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takusan-no-ai · 1 year

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Dragon’s Den

PAIRING: Nuada x Female Reader (Romantic) (Dragon Leader)

SUMMARY: Nuada crosses paths with a legendary dragon tamer.

The Troll Market was thriving in business like never before. Countless individuals shoved past each other in a frenzy; Nuada had never seen such excitement. “Mr. Wink, why on earth is there such a commotion today?” He asked his troll friend. Mr. Wink shrugged his shoulders.

Nuada followed the crowd, everyone making way for him. Before him was a cage, metal spikes, and a showman. He reeked of sewage. Above him was a giant sign, colorful flickering lights illuminating a name. “Than, the great Monster Hunter? What kind of foolery is this?” Nuada wasn’t pleased with the display in front of him.

The showman, Than, grasped a megaphone and roared, “Today I, the great Than, will be showcasing to you a future human killing machine! Everyone give a hand to the baby Deathgripper!” The crowd grew wild, everyone cheering and stomping loudly. A woman, hidden in a cloak, walked up next to Nuada.

“Disgusting, isn’t it? To use such creatures, innocent ones who want nothing more than to survive. To forcibly train them into human killing machines”–she looked towards Nuada–“if you’re going to hate humans, it’s more honorable to kill them yourself, right?”.

“I for one detest humans, so I can’t say I agree. I’m just disgusted that a game is being made of such a serious matter.” The woman wasn’t pleased with Nuada’s response and turned away in a huff.

“I thought you would’ve been different…”. Nuada didn’t acknowledge her comment and marched towards the stage.

“Any one of you could own this little killer if you pass the challenge!” Than skipped around the crowd wildly.

“I accept the challenge,” two hands rose in the air, one being Nuada’s, and the second being the woman’s.

“Why do you care about the dragons?” She asked him. The crowd grew silent, awaiting the answer. Nuada stared her down.

“Because it could prove useful to me”. The woman scoffed at his answer, removing her hood to reveal herself. Everyone gasped at the sight of a human in the Troll Market. “You…! You’re a human scum!” Nuada stomped towards her.

“And you’re an elf bastard. You claim to love the earth and it’s creatures, yet you’d gladly see the world burn if it meant humans were eradicated.” She threw the cloak on the ground, now standing in Viking like clothing; some of it even appeared to be dragon armor, something Nuada took note of.

“Well, well, well. It seems we’ll be having a fiery show today folks! Perhaps friends turned to enemies, or is this mysterious woman an old fling of Prince Nuada Silverlance–”

“I am (Y/N). Keeper and Ruler of the dragons. Protector of all dragon kind”–she brandished her sword, it lighting on fire in an instant–“and killer of all dragon hunters”. She pointed her sword directly at Nuada. “You are a prince? I knew the elves loved earth, but to think the most hypocritical one would be ruler of the elves…maybe I ought to add the elven race to my list of enemies,” she taunted.

Nuada swiftly charged his spear towards (Y/N)’s neck, but she blocked it. “Alright now you two, I haven’t even explained the challenge,” Than interrupted their spar. He looked towards (Y/N). “Though I must ask, you said you’re a killer of all dragon hunters, that right? Someone like you?” Than slowly walked towards (Y/N).

“I can feel eyes on me…ones with the intent to kill.” Nuada used his spear to block a bullet shot towards him. Than started laughing maniacally, charging towards (Y/N) with a mace in hand. She sliced him in half, his corpse burning from the flame of her sword.

“It seems your company has made me an enemy of your enemy,” Nuada glared at (Y/N). She only shook her head in response, reaching her hand up in the sky. “What are you doing–” Nuada was silenced by loud thuds echoing throughout the market. A staff bursted through the walls, landing in the hands of (Y/N). Nuada continued to block incoming attacks, “I can’t afford to focus on her well-being.”

(Y/N) slammed her staff down, incapacitating all of the enemies in an instant. Nuada froze in his attack stance, flabbergasted. “How…did a lousy, good-for-nothing, human…do all that,” he looked her in the eyes. “That…was passable,” he insulted her, walking away.

She slung the sword over her shoulder. “I thought you wanted the dragon!” Nuada just walked away faster. “Weirdo,” she mumbled under her breathe. (Y/N) freed the baby Deathgripper from its cage. The beast curled up in the furthest corner, shivering in the fear.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Those evil hunters can’t get you. And that mean old prince is gone too.” The Deathgripper laughed and slowly inched it’s way up to (Y/N). “There we go. You’re almost there little one.” She opened up a basket-like pouch and let the Deathgripper hop in.

(Y/N) exits the Troll Market and makes the long journey back to her hidden utopia for dragons. Gigantic trees surrounds that land, clean blue water flowing down a stream with many creatures, great and small, living in harmony. “Here you go. I’ll have to leave you here. I’ve got some important business to do, so stay here where it’s safe,” she places the Deathgripper on the ground floor and leaves.

Days later she sneaks into a popular restaurant, said to house the best exotic meat. Little did these humans know they were feasting upon dragon flesh. “Places like this should burn,” she said. (Y/N) snuck her way into the kitchen, disguised as a chef, and made her way down into the basement. Her informant told her that this was where the dragons were being stored; they were all babies, since anything bigger would be to hard to transport.

“Huh?” (Y/N) heard loud noises coming from the other room. Upon closer inspection she could smell blood. She opened the door, weapon in hand, only to find that there were mountains of hunter bodies on the floor. “Nuada!” She called out. He was killing each hunter, every hit thrown elegant in a way.

She was so caught up in his fight that she didn’t notice the hunter sneaking up behind her. “Aaargh,” the hunter’s battle cry caught both (Y/N) and Nuada’s attention. He quickly threw his sword right through the hunter head. She slowly walked towards Nuada.

“Thank you–” she didn’t get to finish her sentence as Nuada walked passed her and pulled his sword out of now deceased hunter’s skull.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you.” Nuada tried to walk away, but (Y/N) latched onto his hand.

“Why did you come here? You–You did it for the dragons!” (Y/N) smiled. “I knew you cared!” She danced around in place.

“No. I’m just doing what’s right…,” Nuada said so, yet even he didn’t seem to believe his own words.

“How did you even know where to look?” She asked him. Nuada pulled out a sheet of paper, titled “Bureau For Paranormal Research And Defense,” (Y/N) repeated aloud. She gave him a confused look.

“My associate, Tom Manning, over heard me speaking of our encounter and stated that he wanted me to recruit you. I had a hard time finding you again, so I’ve just been doing this until then.” Nuada seemed almost displeased with even mentioning the man’s name, let alone calling Tom his associate.

“He’s a human, isn’t he?“ Nuada begrudgingly nodded. “An elf prince, that hates humans, and loves everything non-human, is working with humans to protect everyone; nonhuman and human alike.” (Y/N) tried to stifle a giggle but failed.

He puffed up his chest and stared at (Y/N) as if he was looking down on her, “Actually, I work alongside other nonhumans.”

“I bet most of them are still human though,” (Y/N) persisted, much to Nuada’s annoyance. “Okay. I’ll join. I want to protect my dragons, and if joining forces with the “B.P.R.D” is going to help me do so, then so be it!” She said enthusiastically.

Nuada’s face started to feel warmer as he smiled slightly. “What? Are you excited to work alongside me?” She teased. Nuada grumbled and left the premises. “I guess I’m moving all these guys on my own.”

She examined the paper Nuada had given her the next day. “The address isn’t too far from here, so that’s pretty convenient.” She finally made it to the front gate, and after confirming her identity, she was led down into the secret headquarters on an elevator. She heard a man’s voice, he seemed to be giving a speech.

“Alright folks settle down. We have a new recruit today. She’s going to need some help getting use to the place so be sure to help her adjust accordingly.”

Once the elevator stopped all eyes fell on her, but (Y/N) immediately locked hers with Nuada’s. The latter looked away, seemingly stirred up. A woman that looked a lot like him, possibly his twin, gave him a playful look. “Did she see that?” (Y/N) wondered.

“Hello, Ms. (Y/N). I’m Tom Manning, pleasure to meet you! For a human the things you’ve done are quite impressive.” Tom shook her hand and she shook back.

Liz, Abe, even Hellboy introduced themselves one by one to (Y/N). She spent the day bonding with them all, and while she still didn’t fully trust them, she was happy to know them. Everyone was enjoying themselves until the alarms went off. “Emergency! A giant beast is attacking the base. Stop it before anyone else finds out!” Tom commanded everyone to go out front.

“What is it sir?” (Y/N) asked Tom, to which he responded with saying it was a dragon. “I can handle it myself.” At first everyone was reluctant on letting her handle it alone, but she eventually convinced them to let her go. After making it back to the surface, a gigantic Screaming Death roared, flying high in the sky.

She whistles towards the dragon, gaining its attention. The Screaming Death floated in front of (Y/N), sniffing the air around her. She leans her forehead onto its, and whispered to the dragon, “It’s okay. Go to where your family is. I know you can find them. You don’t have to be afraid.” It calmed down and swiftly flew away.

Everyone was impressed with her ability to communicate with the dragons. They all dispersed at the command of Tom and went back inside. Nuada slowly walked towards (Y/N), and she walked slowly towards him. “That was very impressive. I don’t usually say this to humans, but your genuine love for those creatures…it does warm my heart knowing some humans can be like you.” Nuada gently grasped (Y/N)’s hand for a second and then let go.

“Hey, Nuada. Want to meet the rest of my dragons?” She offered. He smiled and nodded.

“I’d love to.”

Nuada and (Y/N) make it to her secret utopia for rescued dragons. “Many of them are injured or traumatized by the things done to them, so this is essentially a safe haven to protect them from the outside world,” she explained. “These are my three main dragons: Stormcutter, Triple Strike, and Song of Death.”

The dragons weren’t too enthusiastic to see Nuada, most not sensing a good feel from him. The baby Deathgripper spits acid on Nuada’s clothes while the other dragons growl.

“Ugh! You’ve got to be kidding me…,” while Nuada was vigorously wiping off the acid, (Y/N) was laughing so hard she clutched her stomach. Nuada slightly laughs alongside her. He stopped to hold her face in his hands which caused her laughter to stop.

They both slowly leaned in and gave each other a quick kiss, embarrassingly pushing the other away afterwards. The dragons all gagged at the two.

- Fin

#hellboy x reader #oneshot #female reader #nuada silverlance #nuada silverlance x reader

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eastofthemoon · 6 months

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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Rating: PG

Series: Voltron Legendary Defender/Avatar the Last Airbender

Summary: After the fight with Zarkon, Shiro accidentally gets tossed into another reality where humans have the ability to bend the elements. His best shot at returning home is with someone called the Avatar, while he waits he might as well take on the job of being the Firelord’s bodyguard.

“Do you think they’re doing alright?”

Zuko glanced up from the paper he had been signing. “They’re speaking to my father, I doubt they’re having a good time.”

Katara sighed. “I know, but they’ve been down there awhile.” Aang winced from his seat. “It has. Maybe we should go check on them?”

“It’s not even been 30 minutes,” Sokka said as he twirled his boomerang in his hands. “Don’t be so nervous.”

Suki raised an eyebrow. “Says the man who fiddles with his boomerang when he’s trying to calm his nerves.”

Sokka paused in his twirling. “I’m not nervous, I am fidgeting. There’s a difference.”

Zuko groaned over where this argument was about to go when thankfully the door opened and Toph appeared.

Katara instantly rose and went over. “So, how did it go?” She then frowned. “Wait, where’s Shiro?”

“In the garden,” Toph said and crossed her arms, “recovering.”

“Recovering?” Aang said. “Is he hurt? Did Ozai do something-”

“No,” Toph said and then sighed. “Well, yeah, he did but Shiro isn’t physically hurt. It’s complicated.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow as Sokka approached. “What do you mean?”

Toph stroked her chin. “It went as expected. Shiro went to talk to Ozai and as we suspected he didn't know a thing and was just trying to see if he could use Shiro to help him regain the throne.”

“Of course,” Zuko said darkly.

“Shiro was going to walk away but then,” she bit her lower lip. “Ozai said something that seemed to spook Shiro.”

Aang narrowed his eyes. “What was it?”

She raised her head. “He said Shiro was a killer, just like him.” She raised her head up. “I immediately felt his heart rate go up, like he was panicking? I’m pretty sure I heard him grab Ozai. He let him go, but it was a long pause and I got to admit I was debating if I should step in or not.”

“But that’s crazy,” Aang said.

“I agree,” Suki added. “He’s a good fighter, but he’s not a killer. He’s probably one of the nicest guys I’ve met.” She turned to Sokka. “Right?”

Sokka grimaced as he rubbed his neck. “Well...”

Zuko crossed his arms, “You’re remembering the Agni Kai aren’t you?”

“How can I not be?”

Aang and Suki exchanged baffled looks.

“Are we missing something?” Aang asked.

“Yeah,” Sokka said as he rubbed his neck. “You two didn’t see how he was during the Agni Kai. He was intense. There are reasons people are still calling him’ the dragon’.”

“And his universe is going through its own war at the moment,” Katara replied as she rubbed her arms. “We all know what kind of impact that can have on people.”

Aang frowned and nodded as he gripped his staff. “Maybe I should go talk to him-”

“No,” Zuko said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “I should.” He turned to the group. “I have a feeling I can better relate.”

The group exchanged glances, but all nodded.

“He should be in the garden,” Toph said. “Probably hanging out with Appa and Momo.”

“Cuddle time with furry critters is good for relieving stress,” Sokka commented.

“Right,” Zuko said as he left. “I’ll go find him. Could one of you fill Uncle in on what happened?”

“I’ll do it,” Toph said as he crossed her arms.

“And in the meantime, who’s up for a game of cards?” Sokka said.

“Only if you’re not dealing,” Katara chided.

“Why?”

“Because you cheat!” Everyone shouted.

Zuko repressed a chuckle as he left and headed for the garden.

---------------------

There was nobody in the garden, which was what Shiro needed. Upon arriving, Momo had jumped onto his shoulder. Shiro glanced up and upon seeing the lemur’s concerned face staring back at him, he gave a small smile.

“Worried about me?” Shiro asked.

Momo chirped at him.

“I’m okay,” Shiro said quietly, although it was mostly to convince himself.

He walked over to where Appa was currently napping and sat next to him. The flying bison cracked open an eye.

“Mind if I join you?” Shrio asked.

Appa gave a snort before shutting his eyes and turning his head.

“I’ll take that as an ‘No’,” Shiro said softly and leaned back.

He breathed in and out. He needed to clear his head. He had to just..not think about what he had just heard. But how could he not?

Because it’s all true, he thought darkly.

He sighed deeply listening to only Appa’s snoring and the light purr like sounds from Momo. Before long, Shiro heard footsteps.

He opened his eyes and saw Zuko.

“I take it you spoke with Toph.”

“She gave us the details more or less,” Zuko said as he sat down next to him. “Are you alright?”

Shiro sighed. “I’ll..be fine.” He shut his eyes. “It just brought up some memories I prefer not to recall.”

“Memories or the nightmares you’ve been having?”

Shiro froze. Momo hopped off his shoulder as he straightened his posture. “You know about the nightmares?”

Zuko raised an eyebrow. “I know from personal experience it’s impossible for a person to get scars like these,” he pointed to his face, “and not get nightmares.”

Shiro opened and shut his mouth. Right, I suppose he would know.

“Do you get yours often?” Zuko asked.

Shiro rubbed his neck. “It’s not as bad as it used to be, but I will admit they aren’t nearly as bad as the…”

“Flashbacks?”

Shiro paused, but slowly gave a nod.

Zuko was quiet as he crossed his arms. “I’m assuming the others told you how I got my face burned.”

Shiro rubbed his neck. “Um, no actually.”

Zuko blinked and looked genuinely surprised. “Wait, really?”

“They told me it was something to do with an Agni Kai, but they wouldn’t tell me any more than that.”

“Huh,” Zuko said softly as he watched Momo dip his hand into the water. “You might as well know.”

Shiro held up his hand. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re probably going to learn it from someone at some point, it’s not exactly hidden information, and I rather you hear it from me.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes, but remained quiet.

