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black-quartz-sphinx-judge-my-vow · 3 years

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Unrelenting Anton, The Last Mountain

https://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/289741/Adversaries-of-the-Righteous-Unrelenting-Aton--The-Pillars-of-the-Last-Bastion-Cult-of-Aton

This guy is like Furry art for me. I get the appeal, and understand it, but not for me. That being said, this guy is really freaking cool. He's an elemental from... oh I don't know, the dawn of time! He was part of a group of giant sixty foot tall stone men who balanced the world and kept earthquakes at bay. Then the Exalted went wacko and killed off all of his brothers. Now's he's a crazed doomsday prepper with an underground fotress and cult. The key is really to just throw as many buzz words into a description as you can and call it a day. See, he perceives time the same way mountains do. So where humans see the last seven hundred years as being relatively stable, he's sees it as one continuous cataclysm. Society is collapsing, the environment is out of wack, and we're all doomed! I've never related to a npc so much. So the reason he's a adversary and not a hero, is because he chooses to hide himself away in his underground fort rather than try and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! I'm sure he just thinks a solar is just going to slam dunk a rhino through his skull if he pops his head above ground. Ironically after my last review saying Ashana may have the best numbers in the game, this guy comes up with 15 dice, and puts that to rest. Plus he has extended melee reach, and a ranged grapple, and he can double his parry while giving himself cover, and he can call meteors down from space, and, and and. The guy is a monster. Finally a worthy opponent. I'm not that hot with mechanics and even I can tell he's a beast. His best ability lets him turn his followers to stone to imbune them with extra power. They slowly turn to statues over the course of 20 years, before... becoming immortal, unmoving statues... forever. That's freaking tight, dude. What else? Well how about the fact that he keeps track on everything he thinks can end the world. Sword of Creation(.net) check, exalted check, an awesome bald guy with a magical city check, that guy with the suspicious looking cow? Check, and check. If that's not a plot hook I don't know what is. This guy is from the first age, he knows exactly what kind of scary stuff is buried and where. "The Solars built a fountain that does WHAT?" "It seemed like a good idea at the time." There's so much cool stuff about this guy... I'd just never use him. For some reason I'm just not interested in underground adventures. Shame cause this guys awesome, and drow are cool. I prefer flying castles, which is why you reskin the guy into an air elemental. If there's any thing bad I can say about him, it's that he doesn't seem to be very active. Maybe I'll learn more when I cover his cult next time. I really just try to take these writeups as they are by themselves. He's huddled in his cave peeing into bottles, I don't see why that's the player's business. Where I think the writeup is trying to lead you is that the players need something in his fort, work with them, and then he crazily betrays them before they can betray him. I guess, I dunno. I wouldn't be excited for that to be the plot for such an interesting character, but oh well. Rating A very cool character only held back by the fact, that his presence as a villain seems pretty nebulous. I give Aton 7/10 Fallouts Shelters. Misc. Now I'm sure I'm not the only one who read Aton's description and immediately thought of Walter Benjamin's Thesis on The Philosophy of History. Benjamin describes an angel, much like Anton and calls him "The Audience To Our History." He goes on to say "A Klee painting named Angelus Novus shows an angel looking as though he is about to move away from something he is fixedly contemplating. His eyes are staring, his mouth is open, his wings are spread. This is how one pictures the angel of history. His face is turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a storm is blowing from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such violence that the angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call progress." Plot Hooks 1. Cloverfield Lane. Aton is going to save people, even if they don't want it. In the midst of this apocalypse he kidsnaps anyone he can to bring them to safety. Most recently an entire town has gone off the map. Can the players save them? Aton won't be too happy with someone trying to lead his charges to their death on the surface. 2. The three titans that hold up Palaquin are actually three of Aton's older brothers. Once he learns of their location, he's going to want to try and awaken them, even if it means them dropping an entire city. 3. Aton is the last pillar in a vital structure within creation keeping seismic tremors from ripping the whole thing apart. Either the players learn of this before defeating him, forcing them into a nonviolent solution, or they only learn of this after he's dead. Now they have to find a way to replace, or revive Aton before all of creation sinks into the wyld. 4. Aton's cult's worship is really working! He's been growing stronger and stronger over the centuries. After working with him to put a stop to a doomsday weapon, the players being to notice Aton developing dragonic elements. How will they react to this unstable elemental's transformation into a dragon? 5. Aton is so paranoid that he predicted the eventual return of the solar, and has planned for it, confident that they will come for him just as they did his brothers. A player's old tomb? Robbed, trapped, and it's not the only one. All of the solar tombs have been robbed! News of anathema vanishing from creations is everywhere. Some strange being seems to be targeting the players, their families, it seems to know everything about them. All of this to gather them to Aton's stronghold where's he's created a great urn to contain the souls of the solars.

