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ginazmemeoir · 4 years

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Kashibai-Mastani

I was inspired by @allegoriesinmediasres to right this fic. It’s three pages long, so i would advise you to sit tight.

Kashi stood numb as she watched the projector curtain burn. She felt that Baji had burnt their marriage of 20 years too in a single night.

Mastani drew in a breath as Bajirao drew her closer in the Aaina Mahal in open defiance of his mother Radhabai. The anger on her face was clear, and Mastani felt as if she was committing a crime, when she shouldn’t have to.

It had been a year since the Aaina Mahal incident. Baji first reduced his visits, and then stopped altogether. He spent most of his time with Mastani in the palace he had specially constructed for her. The only time he saw Kashi was when she came back from her mother’s home after delivering her secondborn who was at length christened Raghunathrao (she called him Raghu or Raghoba). Even then he had left immediately to assist Mastani with her birth. Kashi hated a small part of herself for wishing that both mother and child died that day. She did everything to convince herself that she was happy, but the shock of betrayal had left her hollow. The maids and noblewomen were silenced by her sister-in-laws, but Kashi felt the sting of their taunts. She tried to believe she was luckier and happier, for she had the support of her entire kingdom and family, but really she just felt stripped of everything – cast adrift in a cruel sea.

Mastani now knew the true meaning of heaven. Yes she missed her father’s palace very much, but she would even trade the pleasure of a thousand jannats to spend time with Baji. He was teaching Krishna to walk right now (she insisted on calling him Krishna, while Baji called him Bahadur), and she felt she was in a dream – beautiful and fragile, and she feared it would break one day and she would wake up cold and alone.

Kashi didn’t know what to do. She considered her options – Mastani and her son’s death would mean that she had a chance to get back everything she had. But she knew nothing would ever be the same – her husband would be a broken man. No matter how much she wanted, her conscience wouldn’t let her commit such a crime, not today when she was worshipping Ganpati, the lord of auspiciousness and happiness. She went and told Baji during the aarti and they both rushed to rescue her, reaching just in time as she slew the final assassin and collapsed. Kashi hugged Bahadur and checked him for any harm. Then looking at Baji, she left and sent for the doctors.

Mastani felt her dream was cracking. She remembered each cruelty she had experienced at the hands of the Peshwa elite – staying in a brothel, being asked to dance in a private audience, and now almost being killed. She now feared for the life of her son, but one look at Baji, and she knew he would do anything to keep her safe. But just for her sake, she asked her father to send a contingent of her loyal Rajput soldiers from Banda.

It had been six years since things changed between her and Baji. Her wounds were healing, and Kashi was going to invite Mastani today for Gauri Padwa. As she reached Mastani Mahal, she heard both children giggling. The mothers couldn’t be happier that the animosity between them hadn’t affected their children in anyway – Raghoba and Bahadur were practically inseparable. Kashi stood near the threshold for a long time. She took in all of the palace – a marvel truly, it was a fusion of Rajputi, Mughal and Marathi architecture. There were jalis and jharokhas, a space she thought was meant for dua and ibadat and then a shrine dedicated to Krishna. Truly Mastani was wonderful. The palace was bare and elegant, sprawled instead with lush gardens, courtyard and fountains. She spotted an armoury, fit for warriors like her. Mastani was reciting poetry to the children then – it was about a pearl yearning to get out of the clam and embrace the ocean. Her poetry was magical, meanwhile Kashi wrote poems about a frog who ate nothing but laddoos and farted. Finally, the kids were sent away and Kashi entered.

Mastani saw Kashi standing near the threshold. She didn’t invite her, but instead used the poetry as a cover to recollect what she knew about her. They hadn’t met often, but on the rare occasion they had, she had found her to be collected and composed, watching everything silently. Mastani’s father had desperately tried to teach her these court manners, but failed on watching her giggling. The rest, she knew from Bajirao. He described her in astounding detail, like one would describe the full moon. She was innocent, but was a born empress. She navigated the deadly world of politics with ease, disarming opponents with kindness and taunts at the same time. She had established a strong rapport with her in-laws, and being the daughter of the richest banker in Pune, she had a head for numbers. Baji even described her palace while constructing hers - it was an elaborate architecture, covered with statues and intricate carvings. There were not many gardens and the armoury was absent, but there was instead a well equipped kitchen and atelier, with foreign supplies. Everywhere one looked there was light; the entire structure was covered in arches of diyas, lamps and chandeliers. Her room was painted in bright colours, and there was a coveted bronze statue which must have cost a fortune. Kashi was every inch the empress she was. Shooing the children away, she invited her.

Kashi didn’t know what overcame her, but the poison she carried with her for six years came out pouring like a river. She had no sense of what she was speaking, but she knew it was not fit to be spoken by the Peshwain for the Princess of Budelkhand.

Mastani had expected this. She called her mistress and whore, a destroyer of homes; this she heard everyday – what she hadn’t expected was for her to start crying, then apologize and tell her to be strong, and then invite her to the Padwa function she had organized in the main palace.

That day both danced and revelled, ate food, prayed for happiness and shared as women, and unwittingly both had created a place in the other’s heart.

The next week Baji finally visited Kashi’s palace. The place had changed – it was not lit by lamps anymore. Kashi now knew what she was doing; she lashed out at Baji, called him a thousand cruel names. She reminded him of the way he hurt her, and then didn’t even care to come. So she banned him from her palace henceforth. She then wished him a long life and victory in battle, as he headed out to Hyderabad to quell the Nizam.

Mastani gave Bajirao his armour and swords. The right was reserved for the Peshwain, but Bajirao felt a warrior princess was better suited. He felt eerily calm as he shared a cryptic message with her and then rode off to battle.

Baji had fallen sick with fever and there were sores over his body. Palanquins were readied for Kashi and Radhabai in the dead of night along with a regiment of doctors, nurses, maids, cooks and soldiers as they headed to Rawalkhedi, when Kashi halted the procession. She went down from her palanquin, and rushed out, returning with Mastani and her son. Baji needed her. However Radhabai still had her way – Mastani was to come with the soldiers, cooks and maids later on. She arrived two days after Kashi. Bajirao rushed out of the tent to embrace her. That was the first night his week long fever broke.

There was not much to do, and so Kashi and Mastani spent most of the time together. They talked, laughed, ran, played games, and wept. Before long, both the women were fast friends.v

Baji was declared dead. All were shocked beyond measure. Nanasaheb was called from Pune to light fire to his father’s funeral pyre. He was then anointed Peshwa at Rawalkhedi. Kashi and Mastani now knew the real meaning of separation. They felt as if the precarious thread from which their lives were connected had snapped.

Weeks went by even after reaching Pune till Mastani emerged from her palace. As regnant Peshwain, Kashi was immediately swarmed by duties. Both women started moving towards the other, finding solace in the other’s company. It was time for Kashi to shave her head and burn her clothes and jewellery. Mastani convinced her otherwise – she was a human too, and her life without Baji just had as much meaning as with him. Both gave each other courage, and soon friendship blossomed to love.

They embraced each other in a secluded garden like they were the last humans on earth. Kashi wept, for she thought their relation was not meant to be. Mastani was made of stronger metal. She wrote a letter to her father the next day, asking his permission to marry Kashi. It took a week for the letter to arrive with the best of runners. The letter was in her mother’s writing. Both parents had blessed the union, but advised her to move with caution, even telling her to come back to Banda where she would be safe.

Mastani broke the news to Kashi. Kashi couldn’t believe her ears – what she believed was impure and irrational, was indeed love, and Mastani was willing to sacrifice everything for it. Kashi mustered all her courage and contacted her father too. The letter was delivered to her in secret – her father reaffirmed her that all love is pure, and further warned that if the Peshwas further tried to snatch her daughter’s happiness, he would make paupers out of them. Both sets of parents convinced, the only obstacles left were Radhabai and Nanasaheb.

Radhabai had reformed after her son’s death. She had accepted Mastani and her son, and even inculcated mullahs along with pandits to educate the young Peshwa princes. However, it took a lot of diplomacy and some tears to convince her of the union between a Hindu and Muslim widow.

Nana was a tougher nut to crack. He loved his mother, but still hated Mastani with a burning intensity, blaming her for his mother’s sorrows. He had always stayed under his grandmother’s shadow, and thus his young mind had already developed rigid ideas surrounding religion, caste, and women. It took two months for him to accept the union, after realizing the need for his mother to have a partner, and her right to be happy.

The wedding was conducted with full pomp and gaiety. The entirety of Pune, the Maratha nobility, and the relatives of both the brides arrived for this strange ceremony taking place. The ceremony was conducted through both Hindu and Muslim customs to keep religious tensions to a minimum. Both brides were resplendent and happy, and then retired to their quarters.

