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magnumversum · 2 years

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Dragons Part 1 of 3: The Dragons

Prologue

In a world of wolves and man, there also roamed dragons. Some dragons sought peace, while some sought war. There was a dragon who rose to especially high ranks: Ardin was his name. He rose to become the dragon god. But then he was overthrown. Since then the best of dragons feared him, while the most insidious, most sinister, most despicable of monsters respected him. There laid prosper when he died, until he was invoked again. Invocation of his name brings death.

“I’m so happy!” said Mariq. “To think I’ve been recruited into The Superpeople!”

“I’m proud of you,” Ezio gleefully replied.

“You are?”

“Yes,” replied Ezio. “I am very proud of what you’ve accomplished.” He looked into the stars, into the ever-brightening night skies. “My friend, Everaine, she’s calling me. Says we have a new recruit. I must head off.” Ezio smiled. “Good luck.”

“Much appreciated,” Mariq thanked.

Ezio said, “No problem. I really must be off now. Got an overdue meeting. Kept the client waiting. Everaine too. Can’t let them wait any more.” Ezio steadily hiked off into the foggy forests. Then Mariq roared. He let out a heroic roar louder than the whistles of the breeze.

“Weak roar, cutie.” Brancaff said. He flirtily went on, “My mother had a better roar.”

“Funny,” responded Mariq, annoyed.

“We need to go,” said Brancaff.

“Why?”

“The enemy dragon clan’s headed our way.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” Mariq cried. He lifted into the air, Brancaff soon following. “Let’s return to Mother Haleii!” They flew against the currents of the wind, rain starting to pour from the skies. Thunder vigorously roared. Lightning scorched the grounds ahead. The dragons lowered down into a cavern. The cavern was dimly lit, with torches scattered across the walls.

“Who’s there?” called Mother Haleii.

“It’s Mariq! Brancaff’s with me too!”

“Then settle in!” Mother Haleii appeared from te shadows. She was green and yellow, with red scars across her wings. “Hurry on now! The table is set!” Brancaff and Mariq took seats.

Mother Haleii asked, “So what happened?”

“Nothing much today- you?” Brancaff asked.

“Nothing much either.” Mother Haleii said.

Brancaff complained, “That’s the thing with us dragons. Whenever there’s not a fight, we’re practically useless. We need something. We need a purpose. That’s what we need.”

“There is something you can help us with,” stated Doctor Cosmos.

“What is that?” asked Mother Haleii.

“The moon and stars need our help. The universe is under attack by an evil energy known as dritchen. It swallows whatever comes into contact with it. The only way to combat this is-”

“How?” Brancaff cried. “How?”

Doctor Cosmos resumed, “-vesa. We can gather vesa using meditation, or we can visit the deity Utmus, god of vesa. He can provide us with the power we need to prevent the spreading of dritchen.” Doctor Cosmos revealed a photo to the widened eyes of the dragons. “This is what Utmos looks like. An incomprehensibly handsome god. Don’t be tempted by his looks.” Doctor Cosmos said, “He’s been known to charm his customers into forgetting why they visited him.”

“Meaning?”

“While he is good, he is manipulative. I’m just saying you should watch your mouths when talking to him. He’s immortal and a bit of a jokester.”

“Then we should make it quick,” said Mother Heleii.

“Let’s get going now so we can be back by sunset,” Doctor Cosmos replied.

“Get on my back.”

“On it again.” Doctor Cosmos climbed onto the mother dragon, as another perilous journey began. The storms now poured rain faster, steam exhausted from the dragons’ fiery scales. Doctor Cosmos shouted, “Your steam is burning me!”

“Quiet down!” she shouted back.

“I’m really getting burned up!” Then they left the skies. “I’m losing oxygen!”

Mother Haleii said, “You really didn’t think to bring an oxygen tank with you?”

Frustrated, Doctor Cosmos said, “This is really bad. But I can do it. I am Doctor Brian Cosmos-” A smoldering gun-metal gray bolide set aflame by the stratosphere, rocketing at threatening rates, cast an intimidating shadow from afar. “Meteor, twenty miles out!”

“I’ll handle it!” cried Mother Haleii. “Get me close!”

“We can’t! It’s too dangerous!”

“Trust me!”

Gawking at the meteor towards them, Doctor Cosmos shouted, “Nineteen miles… eighteen miles…”

Mother Haleii said confidently, “I’ve got this!” From her tongue spurt flames.

“Seventeen miles… sixteen miles…” Stars fizzled into darkness. “Fifteen miles… sixteen miles… fifteen miles…”

She cried again, “I’ve got this!” She roared, a flame spewing out.

“Fourteen miles…” said Doctor Cosmos.

“Thirteen miles… twelve miles…” said Brancaff.

“Eleven miles… ten miles… nine miles…” said Mother Haleii. She was rapidly approaching the meteor.

“Eight miles…” Doctor Cosmos said. “Seven miles… six miles… five miles…”

“Four miles… three miles…” said Mother Haleii. “Two miles… one mile…” She curled into the meteor with her tail.

“Now!” shouted Doctor Cosmos. The mother dragon spewed a steady current of fire upon the asteroid, reducing it to ashes floating in the midst of space. “What we’re looking for is beyond the stars.”

“That won’t be necessary!” Utmos hollered. “I believe I can provide you with the vesa you need to combat the dritchen energy.”

“Sounds fair. What’s the catch?”

“The catch is that there is no catch. I’ll transfer you the vesa, and you’ll be on your way.” Then Utmos explained, “I’m in a bit of debt with Ezio. I owe him something for a bet we made. Would you mind storing some of the dritchen energy in a vesa container and bringing some to me? I owe him the stuff for an experiment he’s doing.”

“How’d you suppose we do that?”

“I’ll craft one for you. You trap the dritchen in the container and pull down the seal. Then activate the safety mechanism to trigger the lock-”

“We have no time,” interrupted Mariq. “Supplement us with the vesa.”

Utmos muttered, “If you say so.” Glaring lights shone brighter than any star, as Utmos chanted, “Ardin, Lord of Dragons, I invoke you to my side, to present these creatures with the power they beg of you.”

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aandriskobold · 2 years

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Session 49 of The Bastard Knights

in which Larc is invited to the wrong kind of crab rave, Leech gets the best of both worlds, Kaze ponders the BIGGEST orb - and it ponders back.

- Habrok distracts Larc by showing him ghost crabs - "they live in the anenomes and they're very, very transparent, look closer and you will see them, it's such a sight" so that...

- The rest of the Bastard Knights can pull Polly aside to talk about Larc. She says he regrets his actions and stresses that it was an impossible choice between his own life and others' lives. Leech thinks the citizens of Sovatn deserve above all to know that it was Otamr who destroyed their city, Larc's role is less important. They also say they've always wanted to leave Sovatn.

- Ultimately, the Knights decide to take both Larc and Leech with them, leaving Habrok to handle the rebuilding of Sovatn and telling them to call us if anthing weird happens with the breach.