#Exalted 3E #exalted #rpg #d&d

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atmilliways · 3 years

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On the 7th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 19 - Fun in the snow!

It was the first night since the rescue, the first night since Toki had been cleared by the Mordland doctors to sleep in his own room again . . . and he couldn’t sleep. He’d spent hours lying in bed, staring up at glow-in-the-dark stars he’d glued to the ceiling back what seemed like a billion years ago and he could. Not. Do it anymore.

Godklok Skwistok stuff. There’s some Swedish in there courtesy of Google Translate... There are footnotes with translations in the Ao3 link I’ll reblog this with in a sec.

The Weather Outside is Frightful

Real stars. He needed to see real stars.

His eyes hurt like something was gently but firmly pressing them deeper into his skull, and he counted exactly two-thousand and twenty steps between his bedroom and the nearest ground floor exit onto the grounds. It didn’t bother him, when he got there, that the flagstones around the doorway were sparkling with frost. Like he’d been trying to tell the doctors for weeks, he could still tell the differences between hot and cold, just didn’t exactly feel it. Hadn’t ever since that red light had hit them and then split the ceiling above their heads (or had it been the other way around?), and he and his brothers had made at least one of his death-stained torturers stop.

So Toki stepped out into the snow and it crunched under his slippers, and he didn’t care. He just followed the blanketed path into a thicket of trees until it dead-ended in a wide circular clearing.

In the center of the clearing, Skwisgaar stood with his back to Mordhaus, one hand outstretched. Toki stopped when he saw him, not necessarily prepared for company . . . but as he watched, flecks of the falling snow circled around the other guitarist’s hand like a glove several sizes too big, then formed a miniature cyclone over the center of his palm, then formed a floating sphere, then dispersed as though nothing out of the ordinary had just been going on.

Curious, Toki walked closer with intentionally loud footsteps and smiled wanly when Skwisgaar whipped around to look at him. “Hei.”

“. . . Hej.” Skwisgaar’s breath formed a ghostly haze in the freezing air. “Didn’ts know you was ups.”

“Couldn’t sleeps.” Toki pulled up even with him on the path, looking up at the sky. When he saw that it was too clouded over for any stars to show, he sighed. “Thoughts a walk might helps. What were you doings just now?”

The blond shrugged. Unlike Toki, he was actually wearing a jacket and boots, and there was a glove on the hand that he hadn’t been holding up before. “Practicings.”

Instinctively Toki reached for the bare hand, looking over the lines of Skwisgaar’s palm and briefly feeling as though he was falling into a roadmap that he didn’t know how to read—but he shook it off and rubbed at the stiff fingers that he could tell were bone-cold. “You’re gonna gets frostbites like this. How long you been outs here? And how long since you started beings able to does . . . that?”

“You knows since when.” Skwisgaar’s hand, despite the stiffness, stretched to clasp around Toki’s. “Natten vi räddade dig.”

Toki nodded, because he understood completely . . . even though, at the same time, he didn’t understand shit and doubted that Skwisgaar did either. All of this god stuff, and being destined to save the world or something, and a Church dedicated entirely to them and now run by their former manager who had literally died and returned from the dead? What was any of that? But he couldn’t deny that it was all real. They’d all been feeling it lately.

“I don’t wants you to freeze,” Toki said softly, looking him straight in the eye, more direct than he’d ever dared to be before. Being kidnapped and held captive for a longass time had burned a lot of the hesitation right out of him.

Skwisgaar quirked one perfect blonde eyebrow. “I clouds say the same to yous, little Toki.”

“Don’t really feels it these days,” Toki replied with a shrug. “But thanks.” He looked down at the hand holding his, then back up again with a small smile. “Shoulds have figures I finds you practicings. Ams all you ever does. Why don’ts you ever takes a break, Skwisgaar?”

