Next week I’ll be at Fan Expo Denver (July 1-3), selling and signing prints in the artist alley — if you’re there, come to table P23 and say hi to me! Or any other words you’d like to say!

Prompt 12: [Fingers Crossed] for Luck in Shenanigans

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

In which Mingxia gains a mentor.

Foulques lurked in the shadows of the Black Shroud, observing the comings and goings of those who lived within it.  It was a sunny day, and by all rights, it should have been relatively unremarkable, if a bit busy.  There had been a slight burst of new recruits recently, most of which had been claimed as mentees by their guild seniors already and were heading out to train.  Not that he cared much for them in particular, other than needing to adjust his activities to avoid undesired annoyance.

Thump thump thump thump rustle.

"Okay, so I have to go to this spot in the forest to find a rock…” 

Ah.  There she was.  The fresh Lancer trainee with the mettle not to flee at his challenge.  She had been completely unfazed, and had been more annoyed than anything, to his mild amusement.  She would go far, that one, if she received the proper training- which he would take care of.  Letting those weaklings in the Lancer’s Guild look after her education would only waste her time.  To that end, he had some preparations to take care of.  

Every new member's first real assignment was to retrieve the Stone of Courage from the anole nesting grounds in Central Shroud.  Such a task was meant to test the student's ability to stay calm and focused on their objectives even in the face of unfavorable odds with a weapon art they were still getting familiar with.  From the way that recruit conducted herself, however, the anoles would be little more than a menial chore to her.  No, the Stone of Courage needed a more appropriate resting place- one that would actually challenge her while remaining within her ability to handle them.  

Spirithold would do nicely.  He had already switched the stones, and it would take less than a bell to place the real one in the imp infested crypt. He didn't need to slay any of the beasts- they knew they were outmatched against him.

On his way back he nearly ran into the recruit again.  She was quite a ways off from where she needed to be, and from what he observed, she was running errands for some of the locals.  She was likely an adventurer, and a bit of a bleeding heart from how easily she accepted tasks from passersby.  Well, he had time to spare.  Perhaps this was her way of further training herself.  He'd heard some rumours at Buscarron's about adventurers acting this way.  He settled into the shadows and watched.

Three bells past noon, and somehow, he'd seen her pass by his hiding place about nine times, nose in her map and muttering in frustration.  She'd nearly collided with him a few times but always managed to pass right by him as if he wasn't there.  He wasn't sure if she was deliberately ignoring him or if she was just that oblivious.  After the tenth time she circled through, she finally found the bridge she needed to cross.  He suspected that she was lost, which didn't make much sense to him seeing how well marked most of the roads in this part of the Shroud were.

It took her another...probably five bells to actually arrive at the spot.  He wasn't sure, since after the second bell past when he estimated she should have arrived, he'd gotten bored and left to hunt for his dinner, crossing his fingers that he wouldn't miss her.  

It soon became clear that he had nothing to be concerned about.  Even after preparing and eating his meal, the false stone had not been touched, and the recruit was nowhere to be seen.  He was about to go search for her when she appeared, covered in leaves and grime as if she'd fallen into the river and had a scrap with the local wildlife.  

"Alright, Naked Rock, now to find that other rock," she said, scanning the ledges for her quarry.  Her gaze locked onto the stone within moments.  "And...oh bugger me…" she said, staring at the cliffs, in either frustration or intimidation.

A thread of doubt crept into his mind.  Was he wrong about her after all?  Was she scared of a few dozen anoles?

Half a bell later it soon became apparent that no, it wasn't the anoles.  She made quick work of them as they charged at her.  That was a relief.

Her navigational ability, on the other hand, left much to be desired. 

At first, it was almost funny watching her pace up and down the second segment of the path, throwing anoles over her shoulder and concussing them if they wouldn’t leave.

It got old after about a bell and a half.  After that, it grew steadily more infuriating watching her approach the turn she was to take up...and then turn away in confusion or when an anole tried to nip her backside.  She walked all the way back, got confused again, and turned around, marching right back up to that exact same spot, where the cycle would repeat.  He wasn’t sure if he should leave and see if she’d gotten up there in a few bells or try to direct her up, because honestly, watching someone get lost in a straight line was more than a little bit pathetic.  Eventually, every time she approached the bend, he would cross his fingers and hope that maybe this time she’d have the sense to turn just a little bit to the left and- nope.  Nope, there she goes back down again.

How in the hells is she getting lost on a marked path with no turns?  And why is she still persisting at this godsforsaken hour?  Can she even see anything like this?  

Finally, finally, she figured out that there was a narrow path to her left, and that it wasn’t a dead end into a stone face.  If he had to guess, it must have been approximately three or four bells past midnight- practically morning already, if the faint light in the sky was any indication.  He almost couldn’t believe it.  She’d taken four bells just to find a path.  

He met her at the top, just as she’d knocked out the last of the young anoles and was in the process of picking up the stone.  As soon as she had it in hand, he slowly clapped three times in a sarcastic applause.

“Congratulations, you have obtained the false stone of courage.”  He strode towards her.  She whipped around and gave him a most unimpressed look.  “Aye, you heard me right- false.  What does that say about your courage, I wonder?  Ah, but where are my manners?  My name is Foulques.  We had the pleasure of meeting at the Lancer’s Guild, if you recall.”  The recruit snorted, but said nothing, waiting.  “On that occasion, I turned my weapon upon you and you betrayed not a hint of fear.  It was in that instant that I sensed you were unlike the others- that you had promise.  And so to the present...the trial in which you are engaged- if a “trial” it may be called- makes a mockery of the lancer’s art.  Needless to say, it cannot be tolerated.”  

“I’ll say.  I’ve been here for four bells trying to find this stupid footpath.  Somehow I don’t think the main objective was supposed to be navigational sense,” she deadpanned.  “So, where am I going?”

“I have taken the liberty of moving the Stone of Courage to a more suitable location.  It now resides in the depths of Spirithold, under the guard of fell fiends.  A far more fitting challenge, as I am sure you will agree.  Whether or not you attempt to retrieve the stone is for you to decide.  If you fear for your safety, I suggest you run back to the guild and bemoan the world’s frightfulness to the many brave souls who cower there.  Ywain will doubtless consider it a supremely courageous act.” Foulques said.  “Yet know that a lancer may forge true courage only in the midst of great danger.” 

“...Lots of monsters?” she called as he walked away.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Neat.  Meet you there in a few bells if I don’t get lost again.”  And with that, the hyur woman sprang off the side of Naked Rock, rolling with the landing and tumbling off towards Spirithold.

He crossed his fingers, hoping she wouldn’t wind up lost again.  

Thankfully, this time she didn’t get lost.  The way into Spirithold was paved with wood and bricks, and most of the people she passed were able to tell her approximately where to go, although more than a few thought her crazy for wandering into the cursed building.  A woman’s whoop of excitement echoed from the building to the beat of clanging steel and monster cries.  She emerged much happier than when she went in, stone of courage in hand and a satisfied look on her face.

“My name’s Mingxia,” she said, approaching him as he passed.  “Dunno what your beef with Ywain is, but whatever, not my business.  Nice to meet you, Foulques.  I guess you’re my senior, with all the trouble you went to to prepare this trial for me.  I suppose I’m in your care from now on!  Thank you!  It was a great deal more educational than being stuck in front of Naked Rock for four bells!  I can actually focus on learning how to use this thing since I can’t get lost in a square room!”  She went back to Gridania, a spring in her step.

Well.  That was certainly unexpected.

Rest In Peace: Chapter One

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 1

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

A/n: This is less a labor of love and more like a violent attempt to get this beast of a story out of my head. I attempted to shave and shape it into something other people might be able to read and enjoy. Did I succeed? I honestly don’t know, this is what happens when I’m left to edit by myself. If it’s trash, I apologize. 

“All you need is someone to believe. Really believe. And maybe a new story, right? A reinvention. A rebirth.”  - Faithless Fairy Tale

+

Laura promises pretty things out of her wicked dead mouth, and to a degree he already believes them. Why wouldn't he, after watching her slay Grimnir with his own blade to save the likes of him?

Make no mistake, he's not deceived by her, he hasn't forgotten who she is. Mad Sweeney knows the mettle of Laura Moon, even minus the stolen war god’s blade and his lucky coin. He is not blinded by her one act of mercy to think she isn’t the same woman who crushed his balls in her palms like fucking walnuts.

Who huffed pesticide under hot tub tarps and crawled out of her own grave. 

He is not stupid.

She is a bitch, she is a crass little thing, but there isn't enough strength in his bones to deny she inspires him. To anger. To stand against the tide. To lower himself right down to her level; to tussle in the mud of blasphemies, insults and filth. Everything about her, pulls and demands something of him. Whether good or bad, whether it is her's by right or not, he hands it over.

(He does it with hard hands, with spite and bitterness. With love.)

The sirens of old could sing their pretty little hearts out, but it's only Laura's voice calling him a pussy that could drive him overboard. The reason unclear; to prove her wrong, to chase her, or just so he could drown himself and be done with her.

Not even he knows.

(So of course he agrees.) 

Mad Sweeney sighs deeply, a man condemned to be saved and hangs his head.

“Yeah, alright you mad bitch. Let's hear your theory.”

+

It takes work. Scratch that. It takes a whole fuck ton of work. Most of which starts with research, that Laura herself demands he be involved in.

The deal is this: She will pray to him, not the old fashion way mind you. With tiny offerings of milk and bread, sweetened by faith. Laura has grand plans, she'll write a book, she'll go on tours reading to kiddies and to anyone who listens.

She promises to sue General Mills for defamation of character if they let her.

She will do it until someone else proves to do it better, and then her part of the deal is done. Problem is she'll only do that if he helps brings her back to life in the first place. Properly this time, in her words. No half-assed plans or maybes.

(His part no surprise, is the difficult part)

Laura of course makes it even more complicated. Refuses to go into this blind, ignoring Mad Sweeney's advice that this will only slow them down. She needs faith, not answers to a bloody pop quiz.

Ostara does the best she can to help, giving them access to her many libraries filled to the brim with books on resurrection, from the gods that bestow it and several ones that involve the opposite. Nestled in many of them are testaments to her growing bitterness. Written in the margins with hot pink ink, little notes of what is a lie, what is a cop out and who took credit where none is due.

She is one of the kinder goddesses, there's more love in her heart than not, but the years of abandonment has made spite grow in her like weeds. Perhaps that's why she takes a liking to Laura's plight, she knows intimately what it's like to be buried and forgotten, to emerge from that grave and still stand. Maybe in the shadows instead of the light, but still there regardless.

Ostara does what many of the patrons of faith have done before, when the faith becomes dry and thin, she makes the best of it. After all, start asking for more than what is owed is what started a war, and she has seen what comes from that.

They all did.

Little Laura Moon, with a stolen blade and a heart made of stone. Who saw new gods and old, strong and weak alike and found them all lacking. It is in her, they have seen the true face of the faithless, the mortals who make or break them, and an end they can not escape.

Whether she knows it or not, Laura has become a judgment no god wishes to cross just yet, and that's perhaps another piece of the puzzle why Ostara gives them so much help. She never says as such, never says a single double-edge word to Laura or Sweeney, but still in rankles on him. The not knowing.

“This is more than what you owe me.” Sweeney tells Ostara, one afternoon when Laura has buried her head in some ancient tome -probably in a language she can't even understand- and isn't paying attention to him. It's not a secret that he's cashing in a favor from the goddess for just being here, but he feels like it's asking a lot. To lean on her good heart, her open doors and know that a storm will hit sooner or later.

(Grimnir might be dead, but the war is far from over. There are still the new gods, the old bitter ones and a whole bunch of fucking traps the old bastard set up in case of his end, that will have to be dealt with.)

“You stopped me from ruining what I loved most.” Ostara tells him, with a soft haunted look, “Too long I've been harboring this...resentment. We all have, but what for? The old days are just that. Old. Maybe I miss the power, but stealing spring is on par with a child throwing a tantrum for attention. That's not me.  So, maybe I'll work a different angle, maybe it won't work.” She shrugs her delicate shoulders. “Either way, I'm going to do it as myself. I'm going to honor all that belief, from the first believers that made me a goddess, who were the first to pray to my name, from those who kept true even when the rest of the world didn't. I can't turn my back on those chapters of my story. Otherwise, who am I?

