stared for too long and got going all over again.

Callie left with a giggle to the bathroom, leaving him deflated, but otherwise entirely content. He stretched pleasantly, his joints popping and his leg shaking, finally stilling across the cool sheets with a long chuff.

“You okay?” she asked, leaning naked in the doorway and throwing back a small cup of mouthwash.

“Still bitter?” he frowned, cracking an eye open. She shrugged, weighing her hands before wandering away again. He heard her spit before she called, “It’s not that bad- you know me,”

He hmm-ed, moving his arms around like he was making an angel in the snow.

But with the approach of light footsteps came the soft impression on the bed beside him, and then Callie leaning over to place soft kisses across his jaw, resting on her elbows beside his head. “Your turn,” she smiled, purposely sitting down against his hand.

He chuckled, but looked at her, reaching to hold her face.

Her brows furrowed, her lips pursing. “What?”

“You know I was on the phone with parents earlier?” he asked, and she nodded. “They wanna meet you,”

Callie sat up, alarm ringing in her eyes. “They do?”

He nodded, resting his hands under his head. “They do,”

“Do they know about what happened with us?”

“Nope,”

“Why?”

“What’s the point? It’d only make things tense,” he reasoned, and she nodded indifferently.

“When?” she asked.

“Saturday, here. Told them I’d cook,”

She exhaled, pushing her hair back. He grinned; he always enjoyed seeing her face so clearly, even if she was worrying her lip nervously.

“They’re gonna like you,” he buoyed, snatching her hand to kiss her fingers.

“Says the one who told me how vicious your mother was when she met your other girlfriends,” she whined.

“You’re different,”

“Oh yeah?” How?”

Nick sat up, inclining close to her, and kissing her sweetly once before saying, “I didn’t plan to marry any of those other girls,”

It didn’t register right away, but when it did, he saw the gravity of his words flicker across her face. First it was a loose smile, then the furrowed brows, them pure confusion, all making him smirk.

“What?” she croaked.

“You heard me,”

She situated better, scooting ever so slightly closer on her knees. “How’re you so confident after everything that’s happened? You never once thought we were hopeless?”

“Sure, but I never stopped feeling it. No matter what I did. It’s been the same since I first saw you. Hit me like a bullet to the heart,” he explained, witnessing the glaze move over her eyes.

“Wh-” she cleared her throat when her voice cracked severely, moving her hair behind her ears. “Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Cause of the shit you’ll get for wanting to be with someone like me,”

He blew air. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone says, even if it’s our families. And it doesn’t have to be soon, hell it can be on our deathbeds, but no matter what, I’m gonna marry you one day Callie. Even if we’ve only known each other so briefly, and some of it was apart, I can’t fathom a life without you,”

She blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “You’re so sure you wanna spend that long with me?”

“Are you asking me, or yourself?” he questioned, leaning on a hand closer to her. “If you don’t want to spend that long with me, it’s okay-”

“I’m asking you. I know what I want- but do you?” she asked softly.

He kissed her again, resting his forehead against hers. “I want forever with you. Everything about you-”

“My anxiety?”

“Callie-”

“I can never give you a family,” she grieved, but he hushed her, kissing her silent.

“Anything, everything, always. You can’t scare me away,” he laughed, and so did she, but the restlessness of her heart was still rampant. “But first, you gotta meet my parents,”

She frowned. “Is this how you felt?”

“You’re probably feeling worse, honestly,”

Her ankle was wiggling beneath her bottom. “If they end up hating me I’m so sorry,”

“They won’t. If they do, still can't get rid of me,” he muffled against her neck, sitting forward onto his good knuckles.

Her hands guided his face back to hers, audibly sighing when she kissed him. He moved the fringe from her face, his wide palms holding her head as she showered him with smooches.

“Can we get dogs after we're married?” she asked, and he snorted again, nodding against her kiss.

“Pitbulls,” they said in unison. Some light giggling, the soft smacking of their kisses as he started to push her back, her arms snaking around his neck as she pulled her legs from under him and spread her knees to his sides. This was pure- smothered beneath his big body, touching every sturdy strand of muscle beneath his rough skin that rubbed against hers.

“Mm,” he breathed against her skin, moving down. “You smell good,” he bit her ribs gently, making her squirm. “Like really good,”

“Oh yeah?” she sighed, her waist raising when his cheek scraped down her stomach, lithe fingers fisting in the sheets above her head.

“So good.” he growled, his body snaking down between her legs, maneuvering his broad shoulders until her spread thighs were pushed closer to her chest, and he could worship her soaked core, listening intently to the way she cried his name.

“Nick go-” she giggled, pushing him away. “Daryl’s right there!”

“Two minutes,” he growled against her cheek, his arms around her preventing any escape.

“No,” a chaste kiss on his lips. “Go, get out, go!”

Nick grumbled, his face souring as he unwound from her reluctantly, his arms still heavy at her sides. “Are you starting soon?”

“Maybe- is that why you’re so hot to trot lately?” she exclaimed.

“Well duh, you just smell so… fertile,”

Callie laughed out, finally getting him off and turning his shoulders towards the door with a smack on his ass. “Take the cane,”

“Nope,”

“Take it,”

“Nope,”

“Nick-”

“I’ll see you later,” he called, opening the door to find Daryl waiting with his hands in his pockets, staring at the Orcs scattered about the street in their cars.

“Hey partner,” Nick chimed, trying to squeeze his way out as Callie walked at him with the cane.

“Why are there so many 'round here?” Ward asked, holding the door.

“Let's get going-”

“Cane,” Callie snapped, shoving it at him. Ward smirked watching Nick buckle and grab it, glaring at her before a final kiss.

“How you doing Daryl?” she asked, stepping out for a quick hug and peck on the cheek.

“Good as I can be,”

“Yeah, how’s your wife?” she asked through a forced smile, earning a small push from Nick.

“Still hates you,” he quirked back. “Your boy have all his pills?”

“Oh yeah- make sure he doesn’t ‘accidentally’ forget the cane, yeah?”

Nick shot her a final narrow glare, chuffing playfully as the two officers walked from the house. Surely he didn’t need the assistance anymore; there wasn’t even much of a limp left, but the extra help couldn’t hurt. Anything to have him as close to normal by the time his recovery was up. She knew there was no way his captain would approve any additional time off if needed.

“Got your lil mama back in the home, huh?” Ward smiled coyly, and although Nick chose to shrug, he caught the Orcs puffed chest and hidden smirk.

“Yeah,” he finally said, sitting in his sedan.

“So where to, blue boy?” Ward asked, pulling onto the street.

“Hanks? Same spot?”

“Dunno, is it secluded enough to share this urgent information that couldn’t wait?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Those were Callie’s words,”

“Were they true though?” he eyed Nick, who in turn was messing with the cane between his knees.

“Yeah, more or less.”

“Okay,” Ward exhaled, setting his half eaten sandwich aside and ready to also set aside their small talk that Nick had kept up the duration of the car ride and visit to the regular lunch hangout. “What’re we doing here?”

Over the weeks, Nick and Callie had started to pick up on each others nervous tics. She would sometimes run her tongue over her bottom teeth as if she had filed tusks, and now his knee was bouncing.

“That prick we work with- Gerrald?” Nick started.

“What about him?”

