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whoviancumberbunny · 1 year

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Part Three: No Room For Fear

Vox Machina characters Created by Critical Role

Dark Tower created By Stephen King [Funerary Prayer]

Annie and Declan, Serendipity Johns and Galen Allgood created by Melissa C. Scraper @whoviancumberbunny

Title from Title Prompts by @youneedsomeprompts

Used This Prompt and this one by @seaside-writings

Part One: Stand and Be True

Part Two: Ne’er-Do-Wells and Insufferable Bastards

They were on the edge of the village that Chroma Conclave had taken over and, Roland joined them, as Tet-Fa [Friend of the group]. It was clear to him and that both Annie and Percy were the Dinhs, as they sat around come up with a plan he pulls her to the side and put the Horn of Eld in her hand “Da, Gan gave this to you.”

He looked at her trying to hide the fact that in the short few weeks he had been In the life of his daughter he had seen that she was a Gunslinger. Never mind that to parts of the world she is a thief. “May Luck Rise to meet us all.” He looked at her “Don’t be like me my child. I have spent my whole life not listening to those around me.” He had seen three figures of young adults hiding on the other side of town. Time would tell if these people were good or not, they would be people Annie knew well.

Percy looked at her, the Horn of Eld, like so many other things he had believed that was only legend. Like the vestments, he blushed as Annie looked at him. Maybe it was just that he felt he was undeserving of love , then of course that was also because the demon might kill those around him. Last time she had managed to stop him before he had killed an innocent person “Darling, you should just tell her.” Vex said breaking his concentration “Everyone can see it. Even her father sees.”

“Oh Dawn Father, I am not sure what to do with my heartbox,” he hadn’t realized he had started peppering his speaking with the high speech she had been teaching him.

“All I am saying is let me be annoying?” Scanlan said

Pike “No these are dangerous dragons.”

After Coming up with a battle plan, they study the area a short time later as Vox fights off the dragon “Great work, asshole; I hope they eat you first!” Vax said as he and Scanlan dodge flames and deadly acid

On the other side of the town Female figure staring at one of the two male figures. “It doesn’t matter if we kill it; it will just keep coming back,” she nearly pushed him off the cliff “Sorry, Galen.” She grabs his hand

Male figure you would assume is a ranger by his bow and arrow “And so will we,” he takes out an arrow his father killed dragon with “we wait for a signal and we join In the fight.”

Galen “But Peter, we don’t know what kind of signal to pay attention for. Shaun Gilmore only told us to Meet Annie here because she would need help saving Declan and several other people.” Galen Allgood, and his cousin Serendipity Johns part of the last generation of Gunslingers of Gilead.

Peter, who is friends with Annie because she saved his life because warriors of the red had tried to kill him in his sleep just after he escaped from prison “I wouldn’t be known as Good King Peter, if she hadn’t helped me last year.” Peter, Age 18 years, framed for the murder of his Father and served three years in prison. Tall and slender if he hadn’t been king he likely would have been gunslinger.

“If we get out of this alive you need to tell Declan you love him, Galen.”

“No, he probably doesn’t see me that way.”

Peter raises his hand to quiet them as they hear a sound that was unfamiliar yet felt like call to arms, Annie had blown the Horn of Eld. “Here we go.”

On the battlefield, The members of Vox machina had never heard the sound before but something about sound the horn of eld made them focus and become more coordinated.

Annie “Percy! Canda!”

Percy looks at everyone “Spread out!” Suddenly an arrow shoots past them into the heart of the dragon “Where did that come from?”

Annie “Foehammer? Good King Peter how did you know we’d need back up?”

“Will explain that later Lady Annie.” The man said as absent mindedly ran his finger along the scar on his cheek.

“Scanlan, we need you to be annoying so we can untie the prisoners.” Annie said

Percy shot a few low level dragons “They are not attacking Annie .”

Thordak “The Female gunslinger who came with Vox Machina smells of the Queen of the Great Worms.”

“I am getting tired of monsters saying I smell like Lady Dragon. Your Minions took my brother so I am here to rescue him and the others.” She said as her eyes briefly the color of her spirit guide.

“The human with the soul of a dragon. We didn’t think she existed.” The chroma conclave stops in their tracks

“I don’t want to kill you. I just want my brother. Leave!”

After the smoke clears “We found this In the dragon’s cave, Milady. We think it belongs to you.”

Roland “Crown of Eld.”

“I am no ruler. I am a Gunslinger. Thankee for returning this to my family.” Annie replied

Later at the Keep “Percy, you asked about the gem embedded in the grip of my gun.” She said after Declan retrieves his own gun “Our grandfather, Steven gave us each one of these just before he was killed. Mother kept them safe for us and she gave them to use just before her own death.”

Declan looks Percy up and down, “He’s kind of skinny.”

“So are you brother.” They hug each other “you are just jealous I have boyfriend first.” She blushes “everyone this tall dork here is my twin brothers Declan. That idiot over there is our best friend, Galen Allgood and his cousin Serendipity Johns. This is King Peter of Delain.”

“Before you ask, I am not ranger. My father taught me to hunt from a young age. This arrow, foe hammer was used to kill a dragon with nine cambered and I was conceived after my father killed the dragon.” Peter explained as he cleaned foe hammer. He goes over to Annie “You left this in Delain.” Hands her medallion engraved with the crest of the Delain, a unicorn slaying a dragon with its horn.

“I told you I didn’t do it for recognition. I did it because Ka willed it.” She takes the crest, she really didn’t want to be seen as champion of Delain. She sticks it in her bag. It wasn’t humility, everything she did she did because it felt right.

“Wait….you just said I am your boyfriend.” Percy said as he walked over to Declan and Annie, Annie blushed “I admit to having feelings….of love but I worry my darkness will hurt you.”

Annie places her hand on his cheek “Percival De Rolo. Stop being a twat. I can tell you want to keep from hurting me but you know almost everything about me and now you have met my family and best friends. If you want I can have Declan punch you in the face.” She grinned

He kisses her gently on the lips “Why didn’t Croma Conclave attack you?”

“Lady Dragon, she is their queen. They called me the human with the soul of a dragon.” Annie said

King peter “You all have an invitation to the reaping festival in Delain.” He grinned “Lady annie matched me In the reaping festival archery contest. I happen to think she lost on purpose.”

“That may be true, friend. But Declan did the same thing. Neither one of use wanted to be better than you. We were just keeping our skills sharp.”

“I knew that when I saw that his arrow went through the heart of the skinwalker that jumped us last year.” They sit around telling stories

“Galen screamed louder than we did.”

“No I didn’t.”

When Annie gets up to stretch her legs, Percy follows her “Does Galen have romantic feelings for your brother?”

“they are both really bad at pretending it. I knew if he was told Declan was in danger he would come. I just Didn’t think peter would leave Delain. He’s been working hard to regain the trust of his village since Walter O’Dim , framed him for murder and used his brother, Thomas as puppet ruler to tax people of Delain .”

“I wondered why you never mentioned courting anyone. It is because the only men in your life are people you know wouldn’t betray you. I promise you I will do my best to be worthy of the trust you give me. What is a skin walker, again?”

“in this region they are called lycanthropes. They tear the host apart from the inside.” She shivered “I didn’t sleep for three days after we fought the skinwalkers.” She rested her head against his chest “For most of our lives Declan and I have needed to be strong for ourselves. It is not easy for us to let our defenses down.” She places her hand on his chest “Your heart and your mind don’t need to be two different things Percival.” When he gently takes her hand in a single move he puts ring he made for her on her finger

“It is a promise. That when the time is right I will ask you to be my wife. The time is not now.” She looks at it and it has the crest of his family on it “I added the seal of eld to it too. I want to follow the way of the beam with you. If you will let me Annie.”

“It brought me to you, until you are rid of your darkness you can’t handle the Dark Tower.| she stopped just before saying, on her previous time loop only she and Roland had survived Can Ka-No Rey, in the previous time loops she ahd needed to call out the names of all the people sitting around the fire “She and read the funeral rites 13 times before reaching the tower. She’d be damned if she had to watch them all fall to the Crimson King again “the other involved were still on keystone earth living their lives mostly unaware of what had already happened save for one, the son of the demon king, her friend Magnus. Why had gan given only her Annie her memories back, at least she assumed she was the only one who could remember bit and pieces of the four previous time loops. The third time loops she was married to king peter and that was all she could remember. It couldn’t happen again and she’d be damned if she let vox machina die to ensure that the tower would remain standing “What is Can Ka-No Rey?” she finally heard percy asking

“It is the field of roses around the dark tower. They have razor sharp thorns they beckon to be picked but they kill whomever touches them.” She looked at him “Why?”

“When you fainted after we met your father. You were muttering about it and calling out my name in your sleep?”

“Let’s go for a walk.” as they walk “Remember I told you my father is in a time loop my existence created separate time loops and as far I can recall they have converged at least four times already. You asked me why I wrote down your name.” she looks down “In the previous time line when I had to call out the names of everyone I lost. I couldn’t remember yours. It is the reason why you canlt remember we have met before. When gunslinger reaches the top of the tower time resets. But Gan resets it to different point In the time and places everyone in different places.”

They nearly jump when they hear Roland’s voice “My journey was my choice and it has always been, Anastasia. I can see your friends would follow you to end world and back. You have allowed yourself the thing it took me centuries to allow myself, to let people help me. You on the other hand let people help you all the time. I remember that day too. You couldnlt remember percy’s name at the the base of the tower and that’s what broke your spirit.”

Another When at the base of the Dark Tower, as the menacing eyes of Crimson king stare them down “I am Anastasia Gabrielle Jenna Delgado Deschain De Rolo, I offer you the names of the fallen as entry.

Declan Alaric William Delgado Deschain, My brother and fellow Gunslinger, Serendipity Johns, Gunslinger, Galen Allgood, Jenna of Eluria, Susan DelGado, ……

“Damn it why did his name have to be so long.” She fell to her knees looked into Can Ka-No Rey. He had came this for with her and for her and she couldn’t present his name to the tower. “Percy forgive me. I never wanted you to be lost in the void. She could hear the death nill coming from “I wasn’t strong enough to not lose anyone this time.

Present day “Forgive me. As soon as Da appeared in the cave it…. the end of the previous timeline came flooding back to me. I realized I was leading everyone to possible death again. Forgive me.” She felt her leg buckle but Percy caught her

“We are not in the todash space anymore. Look at me, your father is right his path is not your path. Gods know why you even thought his journey was your responsibility.” He takes a handkerchief out his pocket gently wipes away her tears “You saved me. Let me protect you.” She rested her head on his shoulder, as he scoops her up to carry her over to the fire “If she didnlt call out my name how am I here.”

Roland “I did. I couldn’t let you lose her how I keep loosing her mother.”

Another when as his daughter sat collapsed feelings emotionally defeated he repeaeated the name she had listed along with the names of his friends and finally “Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III!” as the door swung open “Anastasia you can come with me if you want.”