- To help Leech (a mermaid-like Triton) live on the land, Habrok cals on Amvara and Galma to give them legs (and graciously offers the rest of the party four legs each to boot; this kind gift is politely refused). Nothing happens, but when Leech climbs out of the water, rainbow scaled legs replace their tail.

- Habrok, with Kaze's bardic inspiration and Elinor's heroism, makes a passable speech to the citizens of Sovatn, ending with a bold "Sovatn will survive!" which is echoed by the crowds.

- As the party travels back up with the help of giant octopus Jurmenbol, the sea is much more inhabited than on the way down, and the others brief Leech on what to expect on the surface - "A wolf is like... a dogfish with legs. And fur."

- Back on the surface, the party astutely notices that the moon is four times bigger than usual. Polly and Larc dive below decks immediately.

- Glimpse, riding Pffr the horse, introduces herself to Leech with "I am a demon!" which is news to the rest of the party, too. Justice League identifies her as The Oracle, and she has some insight into what the fuck is up with the moon. She says it has stopped growing - for now.

- Kaze Sends a message to the moon - it goes through, but does not get a reply.

- Glimpse is from Xianmu, which is a huge snake made to eat the sun. Since humanoids are also just living in this jail, she doesn't see them as any different to the snake itself. Polly's birthmark is a character denoting a violation in the surface that could lead to where Xianmu is actually held.

- Kaze sends another message, telling it "We're all fine here, fuck off." In reply, they hear: [Error. Violation Detected. Orb Hit Compromised. Release Imminent.]

- Glimpse continues: Shijian, the god of destruction, hit the moon, breaking off parts that fell to earth and created the three breaches. The moon will destroy the earth.

- Kaze asks if the moon needs help turning around. It replies: [Error. Assistance Required. Release Imminent.] They remember the snake people from the dungeons of Castle Ardin, who talked of the earth cracking like an egg and the serpent being born.

- Larc says Otamr wanted more than anything for the world to be in fear, and if this is his work, then he is succeeding. It also fulfils "Ito's aspirations to uneggify the earth," (or, by releasing XIanmu, a creature of pure spite, he can create a new world, free of regret or consequence). Remembering Ito, Kaze contacts Mutayyim, who tells the party that the moon is sentient in the plane of Earth. The Knights remember Ri's intel from Castle Ardin - that Ito has a Yaoshi key forged in Kamingrad with the breath of the Golden Dragon Gerasim, which allows travel between dimensions, including Aeternum, a plane beyond the planet.

- The party now faces a decision - travel to Makao and Nyotawani to get to the planes that way, and try and talk to the moon; or travel to Tekiro and find either Ito or his associates, and use the Yaoshi to get to the planes and talk to the moon. Hopefully it will see the error of its ways and not crash into the earth!

#according to x #dnd #the bastard knights #TURNS OUT #IT WAS SCI FI ALL ALONG #SAEQUIS YOu BEAUTIFUL BASTARD

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jbsargent · 6 years

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Character Day - Blast Back [Original Fic Fest]

Hi! I wanted to try my hand at @originalficfest‘s Character Day event. I’m a little late, but I felt this was a good place for me to start!

This is a snippet from Blast Back, a dungeonpunk adventure story I’m writing episodically (hosted on my blog). As a little primer: four years ago, a young boy named Dylock was saved by Din from highway bandits, who had set upon and killed the rest of his family as they were moving to the city. Din was stabbed in the left arm from the fight, and has suffered with the injury since. Though not related, old man Din treats the boy as his own and tries to provide a good life to help him forge his own future.

***

A growing Dylock ran to the kitchen of the cozy townhouse he shared with the aging Din. Din had set a soup to cook in the early hours of the day, and now began pouring the broth, freckled with vegetables and small cuts of meat, into two wooden bowls with his right hand. Dylock came up to the old man’s side, and reached for the ladle in the pot.

“I can help, what do you want me to do?” Dylock asked.

Din brushed the boy’s hand aside, taking the ladle and filling up a bowl. “You can take that bowl with you, and sit.”

Dylock pulled the bowl from the counter, and stood back, waiting for Din. The old man set the ladle back in the pot, and took the remaining bowl in his hand before moving over to the quaint little table that took up much of the kitchen area. Dylock followed behind, waiting as Din settled into a seat at the table. The old man strenuously lifted his left arm, fighting back a grimace of pain as he did so, and rested it on the table next to his bowl. Dylock sat down on the side of the table, to Din’s left.

“How is it?” Dylock asked.

“Hm, same as always…” Din responded, glancing at his left hand.

“…it’s still there,” Dylock said, smiling.

Over the years since Din had saved the boy, his arm had lost some feeling to it, and couldn’t be raised very high without inflicting serious pain that Din would much rather do without. Some days, it hurt more than others.

“Let me know if there is anything I can help you with,” Dylock said.

“As of now, you can enjoy this fine soup I labored over a hot stove all day for, just for you,” Din said to the boy, lifting the spoon from the bowl and scooping up a small pool of steaming broth.

“But you were reading all day.” Dylock pouted.

“And sleeping in my armchair. ‘Ey now, don’t push the greens around, scoop them up too,” Din said.

Minutes passed with only the sounds of slurping and the subtle knock of wooden spoons on bowls. It was the boy who hesitantly broke the silence.

“I found a company tag in your coffer…” Dylock muttered.

The old man chuckled. “Hrm…what’s left of it. Sniffing about were you?”

Dylock slowly nodded his head, feeling guilty for rifling through his guardian’s effects.

“It’s okay, son…I’ve never known you to be a child to shy away from secrets,” Din said, smiling as he dipped his spoon into the warm soup. “You’ve yourself an adventurer’s spirit.”

Din opened his left hand, expecting something to be placed in it. Dylock reached into his pocket and dug out a small slab of metal on a thin chain. Dylock set it into the old man’s open palm, letting the chain drape over the back of his hand.

“Were you a knight?” Dylock asked.

Din stared longingly at the small, flat rectangular piece of metal engraved with information regarding the bearer of the tag; name, birthdate, company affiliation. This particular one, however, was badly damaged, half of it was missing completely, and another portion of it was illegible with scorch marks. All that could be made out was part of an indiscernible insignia, and ‘ardin’.

“Something like that,” Din replied wistfully.

Any sort of official combatant was registered with the Unified Realms Guild, who kept a record of those combatants to track company affiliations, movements, performance, and notify next of kin in the case of death. To some, wearing company tags around the neck represented the person’s quality, someone willing to fight for what they believed in, to be a hero to the people. Others, however, felt that company tags were the mark of an early and bloody death, a noose that slowly tightened around the wearer’s neck until their demise. Din, like so many others, started out believing the former, but through a long life of conflict eventually came to agree with the latter. To Din, company tags were to identify the dead, even if they still walked.

“It was quite a time ago, though. It’s a part of me I don’t much care to think about,” Din continued.

“What do you mean?” Dylock asked, choking down a spoonful of soup with a large vegetable in it. “You protected people, didn’t you? Are there no grand stories to tell?”

“There are many stories I could tell, but…not all of them are grand. They’re all just the stories of a survivor,” Din said.