“During a war meeting I spoke out against a general’s plan to use newly trained soldiers as bait in a battle.” He turned to Shiro. “Believe it or not, that general was Bujing.”

The man I fought, Shiro thought. He recalled the arrogance of the older man. Yeah, he would be the kind of guy to have that plan.

“You weren’t wrong for speaking out,” Shiro said.

“No, but it wasn’t my place to. I was young and was only supposed to observe quietly.” Zuko took a deep breath. “My father was outraged at my behaviour and an Agni Kai was declared to settle the matter. I had assumed it would be with Bujing, but that wasn’t the case. Ozai was my opponent.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. “You… had to fight against your father?”

“No, because I refused. To ‘teach me a lesson’ Ozai gave me this,” he pointed to his burn. “It was a few days after while I was still recovering that he banished me and said I wasn’t allowed to return home unless I captured the avatar.” He gave a shrug. “You can guess how that turned out.”

Shiro was silent as the gears turned in his head. Zuko was no older than Keith. The war ended three years ago. Did that mean?

“How old were you?” Shiro asked.

“13,” Zuko replied darkly.

Shiro sucked in air between his teeth and shut his eyes to cool his temper.

“I should have killed him,” Shiro said with a growl.

Zuko scoffed. “You’ll need to get in line. Katara, Sokka and Toph instantly started to make ‘murder plans’ when I told them. It took Aang and I days to get them to calm down about it.”

Can’t say I blame them, Shiro thought.

He took his own deep breath. “Okay, my turn.”

Zuko touched his shoulder. “You don’t have to.”

Shiro shook his head. “No, it’s only fair.”

If Zuko felt comfortable enough to tell him the details, how could he not return the favour?

“You know the galra I told you about? I was on an exploration mission when I first encountered them.” Momo came over and sat at Shiro’s feet. “We weren’t a large group. Just me, the pilot, and two scientists; Sam Holt and his son Matt. It wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a mission of scientific discovery, but we were captured by the galra.”

“Because they thought you had information?” Zuko asked.

“I don’t know,” Shiro replied.

He never really understood why they had been captured.

“But the end result was Sam got taken away while Matt and I got sent to the gladiator ring.” His body tensed. “Matt was so frightened. I knew he wouldn’t survive so I injured him so they were forced to take him out of there, but I don’t know where.”

“So, you were left there alone?” Zuko muttered.

Shiro nodded, “I was there for a year before I was able to escape,” Shiro said. “I don’t remember much about that time, but I do know three facts.” He held up his cybernetic arm. “It’s where I got this as well as my scars, every fight was to the death,” his fist tightened, “and I was granted the title of Champion.”

Zuko’s face hardened. “You mean, every fight you won-”

“Had to end with someone being killed,” Shiro finished. “I’ve met former prisoners who remember my time there and they said I was their inspiration, but I’ll admit I’ve yet to understand why.” Shiro lowered his arm as glanced over to the pond. “Your father is right about one thing. I am a killer just like him.”

Zuko scoffed, “Shiro, I haven’t known you for long, but you are nothing like him.”

Shiro’s eyes hardened. “Zuko-”

“You’re not.” Zuko repeated firmly. “You had to kill to survive, meanwhile my father tried to burn an entire nation to the ground just because he wanted to feed his ego.”

Shiro was quiet.

“Besides, that fact that you feel guilt over it is proof enough,” Zuko continued as he touched Shiro’s shoulder. “Ozai doesn’t question it for a second.”

Shiro’s shoulders slumped. “It’s easy to say that, logically, but-”

“It’s difficult to believe it?” Zuko asked.

Shiro nodded.

“Have you ever discussed this with your friends?”

“No,” Shiro said softly as he shut his eyes. “We’re in the middle of a war and they have enough on their shoulders. I don’t want to burden them.”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll just make things worse though.”

Shiro glanced at him, but kept quiet.

“Keeping things in doesn’t help anyone,” Zuko continued. “You probably think you’re protecting them, but all that’s doing is letting things build up inside and trust me, it will come out.” He turned to him. “At the worst possible times.”

“Personal experience?” Shiro asked.

Zuko didn’t reply, but he could tell from his face that the answer was a yes.

“I know you’re right,” Shiro said softly. “Just hard to know when I’m ready.”

Zuko took a breath and then rose. “Well, I know what we can do in the meantime.” He turned to him. “Starting tomorrow, I’m teaching you how to meditate. Uncle taught me when I was first recovering and I can’t deny it was a big help to me.”

Shiro raised a hand. “I appreciate the offer but-”

“It’s not a request,” Zuko said firmly, “it’s an order since you are currently acting as my bodyguard. I’m sure Aang would be willing to assist too.”

Shiro debated if he should argue, but Zuko was clearly not going to back down.

He really does remind me of Keith, Shiro thought. I wonder if they would get along?

Shiro rose and tossed up his hands. “Alright, you win.”

“We’ll start in the morning then,” Zuko said. “Let’s go back and check in with the others.”

Shiro nodded silently as he followed feeling just a little bit better than he had before.

#a paladin in the fire nation #atla #vld #takashi shirogane

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crystalas · 3 years

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Blazing Blue part 1

Red Son runs away from home after overhearing his father call him a worthless excuse of a demon, agreeing to a truce with MK he ends up with the Monkie crew unaware that someone wants to steal a power that was sealed away long ago.

Chapter one: Truce buddies

Demon Bull King stood amongst the ruins of his old hidden stronghold, his robot clones busy digging out the remains and salvaging anything of use. He took a weary sigh and he surveyed all of what he had built since his revival and growled at how quickly it was destroyed…annoyingly at his own hand! Only then to be enslaved by Spider Queen while trying to raise enough funds to rebuild it. Needless to say, it had a been a few rough months for the Demon Bull Family.

“Man, I had heard your family had fallen on hard times but this is embarrassing!” a voice chuckled and Demon Bull King felt himself bristle with anger, he spun around to smash whoever thought it wise to mock a ten-foot-tall bull demon only to find the black monkey warrior Macaque lounging leisurely on top of a pile of rubble.

“Begone, you annoying simian shadow, I have no time for you” Demon Bull King snarled.

“Aw and I came all the way down here to chat, how rude. I mean I’ll excuse you not getting out the fine China for me on account of well…” he gestures to the crumbling ruin as a chunk of wall collapsed behind him. “Your recent string of humiliating defeats and the fact you had to team up with Monkey King…just wow…how low can you go?”

Macaque quickly sprung to his feet and nimbly dodged a lump of molten metal that flew right past him and buried itself into the ceiling behind him.

“If you have come here just to mock me then I will make you pay for every word you speak tenfold!” he roared.

“You’re right I’m sorry, I actually wanted to see if you were interested in an alliance of sorts?” Macaque exclaimed as he hopped lightly down the rubble pile without so much as disturbing a brick and looked up at Demon Bull King with a smile.

“You come to my home…Mock me and my family and rub salt in my wounds and you ASK FOR AN ALLIENCE!!??”

“What if I told you, it’s a plan to destroy the Monkey King? And his little fan club?” Macaque offered, Demon Bull King glared at him said not a word and then with speed not many would associate with a creature of his size and bulk snatched Macaque with his hand and brought him up to his face to look him in the eye.

“Know this Six Ears Macaque just because I have been buried under a mountain for the last few centuries does not mean I am ignorant of current events! You tried to best Monkey King with his protégé’s own power and you still lost!” Demon Bull King snarled as Macaque squirmed in his tight grip before erupting into shadowy mist and escaping. Demon Bull King glanced around trying to find the real one only for what he hoped was the real one to appear perched nearby on what remained of his furnace.

“See that’s why I’m here, Monkey King knows I like to… “borrow” power from other people, and he probably think I’ll go for powers of say his fanboy or someone just as good but what if I blindsided him with powers of say… The Demon Bull King? Or Lady Iron Fan? Or maybe say the power of demon fire?”

“No. Begone.”

“Com’on I’m not even asking you to do anything just let me borrow some power and I’ll do the butt kicking!”

“Begone.” Demon Bull King replied even harsher than last time.

“Fine, I get it.” Macaque grumbled “Best shot you have of getting your revenge and you’re going to turn it down!”

“I am not as foolish as to become a mere power source to another being, that is not an alliance that is servitude at best!” Demon Bull King declared standing to his full height with his fist clench ready for battle. “And do not think me as foolish to let you even try!”

“Fine. Fine I’ll just try Red Son, he’s more open minded about these things. Plus, I’ve heard the rumours of his… hidden inheritance” Macaque smirked as he spun on his heels and walked away casually only for a fist to slammed into the wall blocking his path.

“You will stay away from my family!” Demon Bull King hissed.

“So, it is true? I mean I’ve heard stories about it but given what I’ve seen of him in action I’d begun to doubt any of them!”

Demon Bull King thought quickly but to be fair his wife was more the brains of the operation, if Macaque was beginning to doubt the stories better to confirmed it than deny them.

“Red Son is a pathetic whelp, who is an embarrassment to us and unworthy of being called my son, he only brings shame and defeat to whatever he does. Whatever rumours you had heard are merely that; rumours. If he did have any power worthy of the Demon Bull King family name, don’t you think I would have used it by now?” Demon Bull King declared coldly, “You have clearly wasted your time and mine. You have your answer. Now go!”

“I guess they must be wrong if even you say Red Son is a worthless excuse of a demon. My mistake, you know how stories get hyped up over the years…I’ll be on my way” Macaque said sadly as he hopped down and walked away arms crossed behind his back. As he did, he glanced over at one of the corridors that snaked through Demon Bull King’s hide out to see a quiet and pale faced Red Son…

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Red Son had managed to find his room amongst the rubble and save some clothes, books and tools. Sadly, an iron girder had broken through the roof of his room and destroyed his computer set up and mechanics bench, in a way he was ok with that. Rebuilding his computer would give him something to do while the reconstruction was underway. Now he was heading to the main chamber as he was getting peckish and fancied going up top to grab some food, might as well see if Father didn’t want anything before, he headed out.

As he walked down the corridor, he heard his father shouting and the muffled voices of him talking to another. Who could that be? Red Son wondered as he started to walk faster, Mother shouldn’t be back just yet. She had left the city to find spell ingredients for her magics, [it is kind of hard to locate stuff like dragon scales and tree spirit sap in a dense city metropolis.]

As he came to the opening to the main chambre he heard something that made his heart stop.

“Red Son is a pathetic whelp, who is an embarrassment us and unworthy of being called my son…” his father said, as he tried to listen everything else but it just to swim in and out of his focus as his head spun. “…Only brings shame and defeat…Worthless excuse of a demon…waste of…my time…”

Why? Why would his father say that? Red Son thought they had made progress in their relationship, okay fine he had only called him son that one time but…but that was still a better than nothing? He saved him when the Spider Queen caught him in her webs, they fought her together.

Was he really back to square one? No. it was apparently worse than that he wasn’t back at square one he was off the game board entirely as far as his father was concerned. Heavens knows how his mother must see him give she has called him useless to his face! He had tried no end of times to prove himself only to come home with nothing to show for it.

He didn’t even register Macaque walk by as he spun on his heels and went back to what remains of his room; stuffing what he had salvaged into a backpack and swallowing back a painful lump in his throat as he quickly wrote a note leaving it on the metal girder for whoever to find. He took a deep breath trying to steady his emotions before disappearing in a swirl of flames.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monkey Kid or MK was feeling down of late; his Master the Monkey King had given him the task of catching a red leaf with a gold dot on it. That didn’t sound too hard right? Not when Monkey King is making it rain hundreds of other leaves all of different colours and hues as well and expects him to find it in minutes!

MK sighed, he knew what the lesson was about he was supposed to focus on that one leaf and avoid all other distractions. If he pulled it off and mastered it, he knew he’s probably be able to find a grain of rice on a beach or something as pointless but somehow totally cool sounding. Problem was he couldn’t pull it off, he kept getting distracted or just overwhelmed by the leaves getting dumped on him from above.

So now he sat on a ledge of Flower Fruit Mountain overlooking the sunset on the city, he liked to come here when he wanted to clear his head. On one hand it was freaking awesome he was the protégé of The Monkey King a warrior of renowned legendary might and skill…on the other hand sometimes it would dawn on him on just how daunting it was to live up to the expectations of an immortal warrior who seems to have seen everything the world has to offer and then some.

He sighed as he stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants before grabbing his staff. He began to walk he saw that he wasn’t the only one taking in the view with a sense of melancholy. As he got closer, he squawked in alarm as he saw the familiar flaming red hair and ragged jacket.

“RED SON??!!” this outburst caused Red Son to leap out of his skin and jump to his feet. “What are you doing here?!”

“Oh, push off Noodle Boy, last time I checked you don’t own this mountain!” Red Son snapped grabbing his stuff and storming off “But if you’re here that means Monkey King isn’t far behind and I rather not have to deal with him on top of everything else!”

“Huh? Hey wait!” MK shouted as he noticed the backpack. “What’s in there?!”

“None of your concern!” Red Son barked back.

“It is my concern when you show up on Monkey King’s Mountain with a suspicious bag! What’s in it?”

“It’s not a bomb or anything!”

“You got a BOMB??!!”

“Oh, for the love of…NO! I have not got a bomb or anything of the sort! I mean for pity’s sake I can literally throw fire balls why would I need to carry an explosive weapon??!!”

MK dashed forward and tried to grab the backpack and Red Son tried to pulled it away from him leading to a very childish game of tug of war.

“Lemme see what’s in it!”

“NO!”

“If you’ve got nothing to hide then you have nothing to worry about!”

“ITS MY STUFF SO LET GO!”

Sadly, a backpack that had endured many scorches from its owner and grounded by rubble could only bear so much and with one last pull from both sides the backpack’s fabric tore open and Red Son’s stuff poured onto the floor. Red Son dived down to grab what he could as MK took in the sights of clothes, food, and other mundane stuff.

“Dude…are you camping or something?” MK asked as he saw one of the items that had skidded out of Red Son’s reach, he knelt down to pick it up and saw it was a hand sized family portrait of Princess Iron Fan and Demon Bull King…before he could get a good look it was snatched from his hands.

“Just leave me alone!” Red Son growled “You can clearly see that I am not a threat!”

“Red …are you ok?”

Red Son was trying to figure out how to keep his stuff in a backpack with a massive hole in it, but he was also trying desperately to ignore the look of concern that was coming from his enemy.

“Are you running away from home?”

Red Son didn’t respond to that and he had stopped fiddling with his backpack as he was now staring sadly at the photo.

“Why?” MK asked softly.

“Why do you care?”

“I mean…I dunno…you and your dad seem to be getting on when I last saw you, seems strange that you’re running away!”

“I AM NOT RUNNING AWAY!” Red Son roared his hair flaring up in flames, gripping the photo tightly as he did. The flames died quickly as did Red Son’s anger as he then whispered “I’m…I’m…just making things easier for my parents…”

MK tilted his head in confusion, he looked at Red Son for a moment. This was a guy who was always so confident, loud and proud of his name and heritage he literally introduces himself in full name whenever he’s about to do something dastardly or anything for that matter. Now he was sitting there with a backpack full of his possessions, on a mountain far from home, staring at a family picture like he’s never going to see them again.

MK sat down next to Red Son, putting the staff away to show he meant no harm.

“Want to talk about it?”

Red Son looked away angrily.

“Ok how about I go first? You know how cool it is to have someone like the freaking Monkey King show up and say that’ll they teach you? It is don’t get me wrong but then you begin to see how big of a shadow you’re stuck under? We’re talking about a guy who literally stole from the heavens and got away with it and has beaten up who knows how many monsters and demons? I sometimes wonder if I’m ever gonna be good enough for this, it’s just feels like the whole universe is just waiting for me to screw up, just to prove that I can’t do it… y’know what I mean?” there a few moments of silence and MK was about to try again when he heard a small voice.

“At least he believes in you, it must be nice to have a someone like that.”

“Your parents don’t?”

“… …no…” Red Son muttered, “I overheard my father today telling someone that he considers me an embarrassment to the family name, along with a few other choice words…”

“So, you…left?”