He doesn't have an answer, it's too soon to be a bastard and remind her of all the fears that drove her to Odin's side in the first place. The weakness, the abandonment and death. Was she ready for that? Were any of them? This isn't a job, there's no step below god, either you are or you aren't, and then you're gone from this world.

Sweeney looks over at Laura Moon, with her moldy flesh, stitched together with cheap glue, bits of metal and string like some sort of bastardized dollar store version of Frankenstein. With all ten of her nails cracked and peeling, the heavy stench of her rot that floats with every breeze; makes even his iron stomach clench and roll, how it lingers as a constant reminder of her late state of decomposition. As if it wasn't obvious when she constantly had to pull maggots out of her ears, mouth and nose.

Maybe Ostara has the right frame of mind.

To keep true to yourself or accept a true end. 

There are worse things than death after all.

+

The weirdest part of all this, you know besides the slaying of Grimnir by a dead girl, of him playing fucking librarian and taking tea with the goddess of Spring while a storm builds; is watching Shadow Fucking Moon blush for Ostara.

It's so fucking weird that he can't even insult the bastard for it.

He'll just sit there silently, watching as the two canoodle -and there is no other words for it, because Shadow will be polite as a nun, and Ostara will just sit as close as she can with a beaming smile. They whisper and giggle like children do when they have a crush and Sweeney doesn't even know where to start with how fucked up any of this is.

It also is fucking awkward as shit for him, because it's not just him in the room when this happens. Laura is there too. Making it a test, a competition of strength of will between him and the bitch dead wife. Whoever had to leave the room first in disgust, lost. 

He lost every god damn time.

Whatever happened to her heart when Shadow failed to believe in her over Grimnir (just for a second, for one painful second, but to the dead that’s forever), has either frozen it or broke it. She doesn't mope or cry, thank Christ above, but she doesn't act jealous either. She is hell bent on other things. Like bringing herself to life.

And testing him with her stupid theories.

He hates it as much as he delights in it.

“Kiss me. Ginger minge.” She demands, hands on rotted hips and dull eyes looking up into his, with absolute venom even as she attempts to flutter her lashes and smile up at him. Shit, she just might actually spit acid at this point if he dared comment about how terrifying she looks.

“Fuck off, no.” He tells her. He doesn't have a point to prove, he just doesn't want to do it.

Not like this.

He drops the book he was not so secretly not reading, and childishly kicks at a pile near her in his attempt to get away. Moving to a different room to keep a stupidly long table between them. Not that it would do much good. She still has his strength, all his luck, and she all she has to do is get one hand on him and he's a dead man. Ha.

“You said you wanted to test my theory!” She screeches like a banshee at his retreating back.

“That was before I knew it was fuckin' batty!” He shouts right back. “That was before you started acting all sweet -horrifying by the way, thought your brain had literally rotted out of your fucking ears! Acting all delicate and soft, telling me to kiss you. Jesus fuckin' Christ, no woman! NO!”

Laura chases him around the awkwardly large dining table, and he won't deny he smiles a bit, when her hip catches a sharp corner and curses at him like it's his fault.  

“Well, excuse me for trying to be nice. I thought it would make this easier!”

“Well, you thought wrong, dead wife.”

It's at this, she snaps. Honest to god, snaps, and flings herself in his direction like a damned hellcat.

Sweeney attempts to run away, but she is small and quick, with hands like a fucking honey badger on crack. Her fingers claw into his shoulder, etching into the jean material like it was nothing but silk. Once she has him there, it's a losing battle, as she clings in with the rest of her body soon after.

They fight all the way down. He attempts to throw her off, but she digs her sharp knees into his ribs. Hard enough to bruise, right until she has him on his back, with her legs clutching down on his sides like steel clamps.

With no tenderness, her clammy hands are gripping his head, all the fingers braced to keep his skull still. Forcing him to look at her as she struggles to plant one on him.

“Let.Me.Kiss.You!” She growls, leaning in only to find him squirming more. She gets his nose, his beard and cheek, ghosting over each but never for long enough. “Are you going to turn into a fucking little toad or something? Christ, I am not asking for your virginity, princess. Just a damn kiss!”

Sweeney tilts his head, strains his neck and wiggles like a dying fish, calling her every name in the book and then some that aren't. He does it in English and Gaelic; all between his gritted teeth but none of it moves her. In the end she claws to keep his face down, digging her razor blade nails into the flesh of his cheeks until he screams.

“Fine! FUCK! I said fine, dead wife! DO IT!”

Laura releases her grip and glares down at him, gets close enough for him to gag slightly on the scent of death and decay that surrounds her -but she doesn't kiss him.

“First tell me why you are acting like such a prude over a single kiss.”

“Oh. Sweet mother of Christ above. Does it matter?”

Laura smirks, and proceeds to squeeze with her thighs around his middle. He screeches something foul, and is seconds away from feeling his guts burst like a fucking water balloon when she eases back. Planting her ass on his hips with no shame.

He will deny it until he is fucking blue in the face, but he likes her weight. Her strength. All wrapped up in a tiny package.

“Tell me or I will literally squeeze it out of you.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

Laura clenches, her face smug when a second later he is screaming once more.

(What he doesn’t know is that she likes when he screams, likes the way he bristles and burns, there is something beautiful in the way he strains so hard against her that the veins in his neck pop and pulse.)

“ALRIGHT YOU FUCKIN' MAD BITCH, I'LL SING. I'LL FUCKIN' SING. NOW STOP BEFORE I PISS MYSELF!”

Laura does, because ew.

Delighted in getting her way once more, she is content to wait for him to catch his breath. Merely tracking the beads of sweat on his brow and the way they trickle into his flaming red hair.

“…ah…fuck…” he pants. Licking his lips while looking away from her. Seemingly shutting his eyes in pain, more pain than he was mere seconds ago in. “I didn't want to kiss you…like this. With you making it all business and shady like, like it's a fuckin' handshake.”

“Oh.”

>

What Dreams May Come, Pt.17

Henry's Dreamscape. The Bottle Yard Tavern. (Henry and King Richard sit at a table together, drinking heavily.) Henry: "You must have felt awful. Drink up, drink up." King Richard: "And you know the worst thing about it? Madelena and I never even... Well, let's just say she never let me walk through her garden." Henry: "I don't follow?" King Richard: “I never pollinated her flower.” Henry: “What? Are we talking about the same Madelena?” King Richard: “Yes!” Henry: “But you were married. You didn't insist?” King Richard: “I'm not an animal. I mean, sure, I'll kidnap a woman and force her to marry me, but after that, I'm all about a woman's rights.” Henry: “Good for you. Cheers to that.” King Richard: (They clink tankards:) “Thank you very much. You know, the truth be told, I've always sort of felt that that business should never happen until two people really love each other, you know? I never loved anyone until I loved Madelena, and so that's why I'm... I've never actually walked in anyone's garden.” Henry: “But you're the king?” King Richard: (Standing:) “That's right. I am the king, so watch your mouth, boy. (Sighs:) I'm sorry I barked at you. (Sits back down:) See? This is why I don't have guy friends.” Henry: “Hey, it's all right, it's all right. (Refilling Richard’s tankard:) You're under a lot of pressure.” King Richard: “I know.” Henry: “Your brother's trying to steal your kingdom. He's trying to steal your lady, put you against your best friend. Times are tough. Drink up. Here, let's... let's play a game.” King Richard: “Hmm?” Henry: “Let's just say there's this standing king.” King Richard: “Mm-hmm.” Henry: “And his evil, treacherous brother comes into town, and we wanted to sort of ‘take care’ of him.” King Richard: “Mm-hmm.” Henry: “I don't know, like, say, tonight.” King Richard: “Mm-hmm.” Henry: “Do you think anyone would care?” King Richard: “I don't follow.” Henry: “Kill your brother.” King Richard: “What?! Have you gone absolutely mad? What do you expect me to do, just sneak into Kingsley's bedchamber and slice his throat while he sleeps? What, in this outfit?!” Henry: “Yes.” King Richard: (Gasps, then stands:) “Everyone, I'm going to kill my brother! Drinks are on me! (The other patrons all cheer as Richard sits once more:) Right. Fill her up. (Henry obliges, several times:) There we go.” Enchanted Forest. Past. (The Evil Queen opens the door to a rowdy tavern, and she and Hook enter.) Hook: “Ah, finally. I could murder a goblet of wine.” Evil Queen: "I think you've had enough. I want you sharp for what you must do next.” Hook: “Aye. I will kill your mother, and in exchange, you will bring me to a land without magic, where I can finally get my revenge on Rumplestiltskin.” Evil Queen: “Indeed. But first... I need to know what kind of man you are. You don't know my mother. She's an expert at one thing: exploiting weakness. And I need to make sure you have none.” Hook: “Well, she sounds lovely. So, a test, is it? I've been a pirate for over one hundred years, and my hook has tasted the blood of dozens. Whatever your test, trust me... I've got the mettle for it, love.” Evil Queen: “I want you to kill a man.” Hook: “A man. That's the only description I get?” Evil Queen: “Oh, I'm pretty sure you'll know which one I mean. Face him, and you'll prove you have what it takes to face my mother.” Hook: “I'm not sure I see...” Man: (Interrupts:) “Pirates ain't welcome here!” Hook: “Ah.” (Hook walks forward confidently but stops when a giant of a man blocks his path and Hook looks slightly shocked at the size of him.) Man: “Get out, pirate.” Hook: “Well, it seems we are at an impasse.” (Goes goes to strike the man with his hook.) Evil Queen: (Rolls her eyes and scoffs:) “Oh, for heaven’s sake. (She uses her magic to snap the man's neck and kill him:) Not him. (She grabs Hook and turns him to face the person he is there to kill:) Him.” Hook: (Shocked:) “Father?”