“Surviving is good. It means you live to fight another day,” Dylock said as he smiled, thinking of his heroic days playing in the woods where he’d faced countless imaginary dangers.

“There is a saying: war doesn’t decide who is right, only who is left. The cost of surviving is sometimes steep, young one,” Din replied.

Din watched as Dylock’s brow rose in childlike confusion.

“Sometimes…to protect others means to make sacrifices, and sometimes…you will sacrifice more than you were ever willing to,” Din said sullenly. “Living to fight another day is no different. Oftentimes, others will die so you may live.”

Dylock nodded slowly, muttering, “I understand” as he scooped up another spoonful of soup. “Like my parents…”

“Correct. In the end, we can only carry on their names and remember them,” Din said.

“Is Din your full name?” Dylock asked.

“No…it’s a name I picked up over time; Reardin. It’s a moniker used by men who commit themselves to greater causes,” Din explained, sipping soup from his spoon.

“What is your real name, then?”

“It’s of little import now. I let go of the name my family gave me a long time ago. The man with that old name made many mistakes in his life, and I would rather distance myself from him. I’m a cowardly old man who runs from old problems…you, Dylock, were the first thing I’ve been proud of in a long while.”

“Do you not miss your family?” Dylock asked.

“Sometimes…but I’ve grieved over them long ago. You’re my family now, Dylock. You’re what is important to me,” Din said, smiling at the boy.

Dylock gulped down another spoonful, and happily smiled back. Din looked at the damaged company tag that sat in his left hand. He struggled to feel the metal against his palm, even when he clenched his fingers around the jagged, worn edges. Din sighed heavily, lost in thought over years gone by.

“Are you done with your meal?” the old man asked. “I’ve got something for you.”

Dylock, hearing there was something waiting for him, picked up his bowl and scooped the last bits of soup into his mouth. Dylock set down his bowl and motioned his head in a large nod, his cheeks still burgeoning with a mouthful of broth. Din chuckled watching the boy.

“Come along now.” The old man rose to his feet, sliding the damaged tag into his pocket with an aching left hand.

Dylock followed closely behind and the old man trudged up the creaky old stairs of their home.

“Dylock, I think it’s time you and I had a talk. I’m not going to be around forever,” the old man said.

“That’s impossible, sir. You’re the strongest man I know!” Dylock said in disbelief.

“Heh…do I look like that man from years ago who took you in?” Din asked, tiredly making his way up the stairs, using the railing heavily for support.

“Well…no…I guess not.”

“A time shall come when I will no longer be here for you, and you’ll have to plot your own course in life,” the old man said, turning at the top of the stairs, looking down at the boy. “My only regret is that I coddled you so.”

“Coddled me? You gave me a nice home. You took care of me. Sir, if not for you, I would have been left on the side of the road with my parents,” Dylock claimed. “You have been a great father to me.”

Din shuffled into his room, and Dylock followed. “Yes…but…I tried so hard to keep you from a life like the one I once lived. Now, in my old age, I understand the error of my ways – I understand now…that some things are just meant to be. You’re an adventurer at heart, Dylock, and it was wrong of me to keep you from that.”

The old man opened his closet door, and reached for a long object wrapped in a red cloth that leaned against the adjacent wall. “I know all about your little excursions in the woods,” he said.

“You know about that?” Dylock asked, slightly embarrassed.

“Of course, I know all too well the scrapes and blisters of venturous ten-year-olds, like yourself. Which is why…I’m gifting you this sword,” the old man said, presenting the wrapped gift to Dylock.

“Sir…I…” Dylock stammered, unwrapping the cloth around the weapon.

“The world is dangerous, this you know…I believe it’s time you had this,” Din stated.

Dylock pulled the blade halfway out of the sheath, admiring the mirror sheen of the steel as he saw the reflection of his own eyes. “Is this…to protect me? In your stead?” the boy asked.

The old man shook his head. “No…my boy. A sword is not for protection – it is for killing. I thought differently once, that a sword was for defending the weak, but inevitably it all leads to death.”

“But knights use swords, and knights protect people,” Dylock said.

“Knights protect people, yes…but their swords are used to fight. Remember, however, that your family was cut down by swords, wielded by bandits who cared nothing of people,” Din explained.

“You are right,” Dylock thought aloud, sheathing the sword.

“A sword is a tool, a means to an end. Knights are virtuous because they choose to be, just as bandits choose not to be.”

“Then I choose to be good. To protect people,” Dylock said, holding the sword in his arms, clutched across his chest. “My sword is going to be used for protecting others, just like you did for me.”

“Then the burden of taking or sparing a life is now yours, son,” the old man said, resting a tired hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Dylock wondered.

“Dylock…I know that you care deeply about making a difference,” Din began.

The young Dylock nodded hesitantly.

“But, you must remember that no matter what actions you take, lives can be lost. If you act, people can be lost, and if you do not act, they can still be lost. Lives have an intrinsic value to different people, and in time, it will be up to your discretion to decide what lives are more precious. Sometimes making a difference isn’t as important as making sure those you care about stay safe.

“One day, you will come to understand that sometimes the lives you value most are the necessary tender that must be paid for peace and happiness, and it will be up to you to decide whether you want to make that exchange,” Din said, lowering his weary body down onto his bed, glancing at Dylock as he reached for a folded parchment in his jacket pocket. “However, not everything I gift you today is struggle and hardship.”

Din handed the parchment to Dylock, who fumbled around to hold his new sword under his arm. Taking the letter, the boy unfurled it to read the contents.

“Sir…this is…an acceptance letter to the Luna Caeruleum Academy! You enrolled me?” Dylock said excitedly.

A large smile grew underneath Din’s beard. “If you wish, you’ll begin studying there next week.”

“Sir! This is…this is incredible! The academy has created some of the greatest adventure companies in Troima! The Ivory Spears! The Holy Shields! The Wyrm Strikers!” Dylock jubilantly shouted, waving both his sheathed sword and the acceptance letter.

“The Lionhead Corps, the Troubadours of Eidlewine, the Arcanum Shell Heaters,” Din added happily.

“Yes, them too! All of them! Sir…I am forever grateful to you. How can I ever repay you?”

“My boy, all you need to do for me is become the admirable man I know you can,” Din replied.

***

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, and I’d love to hear what you think!

#originalficfest #writeblr #dungeonpunk #writing #fiction #fantasy #blast back

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whimsicalworldofme · 6 years

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Say My Name

Rey and Ava have started their own Jedi school, teaching young adults in the ways of the Grey Jedi in an attempt to counter the fact that the First Order has been benefiting from the aid of the Knights of Ren. But when Ava insists on going to retrieve a student on a planet known to have First Order presence, Poe objects, and with good reason.

(This is the final piece of the puzzle that connected the fall of Luke’s school to the chapter in which Ava tells Kylo about their son. So to those of you who have been reading since I first posted that angsty Ben/Ava scene thanks for sticking it out!)

Word Count: 3098

Content Warning: Mentions of death and violence. None graphic.