Their marriage ushered a new peace in the Maratha empire – strengthening unity and for the first time raising questions about women’s and widows’ rights. Mastani had headed with her son to the Battle of Panipat as a diplomat and was instrumental in brokering peace. Kashi played her part as the Peshwain to perfection, handling the increasingly autonomous Maratha chiefs.

They retired after the battle to a palace within the woods. The women lived in peace, and served as an example for history – that love indeed is boundless.

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writing-the-end · 4 years

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LoL Chapter 12: Family Dynamics

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Safe on their home island of Eremita, the hermits need to practice, grow their magic stronger. A day in the life of the illegal guild of hermits includes food- practice- more food- practice- contemplating of life.

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The Order returned to their island, healed by the remaining Asklepions and left with more questions than answers. They know almost nothing more about dark magic, despite fighting it twice now. When they thought husks only appeared around crystals, Danes proved they can move. When they believed they understood why a husk appeared, the monsters just tore apart their theories.

One thing they did learn from the two experiences is they need more training. More experience, especially against dark magic. The hermits were strong, but the forces of darkness were stronger. But before any of them can take on each other, they first need to take on breakfast.

Which is a challenge in itself. Half of the hermits want to jump right into training, ignoring the guild hall and insistence of TFC. The other half are easily enticed by the scent of food.

Grian is practically vibrating in his seat, to the point that Iskall has to reach out and press his hand on the blond hair to keep him seated. “Who thought it was a good idea to give him syrup?”

“It’s not the breakfast, I can’t wait to get back to sparring!” Grian grins, turning to Mumbo. “You ready for another round of quickdraws?”

Mumbo groans, head falling back and mouth falling open. “Gri, you know I can’t quickdraw my magic circle.”

“Like, at all, dude.” Iskall hums, picking the skin off an orange.

“That’s how you’ll get better! Learn by doing!” Grian points out. He knows that Mumbo struggles with his magic- it’s a lot of magic to handle, being a multi-mage. But he’s seen Mumbo’s strength, he sees the potential in his best friend. And only someone as equally powerful as him, like Grian, can take on that power. Once it shows itself.

Stress walks by, rolling up her sleeves and brushing the rat’s nest from her hair. She sits down next to False, squeaking as the sharp slice of rock against metal cuts into the air. Stress realizes the shining alloy isn’t a plate. “False, haven’t we said before- no weapons on the tables?”

“It’s no used weapons. This is brand new, just finished forging it last night.” She picks the chakram by the handle in the center, tossing the disk blade across the table to Wels. “Why don’t you give it a try today?”

Wels laughs, giving the weapon a slice and a spin. “Let’s see Etho dodge this.”

Etho, hearing his own name, abruptly stands up from his seat and scurries into the nearest shadow, a strip of bacon shoved into his mouth as he pulls up his mask. Doc and BDubs only laugh, divvying up the remains of Etho’s breakfast.

Under the quiet seats under the massive oak, as old as the island itself, Keralis and Xisuma are studying. Keralis stopped by his family’s bookstore on the mainland, sifting through ancient tomes in hopes of finding something about dark magic.

“Ugh, why does no one write about dark magic, sheshwammy?” Keralis growls, his thick south Lairyon accent struggling to say Xisuma’s central name.

“Probably because it’s illegal to practice it, so no one knows anything about it.” Xisuma sets down another book, picking up the egg sandwich he made and taking a frustrated bite. “Though someone obviously does. But we need proof that this is dark magic, written proof.” He knows they can’t stop it themselves- that’s the arcane guard’s job. But after seeing all of Gildara abandoned, and most of the Asklepions killed, the least he can do is this.

“You really think the pen is mightier than the sword?” False questions, raising an eyebrow. She presses her knife into the sausage patty on her plate, daring Joe to answer.

“I mean, when my pen can make a giant magic sword with fire and lightning, yeah.” Joe grins, pressing his chin to his open palm. A dangerous glint appears behind his glasses, and he uses the other hand to push them up. Sun reflects off the spectacles, making it impossible for False to see anything beyond the smirk and the light- infuriating her.

“Cleo,” False grabs the pirate by her long coat and dragging her into the conversation. Without the paladin here to back her up, she needed someone else with a way with words. “You get what I’m saying. Tell me your blade there wouldn’t completely destroy Joe in a fight. I mean, all I’d have to do is cut up that journal of yours and your magic is useless!”

“Well, Joe does have a point. Sure, your forged weapons are the best in the kingdom, and Joe is screwed if he ever has to face you without his magic.” Cleo pauses, watching the two. “But I’m inclined to believe that words should come before violence- which is why anytime Mr. Joe of the Hills here refuses to finish his breakfast, I remind him with my words that I’m going to break his knees before i actually do.” Cleo pulls out her sword, setting the tip on the wood table.

Joe shoves the last of his pancakes into his mouth, quick to retreat from Cleo. He was asking for trouble with False, but he knows any of the women could easily kick his ass. Even as an S-Class. “Hey False, why don’t we take this debate to the training field, see how mighty the sword is to the pen?”

“You can’t escape me forever, Joe!” Cleo calls, watching as the two S-Class mages run down the hill and onto the latter half of the island. Their home island, Eremita, was separated into two parts. The southern side of the island lays claim to where the hermits live. An odd mix of towers and forges, ships and caves. It was up to the hermits to chose their own style of household- which created some disunion of the overall complex, but allowed for each member to express themselves. Everyone helped, whether Scar packed stone bricks or False forged iron nails.

The other half of the island, however, was left mostly untouched. A large field of grass, combed by the salty sea air, dotted with targets and barriers. A dirt circle cuts into the field, where hermits can duel one on one. Beyond the field, a large pond expands like an eye to the face of the island. Caressing the other shore, a dense forest grows on a slow rise of a hill, before stopping at the edge of the cove of a broad, sandy beach. It was a perfect home, a perfect place for an illegal guild to lay claim.

Training grounds quickly filled with groups and teams, even TFC getting in on strengthening himself. He wasn’t going to let some little rock keep him down for long. “Hey Cub, lets show these guys a thing or two about magic.”

The two silver haired, bearded men join the others well settled into today’s training. Deep in the forest, a soft explosion can be heard, followed by the giddy laughter as Zedaph leaps from tree to tree. Tango and Impulse struggle to follow him, and the birds diving for their heads don’t help. At the interface between trees and grass, Doc and Jevin have teamed up to amass an army. Objects under the devious control of Doc’s puppeteering magic, violent and unshaken to mimic the husks they fought. Jevin’s slime soldiers add bodies to the battle, flanking Iskall, Ren, and Xisuma. Hiding behind a barrier, Etho is waiting for the sun to reappear and for shadows to return, ducking his head as the chakram whizzes past. Despite his terrifying predicament, he has a coy smile on his face.

In the field, BDubs is practicing his aim with Scar, shredding apart haybales with their unique magic. Plants grow from one, thorns dug deep into the tightly bound material. The other has been knocked over and crushed by a boulder, Scar cheering his success. And in the center of the dueling ring, Mumbo and Grian stand still as stone. The quietest Grian ever has been. In a flash, as simple as a shift in the wind’s direction, Mumbo rushes to summon his circle. A second later, he’s blown off his feet, Grian grinning with blue embers fading away from his fingers. Mumbo groans, rubbing the dirt stained fabric on his rear. “You couldn’t have given me a few seconds? It’s not like I’d ever win.”

Grian offers an easy smile, waving Mumbo closer. “Come on, let’s practice the basics again. I know you can do it, friend.”

The hermits continue into the afternoon, only stopping their training briefly for lunch under the cool relief of the oaken guild hall. Groups disband and reform, training and practicing and learning from each other. Trying to be better, stronger together. So that next time they come face to face with an enemy, or the dark magic, they can win. They will win.

No guild is quite like the Order of Hermits. Apart from being illegal, they’re a mix of just about every kind of magic. A healing mage like Grian can stand side by side with Cleo’s underworld magic, no set skill required on requested. Varying strengths train side by side, not separated from better or worse. They all have something to learn from each other, even the strongest S-Class can be surprised by the newest mage. And often, Grian is. The magic is just as diverse as the people, the hermits that call Eremita home.

Training is cut short by a squall, appearing like magic and blowing across the Ashioll sea. Broiling grey clouds engulf the sun, and quickly send the hermits scattering into shelter. Well, most of them. The ZIT trio remained wrestling in the mud, and BDubs couldn’t help but join in.

Wels returns the chakram to False, a number of other hermits huddled around the blasting heat of False’s outdoor forge, nestled under the stone roof. Stress jumps back as an ember sparks out, nearly catching the trim of her robes. She rubs her exposed arms, the warm material of her fur coat wrapped around her waist. So much for the hot summer day.

