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phantomflower42 · 3 years

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Deciding The Technological Level of Your Setting

When writing a story, it is important to determine what level of technology your characters have access to. That determines what tools or solutions a character may have to solve a problem. It will also influence their hobbies. Before going too far, consider what technology actually is. It’s not all about electric gadgets.

What is Technology?

Technology is knowledge used to solve problems or create useful tools. Phones and computers come immediately to mind, but there are others. Roman aqueducts are an example of ancient technology helping to solve a problem. Knives are another basic example. Medical care is a very important technology.

Basic Factors When Deciding Technological Level

If your story is a fanfiction for another work, research what items wouldn’t look out of place in the setting. Take a look to see what the characters use in the work when completing tasks or performing hobbies. If the work takes place in a certain real year or time period, look up that period’s available items such as radios or printing presses, and head off from there.

Sometimes, the development level isn’t the same for all areas in a work or for all types of technology. This is okay. There are many reasons why this may happen. Some areas are more studied than others. Rural areas take longer than cities to adopt now inventions.

The Legend of Korra is set in an analogue of the 1920′s. Characters drive cars, ride trains, listen to the sport of pro-bending on the radio, and have sepia/black and white photos. But when Korra and her companions visit the Earth Kingdom in season three, it is heavily undeveloped compared to the other settings. It is hinted the Earth Queen’s corruption stimmed its growth.

In Naruto and its sequel series Boruto, they do not have cars, tanks, modern firearms, or many modern style shoes. But, the setting has TVs, refrigerators, wireless radios, batteries, satellites, color photographs, and eventually phones and laptops. They explore the advancement of the setting in several of the Naruto light novels, especially the first one (Kakashi Hiden: Lightning in the Icy Sky). In Kakashi Hiden, it is mentioned that the invention of an airship will cause many people to lose their jobs.

If your work is an original fiction, first decide whether it has its own timeline or is based in the real world. If it takes place in a real world place and time period, please look up what people in that area used. If a particular field of science or theory is more advanced in your work than in that actual time period, determine how it would influence the technology in the story, study in related fields, and the social classes interacting with each other.

Should the tale be based in its own world, you have free reign. How advanced of a setting do you want? Is it set in the beginning of time, in a medieval era, in your setting’s equivalent of the Victorian or Edwardian era, in modern day, in the far off future, or even at the end of the world?

Are certain types of technology more advanced than others? Which kinds are banned or discouraged? Are certain parts of the world more developed than others? Are supplies of certain items limited and/or nonreplaceable? How does this affect the average person’s lifestyle? You decide.

Making Original Technology For Your Story

Sometimes, the technology shown in an existing work isn’t helpful for dealing with a certain task. Maybe your original story needs a special tool for issues specific to the setting or an equivalent item for a modern gadget that doesn’t exist in your world. Sit down, and ask yourself a few questions.

Why is this item needed? Does your character need a way to store cold food? Are their culture’s medical techniques different from the norm? Do your characters need a way to stay in contact while split up on a quest? Need is the mother of innovation.

What does it look like? What materials is it made of? Is it bulky or sleek? How large is it? What color is it? How is it shaped? Is it expandable? It is the item’s first version, or an improved model? How well does it perform?

What situations are this item used in? Who invented it? Has it been made in bulk? If so, how does it affect trade, medical care, communication, hobbies, or travel? How common is it? How expensive is it?

Besides the benefits, consider the item’s weaknesses. Does it run out of its power source in a certain period of time? Does it need a long time to recharge? Is the item fragile? Is it prone to malfunctions? Is it too bulky to be hauled everywhere? Is your setting’s equivalent of cell service patchy? Does relying on the item for too long cause health problems for people using it?

Technology and Magic

If the story is one where magic also exists, consider how the two interact. It may depend on the individual setting. Remember that magic can be considered a scientific field. If in a world where magical and non-magicals live separately, magic users may use their power to invent versions of modern tech.

Oftentimes, magic is presented as incompatible with modern technology, or at least electronic devices. In the book series The Dresden Files, the main character Harry Dresden is shown to short out any inventions past the 1950s. He actually has to leave modern hospitals as soon as he’s mobile after injuries, in fear of his magic shorting out another patient’s life support. This issue also forces him to drive an old-school car, use an ice box to store cold food, and go without a lot of modern conveniences like heated water or air conditioning.

In Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, it’s stated that technology fails around large amounts of magic or largely magical areas. However, the limits are not clearly established. Harry Potter uses a watch until it’s destroyed in the Triwizard Tournament’s second task in the Black Lake. He continues wearing it out of habit afterwards. Those usually require batteries.

Certain technology can run off magic instead of electricity, such as the Weasleys’ car or Colin Creevey’s camera. Diagon Alley is in the middle of London, yet there’s no fuss about random blackouts in the area or the local security cameras shorting out.

In other situations, magic may coexist alongside regular technology. They can even enhance one another. In Sailor Moon, the Sailor Guardians protected the Moon Kingdom before its destruction, and gain magical abilities while transformed. Yet, the Moon Kingdom and later Crystal Tokyo are depicted as high-technology societies; the Moon Kingdom had an artificial climate dome around it, and an advanced computer.

Consider what approach you want, and the consequences there of. Settings where magic is supposed to be hidden have the risk of ‘outing’ magicals to non-magicals if electronics like phones or crosswalks fizzle out whenever they’re in public. Modifying items with magic may be a special scientific field. Imagine a person with a pacemaker or insulin pump wandering into a highly magical area, only for their medical device to fail on them. Even a few bigoted magical folks would hate that they’re unintentionally causing harm.

Technology and Magic Subsection: Harry Potter

As Harry Potter fanfictions are very common, it’s important to address the series and its approach to magic and technology interacting. As mentioned above, technology blacks out around high amounts of magic or highly magical communities, but limits on what is affected and what isn’t weren’t clearly established. Battery-run items like Harry’s watch seem to work fine, but phones and bugging devices do not.

In post-Deathly Hallows works, think of how jarring it may be for muggleborns or muggle-raised wizards to go from being able to text friends in a moment to having to mail letters to family members by owl. New Hogwarts students despairing over not having Facebook anymore makes for a good joke, but consider practical problems.

Say a girl with cerebral palsy has magic. She uses an electric wheelchair because her limbs don’t work well. She receives a letter from a wizarding school. Let’s hope the girl’s parents and the school’s representative talk it over and find a solution to her dilemma before she sets foot in Diagon Alley. She will otherwise be unable to move under her own power in a magical environment.

Wizards are portrayed as ignorant to modern trends. Arthur Weasley goes crazy over various gadgets. He even wonders what people use rubber ducks for. It’s implied that Harry Potter misidentified his cousin Dudley Dursley’s broken video game console as a Playstation One in 1994 when writing to Sirius Black. The Playstation One was not released in Europe until September 1995. Multiple wizards are shown fascinated with the Dursleys’ microwave when they visit at different times. It is stated that pureblooded wizards resist adopting muggle tech unless there is no choice.

That is not to say wizards are a technological blackhole. Many items like radios, cars, and others can be enchanted to work off magic. A lot of wizards enchant or create their own magical items. Sirius Black and James Potter used a set of two-way mirrors during their school days, with the device acting similar to a cell phone. They and their friends Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew eventually created the Maruaders’ Map, which showed nearly everyone on Hogwarts’ grounds and most of the castle. The Weasley twins come up with Skiving Snackboxes so students buying them can skip class without too much trouble.

Maybe Professor McGonagall goes soul-searching after the final battle, and tries finding ways to make the school more non-magical friendly. She would have ample reason to do so; she would not want the Carrows’ days of cruelty to return in any form. She may modify the wizarding wireless radios to cast local muggle stations or keep an enchanted phone in her office so non-magical families of her students can contact her in emergencies.

Keep in mind that a wizard OC can’t sneak their modern video games into Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, but watches, certain cameras, radios, and handheld games with non-rechargable batteries could make it in. Non-electric devices like notebooks, pencils, pens, paints, or board games have no restrictions.

How Technology Affects Living Conditions

How advanced society is affects how housing and chores are handled. Many modern perks like clean water, heating, air conditioning, refrigeration, and fast travel are taken for granted. If the characters in your setting lack certain conveniences, think of how they will tackle different problems that usually require them.

For instance, a lot of people use electric washers and dryers to take care of their clothes. Getting them cleaned, dried, and sorted is easy. But, what if your world doesn’t have these items? Do the local people scrub them by hand in a river or on a board? How are stains dealt with? Are herbs mixed with the clothes to freshen their scent? Are they dried on a clothesline? If it’s raining or snowing, what is done instead?

Think along similar lines for various issues. Water might be boiled for safety, or mixed with alcohol. Shades will be pulled if too hot. A lot of food may be canned, cured, or otherwise stored in a root cellar when fresh cannot be bought. Preparations for any trips may take a long while. People will sleep under mountains of blankets to retain heat.

Conversely, works set in the future may find all of this child’s play. Think of how a lot of appliances can be activated now with a smartphone application. Do robots grocery shop on the characters’ behalf? Are clothes dried and sorted in one machine in a few minutes? Can a room’s windows be programmed to show a certain background, like in the Hunger Games film? Are fingerprint scanners used so characters may access restricted areas?

Think long and hard how the technology of your world will influence daily life.

In Conclusion

Technology is a powerful force. Sometimes characters may solve problems too easily with it, but all time periods have some level of it. It’s important to know what the limits of inventions in your setting are. Otherwise, someone may complain ‘how did they end up with this issue when so-and-so gadget could have solved the problem?’, or ‘why is the ninja watching television?’.

Have a nice day.

#storyguide technology

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attic-witch · 3 years

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An Ode to Water 🌅

This is just a bit of writing I did at the beginning of the year when the sun and moon were in Pisces. I figured it's appropriate for this Last Quarter Moon in Pisces today while the sun is in Cancer. I struggle a lot with the shadow aspects of my water placements but I wrote this as a reminder that we need to appreciate the deeper darker parts of ourselves and treat them as we would the natural wonders of the universe - with honor respect.

Water, Water, Water

Keeps us moving,keeps us breathing.

I drink, I cleanse, I cower

From treacherous seas and sudden showers.

The Water knows my stories, knows my secrets, knows my fears

I soak my self from head to tail

And ask the Moon to guide as I set sail.

She rules the tides,

Day and Night

With the Sailors, I grovel at her sight.

For she rules the Oceans

Without mercy,

Why should she ever release her reign o'er humanity?

These celestial beings were here long before

And will remain until the end of days

Until then,

We shall drink, we shall cleanse, we shall cower

Kneel before the Water

Water, Water, Water

A.G. 2021

#Water #Moon in Pisces #Witchcraft #Paganism #Last quarter moon #Release #Cancer season #Witchblr #Original content #Prayer #higherself #Shadow work

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worldcakecakecake · 4 years

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Feliciano and the King of Hearts

Chosen by the gods as the Queen of Hearts from the moment of birth, we follow Feliciano’s story as he grows into royal life, learns to rule, go against age old customs, and his relationship with his husband to be, the King of Hearts.

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 IChapter 9I Chapter 10I Chapter 11I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15 I Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19I Chapter 20 I Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23 I Chapter 24 I Chapter 25 I Chapter 26 I Chapter 27 I Chapter 28I Chapter 29 I Chapter 30 I Chapter 31 I Chapter 32 I Chapter 33 I Chapter 34 I Chapter 35 I Chapter 36 I Chapter 37I chapter 38 I Chapter 39 I Chapter 40 I Chapter 41 I Chapter 42 I Chapter 43 I Chapter 44 I Chapter 45 I Chapter 46I Chapter 47 I Chapter 48 I Chapter 49 I Chapter 50 I Chapter 51 I Chapter 52 I Chapter 53 I Chapter 54 I Chapter 55 I Chapter 56 I Chapter 57 I Chapter 58 I Chapter 59 I Chapter 60I Chapter 61 I Chapter 62 I Chapter 63 I Chapter 64 I Chapter 65 I Chapter 66 I Chapter 67 I Chapter 68 I Chapter 69 I Chapter 70 I Chapter 71 I Chapter 72 I Chapter 73 I Chapter 74 I Chapter 75 I Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Timoteo had passed on to the third realm, one evening while they were enjoying from some homemade gelato from Galdi. The angels didn’t have to explain anything, with their approach, both just knew. Timoteo tearfully had to say his goodbye, and Feliciano gave him a tightening hug, wishing him the best journey, comfort with the Aces and a good cycle into reincarnation. Timoteo hoped that he could find the four stances, that he could have the universal alignment, save Ludwig and their world.

He was taken into the most darkened path that day…and Feliciano hasn’t seen him since. New people came, others continued to leave on, yet Feliciano didn’t find another person with who he could share a good connection as he did with Timoteo.

He spent his times lonely, thinking and plotting. In one part, it was thinking words for what the four stances could be. He took to writing them on a hidden wall, carved with the little magic he had allowed himself to use. He had a hundred and fifty written, reading them over and over, trying to find the proper pair to the kingdoms.

In another part, it was wondering how he could get Ludwig back. Yes, he knew where was…but he didn’t know how to get him out from there. The only way he could think of…had the chance of destroying him as well.

Then…the point and focus of everything…how was he going to use all of this to defeat Khaos.

He would groan and lay his head in defeat every night, more dejected each time he returned to the Galdi household. He had a corner there to himself, to try and pretend rest, sometimes sketch or wonder on answers. It was also the same place of reunion and planning, always someone there to plan the next event. He didn’t mind it, it actually helped to ease him if his mind was in too much turmoil, the speech always enough to lull him to sleep.

For the weeks that passed, that was his routine. This night in particular, he arrived to three ladies chatting joyously over the table. They were too festive, smiling and laughing in a way that Feliciano just couldn’t ignore. He let the smiles spread to him too as he tried to peek over, Giulia covering the parchment before Feliciano could read out something definitely.

“What are you doing?” She asked playfully.

“The real question is,” here Feliciano took a chair to join them in their sitting, “what are you three doing?”

Giulia sighed as the other two gave approval to let him know. “You do sleep here, so we can’t really hide anything well.”

“Not to mention you always get loud.”