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Poe held Ava close to him, his hands on her hips, their bodies so close together they might as well have been one person. No one else on the launch pad paid any attention to them. They were used to the Colonel, his wife, and their shameless displays of public affection. Anyone else in the area just worked around them and kept their mouths shut. In the last couple of months Ava had gone off to retrieve five Force sensitive teenagers and young adults to train with her and Rey. Things were going well in the lessons, despite her initial misgivings.

“You say that every time I go,” Ava smiled, giving him a soft kiss and brushing her fingertips through his hair. He’d started greying at the temples which she found she liked a lot. Life in the command room added to his stress and probably contributed to the silver hair and a few more lines in his brow and around his eyes. Ava’s going off planet probably didn’t help either.

“Well it’s true every time,” Poe gazed down at her with lingering concern, not bothering to mask it with a forced smile. “What if something happens to you?”

“And every time I remind you that anything can happen to any of us no matter where we are,” she replied cupping his face. “I will be back in two days. Luke will be here the whole time for your moral support. And when I get home,” she got up on her tip toes to whisper in his ear, “I’ll do that thing you like.”

Going back to the flats of her feet, Ava saw Poe’s face turning bright red as he licked his bottom lip and chuckled, stammering a little in a poor attempt to find a response. Her pilot, Benjamina, stood awkwardly off to the side, hands clasped behind her back, and cleared her throat. She had her long dreadlocks tucked under a scarf and was garbed in attire common to a desert dweller. Ava had on similar clothes, tan and dusty, but hadn’t tied on her scarf yet, planning to do so in the ship.

“Colonel,” she nodded to Poe who was still grinning like an idiot, before turning her attention to Ava. “Ma’am, we need to take off now if we’re going to keep on schedule.”

“Thanks, Benjamina,” Ava smiled. “I’ll be right there.”

The pilot nodded, turned on her heel and strode back into her ship. Ava put her hands on either side of Poe’s face, drawing him in for one more kiss goodbye.

“I love you,” she said before stepping back, his hold broken.

“I love you too,” Poe’s fingertips trailed along her hip as she stepped away.

In the ship, she took her seat and fastened in, looking at the faces of her team. They’d gone on every collection mission with her so far, so they knew the drill. Benjamina and Cassian, named for the famous Rogue captain, were their pilots. They always had to have two in case something happened to one of them. And then there was her security team, which Poe had insisted on, Ardin and Vala. Personally, Ava thought it would be easier for her to get the job done on her own, leaving her pilots in the ship and getting the new students herself. They had to meet in remote locations, secretive places where their discussions couldn’t be overheard. It required a level of stealth that three people in a group could never have compared to just one woman.

This particular mission was risky, Ava knew that when she volunteered to collect the girl from Bektrix. The First Order had established a presence there, but it was small still. Ava was a nobody, not a pilot or leader, just a cook. No one would recognize her, and no one would bother to see what she was up to. The Resistance had procured a ship, non-descript, untraceable, and small, for the sole use of Rey’s little project of gathering up Force sensitive students. Everything had gone all right on all the prior retrievals, so Ava felt confident this would be the same when they touched down some distance from the dusty, sand-blown city. The girl they’d come to retrieve was about seventeen years old, with dark midnight skin like Benjamina’s. She spoke of being confused how she could do the things she could. Her name was Eden and she held bright, earnest, passionate light in her grey eyes when she spoke of how she wanted to help free everyone of the tyranny of the First Order.

“We can train you,” Ava told her. They were in Eden’s home, a small two-story cob structure connected to a row of others just like it on either side. “But it will mean coming away. Your family can come and join the Resistance if they want, but it won’t be easy.”

“It’s just me and my mother,” Eden turned to look at the woman in the kitchen washing up from the tea she’d served their guests. She was older, frailer. Ava thought she must have had Eden very late in life. “She says she’s too old to pick up and leave her life behind. But she wants me to go.”

“And you’re ok with that?” Ava had to ask because emotional stability was key to success in training as a Jedi. “You might never see her again if you do. I want you to be aware that’s a real possibility.”

“I am,” Eden nodded, resolve set in her face. “My mother is ill. We’ve already said our goodbyes many times over. She wants me to use whatever this gift is to save other people.”

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll take you with us,” Ava didn’t know what else she could say. “We have to leave now if that’s the case. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Eden took a deep breath and got to her feet. Ava stood too, going to the door where Ardin and Vala waited. They always looked so stern and imposing, blasters at their hips, jaws clenched. Ava tried not to be nosy and watch as Eden hugged and kissed her mother goodbye. She felt a pang in her chest at the mother’s tears, knowing she would never see her daughter again. It made her think of Luke and his fears every time she left base and her fears over him getting more and more into his cadet training. He wanted to fight. She wanted the war to be over before he was grown enough to do so. She’d be happiest if he became a farmer, no danger, no risk, no violence.

Ardin advised Benjamina over the coded commlink that they were heading her way. Ava drew her scarf back over her hair when Eden walked to the door and ushered the girl out. They were almost out of the city when Ava felt something amiss. The hair on the back of her neck stood and she sensed a presence she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“Vala, get Eden to the ship,” she instructed quietly. They had orders not to question her if she demanded they split up. “Ardin, with me.” They split into pairs, trying to make it look as much as possible like they hadn’t been together to begin with. Adin and Ava went left, heading further into the city and Ava sensed someone following them but the other two were left alone.

“You there,” a Storm Trooper popped out in front of them at an intersection, blaster up. “What are you doing here? This is a restricted area.”

“Stand down,” a cool, woman’s voice came from behind and Ava’s stomach turned. She knew that voice. The last time she heard it, it had been a little higher in pitch from youth, but she knew it. And if the voice hadn’t given it away, the presence she felt through the Force did. “Turn around, Ava” the woman commanded.

Ava hoped and prayed that Ardin would keep his cool as they turned slowly, hands in the air. Standing a few feet away, robed in black, face marred with scars, brown hair buzzed short on the sides but braided down the middle, stood Renata. Ava had once considered her a friend, helped her practice the basics of Force control at Luke’s school. She held such a burning hatred in her gaze that Ava wondered why she didn’t shoot on sight or at least try to Force choke her.

“You look well for a dead woman,” Renata sneered. “The Supreme leader would be very interested to hear that you’re still alive…”

“I had a feeling you would’ve been one to go with Ben,” Ava shook her head. “You were always too ambitious for your own good.”

“Maybe I should do the Supreme Leader a favor and finish you now,” Renata raised a hand and Ava went to counter but Ardin reacted like a fool and drew his blaster.

“No!” Ava shouted as Renata used her raised hand to rip the blaster out of his hands and shot him with her own blaster using the other. Ardin dropped instantly and Ava reached out to the Force for strength as she threw Renata as hard as she could, sending the younger woman tumbling several yards. But she’d forgotten the Storm Trooper, remembering him too late as he knocked her out with a blow to the head from the butt of his blaster.

~ ~ ~

I have to get back home, Ava woke with a start in a holding cell, shackled to an interrogation chair. She took a moment to study the sparse metal walls, metal floor, and the two gleaming white bucketheads standing guard on either side of the door.