“I don’t know I wasn’t thinking at the time!” Red Son cried out angrily tugging at his head in frustration, “I want prove to my father that I am worthy of being his son but how? How do I show him that I’m not a …a…pathetic whelp?”

There was a heavy tense silence between them as they both looked at each other and then at the city, the sun nearing finished setting and the in the twilight the city lights began to shine.

“You know what?” MK declared as he got up. “We both need a break!”

“What?”

“A break from all this living up to people’s expectations and ideals! A chance to recharge the batteries and get some of that well-being self-care stuff!”

“What exactly are you proposing?” Red Son inquired nervously.

“We can just hang out; you know play games and chill? Also, you can stay at mine till you get this all sorted out!”

Red Son looked at MK like he had just announced that the moon was made of cream cheese and was inhabited by flying guinea pigs.

“So…a truce?” he ventured nervously

“Yeah! My friends and I don’t fight you, and you don’t fight us!”

Red Son looked down at his destroyed backpack, then glanced at the mountain side he was on and realised that maybe coming up here to hide was a dumb idea.

“It not like I’ve got anything better to do!” he grumbled.

“AWESOME!” MK beamed “Let’s go! We’re gonna be Truce Buddies!”

#monkie kid red son #red son #monkie kid #monkie kid mk #spiceynoodle #sort of but kind of

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duhragonball · 3 years

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Frieza for the character ask, please. I want to know if there's something you like!

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: I tend to divide all of Dragon Ball canon into two sections: the part that’s about Dragon Balls, and the part that’s about Super Saiyans, with DBZ Episode 66 as the dividing line. And Frieza’s original run as the main villain (Episodes 44-120) straddles that line.

He’s basically a bridge between those two themes. He starts off as a villain gathering the Dragon Balls to extend his rule, much like Emperor Pilaf or Commander Red, but he’s so insanely powerful that it almost doesn’t matter if he makes his wish or not. The only thing that gives him pause is the possibility of a Saiyan uprising, except there’s only a handful of them left in the universe, which means the only way they could threaten him would be if one of them suddenly became the strongest Saiyan in a millennium.

My favorite aspect of Dragon Ball is that it keeps raising the stakes. Vegeta was presented as the ultimate threat, and then it turned out that his boss is the strongest guy in the universe. And he’s treated accordingly. It takes forever to defeat him, mostly because it’s a lot safer to sneak around and avoid the guy, and when a final confrontation happens, no one has the necessary power to finish him off.

Somewhat understandably, a lot of fans think of him as the Final Boss of the Dragon Ball mythos. Goku becomes a legendary warrior to defeat the strongest guy in the universe. How do you top that? A lot of fans think that it was a mistake to try, and I’m pretty sure that’s where a lot of this “Toiryama wanted to quit after the Frieza Saga” mythology came from. What they’re really saying is: “I think Toriyama should have quit after the Frieza Saga, and I assume he agrees with me, because I respect him so much, which must mean someone forced him to continue.”

But I think that’s bunk, because Toriyama’s best work was built on Frieza’s vaporized corpse. How can you keep a martial arts epic going when the hero is stronger than the strongest person in the universe? Toriyama took that as a challenge. The androids could be stronger than Frieza because they hadn’t been built yet when Frieza was riding high. Cell and Trunks could be stronger than Frieza because they’re from the future. The Supreme Kai and Dabura were stronger than Frieza, but they don’t count because they’re from other realms beyond the “normal” universe. Majin Buu could be stronger than Frieza because he’s from the distant past. He’s been hidden away in storage for so long that no one remembers him. Same deal with Beerus literally sleeping through all of Dragon Ball and DBZ. And guys like Jiren and Hit are from whole separate universes. All Toriyama had to do was avoid introducing some ultra-powerful character who had been active during Frieza’s lifetime. The only one that springs to mind if Cooler, although he admits in Movie 5 that Frieza had an edge over him throughout their rivalry.

So I like Frieza for being that big milestone character. Guys like Cell and Majin Buu wouldn’t work as well without a Frieza to set them up as extraordinary challengers.

Why I don’t: The problem with Frieza is that his importance to the franchise has led to him becoming overrated. He’s got this 70-episode run as the main villain, but he spends most of it sitting in that goofy chair and literally refusing to do anything, even while his soldiers keep messing up. When he finally does take matters into his own hands, he holds back, apparently because he wants to torture his opponents as much as possible before finishing them.

People give Goku a lot of shit for showing mercy to his enemies, but no one ever seems to notice how Frieza could have wiped out Goku a hundred times over and just... didn’t. At least when Goku does it, you can say it’s because he’s too nice, but what’s Frieza’s excuse? There’s a lot of big long chunks of the Frieza Saga where literally nothing happens because the good guys are too weak and Frieza’s in no particular hurry to end it.

By contrast, you have villains like Buu, who really don’t waste time like that. He started killing people and while he wasn’t in any particular hurry, he didn’t drag it out either. In less than 48 hours, he destroyed the whole planet. That’s service.

I cannot stress enough how Cell is the superior villain compared to Frieza. The only lull in his run was when he declared a truce to allow his enemies to prepare for the Cell Games, and they were free to attack him during that time if they wanted. And there was a point to that. Cell had no particular agenda, so he decided to arrange a rematch with the Earth’s fighters.

But when Frieza wastes time, it’s for plot reasons. He’s just really lazy and unmotivated, or maybe he’s just incompetent. But the wider fandom sees this jackass and goes “RARRR BEST VILLIN 5EVAR!” Nah, he sucks.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): For my money, the coolest thing Frieza did was when he came back as a cyborg. He kept trying to declare victory in his fight with Goku on Namek, even after cutting himself in half, and then Namek explodes on him and he still won’t let it go. His dad finds him and after a long convalescence he decides to go to Earth and fight Goku all over again.

What makes it so awesome is that the cyborg parts are a silent testament to how monumentally stupid that idea is. All this guy had going for him was his top spot on all the power level charts, and now he’s lost that and he has no idea how to get along without it.

And this is why I hate the idea of bringing him back from the dead, because there’s nowhere left to take this character. He lost on Namek, and Episode 119-120 was just his last-ditch effort to defy reality. He doesn’t know how to survive in a world where he’s not the top dog, and he doesn’t survive, that’s the end of that story. Bringing him back just repeats the lesson, only without the cool cyborg parts to remind us that this never works.

Favorite season/movie: I guess Frieza Saga by default. It’s got some great moments in it, but it gets really thin in places.

Favorite line: “Peace? I... will... never... know peaaaace!” Or words to that effect. Whatever bluster he shouted at Goku when he tried to take that last shot at him before Namek exploded.

Favorite outfit: The cyborg look.

OTP: I guess he has the hots for Yamcha, so let’s go with that.

Brotp: Yeah, right.

Head Canon: Between the lore in the Bardock TV special and “Dragon Ball Minus”, I get the impression that Frieza is concerned with legends in general, not just the one about the Super Saiyan. I say this because in “Father of Goku”, he sent Bardock’s crew to conquer Kanassa, and the only apparent reason for this was because of the rumors of their psychic abilities. Frieza was likewise intrigued by the Namekian regeneration ability. I think in at least one translation he expresses some envy of Nail’s power, implying that he would want to find some way to acquire it for himself.

What I’m getting at is that Frieza’s so powerful that the only things he has to worry about are things that may not even exist. The Kanassans were probably no threat to him, but he may have considered that they could be, so he wiped them out before it could come to that. Or maybe his staff discovered a tale of the Kanassan planet being the source of their powers, so he decided he needed to control that planet before his enemies could use it against him.

Same deal with the Saiyans. in DB Minus, I got the impression that he’s got a whole team of researchers who check up on local folklore. Maybe they do this everywhere he goes, and he uses this intel to decide which planets live or die.

Unpopular opinion: Frieza’s main contribution to the Dragon Ball franchise was to provide useful genetic material for the creation of Cell, the true best villain.

A wish: Hit and Majin Buu kill his ass and Grand Zeno, Great Priest, and Shaggy Blanco all hold a press conference announcing that he’s dead forever and can never come back, no matter what. He gets sent to the same turbo super hell they have in Supernatural.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: Please don’t do any team ups with old villains and have Cell take orders from Frieza. That sucks and it shouldn’t happen.

5 words to best describe them: Final form is a corpse.

My nickname for them: LOWARD FUREEZA.

#ask duhragonball #dragon ball #frieza

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pollyanna-nana · 4 years

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A new AU idea inspired by Jojo’s Linked Universe AU, a sort of... Marthed universe? It’s kind of hard to come up with unique ideas for a group of characters with very similar personalities, but at least there’s a lot to draw on design-wise ahaha. These were a lot of fun (even though I had to do some research for the ones who’s games I haven’t played). Let me know what you think!

OG Marth (Marth) -30 y/o -Team Dad, has the most life experience -Still kind of a teen at heart -Doing his BEST -Doesn’t know how to feel about his future reputation as a “Hero-King” -Refuses to wear pants

Pink Marth (Celica) -25 y/o -Team Mom, unofficially adopted everyone -Rules Valentia with Alm back home -Gives the best hugs -”We have healthy conversations about our feelings in this house young man” -Do Not Touch her children if you value your fingers

Light Marth (Seliph) -22 y/o -Anxiety(tm) -More confident since his teen years but can be a bit of a pushover -Older Brother type -Please resist the urge to pat his hair. Please -(I have not played Genealogy sorrY-)

Red Marth (Roy) -20 y/o -1/4 dragon on his mother’s side -Overprotective, can be hotheaded -Still very sweet -People do Not believe him when he says he’s 20 (dragon blood=perpetual baby face) -Talks about his IRL dad a lot!!

Teal Marth (Eirika) -19 y/o -Big Sister(tm) -Has experience with sibling rivalry, will step in to resolve conflict with the younger kids -Dual rules with Ephraim back home -Will help you with your friend drama (sometimes without asking bc she’s nosy)

Staff Marth (Elincia) -18 y/o -Who is Elincia? This is a totally random mercenary employed by Greil I assure you -Gives a different name every time she is asked (panicked forgetfulness) -Literal sweetheart, actual angel -Team Healer -VERY interested in hearing more about how the others managed to evade capture in their respective conflicts

Girl Marth (Lucina) -16 y/o -Pulled straight out of Grima Time, kind of relieved to be somewhere without a fell dragon trying to kill her -Refers to Marth as “Grandpa Marth”. All the other kids pick up on this. -”Okay but, I have One more story about the Legendary Hero-King...” -Took a week to get her to take her mask off even though the “Marth” disguise failed instantly

Dragon Marth (Corrin) -14 y/o -Lived their entire life in a tower so everything is Exciting -Told by Garon that their draconic blood was a danger and they needed to be hidden away -Big Gremlin Energy, the shortest -Can turn into a dragon with a dragon stone, but they are afraid of losing control and therfore do not often -Shoes are optional

Blonde Marth (Dimitri) -13 y/o -A few months post Duscur Tragedy. The group is DESPERATELY trying to get this child therapy -Selectively mute, does not tell the group his name or pronouns for a while -Team Baby, if you hurt Dimitri You Are Already Dead -Can crush skulls with one hand still -Does not like to remove armor or hand coverings

How are they all together anyway...? I dunno, I haven’t really thought that far. Thanks for reading!

#polly draws #fire emblem #marth #celica #seliph #roy #eirika #elincia #lucina #corrin #dimitri #fe #au

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dalesception · 3 years

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galatea island

i’ve always been a huge fan of dragon age to the point i started fantasize about it a lot. this idea is unfinished, but i thought it would’ve been cool creating an antivan island based off ancient sicily, since it’s where i live. please, keep in mind that i’m translating from italian and that there may be mistakes. be gentle! feel free to use it! you don’t need to ask permission for your fanfiction or your character, but do not alter the informations. i would like to read, though! thanks. ♡

tradition says that a princess from rivain, whose name was galatea, was predicted from the court mage the coming of the first blight when she would have turn fifteen. if the princess had saved herself she would have found a fruitful land, different from the others.

the day of her fifteen birthday finally arrived. galatea boarded a tiny boat and after the first couple of days she got desperate, crying and screaming at the ocean; then the promised land appeared on the horizon, just like the court mage told her.

the land, besides its beautiful landscapes, looked uninhabited except for one man. he explained that the island had lost its people due to the eruption of the volcano aretusa and the two of them were apparently ‘chosen’ to repopulate the area.

obviously, this is nothing but a legend. it is (probably...) true that a rivaini princess escaped the blight through the sea; however, she wasn’t alone: most of the court went with her, along with some grey wardens. the ‘mysterious’ man was perhaps just her future consort, prince nicola from antiva. be that as it may, now the island carries the name of this legendary princess.

the location of the island is highlighted in the picture.

galatea – the island, not the princess – has often been the subject of disputes. it was invaded multiple times by both its neighboring kingdoms (antiva, rivain and even the tevinter imperium) and the qunari, because of the particular and apparently magical soil of the island, capable of wipe out the corruption more than any other land.

the island was definetely conquered by queen asha campana in 4:62 black, during the weakening of the local government. to this day, the descendants of the galatea crown are really proud of their antivan ancestors... and, exactly like their ancestors, they are extremely corrupted. the administration of the island would be up to them, but merchants are far more important (followed by farmers and fishers) because of how they exploit the soil’s properties to make money.

this is why, for the most part, its population shows a skin color range that goes from ebony to olive. the qunaris are a minority, but they are pacific and well-integrated. humans and city elves are by far the most common races. the island isn’t much appealing to dalish elves, however, because there is nothing left of arlathani’s culture. the only clan that wanders this area, the ghi’myelan’an, left the mainland in order to escape the fifth blight and stayed to study the particular properties of the soil, which they think they may be connected to ancient elven magic.

you can find a famous volcano, the aretusa, which is the home of a female high dragon. however, this dragon – whose species is sutera stalker, exclusive to the island – isn’t aggressive as you may think it is.

a witch of the wilds does, in fact, take care of the dragon. her name is verbenia and she lives in the sutera plains. although she isn’t one of flemeth’s favorites, terrifying and creepy stories revolve around her. one of them involves revenge:

from the shore of its country, a foreign prince was thinking about conquering galatea. the witch apparently managed to lead him on: the island was suddenly a few meters away from the man, who started walking on the ground of the desired land. the witch interrumpted the charm only when she was sure that it was too late: the prince was already drowning.

speaking of religion, at first rivaini’s faith was exported to the island, but the several submissions have heavily troubled the cultural and religious side of the islanders. andrastianism became the most popular religion after the conquest of queen asha campana. we could say that (note: i’m BAD at math so i apologize if there is any mistake):

97,8% of galateani are andrastians in particular — 84,6% follow the orlesian chantry — 13,2% follow the imperial chantry

3% are atheists

0,2% are other

imperial chantry followers are a consequence of tevinter imperium’s invasions. because of that, mages aren’t seen as bad as in the majority of thedas. there still is a mage circle in biancavilla, though. luckily, mages and templars seem to coexist happily.

the mages developed a really peculiar way of fighting, derived from the usage of the stick by farmers and shepherds. initially there wasn’t a defined technique: the stick started appearing in –170 ancient among those considered ‘poor’ and it was an honorable weapon for a duel. eventually it became so deeply-rooted to the culture that mages now use their staffs like the old farmers’ sticks and it is praised to the point that is common to think of it as a form of art.

the languages spoken in galatea are mainly two: the antivano, which is the strange mix of spanish and italian that we hear in the games, and the galateano, its primary language, which in real life would be my dialect, the siciliano.

the antivano isn’t of common use, even though everyone knows it. official documents are released in both languages.

other headcanons:

trastamara is the most important city of galatea and the former capital of the old kingdom.

thanks to a special agreement with antiva, galatea has its own ‘special statute’ that allows the island to have more political and administration freedoms.

porto saladillo was founded by the antivans during one of their first invasions. it has developed a strong playful antagonism to trastamara.

many of the most important antivan poets, scholars and historians are from galatea.

the island is also home to giants. the ones that survived the eruption were for the most part killed by the great warriors of queen galatea’s kingdom.

the inhabitant of galatea is called galateano. the people of galatea are the galateani.