Storybrooke. Present. (Snow White and Emma are walking to work together while Emma explains how shared dreaming works.) Emma: "...So because you and Dad share True Love, it should be real easy for you to find each other." Snow White: (Distractedly:) "Mmhmm. Then we walk through the door, right?" Emma: "No, Mom, haven't you been listening? The door was just how Xanax did things. All you have to do is fall asleep together and... well to be honest I'm not totally sure how it works. It's sort of like, one of you starts to dream and the other can follow inside that dreamscape and boom - you're dream sharing. And I mean, if anyone can find each other, it's you two. (Watching Snow closely:) Mom, is everything all right?" Snow White: "Oh, Emma. There's something you need to know and something you need to hear." Emma: "Okay..." Snow White: "Your father and I, when we entered our dreamscape, we did come to a door. A door that lead us to you. Or rather, the younger you." Emma: "You don't have to tell me this, dreamscapes are meant for the dreamers. It's a very personal thing." Snow White: (Nods:) "I know but... at first I didn't want to go in. I told David that I thought speaking to you as a child would somehow screw things up back here. But David convinced me that we had to, and he was so right. We talked and hugged and cried and talked some more. And, although I know none of it was real, it made me realise just how alone in the world you were. Because of the choices we made. The choice I made." Emma: "Mom, you gave me up to save everyone. I was destined to be the Savior. I understand and it... it took me a long time, but I accept it now. It was-" Snow White: "It was an awful, terrible thing to do. I sacrificed your happiness to save us all." Emma: "Mom-" Snow White: "No, please, let me get this out. (Sighs:) When I woke from the dream, I felt wonderful. But ever since, my head has been filled with memories of the conversations you and I have had since you broke the curse. How you tried to tell me how you felt for all those years and all I did was stand there justifying myself to you. It makes me so angry just to think about it. I-I even did it again in Neverland, when you told me how growing up in the foster system, you felt like a lost little girl who didn't matter. A little girl who cried herself to sleep unable to understand why her parents gave her up." Emma: "Mom, that's all in the past." Snow White: "No. It's right here and now. Do you know the worst thing? I let you apologise to me for how you felt. For what my choice made you feel for your entire life. It took a dreamscape for me to finally understand how much damage I did to you. And how I have never, truly apologised for any of it. Not even once. (Tears falling:) I am so sorry, Emma. For making you feel worthless, for giving you up. For never once putting you above everyone else like every mother should. Can you ever forgive me?" (Emma doesn’t answer, merely staring at Snow for a long moment, before closing the distance between them and enveloping her mother in a heartfelt embrace.) Henry’s Dreamscape. The Bottle Yard Tavern. Exterior. (Henry and Richard leave the tavern, both stinking drunk.) Henry & Richard: ♪ Oh... ♪ ♪ We're off on a secret mission ♪ Castle Armoury. ♪ We've got us a secret plan ♪ Henry: ♪ We're going to go and slay your bro ♪ King Richard: ♪ As quietly as we can ♪ Castle Hallway. Henry & Richard: ♪ We'll sneak up and then surprise him ♪ ♪ Before he has time to think ♪ King Richard: ♪ We're off and away ♪ Henry: ♪ But first, another drink ♪ Henry & Richard: ♪ Da-Da, Da-Da, Da, Da ♪ Wine Cellar. Henry: ♪ We're off on a secret mission ♪ King Richard: ♪ A totally secret scheme ♪ Henry: ♪ We'll slyly do in your next of kin ♪ King Richard: ♪ And quietly make him scream ♪ Henry: ♪ We've got to be swift and stealthy ♪ King Richard: ♪ So none will raise a stink ♪ Henry & Richard: ♪ We're off on our way, but first, another drink ♪ ♪ Da-Da, Da-Da, Da, Da ♪ Raised Walkway. Henry & Richard: ♪ A secret, secret, hush, hush, hush ♪ ♪ Secret, secret ♪ Throne Room. (Richard and Henry sneak silently across the throne room behind the guards backs.) Hallway. Richard & Henry: ♪ Oh, we're off on a secret mission ♪ Henry: ♪ It's some kind of secret plot ♪ King Richard: ♪ We're gonna go ♪ Henry: ♪ Yeah ♪ King Richard: ♪ And then... ♪ Henry: ♪ Exactly ♪ King Richard: ♪ Who are we? ♪ Henry: ♪ I forgot ♪ King Richard: ♪ Ooh, ooh, we're gonna go kill the... ♪ Henry: ♪ Someone ♪ King Richard: ♪ My brother! ♪ Henry: ♪ The rat ♪ King Richard: ♪ The fink! ♪ Henry: “Shh! Lower your voice!” (They come upon a line of men.) King Richard: “Hey, w-what are all these dudes doing in front of Madelena's room for?” Henry: “Yeah, what is it? A party?” Man: “T-the queen's interviewing new consorts.” Queen Madelena: (From inside her chamber:) “Next!” Henry: “Oh, God. She's the worst.” King Richard: (To the Man:) “Hey, you know what? (Nudging Henry:) The queen is really proud of her feet.” Henry: “Mm. Yeah, yeah. Ask her to take her socks off.” King Richard: “Ask to kiss her feet. (Laughs:) That's an order from your king.” Henry & Richard: ♪ Oh... ♪

Storybrooke. Past. Mayor's House, Regina's Bedroom. (Regina wakes up once again. She looks out of the window and smiles.) Storybrooke General Hospital. (Mary Margaret leaves flowers in John Doe's room. Regina is standing behind her, smiling.) Main Street. (Regina is walking down the street and sees Marco struggling to repair a sign.) Marco: “Maybe this time, you won't fall.” (Ruby and Granny argue again.) Ruby: (To Granny:) “This is the last time I'm working the early shift.” Archie: “Good morning, Madam Mayor. Beautiful day, isn't it?” (Not looking where she’s going, Regina bumps into Mary Margaret.) Regina: “Oh!” Mary Margaret: “Oh, Madam Mayor, I'm so sorry.” Regina: “You should be! Watch where you're going next time.” (Mary Margaret nods and walks away. Regina smiles.) Mayor's House Regina's Bedroom. (Regina wakes up.) Storybrooke General Hospital. (Mary Margaret leaves flowers in John Doe's room. Regina is standing behind her, but she looks bored.) Main Street. (Regina is walking down the street and sees Marco struggling to repair a sign and Ruby and Granny arguing. She looks bored.) Archie: “Beautiful day.” Regina: “Save it.” (She bumps into Mary Margaret.) Mary Margaret: “Oh! Mayor Mills, I am so sorry.” Regina: “I ran into you. Why are you apologizing?” Mary Margaret: “No, I should have been looking where I was going.” Regina: “You're not even going to fight back?!” Mary Margaret: “Fight back? Why would I do that?” (Walks away.)

Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. (Regina enters, while Mr. Gold is dusting one of the antiques.) Regina: “I'm not happy.” Mr. Gold: “I believe Dr. Hopper's office is down the street.” Regina: “Oh, I don't wanna talk to him. I wanna talk to you.” Mr. Gold: “Very well, Madam Mayor. What is it you wanna talk about?” Regina: “This town. This isn't the deal we made.” Mr. Gold: “I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about.” Regina: “You don't, do you? I was supposed to be happy here.” Mr. Gold: “Forgive me, but, um, you're the Mayor. You're the most powerful woman in the town. What is there to be unhappy about?” Regina: “Everyone in this town does exactly what I want them to!” Mr. Gold: (Smiles:) “And that's a problem?” Regina: “Well, they do it because they have to, not because they want to. It's not real.” Mr. Gold: “I'm sorry, what exactly is it you want?” Regina: “Nothing you can give me.” (Regina walks away, pulling the gift from Owen out of her pocket and smiling at it. Outside, she walks to a phone booth and dials a number.) Regina: “Hello, Kurt? Mayor Mills. Good. You're still here. I would love to see Owen before you leave. Would you two like to come over for dinner tonight? Great.“ Enchanted Forest. Past. (The tavern is now closed, and Hook is the only remaining ‘customer’. Sitting at a table, he is tapping his hook impatiently, taking another sip of his ale. Brennan, who is still behind the bar, spots him. Brennan steps out from behind the bar, but still keeps his distance.) Brennan: “Look... I don't want any trouble, but we're closed, mate.” Hook: “Why might I cause trouble? Because I'm a dirty pirate? Or because I'm a boy whose father abandoned him on the high seas?”

Brennan: “Killian?” Hook: “Aye. (Slams his tankard down and stands up:) But it's Captain Hook now. You once told me I had to decide what kind of man I wanted to be. Well, Father... this is who I became!” Brennan: “How is this possible? I left nearly a century ago.” Hook: “We both found a way to cheat death.” Brennan: “That we did. Your brother?” Hook: “Liam... was not so fortunate.” Brennan: (Sighs:) “But you... look at you. You grew up. Where have you been?” Hook: “Neverland. I was biding my time until I found a way to kill myself a crocodile. It's a tale of woe and revenge but one that you don't need to be concerned with. It's your tale that matters. So, tell me, father, where does a scoundrel like you run after he's sold his sons into servitude?!” Brennan: “Oh, I'm sorry, Killian. Truly, I am. I ran. I didn't get far. Not long after I left you and Liam, I got caught and put under a sleeping curse.” Hook: “A sleeping curse? How the bloody hell are you awake now?” Brennan: “How does anyone break a curse? True love's kiss.” Hook: “Who could ever find a way to love you?” Brennan: “My nurse. I could hear her speaking... as I slumbered. Her voice was so kind, so gentle. She made me see the error of my ways. I fell in love with her. And she with me. She changed me. I just... I just... wish... that I'd known her when we were together. You could've had the father you wanted. The father you deserved. I'm so sorry.” Hook: “Where is this woman?” Brennan: “A few years... after we married... she fell ill. (He sits down at one of the tables:) The plague. She never recovered.” Hook: “I came here to kill you, Father. Your life was the price I had to pay to finally get my revenge. But we've both lost too much.” Brennan: “You're going to spare me?” Hook: “In a manner of speaking. The world must believe you're dead. The queen, everyone must think I killed you. I can secure you a letter of transit to take you far from this place. Maybe you can start again.” Brennan: (Stands up:) “You'll come with me?” Hook: “No, you see, I had a love, too. And she was taken from me. You can't destroy the plague that took yours, but I can destroy the plague that took mine. I must continue on.” Brennan: “I hope you find peace... Son.” (Places his hand on Hook's shoulder.) Hook: (Shrugs it off:) “We must hurry. Any delay will arouse suspicion. I'll bring the letter of transit tonight.” (Begins walking to the door, but the sound of his father's voice stops him.) Brennan: “Actually... would it be possible... to bring two?” Hook: “Two?” Brennan: “My wife and I... we had a son.” Henry’s Dreamscape. The Dungeons. (Henry & Richard stumble down into the dungeons.) Henry & Richard: ♪ Secret, secret ♪ Henry: ♪ 30th verse, same as the first ♪ King Richard: “Whoa. There's some serious acoustics down here. Hey, everybody! Whoa. (Notices a prisoner tied to the rack:) It looks like someone couldn't do anything if I went like this!” (King Richard laughs as he begins tickling the prisoner.) Prisoner: “Stop it! I'm ticklish!” Henry: (Leans on the bars of Ella’s cell:) “Hi, pretty Ella. Oh, you're so pretty. But not just your face, your brain. It's like your beautiful brain exploded all over your face.” Ella: “Are you drunk?” Henry: (Sighs:) “I should have just kissed you. I should have kissed you ages ago.” Ella: “Yeah, well, um, maybe we should talk about this tomorrow. Okay, bye-bye.” Henry: “Yes, and we will, and we're gonna kiss, and it's gonna be one of those forever sort of kisses. (Reaches through the bars and touches Ella’s nose:) Boop! Okay, I've got to go kill a king.” Prisoner: (Richard continues to tickle him mercilessly:) “I beg of you, sire, stop it!” (Henry pulls Richard away from the prisoner and they leave the dungeons.) King Richard: “Bye, everybody! Echo! Echo! Oh, it’s fun! You try it!”

Storybrooke. Past. (Regina, Owen and Kurt are eating dinner at Regina's house.) Kurt: “This is delicious lasagna, isn't it Owen?” Owen: “Not really.” Kurt: “Owen.” Regina: “It's okay. I know I'm not the greatest cook. Unless it involves apples. (She chuckles and turns to look at Owen:) Speaking of which. How would you like to help me make turnovers for dessert? There's a bunch of apples sitting in the sink. Why don't you go pick out some red ones?” (Owen gets up and leaves.) Kurt: (Laughs:) “Owen is a bit of a free spirit. Like his mom.” Regina: “Is she back in New Jersey? With the boss?” Kurt: (Smiles:) “With the boss. She uh... she passed away six months ago.” Regina: “I'm sorry.” Kurt: “That's why I brought him here actually. I thought that camping, new surroundings, that might help him take his mind off of things, but...” Regina: “I came here looking to start over too. It hasn't turned out quite the way I'd hoped.” Kurt: “And why's that?” Regina: “What good's a new life if you don't have anyone to share it with?” Owen: (Yelling:) “Hey! I thought we were making dessert!” (Regina gets up and heads to the kitchen. She helps Owen make the turnovers and puts them in the oven.) Regina: “Voila.” Owen: “So, how come you're not a mom?” Regina: “It... just didn't work out that way I guess.” (Removes her apron.) Owen: “It's too bad. You'd be really good at it.” Regina: “Thank you, Owen.” Owen: “So how much longer?” (He points at the oven.) Regina: (Chuckles:) “Patience. They're almost done. (Leans on the counter, speaking to him at eye level:) How are you liking Storybrooke so far?” Owen: “It's better than New Jersey.” Regina: “You don't miss your home? Your friends?” Owen: “I hate it there! All the kids at my school treat me weird now.” Regina: “Because of what happened to your mother?” Owen: (Nods:) “Nobody gets it. It's like-” Regina: “There's a piece of your heart missing.” (Regina smiles and puts a comforting hand on his arm.) Kurt: (Walks into the kitchen:) “How's dessert coming?” Regina: “Great! Owen and I were just talking, and I know this might sound crazy, but how would you too feel about sticking around town a little longer?” Kurt: “Uh, stick around? As in?” Regina: “Move here! I could get you a job with the city, and there's a great school for Owen.” Owen: “Please Dad, can we?” Regina: “It could be a chance for a new start.” Kurt: “Look, I appreciate everything you've done for us, but our life is in New Jersey. It's not here.” Regina: (Disappointed:) “Of course.”