The other chuckled while Giulia glared. “Very well, your majesty. We are making preparation for this month’s square festival!”

“Already? It’s only been-”

“In a couple of days…it will actually be a month since the last one,” one reminded.

“Only…a couple of days…” Feliciano was startled, silenced into realizing how much time had passed…his time in the second realm almost over. The stress was evident, the girls having to speak on to keep Feliciano from succumbing to it.

“You know…this is a pretty private and very tight group…the island just doesn’t let anybody work on the preparations,” one smug, earning just the right playfulness to arise in Feliciano.

“Really?”

“Yep! Not even…Queens of Hearts or…whatever!”

“You three have been here pretty much the same time as I have. What deeds have you done to be granted such tittles?” Feliciano chuckled.

“Bossiness, surely,” one admitted, Giulia gasping in insult, earning large laughs in the room.

“Feliciano, we’re only messing around. Come, sit with us, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of great ideas to add.”

Feliciano sighed…debating if to indeed give to this while he had a wall he was carving that needed more words…a space that needed more thought…all while a ravaging war was taking apart his world. He shouldn’t indulge…he should be…but this was a chance to be creative, a moment of his past, to do well and grant these people a day of joy…for many their last before they pass on…including his own. He was persuaded for happiness, taking a pen, and looking through the list, adding or adjusting, chatting along with the ladies like the worst turmoil wasn’t happening.

So focused he was…sometimes he would forget to go to the wall, all those thoughts on stressful words vanishing in his excitement for feast. He joyed in these coming days, trying fabrics of heavenly approach, foods of the delicacy of his old world and company of gold. It was like this world had become his, under this spell that made him forget all, dancing and laughing all the excessiveness he couldn’t on those last months of sorrow. And oh what a feast, what playful aura that made him even join the children in running all across the square, being part of that very image of dream that had welcomed him the first time he came here. Many toasted and danced, congratulating Feliciano on his part of the celebration. Truly a pride that reigned him as he ran and skipped all throughout with all the splendor of his people. Nothing could extinguish this, nothing could-

“My sun, my moon, my land, my love…”

The tune disturbed all, the melancholy of a woman reigning strong despite the felicity in this square.

“Wha-what?” Feliciano awoke along with what felt like a strong hit on the head. But in his awakening, he could only focus on where this song was coming from. No one seemed disturbed, they all went along in their enjoyment.

“…the sky has all fallen…”

There it was again, no one heard it, no one reacted, only he startled and searched for anyone in the crowd who could be shouting it.

“…the kingdom weeps their king’s farewell…”

He had to look for it, he had to know where it was coming from, what it was, who it could be. What if they had answers? What if they could say more to the meaning of this song that had haunted him for so long without explanation or story? What if it was Augusta? Romulus? No matter, he settled off, in confusion to the children, halting their game wandering where the Queen was going, deep in the streets of their town, away from this jubilation.

“…and a queen breaks at her lover’s parting again…”

It yet continued to sing seeming to come from every corner, but no matter how quick Feliciano tried to reach it, it was gone, back to trying to reach its distance, ever moving and evasive.

“…but in your defend, all will join and fight for our future…”

Feliciano was growing out of breath, he was frustrating and ready to shout out. “Where are you…where are you?” He ended up whispering to himself as he rounded another empty corner. Nothing yet showed itself, but he knew the coming lines to be the last, to be the end.

“…so the heavens will bless in your rest our perfect peace…”

“No…” and just like that, the melody was gone, as if it was never there, the silence he met at this edge of the island haunting. Feliciano wanted to burst in this miss…what he thought a closeness to an answer…an answer…oh no, the answer! He groaned realizing the wasted time, reminded of a mission that he laid forgotten, forcing his hand unto his eyes to somehow keep the tears that wanted to flood.

How could he just let it all fall? Go on and ignore that his world needed him.

Something, something, there had to be something he could do quick, in whatever time was left, in whatever- someone was coming. Out from the distance…small, no details to be clear yet, a very entrance like the one he had made when he first arrived. He had thought only one…but then he saw a second, a third, a fourth…many…many began to come forward.

“What…” he whispered to no one but himself…trying to make sense, wondering who they could be and what was their meaning. Feliciano walked slightly forward, standing on the waters as they walked toward, Feliciano distinguishing their realm gifted wear, Heartian, Italian…they were all passing spirits, newly arrived here. There were countless, spreading across like something large had been spilled over, even the sailors and rowers finding difficulty to move between them. They were all lost, wondering, trembling, some held hands, some comforted and felt in that welcoming bliss, others only decided to follow the person who was most ahead, a woman who had been transfixed by the form of the island, her pace quickening the more details she noticed. And then…there was the Heartian Queen, standing singularly, present and still as the majesty of a fresco in a church. That was the pulse that rushed her forward, ignorant to all as she stood before him, trying to believe him there, baffled, stuttering, yet her entire being showcasing questions.

“Sua Maestà,” in the end was the only thing she could say, trembling and eyes watered…betrayed.

Feliciano took her hands, comforting and trying to instill the trust she had lost and the welcome he could give. They stood in silence together, for Feliciano had no words, and the ones he had were nothing worth of an apology that she could forgive.

He decided on asking, bracing for the blame, but an answer he needed. “What is going on? Why are so many of you here? What has happened?” Despite so many, Feliciano told them in ease, careful, his hold still as dear as he awaited.

The woman breathed, remembering with pain to then answer: “Destro is in Italy.”

Feliciano startled and trembled, a suddenness that could have dropped him to the floor if it wasn’t for the hold the woman kept. He was shivered with a cutting pain, as if the reckoning told in those simple words was scratching on his skin.

“What…? No! Last time I was there, he was…he was still in Clubs, only reaching the Heartian border…the defend should have been good…he shouldn’t have reached Italy…he shouldn’t have-”

“But he has!” She ended up shouting. “Your majesty…you have been gone for more than a month and in that time Destro has swarmed the entire southern Hearts Kingdom. Greece, Iberia, Croatia and Turkey are all gone! Italy was well on its way to join the rest. They’re evacuating people to Scandinavia in the hopes it can remain the last stronghold…but it has not been quick enough…” she gazed to all there…those who didn’t have time…didn’t have the right defend or the soldiers weren’t enough. “I know there has been calls to evacuate Germany…for when Italy falls…”

“…he’ll be in Germany…he’ll reach Berlin…”

“In a matter of days!”

Heavy breathing, a storming realization, turning away to handle these strong words of his world, his home, his kingdom, his cities, dead or on the verge of dying. More the weight of his duty pressed on, blaming, shouting at his incapability of avoiding this. His province, his people, dying, and soon his family and even his body in the castle will be ready to be engulfed in true finality.

All, no matter how far the threat still remained, could feel the rumble, hear the screeches and even smell the smoke that was coming to their reach.

“Everyone out?” Lukas asked who the inhabitants of this beautiful red building had been. Bricks of old, red flowers coating well its gorgeous façade…it hurt to know that soon it will be gone.

“Yes, that’s all,” a man came to take the lantern Lukas offered, one infused with strong protective spells that would cover the group he was granted.

“You may follow the rest. Keep with everyone, stay with a hold on your loved ones and chosen belongings. You will leave the city walking but transport might come to those who are sick and weakened. Keep faith! Scandinavia will be the refuge we need,” Lukas repeated once again…and once again the people only responded with a darkened nod, turning, dejected, looking more like they were walking to an end than actual safety. They began to join with other groups, each shinning with their own red lantern, the only color…everything else just seemed to blacken and grey with the miss of its people leaving, left to the demise of the wrath of a monster.

“All this street is empty,” Tino announced, hurrying to Lukas’s side.

“How is João dealing with the roundabout of Prenzlauer?”

“There’s still three buildings with inhabitants deciding what they should bring with them, even with the insistence. Not to mention they are running out of lanterns.”

“I’ll let Abasi know we need his people to make more. You go and help João. We’ll see what we can do about Mitte afterwards.” And they rushed off between the large masses of movement, with carriages, others crying and refusing, and the bright red lights.

Up from the heights of the castle, Renata and Arthur looked as a plentitude headed off through the northern route, between hills away to the safety they hoped Scandinavia could remain. The red lights alighted them, a shield they hoped was enough to stand and protect them all. They could see only small parts of the city remained and how they hoped they hurried.

There was a far-off blow, a large cloud arising to the sky, mixed with red, flashes of white, and then a shriek that had Arthur and Renata leaning down and covering their ears. From the smoke, they could see but a small image, still vanquishing the outskirts of the city, but the fact that they could now see Destro from the comfort of the castle was provoking and fearing.

“Ready to start formation!” Herakles came hollering, heavy breaths and panic clear. Renata would never get over the new scars of war on him, so much petrified shout in the expression she had met and knew as calm and comforting.

“Then go and start!” Arthur shouted, exasperated, shaking and surely ready to fall apart if it wasn’t for the fact that he was being counted on as a big part of the formation. They all began to leave, joining Herakles in his hurriedness.

“Has Augustino been taken out of the castle?”

“I’m sorry to inform that he is still here,” Herakles refused to look back, focused on getting them through the halls.

“What? He should already be out of the city!”

“He denies everything. He has shouted, cried, even began hitting some of the caretakers. Right now, he refuses to leave Antonio and Lovino’s side.”

“They can’t accept to leave him here!”

“But they had made their decision.”

“No! Absolutely not!”

“They’re-!” By now Herakles turned to this distant aunt of his, Renata seeing now clearer than ever the reddened veins in his eyes, seeming to pierce at his sight. “-they’re…still hoping Feliciano can come through.” There was a tremor, the castle shaking, some stone cracking and dust falling upon them, but yet they continued this exchange as if nothing, standing and menacing. “Feliciano is supposed to be entering the third realm today and tomorrow we have to awaken him, with or without the power of the alignment. No matter what happens, tomorrow is the decisive point that will tell us if we will all survive or die. No matter what, Antonio and Lovino had come to the decision that they will remain and face whatever happens with their son in their arms…better here than dying somewhere he doesn’t recognize or without his family.” And Herakles was off before Renata gave more to the discussion…to the realization that this was the reality, this was the last resort, the last place.

She gazed down to her hand still glowing pink, now cracking more in age as it was hitting its toll. Oh…how she hoped Feliciano had found something…that he could come be their savior tomorrow at the evening that was planned to arise him.

She couldn’t stand there longer…she had her place in the formation and she had to hurry to it, as everyone around her did.

Soldiers, from all over the kingdom, even others, kept a standing outside the castle, gaze focused and ready to inflict at the first spot of Destro. Many already had their weapons up, some already had magic blazing in their hands and others practiced commands. The interior of the castle was propped with all kinds of defenses, having no other choice but to have offered servants aiding in the guardship and defense. They too, had old weapons pointed, had to practice spells they never thought they would one day use and many of the household leaders were practicing their shouts in harsh war command.

Renata reached the pool, the royals and other chosen servants as well with their own positioning and weapons.

The last stance, the last wall before Feliciano, still suspended in the water, the body beginning to look cold, colors vanishing.

“Renata, you stay at the very back with your family!” Wang Yao shouted, all moving aside to give her place. It was with her husband, her son, his husband, and her little Augustino, well cradled in all their holds, scared, trembling and crying, but despite this, despite the bruises, the scars, the traumas, the three older men kept their own tightening on their weapons, knowing that if they were to go, they were to go with a try in fight. Renata found her place in the huddle, holding them all dear as if they were to say goodbye now.

“Remember to keep faith still! We have a day! We have to believe Feliciano can come tomorrow with exactly what we need!” Kandake reminded to all in a chant, yet coated in fear as they moved back, as if Destro was in the very castle finding his way between to reach right to them. It seemed like it was the actuality with this new shake the ground took. Yet no messenger came as it was meant to be planned. They still had a chance to keep their ground, together and strong.

The stances… the stances… he had to know the stances now! What if he wrote all the words somehow? What if he brought them with him? Maybe he could convince…something or someone in the third or fourth realm. Perhaps reading them all aloud, shouting, tearing, crying…it was when he noticed he was heaving and shaking to this new group that came.

“Sua Maestà,” one tried to reach and comfort.

“I have to…I have to…” his mind still went on in a reverie, stuck in the need and desperation. It was with the touch of this nearing man that he was made aware of his standing and who stood by him.

No…despite everything he had to help these people, he had to get them settled. If there was something he could do, if he was abled, he could push through, he could go on with his duty even at the worst heaviness.

“Please, all of you, follow me. You are now in a safe place. There is currently a feast that I’m sure all would love for your part in it. Come, come with me!” He hurried, keeping himself kind and offering, one all could follow, fall finally into the ease and beauty of this place, more so as they traversed these enchanting alleys, reaching the alight of the square and what it was offering. It could have been a joy, could have been the welcome that all there knew they had to give to all the new that came…but then after one, came two, came four, came six, that alley Feliciano came from bursting with a large array of people that easily soured and planted worry in all. Nevertheless, many came to offer their welcome, but also to ask, to fret, the square in the end turning to a place of worry and agitations.

“Feliciano, what’s going on?” Giulia came, demanding and shocked.

“Destro was in Italy.”

“What?!” She already settled in the hysteria of all, some who heard in the surrounding joining her as well in the disarray.

Feliciano shushed and tried to soothe her to even breathing, “we can’t let ourselves panic now. Focus on helping others calm, answer their questions to the best of your ability and help them settle like is the norm!”

She managed to find her peace, nodding, and already settling on what she considered the command of a queen. It was enough now to keep everything at bay, all distracted in the conversation to really notice how Feliciano was slowly moving away. He had some time, he had some peace and loneliness, he could head that instant, memorize all the words, find a way to write, find a way, find a way- what was supposed to be his leap was cut by the large presence of an angel.

“Oh! You’re here! Good! These people need a lot of help to settle. Please, more angels must come and-”

“I’m not here for them.”

Feliciano dropped.

“You shouldn’t worry, my brethren will come to do their part, but my own…is to take you to the next step. Please…come with me.”