A terrible look suddenly overtook the taller man’s face. “I can’ts. I gots to be readies. Othersways, whats if. . . .”

Toki nodded thoughtfully. Whatever was coming was bigger than any show they’d ever played, and those had been nerve-wracking enough. He remembered, from his own attempts at solo performances, the terrible weight of the audience’s expectations . . . but the audience couldn’t float you into the air and crush you like a bug just by looking at you, like that Half-Man thing they’d seen at the so-called final concert in Reykjavík. If they had powers, they damned well better know how to use them, or they could all die.

Leave it to Skwisgaar to take that knowledge and turn it into just as much a tic as constantly practicing on his guitar.

“Buts you can’t wears yours-selve out likes this,” Toki murmured, reaching with his free hand to up Skwisgaar’s cold, porcelain cheek. “You still gotta take cares, that’s what’s the doctors keeps tellin’s me—and I don’t wants nothing bads to happens to yous, so that’s am what I tells you, too. Okays?” He was surprised to feel tears in his eyes; he hadn’t cried since being liberated from that awful basement, not once. The thought of losing the lead guitarist, the push to his pull both onstage and in life, was somehow even worse than that place.

Skwisgaar leaned forward into the touch, until their foreheads bumped. He let out a deep exhale, a fine steam swirling around their faces and mingling with Toki’s breath, which should have been just as visible but, mysteriously, wasn’t. “Okays. Jag lovar.” Then he offered the ghost of a smirk and added, “As longs as you promise yous will practice somes, not like with yous crapskies guitar playing.”

Toki kissed him. It was as easy as laughing—which he did too, the sound muffled by the other man kissing back with just as much feeling. This thing, this push and pull that had been between them for years, was a lot older than any eldritch powers they suddenly had access to, and it was worth protecting.

They had never done this before, and that was a crying fucking shame because it was suddenly as necessary as breathing. Skwisgaar wrapped his arms around Toki and cradled him close. He was so gentle, as though afraid that if he held Toki too hard the younger man would either break or turn out to be just a mirage. But his kiss—

His kiss was desperate in a way that threatened to break Toki’s heart. As though all Skwisgaar wanted was to protect him, but knew, knew that he couldn’t.

Toki remembered all the times Skwisgaar had tried to protect or comfort him. At driving school. Any time his parents visited. In that IKEA the time they’d cried together. Bicentennial quarters. Trying to save his life at the Guitariganza event even after that awful tell-all book he’d written. The tears were definitely rolling down his cheeks now and left trails on his skin that crackled slightly in the cold air.

After several long minutes, the kiss ebbed. Skwisgaar gave a little chuckle of his own—totally sounded like he’d been crying too, breathy and trembling, but it was hard to see for sure in the weak winter moonlight. “You wants to does that for a longs time, eh little Toki?”

This was a chance, Toki realized, to fall back into their usual pattern and laugh the moment off. Skwisgaar was giving him an out . . . if he wanted one. A year ago, maybe he would have taken it.

He remembered Skwisgaar telling him shakily on another snowy night, years ago, I will sees you in Valhallska.

“Yeah,” Toki said softly. “I has. Sorties I’ve beens so . . . you knows.” He sniffled, trying to get his damned nose to stop running. “Ams a really stupids guy whats acts like a brats. I shoulds has practiced like you always tolds me too. I shoulds have been sittings with you at the funeral and never gots kidsnapped in the forst place, but thanks you so fuckings much for comings to rescues me. You savesed my life. I gots to say thanks yous to the other guys too, buts . . . you’s here rights now. And you ams special.” Reaching up, he touched Skwisgaar’s hair, brushing snowflakes from the golden strands. “So specials. . . .”

That’s when they both noticed that snowflakes were hanging in the air around them, too. Hundreds of them hanging suspended in clusters in the shape of—

“A very special saps whats has made the snow falls in shapes of hearts,” Toki giggled.

“I didn’ts,” Skwisgaar mumbled, cheeks reddening, but he still had his arms around Toki so he couldn’t have been too put out.

“You dids, looks at them!” Toki caught one in his palm. “Sees?”

“I . . . heugh.” He looked around and the snow began to drift down again. “Ams the price of masterings a new skill, Toki. Don’t know what else to tells you.”