Interview with Ash vs. Evil Dead writer Bryan Edward Hill.

I wrote my first article on NAQB with pain in my heart. After spending years hoping for a fourth installment of Evil Dead, three years ago the announcement of the Ash vs Evil Dead pilot directed by Sam Raimi, (that Sam Raimi) and written by Sam, Ivan Raimi and Tom Spezialy… the same authors of the Evil Dead Trilogy was made.

After I watched the trailer with my closest friend we thanked God, hoping that it was not a farce, or a revival made only for money. Then we saw the pilot, in silence, with our eyes wide open. At the end of it, we looked at each other and we both thought the same thing: Evil Dead is back in the best way possible.

During that episode we got so excited by the absurdness of it, the intense thrilling sequences, the over the top humor and that pure horror that kept us glued to the screen since we were kids.

Raimi’s direction explains the Evil Dead world so well in a particular scene featuring the character of Amanda Fisher. She faces off against the demon who possesses the girl Ash had a one night stand with.

At one point, this creature gets up when her brain is decimated and looks Amanda in the eyes telling her, “We know who you are.”

After that point, the rules are clear: Deadites are not decaying Zombies, every deadite requires attention and details. Deadites are not the result of a virus.

When evil shows up again, Ash Williams tries to run away from it because he’s tired of facing it. His neighbor Vivian delivers a message to him when she is possessed, “It is time to test the mettle of man.”

Yeah… These three years were a test for Ash to prove his mettle. The Dictionary defines mettle as the “courage to carry on.” If someone wants to “test your mettle,” they want to see if you have the heart to follow through when the going gets tough.

It is no coincidence that The Mettle of man is also the title of the last episode of Ash Vs Evil Dead.

Ash vs Evil Dead has been canceled. What leaves me bitter about this turn of events is the fact that this series was created to make the fans happy. Now, these same fans have also contributed to the end of the series.

The Mettle of Ash, The Mettle of Bruce Campbell, a man who in order to please his fans, decided to take the risk of revisiting his iconic character 30 plus years later.

If I meet Bruce Campbell one day, I hope I never mention anything about Ash’s universe, I’d rather go in the woods to talk about nature than to mention Evil Dead to him. As a fan, I feel guilty about asking him anything about Sam Raimi and the Necronomicon, because in the end he gave us what we wanted and we failed to respond in kind.

The following is an interview conducted a couple of days before the announcement of the cancellation of the series.

The interviewee is Bryan Edward Hill, screenwriter of the episode Rifting Apart, the eighth episode of the series directed by Mark Beesley (the director of 2×07: Delusion).

I consider this episode to be one of the best in the series, so I decided to contact Bryan on Twitter who was kind enough to answer my questions. There are no questions about the cancellation.

This interview was made in collaboration with Emanuele Crivello of Evil Dead Italia (I will never stop thanking him for the last three years we spent talking about this series and doing everything we could to get it renewed. Also, thank you to the #bringbackboomstick movement designed by Susan Leighton) and the comics portal Lo Spazio Bianco (which dedicated an article to Bryan Hill and his career in the world of comics) and you can read the second part on the blog at the end of the interview.

NAQB: We interviewed the Meza Brothers, and we have discovered that they are hardcore fans of Evil Dead. How much and how did you know the Evil Dead franchise before starting to work on this episode?

Bryan E. Hill: Quite a bit, actually. When I was a kid, EVIL DEAD was that hard to find, completely insane horror movie that only the local, family-owned video store had. Watching it felt like I was watching something that was impossible. It had so much energy and creativity. Instantly, I was a fan of the franchise. I even wore a blue shirt for a little while. Had to be like Ash.

NAQB: AVED has always had a respectable soundtrack, was the music chosen during the script writing process or later in production? And how were The Drifters, MC5s and AC / DCs chosen for Rifting Apart?

Bryan E. Hill: That’s all show-runner Mark Verheiden. He’s got great taste in music, and he knew what he wanted to highlight the moments in that story.

NAQB: The scene in which Pablo fights in the hardware store alone gave me a shiver down my spine making me think of the S-mart Ending of Army of Darkness. Is it possible to read a piece of the script, with your comment?

Bryan E. Hill: I’d love to, but we have to keep the scripts under wraps. I will say that part of the fun with ASH vs EVIL DEAD is figuring out how to slay deadites in the coolest ways. It’s impossible to go into a store with a paint shaker and not think about putting a deadite’s head in it. At least it is for me, hahaha.

NAQB: Rifting Apart is one of the very few episodes in which Ash’s chainsaw does not appear … and it works so well! Is it important not to repeat too much in writing an episode of the series?

Bryan E. Hill: In general, you don’t want the audience too far ahead of you. You want to do new things and sometimes that means not using all the old things, all the time. Ash is such a great character that he doesn’t need a weapon to make a story work. With this episode, we wanted to dig a little deeper into his character and show the heroism he has underneath all that personality. Bruce did such a great job in those moments. He’s incredible.

NAQB: Seeing the complete episode on screen, what is your favorite scene in Rifting Apart?

Bryan E. Hill: I’m a fan of Kelly. Dana is just an awesome person so seeing her refusing to buckle to the evil in the rift was a joy.

NAQB: And what is your favorite episode of Ash Vs Evil Dead?

Bryan E. Hill: Mine! Ha ha ha. Not too proud to say it.

NAQB: Working with Ivan Raimi must be exciting. How was the script of the episode written? And what are the indications provided to you in order to work?

Bryan E. Hill: Ivan created a LOT of the work that inspired me as a kid. Having him in the room was an amazing experience. For everything we were doing, he would tell us what was “Evil Dead” and what may have missed the mark. Having him there was invaluable. He’s just a humble, brilliant and great guy.

--

PART 2:

Between the writing of the episode and the actual realization, how many changes have occurred? Can you tell us some behind the scenes?

Not too many, and all of the changes made the episode better. In television, the show-runner guides everything after the other writers finish their scripts and Mark did the great work of refining every script, making them as effective as possible.

What changes between writing a comics story and writing an episode of a TV series that involves many more people in the making?

Any time you adapt a written work you have to make changes, just to fit the format of live action. Every choice you see in a film or a television show represents the work of at least 100 people, all trying to make it the best thing possible. You try to keep the spirit of the original work, but you have to adapt it to fit the new format.

You have very respectable career, which were the authors who made you understand that in life you wanted to become a screenwriter?

George Lucas and STAR WARS were huge influences on me. As far as straight authors go, I was inspired to be a writer from reading Hemingway. There’s an honest in his work that struck me like lightening.

Which educational path must we follow to become a screenwriter? Is it enough just the school or do you have to do something outside the box?

Well, in addition to studying English, History and those disciplines, you need to read and re-read screenplays. Analyze them and learn from their execution. For me, the work of Joseph Campbell and Stephen King helped form my approach to storytelling.

Where does a good idea for a subject come from?

It can come from anywhere. Dreams. Moments in life. Anything. The key is to follow that inspiration when it hits. If you think there’s a story inside of something, there likely is.

I read the first volumes of Postal. I was really impressed by the protagonist Mark with his Asperger syndrome and his “Everything it’s in the right place” (I can not stop thinking about the song of Radiohead every time that sentence is pronounced). In Italy there are many positive reviews of the volume (published in Italy by Panini Comics). How was working on the plot and what are the satisfactions that came with this publication?

That was really challenging because it’s a story about people, not superheroes. It pushed me to consider people from different perspectives and experiences and learn to write them with authenticity.

I also know that it was bought for a TV adaptation! (We also write a news of it months ago) Can you give us some updates (if you can)?

Nothing yet, but if people follow me on twitter @bryanedwardhill you’ll get updates as soon as I can share them!

If you had not been a screenwriter, what would you have done with your life now?

Batman. I would have been Batman.

What are your future projects? Where do we have to wait? TV or comics?

Currently I’m writing TITANS for DCTV, my DETECTIVE COMICS story starts with the first issue in June. I’m writing MICHAEL CRAY for DC as well, and a few other projects that I can’t announce at the moment. Should have a feature film announcement soon. Follow me on social media!

Hi @romanope​ !

This is your pinch hit valentine. I am so sorry, we have absolutely no idea where they are or what’s happening to them right now. Also, sorry for the lateness! It was tricky trying to pick which of your prompts to write about because they’re all so good! This one isn’t exactly historical, and its more fantasy, but I hope  you like it anyways.

Belated Happy Valentines!

Beauty and the Beast - fantasy crack!fic

Once upon a time, there was a prince in a faraway kingdom. He was as handsome as he was brave, and as kind as he was handsome. The get away here is that he was handsome. Very handsome. So handsome that he can’t get past the castle gates unaccosted by any passersby. Maidens would swoon, Madames would faint and older aunties would pinch his cheeks. There were pats on the back from the menfolk, shoves from the younger squires and tantrums from clingy children. It’s just unbecoming of this kingdom!

Ahem, that’s why when the Prince’s favorite fairy came by, he asked to be given a wish: to make him into a horrible beast so ugly no one would ever want to be near him at all.

This was all well and good but the further the troubadours get from the kingdom, their powers of artistic interpretation rises dramatically. And so it has come to pass that any person of noble birth wanting to test their mettle would immediately be told the story of the horrid Beast and be sent on their way to slay the damned creature.

That was how Antonio met Romano.

—

Antonio fought his way out of the winter-chilled thicket deep in the forest. He was freezing. His sword burned a brand of frost on his back. He had spent the last of his coin on the ship fare that took him all the way to Italius. He hadn’t cared about the destination at the time, (he was too busy evading members of the mercenary guild that sold him off to Lordess Greta) but now he wished he did.

Italius was a kingdom settled on land reaching out to the sea, on the edge of the Great Empire. They spoke little Standard Speech and Antonio had not met a single personage of higher ranking that cared enough about news from the heart fo the Greater Empire. All they seemed to care about was the Beast.

In his attempt to earn a place to eat and sleep, Antonio had promised the innkeeper a single rose from the Beast’s garden in exchange.

The innkeeper only shook his head and handed him a map Antonio swore was made from rat hide. 

Antonio, the fool that he was, never broke his promises. He’ll complete this one quest to thank the innkeeper before going on his way.

He cursed when a tree branch tore through his sleeve. He had to get out of this cursed forest first if he ever wants the chance of snatching that rose. If he had to kill the Beast, then so be it. Perhaps he can return the beast’s head for a bounty.

He did think it odd when there were no notice about the Beast anywhere in the tavern.

There, up ahead, lay a gate made of stone, its wooden doors spread wide, practically inviting for a mercenary like Antonio. He picked up his pace. The gates didn’t waver nor go further, like most castle protections were wont to do. He was all but spit out by the forest and slowly made his way across. 

The castle was normal looking from this far. The grounds between the castle and the gate is massive and decorated by fountains, almost as if this was a pleasure mansion instead of a siege castle. Maybe that was why the people in this kingdom seemed peaceful. They’d never had to fear attacks on land from neighboring kingdoms.

Antonio went to investigate the right side of the castle. The map said the garden was in this direction, so he went around the castle and past a small stone bridge over a brook, to get into what seemed like the rose garden. Besides, there were signs pointing the way.

A stone wall covered by vines burst into view as he went around a corner. A flat-faced boulder on the ground proclaimed it: “The Rose Garden - Keep out!” The vines were thick but brittle, so Antonio had to use his wits to climb the wall and get to the other side.

The smell of roses almost threaten to overwhelm his senses. The flowers were in full bloom, despite the season; its leaves spread thick and verdant as if its mid-summer. Antonio’s gut tensed. The garden reeked of magic.

The castle gate had no magic, and yet this garden did. Antonio had not gotten lost in the forest, no matter how far left he went. Then, he had promised the innkeeper one rose, despite not knowing about the rose garden before that moment.

He wasn’t liking this at all. 

But... a deal was a deal, and Antonio never broke his promises.