And like this his time was cut short…he was to say goodbye, he was supposed to go to the last steps of this process and yet he felt empty, incapable to face the reserve, still with questions and wonderings on how exactly he could obtain this. For a moment he wondered on fighting. He still possessed power, he was an Ace, Augusta’s chosen, he could… he stared to the potence of this angel, tall, shinning, armored and with a spear that could well stand at any fight. These angels were chosen to keep well a balance in death that Feliciano knew, by nature, he had to head to…as his grandmother created. With a nod, trying to calm whatever anguishes boiled in him, he decided to follow.

As all others, Feliciano was brought to one of the many alleys, moving on and on in its depths like this was but any other stroll he had taken to think of words for stances. The angel at one point moved behind him, and Feliciano, still confused by where he should go, settled on only moving forward unless the angel spoke a word. On and on everything moved around him, but no difference, no portal, no transport to the next realm.

“The third realm is only a hall, shaped by the magic that lays between all worlds. Once there, you should focus on only moving ahead, no matter what occurs around you.”

“What…what happens?” Feliciano thought he could ask.

“You transform. You take an image granted by the Aces, for what is to be your spirit and soul in the heavens. It is granted in attacks that might seem like they are to hurt you, but they are indeed only changing you. Do not worry, no matter how harsh or intimidating it seems, it is not meant to cause any harm.” Silence befell, still the same walls and canal at his side. “Your only there a matter of minutes, alone, and on your own you find the entrance into the fourth realm.”

“How long am I there then?”

“It is different for everybody. In your case, I assume not long, perhaps only a day or even a couple of hours. If you are meant to return to the living world…you can’t pass the gates to the heavens. If you do, the connection to your body is severed and you can never return.”

The street began to get as grim as the words, Feliciano shivering.

The angel’s step suddenly halted, Feliciano’s own stopping in question. The angel then pointed to the canal, which began to ripple and produce an image downward. It darkened, away from the aquamarine waters Feliciano had gotten to know in his stay. It was a tunnel, under the water with a pathway that Feliciano didn’t know if he could walk upon. The angel motioned for him to step forward, commanding and defending so he wouldn’t try any escape. Feliciano was obedient, nodding and beginning a hesitant step into the canal, his feet sinking into the water, but not as deep as shown.

The ground came to him like a ramp, leading him deeper into this darkened tunnel that slowly enveloped him unto the next stage.

#Feliciano and the king of hearts #fatkoh #f&tkoh #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic

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snowstcrm · 5 years

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LONG MAY SHE REIGN - 02

Summary: Daenerys had always set her eyes on the Iron Throne when she had been destined for something far greater from the start. With a second chance at life, the Targaryen queen decides to abandon Westeros and sets her focus on the origins of her ancestors. She woke dragons from stone and would raise an empire from ancient ruins.

Chapter warnings: uncomfortable religious ramblings

01 - 02 - 03

--> link to ao3

The free city of Volantis looked beautiful from above with the sun beginning to set, far different from the cities in Westeros and much more familiar with what she had known her entire life. The air was hot and humid which was such a stark contrast to the cold, dry climate she had experienced during her weeks in the north. She breathed it in, her lungs coming alive and for the first time in many weeks she was able to truly feel an ounce of happiness. Daenerys couldn’t even be bothered with the sweat that was building up beneath the furs she wore, though she also couldn’t wait to adorn lighter clothing. It was something she had taken for granted before leaving Essos. She missed the heat now.

She circled above the massive city harbour, already hearing the distant yells and shouts from sailors below. Daenerys needed to gather her strength and make the Volantenes, especially the nobles, know who she was and know that their time was limited. She did not forget that Volantis was one of the conspirators that supported the Sons of Harpy, nor did she forget that there are five slaves for every free man in the city. While she may have many supporters in the form of religious servants and the enslaved, the powerful masters in this city would want her dead-- just like Meereen. Just like everywhere else.

The masters would be dealt with in due process, however for the time being she was in search of the temple of R’hllor. Though she wasn’t too familiar with the religion itself, years ago she had read and knew of its roots in Volantis when she studied the history of the city.

Drogon roared before swooping lower, flying across the city to announce Daenerys’ presence in a display of power. As she approached the east end, a massive wall of dragonglass stood in her way as a means to protect the oldest part of Volantis, though it didn’t serve as much of a barrier when Drogon shot upwards and over to the other side.

A temple that rivalled the size of the Meereenese pyramids came into view, massive pillars and domes and buttresses displaying incredible design. At the tip of the temple was a large fire burning with ferocity, making it obvious to whom this site was dedicated to. There was a crowd of thousands gathered at the front of the building and she heard the screams mixing with shouts of awe as she landed Drogon on the steps leading up to the temple. Her eyes scanned the crowd, watching as even those that had been frightened began yelling and cheering in the city’s Valyrian dialect. This was… a surprising yet reassuring reaction. A reminder. Westeros may not want or need her, but there were many that were desperate for a change in their circumstances. Remember your roots. Remember why you always did what you did. When she was a child she had been yearning for a change, to be freed from her chains, and she had wanted to give that freedom to everyone else that sought it too.

“Volantene!” A voice shouted above the rest and Daenerys looked over her shoulder towards a man standing at the top of the steps, his face covered in tattooed flames. He must have been preaching before her arrival. “The Lord has finally led Azor Ahai reborn to us! Daenerys Stormborn, the champion!” Flames leapt from his fingers as he roared, and she was almost taken aback by his display of magic. “Her fire will be the one to drive the darkness out of this world!”

Cheers and yells were certainly not the way she had been expecting to be welcomed, but it was something that she needed though she dare not admit it. This was what it had always been about. She wanted to give people hope. She wanted to help. It had been an earnest and good desire before it became twisted by grief.

The evening had turned into night by the time Daenerys said her farewells to the Volantenes gathered outside and followed the high priest through the large temple doors for a more private conversation. As they entered her eyes were greeted with massive pits and golden stands, the orange light of their fires danced across looming statues and illuminated ancient artwork on the walls.

She almost got lost in looking at the interior of the temple, but she finally looked at the man and said, “Your name was Benerro correct?” She spoke in High Valyrian and noticed that the priest could alternate between the local dialect and the old form when needed.

“It is, your Grace.” The tall, spindly man had an almost off-putting presence, his appearance gaunt. “I am a high priest of R’hllor. I first saw your visage in the flames many moons ago. You are his chosen champion, the one that will push back the darkness.”

“The darkness was defeated-- I thought it was, at least. But I saw… things. Visions. I don’t know what to think of this talk anymore.” She replied, brows furrowing as she glanced over at a large fire contained in a metal pit in the center of the open hall. “Your god brought me back to rebuild Valyria, to have magic and dragons return to the forefront of the world-- or so I was told by the priestess Kinvara. I know that I can do it, but I’m not sure that I should. If it’s right. If I’m the one that should do it.”

He walked over to the burning fire she had been starting at, watching the flames as if gathering information while he spoke, "You were travelling down a path that might destroy the world, but you were also the one who helped saved it. You may think yourself a monster, but the world isn’t changed through soft-spoken words and caresses. That is the reality, and many innocents are unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We already knew that non-believers would be cleansed by the thousands.”

She felt the sting of tears threatening to fall from her eyes but she willed them not to. How could he be so indifferent? Is this how she had sounded to Jon? “It was wrong.” Her voice had a slight shake, “What I did.”

“It is also reality.” He repeated the sentiment. “You cleansed the land of its immorality just as the mountains cleansed Old Valyria. Though I believe it was already written in stone, I see that it eats away at your spirit and I pray that you find peace with it. My words may seem insensitive to you but I simply see things as small parts of a grander destiny for us all. What you did brought you here, and that’s all that matters.” There was a change in his tone when he finally said, “There will always be creatures that lurk in the darkness. Fire made flesh is the only thing that can keep them at bay. That’s why you are alive today."

A silence hung over them as Daenerys stared at the side of his face. For a moment she could understand why Jon chose to do what he did, and the thought crushed her already scarred heart. She could not bring herself to trust this man, but he was her best ally for the time being. Her face solidified, void of vulnerability as she replied, "If I am to rebuild Valyria I will need many hands."

"The servants of the Lord of Light will support your cause, as will a large portion of the slaves in Volantis if given the option. They've been waiting to see you in the flesh for years. Stories of your liberating have travelled across the Free Cities and the triarchs of Volantis have been fearing their fall ever since. They’ve even tried to destroy the temple because we preach in support of you." He spoke with almost a scoff.

Her focus stayed on the flames, beginning to see visions in them. Vague images of mountains crumbling and falling away, fire raining from the skies, and clear waters becoming dark and smoking. "I cannot promise a peaceful life here in Volantis if they revolt and kill their masters. Revolution always threatens destabilization. I learned it in Meereen and the other cities. What I can promise though, is that every slave of this city has a home in Valyria if they so desire it. Whoever kills their master can find sanctuary under the dragon and never be harmed again. The hands that build Valyria will be those of free men."

He watched her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. It was almost a look of relief, as if he had been waiting for this moment for ages. “The triarchs of Volantis will fall. Every night I’ve preached to thousands that have been burning for a change but have held back over the fear of being left stranded once on the other side. You’ve given them a choice now, and many will take it. His fire will cleanse this city like it did the others.”

She finally turned away from the flames, looking over at Benerro, “There’s a problem though isn’t there. Are the servants of this temple not bought as slaves or taken in as offerings? I don’t understand why you so strongly support my cause when your temple ranks will fall apart as well.”

"They are. As am I.” He gave a small gesture to the tattoos covering his face. “There were many that were bought to serve the temple, and many that willingly came and sought refuge in these walls. Our temple does not condone slavery, but we have had to speak the language that the city and its people understand. We’ve bought many servants, but they are not slaves to any living man. The lord’s servants have all been waiting for the chance to overthrow the triarchs. If any of the high priests were slave masters we would have never supported you."

Daenerys had always been uncompromising with slavery so she could not fathom his approach. There were thousands in this city that loved and believed in this man though, so perhaps she could be willing to understand his methods. Not everyone had dragons or an army large enough to take a city through force alone. "It doesn't matter the circumstances. Every single man, woman, and child will be free in Volantis, including the temple’s servants. You will give them the option to leave their servitude and allow them to take it without any retribution."

"As his champion wishes." He chuckled. “I promise you with the lord as my witness. I am on your side. Volantis will join the Bay of Dragons and adopt its policies.”

For now she could only trust in his word. She still held a healthy skepticism for the man, but he also gave her enough reason to believe in his motivations. She nodded in understanding before reaching her hand out, offering it to seal their alliance, “May it be done with fire and blood if necessary.”

He nodded, his hand meeting hers halfway, “Fire and blood.”

She was offered a place to rest in the temple that night but opted to stay with Drogon outside of the city. She changed into clothes that were offered to her however, ridding herself of the winter furs unfitting for Essos while keeping her ever present riding pants and boots. Before leaving the temple she had put on a deep red gown with billowing sleeves, cuts in the thighs, and a deep scoop neck. A large sash of the same colour was wrapped from her waist up to her shoulders and served as a head-covering.

Valyria was not too far off from here and she was already preparing herself for the task ahead of her. Like many others she had heard awful stories of what lurked in the ruins of Valyria. She heard of living shadows, strange creatures, bubbling waters, red skies, and stone men. Everything was telling her that the land would be revived and built anew-- the priests, the flames-- so she had the confidence that it would come to pass. It was just a matter of how… Was the heart of winter that Kinvara spoke of enough? Would the red priests and priestesses be enough to clean and control whatever magic that had been free to roam the abandoned ruins? She could only keep pushing forward and then deal with any barriers in her way once she reached them.

The rebirth of dragons… She dreamed wistfully. There was nothing that could every replace Viserion and Rhaegal, but to bring new dragons into the world… Whenever she thought of it her heart was set ablaze with bright fires. They called to her blood.

Benerro wasted no time in implementing his plan. He sent hundreds of servants out into the night to send whispers across the city, letting them know that Daenerys Stormborn that had conquered and freed the Bay of Dragons from its masters has come for the triarchs of Volantis next with the words of fire and blood. By early morning the streets were red and fires were set to ancient buildings belonging to the Old Blood. The Fiery Hand of the temple took up arms against any city guards that opposed the rebellion and were joined by men wielding knives, stones, and anything else they could get their hands on. The swarm was unstoppable and Daenerys could only watch from her vantage point in silent wonderment. The city had been a massive pyre, unlit and waiting. All that was needed was a spark that would set it blazing. The black shadow that had flown over the city the day prior was the people’s hope and the death omen of any unyielding masters.

The smoke had created a small overcast by midday. Daenerys drifted out of her light sleep and took the sight in. The majority of the city was left untouched, but most, if not all the larger buildings had been burned down and their ashes covered everything around them in white. It was perhaps the first time any of the citizens had seen anything akin to snow. Queen of the Ashes, Daenerys scorned. If I will be remembered as Queen of the Ashes, then let it be like this.

She stood up and mounted Drogon, flying down over the city and circling it as liberated men cheered at the triumphant roars of the dragon. During her flight she noticed that the temple had been left standing as one of the only ancient buildings unscathed by the rebellion. She circled the city twice to commemorate the people’s victory before heading towards the bay and off towards Valyria.

Come. Build a new world with me. Join me if you wish.

#long may she reign #my writing #my posts #userfaith #daenerys targaryen #game of thrones

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sammyspreadyourwings · 5 years

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Yes yes yes yes yes yes I am very interested in all the lore !!!!!! Publish it pretty please. And thank u again for gracing my Monday with your talent

Okay, so I know I said I have it, and I do, but it’s currently being transcribed from the Hell that is what I call Worldbuilding (and I mean when I’m writing everything because rarely do I get to put it on nice word documents with proper titles, it’s comments and sticky notes and random graphs and outlines)

But what I do have is the Gods

The Gods (aka do we really have to pray to these guys)

Alvors – southern nations main god. Domains: war, law, water. Patron: Kings & Queens, Sailors.

Celara – northern nations main goddess. Domains: love, music, stars. Patron: Musicians, Travelers

Isoi – eastern nations main goddess. Domains: luck, knowledge, healing. Patron: Doctors, Scholars.

Nunos* – western nations main god. Domains: animals, death, magic. Patron: Soldiers, Anarchists

Now to the BRIEF and INCOMPLETE story of the Gods

(humans get their own history section but the Divide forms about 500 years before the Soundless Age)

//Adapted from the book of Eos, Scribe of Celara

At the beginning of the world, there was Energy and there was nothing.