Toki kissed him again with a faux-thoughtful hum. “How ‘bouts . . . you tells me if you want to goes inside now and does more of this?”

For the first time that night, Skwisgaar grinned. “Ja. Ja, thats I can do’s.”

#metalocalypse #12 days of dethmas #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #skwistok

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akuasucc · 3 years

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omg so last week we was driving through riverdale and i seen a poster that said “fashion nova kidsnaps girls” and yesterday when we was picking up the pizza i seen another one of those signs that said “fashion nova kidsnaps girls” what the hell going on

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philsketches · 6 years

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while the girls snooze, i’m watching @hildatheseries and working on my #newyorkercartoons submission in @procreate . . . . #cartoons #cartooning #cartoon #procreate #procreateapp #hilda #hildatheseries #ipadpro #applepencil #digitalink #digitalinking #icedcoffee #saturday #kidsnapping https://ift.tt/2y14kpS

#Instagram #digitalart #procreate #procreateapp #wacomcreativestylus1 #wacom #iPad #iPad3 #iPadart #cartoon #ca

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sprnklersplashes · 2 months

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(ao3)

concept: slavers or enemy pirates kidsnap kaz and intend to use him as leverage against inej. of course they took precautions but even then, when kaz isn’t fighting back and just sits there with a small smirk on his face, they’re all convinced dirtyhands is plotting his escape.

in reality though, he is in fact thinking “oooh when my wife gets here you guys are so screwed”

He wakes slowly, with a skin-crawling sense of deja-vu. At first, all he recognises is the rough fibres of ropes around his wrists-ropes and not handcuffs, interesting. As he opens his eyes, orange lamplight floods his vision. He has to blink twice before his vision adjusts fully, and even then he still feels like the room is swaying, a slight bob up and down that leaves him uneasy. Saints, what the hell did they drug him with?

It’s only when his head clears more that he realises that no, it’s not the drug. The room is actually swaying. And he isn’t alone.

Three figures stand before him, each one is clad in a white shirt and roughspun trousers that indicates shipworkers. While the otthers wear shabby looking brown jakcets and waistcoats, the middle one stands proudly in a (hideous) purple frock coat and gold-rimmed hat, tilted at an angle that Kaz suspects is meant to signify a carefree spirit. Really all it shows is that one, he is in charge here and two, he can’t pull off a hat at that angle.

“Kaz Brekker,” the captain announces. Triumph lights up his face, like a cat that caught a particularly unruly mouse. “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Perhaps for good reason,” he replies. His throat is tight, his voice heavy from whatever they drugged him with, but he won’t clear his throat. He lifts his head, raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “What business, gentlemen?”

“Don’t talk to us like we’re merchants, Brekker,” the captain says. “This ain’t the Barrel and believe it or not, you ain’t the prize.”

“No?” he asks. “You put a lot of work into grabbing me.”

The grin doesn’t waver, but even the little light can’t hide the annoyance flashing in his eyes. With a slow, deliberate pace he steps towards him, one hand on his belt and his tongue poking out. There’s a very, very strong smell of cheap liquor on him, but Kaz fights remains still. Even when the captain comes beside him and slowly squats and his knee brushes against Kaz’s.

Breathe, he reminds himself. In for eight, out for eight.

At least Wylan’s advice is finally being useful.

“You’re not the prize,” he says again, dark eyes flashing. He bares his teeth. “You’re the leverage. Rumour has it that one Captain Ghafa is quite enamoured with you.”

“Never heard of her.” His voice is steady, even, smooth as a sheet of steel. Inside is another story, but if the captain sees that they’re both done for. The match-strike he felt when he said Inej’s name is kept well-hidden.

“No?” he teases. His smile sharpens, and something unsettles inside Kaz. If this fool has touched Inej, he’ll cut off his limbs one by one to use as shark bait. “Then what’s this?”

Clumsily, the man pulls an envelope out of his pocket. He holds it before his eyes and Kaz’s heart contracts. His name, the Crow Club’s address, all written in Inej’s handwriting. Puzzle pieces fall into place now, and he curses.

He’d been expecting a letter from Inej for days now. He’d thought she was busy, or forgot, then began thinking she was hurt. And all that time it was in the hands of this bastard.

Shark bait is too good for him. Kaz will drain his blood and paint his sails with it.

“No idea.”