“No Da. Not this time I going to give them the death rites.” It would take her three days to bury everyone. “Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer.

Birth is nothing but Death begun, so hear my prayer.

Death is speechless, so hear my speech.

This is my friend, who served his ka and his tet. Say true.

May the forgiving glance of S'Mana heal his heart. Say please.

May the arms of Gan raise him from the darkness of this earth. Say please.

Surround him, Gan, with light.

Fill him, Chloe, with strength.

If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.

If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.

May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight;

Let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let everyone whose name he calls call his in return.

This is my friend, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.

Each man owes Death. This is my friend. Give him peace.” She placed his pepperbox on his grave “If ka wills it we will meet again Percival.”

Present day…. “Thank You, Roland. May Gan always hold you in his favor.”

“We are well met Percy De Rolo III. This is your path. You are meant for better things than I ever was, Lady De Rolo.”

“He was having conversation with Lady Dragon.” She said as they sat down and her father continued his journey alone

To Be Continued

Wednesday, February 1st. 2023

#gunslingers au #dark tower au #percy x oc #legend of vox machina #Vox machina au

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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afterdeath | lucas

title: afterdeath pairing: vampire!lucas x fairy!reader genre: angst, forbidden romance, fantasy, vampire!au request: May I request a Vampire!Lucas with a fairy!s/o (Forbidden romance perhaps?) word count: 8.6k warnings: descriptions of death and sickness, mentions of a funeral, viewing, and funerary preparations, major character death (but...with a slight twist), mentions of blood and drinking blood, smoking cigarettes, arguments/conflict, mentions of physical violence, some romeo and juliet elements? a/n: hmm this fic probably could’ve been more detailed but i was trying to avoid triggering my own damn self with so much talk of death...ha...not sure why i went this route but i wanted a forbidden romance with an actual decent ending for both characters and this was the first idea i had recommended songs: OLLA - jhené aiko

Year 1508

“We’ve felled the demon!”

“Indeed, we have!”

Cheers ring through the dawn as a large group of fairies dance around an immense bonfire, raising their shouts of celebration to the sky. Within the fire burns the body of the Primitiva Vampire, the One and Only Pureblood, haphazardly thrown over the wood pile and relieved of her head—which sits near the bottom of the burning mass of wood, her face still twisted in a mien of anger.

As the sky begins turning lighter with the onset of sunrise, the fairies continue their celebration, staying close to the fire all the while. They carry large flaming torches to guard against any of the Primitiva Vampire’s followers who might try to sneak upon them and strike in that sliver of space where the sun has yet to rise.

The Primitiva Vampire had a long reign of terrorizing fairies and turning humans and other supernatural creatures into vampires. Each transformed being became a terrible revenant, one which viciously hunted villages and stole into people’s homes for more blood, more death, and more unwilling adherents to the vampiric cult.

Mass numbers of fairies had been decimated once the vampires first tasted their blood and took a unique liking to it. For over 200 years, the carnage continued on at the hand of the Primitiva Vampire, who had one day blinked into existence in a way that could never really be explained by any conceivable means, either human or magic. And without ever giving a hint to her strange conception, she tore across cities and towns, converting others into night creatures like herself and building a loyal following of half-bedeviled beings.

When fairy populations had dwindled to nearly extinction-level quantities, they were left no other choice—fight back or be wiped completely from the universe’s ledger. So they took up arms, honed their magic skills, and did just that.

And now, all their efforts culminate in this blood-stained morning. It marks a much-anticipated moment of revelry before they have to return to their posts to watch for the night creatures inevitably waiting on the other side of the sunset, ready to avenge their slain Goddess.

Present Day

“You probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to come,” Lucas replies, taking your hand is his large one. “I wanted to see you.”

“I can figure that.” You laugh quietly, a little afraid to let your voice rise higher in case it carries too far. “But that doesn’t mean you should’ve come.”

Lucas holds your hand tightly. His skin is cold against yours due to his slow blood, and colder still from the chill permeating the air. It’s only one of many vampiric traits that the other fairies would think of as strange or barbaric, but you don’t see it that way. The chilliness just reminds you solely of him.

“Well, I missed you. And I’m here now, so you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The building you’re standing behind is damp, old, and dilapidated, and it’s not even one of your pre-designated meeting places. In front of you is a rusted chain link fence, which barricades a field of tall and unkempt grass. More aged and crumbling buildings scatter themselves across the distance, taken over by grass and climbing vines.

You don’t know what’s out here. This is one place within your district you haven’t been to before. It was Lucas’s idea to come here, after your last meeting place had nearly been discovered and he found it too risky to keep going there.

The entire city of Beijing is split up into different districts, each belonging to a different faction of supernatural beings. Some nonhuman races have close ties with each other and allow frequent cross-district mingling; others are sworn enemies, forbidden to fraternize with each other under pain of death. In these latter cases, crossing into another’s territory without express permission—or in rare situations, ties to a powerful ally (or allies) on the other side—is asking to get arrested, injured, or worse.

Lucas would be your tie to the vampire side and you his tie to the fairy side if your species weren’t centuries-long enemies. Instead, you’re relegated to having him sneak in and out of your district and hide what he is with blood-scent blockers and eye contacts to make the trickery easier to get away with. There’s only so much you can do to disguise your fae nature; stepping into vampire territory would turn you into a shining beacon.

“Hmm…” you sigh, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. You grasp Lucas’s hand so you’re now holding it with both of yours. “How long do you think we can keep this up? Going from place to place like this. Hiding like criminals.”

Lucas gives a lopsided grin—one that cannot morph into a full smile because of the sadness coloring it. “I don’t know. Forever, if we’re lucky.” He chuckles.

You stare at your intertwined hands, unaware of the sheer intensity of the longing expression on your face, though Lucas sees it clearly. It threatens to burn his heart to ash. “Unfortunately, fae don’t live forever like you do, so maybe not. Besides, your people would probably find out and come after me before we could even settle into a ‘forever.’”

He shakes his head fretfully at your words, squeezing your hand. “Do we have to talk about all that now? You know we don’t have much time together. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.” Lucas pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“That’s fine by me,” you say, and resist the urge to make some dark joke about how scandalous it is for a fairy to have their neck so close to a vampire’s mouth—or a vampire’s anything.

You both stay together in that dingy and old spot for a while, talking in the dark until he tells you he has to go. He follows you the whole way back home to ensure you’re safe, keeping to the shadows until he sees you disappear past your front door. Then, he slips away again to head back to the familiar manor in his own district.

It’s nearly morning when Lucas gets back to the large house he shares with the other six men. By this time of day, he knows they will either be in bed or getting ready to turn in.

“Still visiting that fairy, I see.”

The unexpected voice doesn’t scare Lucas, but it does make his body tense up a bit in irritation and a slight sense of anticipation. He sighs and stops in his tracks on the way to his room, though he doesn’t face the clan leader just yet.

“Is that a problem? Because you know I’m not going to stop.”

Kun makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course it is. You know what the consequences are if anyone outside of us finds out.” Lucas turns to him slightly, and the look on Kun’s face is more disappointment—maybe even slight fear?—than anger. “I clearly can’t stop you from doing what you want to, but I can’t help you if the Association gets involved.”

Lucas rocks back on his heels and sighs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the vampire organization. “Fuck the Association. They’re nothing but a bunch of old ass hags who have no purpose in their lives other than ruling over every other vampire in the world.”

Kun looks weary at his words. “You really don’t care, do you, Xuxi. They’d have your heart on a stake if they ever heard that.” He pauses and rolls his eyes. “They’re also not that much older than me, so I wonder who you’re calling an ‘old ass hag’...”

“Isn’t it a good thing that they won’t hear it, then?” Lucas laughs, but it’s not an entirely humorous sound, and he gives Kun a searching look as his chuckles die off.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no interest in telling them anything, mostly because I also have no interest in our whole clan being wiped out.”

Lucas nods, reaffirming his somewhat shaky but still present trust in Kun, needing the regular reassurances for his own calm. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a few steps like he’ll go to his room, though he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “Just don’t see what the big deal about all this is. All this over some ancient bloodsucker who died like 500 years ago...who cares.”

Kun winces again, though he doesn’t bother with reprimanding Lucas this time; he only shakes his head and sighs heavily like it’s already a lost cause. “A vampire and a fairy together is more than blasphemy—it’s ridiculous. It’s illogical. They all think we’re bloodsucking demons hellbent on killing them.”

“To be fair, there’s definitely a sect of vampire zealots or two who are trying to do exactly that despite the laws.”

Kun sighs. Lucas is right; what can he say to argue that? “Xuxi…”

“I’m telling you I’ll be fine, Kun-ge. You don’t need to worry about me and Y/N. Things have been going fine for this long.” Lucas nods, then heads off to his room for real this time. Kun watches him leave, feeling a lot less reassured than the younger man.

Ten takes Xiaojun and Lucas on one of their weekly outings to a blood lounge. Blood lounges are an easy and accessible way for vampires to get blood, though the legalities of this practice are a little muddy. Before getting with you, Lucas didn’t mind drinking straight from the source—going to one of the back rooms and sucking some willing, vulnerable being just to the point of death—but now, it feels like a type of transgression. Drinking someone else’s blood can be an intensely intimate act, on the same level as sex depending on the context, and he doesn’t want to do anything to make you think he’d be unfaithful.

To his fortune, there is no club rule about having to feed off other beings; many vampires take their blood in fancy champagne glasses, just like drinks in a human club. He does that now as the three men sit in a darkly lit booth.

Their conversation is unexciting for a while, with Lucas keeping careful not to mention you or any of his recent visits to your district to avoid any prying ears in the lounge. However, things soon get interesting. “We all know how Renjun got taken off the Association’s Registry a year ago, right?” Ten asks suddenly.

“Yes, of course.” Xiaojun answers like he’s already bored of this turn in the conversation. “That’s what happens whenever a vampire dies.”

Ten nods, but his eyes are wide like he has a secret he’s itching to tell. “But I don’t think he actually died.”

Lucas’s ears perk up at that.

“Why?” Xiaojun asks.

“He was seeing that human before he supposedly died, you know—”

“The one who lost it and drove the stake in his heart? We all know how it happened—”

“Can you let me finish? Anyway, I’ve heard some...suggestions that he faked his death—that maybe he got a magic user to set the whole crime scene up and make it look like it was real. Illusory magic, or something like that.”

Xiaojun sits forward. “A magic user. As in a fairy? Or a witch? Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone who uses magic. People are starting to think he and the human faked it all and ran away to Tianjin. I heard someone even claimed they saw somebody who resembled him when they went to Tianjin recently, though I don’t know how true that is…”

Xiaojun’s interest is thoroughly engaged now. “Think the Association will go looking for him, if it's true?”

“I don’t know if they’d care enough to hunt down an unregistered vampire who’s laying low and not creating chaos with other citizens. We all know Tianjin is way more relaxed about inter-species relationships, too. But the Association doesn’t like looking stupid. And that kind of trick definitely makes them look stupid.”