Joe and Cleo have made up, and are plucking books from his library to read as the rain pours down, laughing as they watch Ren skitter away to his home, ears and tail tucked.

Xisuma sits at a window, looking out across the clouded green sea from his tower. He chose the Ashioll sea for a reason to make this his home. To start a guild here. No one else dared called these waters home. Old magic, magic so wild and arcane that not even the kiplings can control, residing here in these waters. Merchant vessels and battleships avoid the sea, and even the hermits don’t have every island mapped out. Though Grian and Xisuma are working on it. The sea was their safe haven, the island their home.

Xisuma turns his head, glancing at the white envelope on his desk. The yellow seal bearing a sun remains unbroken. He’s not ready to think about his brother. He knows he could have valuable information, and is likely concerned about him, but he can’t bear to open the letter today. He turns his head back to the storm, watching lightning streak across the sky, smelling the scent of the void left behind by the bolts. He doesn’t need his brother- he has his own family, right here.

They’ll do this, without Ex.

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kauriart · 4 years

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Sunshine in the Dark Chapter 4: Savor

A NSFW Dragon Age fic | Alistair x Bethany | Read it on AO3

It is three weeks to the day when the darkspawn attack.

Bethany wakes in the dead of the night with a lighting bolt of awareness clanging in her brain. The sharp, discordant shapes of dangerous things moving across her mind.

Alistair is already awake, rolled up onto his hands and feet, expression stiff and hard-mouthed, confirming what she already knows — how does she know?

“Darkspawn,” he hisses.

Alistair moves with a swiftness rarely found in men of his size, and is armored and armed before she finishes fumbling with her boots. He whistles, the sound low and quiet, and the closest Wardens look up at once. He gestures hastily and they scurry off in separate directions, beginning some sort of battle formation. Then he turns back towards Bethany, snags her neatly around the collar, and starts to haul her to her feet.

He fumbles around in the pack round his waist, and comes up with a handful of something that he promptly claps over her mouth.

Whatever it is sticks unpleasantly to the roof of her mouth as she chews, but she manages to swallow, and begins to shove herself into her armor. But she’s stiff fingered with dread, and fumbles her breastplate. It drops to the stone floor like a jangled, broken bell.

Discordant.

Disastrous.

She can feel the dangerous shapes of the darkspawn that lurk in the back of her mind, rush forward towards the sudden sound, jittering with excitement. Whatever is happening, she’s just made it worse.

Alistair hisses through his teeth, fingers working at the fastenings of her armor. Strapping her in with a sort of desperate efficiency. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

Bethany couldn’t agree more.

He squeezes her hand once, tight through the leather and greaves, and snags the shield still on the ground. He looks to the other Wardens, forming in three tight knots, and then back to her. Anguish and fear shivers across his face for a moment before his expression solidifies. “Stay close to me.”

“Alistair, if I die and you haven’t kissed me, I’m going to be very cross with you,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

He blinks at her, startled, then snags her round the waist with his sword arm, tugging her suddenly close, and presses his mouth to hers.

It is a little thing, as kisses go. Brief, and warm, and soft as the sunrise. And she thinks her heart might burst with happiness.

“There,” he says a little breathlessly, “but don't think you can die on me now, Bethany Hawke.”

“I love you,” she sighs, because she does.

The confession slips out easy as breathing. And it's probably a terrible thing to say when they are three heartbeats away from being beset by a darkspawn horde, and it makes Alistair look a bit like she's just gutted him.

But, well… it’s true.

And she can't be sorry about it.

About any of it.

And the magic is right against her skin, light as a soap bubble. And easy. And good. The way magic ought to feel, like a living extension of her own body. She casts a barrier around Alistair. The air around him glitters with magic, gold-speckled motes clinging to his hair.

Alistair blinks, expression still staggered. “What?” He croaks. “You— Beth, I—”

But the rest of what he says is swallowed by the sudden rush of armored footsteps and the hiss-snarl of darkspawn voices, as a wave of the creatures comes rolling into the open space at the end of the tunnel.

What she knows of darkspawn she learned from her family's terrible, tragic flight from Kirkwall. From her brother's death. From Wesley’s death. From watching peasants and soldiers flee the advancing horde. It's what you do when the darkspawn approach — you run, or you die. And Bethany has seen people trample each other to escape the darkspawn, but she has never seen this.

The darkspawn break against the first knot of Wardens; the team under Stroud's command. She can hear the impacts of bodies as they slam against the Warden Commander's enormous shield, the rake of claws on metal and the shriek-scream of darkspawn meeting swift and vicious ends. In this the Warden's work in perfect synchronization. Hacking away with an emotionless focus that speaks only of routine. There is no fear. No triumph. Only the simple task of death-dealing. Only Wardens at their duty.

Bethany has no such experience. Panic, rage, and elation bounce around inside her — for no matter her fear, she feels a savage joy at each darkspawn the Wardens fell.

One less darkspawn. One less terror stalking the night. One less. One less. One less.

With each darkspawn that falls, perhaps there is a sister somewhere who gets to keep her brother.

And then the darkspawn flood the clearing, and there is no time for distraction. Each cluster of Wardens is drawn into battle. Bethany’s group loops her into the center of their formation, keeping her from direct conflict with the darkspawn.

She focuses on defensive spellwork — maintaining this many barriers across an ever-shifting battlefield is difficult enough, and to her the darkspawn seem like and endless writhing mass.

The battle ebbs and flows as the Wardens gain, and lose ground in turns. They’re holding overall, Bethany thinks, slowly pushing the darkspawn to the edge of the clearing. Slowing tearing their way through the mass of them. But it is brutal, wearying work.

In front of her, Alistair slips a bit and swears breathlessly as he regains his footing. The ground beneath them is becoming precarious. Slick and uneven, littered with the remains of fallen darkspawn, and pieces of rotting armor and weaponry.

Stroud is like a beacon for his Wardens, bellowing clipped orders across the battlefield, the formations shift and reform at his command. They press forward in a brutal attack that leaves a trail of dead darkspawn behind them.

Then all around the clearing the Wardens sort of freeze up all at once. A half-second hesitation that rolls across them all like a wave, like a stutter in time. And then Bethany feels it — huge and hulkling and more menacing than anything she's ever felt. As if dread was given physical from, and set loose upon the world, and—

Oh god oh god—

—it comes barreling out of the darkness, scything through the Warden formations, sending everyone scattering.

Bethany freezes, horrified.

An Ogre.

Just like the one that killed Carver. Tall as a building, and hulkling with muscle and a huge rack of twisted horns. It has something rotting caught in the crest of its armor, and it smells like horror and death and behind it Lothering burns, and people are screaming in the distance, and her mother's cries are shrill and terrified, and she has her fingers in her fucking hair doesn’t she? — didn't she?

And Carver steps between her and certain death.

Only it’s— The man before her has nearly three inches on her brother, hair sparking copper in the dim torchlight. Broad-shouldered. Stalwart. Shield in hand.

Alistair.

And she will be damned if she stands by while someone she loves is taken from her again.

All at once her magic rises up inside her, against the flimsy dam of her control, and bursts out in a flare of blue-violet light.

The ogre's head swivels in their direction.

Alistair turns, eyes bright with fear. “Bethany! Don’t—!”

But she has her brothers’ frenzied courage after all, and for the first time in the whole of her life, she need not worry about restraint.

She charges the creature, the light from her staff flaring with blue-fingers of electricity. Waves of magic buffet off of her, pushing Alistair out of the way as though caught up in her current.

A boom-flash of energy lights up the space, casting terrifying, distorted shadows against the walls. The full force of the spell catches the ogre square in the middle, but the creature hardly even breaks stride.

The ogre is quicker than it looks. It grabs her, fist clenched tight around her middle, fingers thick as belt buckles, and lifts her bodily off her feet.

Just. Like. Carver.

And something inside Bethany cracks wide open.

There was a reason the Gallows still whispered of Malcolm Hawke. It wasn’t because he escaped. It wasn’t because he turned a Templar from the Order. It wasn’t because he married the Amell heir. It was because he was terrifying.

Some bloodlines run too close to the fade.

Magic has always been at the bottom of every breath Bethany has ever taken. It’s why she always had to fight so hard not to let it show.

Flame and frost are easy enough. So is lightning. But it's force that comes most naturally to her. Raw power that wastes no effort on elemental vanity. Just will and fury and nothing more.

The ogre raises her to its mouth, teeth like blunted axes strung with black saliva, and below, Alistair is just unhinged, screaming, hacking away at one of the ogre's legs. She can feel the small spawn ricocheting into him, through the barrier she cast. He shrugs them away with his shield, panic lending him a terrible sort of strength. And for a moment the world just stills, going slow and strange and quiet, and she can see it all — the desperate tears on Alistair's cheeks, and the way Stroud has shouted himself hoarse, how Runsk is down to a single axe, and Briggs is on one knee in a puddle of red — and the ogre's massive teeth part in slow motion to bite her in two, breath gusting against her, hot and foul and furious.