#galatea island #dragon age

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c-is-for-circinate · 4 years

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The Three Dragons, or, Repentence, Revelry, and the Hero Resolve (a tale of Onde)

So when I offered to go telling stories from my D&D game the other, I got several votes for the elves, and I wrote that one out, but several people were also very interested in the dragons, and, well. The Hero Resolve is one of my very favorite not-technically-a-god-but-honestly-might-as-well-be NPCs in this game, and making up folklore for a world that doesn’t exist is pretty damn awesome, so--

Once upon a time, there were three evil dragons.

Things tend to come in threes in stories. On Nokomoris, where the entire eastern side of the continent has been settled for tens of thousands of years by dwarves, gnomes, and humans, tales of people-in-threes are everywhere. This tale in particular, which has been told and retold so many times in a million forms that it’s barely recognizable, is sometimes told about a dwarf, a gnome, and a human villain, a trio of bandits or thieves or murderers or the like. It’s also sometimes told about three trolls, or three vampires, or three unwary foxes, or anything at all that might bring harm to a small village in the middle of nowhere.

The way the story is most truthfully told, the way that matches up, more than it doesn’t, with the world that actually happened--begins with three dragons. They were all of them adults but far from old yet, and they lived together in the mountains somewhere, in one lair shared between the three of them.

The largest and strongest and proudest of them all was the black dragon. His very favorite thing was to come roaring in to a village or farm and strike terror into every heart, to ravage and ruin it and leave half of it to spoiling without even taking it for himself, and send the survivors terrified away to tell tales of his power and glory. He was, he knew in his heart, the very very best; and he was full of violence and wrath, but his greatest sin was pride.

The fastest and cleverest and most joyfully cruel of them all was the green dragon. Her very favorite thing to do was to catch just a scant clawful of little squishy two-legged people, and promise their survival if they’d play her game and could win it. She never played fair but sometimes she let them go, if they’d entertained her just exactly the right amount to tickle her happy. The world was, she knew in her heart, the most wonderful toy to be played; she knew vengeance and anger, but her greatest sin was cruelty.

The third dragon, the blue dragon, was the youngest and smallest of the three. They were not as strong or as fast as their friends, though they were sturdy (and any dragon is strong and fast enough.) They were not as clever or as vain, but they were wise (and every dragon is smart and beautiful enough.) They were, in fact, very much the most practical dragon of the trio, and very much the most beloved.

(But C, you say, that’s not how dragon stats compare in 5e at all. It’s blue dragons with the high str and cha, black dragons with the high dex. The adult blue dragon CR is higher than the others!)

(But y’all, I say--this is a fairytale. And also not all chromatic dragons exactly match their written stat blocks.)

(Yes. I said “not all chromatic dragons”. Back to the story.)

The third dragon was the practical one, as I said, and was very much the one who made it possible for three adult dragons to live and hunt and pillage the countryside together instead of fighting each other to miserable pieces. The blue dragon had seen very easily how the three dragons might fight, and might destroy one another in the process, or might go their separate ways and each take his or her or their own small patch of territory, to defend from heroes and larger dragons alike--or they could band together and rule and ravage the skies.

The blue dragon made sure that when they chose which village to attack, it would be large and mighty enough to satisfy the black dragon’s vanity, and that they didn’t accidentally step on anybody interesting enough to satisfy the green dragon’s need for a challenge. They made sure that any survivors left to spread their tales could not raise an army against them, or find the secret trails up the mountainside to the dragons’ shared lair. They ate nearly every two-legged victim the green dragon might have let go. Their greatest sin was callousness, for they cared about no one at all besides their two dragon companions, and them only barely at that.

And so the three dragons fought, and flew, and thought themselves invincible for many years.

Now, there’s another figure that’s a cornerstone of folk tales throughout Nokomoris, and that, my friends, is the Pretty Witch. Oh, she’s a princess sometimes, buckled under by the weight of trying to protect her kingdom, but on the whole, princess stories never really took off around here. The great romantic heroine of the ages is the village witch.

Usually she’s a druid or a sorceress, to go by d&d terms. Sometimes, in the stories, she summons a fae or a demon or a celestial or an elemental from another plane to help her against some great threat, and they fall in love; other times she captures an enemy and keeps them in her hut, and they fall in love as she nurses them to health and also interrogates them for their evil plan; in yet other stories, a brave hero faces all the witch’s challenges and proves they can protect her. Some of the best stories, of course, combine all three.

Most real village witches never reach such a fairytale happily-ever-after, of course, or even get past casting second- and third-level spells. The vast majority of village witches are either old enough to be someone’s (or everyone’s) mother or too busy to be interested in most offers of romance, and plenty of them are both. That part’s true enough of the witch in this story, too.

Her power, on the other hand...

Well. There are always exceptions.

The story says that one day as all three dragons swooped together onto a village on the edge of their territory, they watched a small woman step from a hut on the side of the village and raise a staff. The story says that, mid-swoop, they began to feel themselves shrink--that the black dragon found his scales running together and turning soft and brown-pink-pale, and the green dragon found her claws growing short and weak and flat on her arms, and the blue dragon found their wings disappearing from their back even as they tried to pull up and fly away.

The story says that by the time the three dragons hit the ground, they were dragons no longer. Every story argues, a bit, about what they were and which one was which, but--in every good bit of folklore about three people out in the world, there’s a dwarf, a gnome, and a human, so that must be what these three were here, right?

(It wasn’t, in reality--but it doesn’t really matter. They were all people, soft and squishy two-leggers, and what does it change if all three were halflings or tieflings or even dragonborn, any more?)

They hit the ground on two legs each, naked and brown and pink and suddenly, for perhaps the first time in their long dragon lives, scared. And all at once, they began to run.

(But C, you say--what about legendary resistances? And anyway Polymorph is a concentration spell, one witch can’t cast it on three dragons at the same time anyway. Hell, if they were swooping down on the village, fall damage alone should have knocked at least one of them out of it when they hit the--)

(Shhh, shh, I say. It’s a story. This isn’t how it really happened. Of course it isn’t. It really took days, or a team of adventurers, and probably both, and there were traps and wands and artifacts of all kinds that went into the doing. This is only the version people tell each other--and it’s a better, shorter one, and lets us get to the rest of the story much quicker, usually.)

(But really, you say, even still, it’s just Polymorph--one good injury and they’d be right back to being themselves. Surely three adult dragons would know enough about magic to realize that. Surely one of them would be smart enough to try and injure themselves or one of the others to break it, right? Maybe the blue one.)

(You have to let me get back to my story, for that.)

So--yes, yes, you’re right. They all three of them hit the ground and fell immediately unconscious, how’s that? Or perhaps only one of them did, but that was very much enough. However it happened (and it must have been more than a thousand years ago, it must have been before Kera the Conqueror swept through the lands, must have been a thousand or two thousand years before your mother was born), however they fell, whatever they saw--the three ex-dragons did not become themselves again. The spell did not break.

(Not even True Polymorph can do that, you say--

Yes, I say. I know.)

(And why do we keep interrupting the story like this, anyway?)

(Well. Because it’s a fairytale. It’s the lore of legends. This is a story to tell at bedtimes and campfires and long afternoons spent working with your hands while the children at your feet learn to spin yarn and shell beans and mend things. This is the sort of story that’s meant to be told with interruptions.)

The man who had once been the black dragon woke up, and discovered that he was still a man, and he fled.

He had no direction in mind; his head was clouded, and his eyes were weak, and his feet were soft and clawless and he had no wings at all, and he had never run across ground like this before in all the many years of his life. He had no thought save escape, and he ran without stopping except to fall to his knees and drink from a nearby stream like a dog before he forced himself up to run again.

He collapsed, eventually, outside a woodcutter’s hut. He could not even bestir himself when the woodcutter and his wife brought him inside to nurse him back to health.

It took a full week before he could do more than stand and hobble, and in that time the woodcutter’s family nursed him with nothing but kindness, and man who had once been a black dragon found himself struck to the heart by it. He had done so many things in his time as a dragon that he had been proud of, but now it seemed that he was a person, weak and desperate, and would be for the rest of his life. It was unthinkable that a mere woodcutter like this should nurse a great black dragon back to health.

It was unthinkable for a person to have done the things the man had done, when he was a dragon. How could a man live in this world of men, having done such things? How could he be proud of who he was? And so, faced with the kindness of the woodcutter’s family, the man who’d once been the black dragon began to feel the most tremendous guilt that has ever been felt in all the world for the things he’d done.

(Oh? Do you doubt him? But man, or dragon, or dwarf, or tabaxi, whatever he was--he’d always been the best. If he couldn’t be the very best killer, he could at least be the best at guilt.)

He would atone, he decided. He would atone for the rest of his life.

When the man who’d once been a dragon could stand and walk without pain, dressed in the woodcutter’s old clothes and boots, the woodcutter finally asked what his name was.

“Repentance,” the man said, and went on his way to seek it, and that was the last anybody ever saw of the great black dragon.

(Oh, you think there’s more? Of course there is. A man appeared in the city to the south, and set himself to punishing every evil, including himself, however he could, and there are enough stories about him to last hours. None of them are happy, of course--even when he found love, he could not allow it to bring him joy, because of course he deserved none. And so the man Repentance found himself bringing sorrow even now to those who came to care about him most, caught in an endless loop of sin, and so he could never forgive himself or be redeemed, no matter what. But at least he wasn’t a dragon.

Is that better?)

The woman who had once been the green dragon was even now a little cleverer than her first friend, and when she stood and realized that she was still a woman and not a dragon at all, she fled with a goal in mind.

It took days of careful, desperate travel, but she knew all the secret paths back to their lair in the mountains, where the three dragons had kept all the wealth and weapons they’d claimed as treasure over the years. The woman draped herself in finery that seemed coarser and fouler-smelling now than it had when she was enormous and beautiful without it. She put on the armor she’d plucked from the backs of knights, and then took it off again when it was too heavy, and eventually she had dressed and armed herself and filled a pack with as many riches as her new weak arms could carry, and set off again before anyone else could arrive to find her.

She found a port, and made her way onto a ship, bound over the sea to a land that had never known her as anything but this. She sailed for days, and planned out her future.

She had lost her claws and so much of her power, but the world was still built of games, was it not? And she could still play, with money and cleverness and secrets. She was beautiful, apparently, by the standards of people, even if she was so much less awesome and terrible than she’d once been. She could make claws out of daggers and a life out of this. She could be a lady, a thief, a queen. She could make do.

(You think she should be despairing, vengeful, angry? Woman or dragon, gnome or goliath, no matter what--she was always ready to carve joy out of any chest she could find. Why not find it again?)

When she disembarked in the new land, the guard at the port asked for her name. “Revelry,” she said, and went off to seek it, and that was the last anybody ever saw of the great green dragon.

(Oh, it’s a parable now, is it? Well. What good folk story isn’t?

You want the rest? She became a bandit queen and a baroness, and was feared and adored by many, and gathered riches and servants and lovers and secrets. You could tell stories for days about the wicked and cruel exploits of the Baroness Revelry, and some of them would be sexy, and some of them would be fun, and some of them would leave you feeling queasy in the pit of your stomach afterwards, and in some of them, you’d be on her side. After all, at least she wasn’t a dragon.

Is that enough?)

When the person who had once been the blue dragon awoke, they saw the witch of the village. They saw the look in her eyes. They saw the deep forest, and their own new delicate feet and hands and bones, and the torches from the other villagers approaching.

They stayed put.

The witch stayed, too, and watched them, and when the townspeople arrived she sent them away. The witch was a very long way from young, and not as beautiful as she should have been, for this to be a really good story, but--for all that, there was something of power in her eyes.

“What will you do now?” the witch asked of the person who had once been a blue dragon, who had not taken their own eyes from the witch’s face and her gnarled broomstick.

“I don’t know,” said the person who was not a dragon any longer, who did not see any benefit to lying. “What would you have me do?”

They were both quiet for a long moment as the witch looked the ex-dragon over, with her thoughts as impenetrable as a witch’s mind ever are. Then she said, “Come inside. I have floors that need sweeping and wood that will need chopping for the winter.”

The person who’d been a blue dragon slept on a pile of blankets on the witch’s floor. The witch gave them chores to do in return. They fetched water from the well, and scrubbed and cleaned, and learned to cook and tend a garden. It was not a thing like being a dragon, except for all the wrong reasons. The witch was small, and kind, and old, and not a bit of her was weak. The no-longer-dragon had never known anyone as relentlessly practical as themself before.

Nearly every day people from the village would come by. Some would come begging for help with colds and children and cows, and the witch was always kind to them, while her new lodger watched from the corner with sharp dragon-gold eyes. Others would come with gifts, a few eggs here or a sack of flour there. Sometimes the villagers with gifts had asked for help in the days before, and sometimes they hadn’t.

The person who was no longer a dragon asked questions, sometimes, and the witch would answer them, sometimes.

“Why do they bring you tribute? Do you require it of them?”

“No,” said the witch, and, “they do it because it is kind, and right, and makes their world better in the long run. Now go tend to the garden.”

Or, “Why do you not take over this village and half the countryside? You have the power for it.”

“Because I do not wish it,” said the witch, and, “because they do not need me to, and because they and I are all happier that I do not. Now go and tend the garden.”

Or, “Why are you kind to the ones who do not bring you gifts or tribute? They do nothing for you, but you are generous to them.”

“Because,” said the witch, “it is kind, and I am able, and they are not, and that is what it means to be a person. Now go and tend to the garden.”

Every time she answered a question, the witch would send them out to tend the garden. The ex-dragon was careful with every plant, because it was only foolish to be careless with a witch’s garden, and learned to water every one exactly as much as it needed. They learned to harvest berries and vegetables and herbs, and tend to the flowers and shrubs that produced nothing of any value, but only grew. And they began, little by little, to understand.

Eventually it was winter. The witch showed the one-time blue dragon how to drag their blankets closer to the fire, and how to chop the firewood and bank it at night to keep it going so they would both stay warm, and all the other things that needed to be done with the world frozen in white.

There was no more work to do in the garden, but by then the no-longer-dragon’s questions had changed, too.

“Why did you turn me into this?” The witch could have picked anything, after all--a rabbit or an insect or a stone, and never thought about it ever again. But she had chosen a person, who could walk and talk and think and work.

“Because it would save this village,” the witch said. “I had not a care for you at all. Now come and learn this potion.”

Or, weeks later, “Why did the villagers forgive me?” They still came every day, and nodded to the ex-dragon when they passed, and didn’t flinch to do it. They were not witches. They didn’t have her power.

“Because they don’t know who you are,” the witch said. “Or because they know and don’t care, or because you have done them no harm since coming here, or because they are too dead to hold a grudge, or perhaps they haven’t forgiven you at all and are only pretending. Now go and bring this amulet to the miller and his wife.”

Or, after even more weeks, when it was nearly spring--”Why did you let me stay?”

“You know the answer to that already,” said the witch. The person who had once ravaged the entire countryside as a great evil blue dragon found that they did know, after all. It was the same reason as the bushes with no berries and the amulet for the miller, and everything else, too.

“Is there a difference between a dragon and a person?” the dragon-who-wasn’t asked. “Between a tiefling and an aasimar and a human? Between anything at all?”

“You know the answer to that, too,” said the witch, and of course, of course they did, by now. “Ask what you really want to know.”

“Do you care now?” the person asked. “Do you care about me, even though you didn’t then?”

The witch’s hard face softened, then. “Do you?” she asked in return. “Have you learned to care, after all that?”

The person thought about needy bushes and hungry inchworms and a thousand trips to the well on foot, about tea with the miller’s wife and little brown eggs from the seamstress’s daughter. They thought about whether they already knew the witch’s response to this question too, in their heart, and what it would mean if they were wrong.

“You know the answer to that,” the person who was a witch’s apprentice now said, because they had learned well, and because some things hurt too much to admit if they’re not returned.

Then the witch stepped forward, finally, and pulled them into her arms like a mother. “You’re my own child, now,” she said. “Everything changes. The past only matters because it gave us what we have now.”

(Does it seem too easy? It’s not. Growth never, ever is.

It took more than a summer and a winter, when it really happened. It took more pain and more yelling and more doubt to build that trust. But it did grow. And the story’s tidier, like this.)