Lucas sits back, taking all of this information in. He is uncharacteristically quiet, but he doesn’t know what to make of that situation or why Ten is telling them about it. He thinks he can guess why, though, by the way Ten’s gaze lingers on him, and that scares him a little. The way this rumor piques a forbidden interest in him scares him. Lucas lifts the glass of blood to his lips and drinks from it, trying to distract himself from the current conversation.

“All this for a damn human. Only an idiot would try something like that,” Xiaojun says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a smart one. It did get him off the Registry.”

“How can you be a smart idiot?!” Ten and Xiaojun start arguing over the semantics of the term, and Lucas watches them in amusement, though his mind remains in two different places for the rest of their time in the blood lounge.

—

Later that night when they are back at the manor, Lucas pulls Ten aside, just like the older man expected him to.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asks, though his expression shows he already knows exactly what’s the matter.

“You...the stuff you said about Renjun earlier. I…” Lucas doesn’t know how to start or break his idea to him softly, so he decides to just say it. “Is it really possible?”

“I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get off the Registry…though many other attempts were way less successful.” Then Ten hesitates before saying, “You could try it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” Ten’s expression softens a little. “I know you and Y/N love each other a lot, but there’s no way the Association will ever let you stay together if they find out. Y/N’s life could actually be in danger. Both of you are, every moment you spend together while living in these districts. If you really want to stay with Y/N, then…”

“...But I wouldn’t be able to see any of you again.” You and Lucas have become so entwined with one another that he can hardly imagine a life without you, but he also finds it difficult to picture his existence without his brothers. They’ve become like blood family to him over the last couple centuries.

“Yeah.” Ten sighs deeply, and although his reply is short, Lucas knows that one word is carrying the weight of all of his stress and sorrow about the idea. “Maybe we could find a way to visit you sometimes. Get the fairies or witches to do some of their magicky shit.” Ten laughs quietly. “But...it’s still just an idea. You don’t have to do it.”

Lucas shakes his head slowly. He wants to put the idea to bed and try to continue on with his life, managing his clandestine visits to your district when he can. But now that he knows of an alternative way, no matter how unreasonable or unbelievable it is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget about it. “Kun-ge is going to kill you once he finds out this was your suggestion. You know that, right?”

Ten shrugs, and the sadness lifts momentarily in the curve of his lips. “He can try.”

The next time you and Lucas meet up, it’s in yet another different place under an ancient and mostly abandoned bridge. As a precaution, you stand together underneath the darkness of the bridge and stay out of sight, though there are few chances of anyone being around to see you in the first place.

He has to muster up the courage to tell you of his idea, unsure of how you’ll react or what you’ll think of it. It’s a lot to ask of you. Your kinships and friendships are not as extensive as his, only having a brother and two cousins left in the world, but he doesn’t know if he could ever ask you to leave them behind like this. Or if he could shake off the guilt that would remain from it.

“There might be a way for us to change things…” Lucas starts, skipping the build-up because he knows it would take him forever to think of something appropriate to say. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Change things?” You glance at him curiously. You wish you could see the deep red of his irises, but they are hidden behind his brown contacts. “As in, with us?”

“Yes. So that maybe we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. Or at least...not sneak around as much as we do now.”

“What is it?” you ask. Despite yourself, your wings flutter against your back as wonder and excitement rise in your chest. You and Lucas have waxed poetic many times before about how you wish things could be different; and neither of you have ever been able to come up with a workable plan. But now, his claim that maybe something is possible has you dangerously curious.

“Taking myself off the Registry. I could basically just...disappear. The Association can’t harm what technically no longer exists.”

You stare at him in confusion. “But you can’t do that, right? Only under special circumstances…”

Lucas sees the question in your eyes and nods. “Right. Like if I die…” You flinch, shaking your head immediately. “...or pretend I’ve died.” This makes you pause, not expecting to hear something like that come from him.

“Pretend...you’ve died. Faking your own death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but...there’s another vampire who we think has done it before. And...it worked. Supposedly.”

You shake your head again, but you turn the idea over in your mind. “How would you even do that? Someone would have to know you’re not really dead. That can’t be as easy as it sounds...”

Lucas swallows hard. “I know, it doesn’t, but maybe if we plan it right...I think we could pull this off. Some of the others...already know about it.” Only Ten, really, but that’ll inevitably change soon.

Your heart is hammering in your chest just thinking about this plan—the small, undefined plan that it is—and you’re unsure how to approach it. “If we leave under those circumstances, we can’t come back here to Beijing. Which means we won’t see anyone else again, our families and friends...”

“You understand that.” Lucas’s voice comes out strained.

You sigh, wringing your hands. “I do.”

Lucas hangs his head, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s too much to ask of you. We can just forget about this, really. I know sneaking around has been difficult, and I just—”

“I never said I wouldn’t agree to it,” you say softly, interrupting him before he can begin deriding himself about the idea.

Lucas’s head perks up again, and you both look at each other for a long moment. A cold night breeze flows through your clothes and rustles your wings, which remain tucked close against your back.

“Just think of it as leaving the nest, I guess,” you say, though there are tears welling in your eyes. “Growing up and making a life for ourselves. We can do that...right?”

Lucas bites his lip and closes his eyelids to stave off the tears trying to form in his own eyes. “Yeah. We can do that. Even if it’s a bit...unconventional.”

You nod hurriedly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands before any more tears can make their way out. “If you really want to do this, then we need to visit my brother.”

—

Your brother is predictably not thrilled about the idea. He likes Lucas well enough, but he’s never been very good at hiding his skepticism about your relationship. Though he would never say this to you directly, he never expected your relationship to make it past a few months; and yet it’s been a year and a half since you and Lucas started seeing each other. Maybe he’d be glad about your relationship’s stability if your partner was anyone other than a vampire. Alas, he instead spends all his time stressing over whether either of you will be found out at any moment’s notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” your brother says as he sits down at his desk within his apothecary office. He shakes his head the entire time, but he rifles through his collection of books on magic anyway. If there is anyone who knows a potion or spell that could work for this scheme and would actually be willing to keep it all secret, it’s your brother.

“I know that, Aldriel.” You cross your arms, sighing impatiently at your brother’s continuous reprimands since you’ve stepped through his door. “That’s why we came to you. You’re one of the best magic wielders and potionists around.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. No need to blow smoke up my ass,” Aldriel replies, never one to let a moment to brag slip away. He continues flipping through his book fast enough to make the words on the pages blur, his brow creased with focus. He is paying attention to the words and pictures on the pages, though you also know him well enough to realize this is him trying to distract himself from the many thoughts that must be crowding his brain.

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say, trying to speak against the lump that’s suddenly forming in your throat. “You’ve always complained about wanting me out of your hair, anyway.”

Aldriel pauses in flipping through his spell book to look directly at you now, his brows creased even further and his face creating a visage of bitter desperation. “Not like this.”

Sighing, you turn away from him and let him go back to his textbook, knowing you’d probably start to cry if you look at him any longer. And who knows what will happen once that begins.

You go back to Lucas, who is sitting in the other room with his face turned to the window. It is nighttime and the blinds are closed, so you know he’s not looking at anything in particular. His mind must be similarly preoccupied.

“You okay?” you ask, touching his arm.

“Fine,” he answers, though he doesn’t turn to you. He just grasps your hand where it slides down to his own, gripping your fingers tightly. “As fine as I can be in this situation, I guess.”

You sit down in front of Lucas on the floor’s intricately decorated rug, resting your head against his knee. “It’ll be okay.” You aren’t sure of the words when they leave your lips, but you have to believe in them or else all will be lost.

—

You both spend a few hours at Aldriel’s place. At one point, you try to prod Lucas into going back to his clan to avoid raising suspicions for being gone too long—you can just get the potion to him some other day—but he insists it’ll be easier for him to stay and receive the potion now.

Finally, in the hour before dawn, your brother’s door opens and he steps through. “It’s ready.”

Both you and Lucas come alert at that, and you step back into Aldriel’s apothecary to see what he’s developed.

“This is an advanced death glamor potion,” your brother says, holding up a small glass bottle. “It contains a magic incantation that will leave you dead for a week and only a week. Seven days. Your body will remain in perfect stasis, so there’s no risk of the regular side effects that come with death.”

“A week?” you repeat, nervousness coursing through your body. Lucas looks equally apprehensive, and he squeezes your hand tighter.

Aldriel nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “That should be enough time to take care of the funeral arrangements and make everyone else think you’ve passed.” He says the last bit while gesturing to Lucas. “I’m not super clear on how vampire funerary customs work, though, so—”

Lucas nods. “No, it’ll work. That’s enough time.”

Your brother’s mouth creases into a thin line. “Good.” He passes the vial to Lucas, makes an expression like he might say something else, and then shakes his head, glancing to you instead. “You plan to go to Tianjin, right?”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“You’ll need to find a place to stay, then, until you can get one of your own. And I think we both know exactly where that will be.”

The potion works just as Aldriel said it would. It’s hard to know whether to be dismayed or relieved about this, though the former emotion quickly wins out with everyone.

Lucas takes it a week after meeting with your brother and procuring all the necessary fake documents, claiming it’s best not to wait any longer for it. You feel apprehensive about doing it so soon; or maybe you just want to stall for a little while longer. By now the other five men in his clan all know, each with varying reactions to it but ultimately unable to do anything to change his mind—not even Kun.

On the night Lucas uses the potion, Kun makes one last ditch attempt at reasoning.

“You don’t need to go to this extreme,” the older man insists. Though his voice is cold and sharp and deceptively calm, his entire face is a picture of perfect anger. Everyone had already had their turns talking to Lucas alone and telling him what they needed him to hear—and now it’s just Kun left.

“It’s my decision,” Lucas says, keeping his voice steadier than he feels. “I want to be with Y/N. There is no other way.”

“You’re endangering the entire clan with this. You’d throw us all away for one person?” Kun’s eyes are red-rimmed, but not just from the rage; Lucas knows he’s been crying. Lucas shuts his own eyes, his forehead creasing as he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lucas shakes his head, knowing he is treading on very dangerous waters with what he’s about to say. As if the situation weren’t already contentious enough. “You closed yourself off to love a long time ago. After Jingyi died. You just wouldn’t know.”

The vivid red hue of anger bleeds into Kun’s irises at the mention of his late human lover, and he has to make a very concentrated effort not to reach for the younger’s neck. “How dare you speak of her.”

Lucas opens his eyes again and looks directly at his elder now. “You’ve let the Association run your life too much,” he says, though the words come out sounding a bit defeated. He’s not even sure why he invokes Kun’s lover now; maybe he is trying to make the split easier by provoking the other man into hating him. “You’ve let them beat it into you that love is not worth trying for. What did you gain from that, in the end? But more loneliness.”

Lucas gets the breath knocked from him when Kun slams him up against the wall, and the unpleasant sound of wood splintering strikes against his eardrums. A long vertical crack forms in the wood behind Lucas, but not wide enough to make the wall separate completely. Not using his full strength, then, Lucas thinks to himself.