The ribbon in her hair breaks, dark curls fluttering away from her face.

And then she shoves — all the promise of her bloodline, all her terror, and rage, and grief, and guilt, and a lifetime of swallowed spells — she shoves it all, as hard as she can into the soft palate of the creature's mouth.

Fist of the fucking Maker.

And the ogre’s head explodes.

And just — Ew.

(Later, she will remember to thank Andraste that she’d had her mouth closed when it happened.)

The sound is worse than anything, like a burst melon, half-hollow, half-squish. It’s spine shudderingly awful enough that it cuts through most of the rage still thundering through her. Especially when the beast begins to collapse in slow motion, still clutching her. She ought to have thought this through a bit better, because now she’s probably going to be crushed to death by its headless corpse, which is just… really unfair.

But she still has a barrier around herself, weak, shaky thing, so she doesn't snap her spine when she hits the ground, but her elbow still bends in a direction it definitely wasn’t meant to go. The pain of it is so lancing that her lungs seize up and she hardly makes a sound. Just a soft little ah, as agony bursts into her like a lightning bolt.

She can feel the startled panic that spreads through the horde, fast as fire. Robbed of their leader the rest of the darkspawn scatter like fish in a pond. One bolts directly towards her, but before she can even think to wrench herself out of the way, a sword punches clean through its chest. Alistair is behind the creature, eyes still bright with a berserk fury. He splits the thing in two, sword wrenching horribly from its sternum up through the top of its head.

“Nnh! Beh—” For a few heartbeats Alastair can barely speak, jaw clenched as tight as a fist. He is trembling. Black blood all down one side of his face. Then he drops his shield with a clang and pulls her against him, hanging on as though his legs can barely support him. “Beth… Maker… I thought—” He presses his forehead against hers. “You were screaming the whole time. Screaming. Screaming. I thought… I t-thought— ” His voice breaks on a sob.

Her arm goes up around him, fingers on the side of his neck where she can feel his sweat and his skin, and his heart tripping over itself with terrified relief.

“Alistair…”

“Don’t ever do that again Beth, please? I—” His voice is suddenly muffled as he presses his face against the curve of her neck. “Just don't. Don't.”

“Oh,” she breathes, as her magic rises up with a sigh, covering him, touching him everywhere her fingers can't. And though she’ll never be even half the healer Anders is, she can feel her magic spilling out of her, buoyed by Alistair's love — Love. How extraordinary — and she knows he loves her, as certain as his freckles and his kind smile. It isn't possible to have secrets when his skin is all lit up with her magic, and she can feel every beat of his heart, every breath, every shifting emotion.

And she thinks he's loved her all along, from their first hello, and has been trying so hard not to let it show.

And all she can feel is the joy of it.

The pain in her elbow and her ribs dissolves in a warm green rush.

She can feel the other Wardens at the edges of her consciousness, prickly in all they places they've been hurt. But her magic flows like water across the clearing, touching them. Mending where she can, easing where she cannot.

But Alistair doesn’t even notice, he holds her face in his hands, brushing sweat and blood and damp black curls away from her eyes. “Are you alright, Beth? Truly?”

She nods.

He leans against her with a sigh of relief so profound for a moment she thinks she'll buckle under the weight of him. But he tucks an arm beneath her to keep them both upright, and holds her against him.

She drops her head against his shoulder, suddenly exhausted.

The rest of the Wardens look as tired as Bethany feels. Even Stroud seems unsteady. He has a solid streak of blood from his eyebrows to his collarbones.

“Well Hawke.” Stroud says, and wipes at himself with the back of his hand. “From where I'm standing, it looks like that brother of yours rather undersold your abilities." He takes in the ogre's corpse impassively, and the rest of his Wardens, battered and bruised, but whole. "Warden mages," he mutters to himself, "rare as dragon bone, and twice as valuable.”

***

They leave the battlefield as quickly as they can and walk for a while. Alistair keeps his arm at her waist and she leans against him a bit, until they’ve staggered far enough away that Stroud signals for them to rest. Alistair starts shoveling food into her almost as soon as she sits down. She isn’t hungry, but she manages to eat a little, though she thinks she keeps falling asleep between bites.

Stroud moves through the battered group of Wardens pressing a hand to each one, ensuring for himself that everyone is safe and whole. Alistair lingers at her side, uncharacteristically quiet.

The thing about being so low on mana, Bethany finds, is that it cuts through some of the worst effects of the joining. Presumably she can still sense Darkspawn — and annoy Orlesians — but for the first time in weeks she isn't ravenously hungry, or crawling out of her own skin with lust. And it's… nice, she finds, just being her. She never wanted to be her, not really, not entirely. A her without magic, yes, all normal and neat and of no danger to her family.

But now the magic feels settled onto her bones in a way it never did before, and she’s just…

... content.

It feels easy now, and it never did. And she wonders what it is that shifted inside her.

“You need to eat more,” Alistair mumbles to Bethany, but he doesn’t move, sitting close, long legs neatly tucked against her.

“I’m all right,” she assures him, voice quiet. “I promise.”

Alistair closes his eyes.

They don’t stop for long. Stroud calls for them to march, pressing deeper into a city that winds on and on and on. They pass by an orchard, filled with rows of squat trees, branches heavy with fruit. Alistair props them up against one of the trunks, before he turns towards her, head against her shoulder, and falls promptly asleep.

The eyelashes resting against his cheek are dark and surprisingly long. She doesn't know how she hadn't noticed before.

Alistair isn't the only Warden to succumb to exhaustion. Most of them are piled in companionable heaps throughout the orchard, dozing. Lip is snoring loudly enough that he nearly drowns out Briggs and Runsk bickering about how much of a finger Briggs had to lose before he can rightfully claim it was bitten off by a darkspawn.

"More than that," Runsk insists. "You've still got most of the nail. I once saw a Warden lose an entire hand. That's a nibble, that is. That's an insult. You must taste like proper shite, my friend."

And Bethany laughs. Feeling lightheaded and lighthearted. Giddy with victory, and suddenly brimful of affection for them all, this little blue-coated family.

Halfway across the orchard, Stroud meets her eyes, taking in Alistair slumbering at her side, and the way his fingers are tangled with hers — Alistair has barely broken contact with her since the battle ended.

Stroud gives her a thoughtful look, and an approving nod. The droop of his mustache makes it hard to see if he's smiling; but she thinks he is.

***

When they stop for a third time, they are miles away from the battlefield, and tuck themselves into a low-ceilinged cavern a little ways away from the road. There's a spring there, with a series of little pools, the water, deep and dark and steaming.

Alistair steers Bethany towards one of the pools in the back, with a group of squat, sparse bushes that offer little in the way of privacy. But she finds she doesn't mind. The effects of the joining are dampened — the hunger nearly gone, and the desire is there, mellow and warm, but not demanding — but her connection to the other Wardens remains sharp as ever. Little bursts of bright awareness in the dark, like stars strung all over the night sky.

Bethany runs a hand up the side of her breastplate, where the ogre's claws raked shallow lines into the silverite. "I suppose I'm a proper Warden now,” she muses.

Alistair eyes the marks with a clenched jaw, and doesn’t reply. But he helps her with the buckles of her armor, setting each piece carefully beside the water’s edge, though his own he simply chucks into a pile at his feet.

He pulls off her gloves, one by one, skimming his fingertips up the inside of her exposed wrist. “I can’t stop shaking,” he says, finally, and starts to fumble with the row of clasps at the front of his blue surcoat.

Her hands are shaking too, from mana depletion, as much as the aftermath of adrenaline, and when she tries to work open the fastenings on her own coat, she can’t manage them. A tiny line appears between Alistair's brows when he reaches to help her.

Her coat is heavily stained, more black now than blue. Alistair's hands tremble as he works each of the buttons on her coat open, before helping her out of it. She’s still entirely decent, clad in tunic and breeches and boots, but Alistair seems unsteadier, breath all frayed at the edges. His thumb drags across the length of her collarbone.

“You don’t mind anymore... touching me?”

“Mind?” He stares at her for a moment, expression tender. “Maker’s breath, love.” A crease appears between his brows, and for a moment she’s afraid he’ll pull back, but he reaches up to cup her cheek, thumb just beside her mouth. “I don’t think I can bear not to anymore.”

She tucks her head, and kisses his palm, brief and chaste and Alistair shivers. Then she reaches, and very deliberately untucks his tunic from his breeches.

Alistair takes a ragged breath.