(And if the forgiveness here surprises you on either side, or the willingness to try, well--)

(Witches are practical down to their bones, and whether they use it to be cruel or kind or selfish or saviors-of-all is down to them, but they all know there’s no sense in discarding an outstretched hand when it’s offered. It worked, this time, for the right people with just the right amount of neediness and hope. Sometimes the world does that.)

By the time summer came around again, the witch’s apprentice had had plenty of time to think and ponder and consider who they were to become.

The only difference between a dragon and a person was their shape, after all, so what was evil for a person must also be evil for a dragon. What was wrong for a person must also be wrong for a dragon, and always had been, whether the dragon they’d been had known it or not. So: they had done great evil, long ago and far away, and could not make it undone. What next?

The witch, who was just as practical as her apprentice, sat and talked to them as they cooked and knit and worked potions and spells together in the hut all winter long, and by the time the world was warm again, the apprentice had made a decision.

“I can’t stay,” they said. “I’ve done too much harm in the world. I need to go out and do it good instead.”

“Because you think it will fix things?” the witch asked, to make sure, and also because she had grown to love her apprentice as her own child and did not want to see them leave, either.

“No,” said the apprentice, who had learned well. “Because it’s kind and right and I’m able.”

“So be it,” said the witch, and hugged them close, and said, “Be Resolve, then, and return safe when you can.”

“Resolve,” the new druid said. They went off not to seek it, for they’d already found it in their own heart, but to see it through.

And that was the last anybody ever saw of the blue dragon.

And that’s the end of the story.

(Well. It’s an end.)

(Oh, you want to know about the Hero Resolve? There are months‘ worth of stories about that, and you’d probably know a few dozen of them yourself already, if you lived in Nokomoris. They all go more or less the same way, really.)

(The Hero Resolve arrives in a town, or a valley or kingdom or mountain or an island in the middle of the sea, and someone, somewhere, is suffering. They find somebody with the power to do something about it. It might be the sufferer themself, sometimes, but usually it’s not. Maybe it’s the local lord who’s too distracted to notice the problem, or the local witch who’s too overwhelmed to cope. Maybe the local bandits are too incompetent at stealing to provide for their children. Resolve isn’t always picky in the way you’d expect, when they choose who to give advice.)

(The advice isn’t always easy to follow, mind you. There’s hardly a good story in that. But if they do follow Resolve’s suggestions--they’ll live happily ever after, eventually.)

(If not, Resolve will generally have to beat them up first, with shillelagh staff or beast form or just a bit of bare-handed cleverness, probably, depending on who’s telling the story. But everyone else will live happily ever after anyway.)

(And that’s it. That’s the Hero Resolve. They roamed for years, back and forth across the continent, to every place you could ever name. They fixed a lot of problems. They probably took a couple levels in monk or something. Every culture on Nokomoris has some variant on the Stubborn Hero stories if you ask.)

...

(Oh, you want more?)

(Well then.)

Once upon a time, as the Hero Resolve was out wandering the land, they came upon a rumor of a great evil on the other side of the sea.

(There, that’s how these stories are supposed to start, right?)

Since they had nothing else better to do that afternoon, they packed up their staff and their lunch and all their magic items, the bow with a string spun from spider-silk that could send an arrow through solid rock, the cloak that looked like a midsummer sky dyed with berries grown in water from the Spring of Life, and so on and so forth, as y’do. They took a boat and sailed over to the kingdom on the other side of the sea and asked the crew and the passengers what they’d heard in these rumors about a cruel baroness who tormented the land with her powers, and pondered how they’d deal with the problem when they got there.

They had just about enough information to go looking for the Baroness’s castle when they disembarked in port, and found it in short enough order. Some versions say they asked a magpie for help. Other versions say the Baroness sent the magpie herself, to invite the renowned hero into her parlor, looking for another game or--

Or who knows what. The important thing is that Resolve found themself ushered into a lavish entryway draped in silver and velvet, and from there into an even more lavish parlor draped in damask and gold, and then into an even more lavish dining room draped in platinum and silk. They were still dressed in their sea-salt-stained traveling leathers, with their spidersilk bow and their sky blue cloak. They had their iron knife at their belt, and their staff that had been a gift from the witch when they first left home, that looked like nothing so much as the gnarled stick of a broom with the bristles pulled off. And there in the dining room of sumptuous luxury, they sat down to wait.

When the Baroness herself came in, she was--well, nobody is quite sure what she was, gnome or tiefling or even a tall graceful elf, in a world before elves. She could have been dragonborn or human or one of the cat-people, bird-people, turtle-people from the south, who knows? It’s different every time somebody tells the story. Everybody agrees, though, on this: that she was as breathtakingly beautiful as a single moon on a pitch-dark night, and that her eyes glittered the color of gold.

Their eyes met, the Hero Resolve and the Baroness Revelry, two pairs of dragon-gold eyes in faces that should not have held them. For one long, breathless moment, it was as though no time had passed at all, and then they fell into each others’ arms and hugged with arms they’d never had to put around each other before.

Resolve and Revelry slept that night curled up like lovers in Revelry’s enormous fur-draped bed. They spoke, a little, about where and how and who they’d been in all the years since they’d seen each other. They hid more. The Great Hero Resolve had made a whole life out of seeing the end of the sort of deeds the Evil Baroness Revelry had made a life out of seeing done. There was only so much they could admit to each other of themselves.

And yet...they were still both of them so very much themselves. Revelry’s grin and sparkling wicked wit still brought Resolve to helpless laughter. Resolve’s steadiness and dry understated insight warmed and calmed a thing in Revelry’s chest that had not been calm in so many years. They had neither of them been quite this happy in all the time they’d been apart, and now, back with each other again, it seemed like the real loss hadn’t been their claws and fangs and wings at all.

Resolve was used to sleeping lightly and waking early. The witch always rose with the sun, and it was only sensible for a hero on the road, whether they camped by the side of the road or in haylofts or let themself be made a guest of anywhere. They opened their eyes with the first light of dawn, and looked down at the woman sleeping next to them, and thought about the sharp edge of their iron belt knife, which had killed fiends and monsters and people.

It would be simple, to do the job they’d come here to do. They loved their oldest, dearest friend, of course they did, but--

How does an evil thing love? It seemed impossible that Resolve could have ever really loved their dragon-companions, back when they were still a dragon, before they understood what love or evil or being a person even meant. It seemed impossible for Resolve to still love her now, and if Revelry was still the same as she had been, how could she ever love anything at all in return?

The Hero Resolve felt the hilt of their knife on the floor beside the bed, and watched their long-lost heart’s companion sleep until Revelry opened her eyes, glinting golden in the morning sun. And looking at those eyes, Resolve let the knife go, and promised themself that they would try again tomorrow.

That day they breakfasted together, and Revelry showed Resolve all the halls of her manor and all the gardens of her estate, and Resolve showed off some of their many shapes and forms, and they told longer and truer stories about their lives. Resolve tried to grasp for their namesake every time they caught a glimpse of the evil in Revelry’s stories, again and again, all afternoon and all night. They slept tangled together in the same bed again.

And so they lived for a week, with Resolve trying to find conviction within themself and failing, with Revelry discovering more joy in her long-lost friend than she’d felt in all the years in between, with Resolve’s iron knife tucked safely beneath their pillow in Revelry’s bed every night.

On the seventh morning, Resolve got as far as drawing the knife in hand. They’d thought a million times this week about attacking their old friend in the middle of the day, and every time they caught sight of those old familiar eyes, they lost the nerve. Murdering a sleeping lover in her very bed...it was cowardly and dishonorable, of course, but it would be effective. Effective mattered more than honorable. Resolve had learned that from the witch all those years ago.

Results mattered more than intentions. Fine, Resolve loved Revelry with so much of their heart that this might break them forevermore. So what? Revelry was a monster, a scourge on the land around her, a murderer and worse. That mattered. Resolve’s own heart would heal, or wouldn’t. They’d slaughtered too many people in their own time for their feelings to be worth more than the lives of Revelry’s future victims now.

And yet, as they sat poised with knife in hand, watching Revelry sleep...once more, they hesitated. And this time, when Revelry opened her eyes, she saw the knife before Resolve could tuck it away.

“Are you going to kill me, my love?” Revelry asked, as calmly as a still summer morning.

“Yes,” said Resolve. “Yes I am, because whatever you are to me, you bring so much suffering to the rest of the world. It’s kind and right to do this, and I’m able, and whatever else I am or ever have been, I choose to be a person.”

Revelry nodded a long, slow nod in the quiet of the room’s dawn light. Resolve waited for her to grab for a weapon or a spell or Resolve’s own staff, for the Baroness had become quite a wizard in her own right in the time since they’d known each other last. And they waited, poised and frozen, until Revelry said,

“Then I’ll let you.”

Resolve drew back in shock and confusion, and Revelry continued, “I’ve felt more joy this week with you than from any thing I’ve seen or done in all the years we’ve been apart. I’d rather you kill me than watch you leave again. I’d rather know I could at least make you happy.”

“This won’t make me happy,” Resolve snapped, with tears in their eyes. “It has to be done, even if it does ruin me to do it, but that doesn’t make me happy about it.”

Revelry frowned, then, and for the first time began to reach below her own pillow. “Really?”

“You know I love you,” said Resolve, and all in a flurry their iron knife met the rod Revelry kept tucked safely to hand in bed every night, just in case--though this hadn’t been the way she’d expected to use it.

“Then I can’t let you kill me,” Revelry said, rolling to her feet and facing off against the great hero now, both of them barely armed and dressed in bedclothes, squaring off with the enormous fur-draped bed between them. “I love you too much to let anything make you miserable, including yourself, whatever you think about your morals now.” And then they fell to fighting.

It was a strange, furious half-battle, both of them trying too hard not to hurt the other in spite of themselves, desperately working to keep their voices down before the servants of the house could hear and came running. They twisted and fought, arguing the whole time--

“I can’t just let you keep doing the things you’ve always done! You were given a chance at a whole new life, and still you’ve chosen to be a monster!”

“Why do you care about them? What are any of them worth that you care more about them than yourself?”

“Because they’re people! And I’m a person! And so are you, but you don’t want to be!”

“If I stop tricking idiots to their deaths, will that make you happy? And keep you from trying to do something ridiculous and self-destructive like murdering your own lover in the name of honor?”

“It doesn’t count if you’re only doing it to please me! I can’t be the only thing in the whole world you care about! Your entire morality can’t just be me!”

“Well why not?”

And they fell back, both of them panting and bloodied, in now-ragged night gowns, staring at each other from opposite sides of a destroyed room.

“I don’t care about torturing them,” said Revelry. “It’s fun. I don’t care if it makes me evil, I don’t care about them or their feelings or their stupid little lives, but I care about you. I’ll stop it all, if you ask me to.”

“This is a terrible foundation for a relationship,” Resolve said. “But fine.”

(Yes, I’m taking liberties with the story. Know your audience, they say. Most of the time that bit’s just a lot of arguing, or more violent and less dramatic or romantic depending on who’s telling it, but who doesn’t love a good half-naked sword fight? Why ruin the tattered nightgowns thinking about the fact that the two major participants are mainly caster-classes, anyway?)

(One of them is clearly an illogical idiot, you say. Fair enough, but let’s table the discussion there before you and your neighbors get into your own virtual brawl over which one it is. They’re both illogical idiots. That’s how love--and fairytales-- work.)

(Want a life lesson from this one? Don’t turn a single person into your entire moral compass and your whole world. Also, don’t try to force yourself to stab the person you’re in love with for the Greater Good. None of this exactly how it actually went, and it only worked out in the end with a whole lot of luck and a lot more hard work than we have time and space for here. This is a fairytale. It’s not meant to be exact history.)

(But yes, from me to you--it did really end happily-ever-after, even when it actually happened. Or at least, as-happily-as-ever, which is about as good as real life ever gets.)

In the end, Resolve and Revelry slipped off in the middle of the afternoon, without a single word to the servants or any sign of their going. Revelry brought a single small bag of tools and treasure, less even than she’d taken from her old hoard when she first began this life, and they boarded a boat back across the sea under fake names, with secret grins that threatened to burst out into laughter at every moment.

Resolve brought Revelry back to the home of the witch who they still called Mother, and introduced her by name, and did not explain the details of their past, although the witch was canny and clever and figured it out right away anyway. Eventually, when Resolve ventured forth across the land once again, Revelry came with them, and together they learned to turn saving-the-world into a game interesting enough to keep Revelry’s attention even when Resolve wasn’t watching them at every moment. She never did quite learn to embrace guilt or regret, but she grew to find a soft spot for scrappy, clever underdogs who just needed half a chance to learn to fight.

They did eventually come to the city where the man Repentance lived and worked, and met him and embraced him again, for a while. He still remembered his love for the blue dragon, but he could not forgive his one-time companions for their pasts any more than he could forgive himself. Revelry, at least, was easy for him to condemn and hate, but most especially he could not understand how Resolve might have come to see the evil of their past crimes and yet still willingly laugh and live and find joy in it all anyway. In the end they parted ways quickly, for while they all three of them now sought to bring good to the world, Resolve and Revelry chose to pursue it through happiness and hope, and Repentence could only see regret.

And so they traveled on for many years, and lived very nearly happily for very nearly forever after, and that’s all there is to the story of the Hero Resolve and the Baroness Revelry.

The end.

(No, I mean it this time.)

(Look, that’s the end of the story! There’s plenty of other little side-stories and folktales in there, but whenever anybody on Onde actually tells this story, this is where it ends. That’s how it goes!)

(Yes, I mean it.)

(Yes, I realize I've said that these are two extremely high-level spellcasters, both of whom remember spending centuries of their lives as nigh-immortal dragons and one of whom has barely found enough of a sense of right and wrong to qualify as Chaotic Neutral. And I’m suggesting they lived out the rest of their short natural lives as a couple of flightless humanoids and never found a way to correct their lives or forms. And they never ran into any desperate tragedy of disparate species lifespans, or had to deal with archdruid timeless body, or--)

(Yes. Yes, I did say at the beginning of the post that this was the story of my very favorite near-godlike NPC, but--)

(Okay. Okay, fine.)

(There’s one more thing to know.)

(This isn’t part of the story, though, so don’t go spreading it around. Nobody on Onde knows this part, except for those that do. And that’s a story for a very different day.)

True Polymorph is a ninth-level spell. It can transform any willing wizard or druid who’s already at a high enough level to cast it into a fully-grown adult green or blue dragon with ease. It’s permanent, if you concentrate on it for a full hour. And dragons can cast spells, even the sorts of spells that would let them turn back into an old humanoid form that’s gotten comfortable and familiar, and maybe they rarely learn to do much in the first thousand years or so of life, but most dragons aren’t forced to live as humanoids for a couple of decades or centuries to figure out how, so--

Well. True Polymorph lasts without being concentrated on, anyway, once it sticks, but--even it doesn’t tend to hold up well to dropping to zero hit points or running afoul of a Dispel Magic, after a while.

(Yes, the RAW are ambiguous, here. And? This is Onde. True Polymorph can guide the world into holding a new shape indefinitely, but it can’t rewrite the truth of existence.)

A fully-grown adult dragon may not find themself reduced to zero hit points all that often, but Resolve and Revelry weren’t about to give up adventuring just to return to their old forms forever. Dispel could get...awkward. There had to be a safer way, didn’t there?

“How did you make it stay?” Resolve asked the witch, so many years later that even an archdruid such as the witch had become old. She shook her head.

“There’s a spell,” she said. “With components I never saw in all my life before or since. They’re long gone now.”

(Was it a spell? Was it a one-use spell scroll, enchanted in centuries gone by and long forgotten? Was it a magic item?)

(Does the nature of the MacGuffin matter, in the end, or just its effect?)

“But the spell exists” said Resolve--and, well, what are heroes for if not tracking down mysteries and finding components? Plane-shifting to gather sap from the forests of the gods, or the bones of every material plane, or the dust from the plains below Sigil itself, or--well. Does that matter, either, the how?

It’s very difficult to tell a legendary hero that there’s no way.

(They transformed the man Repentance back, too, when they changed themselves. It took them two days to hunt him down and slaughter him, two dragons against one, when he decided that it was his duty as a dragon again to do exactly the thing that dragons were for.)