“She’s awake,” one of the troopers noted to the other who nodded and pressed the button to open the door, going out and shutting it behind him with a bang. They were clearly on a Star Destroyer. She could feel it. There was something about the fake gravity of a space ship and the whir of the engines that she had always been able to pick up on.

Think Ava, she didn’t worry about the binds on her hands for the time being. Before she even considered getting out of them she needed a plan. She had enough rudimentary piloting skills to possibly get back to the planet she’d been on, unless they’d traveled too far. How long was I unconscious? Her head hurt, and the bright white lights of the room weren’t helping. I could get to any planet. If I get a tie fighter or something small, slip out, they might not notice I’m gone for a while. I can activate my tracking beacon and get somewhere neutral until a more skilled pilot can pick me up. Or find a ride…

Her thoughts turned to Poe and Luke, knowing that Poe was probably demanding a rescue party be put together already. In her mind she could clearly see the pain in his beautiful dark eyes. She knew that Benjamina would have taken off back for base if she hadn’t returned within two hours. Those were the orders she’d given if she were ever captured. No looking for her, no half-assed rescue attempts. She had to find a way out of this to get home to her boys. She had sworn she wouldn’t use the Force. She didn’t want to take any chances that Kylo would catch a hint of her presence.

But what are the odds he’s nearby? Their fleet is massive. He’s probably not even on this ship.

She took a deep breath and licked her lips, feeling a bad split that must’ve happened when she fell. It was bleeding still, and she licked the blood away. Her whole body hurt and there would undoubtedly be bruises in an hour or two. She shut her eyes and waited, unsure what to do next. Renata was sure to be nearby. Since she had left her alive, Ava figured that she might want to at least try to extract some information out of her. She needed a plan before that happened.

The door schwicked open. Ava had no idea how much time had passed since she woke. She glared up at the door expecting Renata, only to find a different but familiar, imposing presence in the frame, stopping her heart. His thick black hair hung almost to his shoulders. She saw his scar in person for the first time, still astonished that he had managed to survive that fight. Ava knew he’d gotten it on Starkiller Base. Rey had told her about their duel. He stepped forward, towering over her. The door shut behind him and Ave felt her heart racing so fast now that it hurt. Her mouth had gone dry in her panic as well. But when she looked at Kylo, looked at his face, there was something there that astounded her; shock and an aching pain in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, and shut it again. Ava waited, silent, knowing that he probably had a million questions stampeding through his mind.

“Get up,” he commanded, undoing the bonds on her wrists with a wave of his hand. Ava got to her feet a little slowly, the pain of the day’s events catching up with her body. She noted a glint of concern in his eyes, but he didn’t act on it and she didn’t know if she’d want him to anyway. It passed as quickly as it had come. Once on her feet, Kylo grabbed her wrists and handcuffed her. Without a word he hooked a hand under her arm and led her out of the tiny cell.

He nearly dragged her through the ship, not even trying to go at a pace she could match. It reminded Ava of days in training when he’d get moody and she would try to cheer him up, but he’d just storm off. She always had a hard time keeping up and now her injuries made it more difficult. They came to a large room, still sparse, a few belongings, a bed, a table. Ava gaped at the calligraphy set he’d kept in his hut. She realized they were in his personal quarters. But a firm shove snapped her out of her wondering confusion. Kylo loosened his hold and studied her with a furrowed brow and intensity from a slew of emotions lighting his hazel eyes. She could see the gears turning in his mind.

“You were dead. Your presence…it was gone.

Ava didn’t say anything, she just looked around the room, completely confused as to why he’d brought her there of all places. Small signs of Ben, especially that calligraphy set, permeated everything in his personal space. Anyone who didn’t truly know him wouldn’t ever know it, wouldn’t pick up on it. She couldn’t think of anything to say. This was the last place she wanted to be, and she had already begun putting up walls in her mind so that if he went probing around he couldn’t see everything.

“You cut yourself off from the Force,” he concluded. He looked like he was mentally berating himself for not realizing that sooner. “That’s why I couldn’t sense you anymore.”

“You’re the one who wanted me dead,” Ava stated. “I gave you what you wanted.”

“I saved you!” Kylo snarled, his face twisting up in anger.

“What?” Ava tried not to think too much about the events of that night, but she knew that he had pulled her hut down on her, that she should have died. Everyone else had died more gruesome deaths, cut down by the fiery blade of his corrupted saber.

“You were the only survivor, weren’t you?” He was harsh, but Ava nodded. “Did you really think that was an accident? A coincidence?”

She had, actually.

“Why am I here?” She looked around and wondered if she could sit somewhere. But she wasn’t about to try it. This wasn’t the place to get comfortable. “I don’t know anything.”

“You do know something,” Kylo squinted at her with a nod. “Renata said she found you with a Resistance fighter. You’re still Resistance. I can sense it. Of course, you are,” he sneered. “You wouldn’t leave your…family,” he put so much derision in the word that Ava wondered which memories from their shared past he was battling. He lumbered over to the desk, grabbed the chair and banged it down next to her. “Sit.”

Ava didn’t even flinch in the wake of his rage. She had seen his temper as children. She knew it stemmed from his own fear, his own insecurities. Shaking her head, she refused the seat, despite wanting one. Instead she held her arms out in front of her.

“Are these necessary?” She nodded at the handcuffs. “Do you really think I’m enough of a threat to warrant them? I know they took my blaster off me. And you know you’ve always been stronger in the Force. For kriff’s sake, Ben.”

He flinched when she used his name, his whole face contorting with an indistinguishable mix of emotions. With a scowl, he removed the cuffs and tossed them aside. He stepped forward, getting uncomfortably close, staring down at her, his brow furrowed, biting the inside of his cheek.

“What were you doing on Bektrix?” He demanded. Ava squinted up at him, scrutinizing him, trying to examine his thoughts, his feelings. The conflict she felt was agonizing. “Stop that,” he snarled, stepping back, recoiling almost as though she’d struck him. “What were you doing on Bektrix? What does the Resistance want there?”

“You can’t even say my name,” Ava realized. “You really did think I was dead all this time. And now you can’t process the fact that I’m not.”

“Shut up!” Kylo snarled, his hand going up reactively, binding Ava in place as he glared at her. “You will tell me what you were doing on Bektrix!”

“Mind tricks don’t work on other Jedi, Ben,” she reminded him gently, thinking back to that day in the cave, knowing he was prodding around in her mind already. If she could throw the past at him, send him off balance, she might be able to get the upper hand.

“I will get the information I require,” he stared her down, a curt nod, his lips set, eyes wild. He stepped closer, his hand nearing her temple as he pressed into her mind.

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nxbulousbounds · 7 years

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so ive got some replys to work through, but someone else is buying me dinner tonight and im in a fantastic mood, so like this for a lil reverse starter call! i’ll be using my underused muses for this one! (aka ardin, io, aline, erin, orion, will, max, or abram)

#indie smut rp #indie lesbian rp #indie gay rp #indie bi rp

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captainextremis · 7 years

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Tumblr’s fucked up the res on this thing so check the image in full screen if u want the good stuff.

Anyway, a little RTS game came out recently called “Tooth and Tail.” Basically, it boils down to an excuse to make a game about war and cannibalism in a Russian Revolution setting. Is gud gaem.