“My men intercepted this while tracking Ghafa. A messenger left her ship with it at the beginning of this week, after she’d docked in Weddle. It’s quite a sweet letter too.” He runs his finger along the edge. “She signs it ‘your Wraith’. Who knew the Captain had such a soft side?” He raises his eyebrows. “She’s pretty. You’re a lucky man.”

“More that can be said for you,” Kaz growls. The captain stiffens, but the bravado doesn’t fade.

“Easy lad,” he says. “It’s just business isn’t it? A trade-off. Ghafa comes here, agrees to back off my business, and she gets you back in one piece. Surely the Kerch can understand that .”

“What makes you think she’ll come?” he asks. “From what I understand, Captain Ghafa is incredibly sharp. Sharp enough to not believe the threats of a washed-up sailor long past his glory days.”

The man’s eyes narrow. His fist clenches and Kaz braces himself just before he swings. Pain explodes along his jaw, the contact makes his stomach roll.

Breathe, he reminds himself. In for eight, out for eight. The canal comes in flashes, but the flashes fade.

“Cocky little bastard,” he mumbles. “You think we didn’t think of that? We tied the note to something a bit personal.” He straightens his back, puffs out his chest. “Your walking stick is quite distinctive.”

Kaz freezes. Around the chair, his muscles tense. Some inner part of him starts to unravel, but he clamps it down, focuses on the task at hand.

Clearly, this man has a death wish. And Kaz is more than happy to fulfill it.

“Stop your glowering, boy,” he tells him. “You’ll get your cane, and see your girl, once Ghafa agrees to our terms.”

“And when she doesn’t?” Kaz asks. He’s not thrown by the idea of Inej not wanting to trade; her mission is sacred to her and it’s for good reason. “If she refuses to stop? What do you do then?”

The man flinches, no doubt shaken by Kaz’s counter. Men like this are no different from Barrel bosses or Ketterdam merchants; they believe they are untouchable, so they play their cards too early. And now he is scrambling, searching for his next threat.

“Then…” He grabs Kaz’s jaw. His fingers are filthy, the skin is cracked and cold. Kaz swallows the nausea rising within him, forces the black spots at bay. He looks at the ceiling, just present enough to hear his next threat.

“Then I start carving up that pretty face of yours. Then the neck. Then the chest. We’ll see how long her resolve lasts when you have a knife in her throat.”

He lets go and Kaz lets his head fall, just managing to stop himself from gasping. The captain chuckles one last time, low and throaty. Kaz thinks about how he’d like nothing more than to drive his cane right into the man’s eyesockets.

He’s not trying to escape. Which feels odd; indeed, the crew assigned to watch him are puzzled. He could get out of these ropes in seconds, easily overpower the trio of pigeons standing before him. Hell, he’d overpower the captain with absolute delight. But then he would be stuck in the middle of the ocean with next to no way of knowing where he is, how to get back to Ketterdam or how to catch up with Inej. Too many unknown variables to play. So, he will keep his cards close to his chest, stall for time, and believe that Inej is coming for him.

And in the meantime, well, screwing with the shipmates is very entertaining.

On his first full day in captivity, he unties and reties the ropes around his wrists, so many times that the crew quickly run out of knots. A boy suggests they should try chains instead and Kaz doesn’t respond, just grins, slowly, knowingly. They stick with ropes, tied with so many knots his fingers are likely purple.

They station two kids at his door and two on the outside-and they really are kids. The ‘out of our depth’ looks on their faces remind Kaz of Wylan when they raided the Ice Court, though he doubts they have the resilience Wylan does. As they bring him his food, one boy looks nervously to the door and back to Kaz, fingers fidgeting as he sets the plate down.

“They double-locked this door, right?” he asks.

“I broke someone out of Hellgate,” Kaz says nonchalantly, picking at the food. Unsalted cod. Delicious. “You think I can’t manage one measly door?”

And oh, the look on the boy’s face. It sustains him throughout the night. He simply raises an eyebrow at him and quietly pities the poor child because if he thinks Kaz is bad, he will be royally screwed when Inej comes.

He is two days into his captivity when boredom begins to descend. It’s sparing, but still makes itself known. He’s been tied to a chair in the exact same position for most of his time here-not counting those moments where the guards are asleep and he slips out of his bonds and takes a walk around the room to stretch himself. And while scaring the crew with just a smile is undoubtedly delightful, it is bound to go stale sooner or later.