He plucks a rose next to him with one of his smaller knives, the cold making it harder to hold. That’s when he hears it, a soft whimpering noise.

Someone was crying.

It was such a pitiful sound, full of anguish and despair. Antonio dropped the rose he was holding and walked into the garden.

There was a figure slumped over a small fountain under a canopy of thick vines, making it hard to see. Their sobs melt with the bubbling sounds the fountain made. Antonio took a step closer before coming to himself.

He had only meant to take a rose. How... when did he get here?

There seemed a quiet voice in his head urging him to do things, to comfort the creature by the fountain. Antonio clutched his head.

“No! Shut up!” he shouted. Then, with his heart filled with fear, he gripped his sword and lunged.

The creature let out an howl no human could ever imitate. It grabbed its back with a fist that resembled a paw. Antonio kicked it’s back, sending it sprawling to the ground outside the canopy, before holding his sword on the top of the creatures head.

He froze. The creature had looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, begging with his green gaze, surprised and hurt in turn. 

And Antonio felt that they were the same.

He, the mercenary, once belonging to a house, now betrayed and hunted by the very same brothers and sisters in arms that he would have laid his life for.

The creature, in its docility and moment of emotional vulnerability, hunted down by Antonio for nothing but a rose and a rumor.

Antonio took in heaving breaths, thinking clearer than he had since he set foot in this kingdom. The sword was still in his hand, pointed still at the creature’s neck.

He jumps back, taking the sword with him.

“Who are you? What is this place doing to me?”

The voice that answered him was surprisingly scrawny.

“It’s the curse, you dumb fuck! Why did you hit me with a sword?! I should have you p-put in the stocks for this!” the creature said, rising to his clawed feet, dressed in a suit of deep blue and gold. Two curled horns protruded out of the curling hair growing on its head. He also wore a crown, its jewels sparkling under the sun.

Antonio raised his sword and the creature... man... The Beast cowered away, curling on itself and crying out in pain. 

“What curse?”

The Beast whimpered. “The one I brought upon myself and my people. It led you here because you... you...”

Antonio pointed his sword at the Beast.

“Only you can break the spell! Please don’t hurt me!”

Antonio frowned. Breaking spells were nasty business. Magic, unless infused in one’s weapons, were so unwieldy and beyond what humans could comprehend.

The Beast continued to look at him hopefully.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Antonio,” came out of the mercenary’s lips before he could stop himself. The Beast’s bright green eyes were compelling. He shifted his gaze to the Beast’s crown.

"I’m the Crown Prince of Vitalius and Lord of...” (Antonio spaced out around this part, since the man started listing his titles in a lot of places.) “Romano...” (Antonio spaced out around this part too. Royalty loved giving their children too many names.) “...di Vargas.”

“Let me hire you, Antonio,” Romano continued with a surprising quiver in his voice. Antonio only now noticed the blood trickling down his side and on to the snow covered ground. “Break this curse while preserving my life and, by my blood, you shall have whatever you ask of me.”

Antonio blinked. That was pretty tall for a noble prince, but then again, Antonio had nearly killed him... can still kill him. “What proof do I have that you’ll keep your promise?”

“My back,” Romano mumbled, “It burns. The physician’s quarters is in the East Wing. We’ll remain unperturbed here for a while yet; My people know not to disturb me when I’m here. 

“I can die here, branding you a killer of the heir to the throne,” he said, pointing at his crown, “and you’ll be persecuted all the way to hell. Or you accept my hire and we both get out of here alive.”

Antonio still wasn’t convinced. “Why am I the only one who can break this curse?”

Romano faltered, his legs trembled and he slid down to the ground in a less than graceful manner. His face turned tomato-red and his cheeks kept puffing in attempt to answer the question.

Antonio took pity on him. “If you say it quick enough, it won’t hurt as much.”

Romano turned an even deeper shade of red. “It’sbecauseIlikeyou.”

Antonio blinked. “What?”

“You’re my type, you bastard! It’s a true-love kind of curse!”

Antonio blinked again.

“Oh god. I’m gonna bleed to death and die as a monster.”

Antonio huffed. “You’re not going to die. It’s only a scratch.”

“Only a scratch-! I’m bleeding!” Romano wailed.

Antonio stepped closer, and closer, and closer still. He got near enough to haul the Beast-- Romano, upright against his shoulder. “I suppose I shouldn’t let you die. Who knows, maybe the rumors are true and you actually look handsome under all that hair.”

Romano spluttered and complained as they made their way out of the secluded garden.

END

Terms, though not necessarily factual:

Italius - Italy/Vitalius

Lordess - title of a female Knight.

Whiterun, part 1 (a long tale by Talviel)

Middas, 4th of Frostfall, 4E 205. I was saddle sore from days on the road. Since leaving Riften, I had covered the three major cities up north: Windhelm, Winterhold, and Dawnstar. In between I’d encountered bandits, fellow travellers, all manner of beasts, as well as some unsavoury folk like necromancers and vampires. Yet in the three months since I left home, I didn’t feel as homesick as I thought I would. I had already travelled from one end of Skyrim to the other during the Dragon Crisis, and once I’d learned all I needed to learn, my heart was fully invested in discovering the rest of Tamriel that I’d only ever seen in maps and books. I downed a potion of stamina and continued to trudge south towards Whiterun, where my calling as Dovahkiin all began.

I reached the city of Whiterun early in the morning. One of the guards on patrol, who recognised me from the Battle for Whiterun, saluted me heartily and we spoke at length while I unloaded my horse, who I’d named Roach, and left her in the care of the stables. Sounding almost alarmed at my change in career since the defeat of Alduin, he wished me luck and pointed me to the Bannered Mare as they were apparently short-staffed since the Redguard woman, Saadia, who worked for them disappeared without a trace. I thanked him and I shouldered my satchel and sacks, labouring up the stairs towards the Plains District. The early risers greeted me warmly for having saved their city, but I waved them off modestly as I made my way through the market square and into the Bannered Mare. Ysolda, the new proprietor, had only just woken up and was occupied with lighting the pit fire in the middle of the room.

She turned to me, yawning, when the door swung open, and her face broke out into a wide grin. “Well look who it is, Talviel of Riften, the saviour of Whiterun and all of Skyrim. Welcome back, friend.” She said warmly, helping me lay down my heavy cargo. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Ysolda. What was I meant to do, leave everyone to roast in the flames of the Stormcloaks and dragons? How are you? How goes business?” I asked, giving her a hug. “Business as usual, same faces and same antics. The city has been rebuilt since the battle, so well done you’d never think anything would have happened. But you’re here early, Dragonborn. Do you need a room?” “Actually, Ysolda, a guard tipped me off that you’re short of staff again. I’m now travelling as a cook, and would love to help out for a while, learn some recipes from you if I can.” She looked relieved and brushed a stray hair from her face. “I swear I’m cursed! Every person I hire either gets sacked or runs off. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, and I’m at my wit’s end trying to find someone to help me out here. How long are you planning on being in town for?” “Well, that depends really. I’ve covered Eastmarch, The Pale, and Winterhold in three months. Haven’t really learned much aside from at Candlehearth Hall and preparing a feast for Jarl Brunwulf Free-Winter in Windhelm. So depending on how much there is to learn, I’d say about a month or so.”

Ysolda smiled knowingly. “There’ll be plenty to keep you occupied. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, as well as a big recipe book Hulda left for me. I also have contacts in old Balgruuf’s kitchen, so let’s just say you’ll be overstaying that month. Of course you get Saadia’s old room and three square meals a day, no questions asked, as well as 350 septims per month. Two days off a week, alternating with me. How does that sound?” “Sounds great, Ysolda. I’m in.” I said, and we hauled my things through the kitchen and up the stairs to a modest but clean room. Ysolda left me to unpack and freshen up, and when I was ready I came downstairs. “Right, it’s now almost nine. Markets should be busy by now. First order of every day is to make sure we get all the freshest ingredients.” She instructed me, and we made our way outside. Gawping faces and cheers surrounded me as I walked along, and I had to resist the urge to pull my hood up to hide my face. We purchased fresh fruit and vegetables from Carlotta Valentina,who was so happy to see me she insisted on gifting me with an enormous wheel of cheese. Staggering to the stall opposite, Anoriath the hunter let out a loud whoop of laughter when he saw me, partially hidden from view by the cheese. “What in Oblivion are you doing here, Dragonborn?” “Working for Ysolda here, actually.” His jaw dropped. “Doing what, shouting rude customers across the room?” Ysolda giggled. “Actually, that would keep those Battle-Borns and Gray-Manes in line. Anyway Anoriath, I’ve got a recipe for venison stew that I want to try out. Will you have venison anytime soon?” “Certainly. I’ll be sure to bring some back for you the next time I go hunting.” “Make it quick, and there might be a bowl of hot stew in it for you.” She said with a wink, as he wrapped up a few slabs of beef and pork for her, throwing in a few rabbits as a hint of his admiration.

We brought our shopping back inside and I began to shelve or set out our wares. Ysolda prepared the bar and talked happily about the events of the four years I’d been gone, as well as telling me to keep an eye out for the Khajiit caravan who would soon be bringing in some barrels of fresh seafood, milk, and butter. I tied on my apron and stoked the cooking fire, checking the day’s menu before getting to work. At noon, the lunchtime crowd rolled in, and stared at me as if I’d sprouted an extra head as I took orders and brought out plates of steaming food while Ysolda ran down to Pelagia Farm to buy some grain and flour. I spent the entire afternoon awkwardly explaining the reasons for my visit about 500 times before Amren noticed the exasperation on my face and offered to run up to the Cloud District so that the Jarl and everyone else could know of my arrival. I thanked him profusely, adding an extra dollop of mashed potatoes to his steak. Nonetheless, citizens who had heard of my arrival came in to greet me and hand me gifts of appreciation, as I was busy trying to clear up and prepare for dinner. Ysolda came back with a huge basket of eggs, with Nimriel and Gloth in tow carrying large sacks of millet and wheat flour. She paid them for the goods and their help before they scurried off, casting furtive glances at me. I was in the middle of awkwardly smiling and nodding to Olava the Feeble when Ysolda clapped her hands for attention. “Alright people, show’s over. Yes, the Dragonborn is back and yes she’s now my head chef. She’ll be here for a while so you can all stop your lollygagging and head home unless you’re here for food, drink, or a bed.” About two-thirds of the crowd shuffled out, mumbling embarrassed apologies.

Just when the parade was over, a messenger from Dragonsreach burst into the tavern, looking for me. He explained apologetically that Jarl Balgruuf the Greater had summoned me, so I sighed and tossed my apron aside. Looking sympathetic, Ysolda promised to take over for dinner. I thanked her, then climbed to the Cloud District. Jarl Balgruuf was leaning in his throne, talking to his steward Proventus Avenicci. The guards announced my arrival with great flair, and I cringed, making my way up to the Jarl. He thudded me on the back in greeting, asking me about my unexpected return. I explained to him (for hopefully the last time that week) why I was in Whiterun and his eyebrows raised in amusement when I mentioned I was working as a cook at the Bannered Mare. “A…cook? Well, I suppose you’re too young to join the Greybeards, if you could even grow a beard, that is.” He joked. “If you’re really interested in becoming a chef, come work in my kitchens for a while if you’re really ready to prove your mettle.” I thanked him, saying I would definitely take him up on the offer when I was ready, and was dismissed.

I made my way through the Wind District, passing Jorrvaskr, when I bumped into a slim auburn-haired woman with green warpaint on her face. I recognised her as Aela the Huntress, one of the most esteemed members of the Companions. I apologised, turning to go, but she gripped my arm with surprising strength. “You’re Talviel of Riften, aren’t you?” She asked in a deep, confident voice. “I am. Saviour of Skyrim, Dovahkiin, blah blah blah.” I said, sounding annoyed. She grinned and let me go. “One of those modest types, I see. Nice change after dealing with all the bravado in there.” She nodded towards Jorrvaskr. “Not going to ask you what brings you back to our humble town since you’re probably sick of it, but the Companions have been in awe of you since you trapped that dragon up in Dragonsreach and slayed Alduin. We never let strangers in, but come by sometime. I’m sure the family would love to meet you, maybe test out your battle skills in person.” “Sure, why not.” I shrugged, taken by her straightforward manner. “I’ll let you go then. Have a nice night.” She said, turning around to head inside Jorrvaskr, but not before I caught an eyeful of her toned legs and behind ascending the stairs in her very short excuse for armour. I blushed, and headed back to the Bannered Mare.