So naturally, I’m starting a fanfic of it. Kill me.

The Road to Hell, Part 1

Under thundering skies, the rain poured down on the cold stone of the pathways cutting in between the chapels and apartments of Levacaloo. The water washed down the stone spires, as cold and uncaring as those who feasted and left the rest to starve. But soon, that mindset would be no more. Bellafide would make sure of it.

Although he hated getting his coat wet or otherwise dirty, he hated the clergy more, and couldn’t wait to see their terrified faces as he stormed into their sacred chapels when they had gorged themselves, and were too fat to run away. His scowl became more set into his brow. And then we feast on them.

“Heyyy, uh...boss…?”

Arroyo shot a glance to his right. A ferret marched alongside him, toting his mobile artillery launcher on his back. He pursed his lips and continued, “...You okay…? You look more...angry...than usual.”

Arroyo brought his gaze forward. “No, no, Ardin. Not angry. Just...determined,” he replied. No one else would talk to him; there was nothing to discuss. The Longcoats had entrenched themselves in The Bonepits using the piles of bones left behind by the many feasts as barriers, hidden traps, and even their own warrens. Arroyo knew that after this, there was no returning from the path he set himself and his army down. But he felt no regret, or even uncertainty. He was doing this for Junior. He might not have been able to give his son a proper funeral, but he could certainly give him a proper sendoff.

The army strode up more of the dozens of stone stairways until they found a flatter stretch of land, covered in bullet hives. Above, Arroyo could see the silhouettes of the falcons circling overhead. He stopped and retreated a few steps, just to be sure he and his men weren’t in their range of vision. Arroyo, the Freight Union, the Distillery Brothers, and his own Wing Demons.

He looked around. His troops were crouching down on the steps, some huddled together, some looking up into the sky. A few of the squirrels were taking extra shots from their bottles of orn. Arroyo huffed and motioned for everyone to get as close as possible. “Whatcha need, boss? Whatcha want us to do?” one of the Brothers asked.

“All of you boys,” he said, pointing to the squirrels, “stay back. The Freight Union will fire on the bullet hives the Civilized. You stay behind them and harass the Wing Demons.”

“Thought that was our job, sir,” said one of the falcons, landing on the ground a few feet to Arroyo’s right.

“It is,” he replied, “We need to get into the feasting halls as fast as lightning while taking as few casualties as possible. Once that happens…” Arroyo trailed off.

Another ferret grinned. “Once that happens, we eat,” he cried.

This remark was met with wild cheering, and Arroyo knew that if the Wing Demons didn’t hear it first, his army would get too impatient and charge without him. So with that in mind, Arroyo stood himself up and with steely will, marched forward. His troops followed him happily, and a few of the more inebriated squirrels started firing their revolvers at the opposing falcons while they were still dozens of feet away. And once they had the Civilized’s attention, they kept it.

“It’s the traitor! Don’t let them through! All fighters, fire at will!” One of the falcons issued their orders, and soon, the rain stopped falling on the ground, because it was all being blocked by hundreds of falcons, flying right at the Longcoat army that stood in defiance of them and all they stood for.

Many of the Wing Demons dipped low and the machine guns started firing as they began conducting hit and run tactics. It was successful, at the start, as they killed off a majority of the squirrels who were too drunk to know what was happening, as well as killing a few more ferrets. However, once Arroyo’s Wing Demons came in, the Civilized soldiers were too busy dealing with them to focus fire on the ground forces.

Arroyo looked up at the dogfight, and the few bodies that were falling every so often. He had to slap a few wrists to keep his soldiers from dragging the carcass away immediately and getting distracted of course, but otherwise, he marched forward with the Freight Union and the remaining Distillery Brothers at his side. He outpaced his army and the first line of machine guns began firing at him, but the ferrets all started launching dozens of volleys at the encampments, and one by one, the bullet hives crumbled.

The Longcoats marched forward, through ever thicker machine gun fire. Those who hadn’t died from being riddled with bullets were, at the very least, bleeding profusely from seven or more puncture wounds; not even Arroyo was exempt from this rule.

He clutched at his arm, shot in three places just below the shoulder. He and his soldiers had pushed through most of the lines of machine guns, but he could see, coming over the hill, that their battle wasn’t done yet. The Morning Light Croakers hopped fervently over the hills, croaking a litany of prayers and curses on Arroyo’s name. He looked down at his shoulder and grunted, “I’ve been hit harder,” before running ahead.

“Forward…!”

Bellafide’s rallying cry called his troops of squirrel pistoliers and ferret artillery back to his side, instilling the resolve that only the leader of the Longcoats could give. In a wave of shouting, they surged forward through the unrelenting hail of bullets, a glint of hunger in each and every one of their eyes. The Longcoats met the Civilized forces and while the initial clash allowed some of the toads to blow themselves up safely, most after that were no more than bloody paste on the ground before the fuse could even hit powder.

Archimedes stood on the steps of one of the ancient buildings that surrounded the Monastic Gardens, gazing out solemnly at the darkened sky, lit periodically by the dull orange of muzzle flashes and black-powder explosions in the distance. He sighed deeply.

He had warned them, all of them. The lower clergy had simply waved him off and continued feasting. Archimedes snorted, wiped his brow, and marched down the steps with the few pigeons, skunks, and toads he could muster. “Follow,” he commanded in his aging, raspy voice.

“Great Missionary,” a toad by his side croaked as he hopped in stride with Archimedes, “you haven’t told us your plan to drive the traitors out.”

Archimedes sighed as he kept marching. “Ah, my child...my plan was not to drive the Longcoats away in the first place,” he explained. “We are simply going to try and kill as many of them as possible, so that we may still feast in the desert.”

“Wffr mmgkin uffghtn rtruht?” a skunk mumbled.

“Take your mask off, my son, no one can understand what’s coming out of your mouth.”

The AFB soldier promptly lifted his mask up and restated his question. “We’re making a fighting retreat?”

Archimedes turned his head and deadpanned. “Not a retreat. A debilitating skirmish.” They marched forward along the stone paths until they came to an area on the main roads that still needed some defenses. Archimedes immediately set about planting Tremormines at the foremost chokepoints, two narrow pathways between the piles of bones.

He returned to his followers, still standing at attention and alert. All that was left to do was wait, and the Longcoats made sure they didn’t wait long. They heard the numerous boots hitting the pavement before they even saw any blue peek the sightlines, but once they so much as saw the bushy tail of one of the Distillery Brothers, Archimedes cried out, “Strike!”

Dozens of skunks began launching gas directly on top of them, and Archimedes instructed his troops to move forward and fire back. They did so, lobbing gas volleys over and over. As to be expected from the traitors, they pushed forward and into Archimedes’ territory, and were hit with both the explosions of four Tremormines, two on each chokepoint, and multiple suicide runs from the Morning Light Croakers. Their sacrifices yielded large chunks of meat that the pigeons and skunks would try to drag away as quickly as they could while still firing their weapons; some of them died that way.