Kun looks for all the world like he might kill Lucas then and there without the younger man ever needing to take a potion—just bite his heart right out. He crumples Lucas’s shirt in his hands, fisting the fabric tightly enough to create small rips in it. His irises are the color of newly spilled arterial blood, and alongside the red rimming of his eyes from his earlier crying, it makes for an agonizing sight—one that sears itself into the back of Lucas’s mind. It’s made even worse by the new tears spilling down the older man’s face.

He chokes out through the tears, “You cannot do this. I raised you. You would have me destroyed twice?”

Lucas wishes he could shut every one of his senses off right now, but he can only manage to shut his eyes, once again, against the pain in the other man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Kun-ge.”

—

After that, Lucas goes back to his own room and sits on the bed for a long time, replaying the events in his head and growing colder with the realization of what he’s about to do. He stares at the small vial on his dresser until he can’t stare at it anymore, and then he downs it all at once. He looks at the vial with renewed interest as it actually disappears once the fluid is gone, the glass evaporating away in the palm of his hand like water droplets under the sun. No evidence.

Lying on his side, he stares at the wall across from his bed and waits for the spell to begin working. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his vision begins to blur, almost so imperceptibly that it’s difficult to realize until he notices everything in his field of view is doubled, objects bleeding out of their lines like pictures drawn by a drunken artist—there’s a strange ringing in his ears too, a sound on the edge of his hearing but still present, and he doesn’t know what any of it means, or if this is how other beings feel when they are on the brink of death—it’s frightening, and he feels a momentary pang of sympathy for other nonhumans and humans alike who have no choice but to experience this terrible ordeal at the closing of their lives—

It’s harder to keep his eyes open now, so he closes them and lets all sounds and sensations fade out of his hearing—he only holds one last memory of you in his mind, of the soft and filmy texture of your wings underneath his fingertips, of you laughing whole-heartedly at something silly he’d said, and he joins his hands together in the universal symbol of prayer even as they grow weaker, hoping and praying even to his cursed vampire ancestor that this won’t be the very last memory of you—

—

“Yes, he has...most certainly departed from this world.”

An Association council member known as Belial announces this to the room of men after doing a thorough check of Lucas’s body. His voice is distant and saddened. The texture of it is almost tangible, dragging everyone down with it like a physical thing—akin to a rock being dropped into a thin sheet. “Such a fledgling, too. Truly tragic and strange circumstances.” Belial stands beside the bed, shaking his head and looking down at the still form of the younger man as if he might discover an answer if he stares for long enough. “Was there no indication…?”

“He was probably exposed to bad blood,” Ten replies, his voice tense and quiet. Though Kun is clan leader, he doesn’t say anything at all, leaving all the dirty work of explaining the lie to Ten.

Belial’s gaze turns to Ten. He shifts his head slightly to turn his ear towards him, as if he didn’t understand what the other man said. “Bad...blood? As in death by blood weakness?”

The room feels like it’s been sucked of air once these words are spoken, and the younger men shift uncomfortably. Sicheng never lifts his gaze to look at Belial, though Yangyang’s eyes keep darting between Belial and Lucas on the bed like he’s waiting for something to happen. Hendery is just as anxious beside Yangyang, both of them passing uneasy energy between each other. Xiaojun’s face is still fixed into the same permanent frown it had been in since Lucas first told them of the plan. His eyes remain downcast and fixed on Lucas, silently asking Why did you have to be the idiot this time?

“Yes, blood weakness. He hadn’t drank as much blood as usual in the last few days...maybe he seemed a little restless...but we didn’t think it was unusual. He...didn’t seem sick.”

“Where would he have gotten bad blood from? We vampires always take such care…” Belial’s tone turns condescending, as if he could expect no better from a young vampire—someone not even wise enough to tell bad blood from uninfected blood. How could one let themselves be taken out of this world by such a fundamental, basic mistake? Kun curls his fingers into a fist at his side, though he quickly remembers himself and tries to let them relax.

“The blood lounge,” Hendery blurts out. Every eye turns to him now, and Ten’s mouth thins into an agitated line. This isn’t what they agreed on. “M-maybe it was spoiled blood from the blood lounge. It had to be. He’s more careful than that…”

Belial’s eyes are whirling with so many emotions that it’s hard to pin any singular one down. “Serving bad blood, with or without knowledge of it, is an incredible offense within any vampire district. In that case, the establishment must be shut down—after an exhaustive investigation, of course.” This statement causes more discomfort among the gathered men, almost too much of it to be properly concealed.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Kun interjects quietly. Belial looks at him with an expression that reeks of offense, and Kun returns the stare, glaring straight into the elder vampire’s eyes. “He died of blood weakness, most likely from drinking from some disease-ridden human. Even though he used the blood lounge and blood bags, he was in the habit of getting outside blood on occasion. It was a moment of poor judgment that cost him his life...and nothing more than that.”

A tense silence stretches over the room, and Belial’s eyes still don’t leave Kun’s. The other men remain statue-still, waiting to see what will happen—if it will work—until Belial says, “Yes. Of course. I’ll file his passing with the Keepers of the Registry, as protocol states.”

The other men stay quiet and motionless until Belial departs from their house.

“You used your compulsion on a council member,” says Yangyang, and even his voice is trembling when he speaks.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Xiaojun notes, though his tone is more irritated than awed. “They’re all so much more advanced.”

That action obviously didn’t come for free, though, because Kun is holding his head like it hurts, turning away from the rest of them. “Such recklessness is not my style. Primitiva help us all. We’re all dead if we’re found out.”

“Why did you say that,” Sicheng deadpans, his words directed to Hendery. Even though Sicheng hasn’t said or done anything since stepping into the room, he looks thoroughly exhausted. “You almost gave us away.”

Hendery holds himself up on the bed as if he’ll collapse, his body bent with all the weight of their lies. He makes a motion like he might sit on the bed before remembering it’s where Lucas’s body is resting, and he straightens himself with some effort. “I...but he was thinking badly of Lucas. Like it was his fault.”

“It was,” Kun says faintly.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you right now. Just let me handle the talking.” Ten’s expression is stressed, and for a moment he starts to wonder if he should’ve ever said anything to Lucas at all.

Xiaojun shakes his head. “For now, there is a lot more we need to do than just talking.”

Vampire funerary procedures are much different from what many other supernatural races are used to—even blasphemous to some. Everything is handled at the home of the deceased instead of a funeral home or mortuary, in keeping with the tradition of honoring one’s vampire ancestors—and ultimately, the Primitiva Vampire. After the Primitiva’s gruesome death hundreds of years ago, all that had been left was her ashes once the fire burned out, but her followers still gave the remains a proper processing and burial.

The men dress Lucas in one of his nicest suits and perform all the necessary actions that would be involved at a funerary home, including preparing the casket. All of them help throughout this process as tradition dictates, though it is more difficult than any of them expected it to be. (No one even makes a dark joke about you’ll have to do this for me when I’m gone, which speaks to their inner turmoil.)

The viewing is equally challenging to get through, if not more.

Many of their vampire friends and acquaintances attend, including various members of the Association. Everyone seems to buy the blood weakness lie perfectly, which means Kun’s compulsion worked as it should have. That knowledge does very little to relax any of them in the grand scheme of things, though.

Though they know Lucas is not really gone, the sight of him lying there in that dark coffin with other vampires looking sadly down at his still face and dabbing their tears away is deeply frightening.

The night of the viewing goes by at a glacial pace, and every other night after that up until the funeral passes even more slowly, like time itself has dropped its speed to prolong the torment.

When the last few straggling visitors for the viewing are gone, the men go their separate ways to try to deal with the not-so-small trauma of the day’s events. Kun goes up to one of the manor’s several wide balconies, one that they’ve all used as a familiar hangout spot or simply a place to unwind over the years. The sun will not rise for another forty-five minutes or so, giving him enough time to sit and think before it becomes unsafe. He is not very surprised when he finds Ten already there, though he decides not to leave.

“You stopped smoking three decades ago,” Kun comments, waving his hand in a pitiful attempt to clear out the smell of smoke filling the air. There’s no hint of teasing or personality in his voice, only hollowness and exhaustion. He sits beside the other man in one of the chairs sat outside. “Where did you even get cigarettes from?”

“Don’t worry about me. This is just for the nerves.”

“Why would I worry, it’s not like you can—” Kun pauses before saying the word they both know, realizing it hits far too close to home right now. Silence falls between them until Kun asks, “Do you actually believe this will be worth it?”

“It will. We’ve worked too hard for it not to be.” Ten takes a drag from his cigarette. “We’re giving them a second chance. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

“A second chance. How interesting.”

“Everyone deserves one.” Ten glances at Kun from the corners of his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, but Kun already knows what he’s vaguely implying.

“And yet everyone doesn’t get one.”

“All the more reason to take the opportunity when it becomes possible.”

Kun doesn’t reply to that. Ten places a hand on his shoulder, but the older man meets this with little regard as he rises from his seat and walks away at a sluggish pace.

You stand in the train station ready to buy a ticket, clutching documents falsifying your identity and feeling more terrified than you possibly ever have. Today marks the seventh day, and you don’t even know if Lucas is alive right now. It was too risky to have any of the other clan members contact you—not until you and Lucas meet up in the designated place. You know Aldriel is an excellent potion master, and if he says the spell will work as intended then it will, but there’s always that seed of doubt.

Your parting with Aldriel had been typical of your relationship with him—you crumbling before him and him pretending like he was fine, lending enough strength for the both of you to survive on, though you knew he was also bleeding from the heart.

“You better not forget about me,” you’d told him, smushing your face into the sleeve of his shirt to hide your tears, though there was no stopping the flow. It was staining his shirt sleeve right through.

He’d scoffed at you, though it was a watery sound. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He’d held your head closer against his shoulder, the both of you glued together in whichever way seemed fit when you’d walked through his door one last time to say goodbye. “We’ll see each other again. Don’t worry.”

You’d lifted your head from his shoulder then, looking at him with an aggrieved expression. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Aldriel put his hand on top of your head, petting you like a small puppy. It was a thing you’d disliked since you were both children, but which only made your heart hurt even more now. “Have more faith in me than that, dear sister. You’ll see.”

When it’s your turn to get a ticket, you step up to the counter and hand over your information, trying to keep the shaking in your hands to a minimum. The teller behind the counter is also a fairy, their wings tucked against the back of their uniform but peeking out at the sides. You childishly try to take some solace in that, hoping there will be some solidarity between you two. Maybe they’ll be less critical of your legitimacy than any other being might be.

The process is scarily easier than you’d thought it would be, though you are sweating the entire time. A fake name and birth date, and no one suspected anything. All of this would have to be your new identity now if you were to live with Lucas in Tianjin without being discovered.

Getting on the train when it comes is only part of the long journey ahead. It doesn’t provide you with much relief, but you are at least thankful to have one segment of that journey complete.