Then there was everything. From this everything, chaos erupted. Energy form the opposite to chaos, law and gave it a form. And thus Alvors was born, meant to reign in the chaos that Energy may give life to the world. Alvors was Law. But Law became cruel and lonely.

And so Celara was born. She was Love. Love and Law become entwined. As a gift to his beloved Alvors used a boon from Energy to create the stars. She sat upon a starry throne in heaven. To return him a gift of equal value she created the oceans to follow the tide of the moon.

Alvors sat on a throne under the sea. He rarely left there. The silence of the empty world, for Energy, has yet to breathe life into the world, cause Celara to weep. So She started to sing, to fill the silence of the world and she created the First Song.

Then she gave her husband a great gift, the news that their first child will be born. Nunos inspired Energy to create the first animals and was gifted a dog to be his companion. Energy was weakened and placed the last of it’s essence to Nunos.

Nunos was strong. Strength greater than even his father. Alvors grew weary of his son.

Celara kept the birth of their daughter private, only by luck because Alvors returned to the sea the day she was born. Isoi grew up learning everything from her mother, and how to keep hidden from her father.

Nunos also learned. He was perhaps stronger than Alvors and thus challenged him to the Right of Rule. But Alvors had taken advantage of the tiny humans.

Nunos waged war on the humans with his beasts and dragons and horrors. Alvors urged the humans on, smarter and braver than the Beast King’s army.

Alvors emerged God of War, grieving for having killed his son. Changed.

Nunos lay defeated. The first God killed. Isoi, mourning her brother’s death weaved what little Energy was left and sealed his wounds and restarted his heart. But he was banished to the Land Beyond because the Dead Should Not Walk Again.

This is the day Alvors learned of his daughter. He struck her in a fit of rage, scaring her cheek. Celara stepped in horrified at what her husband had become. She demanded that Alvors change his ways or she will never return to him.

He refused and attacked her.

To preserve herself and her daughter, Celara raised the Divide and hid away Isoi. Thus Luck becomes a fickle thing.

The south falls to Alvors sway and Celara takes the north.

The west remains unexplored for fear of Nunos has done and the east hidden by Celara’s whim.

#Banned Music AU #Lore #I love Nunos #he's such a bastard man #Isoi Shouldn't Have To Deal With This #Celara deserved better but she also fucked up once or twice #there's a who mythos dedicated to that #and several thousand years of being the only living thing Fucks You Up #Alvors still Fucked Up though #Anonymous #asks

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wanderingmoonsword · 5 years

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Stygian Leviathan

Cursed and foul, the River Styx’s waters are nonetheless home to life. Fedcund, terrible life. Where the River Styx grows sluggish and pools dark and deep in its eternal course through the Lower Planes, monsters stir in the depths. The greatest of their number are the Stygian leviathans. These whales are far more massive than even the largest mundane whales, and rather than the largely peaceful filter-feeding giants, they touch upon the most terrible predators to arise from their ranks. The description and monstrous bite certainly fit the modern sperm whale, while the art seems to draw inspiration from the baleen whales, with the barbels of a catfish thrown in for good measure, but there’s no reason these monsters can’t resemble the ferocious Basilosaurus, with its serpentine appearance, or have the square-headed appearance of a sperm whale.

In any case, Stygian leviathans have a truly monstrous bite, capable of tearing many lesser beasts in half with a single snap of the jaw, and can swallow foes whole, afflicting them with the terrible powers of the River Styx even as they’re bathed in acid and compressed by the great whale’s stomach. These beasts have a frightening power to capsize smaller vessels as well, spilling the occupants into the water. When you have beasts like these, the idea of building a skiff golem starts making more sense, doesn’t it? Stygiant leviathans don’t always stay in the Styx, either – these terrible whales sometimes emerge onto other planes, and they take the wickedness of the dismal depths they were born to with them. Wherever they may roam, Stygian leviathans are majestic, dangerous creatures, although fiends will hunt them as food or to fashion weapons from their teeth, and I can imagine many uses might be found for the strange organs, humors, and flesh of these extraplanar beasts if one was successfully harvested by mortals.

Hoping to appease the pirate prince Kingston Dante, the upstart monarch whose connections and influence earned him undisputed reign over Red Water Isle and a looser, more uncertain hold over the rest of the Magarien Islands, a group of freelance buccaneers have little choice to but join in one of Kingston’s most dangerous undertakings. Hoping to end a threat, win renown, and profit at the same time, the Red Water Prince has commanded that a Stygian leviathan preying on freebooters and legitimate merchantmen alike be hunted down and its carcass hauled back his port. A cetus is eager for revenge after a humiliating encounter but the dragon is too canny – and too thoroughly cowed – to cross fang and claw with the massive whale once more V

Vengeful and maddened by the foul waters that have long since corrupted it, a frightful leviathan rises from the deep on the night of every lunar eclipse, hunting any ship that dares the Kalanvar Sea on such a ruddy night. Sailors claim the leviathan is the mate or spawn of a monstrous, serpentine whale found at Black Sand Cove with hideous sucker marks all over it, sinking ships to sate a bloodlust and lure a kraken to the surface to have its revenge on the kraken responsible for the other serpentine terror’s demise.

Rumors of a cannibal cult have gone up and down the coast but until a group of adventurers fought off a small band of them wielding swords and axes made out of strange, alien teeth, they were believed to be nothing more than a story. As the attacks continue and bloodshed mounts, sightings pour in of something dark and terrible in the waters offshore, pointing to the troubled waters of Skeleton Bay, named for a monstrous whale whose skeleton was found there centuries ago. Now the massive leviathan begins to stir once more, feeding on blood and violence, and first a bakekujira breaches in Skeleton Bay on the night of the full moon, then it becomes increasingly fleshy if not stopped, the cultists starting to echo its unearthly song as their final rituals restore the Stygian monster to full, fleshy power to express its rage against the living.

- Tome of Horrors Complete 576

Speaking of bakekujira, if you think the Stygian levithan could use a few more tricks, the leviathan’s call and resonant song powers are great things to add.

#pathfinder #D&D #dungeons and dragons #dungeons & dragons #frog god games #tome of horrors #magical beast #aquatic

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zponds · 2 months

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(Credit goes to JWBtheUncanny on Deviantart)

Bubble-Maidens 1

Now I know what some of you are thinking, I have something of a strange obsession for Girls a Bubbloids, But For Reign of Water a Storyline for 2020 as the thrid Sequel to the so called God Trilogy started with All Stars Memories, I decided to do something Different with the Idea to make it more original, In the Reign of Water Timeline Sailor Moon's side of the Story, The Queen of the Ocean's actions also affected even the Cardcaptors HomeTown, She may have took and Modified Tomoyo's Bubblfication Serum and used it on the People of Tomoeda, Making them as close to Human, but to to the Mermaid the way they represent a Girls Soul. So With the Queen of the Oceans blessing, The Bubble-Maidens became a Race of there own, However like on the Main-Timeline, Tomoyo's Serum doesn't work on Human Males nor any other Non-Human, Only Girls (Not Trying to Be Sexist here)

These are some Recognizable faces here, The First is Nadeshiko Kinomoto the mother of Cardcaptor Sakura, In the main-Timeline She Died when Sakura was Three, But it was unknown how she died, In the Mermaid-Timeline, It seems the Bubblfication Serum Saved her life from what ever was gonna kill her, And it might has Transmitted to Sakura She is the head-Woman of the Town, And is part of the Ocean-Queens Court, The next is Sonomi Daidouji the mother of Tomoyo Daidouji, She plays as Nadeshio's Adviser in the Mermaid-Timeline, Maki Matsumotoin this is one of the Bubble-Maidens that serve the Headwoman of the Town.

#sailor moon #sailor moon fanfiction #bubble #bubble maidens #bubble maids #cardcaptor sakura #sonomi daidouji #maki matsumoto #reign of water #reign of water a sailor moon story

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moderncolors · 5 years

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The Ultimate List of Alternative Baby Names { bohemian, hippie, offbeat, fantasy, goth baby names} So you've got a wee one on the way and you're looking for a name as unique as your new baby is going to be, am I right? Well, check out this great list of offbeat names for I've created just for creative moms and dads-to-be like you. A lot of these names are form lists I made when thinking of names for my two tots and some inspired by my favorite celebrity kid names and some are from the top of my head. Yes, some of these names are "out there" and I've gotten a lot of hateful comments about this post (that's why comments are disabled) but what do you expect from a post called THE ULTIMATE LIST OF ALTERNATIVE BABY NAMES? If you like the names. Awesome! If you don't, that's cool too. To each his own! NOTE: I didn't separate the names by gender as many of these can work for both boys and girls! 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trinuviel · 6 years

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When the Land is Cursed - Catastrophe and Magical Pollution in “A Song of Ice and Fire”. Part 1: Valyria

One of the really pleasureable aspects of George R.R. Martin’s epic fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire is the rich world-building that infuses his story. GRRM’s story is typical of what Tolkien called a secondary world fantasy, which refers to a consistent, fictionary world that is in contrast to reality (x). His books contain a myriad of “historical” details that give the story an immersive depth. The recent companion book The World of Ice and Fire elaborates on this fictional world and is a must for any fan of the series. The companion book allowed for an elaboration of his fictional world as there are many aspects that he hasn’t found room for in the novels.

However, there is one piece of history that often is mentioned in the novels but that isn’t really elaborated on - yet. I am speaking of the Valyrian Freehold, or more specifically its Doom. Martin has promised that the exact cause of the Doom will be revealed in future novels but the companion book offers a number of interesting details.

The Doom of Valyria plays upon a popular trope: that of a fabled (often advanced) civilization that is destroyed through a cataclysm, often brought on by human decadence or hubris.

A story setting or legendary place doesn't necessarily have to be Atlantis per se to tap into the myth fabric, but it can be any sort of lost civilization that had great achievements and then were mysteriously lost. (TVTropes)

It has its roots in the myth of Atlantis but there are countless variations, such as Mu, Lemuria and Númenor, which is Tolkien’s version of the Atlantis myth. The Doom of Valyria is, in many respects, Martin’s version of this pervasive myth - one that may turn out to have a narrative importance for the his main story.

There’s one aspect that I find particularly fascinating about the Doom. While the exact cause of the Doom is unknown, the sad remains of the Valyrian peninsula appears to have become a place that is haunted, a dangerous place where travellers are lost and where the land is permanently blighted.

It seems as though the land itself is cursed. Therefore, I think it could be interesting to frame the Doom of Valyria and its effects in terms of a magical pollution of the land itself.

THE VALYRIAN FREEHOLD

One of the things that is so interesting about the Valyrian Freehold is that it was the home of the dragonlords; a people of almost inhuman beauty that had managed to tame and weaponize dragons. According to the companion book, Valyria rose to prominence after the Long Night and its origins is somewhat mysterious - as is the origins of the dragons. The Valyrians used their dragons to conquer much of Essos but the centre of their culture was the city of Valyria that was situated on the Valyrian peninsula among the volcanoes called the Fourteen Flames.

At its apex Valyria was the greatest city in the known world, the center of civilization. Within its shining walls, twoscore rival houses vied for power and glory in court and council, rising and falling in an endless, subtle, oft savage struggle for dominance. (AWoIaF, The Reign of the Dragons: The Conquest)

Like all the lost civilizations of the Atlantis Trope, Valyria was not only a great power but also an incredible city of beautiful architecture as well as a centre of learning - especially when it came to the magical arts.

(Valyrian Freehold. Art by HBO)

(Valyria. Art by tommyscottart)

(Valyria. The Fourteen Flames. Art by Ted Nasmith)

However, the might and wealth of Valyria was built upon slavery and conquest. The dragonlords of the Freehold laid waste to the Old Empire of Ghis and it brought destruction to the city states of the Rhoynar.

None can say how many perished, toiling in the Valyrian mines, but the number was so large as to surely defy comprehension. As Valyria grew, its need for ore increased, which led to ever more conquests to keep the mines stocked with slaves. The Valyrians expanded in all directions, stretching out east beyond the Ghiscari cities and west to the very shores of Essos, where even the Ghiscari had not made inroads. It was this first bursting forth of the new empire that was of paramount importance to Westeros and the future Seven Kingdoms. As Valyria sought to conquer more and more lands and peoples, some fled for safety, retreating before the Valyrian tide. (AWoIaF, Ancient History: Valyria’s Children)

(The Fall of Old Ghis. Art by Marc Simonetti)

The Valyrians used slaves cruelly in the mines of the Fourteen Flames, digging for precious ore:

"Burnt and blackened corpses were oft found in shafts where the rocks were cracked or full of holes. Yet still the mines drove deeper. Slaves perished by the score, but their masters did not care. Red gold and yellow gold and silver were reckoned to be more precious than the lives of slaves, for slaves were cheap in the old Freehold. During war, the Valyrians took them by the thousands. In times of peace they bred them, though only the worst were sent down to die in the red darkness." (AFfC, Arya II)

In the colony of Gogossos they even performed magical experiments on slaves, breeding women with animals to create strange creatures:

By any name, it was an evil place. The dragonlords sent their worst criminals to the Isle of Tears to live out their lives in hard labor. In the dungeons of Gogossos, torturers devised new torments. In the flesh pits, blood sorcery of the darkest sort was practiced, as beasts were mated to slave women to bring forth twisted half-human children. The infamy of Gogossos outlived even the Doom. (TWoIaF, Beyond the Free Cities: The Basilisk Isles)

The reach of the Valyrian Freehold encompassed most of Essos and extended even to distant colonies on the Basilisk Isles and the sountern continent of Sothorys. One of the effects of this empire built on the might of dragons and the blood of slaves was the migrations of the Andals and the Ten Thousand Ships of Nymeria of the Rhoynar to Westeros. The city state of Braavos was founded by escaped slaves and remained secret for centuries.

THE DOOM

Old Valyria existed for millenia - until it was destroyed in a catalysm of immense proportions. An empire was destroyed in a day by fire and by water.