(It goes like that, sometimes. Not every redemption arc quite works. You can tell yourself that he let his oldest companions rip his throat out, in the end, out of the last shards of love for them or horror at what he’d become. It might be true.)

(Everybody learns. What they learn, on the other hand, is entirely up to them.)

There are people to the west of the Western Wall mountains, in the dragonlands where all colors of dragon are common, and known, and feared, who tell a story about a high valley in the dry lands of the peaks, surrounded by dense pine forests and bare dust-blasted stone and open sky. If you need something--if you truly need something, and you’re desperate enough to do what it takes to get it, you can climb up there looking and ask.

You’ll get advice from somebody, if you’re lucky, if you can make it past the storms and the woods and the heights up the secret paths to get there. Follow it no matter what, however hard it is, and things will turn out happily ever after for you in the end. If you reject the advice, things will turn out happily ever after for someone, probably, but there’s a good chance you’ll get your ass kicked on top of the problems you already had, first.

It’s not a bad place to retire, when you’re old and enormous enough to call yourself truly Ancient. Ruling the whole world is a nice idea to toss around every couple of decades, but really, it’s such a lot of work, and--really, it’s enough of a job just being your wife’s conscience (or letting your spouse be your conscience), let alone taking on an entire planet full of other people too. Better, really, to let things go along on their own way.

It’s not a bad place to raise children up here, either. Oh, there’s plenty of bloodlust and rage in most wyrmlings of any color, but--what’s bloodlust and rage got to do with anything? How is anyone supposed to learn how to be a person, without somebody there to teach them that they are?

They go their own way, when they’re old enough, and some of them for the better and some of them for the worse, but--

Well. That really is beyond the end of this story. There’s no telling what hasn’t happened yet.

As to ‘happily-ever-after’...

That’s a fairytale ending, of course. Resolve and Revelry have been to the feywild plenty enough times to know a fair few fairy tales direct from the source themselves, but at this point, we’re not really telling a campfire bedtime story any more, is it? Now it’s just backstory for a couple of NPCs who are still alive. They’re as happy as any old married couple who’s had centuries to grow into each other.

They’re not quite gods, because even an ancient dragon with an archwizard’s spellbook or an archdruid’s control is still a creature of flesh and blood and bone, and mortal in their own way. Some villain or hero or furious ex-student, some god or quest or just old age and ennui will get them eventually. No telling how, though, or when. No telling what might happen in the mean time.

No telling when the Hero Resolve might pull on a different shape and go on walkabout for another few years once again, with or without their love at their side, and see what they’re able to do for the world.

#C the DM #worldbuilding #fairytales #d&d #dragons #C writes stuff #I've been sitting on this story for AGES #so glad I was able to incorporate it into this D&D world #original fiction #story time

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recentanimenews · 3 years

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ESSAY: How Does My Hero Academia Fit Into Global Superhero Culture?

In 1989, Batman became the first film to make over $40 million in its opening weekend. In 2002, Spider-Man became the first film to make over $100 million in its opening weekend. In 2007, Spider-Man 3 hit over $150 million. In 2012, The Avengers nabbed over $200 million. And in 2019, Avengers: Endgame got over $350 million. Despite the fact that there have been concerns over “superhero movie fatigue” for literal decades now, it’s a genre that shows no signs of slowing down. As its universes expand on streaming services like Disney+, it’s apparent the age of the cinematic hero might be an indefinitely lengthy one.

As Marvel Comics luminary Stan Lee once said: “The pleasure of reading a story and wondering what will come next for the hero is a pleasure that has lasted for centuries and, I think, will always be with us.” In that quote, it seems our destiny is almost sealed — we crave heroes and we crave their stories and we crave their sequels.

This is the environment in which My Hero Academia was born.

My Hero Academia is, first and foremost, a superhero story. One could argue that most narratives of its ilk are superhero tales — anime like Dragon Ball, Naruto, One Piece, and others are full of good guys shutting down malicious attempts at local or world domination — but My Hero Academia embraces the iconography, both thematic and physical, of the superhero in a way that many other stories don’t. In fact, it might be one of the purest explorations of that kind of universe ever in fiction. It’s a world where heroism is practically currency, where roughly 80 percent of the earth’s population is imbued with some kind of inherent genetic power.

Populating your superhero story with powerful people instead of going the typical cinematic route of having one or two supernatural characters with a supporting cast of everyday folk might have been subversive 20 years ago. But in the age of the Avengers, where multiple heroes cross in and out of each other's storylines and the narrative objective was to eventually wrangle them all in one mega-movie, My Hero Academia fits comfortably. That doesn’t render it as uninteresting, though. Instead, rather than build to the issues that will inevitably crop up in a world full of Supermen, these themes are inherent in the story.

As such, most of the plotlines have to do with the idea of rampant heroism and the backlash that it would create. Plenty of superhero films address this (multiple Batman movies make the case that if there were no Batman there would be no Joker), but in My Hero Academia it is a constant struggle. Overhaul, wearing a variation of a 17th-century plague doctor mask, looks at these “Quirks” as if they’re a disease. Stain is against superheroes using their status for fame. Tomura Shigaraki wishes to destroy society as we know it, hating its values and its borderline divine treatment of figures like All-Might. These patterns are not just repeated in My Hero Academia, but inevitable. They are anime embodiments of that “superhero fatigue” article I shared above, except in this case they hurt and destroy in their attempts to find an alternative to the super status quo, rather than write essays in The New York Times.

It’s certainly an enthralling formula, though: My Hero Academia continues to be a best seller and has won numerous awards. Its anime has been similarly well-received. Despite the fact that superhero films very rarely have the same box office prominence in Japan as they do in America, My Hero Academia has been able to make an impact. That might be because, at its core, My Hero Academia adapts the ethos found in a hero that many Japanese creators really do enjoy: Spider-Man.

Kohei Horikoshi, My Hero Academia’s creator, loves Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man films. Creator of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Hirohiko Araki gushed over his love of Spider-Man 2 to director Sam Raimi during an interview. Yusuke Murata, illustrator of One-Punch Man, has done some absolutely amazing work when it comes to posters for Peter Parker’s cinematic adventures. Hideo Kojima, a video game designer whose creations are absolutely inspired by anime, called Into The Spider-Verse a “great masterpiece” and was “moved” by Spider-Man 2. After it became the best-selling game to be developed in the West but funded by Sony since 1998, Japanese game developers voted Marvel’s Spider-Man as their 2018 game of the year. So why the embrace of this particular character?

Journalist Kuremasa Uno told the Japanese site Business+IT that it’s because Japanese youth are more accustomed to embracing younger heroes. Since so much of Spider-Man’s Hollywood journey deals with him experiencing problems as a teenager and young adult, he fits in among the protagonists of series like Gundam or Naruto. Hideo Kojima even told Famitsu that Spider-Man is “similar to Japanese heroes,” as he has “worries.”

The aspect of youth is particularly interesting, as it’s what often renders heroes like Spider-Man to be the most relatable of all of their peers and rivals. In the comic book world, age tends to warp characters, turning them into beacons of impossible standards rather than troubled everymen. We have little in common with the hulking, aging Batman snapping bones in Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight Returns. We are enthralled with the story on a narrative level. Even the legendary curmudgeon of the comic book industry, the supremely talented Alan Moore, found The Dark Knight Returns fascinating because it gave a hero a chance to end, rather than cycle through an eternal series of escapades. If you know Moore’s stance on heroes, that’s high praise, but it’s hard to connect with him no matter how cool he looks taking down the Mutant Leader.

In youth we find common ground. We all grow up, and for the most part, we all experience that mix of angst, desperation, and uncertainty that comes with finding yourself on a bullet train to adulthood. In my interview with Matt Alt, author of Pure Invention: How Japan’s Pop Culture Conquered The World, the writer/historian affirmed these feelings as especially true in anime: “It doesn’t look at adolescence as a lesser form of adulthood and it doesn’t condescend to the young people experiencing problems.” That is true of My Hero Academia, which treats Midoriya’s teenage problems as valid and worth concern, and is also true to Stan Lee’s affinity for Spider-Man: “He’s the one who’s most like me — nothing ever turns out 100 percent OK; he’s got a lot of problems and he does things wrong, and I can relate to that.”

So perhaps it is in collecting a cast of characters that, like Spider-Man, are all dealing with youthful problems that Horikoshi found the fantastic formula for My Hero Academia. It’s a world with teachers and Pro Heroes, but there is no real equivalent of a Justice League, no impenetrable class of demi-gods to impart moral lessons on not just younger heroes but the world at large.

Instead, much like in real-life youth, the characters of My Hero Academia and the class of 1A must discover those lessons for themselves. With that, the reasons for the aforementioned creators’ adoration of films like the Spider-Man trilogy and Into the Spider-Verse seemingly become more clear. Though these films feature a ... ummm ... supportive supporting cast, the integrity must come from the hero alone in the end, no matter how tough their obstacles become. You are born with Quirks, but how you choose to implement them for the good of mankind is up to you. Great power, great responsibility, etc.

My Hero Academia and Spider-Man are not a 1:1 comparison as, again, the basics of its world and the attributes of its cast fit it more firmly with late-term Avengers films where dozens of heroes interact in a spectacle created by the sheer existence of their number. My Hero Academia rarely feels as lonely as Spider-Man tends to be. But in capturing the relatable qualities of adolescence and focusing on the “quirks” of what is essentially high school life, it does manage to hit some of the same high notes, notes that I imagine contributed greatly to its popularity.

Does that mean All-Might is an Uncle Ben character, with his “Now it’s your turn” point to Midoriya serving a similar purpose to the “Great responsibility” speech? Eh, a little bit. But in relating it to the superhero genre that currently forms an entertainment monolith around the world, especially when it has to do with the character of Spider-Man, we start to unlock some of the reasons why My Hero Academia has been such a powerhouse series over the past few years. You can see just as much of Midoriya in Peter Parker as you can in guys like Naruto or Asta — characters that aren’t relatable simply because they’re young, but because we connect to their experiences of youth, experiences that are somehow both deeply specific and also beautifully universal.

Daniel Dockery is a Senior Staff Writer for Crunchyroll. Follow him on Twitter!

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features.

By: Daniel Dockery

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

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🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 022 [Winchester’s Starting Line]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 3,282

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“You know you’re fighting in a losing battle, Making a noose out of your hollow crown. I hold a match up to your paper castle, and watch it all burn down.” Ellie Goulding, “Hollow Crown”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

The smoke cleared and the boss was on the other end of the room, his body embedded in the back wall. The male standing in front of me was breathing heavily, sword poised in front of him in both hands. Wait, I recognize that mop of green hair!

“Izuku?”

He glanced over his shoulder, giving me a nervous smile. “H-Hi, Jen-san.” He was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt under a green vest. His hands were covered by gloves and he wore a brown utility belt around his waist, legs covered by blue pants. He’s also a swordmaster.

“Deku?! What the fuck are you doing here?!” Bakugo yelled, stomping over to the boy.

“U-Um, I… you looked like… you n-needed help…”

“Hah?! As if I’d ever need help from a nerd like you!”

“You say that, but Winchester would have been a goner if he hadn’t stepped in when he did.” Iida approached the two, dressed in a suit of armor, his helmet tucked under his arm. He’s the knight class.

“That’s her fault for being a fucking weakling!”

“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes, coughing again.

“Don’t worry, Jen, I can heal you!” Ochaco smiled brightly as she kneeled beside me, dressed in a short tan dress with a red hood over her head. Black leggings covered her legs, disappearing into brown boots. She carried a wooden staff, her right hand wearing a red glove. She’s the mage class. Ochaco hovered her hand above my stomach and it started to glow purple before my health shot up. “There, all better!”

“Thanks,” I pulled myself to my feet, dusting off my pants.

Iida snapped his gaze to me. “Why are you here? You’re not even level fifty yet!”

My eyes narrowed. “I’m half a pubic hair from being fifty. Fuck you.”

His cheeks burned. “E-Either way, this area is far too advanced for you! Show some responsibility for your actions.”

“You know, you really fucking piss me off, Prep.”

“P-Prep? My name is -!”

“I don’t fucking care,” I scoffed. “Oi, Bakuhoe. You got five minutes to finish this bitch off before I call it quits. I’m fuckin’ hungry and now in a bad mood.”

“Che, don’t tell me what to do!” He turned his back to me. “Let’s go, shitty hair!”

“Right!” Kirishima blew smoke from his nose.

Izuku and Iida joined the fight, while Ochaco stuck close to me with a magical shield up in case the boss decided to attack me again. Ten minutes passed and Kirishima dealt the finishing blow with a swipe of his clawed hand. Or is it a paw? Dragons don’t have paws right? Feet? But that makes me think of the back legs not the front.

As the boss shattered, an annoying jingling started to go off in my ear like I had just won the fucking jackpot on a slot machine. My level shot through the roof, jumping from forty-nine to seventy-nine. My body feels lighter, stronger, and now I have a shit ton of power points to assign again. For fuck’s sake.

Kirishima’s body started to shrink back to human form and he fell back onto his ass, a bright grin on his face. “I can’t believe we did it! You’re super strong, Midoriya!”

The greenette flushed at the praise, not missing Bakugo’s glare. “N-No, I’m really not -”

“Of course he is!” Iida pushed up his glasses. “Not only is he max level, but he also has the legendary Allmiber!”

Allmiber? What, is that the fucking love child of All Might and Excalibur?

“How the fuck did you hit max level?! And where the fuck did you get the most OP weapon in the damn game?!” Bakugo demanded, trying to grab the front of Izuku’s shirt, but the anti-PVP system prevented him from doing so.

“That’s so cool!” Kirishima jumped to his feet, eyes sparkling. “Only five people in the entire game have managed to find Allmiber!”

“And you, shitty hair!” Bakugo’s vermillion eyes snapped to the red-head, pointing an angry finger at his face. “How the fuck are you a Dragonling?!”

“What’s a Dragonling?” Ochaco whispered from behind me.

Izuku answered, his eyes shining. “Dragonlings are the rarest race in the whole game! They can’t be chosen or even bought, you can only get it as a drop from a powerful boss. The drop rate itself is only .01% and the drop location changes every week. They say that Dragonlings are unbeatable because of their massive health bars and insane defense and armor. They’re also the only race in the game that can change their forms in battle! Their dragon forms have been called the gods of the game! Did you know that the creator -”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, sweatdropping as he continued to ramble on about the game. A simple, ‘it’s rare!’ woulda been fine, ya know. But Ochaco and Iida are listening intently to him, as usual, nodding their head every few words.

Kirishima laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just killing some scarecrows for a quest and it dropped.”

“You got a Dragonling from a fucking level five quest?! I’ll kill you!”

My lips tugged down as I watched the two groups interacting with each other. Why do I feel a sudden pang in my heart? I cursed, turning toward the exit portal that had opened up after the boss with destroyed. It took me back to town and I quickly logged out of the game, pulling myself off the wooden floor and turning the console off. I can still hear Bakugo screaming over the phone and I hesitated.

Should I say something? I decided I didn’t want to bother them and just ended the group call without a word, glancing at the clock. Nine-thirty.

The front door opened and closed, Toshi stepped into the living room looking tired and ragged. He smiled when he saw me. “Hello, young Jen. What would you like me to make for dinner?”

I grunted, pushing past him before he could step into the kitchen. “I wanna work on my cooking skull. You don’t mind, yeah?”

He sent me a confused look, but it soon melted to one of warmth. “That’s fine with me. I’m guessing tacos since I lifted the ban?”

“Nah. I’m in the mood for some curry.”

“Oh…” he shifted in the doorway, watching me closely. “Is anything bothering you?”

I sent him a small smile. “I spent all day playing an RPG with Bakugo, so I’ve just got a bit of headache.”

He sweatdropped. “That’ll do it. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

My smile dropped as soon as the bathroom door closed. To be honest, I don’t really know why I’m suddenly feeling so… isolated and down, I guess? I don’t wanna worry him, especially when I don’t even technically know what my problem is. Thinking about it, a lot of time has passed since I came to this world, since I started at U.A.