“I think he did it,”

“Did it… did it? Him?” Ward intoned, leaning forward onto his elbows.

Nick nodded. “He’s always had an issue with me, but I think he wants to get his hands on Callie,”

“How’d you come to that?”

“You’ve heard the shit he said, left in my locker- spread around the station? ‘Nd bout a week ago Callie picked up a shift at Two Hands-” he waved off Ward’s surprised gaze. “She said he was there, had bought out a private dance with her and cornered her saying shit about how she used to be his favorite girl, some shit about old times,”

“Just from that?” Ward questioned.

“He’s always had his eyes on her, all this time. I wondered why he fuckin’ picked and bugged when Callie first showed up at the station, and I think that’s why. He could’ve been planning this for years but didn’t have the momentum until I came into the picture,” he groaned, running his hand over his head.

Ward pondered, the pieces almost audibly clicking together in his head. “The shit the attacker said to you,”

“Sound familiar?”

They both leaned back in their seats, but Ward held his own chin, shaking his head. “Gerrald dipped,”

Nick blinked. “What?”

“Bastards been MIA for a few days now. Heig called his wife and she doesn’t know where he bounced off to. There’s a warrant out for his arrest, too,”

“What?”

Ward nodded. “Took off with a few shotguns and ammo from the kit room, but we can’t find him anywhere,”

“Shotguns?” Nick hissed, and Ward nodded.

“I think it’s worth telling Heig,”

Nick shook his head. “We can’t,”

“Look I know the shit you put up with-”

“I have Fogteeth involved,” Nick mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes pinched shut. “You have three behind you,”

Daryl didn’t move, no matter how severely tempted he was to turn and glare, but instead, the full front of his silent fury hit Nick. There was that vein that bulged along his temple, and when he talked-

“How involved?” He said through grit teeth, his outward appearance otherwise calm.

She shielded her eyes against the winter sun once the mugs were set down, and searched the numerous cars parked along the street for a familiar face. But when she finally found him sat in his car, just like every other day, she whistled loudly. Matuk turned, pulling an ear bud out, and nodding when she waved him over.

Callie pulled the jacket tighter around her waist as she sat, cradling her own mug close to her chest. Another storm was moving it’s way over LA, with strong gusts rattling the screen roll that usually hung before Nick’s porch. With it up, she could always survey from a window inside, and had come to recognize all of the cars the Fogteeth used, and of course Matuk’s SUV.

“Hey cutie,” she played, but he moved past her into the other seat, grabbing the hot mug. “Figured you got tired of sitting in the car,”

He shrugged. “If I could nap it wouldn’t be so bad,” he mumbled, sipping the creamy tea.

“Can’t switch shifts?” she inquired, her feet raising to rest on the beams.

“Nope,”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her nails drumming against the ceramic mug. He shrugged again.

“At least there’s compensation,”

“Money in being Fogteeth?”

“Sometimes,”

She nodded. “Maybe I should join,” Now he laughed, and she cocked a brow. “I could do it,”

“If you sprouted tusks maybe,” he chuckled, his hoarse voice the lightest she’d heard yet.

“And I gained about 100 pounds worth'a muscle?”

He nodded, situating deeper into the seat. Callie watched him, seemingly moving effortlessly despite his impressive size. She was sure he could crush the mug that looked minute in his hand easily if he chose.

“How old are you?” she asked then, and he eyed her. “Im just curious- Nick always refers to you as ‘the kid’,”

Matuk rolled his eyes. “Seventeen,”

She blinked. “Really? So young?”

He nodded, flashing a forced grin.

“And already with kids?” She’d tried numerous times to ask the question that had picked at her since she’d first met him at the supermarket, but never had the chance to bring it up casually until now.

“Who said I had kids?” he grimaced.

“When you first started following me around, you left a store with diapers and lollipops,”

“For my baby sisters,” he corrected, looking at her. Ahh, that’s precious.

“A girlfriend waiting around for you all day?” she kept on pushing, keeping eye contact from behind her mug.

“Nah,” he mumbled, looking back out to the street. “Boyfriend,”

Callie smiled, her mug resting in her lap. It made a little more sense now- before she thought his politeness was simply because he wasn’t interested, but Nick had told her that it didn’t matter what race a girl could be. If they were aroused, an Orc would know, and more than likely act on it. “What’s his name?”

He looked at her nervously, before answering, “Larek, but I call him ‘Lala’ so my family thinks its a girl,”

She got that. She didn’t know how Orcs usually handed that type of predicament, but she knew full well just how old school Mexican families could be.

“How long?”

“Couple years,”

“I wish I could offer some wisdom but I think I’d end up saying something color blind instead of doing any real help,” Callie stated, adjusting in the chair.

He gave her a sidelong glance. “That’s funny coming from a human who dates an Orc,”

“That’s different,” she assured.

“Not too much. So what’s next for you and munguz?” he asked, sliding down his chair that barely held him.

“Dunno, figured we’d see where it goes,” she said although Nick’s bold statement about marriage had saddled her mind since that late night.

“How’re you so calm?” Matuk asked, and she looked at him again, puzzled.

“Calm?”

“Cause you’re-”

The sharp, piercing screech of tires burning across the pavement pulled both of their attention before them, but Matuk was on his feet before Callie even recognized what was happening.

A sedan had swiped one of the watching Orcs cars, and was winding down the street hazardously as the driver struggled to regain control, but only gained speed with every foot covered. First it was the one that was hit, then another car, then a third following the hitter, all peeling onto the road after him.

“Go inside.” Matuk ordered, gliding down the steps and across the yard.

It had gone from a hit and run to something alarming, instantly. She didn’t bother with the cups, nor the knocked over chair as she stumbled into Nick’s home, locking the door behind herself.

She wanted to look out the window, finding the silence from outside more unsettling than anything, but couldn’t find the courage to do so. She stood in the middle of his living room, the impending loom of disbelief snaking up her legs.

“Matuk?” she called weakly. Should I hide?

But then figures started moving outside, at a distance. Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears, she couldn’t tell what it was.

Shadows against the windows, what she hoped were Fogteeth.

The doorknob jiggled, and yanked roughly in it’s joint.

“Oh fuck.” she whispered, backing up. Her hand patted her hips- no phone, and when her eyes jumped, she couldn’t find it.

A deafening bang from the other side of the door made her flinch, and it rattled in it’s frame.

The brief words passed behind the door distracted her hands that had jutted beneath the couch in search of the bat, but when there were two more thunderous bangs, her fingertips brushed the bat.

When she rose with it clutched in her hands, the door swung open, smacking against the adjacent wall.

No way this aluminum bat would stop the two lumbering Orcs stomping in, their tusks covered with ski masks, but there was nothing left to do but fight, even though she was ready to burst into tears and hide. Everything on her trembled terribly, especially her hands that couldn’t seem to find decent grip.

Callie screamed inarticulately when they lunged at her, swinging wildly, but also backing herself up into a corner if she kept moving away.

She tried stepping forward, but they’d reclaim their space when she ultimately flinched back when one of them spooked her.

They watched her carefully, their hateful eyes without fear, even if it meant taking a swing from a bat.

If she moved any farther back, all she’d have left was to run out the back, but what if they-

“Gotcha!”