She slides her fingers beneath the hem, finding warm skin that breaks out in goosebumps at her touch. Her fingers twist, catching at the fabric, tugging it off him as he raises his arms up, bending down a little so she can pull his shirt off entirely. She drops it at their feet.

The style of her tunic is a little different. There’s a tie along the neckline, done up into a long-eared bow. His hands shake a little as he reaches, pulling carefully until the knot comes undone. The front of her tunic gapes a little.

“Your ears are very red,” Bethany observes.

“Yes,” he agrees unselfconsciously, and tugs her tunic out of her breeches and over her head in one easy motion.

The air is cool against her bare skin.

Alistair tips his forehead against Bethany's and lets his breath out in a tiny sigh.

She has an enormous bruise across her middle, where the Ogre had gripped her. Magic can heal the hurts, but it can’t always erase all the damage once it’s made; not from a healer of her caliber anyway. Alistair bears his own marks from the battle; a set of bruises on his shield arm, and another on his shoulder, nearly star shaped, earned in the last minutes of fighting.

But they are gentle with each other. And slow. As if this is something to be savored. As if they have all the time in the world as they undress one another — barely touching each other with the tips of their fingers. Undoing belts, and buckles with a careful reverence.

There is no graceful way to help each other out of their breeches and boots, but they manage well enough. Though the blush creeps steadily down the side of Alistair's neck and halfway across his chest. The hard length of his cock stands out from his body.

“The quiet doesn’t keep,” Bethany says. The corner of her mouth crooks up.

“I know," he gives her a wry smile and one last, heated look, and leads her into the pool.

The water is blissfully warm. Bethany makes a sound of deep gratification that definitely makes Alistair’s ears go pinker. He dunks himself entirely, and comes up again with a gasp of breath, shaking the water from his eyes.

He helps her wash her hair first thing. Fingers combing gently through the strands. Even wet it still retains a loose and lanky wave.

"You've the loveliest hair," he husks, winding a damp curl around his finger. His voice is low and reverent, with a hushed sort of devotion. “The loveliest everything, really."

She tucks her cheek against his palm.

"I… Beth,” Alistair looks at her through the fringe of his wet bangs.

And he's no mage but he just makes time stop—

Oh Maker, he’s so beautiful.

— the world going still and quiet beneath his soft brown gaze. And maybe they stand there forever, lost in each other and the beauty of the pools. She wouldn’t mind at all, spending her life just looking at him. His hair wet and dark against his neck, rivulets of water running down the wide span of his shoulders. The way the muscles of his chest move as each breath grows more and more ragged.

“Oh bugger,” he mutters, and reaches for her.

His hand finds her hip beneath the water, and tugs her closer. Close enough that her breasts brush against his chest. She can hear the tiny catch of his breath and her mind all but blanks, overwhelmed by his sudden nearness as much as his nakedness.

“Alistair...”

He tilts her chin gently upwards, voice all husk. “Bethany…”

She raises up on her toes, and he bends his head, and they meet in the middle with a kiss that is more like a promise kept than one broken.

“What about the rules?” She whispers against his mouth.

He kisses her for another solid minute before pulling back with a groan. “I can't— Maker take the rules, Beth, I want—” The rest of what he says is muffled against her lips as he leans in to kiss her again.

And again.

His knee slides between her thighs, pulling her against him until there is not even an inch of space between them. Not a hairsbreadth.

“If you don't— I won't— Beth... Beth tell me— If— I'll stop, I'll never— Please…” He pauses kissing her only long enough to drag his mouth alongside her neck, pleading breathlessly against her skin.

She grabs his head, angling his mouth back to hers. But there was a question in there, desperate and inarticulate and a little panicky, and the last thing she wants is for him to regret this tomorrow.

Or ever.

“I don’t want you to stop," she breathes.

He makes a groan that fractures in two, and reaches a hand down between them. For a moment she expects to feel the familiar touch of his fingers, but instead it’s the hot, blunt tip of his cock that he presses up against her.

“You— you’re sure?” He asks. The plea in his voice is obvious, and the tears stand out brightly in his eyes.

“Yes,” she wraps her arms around him, nodding, trying to shift herself against him, trying to make him understand. “Yes Alistair, please.”

He shudders, and presses forward.

But she’s near weightless in the water, and all he ends up doing is pushing her away from him in slow-motion.

Alistair swears, and gives an awkward sort of chuckle, and Bethany feels a fizz of laughter rise through her, because everything about her life is ridiculous.

And wonderful.

For the first time, it’s wonderful.

Bethany kisses him again, delighted.

He hooks his hand beneath her knees, and lifts her, wrapping her legs carefully around his waist. He carries her to the back of the pond, where the rock rises dark and slippery with bioluminescent algae. She can feel the hard stone at her back, and Alistair’s heat pressed all along her front — hard there too where his cock juts against her belly.

Alistair breaks the kiss, and grins. "Shall we try that again?"

“I love you,” she breathes.

“You— what?” He’s looking at her exactly as he did the first time she'd said those words to him, shocked, and startled, his heart cracked wide open with longing. “I… I thought I'd just imagined… Beth, I—” He shakes his head, dropping suddenly speechless.

“I love you,” she says again, watching as the world roll over him with that same tremulous, tender joy. A man who has been given something he desperately wants, but doesn’t believe could ever belong to him.

“I can’t — Beth, I’m not supposed to — but Maker you must know by now… how I feel.” He brushes a damp curl behind her ear. “Even if… if you…” He shakes his head, not able to say it.

But Bethany slips her hands around the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together. “I can’t feel it now. The joining. I haven’t felt it since the battle. None of this is going away, Alistair. Not for me. Not ever.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just presses his mouth against hers, edged with a sweet sort of desperation.

She can feel his hand between their bodies as he notches them together, and the sudden surge of his hips. A stretch. A slide. And he's inside her.

Alistair makes a broken sound, half rasp and half husk. And she makes one to match.

He's perfectly still for a moment, trembling, breathing harder than he had at the end of the battle. Dragging air into his lungs as though he'll drown if he doesn't.

She presses an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, and he makes another noise like she's gutted him.

They're still for long moments. Touching. Tasting — though Bethany still can’t taste. Content to be connected. Wrapped up in each other, and the quiet intensity of it all.

Then Alistair buries his hands in her hair and slides himself out, slowly, slowly, slowly, before pressing back in. Presses his mouth against her, and she can’t tell if the wet on his cheeks is water, or tears, or sweat, or a little of all three.

She tries to tell him she loves him again, but the words tangle into sighs, into broken bits of sound with no clear meaning. So she hangs on, riding him. Ruined by him. The brutal tenderness overwhelming everything.

Her breath catches on a sob.

Alistair's hips surge through the water, steady and certain. And for all the nights she's spent wrapped up in her own desire, imagining this very encounter, this — now — is a hundred, thousand times better. She can feel him under her hands, shivering, shaking; hear the catch of his breath, and the whispered praise that tumbles from his lips.

She hangs onto him. Soaring. Drowning.

Alive.

And while the desire isn't rending her apart as it had the first time he'd touched her, it still floods her senses. A solid coil of heat in her belly that makes her skin feel tight and hot. And maybe it's the warmth of the water making her dizzy and overwrought and—

“Maker, Beth,” Alistair husks.

Her eyes flutter open, and she swallows back the low keening sound she'd been making.

Maker, if she looks at Alistair now….

He tips her chin up. “Look at me, Beth.” He husks, panting. “I want to see your face when you come. I’ve never seen… Please, love, please.”

She does.

He keeps his eyes on her as she falls apart. Greedy for the sight of her. Her orgasm is different than before, low and fierce as thunder. His, is only a heartbeat behind.

He nearly shouts her name as he comes. And staggers, nearly tipping them both into the water. Bethany hangs on through the aftermath, Alistair’s breath harsh against her cheek and little bursts of starlight behind her eyelids. He braces both hands against the stone behind them.

"That—" Alistair gasps, “that—”

Bethany smiles against his skin. “Maker be praised,” she suggests.

“Oh, absolutely,” he chuckles breathlessly, and kisses her.

4/5 …… Read it from the beginning

#Dragon Age #alistair theirin #bethany hawke #alistair x bethany hawke #bethistair #my fic #endless eyebrow waggles #This is now officially a five chapter fic #just fyi

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blog-sliverofjade · 3 years

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Of Doms & Subs 9: Rock and a Hard Place

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary: What’s a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 1905

Of Doms & Subs Master List

Getting slammed by four hundred pounds, give or take, is painful no matter who you are. Being caught between this freight train of flesh and a stone wall, such as the one surrounding the grill setup, is taking the term “between a rock and a hard place” to its most agonizing extremes. Once the tweety birds spiraling my head dissipated, Alan and Mickayla filled my gradually returning vision. Angus stalked off to go bash some heads together, judging by his face.