While everyone else has been forging friendships, I’ve been too damn busy keeping people at a distance. I haven’t made any efforts at all. Bakugo only asked me to play with him because he had no one else, but now he knows that the golden trio and Kirishima also play. They don’t need a low level to babysit that knows nothing about the game.

I groaned, rubbing my forehead in frustration. “Why is this bothering me? Get a grip.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

My phone buzzed for the millionth time and I sighed, opening my messages. From Bakugo:

‘Where the fuck did u go?’

‘Oi, fuckin answer me’

‘…somethings wrong aint it?’

‘Stop fucking ignoring me!’

And from a number I didn’t recognize:

‘Hey Winchester! Got ur number from Bakugo!’

‘This is Kirishima btw’

‘Whyd u log out so suddenly? Everything ok?’

‘That sword u got is really cool btw, it costs a million gold!’

My brow furrowed. Why did he give my number to Kirishima? Why’d he want it in the first place? Are they really worried about me? And that sword… why did Bakugo give me something that’s worth so damn much? I don’t understand anything.

I sighed, throwing my phone onto the couch before plopping down onto the floor so I could put my sneakers on. I heard shuffling behind me as Toshi walked quietly down the hall, pausing when he noticed me.

“Young Jen, you’re up early!”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Toshi.”

“You’re never awake when I leave in the mornings.” He commented, sliding his feet into the over-sized loafers. He suddenly grinned, his body expanding as he took on his muscle form. “Shall I carry you to school today? Ahahaha!”

I rolled my eyes as I pushed the door open. “I’m not a kid, but I’m sure Izuku would take you up on that offer, though.”

He laughed again, closing and locking the door. “I’m sure he would! By the way, I wanted to thank you for befriending young Midoriya. I feel more at ease knowing that you’re there to watch his back.”

“I’d hardly call myself his friend,” I muttered under my breath.

“Hm? What was that?”

“I said you’re welcome.”

He smiled brightly, slapping my shoulder. “Be safe on your way to school, young Jen!” He kneeled down, kicking off the ground as he took to the sky. I waited until he was out of sight before starting to walk, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

It was still dark outside, the neighborhood peaceful as the residents slept. Crickets chirped tiredly in the distance, pausing when the wind blew through the trees. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always found solace in the darkness. I’ve always been a night owl, preferring to be awake through the night rather than during the day. Maybe it’s because I hate the sun, or maybe it’s because there are fewer people around at night… I don’t really know the reason. This little strip of time before the sun starts to rise makes me feel at peace.

I took my time walking to school and the sun was just starting to glare over the horizon as I walked through the archway, casting shades of orange and purple across the sky. It was beautiful, sure, but I ain’t fond of the sun.

I entered the school building, heading for class 1-A. The room was empty and, for a minute, I just stood in the doorway. It felt weird without the loud chatter of the other students. It was eerie, like I had just stepped into an alternate dimension or some shit.

“Fuckin’ creepy,” I muttered, flicking on the light before heading to my desk. What do I do now? I left my phone behind, so I can’t play any games. I guess I could work on my homework… I started it last night but couldn’t concentrate so I ended up giving up and going to bed. Scrunching my nose up, I grabbed my notebook and the worksheets we had been given and got to work.

The door slid open a few minutes later and I glanced up, meeting surprised heterochromatic eyes. I returned my gaze to my notebook, where I was working on a doodle of Deadpool wearing a taco hat. At least he ain’t glaring at me, but the day is still young.

The legs of the chair scraped against the floor as he sat at his desk. He was quiet for a moment before speaking up, almost hesitantly. “Good morning,”

I raised a brow at him, but he was staring down at his desk. “Uh… sure.”

“Are you all healed up?”

“Yeah,”

“That’s good,” he nodded his head, pulling his notebook from his bag. “Does my voice really keep you calm?”

I nearly snapped my pencil, a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek. Damn, talk about being blunt. I cleared my throat, “Why are you even talkin’ to me?”

His eyes met mine, growing wide. “Should I not be?”

I shrugged. “You’ve always seemed perfectly content just glaring at me.”

Peppermint quickly looked away, his hair covering his eyes. “I’m sorry. You just… remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

He was silent for a moment and I figured he wasn’t going to answer. When he finally did, his voice was like ice. “My father,”

I raised a brow, humming. So a pretty boy with daddy issues, huh? Interesting. “Right. Good to know I remind you of an old man.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he mumbled, his cheeks gaining some color. “Will you answer my question now?”

“Yes, you have a calming voice. Happy?” I sighed, turning back to my notebook. Man, I accidentally stabbed Deadpool in the face.

The door slid open again and Fumi stepped inside, tilting his head as his eyes met mine. He approached my desk with a smile. “Good morning, Jen-san.”

“Sup, Fumi.”

“You’re usually one of the last to arrive. It’s quite alarming to see you here so early.”

“Sheesh, a girl tries to be a diligent student and everyone thinks the world is comin’ to an end.” I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “I wanted to try somethin’ new, but don’t worry, I hate it and won’t be doing it again.”

He chuckled, his eyes scanning my notebook. “You did this problem wrong,”

“Heh?” I glanced at the math problem he was pointing at. “Fuck math,”

“If you’d like, I can give you a hand.”

“For sure, thanks Fumi. The last thing I need is a lecture from Ectoplasm about not paying attention in his class.”

He nodded toward the pencil. “May I?”

“Go for it,” I watched as he scribbled down a number on the corner of the page.

“You can message me anytime you find yourself stuck and I will do my best to assist you.”

“Yeah, I will.” I smiled at him. “Thanks, Fumi.”

He nodded, returning the smile before heading to his desk. I caught Peppermint’s gaze but he quickly looked away. What’s his deal today?

Students slowly started to filter into the room and the silence morphed into loud chatter. In a way, their loud natures is annoying as all hell, but… I think I prefer it over the alternative.

“Wait, who are you?”

I glanced up at the sound of Alien’s voice, seeing Rin standing in the doorway. What’s he doing here?

He bowed, offering a kind smile. “My name is Hiryuu Rin from class 1-B next door. I’m looking for Winchester,”

Her eyes fell on me, half-hidden behind Momo. I stood up and approached him, grabbing his wrist and tugging him from the room. I could already hear her excited whispers. I swear if she starts spreading some stupid shit… I brought Rin to the stairway, which only had a few students passing by. As soon as I turned toward him, his arms were thrown around my neck, my body tensing at the contact.

“Uhh…”

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He spoke with a voice full of emotion, his grip tightening around me. I could feel his heart hammering in his chest. “I heard about the attack, about two students being seriously injured along with Aizawa-sensei and Thirteen-sensei. I came to see you yesterday, to see if you were okay, but your entire class was gone. I was so worried about you, Winchester!”

My body relaxed as I wrapped my arms around him, gently rubbing his back. “The faulty thought it would be a good idea if we took a day off after the attack. Me and Izuku were a bit reckless, but it ain’t a big deal.”

“‘A bit reckless’?” He pulled back, eyes narrowed in frustration and worry. “You could’ve been killed.”

“I didn’t think you cared that much,” I muttered, scratching my cheek as I glanced to the side.”

“You’re my friend, of course, I care!” He sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. “You’re okay, that’s what matters.”

My heart skipped a beat, my chest growing warm as my lips curled up. My hand rested on his head. “I’m sorry I worried you, Rin.”

“Call me Hiryuu.”

“Only if you call me Jen.”

“Deal,” he grinned.

“Hey, Rin! Class is gonna start soon!” An orange-haired girl smiled at us as she walked by with a girl that looked like she just stepped out of My Little Pony.

“Be right there, Kendo!” He called before turning back to me, pulling his phone out of his bag. “Can we exchange numbers?”

“Oh, uh, sure. I forgot my phone at home, though, so I’ll text you back after I get home.” I gave him my number and we parted ways, entering our own classrooms. Two numbers in one day? You’re turning into a player, girl. My good mood fizzled a bit when I entered class 1-A, eyes locking with angry vermillion.

“Morning, Winchester!” Kirishima grinned. “Last night was so much fun, let’s play again sometime!”

“Ooh~ What did you two do last night?” Alien asked, clapping her hands excitedly. “And who was that boy? Is he your boyfriend, Winchester?”

Satan, grant me the strength I need to not kill anyone today. “No, he’s just a friend.” I ignored her disappointed pout as I headed for my desk. I was almost there when a hand grabbed my shoulder roughly. Green met vermillion as we stared at each for a moment.

“You didn’t fucking answer my messages,” Bakugo’s voice was surprisingly calm as he gauged my reaction.

“I fell asleep after getting offline,” I lied, keeping my expression blank.

“Why the fuck didn’t you answer when you woke up, then?”

“Forgot my phone,”

“Stop fucking lying to me!”

I grunted, pulling myself from his grip and plopping down at my desk. Why do I suddenly feel so guilty about lying? Why did I even lie in the first place? It had been an instant reaction, I didn’t even consider it. We’re not even friends. He just tolerates me because I do the same for him.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance before stomping back to his desk.

“Hey, you guys! Did you watch the news?” Invisigirl asked, excitedly. “It was so cool that we got a few seconds of screen time. Though I bet nobody noticed me hanging out in the background…”

“Probably not,” Octo agreed.

Tail sweatdropped. “It is difficult to stand out when you’re just gloves…”

“We’re totally big deals.” Sparky’s voice was full of arrogance. “Those news channels love us, we’re basically celebrities!”

“Yeah, it’s kinda crazy, right?”

“Get over yourselves. The hero course that pumps out pros was attacked and that’s what they care about.”

“Who knows what woulda happened to us if the teachers hadn’t shown up.”

“Death. That’s what woulda happened.” I commented, dryly.

“Why’d you say that?!” Grape freaked out, his eyes full of tears. “I’m gonna pee myself just thinking about it!”

My lip curled back in disgust. Why is this fucking brat even in the hero course? I’ve seen more heroism from a fucking cockroach.

“Ah, shut up! Grow a pair, loser!!”

“Did you guys see All Might fighting the bird guy? That guy was super strong and he still destroyed him!”

“Yes, his strength is truly a thing of wonder.”

“Attention! Homeroom class is about to begin! Everyone stop talking and take your seats!” Iida ordered as he stood at the front of the room.

“Uh, we’re all sitting.”

“You’re the only one standing.”

Iida fell into his chair, body shaking. “Dang it,”

“Don’t sweat it,” Ochaco smiled. She’s honestly too precious for this world.

The door slid open and a heavily bandaged Aizawa appeared. His face was still covered, and both arms were in slings across his chest. “Good morning, class.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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gallantgautier · 4 years

Text

Pokemon AU notes

So, this has been a long time coming. I’ve had Sylvain’s team set out for quite some time, but never really got around to writing out anything cohesive. (Sometimes life just be like that.) But over the last few days and their conversations, it was high time I got this out onto the dash. Thank you to Rai for letting me look to her wonderful post about Yuri’s life in the Pokemon world to serve as a template for me!

Under a cut because oh jeez this ended up over 2.5k

Sylvain’s life notes.

Surrounded by snowy hills and woods, Sylvain grew up in Circhester. Used to such a cold climate, he still very much has an aversion to hot temperatures, poor guy just can’t handle them.

Life at home is similar to canon but has its differences in terms of why things happen. He’s slightly better adjusted in terms of his mental health due to the fact that expectations placed upon him from his family didn’t fall upon him as early as they do in canon. More on that in a bit.

The Gautier family has been full of successful Trainers, some even having travelled to other regions to hold positions within the Elite Four in previous generations. While none alive hold such positions now, they are nevertheless still a respected name when it comes to dark-type specialists.

Speaking of dark-type specialisation, this comes from the Guatier Crest’s link with Death in the Major Arcana. An often-misunderstood card, Death symbolises an end, such an end can pave the way for a new beginning, but it is not Death’s purpose to usher in that beginning, only to make the space for it. On its own, Death could also easily be attributed to ghost type Pokemon, but I feel Dark is a better fit on the grounds of dark often being attributed to evil when such is not the case, and Death often being seen as, well, death and general bad stuff.

Miklan was expected to have a successful career as a Trainer much like everyone before him. He had been gifted a Larvitar as his first Pokemon from his father. He was not ignored upon Sylvain’s birth like he had been in canon, however, in this ‘verse, as Sylvain was second born and thus not expected to climb the ranks of greatness, the younger brother was often coddled where Miklan was always pushed to train. That lack of affection and jealousy over the freedoms Sylvain was allowed became the source of his resentment.

With a brilliant mind for strategy and a ruthlessness born from a lack of compassion, Miklan could have been a Trainer that would become legendary in later years. But the absence of a kind bone within his body is also his greatest flaw, and it creates a barrier between him and success. He and his team are more like co-workers than friends, and it inhibits him from reaching his full potential. He would later fall into disgrace after a certain incident, and all the expectation that was once his would fall to his younger brother.

Sylvain, for his part, was content with never having to become a proper Trainer, preferring to watch Glenn and Felix train, or being able to just play with his Pokemon rather than battle. But after Miklan’s disgrace, his family would then push him towards becoming a brilliant Trainer worthy of the Gautier name. Luckily, he doesn’t have to undertake his journey alone, as it comes at a time when his best friend is preparing for his own.

Being out on the road and without his brother’s torment and his parents breathing down his neck, Sylvain slowly begins to discover the joy of simply learning about all the wonderful creatures that inhabit the wider world outside his snowy home. He comes into his own when it comes to creating recipes that are both nutritious and enjoyed by his and Felix’s companions, studying and coming to an understanding on how different kinds of Pokemon communicate with each other, and discovering ways to help improve the quality of life between a Trainer and their Pokemon. He’ll eventually go on to becomes something like a Pokemon Breeder – think animal husbandry rather than an actual breeder or even a Pokemon Centre staff member.

Yes, I’m aware that he’s almost literally Brock in this ‘verse! And I swear that’s just a happy accident! I thought long and hard before Rai pointed out the similarity to me and had come to the conclusion that this is a life he would lead to reflect canon. In the majority of his endings, Sylvain goes on to open communications with Sreng and brings peace at the border via diplomacy rather than with force like his ancestors had long employed. And it feels fitting that he would initially set out to become a Trainer who is expected to rise up to challenge the League (sent to the Officer’s Academy to learn battle strategy and train to eventually wield the Lance of Ruin and fight at the border) but instead finds his calling in communication and understanding.

But, add that he’s a ridiculous fun-loving flirt, he ends up as Brock. And honestly? I love it.

Sylvain’s team

Sylvain doesn’t really have an overarching theme for his team. Granted, when he set out, he was expected to become a dark-type specialist too. But at his core, Sylvain’s growth is always about subverting expectations. There were plenty of choices that I threw out simply on the grounds of too obvious, they’d be Pokemon he would have on his team that would – much like the face he presents the majority of time in canon – not really be him. Instead, I tried to think about how he would feel when meeting various Pokemon, how he would interact with them, and what role they would play in each other’s lives, rather than simply looking for reflections of aspects of his personality.

In order of acquisition:

♂/ Illusion

Sylvain’s very first Pokemon and his other best friend, Zorua was gifted to him at a young age as a pet rather than a partner. The reality of it is that Miklan had been given his Larvitar to begin his training, but since Sylvain was somewhat spoiled and coddled, he had to be given a Pokemon too. To fit with family traditions, it also had to be a dark type, but since his parents were more concerned with giving him a cute little playmate than a Pokemon that would eventually become a powerful battler, they picked fluffy little Zorua.

Zorua would be ever present at Sylvain’s side, weaving between his feet as he’d run down the road to visit Felix, climbing up the furniture to give it enough height to leap up and then curl over Sylvain’s shoulders, laying over his arm while he reads and looking at the pages with him. He would often disguise itself as some of Miklan’s Pokemon and act in a ridiculous manner in an attempt to cheer Sylvain up when his brother’s bullying caused him to withdraw and hide in his room, curling up on his chest while his Trainer slept to keep a watchful eye on the door.

Much like Sylvain in canon, Zoroark is a master of illusion, masking its true self in favour of showing a different face. It’s also fiercely protective of its pack, tricking its opponents to ensure their safety. Zoroark considers Sylvain, and by extension, Felix and his team, as members of his pack. And while Sylvain doesn’t train as hard as his friend, Zoroark pushes himself to become ever stronger to defend them on their journey.