A set of arms wrapped around her in a crushing hug, and yanked her up, effectively shaking the bat from her hands.

“Let me go- get the fuck off!” she hollered, kicking, fighting, screaming, clawing for anything. One of the Orcs grabbed her ankles as another closed the door barely hung from its hinge, and the mysterious figure holding her backed up, carrying her away.

The hallway was narrow, and she used it to her advantage.

With a loud shout and sudden twist of her body, she managed to wiggle enough that the person holding her loosened and bounced awkwardly against the wall, and she pulled them to the ground as she fell.

But she was up faster. She didn’t bother looking- she was on her feet, bolting for Nick’s room, but another hand around her wrist yanked her back, and the crack in her arm made her cry out.

She slammed against the ground with a hard slap, the wind coming out of her in harsh coughs.

Callie felt the blinding smack of a fist against her temple before she heard it, alongside the loud popping of her neck when her head flew to the side, her cheek smacking against the floor. She raised her hands, but another one blew into the side of her face.

Coppery blood filled her cheek, and her lip stung like a bitch when a large hand clutched her neck mercilessly. She clawed at it, her feet kicking again when the weight of a knee in her stomach stopped her, more coughs squeezing from her. They were heavy- the hand was tight, breathing was difficult.

So was focusing- she couldn’t make out what was leaning over her. Definitely a person, but who?

They were breathing in her face, and the trace of a hand alongside her thigh made her flinch, and fight again.

Her mouth opened to scream just as the wide swing of a boot landed against her side. She choked, her chest aching once the air had left her body but still constricted, but another blow followed soon after, right at the center of her stomach.

She wheezed, clawing across the floor, reaching, but another hand yanked against a firstful of hair, pulling her up.

“Look at me,” a male snarled, but she was too afraid.

A sharp slap against her cheek, and she tried to move from their grasp, her scalp burning.

“Look at me!” it bellowed, and her eyes finally opened, but this time, she couldn’t stop the torrent of sobs that left her.

“See what you made me do? You know how long it’s gonna take for that face to heal before I wanna see you dance again?” he shouted, back-handing her.

She forced blood from her nose, her hands raising shakily to try and pry Gerralds hands from her hair, but her hand could barely make a first.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you go” he taunted, tossing her down.

The back of her head bounced off the ground, and it felt like ages before she could roll on her side, and focus on Nick’s room, but her vision was washing over with red.

Just crawl- fucking crawl, Callie. She tried. Her arm was useless- she couldn’t even lean on it without weeping in pain, but her limbs didn’t listen. It took too long to tell each to move, and by the time her good arm had extended, he was pulling her back by the ankles again, the Orc from before grabbing her and flipping her.

She screamed for Nick, for Matuk- anyone, but there was only the perverse laughter behind her.

The tear of duct tape made her flinch, and she tried to kick her legs when she felt it winding around her knees, digging sharply into her skin.

Callie screamed- begging for help past the blood coating her mouth, but the Orcs monstrous hand smothered her face, and held down against her chest.

“Almost done, Valeria, hang on sweet girl,” Gerrald cooed, moving over her, and grabbing her wrists.

She sobbed, and fought against him, muffled behind the strong hand pushing her head sideways, but he easily grasped her wrists and wound the tape around them, tighter than around her knees.

“We’re gonna go now,” he breathed heavily, bringing her broken face up. “We’re gonna go away, and I’m gonna show you,” he paused, sneering, moving her plastered hair from her face. She whimpered, trying to move from his hold. “I’m gonna show you why you should’ve never left hunan.”

“NO, NO, HELP!” She screamed, thrashing, even as the two lifted her.

There was another loud slam of the door swinging open, and suddenly she was dropped, her head bouncing against the floor again.

It was quiet a moment, her body so still. The pain felt like a dull ache, bearable, almost muted enough to let her sleep.

But she turned, and saw the two Orcs fighting off more that had rushed in, but the new ones were brandishing the Fogteeth colors. They overtook the attackers, two more Fogteeth bolting over her and down the hall in pursuit. There was so much commotion- yelling, the table breaking under their iron bodies as they fought, more shouting.

Callie curled inwards, the pain in her abdomen worsening by the second, spreading down her thighs. The throb in her skull was debilitating, and the light coming in from the door was extreme.

“Callie?”

Her crusted eyes opened, but she flinched when hands reached for her.

“It’s me, it’s okay,” Matuk panted, carefully moving her hands up and cutting the tape. It ripped painfully from her skin, her broken arm ringing. She cried, her arms remaining drawn in as the tape around her knees was released.

“You’re okay- you’re gonna be okay.” he kept saying, but it all kept getting worse.

She sobbed when he moved his arms beneath her, cradling her against his chest and carrying her.

She slipped back and forth into blackness, only to be boomeranged back into consciousness and pain when someone jostled her. The muffled shouting was bugging her, and she slurred at them to shut up, but wasn’t sure if anyone understood her.

There was the blaring alarm of an ambulance, and people around her, but she couldn’t open her eyes against the sunny skies, so instead pressed her inflamed face into Matuk’s chest. The cold air felt better, but everything was hurting. Her stomach felt like it was folding in on itself, her arm constantly sending resounding shocks across her chest, her head throbbing.

She begged for relief when she could, but there was only the stiff mattress of the gurney beneath her once Matuk had placed her there, and his hand leaving hers when she was loaded into the rig, a neck brace pulling her jaw upwards.

She was wincing, her lip stinging when her face pinched, and her hands shaking as she rested them over her stomach.

“It hurts.” she sobbed, a paramedic leaning over her to talk, but everything was incomprehensible.

All she could understand was pain.

I want Nick.

↠

Nick bypassed the check-in counter, pushing through anyone in his way, ignoring when nurses tried to stop him.

He smacked the doors that lead to the triage center, the ones that wouldn’t open no matter how viciously he thrashed.

“Jakoby calm down!” Ward begged, trying to yank back the raging Orc, but he was like a wall of iron, unmovable.

“Where is she-“ he panted, spinning to find anyone besides the nurses urging him to calm down. “I need to see my girlfriend,” he tried, but they weren’t helping him. They continued to shut him down, ordering him to leave, telling him he was scaring the other people waiting in reception.

“Open the fucking doors!” He bellowed, but Ward had him around the shoulders now, finally dragging him back some.

“Nick shut up- c’mon move, move with me,” Daryl struggled, pulling him away, but now security was coming at them. “Nick you need to calm the fuck down or you’ll be asking for her behind bars,” Ward hissed, but it was like he was caught in a delirious cloud. He was wobbly, gripping Daryl’s arms harshly. “He’s a cop- we’re LAPD, it’s fine,” Ward told the security guards, still trying to speak to Nick directly.

Ward spoke in his favor, trying to rid the small huddle of nurses around them, insistent that Nick leave, but he shook his head with raging eyes, struggling not to growl or shout anymore.

“My girlfriend is here- her sister called me,” Nick pleaded.

“Unless you’re family you can’t go back until-”

“Her sister called me!” he snapped, but Daryl pulled him back again.

More indiscernible shouting, the security starting to reach for Nick’s hands even though Daryl did his best to talk over everyone and reserve his rights.

“Nick!”

His head spun, finding Rosie coming from the door he’d tried opening, still in uniform.

In two steps he was across the room.