“Anybody get the number o’ that Mac truck?” I groaned, my accent thick from the pain that was already setting in. Where’s shock when you could really use it?

“Can’t be too bad if she’s making bad jokes,” Mickayla said to Alan. Then to distract me from his poking and prodding, she said with a roll of her eyes towards where I assumed Ian and Gordon were. “They’re just like teenage boys when they’re trying to show off.”

“There’re easier ways o’ getting’ my attention. ‘Hey, you’ works fine.” I hissed through clenched teeth when Alan inspected my shoulder. “Dislocated, probably torn rotator.”

“Amongst other things,” he agreed mildly as he did something that should have been a violation of the Geneva Convention. “Couple of cracked ribs, mild concussion. Ever dislocated anything before?”

“Nope, but’s gonna hurt like a mother.”

Alan nodded to Mickayla and before I could react, they set the joint back in place with a sickening crunch. The world swam in a nauseous haze, but I didn’t pass out. Woo!

“Lemme know when I can return the favour,” I groaned. “In spades.”

“The rotator’ll heal on its own in about a week. Compared to months for a human.” Let’s hear it for regeneration. “But your scapula’s split, and even if your joint’s set, your shoulder’s still messed up.”

“That the medical term, doc?”

“Recovery will still take weeks. If you shift, you’ll heal faster.”

“No.” I shook my head too fast and the world wobbled.

“Tell me, is this normal?” Alan carefully lifted my right, injured arm. Around the blinding agony I dimly hard disturbing sounds that should be coming from a cereal bowl instead of a person.

“Fuck all ya’ll,” I panted when I could breathe again.

“No thanks,” he said blandly. “Cute as you are, I don’t want to fight the others over you. The longer you take to shift, the more you’ll heal wrong.” We both knew that improperly healed rotator cuffs are a bitch and can take a year or more of PT to correct. That’s not even taking into account complications from broken bones knitting without being set right. Logic and experience said that he was right. The only problem was that the wolf wanted to come out and play too much. And there were too many humans. Pain and panic, exacerbated by the wolf coming to the fore, paralyzed me till I could only shake my head faintly.

“Don’t make me use the Dommy voice,” Mickayla said sternly. I opened my eyes to let her see the fear that chilled me. Or maybe that was finally shock. Could werewolves go into shock?

A pair of familiar suede loafers stood at the edge of my vision. A moment later Angus crouched to fill my field of vision, which was threatening to narrow again. “Ellie, stop this nonsense and shift.” There was no power other than the natural force of his personality, but the order allowed me to stop worrying. His casual tone of authority reminded me that they would keep me from gorging on a human buffet instead of potato salad and burgers.

“Come on, you don’t need an audience for this.” Mickayla moved to help me up. Angus beat her to it, scooping me up in his arms so that my shattered shoulder wasn’t pressed against him. This unnatural strength still took me by surprise. Of all the places, he took me inside the house and downstairs where he set me on the edge of a bed. There were shining metal bars over the narrow windows set high in the wall. Pretty comfy digs for a cage.

“My safeword’s ‘apples’,” I panted as my body settled into its new position with no small amount of complaints.

“Good to know.” The dry bit of humour coming from Angus was so unexpected that I giggled and immediately regretted it when the motion rippled through my battered body. Alan and Mickayla helped me undress while Angus stood over us, a statue of controlled rage. I tried to protest the men’s presence, but was immediately shot down by all three. Resoundingly so.

“Please be gentle, it’s my first time,” I said tightly as they drew off my pants and underwear. You never realize how much you move any part of your body until it’s injured and you try to move it. Once I was naked, that was when I freaked out. “I can’t.”

“Sshh,” Angus said soothingly as he carefully held me against his chest. It was like a warm brick wall, but far more comfortable than the one I’d just been introduced to. My mind and hormones swung back and forth between embarrassment and pleasure at being naked in his arms until I sensed Alan crouching on the bed behind me. Damn, he still had to set the shoulder blade. I didn’t even have time to tense before his deft, quick hands crunched the pieces back into place.

After awhile I realized that Angus was saying my name and stroking my hair. “To shift you have to let the wolf take over. You’ll not likely have control, nor will you be able to change back for several hours. We’re going to have to lock you in so you don’t hurt anyone, or yourself.”

So many things had been spinning out of my control I wasn’t ready to relinquish any of it. But the wolf didn’t care. She wanted to come out and meet Angus and the pack. The instant I seriously thought about passing off the reins she seized the chance. I quickly closed my eyes not only because it hurt like a bitch, even worse than my short lived career as a wrecking ball, but because I couldn’t stand watching my own flesh ripple as muscle and bone crunched and reformed. I almost wondered if letting everything heal relatively slowly wouldn’t have been preferable.

They were making soothing noises and urging me to be quiet at first, then they realized I was cursing under my breath in between soft whimpers and whines. “Son of a mother biscuit eating cracker” made them laugh. You can’t curse in front of patients, even if they’re coding. Instead you get creative with alternatives to four letter words. At some point the torture ended and everything went black.

“What were you thinking?” To an outsider, my voice would be deceptively soft. Ian and Gordon, as did the rest of the pack, knew better. The two males knelt with heads bowed and necks bared. My wolf wanted to rend that soft flesh. They were dirty and still battered from when they were separated with more force than was strictly necessary, but was entirely appropriate. “I’ve known newly Changed wolves with better self-control than what you displayed today. If you had hit Moira instead, she could’ve lost full use of that arm.” They winced as my voice sharpened and cracked across them like a whip.

“Because of your stupidity, Ellie is undergoing her first intentional shift locked in the safe room after everything I’ve done to disprove the half-truths that crazy Lone fed her.” I leaned in close and whispered, “If she chooses to leave because of your idiocy, I’ll take it very personally.” Their already white faces blanched even further before I straightened.

“You will beg Ellie for forgiveness. You are her slaves for the next week. You are not to look her in the eye. I don’t want to see her lift anything heavier than a glass of water. If she asks you to jump, one asks how high and the other holds the hoop. You will wash, dry, iron, fold her laundry, and shine her shoes. You have one week to arrange for repairs to the barbecue. For the rest of the weekend, the two of you are on cooking and dish duties. The pack cars, Ellie’s Jeep, and my car could all use detailing. Oh, and I expect the house and grounds to be spotless by the end of the weekend.” They’d be so busy they wouldn’t have the time nor the energy to lose their heads again. And by working their tails off, everyone would be reminded that this was a warning for anyone else who might do the same.

“If the rest of you find yourselves at the mercy of your instincts, you will take it elsewhere and handle it in the usual fashion. If not, then you are a liability and will be dealt with accordingly.” I glared expectantly at the two boys, who were old enough to know better. They quickly muttered, “Yes, Alpha” before scrambling to their feet and scattering for one of the many tasks given. I desperately wanted to give chase and slaughter them for injuring what was mine.

I gave a brief nod to Tom, who acknowledged with a bow from the neck before herding everyone inside. Once everyone was gone, I stared at the broken bricks and patio stained with Ellie’s blood until Ian and Gordon approached hesitantly with a hose, soap, and stiff bristled brushes. I snarled at them as I strode back towards the house.

Alan was sitting in the armchair outside the safe room. A man with an impossibly large sword faced a dragon on the corner of the paperback he was reading. Only the delusional would fight something like that with a melee weapon. The alleged “hero” would be barbecue before he got close enough to swing that tool of overcompensation.

“Hey.” He set down the book and sat up from his slouch. “Passed out still, but she’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t hurt it again any time soon.”

“Thanks. Go on up. I’ll sit with her.” I scrubbed a hand through my hair and touched my pocket to ensure that my phone was there. Nervous habits that I’d never quite managed to shed.

“Sure thing.” Alan looked like he would offer to stay until he saw my expression. “Too bad they couldn’t spare the brain cells if you knocked their heads together.”

I smiled despite my murderous mood. That was the magic of a submissive, although I never felt calm around Ellie. Frustrated, annoyed, fiercely protective, half-crazed, yes. At peace, no. Then again, she had yet to feel entirely safe or comfortable since the Change.

“Alan.” He paused on the stairs. “Have Ian and Gordon bring down meat and water.”

“Aye, aye.” He’d been spending far too much time with Mickayla.

I settled into the chair and picked up the dog-eared novel he left behind. The main character had barely finished his backstory when Tweedledee and Tweedledumb placed their offerings in the safe room before locking it back up. Ian set a cup of coffee, two cream, on the small table beside me before slinking away. They stank of fear. Good.

The handsome, virile Chosen One had just met the feisty ingénue, who was of course a princess in hiding, when Ellie woke up.

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randaccidents · 4 years

Text

Stand for Nothing

And now for our normal scheduled shadow people fic! Except its not!