—

It takes another cab to get to your destination once you’re off the train, but you soon arrive at the house of one of Aldriel’s friends and his similar-name twin—Raziel. Raziel was Aldriel’s most trusted and oldest friend, their woven history extending back to childhood. The three of you had grown up together, and you’d even been quite familiar with Raziel until they left for Tianjin some years ago. Now, you’re back in front of each other again under circumstances that you never could’ve guessed.

“You’re here. Good.” Raziel welcomes you into their house with open arms, tugging you into a jittery hug that you anxiously return.

“Have...you heard anything?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Raziel wouldn’t have gotten any more information than you have, not until Lucas was standing right on their doorstep. They shake their head and give you a sympathetic look, patting your hands.

“He’ll be alright. Everything will go well. I believe it.” Raziel guides you further into their house, presumably towards the room you’ll be staying in while you’re there. “It’s all so romantic, though—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I hope you know you’re doing a good thing, in the end.”

You force your facial muscles into a smile, though it is a ghostly and fleeting one. “Thank you.”

Either way, you will have to wait until nighttime to know if Raziel’s words come true or not; the sun is still high in the sky. It’s only midday. You’ve never before hated the sunlight, but right now you curse the sun’s rays that elongate the time between you and your lover.

—

“You all, give him some damn space,” Ten says, trying to pull the younger vampires away so they won’t crowd around the coffin. “He doesn’t need the scare of his life looking at all your faces when he wakes up.” Despite trying his best to be the voice of reason, Ten also has to refuse the urge to station himself beside the coffin and watch for the slightest movement of eyelids, the tiniest twitch of the lips. His hands shake from the frayed nerves of a week of nothing but death and gloom, and even though he doesn’t need to sleep, he thinks he will be out for at least two days after all of this is over.

There is no set time, no designated signal for when—or the dreaded if—Lucas will awaken. The waiting game feels longer than it really is, especially with the hours until the funeral commences steadily counting down. However, it is not very long before there’s a big sucking breath coming from the coffin, the sudden sound of lungs being filled after a week of complete stillness. Everyone rushes back to the bier when this happens, peering wildly inside the coffin.

Lucas’s eyelids flutter for an eternity before shooting open. He immediately seems distressed upon waking, sitting up out of the coffin so quick that it stutters on its stand, and the others have to steady it before it tips over.

“Xuxi...are you okay?” Sicheng asks, voice hushed with nervousness. Despite his unending anger and distress about the situation, Kun has also crowded in to witness Lucas’s awakening, and he visibly sags with relief to see the younger man is at last awake.

The look in Lucas’s eyes is wild. They are momentarily afraid that maybe something has gone wrong with the potion—maybe it has affected his mind somehow and he doesn’t remember any of them— but then he says,

“Y/N. Is Y/N okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sicheng replies. “I mean, hopefully. But it was safer to not have so much cross-communication going on—you’ll have to go to the meeting spot to find out…”

Though the reasons for this make sense, this does not provide consolation. Lucas fumbles his way out of the coffin with the men’s help. It’s clear he’s still disoriented, which makes them even more nervous, if that’s possible at this point.

“You should drink some blood before you leave,” Hendery suggests, and everyone else agrees. Lucas won’t argue that, so he downs one of the blood bags they have stored until he feels a little more like himself.

“You have to go soon, the funeral is set to start in another hour—we’ll have to leave—” Yangyang warns him, though the words fade at the end of his sentence. He doesn’t know how to continue his thought or how to even begin saying goodbye.

Lucas fills that gap by steeling himself and saying his farewells to each of them in turn, though his eyes are troubled and his chin crumples like he might cry at any moment.

“Don’t say I never helped you out with anything,” Ten says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. Being separated is painful, but it’ll ultimately serve its purpose of giving Lucas a chance at having a love that none of them could. After seeing Kun suffer the way he did after losing Jingyi, Ten wants to spare another one of his mates from dealing with the same fate.

When Lucas gets to Kun, there is a slight awkward silence and a swift exchange of glances—Lucas’s soft gaze butting up against Kun’s more solid one, which is simultaneously pleading to him and rebuking him for his actions. Still, Kun embraces him tightly enough that their bodies could join together.

“Xuxi…” Kun starts, “I don’t…” And then his words break, leaving an unspoken thought between them.

“One day, you’ll forgive me for this,” Lucas whispers to the older man. Kun gives him an endlessly hurt look in return, silently asking him how he could even conceive those words. When they separate from each other, it’s with much reluctance. Lucas looks at them all and nods once, his mouth tight with grief.

“Right. Time to go, then.”

—

You awake in the middle of the night to cool fingers on the side of your face, which startles you completely out of your sleep. Opening your eyes to an unfamiliar room scares you even more, and it takes you a moment to remember why your surroundings have changed. The knowledge comes back to you quickly when a large palm slips against your own, long fingers twining with yours.

“Xuxi,” you whisper quietly, the sound of his name hanging in the air like a prayer. One of the last few times you’ll be able to freely call him that, except in private.

You can’t see his figure well with all the lights turned out, but he had no problem navigating through the dark to reach your bedside. Wanting desperately to see his face, you fumble around for the bedside lamp switch before turning it on.

“Y/N…” Lucas’s face is suddenly illuminated to you in all its golden glory, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” you say breathlessly. You’re somewhat sad and wish you could’ve met him at the door, embraced him after his long trip, but it doesn’t much matter anymore because he’s here now.

“Poor Y/N. My baby must’ve been so tired.” Lucas bumps his forehead against yours, his whole body drooping with relief as he practically sinks into you, and you giggle a little as you complain about having to hold his weight up. There is a tingle behind your eyes that threatens to turn into a sudden burst of tears, but you try to hold them at bay for a while longer.

“Are we safe?” he whispers, needing your confirmation. “Raziel said so. But...are we really safe?”

“That’s frightening to even think about,” you reply quietly. “We can’t stay here too long, but for now…I think we will be.” Lucas nods without a word, still holding your hand. His blood-scent is completely absent, as it usually is when he’s around you, and you know he’s used the blockers. Soon, with the ability to go out together and not be arrested or threatened for it, that will not be necessary to disguise his vampirism anymore. “It...won’t be easy.”

“No, but the things we want out of life usually aren’t.”

You squeeze his hand. “Raziel will help take care of things for us. It won’t all be trials and tribulations. I hope.” More hesitantly, you ask him, “What was it like? Being dead?” You know that vampires, being once human, still have souls and an afterlife to go to like most other living beings.

The look on his face is worrying. He doesn’t meet your eyes; he only shakes his head and stares at your joined hands. “It was cold without you.” His lips pull into a weak and chapped smile, if only to quiet your worrying, but that doesn’t work as intended. You decide to leave it for now, figuring there will be more time to talk about it when he feels ready.

Turning the light back off, you both press your bodies together as close as they can physically get, Lucas’s head on your chest and his long legs all jumbled together with yours. You fall asleep before he does, lulled away by his comforting and safe presence. He stays awake for a while longer, staring into the dark and the dark staring back into him, before everything else falls away.

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venticuliao · 3 years

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a humble analysis of devil gene design

consuming genshin lore has given me a new perspective on character design that i turned onto tekken for a bit (because of course) and found some interesting things about kazumi

(unfortunately, there will be a few references to genshin in here, apology in advance)

kijo inspiration

a kijo is a young woman who has turned into an oni (demon, though they are not counterparts of each other) as a result of karma, intense jealousy, a grudge and the likes in japanese folklore. its older version, the onibaba, has been portrayed wearing a hannya mask in some films.

while male oni are traditionally depicted with red or blue skin, kijo and onibaba have white skin and (sometimes) horns of a red shade, which are devil kazumi's most prominent design features.

see genshin's design for character chiyo, as a different contemporary example:

kabuki inspiration

kabuki is a traditional form of theater in japan, where actors paint themselves to portray different roles. color and shape of the makeup change the character's identity and motivation.

Aragoto is a style of kabuki acting that uses exaggerated, dynamic kata (forms or movements) and speech. Aragoto roles are characterised by the bold red or blue makeup worn by actors, as well as their enlarged and padded costumes. The term "aragoto" is an abbreviation of the term "aramushagoto", which literally means "wild-warrior style".

kazumi's body makeup is oddly similar to aragoto.

tasuki (the ropes going under the armpits) are not exclusive in kabuki and they're certainly more exaggerated than kazumi's human form, but it might be worth of note to consider that hers also ties a bow in the back.

kumadori makeup

kabuki actors also wear facial stage makeup that defines each character's nature. kazumi's face makeup specifically doesnt match any type of kumadori, but the placing closely resembles the mukimiguma (from "mukimi", shellfish without shell), which is used for roles that portray youthful sensuality and a strong sense of justice.

it's pretty ironic how both the aragoto style and the mukimiguma point towards a heroic character but perhaps ultimately overshadowed by the kijo implications haha

also worth of mention:

funerary kimono

apparently, in japanese tradition corpses are dressed in a white kimono closed with the right side over the left

and what do u know

of course, at this point kazumi has long pased and we're just meeting whatever remains of her hatred/grudge remain

but wait, whats that

ANYWAYs

the devil bois

i personally am convinced kazuya's devil form was directly influenced by go nagai's devilman (with the whole demon/angel conflict going on), which isnt to say there was plagiarism or something like that. much to my dicomfort, nagai's work inspired a lot of creators with his different series (he basically invented mecha with mazinger z), and its just natural to find his influence in certain genres.

jinpachi's devil form is most likely inspired off a haradashi (a harmless yokai with a mouth in its belly), but he kinda looks like an oni to me?? haha

oni supposedly (in some tales) are tormentors of the underworld, and jinpachi has a couple of movesets named according to that theme it seems (enma's fury, oni claw, jigoku kick, hadaka jigoku, jigokumeguri) (his other movesets also allude to other folklore creatures like tengu or cultural characters like susanoo, so dont take it too seriously !!)

(also #3, this is neither here nor there, but i find it interesting that kazumi has a move named after wind god, who in japanese folklore is the brother of the god of lightning.. u know.. with the mishima's thunder theme going on..)

that only leaves jin out of the equation of design. if kazumi and jinpachi have (alleged) references to japanese culture and kazuya was a devilmansona (at least at the beginning), then what inspired devil jin's design?

i do not have an answer yet, but the tattoos remind me a bit of kumadori (this is what kicked off this entire research haha)

tumblr tells me i cannot add any more pictures, but his tattoo's shape loosely resemble that of the chaguma style, used for supernatural creatures like the tsuchigumo (a spider yokai) and the ibarakidoji, which is a demon child.

i havent looked through everyone's moveset names and am by absolutely no means an expert on this subject, but this was fun to put together

#kazumi mishima #tekken #devil kazumi #tekken thoughts

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ineffably-good · 4 years

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The First Heist Of The Rest Of Their Lives

I wrote this story for two different people -- first it was for @tlou15, who asked for a story about Aziraphale and Crowley finding one of their skulls from a prior incarnation. And then I also worked it around to cover the heist story I promised @lovermrjokerr for their 8k writing challenge, which I signed up to participate in two months ago! I’ m two days late posting my story for that challenge -- but I had to get through the rest of my May story prompts first! Too many irons in the fire, as they say!