“I called him in,” she declared, both of them turning away.

“Ma’am you can’t-”

“I said I vouch for him.” she snapped, silencing anymore rebuttal from the people around them.

Finally through the door, he didn’t lag in the slightest as they started their way through the curtained beds and overall commotion of an emergency room.

“All they told me was she was assaulted,” he quavered, his eyes jumping wildly.

“She’s been in and out since she got here- she has a lot of tests and scans to get through but she can at least respond when she’s awake,” Rosie told him, and at last approached a curtain. Pulling it back only revealed an empty room, and both of them spun wildly.

“Where-” Nick started.

“Stay here,” Rosie said as she left again, but he didn’t want to stay.

It smelled like blood, and there was some peppered across the floor alongside soaked gauze. Her shirt was there also, cut down the middle, stained.

He whined, holding his head, walking in circles. He was fighting the urgency to run through every room of the hospital to find her, and be by her. He needed to know she was okay- that she could talk, and know he was there.

He spun when the curtain rings scraped, but it was Rosie, alongside a male doctor. She looked grim, like news he didn’t know if he was ready to hear had been delivered to her first.

“This is the father,” Rosie introduced, shakily, and confusion flashed across his face.

“Sir? You’re Miss Flores’s partner?” the doctor asked, and Nick nodded. “I’m Deshawn Smith, I’m the attending that triaged Calista when she came in,” he explained calmly, extending his hand to shake Nick’s weak grip.

“Nick,” the orc mumbled. Father?

“The extent of her injuries won’t be known until we’ve finished the scans she’s in right now for, but I don’t see anything life threatening based on preliminary tests,”

Nick exhaled, having not realized he was holding his breath.

“What we know right now is her right arm is broken, and all of the gashes on her are superficial, but she might have some bleeding on the brain which is why I've ordered a number of scans. Now there’s some information I need from you,” Deshawn said, pulling out a small notebook and pen from his breast pocket. “How far along was she?”

“Far along?” he repeated, and Rosie’s hand rested on his arm.

“Nick-”

“In her pregnancy, sir,” Deshawn clarified.

That broke through his thoughts; shattered the haze like glass. His heart that was once clapping madly in his heart was only a small flutter now, the wind effectively knocking from his lungs. A stunning presence was suddenly filling his heart, a blinding disbelief turning his gut.

“She’s pregnant?” Nick cracked, and Rosie’s hand on his shoulder tightened.

Deshawn adjusted the cards clipped to his scrub nervously, blinking a few times. “Were- were you unaware?”

Nick nodded.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Sir,” he adjusted his glasses this time. “I truly hate having to tell you this, but unfortunately she’s miscarried,”

...what?

What?

His mouth motioned to speak, but he couldn’t force it up over the crushing disappointment sitting on his chest. Just as the presence in his heart had become so familiar, so quickly, it was gone- ripped away. All at once, the reality of the situation came crashing back around him after his momentary escape into bliss.

“We believe it was the blunt force trauma to her abdomen and overall stress the attack had on her body that caused it,” Deshawn explained, but he only saw vacant eyes staring back at him. “I’m truly sorry, Nick. Would you like me to come back to speak with you when you’ve had time to process this news?”

It took a few times repeating in his head to really hear what he’d asked, but Nick shook his head.

He listened to him explain that Callie was beaten brutally, but for the time being, they didn’t expect her to pass or fall into a coma. He listened as he explained that she’d be in hospital for a few days, but recovery time wouldn’t be as lengthy as his. And he questioned, silently, in his own head, how he hadn’t known that she’d been pregnant? How did he not sense it?

↠

Almost 2 AM.

The hall had gone quiet long ago, mostly nurses moving around at this point.

Exhaustion hung on him, but he was too restless to sleep. All day he’d followed nurses from room to room, listening second hand as more of Callie’s family came in, all gathering in the lobby. They didn’t come up to him, but he didn’t approach them either. He’d returned to cowering away, his head hung. Sometimes Rosie would sit by him, sharing updates, encouraging him to eat or drink, but he couldn’t. Concern roiled his gut; there’d be no keeping food down.

By the time she’d received her own room, he didn’t pour into her room when her family did.

Although he’d waited all day to even see a glimpse of her face, he couldn’t be near when they learned he’d knocked her up. They already hated him, he thought. They’d scream and murder him when they knew.

It engrossed him entirely. Callie had been pregnant, by him, with their baby, and now she wasn’t. All that time not knowing something was blooming in her womb. He buried his face in his palms again, breathing deeply.

The world could swallow him up from his feet at that moment, and it would’ve been a relief. He’d rather feel anything but this.

Nick didn’t think anything of the footsteps approaching him until he spotted boots out of the corner of his eye instead of the normal nurse attire.

Matuk and Doghru, but younger male was worse for wear. Half his face was swollen, cut, bruised- a bandaged hand held close to his chest.

“Nick,” Dorghu acknowledged calmly, waiting for Nick to stand. His handshake was weak, as was his overall mental state. He didn’t try to shake hands with the kid.

“We need to talk,” Dorghu stated, motioning over towards the stairwell.

“Matuk,” the scarred Orc nodded, leaning against the railing to the stairs. Matuk stepped forward, his eyes fleeting many times from Nick’s hard gaze.

“It was the cop,” he said first, his speech slurred.

The delirious anger was immediate. It turned Nick, having to steady himself against the wall. He fucking knew it- he knew he’d try to make a move but thought the protection would be enough.

“He came with other Orcs, from the Volki- they distracted Jregh and Sarod and Urul and ambushed me when I was checking around your house,” he explained, ashamed, his head hung. “They were trying to kidnap her when I came in, but the cop bolted before anyone could get him-”

“He did that to her?” Nick interrupted.

Matuk nodded, sniffling. “I’m sorry,”

He tried not to hate him- it wasn’t his fault. It really wasn’t, but without Gerrald there to murder, he needed someone to blame- to make sense of this nightmare.

“Is she okay?”

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Nick mumbled. I haven’t seen my own fucking girlfriend yet. Nick exhaled, looking at Dorghu. “She was pregnant,”

The head of the Fogteeth stepped forward, looking between them. Dorghu looked as shocked as Rosie did when they first explained her condition, but with a roll of his shoulders, he’d composed any emotion.

“It didn’t survive,” he stated, already knowing. Nick shook his head, on the verge of collapsing. His body had never ached so terribly.

A sturdy hand on his shoulder brought his eyes back up.

“I’m sorry,” Dorghu said, sincerely, offering comfort as best he knew. But Nick moved his hand, his arms raising in discomfort. He didn’t want condolences, or pity- he would handle that heartache when Callie was by his side.

“I need to find him,” Nick grumbled.

“We have the two that were with him. We’re working the details out of them,” Dorghu explained.

“How long?”

“However long they withstand torture,” Matuk said, looking up. “Volki can be resilient,”

“Not limitless, though,” Dorghu corrected, nodding thoughtfully at the young Orc.

“When you have him, I want to do it. I want to be there,” Nick said behind mashed teeth, breath flaring through his nostrils. “You have to tell me,”

“We will. You’ll square it, I’ll make sure,”

Nick nodded, and grabbed Dorghu’s hand when extended. “Give Calista our best.”