Ysolda looked frazzled as she ran between the bar pouring drinks and doling out bowls of hot cabbage soup with bread. She shoved me into the kitchen as soon as I stepped in the door, and I immediately picked up the slack, naturally working the way I did for Keerava. Soon she looked less stressed as she passed tankards of mead and bottles of wine across the counter, gratefully pocketing the coin. The night wore on, Mikael strummed his lute and sang, and I had to kick a few drunk brawlers out (something Ysolda was not good at doing due to her slight build). I threw out the leftovers and washed up, finally extinguishing the kitchen fire just after midnight. Ysolda shooed a couple of stragglers out, and we ceased trading for the night. “Are you sure you can’t stay forever? I sure could use you more often! Well done on an impressive first day’s work. We wake at 8am tomorrow and start again.” I nodded, and climbed the stairs to my room yawning. Loredas rolled around, my first day off work, and I gratefully slept in until 10. Waking up and having some bread and cheese for breakfast washed down with a potion of stamina, I stepped out into the bright Whiterun morning. I got my knives sharpened at Warmaiden’s, bought a few more stamina potions at Arcadia’s Cauldron, then looked around, at a loss for what to do with my day. I contemplated going hunting, but felt too lazy to take my bow and run around outside. Suddenly, I remembered Aela’s offer from the other night, so I ascended the steps to Jorrvaskr and opened a door hesitantly.

I was greeted by a mixture of loud cheering and heckling, and came face to face with a woman and a man throwing well-executed punches at each other while the rest of the Companions cheered. Unsure of what to do, I just stood in front of the door pretending to look indifferent until the woman landed a cracking blow under the man’s ribs and he crumpled to the ground. Coin was exchanged, glasses were raised, and the fighters wiped the blood off their faces, congratulating each other on a job well done. Aela spotted me from across the room and let out a loud whistle, bringing all activity to a standstill. All eyes turned to me and I smiled awkwardly, raising a hand in greeting. “Come here to try out?” A burly man in heavy steel armour called out. “Oh, no, um…Aela asked me to come over the other day. Practice fighting and stuff. I’m Talviel. Of Riften. The Dragonborn.” I stuttered, hating every second of public speaking. “Aah.” They all said knowingly, and dragged me down to the main room, which was dominated by a fire pit and a long table piled with food. I made a mental note to ask who their cook was.

Introductions were made, and I was greeted coolly by Vilkas, the new Harbinger since the death of Kodlak Whitemane: a Nord who was a dead ringer for the man who first spoke to me when I came in. He had dark brown hair and a greatsword strapped to his back, and wore even more kohl around his eyes than I did. “So, Dragonborn, eh?” He said, sizing me up and grunting when he saw my short, single handed Nightingale blade. “Don’t suppose you can teach us how to shout in a day?” I shook my head. “Either you train for years like Ulfric Stormcloak did, or you just happen to be the Dragonborn.” “Damn.” He sighed. “Well, either we have a nice cosy storytelling session, or we head to the practice yard and see if you’re as formidable a fighter as they say you are.” We all decided firmly on the latter and headed out the back door to their training yard.

We devised a system where lesser members would come at me in twos, while the seniors would attack me one by one with their weapons of choice. Ria and Torvar were the first to face me, and I adopted a battle stance, readying the blunt practice sword I’d been given. The two Companions were heavy handed, and I dodged them easily, taking Torvar down with a swipe behind the knee and Ria with a blow to her ribs. Njada Stonearm and Athis, the brawling pair from earlier, came at me with the same fervour, but dodged around me cautiously after seeing what I’d done with their friends. It turned out Njada was called Stonearm for a reason, and my blade was almost knocked out of my hand as hers smashed against it. Using the opportunity, Athis sprang up behind me, but my perception skills, honed by the Thieves Guild, sensed him coming. I quickly shoved Njada so she stumbled back and ran at her, planting my feet against her chest and backflipping over Athis. Shocked by what had just happened, Athis had little time to react as I threw myself at him, pinning him down, and stabbing my sword into the ground half an inch from his head. He tapped out, but not before Njada sprang towards me, blade pointed at my heart. Grunting, I leaned as far back as I could to avoid her reach, then flipped to my feet before rushing at her. As before, she tried the same tactic of disarming me, but this time I ducked before our blades could make contact, causing her to stumble. I shoved a boot into the small of her back, ramming my sword against the thick protective belt she wore. “Who’s next?” I yelled, panting.

“Come at me.” Farkas, the man in heavy armour said, drawing his greatsword. I sighed, as I hate dealing with heavy fighters. Scanning him quickly for weak spots, I noticed his upper arms were uncovered. Perfect. Lumbering towards me, he took a great swing at my head as I stepped easily out of the way. There was no sense in trying to push, kick, or knock him over- the man was like a brick. I simply hopped around him for a while as he continued to swing heavily, then made my move when his guard was down. I swiped, and the blunt sword in my hand bashed against his unprotected left arm. “Ow!” He shouted, and I hopped to the right, doing the same thing. I ran backwards and took a bow as Aela cackled. “Both your arms are off, Shield-Brother.” “That’s gonna leave a bruise.” Farkas grumbled, patting me on the shoulder as he went to the patio. “Good fight.” Just Vilkas and Aela left. Vilkas was much like his brother, only much more limber and with almost impenetrable armour. “I think by now I’ve killed one of every living thing in Skyrim. May be time for a trip to Morrowind.” He said, and charged towards me. I rolled to the side, taken aback by how he used a greatsword as if it were as light as a butter knife. Wearing him out took a lot longer than his brother, and I gave up on that tactic after a few minutes. Finally, as he made a downward swing, I skipped over his sword and caught his eye, feigning expression of combined pleading and beguiling that Sapphire made me master, which caught him off guard. I took the moment to slash forward, stopping just before his throat. “Bam, you’re dead.” I smiled, and he raised his hands in defeat, looking at me with increased respect.

Finally, Aela stepped forward, drawing her bow. “I notice you have no shield. You’re in trouble.” She winked at me as she walked to the far end of the practice yard. Without warning, she fired at me, and the arrow whizzed past my right ear. I sharpened my senses the way Niruin taught me how in the cisterns, and prepared myself. The arrows came almost unrelentingly at me, as I jumped, ducked, and weaved, making my way towards Aela. As I was almost within arm’s reach, she fired a last arrow at me and I deflected it with my blade without thinking. “How the-” She spat as she drew her knife, crouching. It turned out that she was just as nimble as I was, and a force to be reckoned with. We danced around each other, blades clashing, when she suddenly leapt up and threw me to the ground. We wrestled as her Shield-Brothers and Shield-Sister shouted words of encouragement to her. I wrapped her in a headlock and she struggled to break free. With my free hand, I jabbed her in the ribs with my sword. She rolled facedown on top of of me, groaning in defeat, then unexpectedly bit me on the lip, a knowing look in her eye. I didn’t know how to react, but felt something stir within me that I only ever felt when I touched myself in the dead of night thinking of Brynjolf. She pushed herself off, and pulled me to my feet, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Well, I don’t know how you did it, but you bested all of the Companions without a scratch on you. You sure you’re not going to join us?” Vilkas said, impressed, as we stepped onto the patio, still out of breath. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be leaving Whiterun soon.” I smiled, pouring myself a tankard of water from the dining table that was set out. “That’s a shame, Dragonborn. We would be formidable with you as our Shield-Sister. But enough talk. A good fight makes one hungry, and I’m sure you’ll agree. Come, Tilma is sure to have brought out the apple pie by now. Best in Skyrim.” The rest of the Companions agreed, and we trudged inside, dirty and sweaty from our scuffle. We sat at the long table, eating hungrily and passing each other dishes. Finally, an old woman ascended the steps in a corner, carrying a large, fragrant apple pie that she set down and began to cut into slices. When my slice was placed in front of me, I almost smashed my face into it. As Vilkas had said, it was probably the best in Skyrim. “Hey Tilma? Would you be willing to share this recipe with me, by any chance?” I grinned, burping. “Well, that’s a closely guarded secret, dear, but bring me some cooking of your own and we’ll see if you’re worthy.” She smiled, clearing away the used plates and tankards. “Huh? The Dragonborn cooking?” Ria chuckled. Full and happy, I leaned back in my chair and told my tale, which evoked laughter from everyone. “The best fighter in Skyrim, working at the Bannered Mare as a cook. Tilma’s right, you’ll have to bring us something to prove your worth. Just not dragon stew.” Farkas laughed, coughing into his napkin. “I get Tirdas off. I’ll take you up on that.” I was hellbent on getting that apple pie recipe.

End of part one

Short story time!