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley come across a relic of one of their former corporations in a museum, and immediately realize they have to liberate it. Hijinks ensue.

______________________________

There were times when being an ethereal entity capable of dying and recorporating came back to bite you in the ass.

Over the years, Crowley and Aziraphale had become increasingly good at limiting their discorporations. It took a couple millennia of practice, however, to learn to recognize and avoid the obvious dangers in this new world of theirs. At first, the fatal accidents were more frequently and somewhat unexpected. A fall from a high cliff (demon), simply because neither of them knew that a fall could kill them. A rather unnecessary drowning (angel), simply because the entity in question didn’t know that failing to hold one’s breath underwater would result in death. A kick in the head from a large land ungulate (demon) with a grudge. A rather deep spear injury (angel) that could have simply been side stepped. The list went on and on.

Luckily, Above and Below were also somewhat more accommodating and liberal with the issuing of new bodies than they came to be in later years.

As time passed, they got to better at the protocols of losing a body, too. Go back to home base, fill out the paperwork (in triplicate, for hell, using a scratchy pencil whose point always broke off), be polite (in Heaven) or surly (in Hell) to the body clerk, and get a new one issued as quickly as possible. Make your way back to Earth and then go back and clean up the scene of the crime, so to speak, so you didn’t leave the remnants of an ethereally-issued skeleton around. Tidy up the memories of anyone involved in the incident, and reassume your old life if possible, or, if a funeral had already been held and too many people were involved, simply move on to a new location or assignment. It all worked out.

For the most part.

Being, as they were, two of the more lackadaisical, non-detail oriented entities ever stationed in this sphere, though, it was natural that here and there a few of the details got missed.

Which is what led to the two of them, standing in front of an exhibit in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, filled with a deep sense of foreboding.

“Is that…” Crowley muttered.

“No, it couldn’t possibly be…” Aziraphale said under his breath.

“I’m fairly certain it is…”

“Oh, dear lord,” Aziraphale breathed. “Yes, that’s one of mine!”

In front of them, an exhibit on the Mayans did an admirable job showcasing their culture and achievements, dispelling the pervasive myths of human sacrifice, and above all showing a recreation of a temple display used to honor their dead. By punching holes in each side of a series of skulls and stringing them on a pole, like beads, to be displayed and revered.

And right smack in the center, oddly devoid of the same signs of aging and decay as the ones around it, was a brilliant white skull that bore more than a passing resemblance to the man staring at it in horror through the glass. To the human observers, it just appeared oddly pristine. But to Crowley and Aziraphale and any other ethereal entity who bothered to take a look, it was pulsing with remnants of celestial energy.

Crowley dissolved in laughter. This earned him a stern glare from the angel.

“What?” he said, snorting. “Your skull is hanging like a pendant on a stick in the Natural History Museum and I can’t laugh? How could you just leave one of your skulls laying around in – in what? Peru? Where did this come from?”

Aziraphale sniffed. “Mexico, I believe. I spent some time there, in San Lorenzo, the first Olmec capital.”

“You did?” Crowley asked. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“We weren’t speaking at the time,” Aziraphale said. “Remember that big fight we had in Persia?”

“Oh, that…” Even after several thousand years, Crowley still managed to sound vaguely resentful. “You mean when you clocked me unconscious with your fist?”

“You hit me first!”

“Not the same, and you know it,” Crowley sulked. Being hit by a snake demon who was not bred for fighting was nothing like being punched in the jaw by the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. It was like being hit by a locomotive – although the comparison wouldn’t come to him for a few thousand years.

Aziraphale glanced over at him, taking in the sulky look on the demon’s face. “Oh, come now, my dear,” he pouted. “We’ve long sense settled that particular kerfuffle. I apologized multiple times, didn’t I?”

Crowley mouthed the word ‘kerfuffle’ to himself with a grin. “I suppose we did, yes.” He stepped over a few feet and read the long and detailed card about the skulls in front of them. “Oh angel, listen to this.”

He read from the placard:

Called a tzompantli by the Mayans, these ritual displays were believed to be used to showcase were originally thought to be a grotesque display of slain enemies, placed to rally the Mayan’s support for their leaders and to serve as a warning sign to others to stay away from Mayan territory. Although rumors have abounded about human sacrifice in Mayan culture, recent evidence reveals that these displays may have been more funerary in usage, highlighting the revered ancestors and that many of these skulls shows signs of being dead long before the post-holes were cut in them.

“How, pray tell, did you become one of the honored dead for the Mayans?” Crowley said, grinning. “Or were you actually sacrificed at one of their temples? Drowned in a cenote?”

Aziraphale frowned. “That’s a story for another time, my dear.”

“Oh, but I haven’t even gotten to the good bit. The part where they talk about the gleaming white skull in the center and how it shows signs of having been treated with some unknown and lost technology that made it ‘impervious to decay’.” Crowley chortled.

“I really should find a way to remove it from the display,” Aziraphale fretted. “Before someone decides to take a closer look at it under one of those – scanning microscope thingies they have now and discovers it doesn’t appear to be fully human. Or before one of the archangels finds out about it…”

“Ha!” Crowley shouted. “Imagine the uproar. Evidence of ancient aliens discovered in Smithsonian Museum! The chaos around the world!”

Aziraphale turned fully towards Crowley and looked menacing in the way that only he could. “Whatever foolish idea you’re forming right now for mischief,” he said warningly, “I absolutely forbid it!”

“Aw, angel,” Crowley whined. “Come on, I never get to have any fun.”

“You can have some fun by helping me pilfer this exhibit once the museum is closed tonight,” Aziraphale said. “I do believe the security here is rather prodigious.”

“You intend to rob the museum on our vacation?” Crowley asked, astonished. “You could just… you know… miracle the skull out, replace it with a duplicate.”

Aziraphale studied the exhibit for a long slow moment, considering, then turned and settled a blinding grin on his demon spouse. “I could,” he drawled, “but where would the fun be in that?”

Crowley felt a warm rush of something run through him. Love? Joy? Slight anxiety? Who knew. All he knew was the angel was quite possibly the most perfect thing on the entire Earth. No, in the galaxy. Quite possibly the galactic cluster.

“So,” the angel continued. “Are you in or out?”

“I’m in,” Crowley managed to croak, through his haze of feelings. “I’m so in.”

Aziraphale rewarded him with a peck on the cheek, then offered his arm to the demon and shepherded him down to the café, murmuring something about having heard they had the loveliest cakes here. Time to do a little planning, and what better way then over a little dessert?

They hunkered down in the museum’s café, over a gaudy orange tray that held two lovely napoleons and two cups of a rather poor excuse for tea, and started making plans.

Aziraphale surveyed the room around them. “We could just – you know, hide somewhere until everything is closed tonight. Saves breaking in.”

Crowley took a sip of his tea, made a disgusted face, and nodded neutrally. “We could, of course. That’d be the sensible thing to do.” He took a smaller sip. “Or, we could really go for it. Assemble a crack team, get some tech, do that thing with carabiners and cables.” He mimes a Tom Cruise, Mission Impossible style, arms-out float down from the ceiling and manages to convey that he would also be holding a knife in his teeth at the same time.

Aziraphale smiles, noncomittally. “Well that does sound exciting, my dear. But I can’t quite imagine that we have time to set that all up by tonight. And I do think we ought to get my skull out of there as soon as possible. It could hardly be a coincidence, don’t you think, our running into it here today?”

Crowley frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, just that we have a way of stumbling onto things at exactly the right moment,” the angel said. “Who’s to say that if we put the recovery off for a week, we wouldn’t somehow have Gabriel leading a team of school children through here tomorrow for some reason and discovering it, or some stupid Earth magician about to steal it for his own magical purposes?”

Crowley blinked at him. “You’re saying it’s fate that we came here today and that we’re not meant to leave without the skull? It’s not Armageddon, angel.”

Aziraphale took a bite of his napoleon and then delicately tapped the edges of his mouth with the napkin. “Well,” he said, leaning forward. “Doesn’t it feel a bit urgent to you? I mean, underneath it all?”

Crowley had to admit, the angel had a point.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “No tech. Can we at least synch our watches or something?”

Aziraphale stared at him flatly for a moment and then pulled out his ancient pocket watch, complete with chain. “If we must.”

Crowley grinned.

It was funny, Crowley thought, that it was Aziraphale who insisted that they be appropriately attired for their heist. They’d hidden themselves away in a maintenance wing close to the Mayan exhibit, and Aziraphale had first used a miracle to suit them both up in black, skin tight cat-burglar type outfits, then another miracle to cover those up with maintenance worker uniforms and caps which made them fit right in so that no one would give them a second look.

“Stop fidgeting with your coveralls, Crowley!” the angel hissed, handing him a push broom. “You look very suspicious. Now get out there and let’s figure out where all of the cameras are.”

It was nearly closing time, and no one noticed anything awry when they wheeled their carts out into the Mayan area and began putting up bright yellow “Wet Floor” signs and started sweeping up the debris of the day. A quick, small miracle made them completely unnoticeable to the other maintenance staff – just two ordinary guys, no different than the guys they saw every day working this area, obviously well underway on their evening chores and with no need of any further supervision.

Soon enough, the building was closed and even the maintenance staff was putting away their equipment and getting ready to leave through the service entrance, leaving the building in the hands of the security staff. Crowley and Aziraphale made themselves scarce in a storage closet, until all the sounds in the building had ceased. Then they took off their coveralls and headed out to the exhibit in their dark-colored gear.

A quick miracle took care of the cameras, shifting them just slightly so that they showed everything except the skulls display. After that, they stood in front of the glass case, examining it closely.

Aziraphale rolled his shoulders. “Shall I just dissemble the case, then?” he asked quietly, reaching up to place his hands on either corner of the front panel.

“No!” Crowley all but shrieked. “Stop. Look, there’s a laser, right there.” He pointed at a small blue light that was shining on the edge of the glass door, just above the lock. “Clearly if the door is opened and the light beam gets interrupted, an alarm will go off. Don’t you watch movies, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale dropped his hands and stepped back. “Not unless you make me, no. So, what do we do about this laser?”

Crowley thought for a minute. What would James Bond do? Shoot someone and kiss a girl, probably. He failed to see how either was helpful at this point in the process. And if he was kissing anyone, it was going to be the angel, and he had that activity slated for quite a bit later in the evening. He sighed. What was the world coming to when even James Bond couldn’t provide insight?

Aziraphale looked at him, a little worried, and that spurred him into action. Crowley held out his pointer finger and concentrated until a demonic claw sprang into existence where his fingernail should be. He sharpened it, made it harder, and whittled it down to a fine, fine point.