The two departed down the steps, and Nick saw the severe limp Matuk was burdened with as he struggled down. He took the moment to lean back against the cold wall, and close his eyes, letting the silence of the stairwell seep into his thoughts.

Fury rested at the borders of his coherent thoughts, but he could bridle it until the time came.

With a deep exhale, he walked from the stairwell and back down the hall, turning the corner to sit before Callie’s room again.

Rosie was there, and smiled vacantly when he approached.

“You okay?” she asked as he sat beside her.

He shrugged. “Needed a minute,” he lied.

“Yeah,” Rosie’s voice broke, her hand smoothing down her wild curls. “Callie’s awake, talking,” she told him, and his head snapped in her direction, his eyes brightening. “She’s asking for you,”

A remnant of a grin curled his mouth, but he looked at the door. “I’ll wait,”

“They’re not mad at you, Nick. They know it wasn’t your fault,” she told him, grabbing his arm.

“That doesn’t change how a parent feels about their kid being mauled,” he grumbled.

She sighed. They both drifted in their own thoughts for some time, only looking up when the commotion in her room heightened; they must’ve been getting ready to leave.

“She didn’t tell them about the baby,”

His head hung. Our baby.

The door opened, and they both stood. Callie’s parents and Patricia were there, tired, finding Nick immediately.

If it hadn’t been for the clear misery on Luciana’s face, he would’ve flinched when she reached for him, but instead, there was a tight embrace pulling him down. She was strong for her size, just like Callie, her grip unyielding as she suppressed small sobs.

“Watch over her,” she said, leaning back, holding his face. “I trust you. Stay by her side, yerno.” she said softly, her eyes red from obvious crying, a tissue clutched in her palm.

Nick nodded, nervously shaking hands with her wary father as they passed.

He didn’t expect Patricia to step forward, her usual cutting expression softened and her hands clasped before her, but he sidestepped, struggling to flatten his hateful expression.

There was no way he could speak to her without lashing out. He saw the messages- she had no business being here. Although she turned, and said his name, he instead briefly hugged Rosie before finally stepping to Callie’s room.

He moved silently, the room dark with the exception of a small wall light before the head of the bed.

But he saw her.

Curled on her side, her battered face moving up when he closed the door behind himself. Nick released a shaking breath, the burn behind his eyes enough to bring a hand to his face to rub over his eyelids.

Her casted hand reached for him just as he made it to her side, but he couldn’t kiss her split lips when he leaned over her, carefully lifting her whimpering body into a sitting position so he could cradle her against his chest. She was weak; her arms around him were loose, her body mostly limp in his hold. Nick rocked her carefully when she wept against him, moving her dirty, crusted hair from her face so he could look down at her, and mindfully wipe away tears that slipped down her bruised cheek.

He was fighting tears of his own, detailing her bloodshot eye sat inside a bruised socket and deep lacerations on her temple, the shallow burns around her knees he drew up closer, bringing her into his lap when he sat on her bed.

Nick made sure her IV tubes didn’t twist before he held her face, gently sshing her as her hoarse cries lessened.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeated featherlight, clearing his throat often. “I’m so sorry- I thought you’d be safe at home with them all there,”

Her swollen lip trembled, her eyes still glossy, but she shook her head, a hand curling weakly under his chin.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, sniffling and wincing when her face stung. “It would’ve happened no matter who was there,”

He shook his head. “This should never've happened,”

Callie shrugged, barely, adjusting her head against his arm and closing her tired eyes. A lingering kiss on her cheek relaxed her, continuing to rock her gently. She was dozing off, barely managing to keep her eyes open; he couldn’t stop looking at her. He’d left her one way and come back to disaster. All the time he waited to see her felt so brief; it was little to endure now that he had her in his arms, and could hear her speak.

“I didn’t know I was pregnant,” she sighed, craning her neck back to look up at him. “I promise I didn’t know,”

“I know, I know,” he said shakily. Fuck- keep it together, you shit head. “Do you- do you know how far…?”

“They said a couple weeks,”

His face tightened. “Tiny little thing,”

Callie’s face was sorrowing, tears brimming her eyes once again as Nick’s own filled, unable to fight back the burn any longer.

“I thought it couldn’t happen, Nick,” she whispered, holding his head when it dropped into her shoulder, a choked cry shaking his broad shoulders as she threw a wobbly arm around his shoulders. His sobs were silent, but they swayed him, the tears soaking through her hospital gown. With delicacy, and grief, he clung to her injured form and fell apart, lifting his damp face to wipe it crudely against his shoulder when she started, knowing he had no business falling apart when she was the one handling all the aftermath.

But she still wiped his face, her powerless hands holding his cheeks when she kissed his forehead, whispering comforting words and declarations of undying love.

Their turmoil settled, ending with Callie lied nestled firmly against his chest, his arms about her protectively. He listened to her breathe as she slept, thankful for every one exhaled. It wasn’t until those moment did he realize that the signs of her pregnancy had been there all along.

The savory layer that had coated her skin, that allured him so deeply, was gone. Where once she smelled luscious, and so full of life, was only ill health now, and blood.

He moved his cheek against her head, watching where his knuckles pressed tentatively against her swollen stomach.

She stirred, and he rubbed her arm, pulling her closer when she burrowed her face against him.

Everything on him was exhausted- he needed sleep, but he couldn’t flip the switch in his mind. The longer he stayed still, the stronger the ire became. Above all, he wished he could turn back time, and never leave the house, but with the unlikeliness of that came the desire to find Gerrald.

He couldn’t stop the vile thoughts from bombarding him; what would he have done if he’d taken her? How far would she have been hidden away?

Nick exhaled, pinching his eyes shut and wrapping her tighter in an embrace.

All this time passed, everything they’d been through to finally make a baby, and then it be ripped from her hands.

By him.

It was all because of him.

He wiggled his face next to hers, shushing her softly when she whined.

I’ll make this right, Callie. I’ll make it right for our baby.

In another life, little one. 🖤 Two chapters left of Bell Peppers; I've already started working on part 2: Milagro

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kainfamilyfortune · 5 years

Text

Thea - Journal Entry #11-13

11. Unto Me

It felt as if a weight had been put unto me, as I was jarred awake from the dream that I had experienced. I fashioned my chain mail armor, clasping the plated boots and lacing pauldrons onto my shoulders, tracing the golden lines as I secured my gloves. It was all so heavy. Not my gear that I had grown accustomed to over the last five years in service to the king, no, this weight came from the realization that I didn’t know the true history of my name. Silas was never commended, nor mentioned. He was our savior, not Andrew. I needed closure on someone who could just be a figment of my imagination. It was a dream after all. I needed to write to Pap.

Pap,

I wanted to write to you, not because I believe this to be my final goodbye to you, although we march on the Zandalari capitol tomorrow morning at dawn, so I guess, yes. It could be. My wish is to seek knowledge on our lineage. You have always been one to carry our family history proudly on your shoulders and I want to carry that legacy, but I must know. Did Andrew have a brother when he left the Arathor camps in Tirisfal? Does the name Silas mean anything to you?

I had a dream about him, but I’m not sure if it is just my mind playing tricks on me, or if Silas really did exist. He saved Andrew in my dream.

I love you. Light find you.