Archimedes had little, if any, time to strategize. He had to focus on killing as many of the Longcoats as possible. In theory, it would be simple, considering Arroyo had so many troops on his bankroll. However, that was also the problem, as hundreds more ferrets and squirrels came streaming into the narrow entrance to the Civilized section of the Bonepits, supported by hit-and-runs by dozens of falcons left over from the initial attack. They swooped in from the darkened skies, firing their guns as brazenly as possible, bullets riddling the ground just as much as their targets.

The toads continued throwing themselves at the Longcoats’ front lines, detonating and sending dozens of conscripted soldiers to black-powder graves while The AFB troops shot gas bombs into the chokepoints. The Longcoats marched through, and some ended up choking to death.

This didn’t stop the tide, however. The Longcoats simply kept coming, and it became obvious to Archimedes that he would have to retreat sooner, rather than later. “Hold!” he called as he marched out. He directed the toads to stand in position at the forefront, allowing them to run a shorter distance before detonating themselves, and built several backup warrens to allow The AFB and the Volunteers to resupply as needed. Under the constant hail of gunfire, it was a difficult task, but it was done. Archimedes stood outside the last warren he could make as the Operators swiftly built it up from the ground. “Excellent,” he muttered to himself, “This will buy me time…”

“Great Missionary!” Archimedes brought his head up and nearly jumped out of his skin. A pigeon fluttered down and perched on the warren, which was being reinforced at this point. “The Longcoats just...just keep pouring in! What are your orders?”

He was silent for a moment, but spoke with whatever wisdom he could muster in a pitched battle. “Child, you must hold as long as you can. Pass these words along to the rest of the Civilized forces,” he articulated.

As he turned around to plan a fast escape route, the pigeon asked again, “What about you, Great Missionary? What will you be doing?”

“Ah…” He paused, then quickly explained, “I will venture out to see if there are any other Civilized who yet live, and I will return to reinforce our numbers.” The pigeon nodded intensely and then flew back to the front lines with a retreating call of “Come back quickly, sir!”

Archimedes watched her go and sighed in relief. Then, he ran. He ran in the opposite direction as fast as he could. After all, a few hundred soldiers could be replaced easily; loyalty was relatively cheap these days, going for three meals a day and a roof over one’s head. His own life, however, was the only thing keeping the Civilized together. Him, and Sage Marro. He tore through The Bonepits, the thunder of distant gunfire still ringing out across the city. Archimedes was only thankful that the Longcoats hadn’t pushed further in, as getting into the countryside would be easy, even without the use of the Warrens. He just had to run a bit further…

He rounded a corner, and saw only a pole swing out to meet him. Archimedes felt it hit him in the face before it actually landed, and he was sent backward, and sprawled out on the ground. There was no time to even come to grips with the pain, as Bellafide himself, who had been waiting for the Great Missionary to show his crooked face, proceeded to roar with a fury long-repressed, and swung his own flag again in an overhead strike, determined to break Archimedes’ skull open. Archimedes countered as fast as he could, holding up his own flag to block the blow.

Arroyo was so dead set on choking the life out of Archimedes that he didn’t expect the old coot to kick him in the stomach, sending him stumbling back when the wind got knocked out of him. It allowed Archimedes to struggle to his feet, coughing and trying to numb the throbbing pain in his temples by sheer force of will as he jogged away as fast as he could.

Naturally, when Arroyo saw that, he wasn’t having any of it. “You’ll pay for what you did to my son, you hypocrite!” he yelled after Archimedes. He charged forward, still screaming, but his hatred blinded him to the fact that Archimedes might not be done. Despite the beatdown, Archimedes turned around and used that momentum to swing his banner in a wide arc. It smashed into Bellafide, sending him careening to his left and smashing into a pile of bones. They came down like an avalanche.

Arroyo was far from dead, or even out cold, but his vision was blurry, the world was spinning, and he could feel his nose bleeding. All he knew for certain was that Archimedes, from where he was standing was smiling. It wasn’t the smile of a kind minister either; it was the condescending smile that the Civilized wore whenever a new course was chosen for the Harvest. “I have seen what you have become,” he said, “and it is delicious. I can’t wait to savor it one day.”

Before Arroyo could stammer out a counter, Archimedes had run off. He couldn’t say he was surprised; the Civilized might have a garrison under their jurisdiction, but the clergy would never fight for themselves. He eventually regained the strength to stand up, brush his coat off, and look back into the horizon, filled with smoke and dimming fires rising up over the piles of bones. He grinned mirthlessly.

They had a garrison, at least.

As he stared back at the chaos unfolding behind him, he felt nothing inside but a burning determination to end the war before it could even gain momentum. He pivoted and marched out of Levacaloo, leaving the Longcoats to feast on what remained of his army. He knew, however, they wouldn’t set foot in the Gardens yet. The rest of the clergy would keep them full long enough for him to regrow his follower count.

#tooth and tail #pocketwatch games #arroyo bellafide #bellafide #archimedes #the longcoats #the civilized #tooth and tail fanfic #feedback appriciated

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liianaheartley · 4 years

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OUT OF CHARACTER

* YOUR NAME / ALIAS: Laurie

* GENDER / PRONOUNS: She/Her

* YOUR AGE: 21

* TIME ZONE: EST

* ACTIVITY LEVEL: I would say 6/10? It really depends on the type/length of replies or what I’m up to. I’m a grad school student and I’m a full time research assistant so things can get very hectic without further warning. I try, at best, to get at least one reply a day during my busiest periods. I queue my replies usually and I’m online mostly during the evening and at night. Otherwise, I’m easily reachable through IMs and I actually lurk on the dash pretty much all day long.

* PAST EXPERIENCE: I have been writing and role playing for 10 years, I would say? Yes, that sounds accurate. I started writing on a French platform and then gave Facebook a go where I had plenty of characters and plots for a couple of years. I have been more serious with it since 2015, and before joining group rps again, I did a ton of 1x1s (mostly fandomless or AUs). I am currently a part of vestahqs where I play 3 muses, Clémentine, Sapphire and Karyanne. The previous group I was in closed.

* ANYTHING ELSE?: I speak French and English is my second language (hence why this is the same scenario for my character), so I can make a lot of typos. I try to proof read as much as possible but there is only so much I can do when I write my replies at 3 am! I try my best, though! Also, I have severe anxiety and social anxiety, so sometimes it can be hard for me to be creative on a bad mental health day. I try my best, again! And I’m very open about it, so if some partners are expecting threads, I will give them a warning. I also try to message as many people as possible for plots, so while i can get more comfortable with a handful of people, I still try to reach out. I have had some terrible experiences in group role plays, so I know what to not to in order to be the best partner that I can! Also, I will not request the link to the ooc discord, but the ooc group is fine for me! (Oh and I ramble a lot... I’m sorry!)