Not to mention, boredom means there’s less to distract him from the pain in his leg.

Thankfully, the door opens in the evening and the captain enters, smirk on his face and note held in his fist.

“You’re in luck, Brekker,” he tells him. “The Wraith has agreed to a meeting. Her ship has been spotted on the horizon.”

“Has it now?” he asks. His voice is cool, his features steady. He will laugh about this in due time.

“She’ll be here in an hour or so,” he goes on. “And once she agrees to our terms, you will be free to go and-”

He is cut off. A loud scream pierces the air, and the captain freezes in place. Kaz allows himself a laugh, leans back as much as his restraints will allow.

The captain turns to him, eyes wide, face pale beneath his beard.

“What did you do, Brekker?”

“Me?” he asks. “I did nothing. I’ve been sat here for over 48 hours.” He shrugs. “However, did you know Inej Ghafa has a number of squallers in her employ? Ex-Grisha indentures who joined her crew since they had no home to go to.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know her.”

Kaz shrugs.

“I hear rumours.” The captain gives him one last, outraged look and then he’s sprinting up to the deck, so quickly that he forgets to close the door in his haste.

And now, Kaz is treated to the soothing, lovely sounds of the absolute carnage Inej and her crew are waging. Right above his head, someone is slammed into the ground, lifted and slammed again, a wet crack denoting some broken bones. Kaz winces. Meanwhile, the silence of his little cabin lets him hear the whooshing of blades, followed by a heavy groan as they find their target. Blows are traded, arrows fly. He even hears someone begging for mercy and above all, a confident and clear voice, barking orders as if she’d been born to do it.

And he can’t help it; there’s a faint glow of pride in his chest. Inej truly has earned her reputation.

Feet pound on the staircase outside. With a start, Kaz begins working on his restraints and Inej appears in the doorway just as the ropes drop. Crimson stains mar her trousers and her tunic, and her hair is coming loose from her braid. Her eyes are bright, chest heaving as she sheaths her knife. He rises to his feet, nods, pushes his hair from his face.

“You just can’t keep out of trouble, can you Kaz?”

Inej tosses him his cane and he catches it without breaking her stare. The relief is indescribable as he can finally take the weight off his bad leg. Inej comes closer, dark eyes flicking to his chair before moving back to him.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Well, the food was sub-par and undercooked and that chair was dreadfully uncomfortable,” he begins. “But other than that I’m fine.” Inej nods, though the words don’t seem to register. Her gaze roams over him, searching for a hidden bruise or a cut, a tell that he’s hiding something. He doesn’t blame her, of course, hiding pain is arguably what he does best.

“Inej.” Carefully, he takes her chin and tilts it so she meets his eyes. He presses his gloved thumb gently into the indent. “I’m okay.”

She breathes out, nods, smiles.

“All right,” she says. Her hand comes up over his wrist, her fingers on his pulse point and she squeezes it once. They take the small moment together, reveling in each other.

“Playing the damsel in distress suits you, Kaz.”

“Damsel?” he echoes. “I was biding my time.”

“Until I rescued you?” she teases. “You were so sure I would?”

“It was a calculated move.” Kaz offers her his arm and, blushing, she takes it, as if they’re a gentleman and a lady enjoying an afternoon stroll. “Where are we anyway?”

“Close to Shirftport,” she says. They begin ascending the stairs. “We could make a stop there if you want. There’s a really lovely little diner there I keep thinking I should take you to.”

As they appear on the deck, Inej’s hold on him tightens, her free hand solid against his back. He squints against the bright sun, blinding him for a minute after his days in darkness. But then he adjusts, and the sight that greets him is worth it. The deck is stained red, Inej’s crew stand over the crumpled and whimpering forms of the pirates that captured him. The captain is tied to the mast, stripped of his jacket and vest, a particularly formidable-looking girl holding a knife at his throat.

Inej and Kaz cross the ship together. Inej’s crew bow to her as she does, meanwhile the captain lets out a strained, high-pitched whine around his gag. His crew moan from their places on the floor.

Up close, Kaz sees the pulsing, dark slashes over his chest and across his face. The strokes are so fierce that they remind Kaz of an animal’s claws, only much more precise.