Thea

I hastily ripped the page out of my journal and secured it in the nearest envelop I could find sitting on a few barrels and walked out of the crowded hull, passing by the soldiers I would be leading into battle as they were adorned in the standard issue vestments. The morning sky of Boralus was breathtaking but I didn’t have time to take it all in, calls of docks-men blaring out orders as they carried shipments of ammunition, arrows and bullets on carts to the cranes to on board them to the neighboring vessels. I rushed off the ship through the chaos, helmet under my shoulder, letter in hand. Mailbox... Mailbox... There. I deposited the envelope, and turned to find two commanders flanking me, they saluted and I mirrored the action before going at ease.

The burly commander that I had met with the King’s Consul, Commander Osian Pye, looked at me with careful consideration before speaking in a gruff tone, “Ms. Kain, now is not the time to be writing letters, your attendance is required for the all-hands. Follow us.” They turned and began walking towards the barracks, it was a bit of a walk but it gave me time to finally admire the Tiragarde mountain line. I could hear bells ringing and hollering of workers from the docks as we made our way through the bustling, seemingly floating, city on the harbor. The sea salt spray of air was something that I would surely not get used to in the short time we were here, but I would surely come here again for the beautiful buildings and lush gardens. Ma would have had a field day seeing it all.

We approached the barracks, overlooking the lines of soldiers in the courtyard, weaving in the classic royal blue and gold with dark sage and brown from both armies. Commander Pye gave me a curt nod before going to the team he would be leading and I found mine. I walked down the stairs, eyeing each soldier carefully, inspecting gear, stance, posture, everything I was trained to look for to be out of place. I paused in front of a boy, maybe seventeen, small stubble of facial hair and shockingly blue eyes dressed in mage robes - he slouched slightly to the right, I raised my hand to him, sharply tapping the back of his shoulder blade, aligning his spine - he flinched, my jaw clenched in the silent exchange before throwing my authoritative voice in his direction, calmly as I paced in front of him, “You see your mark, a heavy-set Orc about fifteen yards ahead of you, in a narrow alley. He wields a mace, dressed in red robes made of loose fitting chain mail. Behind him you see a troll mother and her infant child. You don’t want to throw a fireball because then you would surely kill innocents, but your target is inching ever closer to your demise. What do you do?”

His face is fearful, but his eyes dart around, looking for the answer in his book riddled brain as he begins to stutter out an answer, “I-I...I imbue myself...with erm.. fire armor, although it’s- it’s volatile, surely I can wait for hi-is approach and deflect his mace causing him to back fire all his energy unto him.” The sweat dripped into his brow as he finished his assessment.

“With that posture. No.” I slapped his spine for correction, hard enough to surely leave a lingering bruise, as he flinched in pain again. “You show too much weakness, your stance will cause you to topple as he earth charges into you, you clearly didn’t listen.” I paced in front of him letting him breath heavily a moment in confusion, before he blurted out, “Wha-What?” I backhanded him in discipline to not speak out of turn, as he grasped his cheek, recoiling in pain. I addressed the eavesdropping team. “You will speak, when spoken to. You will follow every order I say. Your lives are in my hands, and if I have any of you fall out of line then you will surely die in the most dangerous place on this earth. Do I make myself clear?”

In unison my newly appointed team barked out, “Crystal.” and my attention came back to the freshly recruited mage, “The correct answer was to counter his totem, then use your fire armor for his approach, and instead of hoping it would back fire, shift your weight forward so that you use his weight against him. You are small, he is large. Use that your advantage.”

12. Fortitude

The rest of the day flew by with training exercises and drills, weapon diagnoses, and finally briefing the teams on the routes we would be taking. We would be taking the left sector up to the capitol while the second team led by Pye would be taking the right. Our sector would be the most crucial as we would be covering not only the port of call on the western edge of the city but also dealing with four sectors of troll tribes up the three steps in order to securely venture down into what we were referring as the ‘Opulence Chamber’ as there is less guarded passage way leading to the King’s throne, for teams three and four to go as soon as we were done with occupation of the city. If we were successful. All of it rides on the distraction teams currently heading to Nazmir.

The last few hours were anxiety-riddled. The captain and admiral who were leading the third and fourth teams were taking a nap in the makeshift war room, dimly lit by candles as the sun set on the harbor. Pye sat in his chair looking over notes of his own and I carefully analyzed the map, counting out the steps and turns silently to myself before Pye perked up for conversation, “I saw what you did in the courtyard, Pruet’s a good kid, just not initiated yet. Never seen a real battle in his life.”

I paused my counting, writing a tally on my notes and placing both hands upon the table where the worn map sat, “He shows promise Pye, just no backbone. Why in the hell did they assign him, I thought we were dealing with the best of the best here?”

His fingers were woven into one another as he leaned back in his chair with a coy grin upon his face, “He was the top of his class in Dalaran, but you can have all the book smarts in the world and still not get anywhere. I’m just saying, go easy on him.”

This infuriated me, sparking a straw I had to pick with the guy who seemed to continually undermine me. “He’s already had it easy, being held up in his floating city with his books and friends. Treating anyone easy doesn’t build strength or earn respect or win wars. He needs to damn well know who’s truly out kill him and face it.”

His coy smile faltered slightly before he corrected himself as shifted back in his chair, he leaned on the table, “Spoken like a true Orc, Kain.” He bellowed in aggressive laughter. “’Lok'tar ogar’ - You may have had years of discipline and training only some of us wish we had, you were a damned prodigy. You haven’t had it hard in your life no more than anyone else may had have in theirs. Quit your fucking judgement and start fulfilling your promises to this army.”

My temper got the better of me, that was the one thing the Argent Crusade couldn’t whittle away from me. I yelled, “Judgement?! Speak for your own damned self! I’m trying to forge soldiers, not cowards like you. I read your file, you lost control of your own men and fled in Dustwallow, which would had turned the tide in the war, maybe Theramore wouldn’t have been bombed because you. You should had kept to your own, instead of worrying about my promises, because as far as I see it, I’m actually making a difference here.”

His eyes flared as he stood, throwing his journal with such ferocity onto the table, not speaking a word for a moment as he processed his anger which now turned to sadness. His tone was soft, concise. “I regret that day, more than you will ever know. The marsh drove them mad, beasts that would make anyone run, not only that but Horde opposition. I had save my own sanity-” I caught him off.

“To save yourself? Letting thirty men find their own way in that harsh landscape to just die? You said it yourself - you haven’t had it hard in your life no more than anyone else. Imagine how they must had felt then. If you disciplined your men, actually trained them, you may have been the war hero you think you are.” I spat that last line out and he knew I was right. He sat back down, staring at the floor.

“I paid my price when I had to inform the families. They lashed out in anger. Varian was going to have my head, but as aggressive as he was back then he could still see that I could lead. I was demoted of course, but you and I are tacticians built for war. Difference is you are still wide-eyed. Uninitiated to lose everything around you in an instant, and before you open your fucking mouth about Lordaeron, know that you weren’t the only one who lost their home. I miss Tirisfal as much as you do. No, what lays in front of you is loosing your sense of security, your humble greetings, your ale on a harsh winter’s night, all the people you love. You’ll grow tired of the fighting and politics. You will grow to be loved until a major mistake changes you and everything around you, and when you see the faces of those families, the agony of lose you experience will be pain worse than many swords piercing in your now laden heart.”