This fic sorta follows up on the scenario I laid down in Dealbreaker cause I just couldn’t leave it like that ok I am weak. Of course read Dealbreaker first but be careful cause uh the discord did not leave unscarred.

In other words, this won’t hurt as much.

TW: panic attack (but not as detailed as how I normally go)

Shadow People AU by @mine-sara-sp who I now owe many fluff fics

Credit to skybiome’s Knock me off my high horse for some of the stuff I referenced.

Cavalier visits Wels.

Standing on top of a hill, watching as the purple tower before him crumbled, Cavalier didn’t know what to do next. He sat down, staring up at the pitch black sky. It seems today even the sky didn’t know what to be, no sun nor moon rising to indicate the time of day to him, only deep unknowable darkness radiating out from the Empire’s central tower. It didn’t matter anyway; they had lost. Completely and utterly lost.

Shivering, Cavalier brought his knees to his chest in a hug. He didn’t know what had happened to Puzzler, or Tripwire or Red or Joyful or Russy or-

He tugged at the purple feathered favour wrapped around his chest. He could feel the feathers fraying and breaking, as though they knew their master was no more, only the centerpiece feather remaining pristine. Oh, he shouldn’t have run from the fight. He should have stayed. Even if he couldn’t do much, at least he would know what happened to the Empire. Now? Where could he go? Everyone knew he was part of the Empire. No one would give him safe haven for a while, not after everything they had done.

Who was he supposed to serve now?

A knight’s job is to serve the people, not the Empire. You fight because you don’t know what else to do.

The words that flicked through his mind were cutting, acid still as potent as the day they were said, but it gave Cavalier an idea.

Wels. He was the one who first gave Cavalier a purpose outside of Puzzler. He had a purpose outside any empire, a purpose that was still honourable and respectable despite how easily it could twist back to selfishness. And he was kind. If anyone knew what to do with him, it would be Wels. Climbing to his feet, Cavalier looked out over the horizon, steadfastly ignoring the now smoking ruins of the Empire behind him.

It had been a long while since he had seen the overworld. One day Puzzler, face indescribable, had told him that he was getting a new job before basically locking him within the walls of the Empire. Cavalier found himself wishing that he had found out what prompted such a sudden change from Puzzler. Surely Puzzler knew that he was better at running and scouting than smithing? Unless…

Shaking his head clear of those intrusive thoughts with practised ease, Cavalier located the landmark he had used the last time he had been to Wels’ base and took off, running away from everything again.

—————————————–

By the time he found Wels’ base, the black overtaking the sky had receded, sucked to a location behind him. The sun had almost entirely crossed the sky, casting shades of orange through the sky. It was almost exactly like the last time he was here, ready to collect Wels for Puzzler.

He shook his head. Focus. Paladin and those dangerous blue shadows live here too. He’d seen them enter and leave enough times while out scouting to know. Sinking into a nearby shadow, Cavalier slid up the walls to the decorative window on the top floor, skipping past the easier to reach spaces in favour of remaining undetected.

Reforming inside the house, Cavalier spared a singular second to wonder why Wels had so many shadow-friendly entrances spread throughout the house before he refocused on his goal. He had to find Wels before anyone else did. Sneaking through the halls, Cavalier made their way down a floor to Wels’ room.

Past the way too large central room, through the more normal sized corridor on the right, careful around the intersection turning downstairs, into the open common ro-

A burning line cut across his cheek, making him jump back in surprise, one hand on his cheek as the other reached for his sword. His eyes quickly swept through the room, taking in the situation to make a decision.

The room before him held two moving armour stands, both armoured and brandishing swords at him. The fire roared, casting large shadows across the room from the chairs set before it, disguising the aggressor before him. Not that it did anything, Cavalier could recognise that golden plume from a mile away. Although the lack of their blue additions threw him for a loop.

Another sword swung at him, forcing him to dodge. Oh he was so dead, Paladin found him first, they are not going to let him go that easily. Turning to run, Cavalier found the door blocked by solid iron blocks. He was trapped.

Thinking quickly, Cavalier slid up the wall. Reforming his head, he peered down at the room below. Paladin was looking up at him angrily, one hand gesturing at the armour stands. As Cavalier watched, the armour stands moved to stand next to each other, then merged into a slightly larger armour stand with a bow. Quickly ducking back into the wall to avoid being shot, Cavalier considered his options. By the looks of things, those armour stands were part of Paladin’s power, which meant it could hurt them. Paladin isn’t known to fight other shadows or go two dimensional either, so the upper walls were safest. He wasn’t strong enough to fight any shadow, much less one with a power. So he decided to do what he did best; run.

Scaling the upper walls, Cavalier cast about for an exit. He might not know the house well, but surely there was a pocket of space somewhere, right? Forming an arm, he felt around for something he could push aside.

He was so caught up in finding an escape that it was a surprise when an arm yanked him out of the wall. With a yell, he fell to the floor, dazed. The feeling of cold metal against their throat made them freeze. He let the sword lift his chin, forcing him to look Paladin in the eye. Paladin’s whole form was tense, ready to strike at any moment. Well, at least he tried. Cavalier closed his eyes.

Only the strike he was waiting for never came. He heard a sigh, and the metal left his neck. Cavalier cautiously opened his eyes to look up at Paladin, whose form had untensed into something more tired.

“Why are you here, Cavalier?” Paladin asked, voice just as tired as their posture.

Cavalier blinked. Was he being given a chance? Seeing Paladin’s gaze harden, he quickly answered, “I-I’m looking for Wels. He’s here right?”

That seemed to have been the wrong answer, judging by how Paladin’s gaze hardened rapidly into something angry. He cringed backwards, but was unable to escape Paladin’s grasp as they leaned down. He felt more than saw Paladin grab the center of their favour, fingers sliding beneath the feather that lay beneath and separating it from his body as they lifted him up. “You came now? After all this time? Do you not care for him at all, to wait so long to visit?” they spat at his face.

Cavalier barely heard any of that over the sudden haze over their mind. Words refused to form in his head or on his tongue. He needed the feather back. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against Paladins. He felt Paladin shake him. “Do you have no words for yourself?”

He couldn’t answer like this, he needed the feather back. He tried to force words out of his now useless mouth. “F-f-fe-f-” It was useless, he couldn’t do anything. Letting out a whine, he tapped Paladin’s hand instead.

To his surprise, Paladin seemed to get the message, dropping Cavalier to the floor. He quickly curled onto his side, hand cradling the disturbed center of his favour. The fog in his mind was immediately snapped clear, thoughts and words returning to him. “ABC, one two three four, my name is Cavalier I am a shadow I can speak I can think” he mumbled to himself, checking for any missing pieces of himself.

A hand on his shoulder sent him flinching away, clutching the favour closer to his chest. The hand didn’t leave his shoulder though, and he slowly untensed when he realised that he wasn’t being hurt. Uncurling to sit up, Cavalier looked up at Paladin.

“Are you feeling better now?” Paladin asked him, genuine concern in his eyes. Cavalier took stock of themselves. His mind was clear, his tongue light again, and he had his feather back. “Y-yeah…” he answered.

He watched as Paladin sighed, shifting to sit next to him. “So, want to explain why grabbing that favour made you panic?”

Flinching at the memory, Cavalier considered his options. On one hand, Paladin was the enemy. On the other, was there really an enemy anymore now that the Empire was gone? He guessed that he had nothing to lose by telling Paladin. “You grabbed my feather. I can’t think clearly or speak without it.”

“Why not? Surely you’ve died enough times.”

That elicited a flinch from him. The room was silent.

“… How many times have you died, Cavalier?”

Of all questions, they had to ask this one. He hugged his knees to his chest again, finding comfort in being smaller. “… 3 times in total.” he answered, embarrassed.

The response was as explosively shocked as he expected. “Only 3 times! You shouldn’t be able to- oh.”

Cavalier could feel the new understanding in Paladin’s gaze. He turned from it, uncomfortable at the feeling of being seen right through.

“… sorry I grabbed your feather.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t know.”

They sat in silence for a while, awkwardly unable to say anything else. Something about the whole situation felt a little off to Cavalier though, and he had to voice it. “Paladin, why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”

He could hear Paladin shift slightly. “I’m assuming Puzzler didn’t tell you, but it’s safer if we don’t have to be resummoned ever again.”

Cavalier turned back to look at Paladin, who had mimicked his position, knees to their chest. “What didn’t Puzzler tell me then?”

He could see Paladin take a deep breath they didn’t need, eyes no longer meeting his. Their words came out whispered, as if they still didn’t accept it as truth. “Wels is… gone.”

The world came screeching to a halt. “No.” That’s not possible, players always came back, right?