IN CHARACTER

* CONNECTION: Ardin Hirsch’s ex-wife

* FACE-CLAIM: Anne Hathaway

* CHARACTER NAME: Geneviève Saint-Laurent / Rosabelle Callaghan

* GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis female, She/Her

* DATE OF BIRTH & AGE: December 31st 1982, 37 years-old

* PLACE OF BIRTH: Québec, Canada

* NEIGHBORHOOD: Lafayette Square

* LENGTH OF RESIDENCY: Two years

* OCCUPATION: History teacher at Lafayette Community College

BIOGRAPHY

While there is no maximum length for your biography, we ask that it’s at least 600 words long. As stated in our guidelines we won’t accept any rape, incest or pedophilia story lines and backstories.

* TRIGGERS: Please include and mention your biography trigger warnings here. These will be posted along with your biography when it’s posted.

* BIOGRAPHY:

PERSONALITY

* POSITIVE: Compassionate, dedicated & lively.

* NEGATIVE: Relentless, loose-tongued & opinionated.

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euroman1945-blog · 6 years

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The Daily Tulip

The Daily Tulip – News From Around The World

Monday 4th June 2018

Good Morning Gentle Reader…. Just like clockwork another Monday has arrived, it only seems like only six days ago we had one… Warm breeze blowing from Africa just 20 kilometers across the water, Bella lift’s her head and sniffs can’t have been very interesting, she moves on .. and so must I, thoughts of all the things I have to do run through my head and as if she understand, Bella pulls for home, the start of another Monday…

ICELAND'S PAGAN ZUIST RELIGION HOPES TO BUILD TEMPLE…. Members of a pagan Icelandic religious movement based on ancient Sumerian beliefs are set to get a temple in the capital of Reykjavik, it's been reported. According to the Iceland Monitor news website, Zuists - people belonging to a modern pagan religious movement based on the Sumerian religion - have applied for permission to build a two-story "Ziggurat" as a centre for their growing congregation. Zuism is a relatively new faith; it was registered as an official religion in Iceland in 2013, and over 2,800 people are members. Zuist leader Águst Arnar Ágústsson told the paper that the group had always planned to have a place of worship for its followers, but given the movement's rapid expansion in Iceland, this had grown all the more urgent. He says the movement needs space for name-giving, weddings and general worship, as well as "beer and prayer" meetings. Iceland Monitor says that a surge of attraction in Zuism may be because members do not have to pay parish fees. Registered Zuists - also known as Zuistar - are being asked, instead of paying old-school parish fees, to contribute to a Ziggurat Fund to help build and maintain the planned temple. Some may also have been drawn to ancient Sumerian beliefs through their worship of the 1984 film Ghostbusters, yet might be disappointed to find that Zuism recognises no Zuul, and no Gozer the Gozerian, and that civilisation is unlikely to be destroyed by a giant marshmallow man. The movement claims its belief system is the oldest in the world, and is based around the Sumerian pantheon in that it recognises An, Enlil, Enki and other deities as worshipped in ancient Mesopotamia…

BALLET AND FOOTBALL COLLIDE ON THE RUSSIAN STAGE…. One Russian city is to get a different view of the 2018 FIFA World Cup with a football-based ballet celebrating the "Beautiful Game", but at least one critic isn't impressed. Ufa, a city of more than one million inhabitants in Bashkiria on the Volga river, was overlooked for football's major event, but will instead host the premiere of "On Football", the Vesti.ru news website reports. The World Cup will take place in Russia between 14 June to 15 July, but FC Ufa's 15,000 seat Neftyanik Stadium, a model of mid-table respectability in the Russian Premier League, was not deemed worthy of inclusion. Instead, the action will be at the city's Bashkir Theatre on 30 June, where the ballet's organisers claim there will be "passions worthy of Shakespeare on the stage", as well as scenes from the game.

SWEDISH SHEEP BREACHES ROYAL PROTOCOL…. The Swedish army has re-raised a regiment on the island of Gotland to counter any Russia threat from across the Baltic Sea, but during the official ceremony, its new sheep mascot stole the show by interrupting King Carl XVI Gustaf as he addressed the troops. The P18 Gotland Regiment was disbanded in 2005, but the government decided to re-establish it in 2015. One task was to recruit a local sheep to follow in the hoof-prints of the four previous mascots, all called Harald, Swedish public radio reports. Harald I served from 1979 to 1988, rising to the rank of honorary corporal before retiring, according to the local Helagotland news site. And the latest Harald was chosen from a highly competitive field, as the regiment's commander Mattias Ardin reported on Twitter. All the Haralds have been Gotland sheep, a breed descended from the vädur - a "symbol for both Gotland and the regiment", regimental chief of staff Hans Håkansson told Swedish radio. The ancient breed is famous for both males and females with dramatic curled horns. They have featured on regimental standards since 1811, and still appear on the sleeve insignia to this today, But the latest incarnation broke with protocol when he interrupted the King at the re-dedication ceremony on Gotland this week. Carl XVI Gustaf had called on the soldiers and their co-workers "to always to do your best to protect the core values upon which the Swedish nation and its armed forces rest", prompting an emphatic bleat, perhaps of approval, from the new mascot at the word "co-workers", Swedish radio reports.

MOSCOW STATIONS GET WORLD CUP SELFIE SPOTS…. World Cup visitors arriving at Moscow railway stations will not have to look far for the perfect spot to take a selfie, as platforms and ticket halls will soon have special labels marking out the ideal camera angle. Green stickers of a camera image adorned with a smiley and the words "photography allowed" will be rolled out across nine mainline railway stations, in time for this summer's football World Cup in the Russian capital, Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper reports. There will be an average of 20 stickers per station, and at nine centimetres (four inches) in diameter they will be easily visible, according to the Moscow mayor's office. They will mark out prime spots in waiting rooms, business centres, on platforms, and in front of the main entrances. The Moscow department of Russian Railways says the aim is to "encourage amateur photography, and allow tourists and passengers to take that first beautiful picture right after stepping off the train". There are already some stickers on the platforms of Moscow underground stations, and the flagship Moscow Central Circle line will get 190 of the green camera labels this week, the Mayor's office said. "Many Moscow Central Circle stations are located in the historic city centre, and provide the perfect camera angle for memorable photos," according to the railway press office. Moscow is expecting an influx of fans for the World Cup on 14-15 July, and railways stations are gearing up to hand out maps and guidebooks to those who choose to arrive by train - primarily at the Kazan and Leningrad terminuses. The official attitude to railway photography has changed dramatically since Soviet times, when stations were treated as strategic sites, and unwary snappers often ended up having uncomfortable conversations with secret policemen.

Well Gentle Reader I hope you enjoyed our look at the news from around the world this, Monday morning… …

Our Tulips today are just in case you thought it was "Hot Air"...

A Sincere Thank You for your company and Thank You for your likes and comments I love them and always try to reply, so please keep them coming, it's always good fun, As is my custom, I will go and get myself another mug of "Colombian" Coffee and wish you a safe Monday 4th June 2018 from my home on the southern coast of Spain, where the blue waters of the Alboran Sea washes the coast of Africa and Europe and the smell of the night blooming Jasmine and Honeysuckle fills the air…and a crazy old guy and his dog Bella go out for a walk at 4:00 am…on the streets of Estepona…

All good stuff....But remember it’s a dangerous world we live in

Be safe out there…

Robert McAngus #robertmcangus #tulips #travel

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