Valyria. It was written that on the day of Doom every hill for five hundred miles had split asunder to fill the air with ash and smoke and fire, blazes so hot and hungry that even the dragons in the sky were engulfed and consumed. Great rents had opened in the earth, swallowing palaces, temples, entire towns. Lakes boiled or turned to acid, mountains burst, fiery fountains spewed molten rock a thousand feet into the air, red clouds rained down dragonglass and the black blood of demons, and to the north the ground splintered and collapsed and fell in on itself and an angry sea came rushing in. The proudest city in all the world was gone in an instant, its fabled empire vanished in a day, the Lands of the Long Summer scorched and drowned and blighted. An empire built on blood and fire. The Valyrians reaped the seed they had sown. (ADwD, Tyrion VIII)

The proudest city in all the world was gone in an instant, the fabled empire vanished in a day. (TWoIaF, Ancient History: The Doom of Valyria)

On the day the Doom came to Valyria, it was said, a wall of water three hundred feet high had descended on the island, drowning hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children, leaving none to tell the tale but some fisherfolk who had been at sea and a handful of Velosi spearmen posted in a stout stone tower on the island's highest hill, who had seen the hills and valleys beneath them turn into a raging sea. Fair Velos with its palaces of cedar and pink marble had vanished in a heartbeat. On the north end of the island, the ancient brick walls and stepped pyramids of the slaver port Ghozai had suffered the same fate. (ADwD, The Iron Suitor)

This description of the Doom shares some similarities with the stories of the destruction of Atlantis. Like Atlantis, Valyria was devastated by earth quakes and partially drowned by the sea - and this extraordinary civilization disapperared in a single day. However, Martin has added the the element of fire through volcanic eruption.

To this day, no one knows what caused the Doom. Most say that it was a natural cataclysm—a catastrophic explosion caused by the eruption of all Fourteen Flames together. (AWoIaF, Ancient History: The Doom of Valyria)

Like Atlantis, the Doom of Valyria is framed by the text as a result of hubris: “An empire built on blood and fire. The Valyrians reaped the seed they had sown.“ (ADwD, Tyrion VIII) - but I’ll return to that later.

CURSED LANDS = MAGICAL POLLUTION?

The Doom devastated the Valyrian Peninsula, which was rent asunder into a smattering of islands surrounded by a new sea. This body of water is called the Smoking Sea - named so because of the existence of volcanoes and smoking stacks of rock. It is even said that the waters boil in places.

“...north of Valyria the Smoking Sea is demon-haunted.” (Jorah Mormont to Daenerys Targaryen - ASoS, Daenerys I)

Every man there knew that the Doom still ruled Valyria. The very sea there boiled and smoked, and the land was overrun with demons. It was said that any sailor who so much as glimpsed the fiery mountains of Valyria rising above the waves would soon die a dreadful death... (AFfC, The Reaver)

The Smoking Sea is a dangerous place to sail and the landscape takes on a foreboding, even unnatural appearance:

Only the brightest stars were visible, all to the west. A dull red glow lit the sky to the northeast, the color of a blood bruise. Tyrion had never seen a bigger moon. Monstrous, swollen, it looked as if it had swallowed the sun and woken with a fever. Its twin, floating on the sea beyond the ship, shimmered red with every wave. "What hour is this?" he asked Moqorro. "That cannot be sunrise unless the east has moved. Why is the sky red?" "The sky is always red above Valyria, Hugor Hill. "A cold chill went down his back. "Are we close?" (ADwD, Tyrion VIII)

(The Doom of Valyria. Art by HBO)

"Storms," Ralf the Limper had muttered when he came crawling to Victarion. "Three big storms, and foul winds between. Red winds out of Valyria that smelled of ash and brimstone, and black winds that drove us toward that blighted shore. This voyage was cursed from the first. The Crow's Eye fears you, my lord, why else send you so far away? He does not mean for us to return." (ADwD, The Iron Suitor)

A red sky and red winds, accompanied by the smell of brimstone - it sounds like something of a hellscape.

There are strange stories about demons haunting the Smoking Sea. In the show, those “demons” are stone men, people afflicted with greyscale. However, that part seems to have been lifted from Tyrion’s journey on the Rhoyne in A Dance with Dragons where he encounters such stone men in the Sorrows near the ruined city of Chroyane. In fact, the show’s visualization of the ruins of Old Valyria is strangely similar to artwork depicting the Sorrows.

(In the Sorrows. Art by Marc Simonetti)

More interesting is the indication that the blight that plagues Valyria’s shores of seems to affect the few inhabited cities that are closest to the heart of Old Valyria, specifically the city of Mantarys, which lie at northern tip of the Sea of Sighs with its red waters. Though Mantarys is the closest inhabited city to Old Valyria, it is still situated quite a way away from the heart of the shattered peninsula so the blight has spread rather far.

The Freehold of Valyria and its empire were destroyed by the Doom, but the shattered peninsula remains. Strange tales are told of it today, and of the demons that haunt the Smoking Sea where the Fourteen Flames once stood. In fact, the road that joins Volantis to Slaver's Bay has become known as the "demon road," and is best avoided by all sensible travelers. And men who have dared the Smoking Sea do not return, as Volantis learned during the Century of Blood when a fleet it sent to claim the peninsula vanished. There are queer rumors of men living still among the ruins of Valyria and its neighboring cities of Oros and Tyria. Yet others dispute this, saying that the Doom still holds Valyria in its grip. A few of the cities away from the heart of Valyria remain inhabited, however—places founded by the Freehold or subject to it. The most sinister of these is Mantarys, a place where the men are said to be born twisted and monstrous; some attribute this to the city's presence on the demon road. (AWoIaF, Ancient History: The Doom of Valyria)

The stories of twisted and monstrous children sound strange but they seem to be legit as Tyrion sees a two-headed girl out of Mantarys on his travels in Essos (ADwD, Tyrion X). It sounds like Mantarys is a place where children are born deformed on a scale much larger than what is normal. It sounds eerily like the occurrence of birth defects in children born from parents that have been exposed to nuclear radiation. Interestingly enough, the Doom left the Lands of the Long Summer sterile:

The Lands of the Long Summer—once the most fertile in all the world—were scorched and drowned and blighted, and the toll in blood would not be fully realized for a century to come. (TWoIaF, Ancient History: The Doom of Valyria)

One of the most fertile parts of the world was left permanently blighted. Thus, more than 400 years after the Doom of Valyria, the Lands of the Long Summer still suffer the effects of that cataclysm - a cataclysm that has left the land permanently sterile and which leaves even distant inhabitants with severe fertility problems.

If the Doom of Valyria was just an entirely natural catastrophe then why do its effects have such serious repercussions on the health of the land and its remaining population? Volcanic eruptions do present a health hazard because of noxious gases and volcanic ash but those effects are nowhere nearly as severe as what we see in the Lands of the Long Summer in Essos - or as long-lasting. If this was an entirely natural catastrophe then why is the sky above Valyria permanently red and why are the inhabitants of nearby Mantarys effected in a way that is eerily reminiscent of nuclear fallout, even centuries later?

The effects of the Doom of Valyria are not natural and that is why I’d like to propose a theory that the Doom left the land magically polluted to a very severe degree.

THE CAUSE OF THE DOOM?

If the Doom of Valyria left the Lands of the Long Summer magically polluted, then we should ask what caused the Doom itself and if magic played a part in it.

To this day, no one knows what caused the Doom. Most say that it was a natural cataclysm—a catastrophic explosion caused by the eruption of all Fourteen Flames together. Some septons, less wise, claim that the Valyrians brought the disaster on themselves for their promiscuous belief in a hundred gods and more, and in their godlessness they delved too deep and unleashed the fires of the Seven hells on the Freehold. A handful of maesters, influenced by fragments of the work of Septon Barth, hold that Valyria had used spells to tame the Fourteen Flames for thousands of years, that their ceaseless hunger for slaves and wealth was as much to sustain these spells as to expand their power, and that when at last those spells faltered, the cataclysm became inevitable. [...] Some, wedding the fanciful notion of Valyrian magic to the reality of the ambitious great houses of Valyria, have argued that it was the constant whirl of conflict and deception amongst the great houses that might have led to the assassinations of too many of the reputed mages who renewed and maintained the rituals that banked the fires of the Fourteen Flames. (AWoIaF, Ancient History: The Doom of Valyria)

I have argued elsewhere that there are Doylist reasons for thinking that Septon Barth was correct in many of his theories about magical interference in the natural world. Furthermore, the fact that Sam Tarly has in his possession a copy of Barth’s work is a Chekov’s Gun that is just waiting to go off.

Is it possible that magic was involved in the Doom? I’d say that there’s a distinct possibility that this was indeed the case. The Valyrians had a tendency to mess with nature as we have seen with their experiments in magical cross-breeding in Gogossos. They also worked stone with magic:

Davos had often heard it said that the wizards of Valyria did not cut and chisel as common masons did, but worked stone with fire and magic as a potter might work clay. But now he wondered. (ASoS, Davos V)

This lends a certain credence to the theory that the Valyrians used magic to work the volcanoes that eventually erupted.

"Most mines are dank and chilly places, cut from cold dead stone, but the Fourteen Flames were living mountains with veins of molten rock and hearts of fire. So the mines of old Valyria were always hot, and they grew hotter as the shafts were driven deeper, ever deeper. The slaves toiled in an oven. The rocks around them were too hot to touch. The air stank of brimstone and would sear their lungs as they breathed it. The soles of their feet would burn and blister, even through the thickest sandals. Sometimes, when they broke through a wall in search of gold, they would find steam instead, or boiling water, or molten rock. Certain shafts were cut so low that the slaves could not stand upright, but had to crawl or bend. And there were wyrms in that red darkness too." (AFfC, Arya II)

How do you work a mine in an active volcano? That doesn’t really sound like a feasible project - unless you can use magic to control flame and stone, and if you’re ruthless and heartless enough to spend human lives indiscriminately, which is exactly what the Valyrians did.

I’ve mentioned earlier that the text frames the Doom as a result of hubris. Greed and magical meddling with nature did the Valyrians in. They were arrogant in their overconfidence because you mess with nature at your own peril.

(GIFs and edits not mine)

#asoaif #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones #meta #valyria #the doom of valyria #magical pollution

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snidgetsafan · 6 years

Text

The Curse of the Black Roger: Chapter 4

Rating: T

Summary:

“You should start believing in ghost stories, Miss Swan – because you’re in one.”

When young Princess Emma found a pirate necklace on the baby rescued from the sea, she never expected years later to be swept into an adventure worthy of her favorite novels.

And she certainly never expected someone like the legendary Captain Hook.A

“Pirates of the Carribean” AU

Notes: Here is my offering for the CSSNS! Thanks to @amorecolorfulmoniker, whose pic set inspired this fic. Thanks to my betas, @gingerchangeling and @shireness-says who acted as a sounding board, a crying shoulder and grammar enforcers where needed. Thanks also to @slow-smiles, who created amazing art for this fic! (Go and see it after you finish reading, as numbers 7 and 8 are taken from this chapter) And thank you to @wingedlioness for making the amazing header!

On AO3.

Previous chapters: Prologue, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3

The trek towards the dungeons had gone disappointingly effortlessly, the two pirates taking advantage of the reigning chaos to sneak their captive out without anyone noticing. They had exited through the very same hole that had seen blown in the outer wall from her balcony what felt like ages ago, but must have been an hour at most. As the smaller pirate had clambered down to the water’s level, weirdly muttering into his coat collar, she had surreptitiously looked up in the direction of her balcony, trying to see if Henry was looking down.

However, the night had been too dark for the princess to see anything, the moon hidden behind a thick cover of clouds and the only light coming from the blazing harbor. From across the water, the towering flames had cast dismal shadows onto the walls, looking like skeletal hands trying to reach for the castle’s inhabitants. Emma frowned. She could barely discern the shape of her balcony in the flickering light; how had the big pirate – McCullough, was it? – managed to see her with no light at all? He must have quite the sharp vision, as well as the strength of an ox, as evidenced by his iron grip on her upper arm.

A dull thud on the rocks just below her interrupted the princess’ musings. Emma looked down sharply. A dinghy, which had definitely not been here before, was floating quietly in the water, waiting patiently for its passengers. Where had it come from? Where was the person who had rowed it there? Had it been towed while she had been distracted?

A little push from McCullough, who had stayed silently at her side up until then, propelled her forward, though it was with reluctance and a lot of caution that Emma started climbing down the wet rocks. She wished she had been wearing more practical footwear, her slippers not affording her much grip on the slick surface. Just before reaching the boat, her foot slipped from underneath her, making her fall forward. Before she hit the ground, a strong arm caught her by the waist, lifting her back on her feet before instantly releasing her. Turning her head, expecting McCullough, Emma saw the pirate whose name she did not know staring at her, his eyes glinting in the feeble light.

“Careful, lovely, wouldn’t want you to take a dip again before you see the captain, eh?”

Emma huffed, turning her head away, before freezing in dismay. What did he mean, “again”? How did he know –

“In we go, then.”

The princess startled, not having heard McCullough come behind her. Taking a hold of her elbow, he helped her step into the rowboat and sit on the middle bench. He then sat behind her, while the other pirate settled in front of her, kicking the floor of the boat twice. Before she could react, the boat jerked as it began to advance, apparently of its own volition. Emma startled, looking around her. What kind of sorcery was this?

The pirate facing her was apparently amused by her surprise, judging by his low rumbling laugh. A chuckle from behind her told her his companion shared his amusement, and Emma shifted uncomfortably, turning her head away to hide the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

Looking everywhere but at her captors as the boat slowly advanced, her eyes were naturally attracted by the only source of light around her, the burning harbor. She saw with horror that most of the docked ships were on fire, and that some of the jetties were starting to burn as well. Men, women, and children were running everywhere, trying to quench the fires and, in some cases, throwing barrels in the water. Emma stared in bafflement, until she understood. The powder kegs. They were throwing the powder kegs in the water to avoid an explosion. Misthaven was effectively disarming itself, right in front of her eyes.