“Stand back, angel,” he said. “If we can’t open the door without setting off the laser alarm, we’re just going to go in above that.”

And feeling just like every bad-ass heist hero he’d ever watched in a movie, he started carving a large circular hole in the glass case in front of him. This normally wouldn’t work on the specialized shatter-proof glass that the museum used, but the one thing the special chemistry of the glass wasn’t prepared to repel was demonic intention. It cut before him like butter, silently and gently, until a large, 12” circle of glass fell loose in his other hand.

Crowley turned and handed the removed glass circle to Aziraphale, who carefully put it on the floor and gave the demon a bright smile.

“Oh, that was very nice, dear,” he whispered. “Very slick.”

“Now,” Crowley said, aware he was showing off a little bit, “we just reach in there and remove your skull from the pole –”

He stuck his hand through and then froze as several things happened at once.

One, a large alarm started blaring.

Two, they both suddenly realized that the skull was affixed to the horizontal pole through both sides of the brainpan, and that they could neither straight-out remove it nor could they slide it off the pole because of the number of other skulls hanging from the same pole on either side of it.

Three, a huge puff of some kind of gas came shooting out of the display case, hitting Crowley directly in the eyes. He dropped to the floor like a stone.

Aziraphale, having a slight second more warning than Crowley did, immediately stopped breathing, picked up his demon, and bent time and space to manifest them both back to their hotel. He put the demon down on the bed, covered him up, ensured he was breathing, and then realized he’d forgotten the skull.

“Oh FUCK,” he exclaimed, using the word for what was only the third time in his life. He snapped again, miracling himself back to the scene of the crime, and used magic to remove the central skull (and a portion of the pole with it) from the display. He had just raised a hand to disappear himself home when three security guards with guns drawn came running into the room.

“Freeze!” the shouted, their flashlight beams playing over him. “Hands up and turn around!”

Aziraphale turned slowly. “I can’t put my hands up, as you can see --” he called out in his most soothing voice, blinking through the blinding beams of light to try to see who he was dealing with, “-- because I am holding a rather priceless artifact. Please stay calm.”

He heard the safety on a gun click off and did his best to raise both hands and the pole with it over his head. The skull – his skull, disturbingly – rattled ominously as he did so. This was most offputting, he thought.

“Kneel!” the frontmost officer shouted, and Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes at the absurdity of all of this, but did so, carefully balancing the – his – skull overhead the whole time.

“Really, gentlemen,” he said quietly, using a tad of angelic influence. “We can talk this out. No need for those weapons.”

“You can talk it out with the police,” the front man said. “Lay down the artifact in front of you VERY SLOWLY.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m so sorry, but I’m rather afraid I can’t do that. You see this skull is nearly three thousand years old and if it touches the ground it might disintegrate.”

“Lay it down, NOW!” the man screamed, and Aziraphale suddenly noticed a couple of red laser sight dots playing about on his chest. This, he decided was getting much too serious.

Oh botheration. He usually left this kind of manipulation to Crowley to carry out – he was so much better at it. Nonetheless, Crowley was home and unconscious and possibly injured, and he wasn’t helping anyone by allowing himself to be shot or captured, and there was no way it was going to get back to heaven that he had been arrested – and for BURGLARY! – so with a deep, dejected sigh, he conjured up his powers and sent a wave of gentle but unavoidable exhortation and watched as all three men froze in place.

He slowly made his way to his feet, cradling the skull to his chest with one arm, and walked over to the exhibit, where he created and inserted an identical but non-ethereal copy of the skull and pole he’d removed, replaced and repaired the glass, and turned off the alarm. He checked the cameras to ensure that they were all still off. They were. And finally, he walked over to the armed men and gently touched each of them on the temple, one after the other.

“You will not remember the events of the last fifteen minutes,” he said, poking around the tiniest bit to ensure that this was true. “You will wake in a few minutes, after having a lovely dream about whatever you like best.”

And with that done, he returned to the hotel to tend to his demon.

Crowley woke up a few hours later, groggy and confused. “Angel?” he shouted, leaning up to look frantically around the room. “Angel?”

“Hush, dearest, I’m here,” Aziraphale said, sitting down on the bed beside him.

“What happened?”

“Oh, well,” the angel said. “We got interrupted. You set off a second alarm when you reached into the case and were sprayed with some gas that essentially knocked you out for a few hours. I brought you home and then went back for the skull.”

Crowley moaned and flopped his head back down on the pillow. “You mean – I missed everything? You went back without me? Angel, how could you?”

“You were unconscious, my dear,” the angel said reasonably. “And it wasn’t so hard. I removed the skull, put in a duplicate, wiped the memories of the three security guards who were thinking about shooting me, and popped back home, quick as a jiffy. No harm done.”

“Three men with guns?” Crowley said, looking suddenly very alert. “You went back alone to face three Americans with guns? You know how they are, angel.”

Aziraphale tutted. “Well in my defense, there were no men with guns when I left, so they were a bit of a surprise. However, I assure you that I was never in any danger. I turned their bullets to marshmallows as soon as they entered the room.”

“Marshmallows,” said Crowley flatly. “Really?”

“What’s wrong with that?” the angel asked, a tad indignantly. “I thought it was a rather nice solution to the problem.”

“Not very criminal of you,” Crowley muttered. He looked, the angel thought, jealous and pouty.

Aziraphale smiled softly. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish the heist with me, my dear. It would have gone so much more smoothly if you were there.”

“’m good at heists,” Crowley mumbled.

“The very best,” Aziraphale said, wondering if he was laying it on too thick. “Definitely as good as anyone in the Bond films.”

“Only as good?” the demon said, with the hint of a smile.

“Oh, definitely better than some,” Aziraphale replied. “I’d say you’re head and shoulders above Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, and Pierce Brosnan.”

The demon preened a little, although he was clearly trying to hide it. “And Sean Connery?” he asked.

“Hrm,” the angel said, consideringly. “I’d say you’d give him a good run for his money.”

Crowley sat up more fully, looking much more like himself. “And let’s not even start on Daniel Craig,” he said. “Hey, do you think the hotel television has movie channels? Maybe we can find a couple Bond films to watch before we eat dinner.”

“Might be wise of us to lay low tonight,” the angel said. “After all you were injured and we did just break into the Smithsonian. Perhaps we’ll order room service instead of going out.”

“Dinner and a movie?” Crowley said.

“That sounds just lovely.”

In the corner, in a duffel bag, a blindingly white skull with two large holes in it just above the ear canal sat quietly, a piece of ancient wood tucked carefully in beneath it. They’d take it back to London, Aziraphale had decided, and find some way to dispose of it there, or simply lock it up in one of Anathema’s spell-guarded chests if they couldn’t destroy it. It could take up a new life beneath the floorboards of the bookshop, somewhere where no one could find it or use it to cause them any trouble.

They were safe as houses, Aziraphale thought, problem averted. But just in case, he carefully warded the doors and windows as soon as dinner had been delivered so that no one could enter or leave for the rest of the night.

You could never be too careful.

#lovermrjokerr8kchallenge #good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale x Crowley #ineffable idiots #heist stories

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gwythaint · 5 years

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For several years, I have been running a Wuxia pastiche campaign within my Northport setting. The population of Northport is quite mixed, having a large number of goblin artisans (the goblins have lived in the city since its founding a few thousand years ago), humans, orcs, and a fair amount of mixed folk, given the situation to the east, where the nation of Shevnia lost a war with orcs because of a lost paytrain for their army, sort of like the post goblin war of Lesserton & Mor. There are nations with different cultures to either side of Northport, which is set in an area inspired by Banestorm, in the old empire of Aral, with Valdassya to the west, and Shevnia to the east. In addition to the Aralaise speaking Orcs, Goblins, and humans, there are two other communities: Little Shevnia to the east, and Little Sahud to the west. I was sort of looking at Tredroy as an inspiration for part of this. (Of course my city was also informed by the advenure Banrnacus, City in Peril. from Dragon Magazine # 80, as mentioned on my last podcast, along with my frequently recommended Ruins of the Undercity)

I know that using a pan-Asian pastiche like Sahud in my campaign is pretty crassly not PC, but I had a request by several players armed with google translate and wikipedia articles and a general knowledge base of cheesy kung fu films that wanted to play in that kind of setting. With apologies to the large number of people who may be offended by this kind of colonial cultural appropriation, this is how the long running conflict between Sakemoko , the patron of these characters, roughly 450 points:

Sakemoko is a squire+treasure hunter+ 50pt genin lens with born warleader 3 ,charisma +2, social regard 2: respected, (Social stigma minority, code of honor: bushido, sense of duty to Sahudese,) guild rank 4, status 2 filthy rich Large ally group of catfolk ninja office:master of funerals, He also has several points in independent income based on His involvement in numerous side businesses

and Akira Aku No, his enemy, roughly 500 points

half oni boss, head of rival ninja clan Brute +treasure hunter+ 50pt wizard lens+ 50pt ninja lens+ infernal + half ogre, has bloodlust, berserk

Both of these figures had extensive ally groups, each having at their service numerous ashigaru, and rival ninja clans.

The Team consisting of Chye Isuel, an ashigaru with some distant dragonman heritage, Chou-Zen Mou, an elder infused wizard specialized in lightning spells, Ales Konstantin, a Shevnian Squire+Adept, Iskander, a Valdassian martial artist (the player was using mostly 3e to build him), Tanaka Kojimaru, a Samurai warrior poet. Jin the Yak and Airis Moonshadow were no longer with the group.

Along with them were Di San Ge Er Zi the one eyed Ashigaru, and a number of mercenaries they hired away from Akira Aku No’s mercenary recruitment drive for promises of better pay, the swordsman Xu, and his partner Chung Wang (Thank you Jackie Chan) as with most of my npc’s, I give a super brief stat block pulled usually from DF15 until more details are needed.

Chung Wang is a Brute St 15 DX 12 IQ 10 Ht 12 Hp 15 per 10 will 10 fp 12 T/s 1d+1/2d+2 Bs 6 mv 6 dodge 9 parry 10 DR 3 torso 5 Skills brawl 13 Two handed sword 14 tetsubo, 2d+4 crushing Gluttony, overconfident, compulsive carousing, greedy

Xu is a Skirmisher St 11 dx 14 iq 10 ht 11 Hp 11 per 10 will 10 fp 11 T/s 1d-1/1d+1 Bs 7.5 mv 7 dodge 11 parry 12 Dr 3 Combat reflexes, ambidexterous Extravagant, impulsive, compulsive carousing Ambitious, suspicious, jealous Broadsword 16 1d+2 cut Shortsword 12 1d cut Karate 12 Fastdraw katana 15 Fastdraw shortsword 15 Light lamelar and helmet with ear and neck protection, Cheap ornate katana and wakizashi

Having decimated the forces of Akira Aku No on the initial raid to recover the tea set containing a divine being or two, and then by robbing his casino, the oni blooded boss had to resort to hiring mercenaries, including, initially Xu, and Chung Wang and a couple of naginata wielding ashigaru, along with Ale’s enemy, Bresnark, a magic user equipped with Rain of Stones and also accompanied by a Created Brute Warrior, who was defeated and robbed of his mundane gear by Iskander and Tanaka. Bresnark could probably have been taken out, except that he has plot protection as an enemy, and has to be defeated by Ales.