♀/ Bulletproof

Applin was also something of a pet for Sylvain initially, found during his childhood before setting out on his journey with Felix, Sylvain found her during a trip to Turffield with his parents. Out for a walk one day with his mother, they were picking apples to bring home with them, and, of course, he had to grab the biggest, shiniest red apple he could find. Imagine his surprise when, after returning home and deciding to indulge in the delicious looking fruit, something green poked out of it! Sylvain immediately ran to his mother, who laughed, ruffled his hair, and told him “that’s a little dragon Pokemon, sunshine.”

Amazing.

Sylvain could wait to show his friends, charging down the road to the Fraldarius home, proclaiming in a voice full of wonder and awe “It’s a dragon, Felix!” His friend, understandably, didn’t believe him until Glenn told them all about it. Sylvain kept her, wanting to learn all he could about the tiniest dragon he’d ever heard of, amusing both himself and his new apple-like friend by gently rolling her back and forth on the table between his hands.

Miklan made fun of her, called her a ‘pathetic excuse for a dragon,’ but really, that only cemented Sylvain’s resolve to keep her.

This is one of my picks that isn’t attributed to Sylvain’s personality, and is entirely down to how his reaction would be to discovering a creature like Applin. There’s no way he wouldn’t be utterly delighted over its very existence. It’s a dragon. He can’t get over it.

♂/Overcoat

The first Pokemon Sylvain caught after he left home, at first, Sylvain wasn’t really sure what to think of Karrablast. He’s not really the biggest fan of bugs, they’re kind of creepy, and they’ll always remind him of the betrayal he felt when he learned that sweet little Joltik evolved into the terrifying monstrosity that is Galvantula. (Look, he just really does not like spiders.)

Still, he caught it anyway, mostly out of curiosity. It was kind of weird and kind of funny, and he wouldn’t mind learning a bit about it for a while before setting it free. As it turned out, Karrablast had a fierce competitive streak, often wanting to challenge Pokemon much bigger than himself. His sheer determination to prove himself is what caused it to eventually evolve (look, I know it’s a specific trade in game, but this is a far better narrative) and cemented himself in a permanent spot as one of Sylvain’s companions as it defended him and the others during a run-in with Miklan.

Escavalier also doesn’t at all mind using his lance as a makeshift skewer to help Sylvain cook their meals, so that’s a nice bonus.

This one is the only surface level pick for Sylvain’s team, he has to have the cavalier Pokemon. In a sense though, it does fit with Sylvain’s theming of subverting expectations. He doesn’t like bugs, Escavalier is a bug, he has one anyway.

♂/Rock head

Abandoned and all alone, Cubone joined Sylvain’s team mostly because of his bleeding heart. Who wouldn’t want to help such a sad looking creature? There was also, though he would never say it out loud, a sense of being a kindred spirit. Cubone had been horribly mistreated by his previous trained before being left behind, but despite it, Cubone still missed them.

Sylvain knew all too well how it feels to wish someone loved them back, especially in the face of such an impossibility. He initially took Cubone in to treat his wounds and keep him safe until they could find a sanctuary to leave him in. But as is natural when encountered with shared experiences, Sylvain grew attached, and Cubone came to slowly consider Sylvain as a safe person to be around, hiding behind his legs and sitting close to him around the campfire.

Through plenty of attention, love and patience, Cubone would grow from timid and tearful into a proud Marrowak as he slowly but surely tried to emulate the strength and confidence shown by Felix’s Corviknight.

♂/Defiant

We’re gunna do this one in reverse to the previous entries, where I talk about ooc reasoning first instead of the in-universe acquisition. Simply put, this started as an off-hand comment made not by me, nor by Rai, but by Rai’s muse. The story goes something like this.

Rai: “Me: looks at Falinks.”

Rai: “My Felix muse: Oh, it’s Sylvain.”

We both laughed. Made jokes about the red plume. But then I thought about it a lot. Falinks is a soldier. Falinks is all about teamwork which lends to strategy which Sylvain is good at. The first individual that makes up the team that is Falinks is the only one that can be seen using its shields, ready to take the brunt of an attack for its teammates much like Sylvain. Falinks has the unique move No Retreat, which raises all of its stats but prevents it from fleeing, much like Sylvain charging into danger to help his friends with no regard to his own safety.

Wouldn’t you know it, Felix really does know Sylvain best.

As a reflection of this half-joking but actually on-point discovery, Sylvain encounters Falinks on the road and finds him to be utterly hilarious. Just look at the way it marches! It’s love at first sight, he’s just so charmed and he absolutely has to catch it.

While Zoroark might be Sylvain’s partner, slowly but surely, Falinks becomes his ace. Their ability to perform complex manoeuvres seamlessly with their unparalleled teamwork is a perfect compliment to Sylvain’s talents in tactical mind.

Falinks are also the only Pokemon on Sylvain’s team to have nicknames! Allow me to hand you over to the man himself to tell you them.

With a smile bright enough to light a Gym Stadium, Sylvain radiates joyful energy as he makes a small gesture to the six round little creatures at his feet. “Alright guys, form up!” In unison, the Falinks line up and stand at attention.

“Let me introduce you to the squad. Cufflinks!” The largest of the six steps forward, jumping up just an inch and waving one of his shield’s in a manner that could be considered a salute, “Hoodwinks!” The first steps back and the second takes his place, performing the exact same salute, “Tiddlywinks!” As does the third, “Slowblinks!” And the fourth, “Fourtywinks!” The fifth, “and Hotdrinks!” and finally the sixth.

As Hotdrinks takes his place back in line, Sylvain beams at him, and they all beam back.

♀/Flashfire

A rare sight in the Galar region, this Ponyta hails all the way from Kanto. Much like Cubone, she joins Sylvain’s team after he rescues her from mistreatment, but this time it was at the hands of those seeking to make some money from the black market due to her rarity.

Unlike Cubone, shy or timid are the last words that could ever be attributed to this Ponyta. With a spirit burning as hot as the fire of her mane, she was not broken by her confinement. She was, however, injured and malnourished. Due to her nature, she gave Sylvain no end of grief as he tried to nurse her back to health.

But while slow to trust, once that trust is earned, it’s unbreakable. Her evolution into Rapidash came as a display of her undying loyalty, even allowing Sylvain to ride upon her back without burning him. Unfortunately, that trust doesn’t extend to Felix. She holds an almost-respect for him, but as close to Sylvain as she grows, she doesn’t like how much of her Trainer’s attention he gives his best friend instead of her.

In any universe, Sylvain just isn’t Sylvain without a horse, he loves those big dumb yet loyal animals. There were plenty of options to choose from, but considering his story and goals in this universe, rescuing one seemed the best course, and a Kantonian Ponyta/Rapidash felt like the best candidate for the region his story takes place in.

Also, yes, she’s Chastity.

Bonus!

I’m not going to go into the story details, but here’s Miklan’s team, also in order of acquisition:

♀/Unnerve

♂/Infiltrator

♂/Moxie

♀/Defiant

♀/Levitate

♂/Pickpocket

#ooc #pokemon AU #I was going to do this after replies but #it wouldn't leave me alone #and I had to get it out #so here's 2.5k of AU things that only one of you asked for ghfdjkghdf #<3

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tacticsroom · 5 years

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Astram: Midia’s Hero (Unit Review)

Available at 3-4★ (Grand Hero Battle Reward)

Lvl 40 Stats (Flaw/Neutral/Asset)

Note: As a Grand Hero Battle reward, Astram does not have access to boons/assets and banes/flaws.

HP: 41/44/47

Atk: 32/35/38

Spd: 33/36/39

Def: 33/36/39

Res: 18/21/24

Neutral BST: 172

Max Dragonflowers: 5

Skills

Weapon: Mercurius (400 SP)

Mt: 16. Rng: 1. Grants Atk+3. At start of turn, if unit’s HP ≥ 50%, grants Atk/Spd/Def/Res +4 to unit and sword, lance, axe, bow, dagger, or beast allies within 2 spaces of unit during combat. (Bonus granted to unit even when no allies are within 2 spaces.)

Sword. Cannot be inherited. Cannot be refined.

Assist: None

Special: Bonfire (200 SP)

Boosts damage dealt based on 50% of unit’s Def.

Can be inherited. Cannot use: Staff.

A: Wind Boost 3 (200 SP)

If unit has 3 more HP than opponent, grants Spd +6 during combat.

Can be inherited.

B: Wrath 3 (240 SP)

If unit’s HP ≥ 75%, grants Special Cooldown charge -1 at the start of each turn if said Special triggers by attacking (ex. Bonfire, Blue Flame, Growing Wind). If Special triggers, adds +10 damage to Special.

Can be inherited. Cannot use: Staff.

C: None

Analysis

Astram makes his debut as the latest in a long line of infantry sword units in FEH. Unlike the majority of his competition however he boasts incredible advantages. With a high BST (base stat total) rivaling that of Gen 1 armors (ex. Draug, Sheena, Gwendolyn), a powerful PRF and potent base kit Astram has a lot to offer players.

Astram’s base stats leave him with plenty of versatility. Boasting 35/36 Atk/Spd and 36/21 Def/Res, Astram can be kitted out to play as an offensive sweeper or a fast physical wall. His sword will help him significantly regardless of how he’s built, granting him Atk/Spd/Def/Res +4 buff if his HP is kept above or at 50% of his base HP. This spectrum buff is also granted to all physical damage allies within 2 ranges of him as well making Astram an excellent buffer rivaling other sword buffers such as Eirika and Marth.

His base kit carries Wind Boost and Wrath, two more skills requiring that he pass HP checks in order to activate both. Wind Boost will likely see little use, as it requires Astram to have 3 more HP than his opponent which, with 44 base HP, will rarely activate. Should he pass this check however Astram will receive +6 Spd while in combat on top of +4 from his sword giving him an easy +10 Spd. Wrath meanwhile will provide any damage dealing special will a cooldown charge of -1 at the start of each turn once his HP falls below or at 75% of his base HP on top of +10 damage added once his special activates. This will make his Bonfire procs incredibly potent as few opponents will be able to survive a direct hit. Combining all these skills at once however will prove to be difficult. To make use of both Wrath and Mercurius Astram must keep his HP between 50% and 75% of his HP level which a feat easier said than done. For this purpose it may be best to pair him with refresher units who can either replenish or take HP from him as needed.

On his first merge, Astram will gain +2 Hp/Atk and +1 Spd.

Reasons to Invest in Astram

You like Astram and intend to use him in a core team, whether it be for Arena, Aether Raids, or an Infantry/Mixed team

You’re interested in building Astram because of his unique sword which can be used to buff himself and physical damage allies

You have obtained all or most previous copies made available and do not mind the grail cost

Reasons NOT to Invest in Astram

You don’t intend on using him as a core on any team or in any PVE game modes such as Rival Domains or Grand Conquest

You don’t play Aether Raids and have no interest in obtaining grails

You consider Astram’s playstyle and base kit uninteresting and would rather fodder his skills off to other heroes you use

You already have an invested sword/support unit that you already use on your core Arena & or Aether Raids team

Similar Units

Note: As a Grand Hero Battle reward Astram does not have access to boons/assets or banes/flaws and therefore is not directly comparable to any summonable units.

Soleil: Adorable Adorer (37/38/35/28/24)

Astram: Midia’s Hero (+7/-3/+1/+8/-3)

Note: Astram has access to uninheritable skills and is thus not directly comparable.

Laegjarn: Sheathed Steel (41/32/36/36/17)

Astram: Midia’s Hero (+3/+3/+0/+0/+4)

Note: Astram and Laegjarn have access to uninheritable skills and are thus not directly comparable. The two are also of different movement types.

Builds

Note: Currently in the FEH Builder Astram’s hero title has a typo in it. The build images displayed here will be updated once this mistake is corrected.

Budget/Low Investment:

Astram is quite budget friendly and requires very little to keep up with the heroes around him.

The set on the left keeps his base kit and adds on the HP/Spd 2 seal. Because Wind Boost requires him to have 3 more HP than his opponent we’ll boost his HP to increase his odds of activating it. When combined with his sword’s visible buff, Astram will reach 48 Spd without any further buffs. Keep in mind with the following set however that how much speed his obtains will be entirely dependent on his HP and is unlikely to activate against higher HP opponents such as armors and some infantry foes.

The set on the right swaps his A slot for Darting Blow which will grant him a consistent +6 Spd if he initiates combat. When combined with his sword’s effect, Astram will gain +10 Spd should he initiate combat. His seal, Armored Blow, makes him deceptively bulky granting him +10 Def when combined with his sword’s effect. In total, Astram will have 46 Spd/Def when initiating combat.

Astram’s seal options include but aren’t limited to: Atk+3, Spd+3, Def+3, HP/Atk 2, HP/Spd 2, Atk/Def 2, Blow skills, Bond skills, Chill skills, and Blade skills.

Mixed Phases:

Astram is versatile and can be built as either an enemy phase or player phase unit.

The set on the left focuses on physically tanking opponents and replying back with hard hitting specials. Steady Breath, on top of giving him +4 Def if attacked by a foe, will grant him an extra cooldown charge of +1 for each blow dealt to him. This helps Ignis charge faster than it normally would. Wrath will also help charge his special faster as it grants a cooldown charge of -1 at the start of each turn once he falls below or at 75% of his base HP. Once he falls below this HP range he’ll also activate Brazen Atk/Spd for an additional +7 Atk/Spd during combat. This pushes his stats up to 65/47/44 Atk/Spd/Def if he meets each of his skill’s requirements.

The set on the right opts for a similar idea but focuses instead on his player phase. Heavy Blade will grant him an extra +1 cooldown charge if he has more Atk than his opponent. To better ensure he has higher Atk we use the Sturdy Blow seal which grants +4 Atk/Def if a unit initiates combat. Wrath will help charge his special outside of combat and grant additional damage. Should Astram initiate combat, he’ll have 62/40/42/25 Atk/Spd/Def/Res while in combat.

High Investment Player Phase:

Astram can prove to be a dangerous powerhouse with the right investment.

Here we run him with a Slaying Edge+ Galeforce setup. The goal here will be to activate Galeforce as often as possible with the use of Heavy Blade. Heavy Blade as stated before will grant a unit an extra +1 cooldown charge if said unit has higher attack than their opponent. Because we’ll be trying to pass an Atk check rather than a Spd check we go with an Atk refined Slaying Edge to grant him 56 Atk. Swift Sparrow 3 will give him +6 Atk and +7 Spd should he initiate combat. This pushes his offenses to 62/48 Atk/Spd making it highly likely that he will both activate Heavy Blade and double his foe. Def Smoke will ploy opponents within 2 spaces of his target for -7 Def after combat allowing Astram to sweep another opponent or allow an ally a chance to finish off an opponent on what otherwise would have been a missed kill. Slaying Edge may be swapped back for Mercurius if Astram is run with an ally that can help grant him a lower cooldown charge such as Legendary Hector or an ally with Infantry Pulse.

High Investment Support:

While he can prove to be a fierce powerhouse Astram can also support his allies effectively.

Mercurius will grant Atk/Spd/Def/Res +4 to Astram and all physical damage allies within 2 spaces of him so long as his HP is kept above or at 50% of his base HP. While he can suffice with his +4 combat buff he has the option to buff his allies further with the use of tactic skills and rallies. Atk and Spd Tactic will grant +6 Atk/Spd to all allies within 2 spaces of him. Rally Def/Res+ will grant an ally +6 Def/Res and will help activate his B skill, Atk/Spd Ruse. Basically, when Astram rallies an ally any foes within his and his ally’s cardinal directions will be ployed for -5 Atk/Spd and become inflicted with the Guard status effect. This means that Astram can create an Atk/Spd difference of 12 highly favoring his allies. Fury 4 is taken to increase his own bulk while Ruptured Sky is used to grant him better effectiveness when against beast and dragon foes.

#feh #fe heroes #fire emblem heroes #unit review #Astram: Midia's Hero #sword/infantry #The Chosen Ones #mod asama

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