Looking to the left end of the harbor, she watched as a large group of people swarmed around a cluster of three ships. While the two ships on the sides were burning, fire licking up their masts, the one in the middle seemed intact, its deck crowded by a dozen men. The fire was so bright the scene was illuminated as if it were day. Emma saw some men releasing ( unfurling , her brain provided) the sails, others throwing kegs in the water, while yet another was bent over the helm, trying to turn it with no apparent success. He let go, kicking it in anger, before hurrying to the stern, looking overboard at the rudder.

As he straightened, his eyes fell on the little dinghy, zeroing in on Emma. Even from this distance, she could see his head cocking curiously as he narrowed his eyes. Hope flared within her chest. Would he give the alert? She was not that far from the harbor, and, despite what this morning’s mishap could let people think, Misthaven’s princess was a good swimmer. Henry was safe in the castle, and surely the two pirates would not try to swim after her and risk detection. If she managed to take them by surprise, she had a chance to escape.

However, before she could signal anything to the sailor, screams tore his attention – and hers – away, as they both saw with horror that the mast of the ship on the left was slowly tilting, its base eaten by the fire, and falling right onto the immobilized ship. The men on deck scrambled towards safety, either running down the gangplank if they were close enough or heading towards the stern or the bow and diving overboard, preferring the frigid embrace of the harbor’s water to a fiery death.

Emma turned away, looking at her feet as she felt tears pricking her eyes while the rowboat inexorably continued on. She couldn’t stand to see her father’s navy, his pride and joy, being burnt to ashes and her subjects harmed. Thinking about her father, she couldn’t help but worry about her family’s safety. Was her Papa okay? Was David fighting for his life at that exact moment? Was Henry still hidden safely on her balcony?

Emma raised her head when she heard the pirate in front of her shifting. Meeting his gaze, she saw that they had turned, as his face was illuminated by the fires that were now behind her. She had expected to see some kind of derision or contempt on his face, but to her surprise all she saw was a neutral expression. Considering his previous behavior, Emma was surprised he didn’t take the opportunity to mock her. He must still be angry at her for the bed warmer, and he must still be in severe pain. However, as she looked at his face, she saw that the burns were not that severe, his skin red only as if he had been sunburnt with no blisters in sight. The princess could have sworn his injuries were more serious in her bedroom. Must have been a trick of the light.

Her gaze shifted behind her captor as she saw a huge black shape starting to loom over them, getting larger and higher as the rowboat headed straight for it. Gasping, Emma realized it was a ship. How had she not seen it before? It was in full view of her windows, as well as of the harbor, floating near the center of the bay. Studying it more closely, Emma saw that it was completely black from top to bottom. Rather than reflect the feeble light coming from the harbor’s fire, it seemed to absorb it. Strangely, it made her think of her medallion.

Emma stiffened. She was wearing a pirate medallion. Under the pretense of fiddling with her dressing gown, she glanced down, and saw that the pendant had again slipped from underneath her nightgown, and that it was now resting in plain sight over her cleavage. Emma’s heart sped up. When had it slipped out? Had the pirates seen it? With the way the smaller one had been looking at her chest earlier, there was no way he hadn't spotted it. Was that what he had been looking at?

Emma’s mind swirled, fear taking a hold of her. She was going on a pirate ship with a pirate medallion. What had she gotten herself into?

Not for the first time in the last hour, Emma felt as if she had gotten in over her head. She was walking – well, floating – right into the lion’s den, and no one except Henry knew where she had gone. The princess knew there were rules, that the pirates had a code they respected. Emma had read all about it when she was little, even memorizing by heart the version of the Code she had found in a tome entitled The Habits and Customes of Pyrates : people asking for parley were under the protection of the captain whose ship they were on or traveling to. If harm befell those who had invoked parley, the captain and his crew became pariahs, and were hunted by the whole pirate community.

But what if this particular captain did not respect the Code? He had small incentive to do so as she was not a pirate, and, as far as he knew, no one knew where she was. In her panic to protect Henry, she had not thought the consequences of her actions through. She could hear her preceptor’s voice in her mind, telling her to weigh her actions before doing anything, that a princess’ deeds had more consequences than she could wrap her teenage head around. What would he think of her now? Here she was, in a rowboat, in the middle of the night, and in the company of pirates. She could hear his exasperated sigh as if he were sitting next to her, and see the way he would pinch the bridge of his nose before looking to the skies, as if asking for some celestial help. Yes, it was definitely better for Emma’s self-esteem that the preceptor had had to leave the kingdom in a hurry a couple of years before, and as such was not a witness to this debacle.

As she had been wondering over her own rashness, the rowboat had smoothly come to rest against the hull of the black ship, softly knocking against it. McCullough – who had been so quiet Emma had almost forgotten about him – stood up and grabbed a rope ladder that was hanging down to the water. With a jerk of his head, he indicated Emma should stand up and start climbing. Apprehension filled her heart as she looked up at the towering ship. How was she supposed to go up this ladder in the dark, and in her nightgown and slippers? She was going to fall to her death in the water below for the second time that day, and this time she doubted someone would come save her.

“Take off your slippers, you’ll be less likely to fall that way,” the smaller pirate spoke up gruffly, getting up as well and making the boat rock slightly. “Don’t look down, and I’ll be right behind you. Nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded with a smirk.

Emma looked at him skeptically, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Yes, I’m sure you have my best interests at heart,” she told him in a curt tone.

The princess nevertheless followed his advice and took off her slippers. McCullough took them from her, his large hand dwarfing the footwear, and put her delicate leather and satin shoes in one of his coat pockets. Emma wobbled towards the ladder before latching onto it with both hands when the boat lurched unexpectedly. Steadying herself, she took advantage of the fact she was turned away from the two pirates to put the medallion back in her nightgown, making sure to shove it down so it wouldn’t come out again. Once she was satisfied with her work, Emma looked up again and steeled herself.

Grabbing the first rung, the princess started to climb carefully. She made sure to keep her eyes on the next rung, wincing occasionally as the rough rope bit into her feet or hands. When Emma had gotten up a dozen feet, she felt the ladder shudder. Looking down, she saw the pirate she had burned starting to climb, his eyes on her. Turning away quickly, she started to climb faster, not wanting him too close to her when she was so vulnerable, all too aware of the disadvantages of her current position.

Halfway up, she accidentally stepped on her nightgown in her hurry and lost her footing. With a small gasp, she fumbled to find a rung with her feet, meeting only empty air and the smooth, damp surface of the hull. Suddenly, she felt a rough hand grab her ankle and yank on it.

“Let me go!” she snapped reflexively.

“Then stop trying to kick me in the face, you foolish girl!” came the snapped reply, as the pirate forcibly guided her foot to a rung before releasing it. “Now, climb ,” he growled when she had found a better grip.

With a huff, Emma resumed her ascension, her heart still beating frantically. That boor was really getting on her nerves, even if it was the second time he had helped her. He was only doing it because of the parley law, anyway. She wouldn’t mind pouring another pan of embers on his smirking face, just to teach him some manners. Or a kettle of boiling water, Emma thought vindictively. It was with these violent but cathartic thoughts that Emma finished her climb. Not used to this kind of exercise, they distracted her from her burning arm muscles, as well as the pain on the bottom of her bare feet, where the friction of the rope was rubbing them nearly raw.

Once she reached the deck, she was unexpectedly grabbed under her armpits, lifted unceremoniously over the railing and plopped down roughly on her feet, making her stumble back and lean against the wooden handrail. Looking up (and up) at the man who had grabbed her, all she could see in the darkness was a tall silhouette whose shiny bald head reflected the light from a lantern coming from right behind him. The two stood at a standstill, observing each other, before a couple of seconds later, the small pirate jumped over the railing and landed next to her, distracting both of them.

“What the hell, Gill? You were sent to retrieve the coin, not to make friends!” the bald pirate barked before his crewmate had even finished straightening.

“And I did,” Gill told him, his tone surly. “Girlie here wanted to come talk to the captain.”

“Did she, now? Would she also like a tour of the ship while she’s here?”

“ She asked for parley,” Emma snapped, annoyed the two men were talking about her as if she were not there, as McCullough’s head appeared over the railing. “And she’d like to be taken to the captain, if you don’t mind.”

“She will speak when spoken to, unless she wants to meet Davy Jones,” the bald-headed pirate growled, leaning menacingly towards her.

Emma involuntarily took a step back at his words, getting closer to Gill and McCullough in the process. She did not trust them, but she preferred her chances with them rather than Tall, Bald and Growly. Rallying, she tried again, as she heard steps coming closer, “Now listen here, pirate law states that...”

“I said, quiet!” the new pirate bellowed, taking a step towards her, his hand flying up through the air as if to strike her. Emma flinched instinctively as Gill shouted “Fagan, no!” while McCullough’s large hand caught her by the back of her dressing gown, pulling her to his side, and out of Fagan’s reach.

The tall man’s hand never had a chance to descend, as a flash of silver stopped its descent. The air shifted as a smooth voice purred, “The lady said she was here to parley, Mr. Fagan. I believe that puts her under my protection, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fagan audibly gulped before answering, “Aye, Captain.”

“Then would you care to explain what you were doing with your hand in the air? It’s quite bad form to strike a lady, Mr. Fagan.”

At the captain’s words, Emma felt the three other pirates stiffen. Fagan, who until a few seconds ago had been an intimidating and commanding presence, seemed to shrink on himself.

Peering at the new arrival from McCullough’s side, she couldn’t see much. The light from the lantern showed he was smaller than Fagan, although not by much, and that he wore some kind of long leather coat that reached to his calves. But his voice told her plenty about his character. The clipped accent and smooth tone brought the image of elegance to mind, but the iron strength and dangerous purr made her think of a panther, ready to strike. It was obvious that the captain was not a man to be trifled with and Emma shivered, knowing she needed to be careful around him.

Raising her eyes slightly, the princess saw that Fagan’s arm was still aloft, restrained by whatever the captain was holding in his hand. It looked like some sort of hook, glinting coldly in the light.

It was then Emma’s turn to stiffen. A pirate crew, a black ship, a captain with a hook. No, it couldn’t be . It didn’t exist, it was a legend. The princess felt ice trickling down her spine as she saw both men lower their arms, shifting in such a manner that the light hit the captain’s left arm, and her suspicions were confirmed; the captain was not holding a hook in his hand, the hook was his hand.

She was on the Black Roger , a ghost ship rumored to have been haunting the seas, pillaging and plundering for at least three centuries. It was said to be crewed by evil spirits and a captain who was so vile hell had thrown him back out, keeping only his hand as a warning. He had replaced it with a hook, which he used to tear out the hearts of his victims before eating them. Well, that was the story she knew. Folklore of the Seas , one of Emma’s favorite books when she was a child, had filled her mind with a multitude of horrific images about the the ghost who now stood in the flesh before her. She knew most of these stories were only old wives’ tales to frighten young children, but those kind of stories usually held a kernel of truth - one she was now face-to-face with. This was Captain Hook.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” the leather-coated shadow said smugly, startling Emma. Had she spoken aloud? “Then it appears you have me at a disadvantage, lass. May I know who I am speaking to?”

Emma stiffened. Under no circumstance could they know who she was, or she and her whole kingdom would be in great danger. She thought fast. She needed to make herself as common, as unremarkable as possible. Did she invent a whole new identity, or did she stick close to the truth? Griffiths, one of her father’s counselors, had once told her that the more a lie stuck to the truth, the more believable it was. She decided to follow his advice, and to thank him if it worked and she went home safe.

“My name is Emma, I’m a maid at the castle,” she said, looking down demurely at her still bare feet.

“And does Emma have a last name?”

“Of course she – I do. It’s…” Emma hesitated, before warm brown eyes flashed in her mind. “It’s Swan. Emma Swan.”

The air became deathly quiet as the four men stilled. “Swan, you say?” said Gill, before being quietened down by a quick gesture from Hook.

“Well, Swan, Emma Swan, welcome aboard the Black Roger . Now, what could be so important that you asked for parley in the middle of a pirate raid?”

Drawing herself up, Emma told the captain, staring at where she thought his eyes were, “I’d feel more comfortable speaking to someone I can see, if you don’t mind, Captain.”

McCullough chuckled next to her, as did Hook as he took a few deliberate steps walking to the lantern and… hooking it. The captain brought it and himself closer to the princess, raising it so the light fell on his face when he was a few feet from her.

Emma had to draw on all her diplomatic training not to react. Where she had been expecting a scarred, weathered and ruthless-looking man to match the legends, she found herself looking instead into striking blue eyes set under black eyebrows. He was younger than she had expected, not more than a few years older than her, and apart from his missing hand and a little scar under his right eye, his skin was smooth and tanned, sprinkled liberally with chest hair where his shirt gaped open. The legends had gotten something right: he did look devilish, although more in a sinful manner than the monstrous way she had imagined.

If the way he was now grinning was any indication, she had not managed to keep a neutral face. Huffing again, Emma shifted, crossing her arms and surreptitiously putting a few more inches between them. This did not deter the pirate in any way, as he now took his time looking at her, trailing his eyes lazily over her face and her figure, his eyes coming to a stop on her chest, before his feral grin widened.

Really? thought Emma. Looking down, ready to pull her dressing gown over her cleavage to shield it from his gaze, the princess froze. The medallion was out. How ? How was it possible? She had put it inside her gown not ten minutes earlier, and there was no way it could have slipped out! It was almost as if it wanted to be seen. But that was stupid; it was just a piece of jewelry, an inanimate object. Right? Emma thought, as the light flickering over the medallion made it look like it was winking at her.

When she raised her eyes, she again met the gaze of the captain, who was looking at her calculatingly.

“So, Miss Swan? While it is certainly a pleasure to see such a lovely face grace the deck of my humble ship, what is it you want?”

“I’m here to negotiate your retreat from Misthaven.”

The captain laughed, looking back at his men, who were also laughing. “Now, why would I do that when it’s going so well for me, hm? What could you possibly have that would convince me to call my men back?”

Emma stilled. Well, when he put it like that… Princess Emma had access to lots of incentive, but Emma the maid did not. Then, inspiration struck. Emma remembered all the glances towards her medallion, Fagan’s remark when she had come aboard and something Gill had said in her room suddenly came back to her. We can feel it. Not you, it . They wanted the medallion. Emma just hoped they wanted it enough to do what she said.