I paused for a moment, admiring the wisdom of such words coming from a cold shell of a man who had experienced so much with the second and third wars, despite my judgement, the finely made double edged sword he had crafted with his words - I knew that he was right. I remembered when I told Dustin’s family about his passing, carrying out their wishes and digging his grave and burying him. On the other side of the hilt I knew his words were wrong because I have so much more left to give to this world besides fighting and politics. Will I grow tired of it? On that hand he would be right, but I hope that eventually we will live in a world of peace, or at least a world that doesn’t need to show a strength of great power at every turn of events. I stayed silent, looking a somber man as he grabbed his journal and left the room, I looked towards the captain and admiral, who had stirred awake from the argument and had stayed silent this entire time. Awkwardly, I smirked at them before continuing to make tallies on the map of the battle ahead.

13. Word of Glory

The next hour, I copied down the finished plans. I think I have best situation I could muster out of the terrible hand we’ve been dealt with. The bells rang and then everyone fell in line awaiting deployment to the ships. The nervous ticks of my comrades shown brighter than we all would had liked but we we kept pushing forward as we made our way through the bustling docks, despite the eerie blanket of stars that cloaked the city in night, it still was as lively as it was in day. The ship groaned and creaked as we boarded the vessel. As everyone embarked, I couldn’t help but still have the lasting words of Pye ringing in between my ears. It could be my anxiety resurfacing, but I needed to stay to the task at hand. I needed to remove emotion as Andrew would had done, maybe that is why he never mentioned his brother. Maybe that is why Silas was forgotten.

The final bells rang.

The ship floated onto the dark crystal sea.

The sails grew with ferocity, bellowing with a healthy wind mustered by the tidesages.

Sleep would evade me as I admired the last look at the stars that twinkled in the distance.

This was it.

The first step will be hardest.

Light find me.

OOC: So I took a long break. Needed to refresh my mind - I’ve been slowly trying to build and build and build character progression. I’m still new to all of this and I appreciate the people that have been reading the story so far. RP engagements have been evading me as of recently since I just get to caught up in work and life per usual. Hope you all have a wonderful week. Hoping to sit down and get a few entries going for Silas soon.

If you wanna get caught up:

Devotions - Book I

Thank you <3

#OC #mmorpg #World of Warcraft #Wow Rp #WoW RP character blogs #Journal Entry #writing #battle #Boralus #bfa #alliance #WRA RP #Wyrmrest Accord #paladin

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

D&D AU - Elf Kid Adventures, Finale

I’m calling this “Elf Kid Adventures” even tho the only person who is a kid for any amount of time in it is Stan, and it’s for like five minutes, because that’s what I called the previous installments of this story arc, here and here.

Do you want some D&D-themed angst? Here’s some D&D-themed angst! Plus more McGuckets trying to set up the good ship Stangie. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

Stan stood in front of Mrs. McGucket, nervously watching as she set out various spellcasting ingredients. The McGucket parents had finally come up with a way to remove the curse, and Lute had suggested Stan go first. Thankfully, the McGucket parents insisted that the spell be done without Angie or Lute observing, as they might cause distractions. As such, the siblings were inside the house while the spellcasting happened outside. Mr. McGucket squeezed Stan’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, son. Sally’s the best sorceress you’ll ever meet. Even if the curse don’t get removed right, the sit’ation won’t get worse.” Stan nodded.

Dunno how much I believe that. He had never informed the McGucket parents of his orcish heritage, so they were in for a surprise. If the curse reversal worked properly.

“All right, Mearl, get over here,” Mrs. McGucket said. Mr. McGucket smiled reassuringly at Stan, then joined his wife. “Ready, Stanaximus?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Stan said weakly, excitement and dread warring within him. Mrs. McGucket raised her hands. Stan closed his eyes. He let out a gasp at the sensation of being splashed with a bucket of cold water. This was quickly followed by all the growing pains he’d had in puberty, occurring at the same time. He barely subdued the cry of pain at his tusks tearing through his gums.

“Oh, no,” Mrs. McGucket whispered. Stan opened his eyes. The McGucket parents stared at him in horror. Mrs. McGucket covered her mouth, tears sparkling in her silver eyes. “Oh, no!”

“Now, calm down, dear,” Mr. McGucket said quickly. “Stan actually told me not long ago he was the subject of an additional curse, passed down from his father. This is prob’ly the result of that.”

“I don’t-” Stan started. He paused. The distinctive rasp to his voice was back, as was its lower pitch. Wordlessly, Mr. McGucket handed Stan a small mirror. Stan looked at his reflection. A male orc with golden eyes, pale skin, and pointed ears looked back. Weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying lifted from his shoulders.

I’m me again. Stan prodded his tusks, fighting back a smile. Damn, I was dumb to think staying a kid was preferable to this.

“Is Mearl right?” Mrs. McGucket asked. Stan looked up.

“About what?”

“That yer appearance is from the curse ya got from yer father.”

“No,” Stan said. Mrs. McGucket let out a soft gasp.

“I messed up!”

“Should we try to put the curse back on him?” Mr. McGucket asked his wife.

“No, don’t,” Stan said quickly.

“Son, ya look like an orc,” Mr. McGucket said gently. Stan took a deep breath.

It’s okay to tell them the truth. They love you. They even gave permission to court Angie. Not that you needed it.

“That’s because I am,” he confessed. The McGuckets stared at him blankly. “I’m half-elf and half-orc. When I was a kid, I looked like my mom, but when I got older, I looked like my pops.” The confusion on Mr. McGucket’s face warped into rage. He grabbed his nearby staff and pointed it at Stan, the end of the weapon mere inches from Stan’s throat.

“Leave,” he snarled. Stan felt like he was being doused with cold water again.

“What?”

“Get off my property, boy!” Mr. McGucket roared. Stan looked to Mrs. McGucket for help, but she merely continued to stare at him in shock.

“I’m-” Stan tried. Mr. McGucket made a gesture. Thorny vines burst out of the ground, lashing Stan’s ankles. “Ow!”

“You lied to us!” The fatherly twinkle in Mr. McGucket’s eyes was gone. “This whole time, you claimed to be an elf, but you were orc. You pretended to be somethin’ you weren’t.” At the harsh words from the previously gentle and warm Mr. McGucket, something snapped in Stan.

“Fine!” he growled, baring his tusks. Mr. McGucket blanched. Stan felt a twisted satisfaction in causing the man to be visibly unnerved. “You want me to go? I’ll go! After everything you told me, that you never turn down people to help for their race, I expected better from you. But you’re just as bad as all the other elves I’ve met!” Before he could see the effect of his words on the McGuckets, Stan turned on his heel, fleeing into the woods.

-----

Stan slumped against the trunk of a large oak tree, staring up at the small bits of blue sky he could see through the forest’s thick canopy. Desperately, he tried to hold back the tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

You’re not gonna cry. You’re not gonna cry. Sure, the first person who acted like a halfway decent dad to you just chased you away from his home, but- There was a faint rustling. Stan reached for his dagger, only to find nothing there. Shit. I left my weapons at the farm.

“Stan?” a voice said softly. Stan looked over. Angie melted out of the woods; like her father, she blended in with the trees almost perfectly.