“Thanks Roisin, I’ll take it from here,” Inej says. She twirls the knife around her fingers, thoughtfully, her tongue poked out to the side of her mouth. “Now what do we do with you?”

“You could rip out his eyeball,” Kaz suggests.

“Oh but that’s your move.”

“I’d give it to you.”

The Captain whimpers again, louder this time. It sounds like he’s begging. Inej glares at him, the look just as deadly as her blades, and Kaz laughs. Whether she uses his move or not, he doesn’t mind. The Wraith is deadly enough on her own, more than a match for this sad excuse of a pirate.

“I have missed you, Inej,” he says. Inej squeezes Kaz’s arm, then drives her knife into the man’s neck.

#kanej fic #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa

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wpdariacutnes · 2 years

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☂️🦋💦🦋☂️🦋☂️🦋💦🦋☂️🦋☂️🦋💦🦋

More RP and me frends chating:::

( a enifing expleing cherater das a mendy is not skeleton is a human a good side a iceon is bed side her so not teching a das WALNY make dys oc so ask me frends wona drowing you likes or not das levan

A max das a ashley oc a das more DJ wolf so das why oso not bed make bitbox a mashine dys a funny a das cliking putons but still lesson but dys so mini mistake das game me seres get wirt ego tv signal but das fine can esly off so das mini esteregg and cheratr in here a seres im say reddy because DUDE YOU OC IS EMEZING PLAETTE AND PERSONALITY STOP PLEMING SELF A TAKE PERSONALITY LEMON LITE STIKE IS COOL ON GOING ATTACK EGG PAPKEKS IN A FACE A NOT STYLE UNDERSTAND DYS AAAA 🚬

A magdalene is das oc a shy persen das ELENA yes elena she persen is so sind a can missing like im sorry or sorry a dress up you im so belive and on and on so yeah oso her oc more das not teshu sweet persen like not wirt kidsnaping as she nice ore gif cake das normal expleing lot a icident flip montynt a flufe staws like see did a axpley a dys in not puffy her lost be kos sheep woman anime a das frowers a make fliping more save/suwarwing lifes like Real now so cute and did twince as king but das more toriel a someone take push better makes working kip going twinds a king make name more saturn becuse her opinion is more take sylesly king status like grec names or nickname or das clasinc muzic and more exedera status expleing how she did dys a not dyfrent sade

And like normal das like sans and torile toking a back door so foxy in her home magdalene and das toking on tea like mini sinbolizam a more status be frends moster a human das more take sylesly do and doing fings

A das not staszek is mendy boy frends a finish game or endings das look her a back because normality take dys like deatch or depres staws but she fine she back hem and das cool story

A das dys gosht is name das hanta not japan soda a das say fanta but more mr.fanta or ser.fanta and das more egonebul a das cliking a buton but fevret anime or mangas no manga mangas because wery likes you and chraing be cool ferst time os yeah

A das moons das male skeleton and enifing going flash back like "o no same redsinging sans or sowing or jara jara das o crap no" das fine expleing dys is more das cinamon personality like das nerd but not be too much be kos not a wering but asking call down faitche sydłacion like kid wering dys be kos more woder pigments eyes as skeleton oso frends a ego max so das why more das take dyfrent toking a sans a dont See ploblem a hem in home because das boom home because sans not trush/take sylesly mendy a good persen so das why up tecks too faste a cant cotrol a say das dramatik a das "why she here why did you herts enifing dyfrent a fanely get big brew" a old frends a jodi the ladybug and keton the kat das bratcher a das too shop das kitty and megi? Im get das crododal and cat womands okey das not oso ego das foxy frends but more push snow and make drama a das abuze hem bi kos more smole she is and nerd glas so dys brake up a frendship no contact

So das full expleing lavendatale series 1 yes going more but puding stepel a lavendatale as dys a dyfrent name game because take a dys same a dys same sans or take au's as dys original game ferst

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Offical epic note: 20.01.2022.r

"dont worry but me is not only expleing series as lavendatale be oso im hope riding and hope das credyt as frends a cherater because one she das dramatik dys so dont worry im say reddy heppynt here and gif you cokolade box like you wona"

☂️🦋💦🦋☂️🦋☂️🦋💦🦋☂️🦋☂️🦋💦

#mereal #wpexpleing #underverse #undertalecomunity #youtube #parents take rule #art 2022

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