“I have this,” she said, taking the necklace off and showing it to the pirates. “This is what you’re looking for, right? Leave the castle, and I’ll give it to you.”

The captain raised an eyebrow, his eyes not leaving her face. “Why would I want such a little trinket when I can have all the riches this castle and town possess?”

“Because you don’t care about those, this is what you want! That’s what he said,” Emma said, her tone more forceful, as she pointed at Fagan.

“Did he, now?” Hook said, looking almost nonchalantly at the bald pirate, who shifted uncomfortably, before turning back towards Emma as a cannon shot sounded across the bay. “Well even if it was – and I’m not saying it is – I’d like to point out that, since you are on my ship, I do have your necklace.”

Ah . “But pirate law – “

“Applies to pirates. Are you perchance a pirate, lass? Because one might wonder how a lowly maid such as yourself came in possession of such a lovely bauble.”

“I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re implying,” Emma snapped, on the defensive. Even if technically…

“Oh, a gift from your sweetheart, maybe? A family heirloom?” Hook asked, a sarcastic smirk pulling at his lips.

“That is none of your business, just know I’ve had it with me for a long time. Now, are you interested or not?”

“Oh, I’m definitely interested love, but not in your little deal. As I said, your little necklace is worth nothing to me, not when the crown jewels are probably making their way back to me right as we speak.”

Emma stiffened, remembering that her castle, and the people she knew and loved were currently under attack. How could she have forgotten, when more and more cannon shots were sounding over the water? Tired of this discussion, and of the whole situation, she decided to try bluffing.

“Well, if you don’t want it, then I guess you’re right, it is worthless. Might as well get rid of it,” she finished, thrusting the hand holding the necklace over the railing, pretending to throw it in the sea.

The pirates’ reaction was immediate. Their shouts of “No!” resonated on deck as they all took a step forward, the captain holding his hand towards her, his eyes wide in alarm.

Still keeping her hand over the water, Emma smiled sweetly, opening her hand and letting the pendant dangle from its chain. She saw with dark satisfaction the four pirates sigh in relief, their earlier bravado forgotten.

“Not so worthless after all, hm?”

“Congratulations, love, you’ve bested us. Now, why don’t you come here so we can talk?” Hook coaxed, taking a small step towards her. Despite his calm tone, Emma could see trepidation in his eyes, telling her his bravado was just a front, and that she had touched a nerve.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Take one more step and you’ll have to take a dive to get the necklace. I said, don’t move!” she snapped at Gill without taking her eyes off Hook, merely turning her head in his direction.

At that moment, another cannon shot sounded, followed very closely by a splash. It took Emma a moment to comprehend the alarm of his tone. Someone must have mustered the cannoneers at the fort. Hook’s eyes briefly looked behind her before fixating on her face again, all traces of a smile erased from his face.

“What are you terms?” he demanded.

“I told you, I want your men to leave the castle and the town immediately, and for you to never come back here.”

Hook’s eyes seemed to glint, but Emma thought it might have been a reflection from the lantern.

“Is that all? If I promise to hold these terms, you’ll give us the medallion?”

Emma straightened, feeling the importance of the moment. Her answer could secure her family and her kingdom’s safety. However, before the princess could take a decision, she had to be completely sure that he would hold his end of the bargain.

“Do you? Do you promise to respect our deal?” Emma asked Hook, staring at him intently, ready to catch the slightest hint of dishonesty. If she had even the smallest doubt, she would throw the medallion as far in the sea as she could in one direction, and dive in the water in the other. She’d rather try to swim to shore than stay on the ship with no leverage.

“I give you my word that I will do exactly as we agreed,” the pirate told her. Narrowing her eyes in concentration, Emma didn’t detect any lies in what he had told her. “And will you hold your part of the bargain, lass?”

With a nod, she answered, “Yes, I will.”

“Then we have a deal. Gill,” he barked over his shoulder, “call the men back, tell them not to dally.”

As Gill hurried to comply, muttering under his breath, the pirate captain turned back towards Emma, and held his hand out expectantly. Still distrustful, the princess looked at him indecisively, wondering if this was a trap. “How do I know this isn’t just a ruse? How can he contact your crew without leaving the ship?”

The captain pursed his lips in aggravation, before reaching inside his shirt, removing a necklace on the end of which hung a little shell. “Mermaid magic. Allows us to contact whoever holds one of those. We all do. Now, the necklace, if you please.” As Emma continued to hesitate, he sighed irritably, eyes flicking back toward the harbor as another splash sounded, much closer than the last. “Why don’t you try something new, lass, it’s called trust.”

Even as she brought her arm back over the railing, the princess looked at him defiantly. “I’ll never trust a pirate - especially one that destroyed my home,” she spat, dropping the medallion in his outstretched hand.

As soon as the medallion left her hand, she felt a small weight lift from her shoulders. Was it because this ordeal was finally coming to an end, and she was going to go home, or because of the necklace itself? If you’d asked her a few minutes earlier, she’d have said the former, but she still didn’t understand how the necklace had come out of her nightgown. She was honestly quite glad to be rid of it. Ever since she had taken it out this morning, her day had been getting worse and worse.

“It’ll be a hard pill to swallow, but somehow I’ll survive,” Hook drawled, rolling his eyes. “Gill, are you finished?”

When the older pirate nodded, the captain turned his back on Emma, shouting to his men, “Start preparing the ship for departure! Gill, McCullough, go secure the ammunition. Fagan, start charting our course. I want us out of here in fifteen minutes at most. Now, go!”

Wasn’t he forgetting something? “Wait! Hook, wait!” Emma said as she ran after the captain, grabbing his sleeve above his hook and ignoring his look of warning. “What about me? You have to take me back ashore!”

Shaking his arm from her grasp, the captain drew himself to his full height, raising his eyebrows haughtily. “I have to do no such thing. What gave you that idea?”

“I’m here under the protection of parley, it’s pirate law that you have to ensure my safe passage to your ship and my safe return, you illiterate idiot!” the princess said, getting frantic in her panic.

The pirate’s expression turned stormy, his patience finally at an end. “First, Swan, while I do have to ensure your safe passage , I am under no obligation to take you back.”

“Second,” he took a step towards her, forcing her to step back to keep her distance, “you are not a pirate, and thus not subject to pirate law. I was merely humoring you out of courtesy.”

“Third,” he took another step, his tone dropping in pitch, and it was almost as if he was dragging the shadows down from the night sky with his voice. “If you wanted me to take you back, you should have specified it in your terms, which you did not.

“Fourth,” he took one last step forward and Emma felt her back hit the railing. He paused, leaning towards her, casting a looming shadow that she could feel to her very bones, “that’s Captain Hook to you, lass.”

He whispered the last words to her, soft as a lover’s sigh. She could feel his warm breath brush across her cheek, and she told herself afterward that the vicious shiver that crept up her spine was from the contrast in temperature, and had nothing to do with the proximity of the man before her. But his spell was broken as he straightened, putting a tiny bit of breathing room between them, leaving Emma able to think clearly again.

“You can’t keep me here! You have to take me back!” Emma cried, feeling tears spring to her eyes as she realized the gravity of her situation. She had tried to keep from being kidnapped by hiding her identity, and yet here she was, unable to leave the ship as it prepared to sail away.

“ I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request,” Hook said, leaning towards her, making her hold her breath in trepidation. “It means no,” he whispered in her ear, before suddenly leaning back and striding towards the helm, taking the steps two at a time. “Welcome to the Black Roger, Miss Swan!”

Emma could only stare at him, paralyzed in horror as he turned his full attention to the helm and Fagan. Even as she felt McCullough’s large hands close once again on her arms, dragging her somewhere, her eyes never left the man.

Maybe the legends were right after all; Captain Hook really was a monster.

Chapter 5

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added!): @hollyethecurious, @shireness-says, @gingerchangeling, @slow-smiles, @wingedlioness, @branlovesouat, @snowbellewells, @kmomof4

#cssns #captain swan #cs fic #cs ff #snidget writes #tcotbr

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johnpauperwritings · 2 years

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Earth and Sky

Note: This story is based roughly upon a Norse legend involving dwarves. Austri, Norðri, Suðri, and Vestri were said to hold up the sky, appearing in the Prose Edda. I like dwarves in fantasy (Blame Tolkien.), so I decided to do a story based upon them.

In another age, before the ascendancy of the menskr, who would name themselves the humans, the world was shared between many peoples. One among that number were the dvergr, who would be called the dwarf. A dour people, generous to friend and harsh to foe, the No secrets of the earth escaped them, for they charted it all. Their metalwork and craftworks became renowned, so much that even the aesir craved dvergr craft work.

Their homes were carved into stone and dug into earth; some claimed they built great subterranean cities. In truth, it was not their cities but their great mining shafts that blossomed beneath the earth, great caverns chiseled out as the dvergr sought out geodes and veins of ore for their smiths; and their mighty forges, where the greatest of dvergr craft, were found deep within the world, their refuse coming up out of the ground as the dvergr toiled under the roof that was the surface, where winds and light of sun, star, and moon never touched.

For if there was one thing that the dvergr did not comprehend it was the sky. How could there be something where the earth did not touch? Even water, that which wore down earth, still embraced the earth, covering the world where earth did not reign.

But the winds laughed at the earth, and skirted above and around it, and blew it away where it was not firm. Clouds floated far above the ground, sometimes gentle in their passing, sometimes raining death in lighting and exciting rivers to flood.

And the stars, the sun, and the moon were the strangest of celestial bodies, far above even clouds. The sun was the worst, for it burned the dvergr who stayed out on the surface too long, turning their skin to reds and tans. But the sky, much less the surface, did not interest most dvergr; anything that could be gained from it they could gain from the earth. A dvergr lived and died by the earth, and so it was.

But there were dvergr who wondered what was up in the sky. For did not the ships of the aesir and others dance in the sky? Why should the dvergr not join them? Such rumblings and curiosity persisted among the dvergr. Until at last four among them banded together, who would go further than even the aesir and become renowned for their explorations of the cosmos.

These dvergr were not kinsmen, but were linked by their passion, to go where no dvergr went before. Four in number they were, and their names were Norðri, Suðri, Austri and Vestri. Their true names were not these, but they were the names that survived in menskr legends, and what shall be used for them here.

Of the four explorers, little remains to know of their character. Norðri was said to be cold, firm. His gaze was as piercing as ice, and steady. Suðri was impetuous, ever blazing with passion. Austri and Vestri were brothers, alike in appearance and character; in fact, it seems the two were nigh identical, save that one was left handed and the other right handed.

Each of the four desired to explore the sky, and each were mocked by their fellows.

"What dvergr dreams of going into the sky? Earth is where we dvergr belong, where we live and die. Let the aesir fiddle their thumbs in the sky, while we make for them their arms and jewelry."

"Don't be fucking daft, boy. No dvergr has ever walked the skies, and no devergr ever will."

Faced with scorn and disbelief, each of the sky sailors left their homes, wandering from place to place. In time the four met at the place where the sky and earth almost touched; each had come to see if they could walk between the earth and sky, and found that of course they could not. Joining together by a common goal, they decided that instead they should learn how to create the first dvergr sky-ship.

Now the question emerges; why not acquire a sky-ship from another people, such as the aesir? This would appear to be common sense to a human, for if we come across something that we did not invent, our instinct is to take, make our on versions, and then improve upon them Such was not the way of the dvergr; even if two dvergr build something nigh-identical, unless they were kin or close friends they would never know of the other's designs, their style of craft, or the materials used. And while the sky sailors could indeed acquire a ship from someone else, it would be improper; dvergr survived off their own craftsmanship, not those of others. And so the work began upon the crafting of the first dvergr sky-ship.

The first design was the work of Norðri.

"I shall design a ship of the skies to be as unyielding as I. It shall be made from the firmest of metals, the strongest of stone. No wind shall faze it, nor light of sun harm it. Word shall spread of its bulwark strength, a great boulder upon the currents of the sky."

As Norðri planned his design, Suðri focused upon his own.

"I shall craft a design that shall blaze across the stars. The flames of its engines shall be like a second sun, racing through the heavens. Its hull shall be light, as strong as it needs to be to dance among the stars."

Austri and Vestri, rather than design a sky-ship right away, decided to learn about the concepts of aerodynamics, of gravity, of the forces of the world. For though skilled craftsmen and designers, Norðri and Suðri knew nothing of the principles of sky-ships. How could they be, for it was not taught among the dvergr; they assumed that the sky would be similar to ocean ships, which both had built in the past. And so Norðri and Suðri toiled away upon their sky-ships, while Austri and Vestri became learned engineers.

Soon, the ships were completed. After a decision by straws, Norðri gained the right to go first. As he planned, he built his ship from the strongest of metals and stone. Ornately carved and molded into shape, it was akin to a flying chunk of rock hewn into statues and a building, metal bands and reinforcements skillfully put into place.

"Well, my friends, what do you say to this?" Norðri spoke, chest puffed with pride at his work.

"Masterfully done, but there is a problem." Suðri replied, coming back after walking around Norðri's sky-ship. "You have forgotten engines, my friend."

"Nonsense, I have added them. Come and see," Norðri said as he led the others onto the sky-ship. Passing through decorative doors, they soon came upon Norðri's engines; they were water boilers, steam based engines for powering the stone and metal ship.

"Behold, the engines," Norðri said, as he turned to face Suðri .

"Yes, impressive. Steam engines. And what are they connected to?"

"Propellers, of course."

"Ah, but propellers are too weak to lift up your mighty ship!"

"They most certainly are not."

"Do you know even anything about engines, Norðri?"

"Well, somewhat yes. I am more a stonemason and metalworker than an engine-crafter."

"That much is clear from your engine choice."

"Well, yes."

"Well then! Try and fly it, Norðri."

"Of course, though I shall not try. And you shall be proven wrong, Suðri."

In this exchange Austri and Vestri kept quiet, busy going around and through the ship, taking in every detail while the craftsmen bickered. They wrote down their observations, studiously taking notes on what they saw.