“I see you’re back to normal,” Stan grunted. Returned to her proper young adult age, Angie sat next to him. The sunlight trickling through the leaves dappled her hair. “How much of the shitshow did you hear?”

“Not much. But we were watchin’ from a window, so we saw it all,” Angie said.

“We?”

“Lute ‘n I.”

“Great,” Stan muttered. “The guy who hates me most saw your parents kick me off their property.”

“Now, I highly doubt I hate ya more than anyone else in the world might,” Lute said, emerging from the woods to join his sister. He was also back to being a young adult. “What about all the people you’ve robbed?” Stan rolled his eyes. “Anyways, if I hated you, I wouldn’t have stuck up fer ya.” Stan’s head whipped up. “I’m surprised, too.”

“The second we saw things goin’ south, we raced outside, but we were too late,” Angie said. Lute sat next to her. “You were already gone. And Ma ‘n Pa were fit to fry.”

“I shouldn’t have been surprised that they were racist. Elves never treat orcs well,” Stan said. Angie raised an eyebrow. Stan sighed. “Present company excluded.”

“They weren’t upset you were an orc, though they definitely don’t exactly have a good opinion of ‘em,” Angie said. “They were upset you lied to ‘em. Tellin’ the truth is important to ‘em.”

“Then why didn’t you tell them I was an orc the second I started lying?”

“It weren’t my truth to tell,” Angie said with a shrug. “And…” She sighed. “I was worried that yer concern was well-founded, that my folks wouldn’t respond well to the truth.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

“I’m sorry things went down the way they did.”

“You should be,” Stan said shortly. One of Lute’s eyes twitched.

“Maybe in the future, you should also not try to hide somethin’ this big from allies,” he retorted. Stan opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t find fault in what Lute had said.

“…Fair,” he muttered. Angie put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are ya ready to come back to the farm?” she asked. Stan shook his head. “All right.” Angie leaned against him. Stan’s heart began to race. “I’ll wait with ya until you are.”

-----

Stan pulled the drawstrings of his pack tight. The bag was fit to burst, filled with enough provisions to last them the trip back three times over. Angie and Lute had already left the kitchen, apparently because they knew the trick to packing all the food their parents insisted they take. Mrs. McGucket, hovering nearby, swooped in.

“I do want to apologize again for our reaction to your adult form,” she said softly, resting a hand on Stan’s shoulder. Stan shrugged his pack on.

“C’mon, Mrs. McGucket. You’ve apologized a million times. Where’s that sun elf dignity?” he teased. Mrs. McGucket smiled. After Stan had come back with Angie and Lute, the McGucket parents practically fell over themselves in apologizing. Stan didn’t feel as positively about them as he had before the curse was removed, but he also didn’t feel as negatively as he had when they chased him off the farmstead. He could hear his mom’s voice in the back of his head.

“There will be a lot of people who have a negative reaction when they first meet you. If they don’t move on from it, by all means, hold it against them. But if they try to grow as people, if they work to know you as the wonderful young man you are, let them. Learning to be a better person is, I think, more important than being born one.”

“I was never one to follow the sun elf ideals,” Mrs. McGucket said. Stan nodded.

“You’d get along with my mom,” he said. Mrs. McGucket’s smile broadened.

“From what you have told me, I agree,” she replied. Stan picked an apple off the kitchen table. “Maybe I’ll have a chance to meet her at the wedding.” The apple slipped out of Stan’s hand.

“What?” he asked. Mrs. McGucket sighed.

“Mearl said he passed along that you have our blessing to court Angie.”

“Well, yeah, but that was before you guys found out I was half-orc.” Stan stared at her. “You don’t have a problem with that?” Mrs. McGucket shook her head. “Really? No concerns about potential future grandchildren having orcish blood?”

“Look, once Lute stood up for you, Mearl and I knew we had made a horrible mistake,” Mrs. McGucket said softly. “For him to tell us we were wrong, after what he went through during ranger training…” Mrs. McGucket trailed off. Stan didn’t know the details, but apparently, Lute had some sort of traumatic experience involving orcs while training to be a ranger. Angie claimed that was the reason Lute had hated Stan on sight.

“Yeah, I was pretty surprised by that, too.”

“You’re a good man, Stanaximus, half-orc or not. We’d be honored to have you join our family.” Mrs. McGucket took a hold of his hand. “Don’t be afraid to try.”

Why do they keep pushing this? I mean, yeah, I’d be an idiot to not make a move. But they won’t stop telling me that!

“Why won’t you and Mr. McGucket let this drop?”

“Because I almost didn’t act on my feelings for Mearl.”

“You didn’t? With how you and Mearl talk about it, you abandoned your whole life on a whim.”

“It felt like that, yes,” Mrs. McGucket said with a sigh. “But in reality, I nearly lost my nerve. It’s a big decision, leaving your family and everything you know.”

“Yeah…” Stan said quietly, thinking of the day he left home. Mrs. McGucket smiled ruefully.

“Yes, I thought you would understand.” Stan nodded. “But I did leave my home for Mearl, and I’ve never felt that was a mistake, not even for a moment. Don’t allow yourself to have regrets in love, Stanaximus.” To Stan’s shock, Mrs. McGucket embraced him. “Best of luck on your journey,” she said in Elvish. Recognizing the traditional farewell, Stan completed it.

“And best of joy while you stay,” he replied in Elvish. Mrs. McGucket squeezed him as tightly as she could, which wasn’t much, given her sylph-like figure and how bulky Stan was. She let him go. Stan picked up the apple he’d dropped and exited the farmhouse.

“It’s ‘bout time!” a voice said. Stan turned. Angie stood up from the stump she’d been sitting on. “Ya took so long that Lute went ahead.”

“Really?” Stan asked, pocketing his apple.

“Yeah.” Angie cocked her head, a ghost of a grin on her lips. “But I knew you’d be hopelessly lost without a guide, so I stuck ‘round.”

“I’d figure it out eventually,” Stan said dismissively. “I definitely have enough food to last me for however long it’d take to find my way back.” Angie laughed. Stan’s heart melted at the sound.

“Yeah, Ma ‘n Pa go a bit nuts makin’ sure we’ve got supplies. Now, c’mon, we can make it back ‘fore night falls, but only if we get goin’ now.”

“All right, all right.” Stan walked over. The two headed into the forest. “So, Lute’s really not gonna be going back with us?”

“Nope! Like I said, he went ahead. My guess? He’s been so nice to you lately that he wants some time apart. Can’t lose that important tough-guy image or whatever,” Angie said. Stan snorted. “It’s just us.”

“Good,” Stan said. Angie eyed him.

“Why?” she asked warily. Stan noticed, to his disgust, that his palms were sweaty.

Really? Still? I thought I left that behind when I stopped being a kid. Well, whatever. At least I’m not a mess of anxiety and hormones anymore. Stan grinned at Angie.

“I’ve got a question to ask you.”

#I've been going through my Word docs for Stanuary inspiration and have been finding some unfinished scenes #this is one. I have another I wanna finish and post soon #and THEN I'll get my ass in gear for Stanuary I guess lmao #DnD AU #Stanley Pines #Pa McGucket #Ma McGucket #Angie McGucket #Lute McGucket #McGucket Family #Stangie #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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