During the assault on Sakemoko’s compound, with rooftop ninja archers and assorted poorly armored mooks attacking the gate, a couple of ninja’s got in ( one disguised as a new ashigaru hireling, who was spotted as odd by Di San Ge er Zi,) and poisoned the food stores in the kitchen and then through poison shuriken at the two ashigaru it was hired with. They then led a chase through the complex, cutting holes in shoji paper walls and hiding in the rafters before being cornered in the library, where they were cornered and threatened to burn the place down (Ales stepped in and used Extinguish Fire) They were locked in irons, from which they made an escape, and were eventually hunted down. Chou-Zen had eliminated another ninja who had been on the roof, by casting grease and causing them to fall into the koi pond in the courtyard. Another one was dispatched after the shoji walls were all collapsed and it had no place to hide. The poisoned Ashigaru were treated by the house physician, Yodoko no Hana, who is based on Ehi Shiina from Audition

Yodoku no Hana (poisonous flower) 125pt sage, with Alchemy, poison, physiology first aid, physician, herbary and esoteric medicine, Psychology diagnosis and surgery and detect lies, but no modular book learned wisdom. (Instead, she has the ninja lens) She has callousness, sadist and curious and has torture, pressure secrets and massage? She is attractive and immune to poison and has high pain tolerance. She makes poisons and potions That cause sensitivity and reduce will

In the end, Sakemoko siezed a coveted office, MAster of Funerary Services, from Akira Aku No, who had botched things when his barrels of salt packed dead waiting shipping to the homeland were animated by a toxifier demon, and arranged for all of the funerals of the people who had attacked him, and even gave stipends to the families, building him more Social regard.

Akira Aku No appeared a day later with a full procession including dragonmen and musicians, and sued for peace, saying that he was relocating to Little Shevnia for a beaurocratic job, and sold off his remaining interests in Little Sahud to Sakemoko.

From here, the crew will be heading to Veroigne, a region south of Northport where rice is grown for the Sahudese of Northport.

Veroigne developed in the campaign because a new player wanted to play a member of royalty and his husband, captain of his guard. I had little trouble building them, except for the general absence of Social Status in DF, and settled on giving him a couple of levels of Courtesy Rank. The two, both handsome Chivalrous knights, had a backstory that created some campaign setting. By not accepting an arranged marriage, Baronet James forfeited the barony to his sister Loraine, who had married Marcel Pequenaud, the baron from a neighboring comunity that had serfs, while most of the Veroignese had died during the plague forty years ago, leaving the small barony struggling. Pequenaud is a horrible ruler, and most of the family retainers loyal to Sir Percival and James have become Robin-Hood like bandits dedicated to protecting the peasantry from the Barons predations. As his soldiers are largely collecting taxes, Several other PC’s from Northport (Kirpich Rockson the Priest of Grom, Syvanus the elven archer/thief/wizard, Marlena the Seasoned Apprentice and Snorry Rosslovich the Seasoned Guard, all of whom searched for the lost paytrain in the Shevnian Hexcrawl, along with Dionysus the faun swashbuckler, Aethul the ranger, and Balir Ironhide the Dwarf are on their way to hunt the Terrible Beast of Veroigne, which is terrorizing the peasantry. Along the way they have met a party of Dolmenwood creatures, a moss dwarf, a woodgrue, a frost elf and a grimalkin, and had little issue with them except for the compulsive playing of the woodgrue, that affected a party member or two, and a fantastic creature, the Stag of Veroigne, which gave Aethul a blessing when he approached it nicely. Killing it would have brought on a curse, which would have intensified if they had eaten it. It would have resurrected itself like Frey’s Goats the next day had they done so.

As to what James and Percival were up to in Northport? Thjey joined up with a pair of warrior /wizards, Sederic and Grimaldi to hunt down the racketeering Connard DuMenteur (Asshole the Liar) who had informed the Guard of Vilgar’s underground fighting operation at the very start of the campaign, back in August of 2013. Connard had a fortified building with all access to the undercity cut off, so as to prevent an attack from below. Among his personal crew of kneecappers and fingertakers who collected money for him were five brutes (including Lourdad and Chienne LaChatte, a gigantic elder infused brute that collected fingers as trophies.

After bashing through the brutes, one surrendered (Lourdad) and they went after DuMenteur. He had holed up in his Magelocked lower appartment, and had time to load up on paut, and set up a trap. He opened a secret door that lead into an L-shaped closet, and hid in an alcove behind an arras, and waited for them to break in the door. They had been using sense foes earlier, but they all blindly ran into the close, and had it Magelocked behind them, and were stuck for an hour. when they got out ( the door was stone, and the knights were in front, unable to squeeze past to attempt to break down the door), Both DuMenteur and Vilgar were waiting for them, having come to a financial arrangement. ( I have a lot of bosses parlaying). Grimaldi and Sederic of the cursed, dancing sword went on to do some advertising work for the underground tavern, standing watch while some laborers nailed signs.

Another group, the one that had negotiated a truce with the ogres in the winecellars and are travelling with a four-armed demon hunting celestial descended from a servitor of Kali had tracked down a couple of cultists who were on their way to buy cuttlefish. The cultists of Saturnos the Devourerer have an initiation rite in which the supplicant dyes theyr robes in cuttlefish ink by placing it in a barrel with them and agitating the squiddos by drowning a cat. This leads to the typical markings of the cultists, blackened hands and scratches all over their faces. Typically, they are led into what they think is a sex cult with offers of carnal relations with succubi and incubi, and up until now, the assorted groups of PC’s had thought they were dealing with a demon cult, especially due to all of the petty demons and Demons of Old that they had faced. They were forgetting about the Demons from Between the Stars… As it was discovered by this group, which included Oly the thief, who had funded the paytrain Hexcrawl with loot from fighting the cult when Ludlow the Munificent accidentally blocked their ceremony and created a gate to Hell, Mancini the Guild agent (Agent+Treasure Hunter) and his guard ally Norman, Aoife the Leprechaun Druid who was on the mission to negotiate with the Trolls and entered the Library of Flax, Ardenas Barehand, who had been involved with Oly in stealing the Jugga Trophy from the Orcish Dojo, along with Kalima, they discovered what the cultists were really about.

Kalima - 250 pt celestial avatar of Kali Att 80 Adv 149 Dis -50 Q-5 Sk 44 Sp 32 Total: 250 Attributes: ST 15 [0]; DX 12 [20]; IQ 13 [60]; HT 13 [10]. Damage 1d+1/2d+1; BL 39 lbs.; HP 15 [0]; Will 14 [0]; Per 13 [0]; FP 14 [0]; Basic Speed 7.00 [-10]; Basic Move 7 [0]. Advantages: Celestial [75] (ST+1, dx+1,iq+1, ht+1, will+1, fp+1, bs +.5, attractive , fit, spirit empathy, celestal nimbus,divine gifts, Divine curse (preferred enemy of demons) weakness to evil areas) Half Ogre [20] ST+4 [40]; IQ-1 [-20]; HT+1 [10]. Advantages: Damage Resistance 1 (Tough Skin, -40%) [3]; Fearlessness 1 [2]; Night Vision 3 [3]. Disadvantages:Appearance (Ugly) [-8]; Social Stigma (Savage) 2 extra arms [20] Higher Purpose, Slay Demons [5] Sharp Teeth [5] power Investiture 2 [20] signature gear, spear [3] Charms [6] Dis: Unattractive [0] Honesty [-10] Pacifism, Cannot harm Innocents [-10] Sense of Duty [-5 ](Adventuring Companions) selfless [-5] Bloodlust [-10] Bad Temper [-10] Unnatural Features 3, (3rd eye, Black glossy skin, flame red hair) Q usually wears only silk loincloth, coral bracelets and anklets, marigold wreath, likes to dance Charms Aura Invisibility Turn Spirit Final Rest Steal HT Eviscerate Skills: Brawling 8 15 Wrestling 4 13+2 Spear 12 15 Garrotte 4 13 Theology 2 12 Thanatology 2 12 Hidden Lore, Demons 4 14 Meditation 2 12 Intimidation 1 15 Detect Lies 1 11 Diplomacy 1 11 Stealth 1 12 Observation 1 12 Dance 1 12 Spells: Protection from Evil 4 15 Invisibility 4 15 Final Rest 4 15 Aura 4 15 Steal HT 4 15 Turn Spirit 4 15 Eviscerate VH 8 15 Equipment: Spear Pussiant +1 vs Demons Currently wearing a bolt of reddish linen as a sari.

When they followed the cuttlefish seekers back to their lair, finding their signature trap, Evil Runes that drain FP, and stealthily took them and a couple petty demons out, they found a large crowd of cultists about to sacrifice a demon of old! the demon, along with some petty demons participating in the ceremony, immediately attacked Kalima, a favored enemy. The feeling was mutual, and she drained health on a couple, like her ancestor, and the demon ripped free of his silvered chains and flew up to attack her (he had berserk). She killed him by eviscerating him and eating his heart. Unfortunately for the PC’s all of the deaths (and there were many) enhanced the ceremony in progress, the summoning of an Elder Servitor. It took a lot, including Ardenas using Winged Knife on the cult champion’s silvered greatsword to kill the servitor but they did. The cultists of the Devourerer, who started the campaign by killing everyone who had the spell divination or any kind of oracular ability, are Cultists of the Elder Gods!

This was noticed by the Ymid, with his Sense Weird ability, but he was two bothered by the destruction of his skiff ( a nifty little contragravity craft he had parked on the other side of the Bone Gate) by a Bhole passing through the gate. Yaay there is now a super Dire Rot worm somewhere in the dungeon (pencilling in a purple worm encounter). The Juniors group will be fetching alchemical components for the repair of the skiff. Additionally, they have just acquired some cultists of their own; some serfs fleeing Veroigne who were met on the road by thatr gorup, who are all worshipers of Vejovis, the roman defender of injustice, worshiped by Nodwin, the Initiate travelling with the Juniors group.

Now for some art updates:

These two are going to be in Gabor Lux‘s Echoes from Fomalhaut 5.

I am also working on a bundle of Dungeon entrances:

Links coming soon when I get a few more drawn.

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A resolution to part of a campaign, and some play reports For several years, I have been running a Wuxia pastiche campaign within my Northport setting. The population of Northport is quite mixed, having a large number of goblin artisans (the goblins have lived in the city since its founding a few thousand years ago), humans, orcs, and a fair amount of mixed folk, given the situation to the east, where the nation of Shevnia lost a war with orcs because of a lost…

#Artwork #Cultists #DFRPG #Dungeon Fantasy #GURPS #Kalima #play reports #wuxia #Ymid

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