The Princess in the Tower --Prologue-- Once upon a time, there was a King and Queen who lived in a magnificent castle. One day, the Queen gave birth to a baby girl, who they named Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s beauty drove the King to tears, for she looked just like his beloved Queen. Her eyes sparkled like stars, and her dark curly hair sprung around her flawless ebony face whenever she moved. But the King and Queen knew that a prince will pursue her one day. The last thing parents want is for their kids to be unhappy, so they raised Elizabeth to be independent. She could wield a weapon as well as any royal guard, could ride like any royal knight, and her knowledge far surpassed that of the Kingdom Library. The King and Queen were very proud of their daughter.            When Elizabeth came of age, her parents called her into the throne room and told her that suitors will likely start courting her. ‘What will you have me do?’ Her parents exchanged a look before the Queen spoke. ‘Do whatever you see fit to find the right partner.’ The princess stared down at her slippers, thinking back to her countless hours in the library. A strange clarity filled her eyes and her cheeks glowed. ‘Father, Mother,’ she sang, ‘may I take up residence in the tower?’ Her parents frowned at each other, but they knew their Elizabeth is no fool. They agreed, and gave Elizabeth the key to the tower. The princess made all her plans in private; not even the King and Queen knew what she was up to! But they trusted their skills as parents and their daughter’s undeniable intellect to not interfere. Part One: Soon, the first suitor arrived at the gate. ‘Open the gate, my dear King! I am here to win your daughter’s hand!’ His white horse pounded the ground fiercely, seeming just as proud as its rider. The King, biting back the things he would have liked to say to the entitled prince, simply repeated what Elizabeth told him to say: ‘Oh brave prince! I’m afraid the princess is in peril! A wicked dragon stole her last night and is holding her captive in the tower! If you can save her, you will have her as your wife.’ The prince puckered his lips at the inconvenience, but said nothing as he turned his steed around, heading for the tower. Elizabeth had just finished the last of her preparations when she heard the thundering gallop of a horse’s hooves. Leaning out the window, she plead: ‘Oh brave prince! You must slay the dragon!’ The prince heard her cries of distress and stormed the tower, sword drawn. As he pulled open the door, smoke engulfed him in darkness. The stench of burning cloth made him gag. But the princess is said to be the most perfect of them all, and he shall have her, he decided. He continued up the tower before hearing a threatening rumbling. ‘Who dare challenge me?’ Just like the King said, a dragon was guarding the entrance to the princess’ prison. Swallowing hard and trying to still his hands, the prince bellowed: ‘Release her, foul beast! Or you shall taste my blade!’ The dragon barred its teeth and inhaled. The prince jumped for cover just in time to not be incinerated. His cloak, however, was not so lucky. The prince returned to the King empty handed. Soot covered his once spotless uniform and only half of his priceless cloak remained. Although the King did not say so, the prince’s despair pleased him. ‘Oh my!’ The King faked concern, ‘why, what happened?’ The prince glared up at the King. ‘The dragon nearly killed me, you oaf! No woman is worth getting burnt for! And I hope you know that you will get a bill from my tailors soon! Hmph’. With that, the prince rode away. ‘Good grief, no daughter of mine will marry such an ass’. The King spun around. ‘Esmerelda, you must not say such things!’ The Queen smiled widely. ‘I was just saying what you were thinking, darling.’ His anger melted away, and he laughed with his wife. Part Two: A day passed and two more suitors appeared at the royal gate, both astride horses. The King could have sworn that one horse seemed aggressive while the other looked timid. As before, both princes wanted the princess’ hand, and again the King acted his part. Seeing them ride towards the tower, the King’s curiosity grew. Whatever could his daughter be up to? No, he thought. He must trust her. Elizabeth once again heard galloping hooves approaching her tower. Again, she ran to the window and yelled down at the princes. ‘You must slay the dragon!’ Although one of her suitors kicked down the door and muttered something profane under his breath, the other suddenly got cold feet and stumbled back to his equally jittery horse.            Once the rude prince finally reached the dragon, he swore at it and demanded it get out of the way. The dragon flashed its teeth in anger. Never has it experienced such disrespect. ‘No.’ The prince grinded his teeth and spewed out more unsavoury language. Yelling, he stormed the dragon, sword pointed towards the beast’s heart. The dragon reared and head-butted the prince with all its strength. With a howl, the prince tumbled all the way to the bottom of the tower stairs. He struggled to his feet and rode away as quickly as his horse could carry him. Part Three: With every new day came a new lot of suitors, each with their own flaws. The King, like before, acted his part and pointed them all to the tower. What happened there, he did not know, but he did see every suitor ride away in terror. He sighed, wondering if his Elizabeth wasn’t being too picky with the bachelors, but his wife reassured him that their daughter knew what she was doing. One rainy day, only one suitor showed up at the door. Even more peculiar, he was on foot. ‘Your Highness! I’m here to rescue the princess!’ To the King’s astonishment, the voice was that of a woman’s, and lacked any of the traits of the other suitors. The fact that she knew about the dragon told him that word has gotten around…perhaps that is why there is only one today? Nonetheless, the King played his part and saw the new suitor depart.            The suitor’s boots left fresh mud caked on the stairs and water dripped down her armour. Smelling something earthy, the dragon lifted its head, ready to face the new prince who dared challenge it. What it saw, however, startled it. The figure standing on the stairs looked…ordinary. No showy cape, or shining jewellery, not even a clean pair of shoes! ‘Who goes there?’ It whispered, its overwhelming voice making the very floor tremble. The stranger swallowed before speaking. ‘I’m Camille, and I’m here to rescue the princess.’ The dragon tilted its head. Camille? That is not a name of any prince it has ever heard. Camille slowly lifted off her helm as to not spook the creature, revealing a perfectly shaven head and mesmerizing hazel eyes. Her skin was the same shade of dark caramel, like the princess’. ‘I mean you no harm, mighty dragon! I just want to return the princess to her parents!’ The dragon’s eyes widened. She…doesn’t want to marry the princess? How…peculiar. With a thud, it placed one front talon on the other. ‘And if I decide to burn you to a crisp instead, what will you do?’ Camille straightened her back, although she was shaking. ‘Dragon, please! I don’t want to hurt you!’ She drew out a small dagger from her belt and kicked it down the stairs. ‘See? I’m unarmed!’ The dragon continued to glare through her. ‘Show me some respect, child.’ Camille obeyed, kneeling before it. She dared not move despite hearing a series of shuffling. ‘Congratulations, Camille. You’ve passed my test.’ The voice is one she’d never heard before. It sounded refined, gentle and…royal. Looking up, there was no dragon bearing her way, but a breathtaking young woman. Her eyes sparkled like nothing in this world, and her dark hair was tied up with a silk ribbon. Getting to her feet, Camille looked around her. ‘Where…where is the dragon?’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘I was the dragon.’ Camille’s jaw dropped. ‘My parents warned me about being courted soon, so I set up a little act to test the mettle of my suitors. They all failed…except you.’ Camille blinked rapidly. ‘But princess, although you are the most beautiful being I’ve ever laid eyes on and your mind is simply brilliant, I am not here to marry you.’ Elizabeth smiled. ‘I understand. Let’s go to the palace. You need some dry clothing.’ Camille obeyed. Upon hearing their daughter’s adventures in the tower, the King and Queen embraced her. ‘Brilliant! Simply brilliant,’ the King chanted. Camille stared on at the royal family, feeling a strange emptiness inside her. Soon, she will have to go home, alone. Although she did not know Princess Elizabeth for long, she felt happy seeing her smile. Her energy and intellect made her hard to dislike; she’d make a fine ruler. | Just as Camille was about to leave, a realization gripped her. She’s never been in love before, but this feeling in her stomach was hard to deny. She spun around. ‘Princess!’ Elizabeth came back to the door. ‘This is madness, and I understand if you don’t want to, or if you’re not allowed to but…but…’ Elizabeth tilted her head. Camille just about yelled her next words. ‘Will you marry me?’ Elizabeth smiled, pulling Camille into a hug. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’ --Epilogue-- Not a single eye was left dry at the royal wedding, which was held under a peach tree at sunset. The King and Queen happily welcomed their daughter’s wife to the family and could not have been more proud of Elizabeth’s actions in the tower. The princes were invited too, but not out of respect, the King assured the couple, but out of spite. Only a handful of them accepted the invitation, while the others probably threw tantrums in their royal chambers, alone.

DualShockers’ Favorite Games of 2019 — Michael’s Top 10

December 31, 2019 2:00 PM EST

2019 was filled with a ton of great games. Here are 10 of my favorites, one that I’ll continue to play, and one that I’ll never play again.

As 2019 comes to a close, DualShockers and our staff are reflecting on this year’s batch of games and what were their personal highlights within the last year. Unlike the official Game of the Year 2019 awards for DualShockers, there are little-to-no-rules on our individual Top 10 posts. For instance, any game — not just 2019 releases — can be considered.

Since I started working for DualShockers in 2017, one of my favorite parts of being part of this staff is deliberating on what my top 10 games of the year are. It’s a moment where I can actually celebrate video games rather than criticize them. 2019 is no different, but I would be lying if I said this was the easiest list I’ve created. In fact, it is the exact opposite.

Curating this list has been a struggle. Not because there was a lack of great games in 2019; there were so many I felt strongly about. The list you see below is my 4th revision, and I think I got it right this time. But before we go over this list, I want to get a couple of things off my chest.

2019 has been such a learning experience for me, both in positive and negative ways. My taste in games has changed dramatically, and I found a video game I truly loathe. Like, if someone mentions its name, I go on a 20-minute rant about why this game is bad. And I will now discuss these two topics with you now.

The Siegeman Cometh

I just want to take a brief moment to talk about Rainbow Six Siege. Initially, I had this game at the number 10 spot, but decided to dedicate a short section of its own. On my top 10 list from 2018, I put Ubisoft’s tactical shooter in that last number 10 spot. Although it came out in 2015, it was a game I started playing that year, and it has since become my personal “video game comfort food.”

Not only is it a brilliant shooter that is mechanically sound, and rather different than the rest of the shooters out there, it really changed the way that I play video games. This might be a whole other topic entirely, but playing the 100+ hour long RPG or whatever genre is just not for me anymore. They aren’t bad games, and there may be some long experiences on my list this year, but I put a lot of value in how I spend my time now. Rainbow Six Siege respects my time with its rewarding gameplay. I can play a match or two and feel satisfied, and then spend the rest of my day with my wife and my dog.

Now that I am actually looking at my list, that is sort of the theme here with my top 10. With a couple of exceptions, all of my favorite games of 2019 can be taken in bite-sized chunks but still be an absolute delight to play. Rainbow Six Siege taught me to respect my time, and the games that will be listed below are indicative of that notion.

YIIK: A Postmodern Piece of Garbage

Speaking of respecting my time, let me tell you about how my 2019 video game experience began. Back in January, I played an indie game called YIIK: A Postmodern RPG. I reviewed this game, which you can check out here. Playing this game was the antithesis of time well spent, as it is probably my least favorite thing I have ever experienced in digital media in my entire life.

Now, you may be staring at your computer monitor or laptop reading this saying, “this man is being hyperbolic to reel us in. It’s a trap!” I assure you, this is no hyperbolic notion. I think I hate this game. There are some good things I can say about it. Its music is pretty great. The gameplay is fine. I can maybe see why someone likes the look of its minimalist art direction. But none of that really saves the atrocity that is YIIK: A Postmodern RPG.

The moment that has stuck with me and made me realize why I cannot stand this game happens a bit later, when you have much of your party with you. You go to a mall, and there is a mysterious van you have to try to access, but you need a key. Alex, the main protagonist, asks if anyone can pick a lock. He doesn’t point to anyone, just asks generally.

Claudio, one of two black characters in your party, randomly says this:

“Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I could? Like, out of this ragtag band of misfit friends, the black guy could pick the lock. And don’t pretend you didn’t think it! So, to answer your racist ass question, I cannot pick a lock! Well, at least not a car lock. I went through a Sherlock Holmes phase and learned to pick basic locks.”

YIIK: A Postmodern RPG has moments like this where it’s as if some woke 14-year old teen decided to write about racism for Twitter likes. It doesn’t just stumble on these sensitive topics, which include racism and depression, but falls on its face creating a crater deeper than the largest crater on our moon. It is so terrible to the point when someone mentions this game’s name, even in jest, I go on this rant about how out of touch this game’s message is.

So, why am I even talking about this game? Well, for the same reason I mentioned Rainbow Six Siege. Ubisoft’s shooter taught me to respect my time, and make every session with a game as satisfying as possible. YIIK: A Postmodern RPG taught me that but in a completely different and unexpected way. In a way, it is important to me in its own unique and terrible way.

Okay. Here is the actual Top 10 list now.

10. Slay the Spire

As of this writing, I only started playing this yesterday. Going down the list of games the staff at DualShockers compiled for our Game of the Year deliberations, this one stood out for some reason. Maybe it’s the name, or how positively some of the staff was when talking about it; whatever it was, it convinced me to use my Xbox Game Pass subscription and try out Slay the Spire, and I absolutely love it.

Maybe I’m jumping the gun here by saying this is one of my favorite games of the year. I’ve only probably put an hour in with two runs — I unlocked the three playable characters — but it left me wanting to play much more. Mixing turn-based action with a card game, Slay the Spire is an incredibly satisfying experience, especially if you manage to craft a deck that actually works as intended.

Slay the Spire just has so much variety and possibility. With the three unique characters, the seemingly endless possibilities with building your deck, and constant surprises as you climb to defeat the spire’s main boss, there has yet to be a dull moment. Again, I may be suffering from some recency bias, but Mega Crit Games’ interesting amalgamation of the strategy and card game genres.

9. Death Stranding

Despite my own beliefs, Hideo Kojima actually released Death Stranding in 2019. I swore this thing wouldn’t be out until 2024, but here we are. Kojima’s latest certainly is a divisive game, isn’t it? Understandably so: there are some wild design decisions that, in some cases, works to its benefit. But there are other times you’ll just stare at your TV screen just saying, “why?”

Death Stranding makes a great first impression, as you are introduced to Norman Reedus’ character Sam Porter Bridges, a “porter” (a.k.a. delivery man) who eventually works for his mother’s company, Bridges. Yes, it’s pretty on the nose. From its use of Low Roar’s music to its intriguing story and visuals, it presents itself very well in those beginning hours. And then Chapter 3 begins.

My biggest problem with Death Stranding is pacing. Chapter 3 is such a slog with one of the least interesting narrative threads in the game. Fragile’s tale would have been told more effectively if it did not take up a third of a 45-60 hour game. With its constant backtracking paired with its clunky gameplay, it truly tested my patience.

Now let’s fast forward a bit to Chapter 5, the absolute worst portion of Death Stranding. Testing my mettle once again, the Mama focused chapter has the most laborious backtracking delivery routes within Sam’s adventure. This is where I almost quit. It was just filled with an overwhelming amount of tedium, having to trek up a mountain through 12 inches of snow. Add a terrible stealth section, and you maybe have one of the worst moments in a video game in 2019. But despite that garbage Chapter, I persevered.