Soon, Norðri tried to get his sky-ship off the ground, with the others standing nearby. Soon the engines sputtered in smoke and flame from the strain of trying to lift Norðri's ship of rock and metal, the propellers spinning uselessly. Norðri's ship shuddered as the steam engines burst from the strain. Norðri himself hopped down from the ship, scratching at his head as he looked it over.

"Perhaps I do not have enough engines?" he said.

"The sky-ship is too heavy, Norðri," Austri said. "It cannot escape the pull of the world upon it.

"Nor did you add any means of lift," Vestri said. "How is a sky-ship supposed to reach the sky if it cannot leave the ground?

Norðri frowned as he considered their words, completely uncomprehending. Lift? As with cranes? And did the earth pull its fruits close to it, jealousy keeping them on the ground?

"Well...could it perhaps be lifted up if there were better engines?" Norðri said.

"Well," Austri said, "with better engines it could perhaps move. But fly-"

"Ha!" Suðri cried, clapping his hands. "If stronger engines are what's needed, come and behold mine sky-ship!" And at once he sat off, motioning for the others to follow with sweeping waves of his arm.

Suðri took a quite different approach to his sky-ship when compared with Norðri's; a great jet occupied the rear of the sky-ship, itself a light metal frame. It was all metal, no stone anywhere to be seen. Suðri built a ship to be able to cut through water, for in his mind a ship that sliced through the waves as it sped along would do the same when it went through the skies. A cutting plow, sleek hull design, a masterwork of a ship. Save one thing.

"It is tiny," Norðri said, rubbing his chin as he gazed upon the diminutive ship with the gaze of judgement.

"Indeed. And light!" Suðri patted the metallic hull, wide grin across his face. "For you see, friend Norðri, my ship shall tear across the sky with ease, where you made yours far too heavy for even a jottun to nudge."

"Where is your means of lifft, Suðri?" Austri said. "For from where I stand the only thing this shall tear is its own hull scraping along the ground."

"Worry not, friend Austri," Suðri said, "for I have prepared for that as well!"

With that Suðri leapt aboard his sky-ship, and pulled levers and ropes. From the ship sprung out wings along the sides, balloons lifted up from the center of the ship. Suðri returned to the edge of the ship, hands spread out wide.

"Well, friends? What do you say to this?" He said, pleased with himself.

"A promising start, Suðri," Vestri said, "but you are not yet flying."

"Yes, Suðri," Norðri said, unimpressed with Suðri's ship. Or, perhaps, desiring Suðri's ship to fail as Norðri's own ship did. "Show us, how does your lightweight ship fare?"

"But of course! Watch, and be amazed!" Suðri turned at once, and activated the engine he had designed.

Suðri made one miscalculation; his jets were at the rear. His ship jetted forwards, crushing itself against the ground and walls. The jets tore free of their mounts, soaring off into the sky and ground. Their explosions brightened the night sky.

Fortunate then that the dvergr were nigh-indestructible, and such a crash was but a mild inconvenience where to humans it would be fatal. Suðri soon appeared on the distance returning to the others, who waited for him, unimpressed.

"You were right, Austri," Norðri said. "His ship did tear itself apart."

"Poor engine placement, perhaps," Austri said, "or perhaps he made them too powerful."

"Could it not be both, brother?" Vestri said, dotting down notes while his brother and Nori began laughing and seeing where pieces of Suðri's ship landed.

In time, Suðri returned, his smile now one of embarrassment rather than pride.

"Ah, you see, my ship went ten miles before it splintered apart,' Suðri said, "so it is an improvement over Norðri's."

"Mine is still intact, friend Suðri," Norðri replied. "Yours is now scattered all along that scar in the earth."

"Not something that can be called a sky-ship, can it?" Austri said. "All it did was plow through the earth."

"Well, then," Suðri said, poking his finger into Austri's chest, "you do better. You and your brother have not built a ship yet."

"We have not," Vestri said,"but we have developed an idea." Vestri crossed his arms, pulling at his ear. "However, we will need to do something drastic."

"Drastic how so?" Norðri said, turning to face Vestri.

"We think," Austri said, stepping in for his brother, "that the best approach to a sky-ship is to design and build one together."

"What? That is forbidden," Norðri said.

"And our styles will clash too much, would they not?" Suðri said, arms crossed.

"Where is it forbidden for dvergr to work together?" Vestri said.

"Well, nowhere," Norðri said. "But it is not custom."

"Nor is it custom for dvergr to seek the skies," Vestri replied, pacing as he spoke, "and yet here we are. Nothing about what we seek is 'custom.' After all, were we not scorned for daring to seek the skies? Were we not shunned by even our kin for what they saw as folly?"

"Yes, yes, and so what?" Suðri said, "Make your point already."

"Our design is meant to reach the skies," Vestri said. "My brother and I have studied how best to design a sky-ship, but know nothing of building ships or engines. You, Suðri, are an enginesmith. And you, Norðri, know how to build firm hulls."

"Heavy hulls, perhaps," Suðri said, prompting Vestri to wheel on him.

"Yours was too thin, Suðri; it could not withstand the force of your engines. It could not slow itself down, and if it actually took flight would be swept away by the winds."

Suðri opened his mouth to respond, then shut it. He could not refute Vestri, not with a straight face.

"I see your logic now, Vestri," Norðri said, rubbing at his chin. "I find no fault in it."

"Of course you don't," Austri said, "because there is none."

"Brother, please," Vestri said, "there is no need for that. What say you, Suðri?"

Suðri kept quiet, mulling his answer. "I say," he said at length, "that we are wasting time. This ship shall not build itself!"

And so work began upon the third ship. And the fourth. And the fifth. It was the sixth that succeeded where the others failed, and at last the sky sailors took to the air. The first and last of the dvergr to sail the skies and the cosmos, even the latecoming menskr, us humans, remember them. For after them we named the four winds of the earth after each of the dvergr; Austri, Norðri, Suðri, and Vestri.

What became of them, the dvergr who tread the skies? Some say they hold up the skulls of giants. Others that they sail the skies of the cosmos still. We humans shall never know, for the secrets of the past ages are lost forever.

#Norse mythology #original writing

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ooc-but-stylish · 6 years

Text

The FFXV Dossier

or,

More Proof that the Writers at Square Have No Clue WTF They Are Doing

Ravus Dossier: “Eldest son of House Fleuret, Blood of the Oracle, and older brother to Lady Lunafreya. His mother was burned alive in the fires that consumed Tenebrae twelve years ago.”

It wasn’t bad enough that Sylva was run through by Glauca’s sword, she also was still alive after that and then legit died in a fire. Then Luna proceeds to mention her mother not a single time throughout the game, with the motherly presence replaced by Gentiana, the Most Ineffectual Attendant and Friend Ever. They didn’t have to do that to Sylva, but they did.

“Blaming the “cowardly” King Regis for her death,”

He was indeed a coward. No quotation marks needed. Carry on.

"Unfortunately, the Rulers of Yore deemed him unworthy of their power, and singed his left arm as punishment for his hubris."

Less “singed” and more “he got his own arm burnt off, was in incredible pain, and needed a Magitek prosthetic replacement and also his sister saw him burn-- to death, for all she knew-- and didn’t say a damn thing nor make any effort to help him”, but sure.

“The empire’s assault on Altissia was an unequivocal failure that resulted in massive casualties. As High Commander, Ravus is forced to take responsibilty for this disastrous outcome and is succinctly scheduled for execution.”

Good of the dossier to clue us in on missable but important character information that would explain later parts of the story or why anyone is anywhere.

“Yet Lunafreya convinces her brother that his initial impression of the prince was wrong, and he has a change of heart.”

First of all, Lunafreya has no sense of self and her existence is defined by her continued positive relationship with a prince and a king she hasn’t seen in twelve goddamn years.

Second, this game runs on morality centered on whatever character the narrative wants to fellate. Luna didn’t tell Ravus that she chose to let Regis’s hand go. That gave Ravus the impression that Regis abandoned all of the Nox Fleurets to their fate instead of just two of them (although IMO, that he still abandoned them doesn’t get less bad).

Third, rather than having writing that examines the flaws of characters perceived or presented as Good People, instead what the narrative does is it twists characters into pretzels to sell that Regis was 100% pure and free of even the perception of wrongdoing, defended by another “sacrosanct” character (Luna) who is never wrong ever and is the best judge of character just because the game says so and look at how nice and good she is.

Anyone who disagreed with Regis “didn’t understand what he was going through”, even though his actions involved the manipulation and death of someone he was supposed to protect and care for (Noctis) and the sacrifice of many other people on top of that (Insomnian citizens, Luna, Ignis, Nyx, etc.), with all the blame of the events falling onto Noctis, who was deliberately raised not to know about a majority of the things he needed to do in the game nor the true extent of his burden because Regis wanted to “treat him like a normal boy” to make himself feel better about the fact that his son would die young anyway.

So, I don’t blame Ravus for thinking Noctis was an ignorant shit.

The problem is that at no point is Ravus disabused of the notion that Noctis is that way on purpose nor allowed to act in light of that knowledge. All Luna does is shill for Noct and tells Ravus that he’s wrong and he should change his mind about the guy because he will rise to the occasion in the future. She defends Noctis in a way that more or less admits that Ravus is right about his assessment but that it’s somehow irrelevant. In reality, Ravus is under no obligation to wait for that undetermined future time (10 years later... Ravus would wait a total of 22 years for Noctis to prove himself?) or expect that future behavior/redemption will make up for present misdeeds-- from Ravus’s POV Noctis shows no behavior that lends to the idea he knows what he’s doing or that he’s not just blowing off the fact that Luna is dying for him.

I still maintain that if Noctis knew that Luna was dying as the price of the covenants, he and Ravus would have seen eye to eye. However, every time someone makes it known that “Luna is dying”, the context is twisted to make it seem like she died because of Noctis and that she possessed the Ring of the Lucii (known to drain life and cause ill health), not because the gods robbed her of her life as part of waking them up-- a reality which makes Noctis a few steps removed from being the cause of Luna’s death. But I digress.

At the point Ravus “redeems himself” of his negative opinion and shows it, he has no other choice: Luna is already falling apart and near-death so he has to be a LuNoct shipper all of a sudden, and later on Noctis is the last remaining option to save the world that Ravus wanted his sister to live in and give people the future he wanted her to enjoy. Then it turns out that wasn’t even Noctis he was talking to, so he got no closure.

The problem is also that Ravus’s issue with Noctis and Regis is one that the narrative shows he’s not allowed to have. An opinion that Regis is a coward and Noctis is ignorant is some kind of “hallmark of villainy” for this game, because how dare people disagree with the protagonists and have a negative opinion on them! So Ravus needed to be “redeemed” and “see the light” about how great Noctis and Regis are when

he shouldn’t have had to

being a stan for the protag is not the same as being a good character

it’s not even the requirement of being a hero, or even a good person

and wow, look at all the good it did him considering he still fucking died. His name is Ravus and they didn’t let him have a gray view of the protagonists. He died and his body was defiled.

Gentiana Dossier: "Gentiana prefers not to interfere with the everyday occurrences of the mortal world"

Including, of course, a twelve year old Luna being beaten by Caligo. And Luna being murdered by Ardyn the day after Gentiana appeared in Altissia. And Sylva being murdered by Glauca (or rather, BURNED ALIVE in the fire near Fenestala Manor). Those everyday occurrences. Ok.

Crepera/The Rogue Dossier: "One of the guardians of the Old Wall, consumed by the Starscourge and forced to submit to Ardyn’s will.”

Ardyn is such a Sue he can infect spirits now? Ok.

I mean, the Old Wall fell apart when Nyx summoned them to fight Diamond Weapon and Drautos, and calling upon them is a power granted by those who have the Ring of the Lucii, but Ardyn still brought some Kings of Lucis back to possess them with powers antithetical to the ones that could control and awaken them in the first place. This is after he summoned a Wall to cover the Citadel that’s identical to the one powered by the Crystal and the Ring of the Lucii when the Crystal already rejected him and he should have no right to its abilities as well as not having the Ring in his possession. Splendid.

"Having lost her father and older brother to the daemons"

Oh, so the Kings of Lucis could have more than one child! But Noctis doesn't have a sibling because......?

“At the time, however, the thought of a woman ruling the kingdom was preposterous to some. Thus the Rogue reigned from the shadows, helping Lucis to overcome a difficult era without once revealing her face to the masses.”

Okay, so the sole surviving daughter of the Lucian monarchy is ruling the place but the problem people have with it is her sex? Ok. I mean this is an isolationist country that's already hated by the people outside of it for its practices and general neglect of the neighboring lands but having a woman at the helm is the real problem. My god. But it is good to know that, in a world with massive genocidal water snakes, giants holding up meteors, clones, robots, malarial space herpes, frosty ice giantesses being maids to Discount Female Jesus Figures, all of which exist on a planet smaller than fucking Rhode Island, sexism still remains intact. So good to know.

Like it wasn't known that the previous King had a son and a daughter? So no shit if the father and son die that the daughter would be left, unless a) a total foreigner would rule the country, for the sake of "muh male dominance" which is shit, b) someone not descended from the Lucian line would rule the country, for the above reason, which is still shit c) the daughter disguised herself as a man and for maximum roleplay got herself a wife too, because people can’t accept a woman being in charge for some reason, but anyway it still makes no sense because the solution after all was that she still does her job, but she does it behind the scenes because she morphed from King of Lucis to Harry Potter whenever the Dursleys have a guest in their house.

Fuck, I mean, doesn’t the Rogue wield a big honkin’ shuriken? I thought this "ruling from the shadows" thing was more like her conducting assassinations by moonlight and winning the hearts of her subjects by daylight like a murderous Sailor Moon! The flavor text says she “spurned the public eye”, so you know what'd also be acceptable? Her not being in the spotlight because that’s just part of her personality, but I hear Square has no idea how giving women personalities is supposed to work. A "King of Lucis" that avoids paparazzi like the fucking plague would be A++ but nah, it’s because this fantasy world still needs sexism in it, and this King of Lucis who’s gotten her position by “birthright” and “natural causes” still gives a fuck about social mores. Utter horseshit.

#ffxv critical #ravus nox fleuret #crepera the rogue #gentiana #regis critical #regis negative #gentiana negative #lunafreya critical #long post

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