With all this negative criticism, how did this game make it on to my top 10 video game list for 2019? Because I stuck around after Chapter 5. After you finish Mama’s arc, Death Stranding gets so much better. The story actually begins to unfold, with much of the quality bits of Kojima’s tale finally emerging. You also get to witness two of the best video game performances of all time. Tommie Earl Jenkins’ Die-Hardman and Mads Mikkelsen’s Cliff Unger put on amazing performances in those last two hours, making every slog through those snowy mountains worth it.

It is such a hard sell to tell someone who might be falling off Death Stranding to keep playing until the end. In fact, I wouldn’t. Please, play the games you want to play and enjoy. But by the end of Death Stranding, you’ll be happy you finished it.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Death Stranding.

8. Void Bastards

This is another game I found while browsing the ever growing list of games available via Xbox Game Pass. Void Bastards by Blue Manchu is a roguelike inspired by the immersive sim genre. It isn’t a full immersive sim, but it scratches that surface. I mean, it makes sense as it was made by former BioShock and System Shock 2 developers, two of the most influential immersive sims of all time.

Is Void Bastards on that same level? Not really. But it’s one of the most fun and goofy video game experiences I’ve had all year. You are legitimately exploring derelict spaceships and fighting weird creatures with a staple gun. Thanks to the randomly generated ship layouts, different client traits, and comic book-inspired graphics, Void Bastards continues to be such a joy.

7. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

So, I had quite a lot to say about Activision and Infinity Ward’s Call of Duty: Modern Warfare in my review, and I still stand by those statements. I do think the campaign is lacking. With all the messaging prior to release insinuating it would show the gritty reality of war, I thought maybe this will be something different. It wasn’t. There were some good moments and decent design deviations from prior installments, but it was a fairly standard Call of Duty campaign.

What has reeled me in since that review is Call of Duty: Modern Warfare‘s multiplayer. I really only play Team Deathmatch and Domination, but I’ve had a blast with its slightly reworked gunplay. I do still have some problems with some of the maps and spawning. Specifically, St. Petrograd, Euphrates Bridge and Ramazza are such a dread to play in. But generally, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare‘s multiplayer is the best the game has been since Advanced Warfare. Obviously, that is a personal opinion; please leave your “hOw cOUld yoU tHiNk CoD:AW iS gooD, bOotZ oN gRounD FTW!!!! #USUCK” comments below.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.

6. Astral Chain

To be quite frank, I thought the Nintendo Switch’s slate of games in 2019 was weak, at least in comparison to the last two years. On a personal level, nothing really spoke to me. And the things that did, like Super Mario Maker 2, didn’t leave a lasting impression. Not that games like Luigi’s Mansion 3 or Fire Emblem: Three Houses are bad games; they just aren’t my jam. Despite that, one game that really stood out from the Switch’s exclusive lineup in 2019 is Platinum’s Astral Chain.

In some ways, I can see why someone wouldn’t like Astral Chain. There is definitely some clunkiness to its controls, as you have to simultaneously control the protagonist and a Legion, a living weapon that looks like something out of Neon Genesis Evangelion. Compared to other games by Platinum, like Bayonetta and Nier: Automata, the flow of combat isn’t as fluid.

However, if you can get past that clunkiness, you will find a very rewarding and synergistic combat system that is really a joy to experiment with. Once you’ve unlocked every Legion and weapon, there are so many combinations to choose from depending on what you are up against. You can upgrade your Legions with certain buffs or with its skill tree, which I found actually changed how I played the game. It really is an engaging combat system if you can get past that initial clunky hurdle.

Astral Chain also has a fairly compelling story that, at the very least, will draw you in from beginning to end. It’s not the Switch’s The Last of Us, but it’s a fun ride filled with satisfying, albeit predictable, outcomes. The Howard twins have a pretty wild adventure, and it’s one I thoroughly enjoyed.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Astral Chain.

5. Samurai Shodown

At PAX East 2019 I played Samurai Shodown for the first time, and I instantly saw its draw. It is such an approachable fighter, but has incredible amounts of depth. I feel like this description is apt for a lot of popular fighting games, but I think it is especially appropriate for SNK’s latest. Its slower pace, lack of crazy combos (i.e. Mortal Kombat and Killer Instinct), and simple button inputs make Samurai Shodown so easy to pick up. But knowing when to strike, reading your opponent, and timing those super special moves is when things get a bit more advanced.

While my time with Samurai Shodown has dwindled since it launched earlier this year, it is a standout fighting game that is wholly unique. It is truly unlike anything else in the genre, especially in the competitive scene; it brings some variety to the typical lineup we come to expect. Sure, it may not be as hype as Tekken 7, but you better believe your heart will be racing after every round in Samurai Shodown.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Samurai Shodown.

4. NHL 20

Every year, I latch onto one sports game. In recent years, it has been one of the many entries from the MLB The Show and WWE 2K franchises. But since I didn’t get The Show this year, and WWE 2K20 was kind of a disaster, it was NHL 20 that took up much of my gaming time in 2019. I should preface by saying that I played this game when I felt my gaming time was limited. Turns out, I always felt like my gaming time was limited. I’ve played hours of EA’s hockey simulator, and it never felt like wasted time.

NHL 20 doesn’t do anything too out of the ordinary. After all, professional hockey has been and always will be professional hockey. But it was a solid version of that professional hockey experience filled with great features that go slightly beyond the traditional three-period matchup, namely with its additions to its CHEL suite of modes. Yes, I did play the battle royale inspired Ones Eliminator, and a whole lot of it too.

It also just feels like the best iteration in terms of gameplay. It hardly deviates from previous entries, but its moment-to-moment gameplay just feels more fluid, which is all I can really ask for. Also, my dreams can become a reality by bringing my poor Red Wings to the Stanley Cup Finals, because that is certainly not happening this year.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for NHL 20.

3. Devil May Cry 5

I don’t have much to say about Devil May Cry 5, except Dante impersonating Michael Jackson may be the best moment in gaming in 2019…

On a real level, Devil May Cry 5 has such diverse combat between the three playable characters, Nero, V, and Dante. Every character is unique, with their own moveset, movement, and metal jam to kill demons to. Imagine murdering demons while riding a motorcycle to the sweet sounds of deathcore. That is Devil May Cry 5, and it’s awesome.

It is also a testament to the RE Engine. While it was initially created for Resident Evil VII: biohazard, it has been implemented in other Capcom projects, including Devil May Cry 5. It’s a great indicator that this engine can do more than produce beautifully rendered dark and dingy zombie houses, and weird hillbilly freaks. It can handle all the wild combat you expect from an action game with hardly any hitches.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Devil May Cry 5.

2. Judgment

Oh, what a brilliant adventure that Ryu Ga Gotaku Studio has created. Every single piece of content in Judgment is why I play video games. There are so few games that really grab my attention the way Takayuki Yagami’s wild ride did. And I mean that generally, not just in 2019. What I’m saying is Judgment is one of the best games of the generation, and everyone should play it.

There is just so much to do in Judgment‘s Kamurocho and every piece of it is worth experiencing. You can go to one part of the map and play Virtua Fighter 5, and then go to another part and stop a group of perverts from ruining someone’s life. It is just varying degrees of ridiculous, with each activity being different from the rest. Yet, it manages to stay true to itself. Everything fits into Judgment‘s wild mold of Kamurocho.

Of course, there is a main story that maintains the goofiness the majority of Judgment upholds, all while telling a genuinely intriguing crime thriller narrative. I was so enthralled with Yagami’s personal story of defeat and his uphill battle to redeem himself to no one but himself. Alongside the whole serial murder plot, and some of the later portions of the story, I was captivated from the very first minute, and could not put the controller down.

To close this off, I want to show you a scene that brings me so much joy. When I am in a bad place, I just watch this scene, and I know everything will be okay. If you know anything of my interests, I think you can guess which scene this is. Yes, it is Yagami kicking ass while pulling off gnarly tricks on a skateboard. He does a kickflip while kicking a dude in the face.

HE DOES A FREAKING KICKFLIP WHILE KICKING A DUDE IN THE FACE!

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Judgment.

1. Mortal Kombat 11

When I initially made this list, I was sure Judgment was going to be my number one. It has everything I want in a video game. A good story, great writing, a private detective kicking a dude in a face while doing a kickflip on a skateboard. But no game has taken over my life like Mortal Kombat 11 did in 2019.

I’ve been a fighting game fan since I played Street Fighter 2 for SNES. But I was never a proficient fighting game player. Sure, I could do some work as Green Lantern in Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe or as Donatello in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Tournament Fighters, but I was never actually good. I just kind of pressed buttons and hoped things would work out.

That ended with Killer Instinct for Xbox One, when I actually decided to learn a character (in this case, Thunder) and try to actually play competitively. I wouldn’t say I was amazing, but I could pull off some gross combos if I was able to get that first hit in. Then Tekken 7 released in 2017 (which was also my number one game for that year), cementing the fighting game genre as my official personal favorite. Again, I was better than average with Hwoarang, but I wasn’t great. But that didn’t stop me from learning.

In a way, that beginning step of learning a fighting game’s mechanics and picking a “main” is something I look forward to. You bet when Granblue Fantasy: Versus and Guilty Gear: Strive release next year, I’ll be doing exactly that. Finding a character that perfectly flows with your play style is one of the most satisfying feelings you can ever have while playing a game, and fighting games are filled with those moments. Heck, even challenging yourself and trying to be proficient with a character that doesn’t flow with your playstyle is equally rewarding.

Which brings me to Mortal Kombat 11, a tour de force in the fighting game genre. Like any opinion on the internet, it’s subjective. I could see why someone would think Tekken 7, Street Fighter V, Samurai Shodown, Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, or any of the numerous fighting games out there is the best. But it is Mortal Kombat 11 that gets that title for me. I absolutely love this game.

It goes back to that idea of finding a character that suits your playstyle. In Mortal Kombat 11, Kabal is that character for me. But unlike Donatello, Thunder, and Green Lantern, the former Black Dragon member’s moveset just instantly clicked with me. Sure, I learned a few combos, but everything about the character just made sense to me. I haven’t felt that sort of connection to a game since the very first Rock Band came out, and I was able to play drums. But that was just because I play drums, so naturally, it was easy to familiarize myself with Rock Band drums.

That isn’t to say I didn’t get wrecked online. I have certainly been destroyed by better people, and I don’t believe I can go to a competition and do well. But this is the first time I thought that I was genuinely good at a fighting game; not just scraping by with a few combos. I actually understand the rules of this game, and I know how to use them to my advantage. It just depends if the other person knows those rules better than I do.

I guess the best way I can wrap this up is with a brief story of when I played a ranked match at DualShockers Managing Editor Logan Moore’s apartment. As usual, I played as Kabal and was fighting against either a Noob Saibot or Liu Kang player. Honestly, I don’t remember. All I remember is the character opposite of me was annoying as hell.

On the third and final match, I tilted a man into losing, and it was one of the greatest gaming moments of my life. Why? 1) I tilted a grown man. 2) I definitely should not have one that match. 3) Logan and I were howling at the TV because the match was so ridiculously close. There was so much excitement, anxiety, and happiness in just that one moment, and I can’t think of any other video game that has provoked such a response from me in 2019.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Mortal Kombat 11.

Check out the rest of the DualShockers staff Top 10 lists and our official Game of the Year Awards:

December 23: DualShockers Game of the Year Awards 2019 December 25: Lou Contaldi, Editor-in-Chief // Logan Moore, Managing Editor December 26: Tomas Franzese, News Editor // Ryan Meitzler, Features Editor  December 27: Mike Long, Community Manager // Scott White, Staff Writer December 28: Chris Compendio, Contributor // Mario Rivera, Video Manager // Kris Cornelisse, Staff Writer December 29: Scott Meaney, Community Director // Allisa James, Senior Staff Writer // Ben Bayliss, Senior Staff Writer December 30: Cameron Hawkins, Staff Writer // David Gill, Senior Staff Writer // Portia Lightfoot, Contributor December 31: Iyane Agossah, Senior Staff Writer // Michael Ruiz, Senior Staff Writer // Rachael Fiddis, Contributor January 1: Ricky Frech, Senior Staff Writer // Tanner Pierce, Staff Writer

December 31, 2019 2:00 PM EST

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