Paladin’s staunch refusal to look him in the eye was telling a different story however. “He’s not fully gone, but he certainly isn’t here anymore. And no one wants to see what happens if we are resummoned.”

Something wasn’t adding up. It was such a small thing, but it lit a stubborn flame of hope in his chest. “Not fully gone? And we can still be resummoned? That doesn’t make any sense. What really happened Paladin?”

Paladin flinched slightly, hugging their knees tighter to their chest. It made Cavalier feel a little bad, but he had to know. He dropped the intensity in his voice, asking the question again on a softer register. “Paladin, what really happened to Wels? As his other shadow I deserve to know the full truth too.”

Paladin uncurled slightly, hands moving to fiddle with the bracers they wore instead. “Did Puzzler tell you about the Vex?”

It was Cavalier’s turn to flinch now. Oh yes he did know about the Vex. Puzzler made it very, very clear what messing with the Vex would result in. Paladin seemed to have caught that, because they kept talking, words coming in a practised rush. “Basically, me and Wels had an encounter with the Vex last season that left us haunted by them every day since. A while ago, Wels made a plan to fix that. On my end, I had to make a contract with Abyss to remove the Vex. On Wels’ end, he decided to fight the Vex in their own game. He-” Paladin’s voice hitched, before the words shifted from practised monologue to emotional rapid, spiralling faster and faster. “He lost, and now he’s a Vessel for them, his soul or something is lost forever and he only remembers some things but its not really him and I should have stopped him I really should hav-”

Cavalier recognised spiraling thoughts when he saw it. He had them himself. Reaching forward, he wrapped his arms around Paladin, pulling them to his chest, all fears of being stabbed forgotten in the moment. Paladin for their part just clung to Cavalier’s chest, mumbling, shoulders heaving. “Shhhh, their just thoughts, they might be true or they might not, but you have to calm down.” Softly, Cavalier began to hum, rocking slightly.

Eventually, Paladin’s shoulders stopped moving, settled back into the standard straight line. They pushed themselves out of Cavalier’s chest, and he let them go. He watched as they discreetly wiped their eyes. “You know, that’s just like how Wels would stop me from panicking. You act so much like him, and you don’t even know him.”

That comment made Cavalier shift uneasily. It was true that they didn’t know Wels well. And now they might never have that chance. Paladin shifted. “You said you wanted to see Wels?”

Cavalier considered this, then nodded. Yes, he still wanted to see Wels, even if he couldn’t recognise him. Paladin stood, extending a hand down to him. He looked at it nervously. Paladin sighed. “Let’s go see Wels then. He might remember you.”

Hesitantly, Cavalier grasped the offered hand, being pulled to his feet. Paladin took the lead, moving to the door on the other side of the common room. Idly, Cavalier noted that the armour stands and iron blocks were no longer around, and that Paladin now sported two large swords and a metallic ring from their belt. He hesitated. There was nothing stopping him from running now.

But he also wanted, for once, to know. So he followed Paladin down the hallways.

Eventually, they came to a stop before a dark oak door. Cavalier could hear bells from behind the door. Paladin turned to face them again. “Fair warning, Wels… might attack you.”

“What?”

Paladin put a hand on his shoulder. “Like I said earlier, he’s mostly just Vex now. He might not remember you. So far, if he looks away or attacks you it means he doesn’t remember you, if he hums a song at you something in him remembers you, and if he just stares then you just have to wait and see what he does next. Oh and uh, if he starts hissing? Run.”

Cavalier’s mind spun from the sudden information dump, but they got the picture. Shakily, they gave Paladin a thumbs up. Paladin nodded, then stepped aside. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Cavalier balked slightly. “Wait, you’re not coming with me?”

Paladin shook their head. “He will focus on me if I come. This is the only way to know if it’s safe for you to visit him.”

… There was no real escape from this was there? If he wanted to see Wels, he would have to do it alone. Steeling himself, Cavalier opened the door.

He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a monster, maybe a Vex creature. Whatever it was, he most certainly wasn’t expecting to just see Wels, back facing him, happily playing with something in his hands. Sure, the wings were new, but nothing else really seemed out of place. Softly, they called out to him. “Wels?”

Wels’ head shot up, turning to face Cavalier.

Cavalier found himself pinned by an electric blue gaze. Ah, that’s what Paladin meant by ‘gone’. He had seen corruption from other entities first hand, he was Puzzler’s personal knight and scout after all. He had heard when Puzzler spoke to ‘the masters’. The light blue cracks, the wings, the bright blue smile, the striking blue gaze, all of it reminded him of Puzzler’s own additions.

And now that gaze was pinned on him. He swallowed the rising panic, shifting from foot to foot. He could feel the gaze follow his every move. Wels had yet to utter a sound, only the wings on his back fluttering lightly.

He felt a tap on his back, and moved to step clear of the door. The blue gaze followed him, even when Paladin stepped into the room.

“Has he done anything yet?” they asked.

Cavalier shook his head. The gaze followed the motion, like a cat ready to pounce. “No, just staring.”

“Then we just wait a little longer.”

Standing there, the full force of that blue gaze upon him, sounded like a terrible decision for his easily spiralling thoughts. He turned towards the door, ignoring Paladin reaching out to him. “I can’t stand here like that, it’s not good for me I’ll just g-”

“Badum-bum badum-bum badum-bum badum-bum”

He froze. And turned. He could see Paladin do the same.

Wels was smiling softly now, rocking lightly while humming, bells echoing through the space.

“Badum-bum badum-bum badum-bum badum-bum”

Cavalier could feel tears forming in his eyes. A hand on his shoulder caught his attention, and he turned to look at Paladin. “Do you recognise the song?”

Cavalier laughed, tears finally falling free from his eyes. “Recognise? That’s the song he sang that got me to talk to him in the first place!”

His heart felt light. Just enough of Wels was there, enough to recognise him. He felt Paladin nudge him lightly. “Well? I think it’s safe for you to sit next to him. Come on!”

With that, Paladin tugged him into the room, settling them down next to Wels. Wels seemed to perk up at that, humming growing louder, bells more melodic. Paladin was quick to join Wels in humming, adding another layer of sound to the song. Listening carefully, Cavalier found the starting point in the song for the lyrics. Hesitantly, softly, they began to sing.

“Hello, my old heart

How have you been?

Are you still there inside my chest?

I’ve been so worried, you’ve been so still

Barely beating at all”

Eyes closed, Cavalier let themselves lean into the song. They might stand for nothing now, but he found that it didn’t matter. This felt like family, this felt like home, this felt like somewhere he finally belonged. If only he had found it sooner.

#shadow people au #wels #cavalier #paladin #bad end wels #this is just picking up the pieces honestly #I wanna write the canon version of this too now haha #either way this is #very soft hurt much comfort #the wels collective is together now #yay #aight trigger tags time #panic attack #my writing #hey guys this is less hurty I swear

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supernova1us · 5 years

Text

My Bionicle G3 story breakdown

Aqua Magna is an ocean planet containing many islands, populated by biomechanical beings, primarily the matoran. The capital is the massive city of Metru Nui and from there, two godly beings, the spirits of light and shadow, emerge by the power of the mythical mask of life. They coexist together for a time, though the spirit of light is loved and revered by the matoran and the spirit of shadow is feared and despised. Shunned and jealous, the shadow develops a hatred for his brother which explodes into a life or death battle between the two. When the spirit of shadow is defeated, his being shatters and the 100 fragments regenerate as the makuta, a new race of powerful shadow beings. Another, inanimate fragment is found and forged into the mask of shadows.

The makuta become the loyal servants of light spirit, now called mata nui and serve as protectors and guardians of the matoran on each island for many years. The matoran show their appreciation by constructing protodermis armor to encase, strengthen and protect the makutas shadow forms. However, the makuta of metru nui, who has grown the closest to mata nui, is inevitably reminded of the unfair devotion shown for the light spirit. Jealous, he rationalizes that shadow should rule rather than light. He rallies his fellow makuta to follow him with his grand scheme to overthrow mata nui. And thus the “great betrayal” is set into motion as the makuta begin sowing chaos across the planet. Unrest and disharmony spread like wildfire under the makutas influence.

Worried and distracted with the state of the world, mata nui is unaware of the makuta gradually draining of his life force until it is too late. When mata nui is at his weakest, the makuta attack en-force. Finding his light cannot harm the makuta through their armor, mata nui dons the mask of life, recreating himself as a toa warrior, and with the 7 toa heroes of metro nui, battles the makuta. Though some makuta do perish, they are ultimately victorious as mata nui is wounded and sends the toa away to protect the matoran. Mata nui reveals that he foresaw such an event and prepared for it. Using the last of his power, he releases a burst of energy into the sky and reveals that the energy will one day birth 7 great toa heroes, powered by the very elements, to stand against the makuta. With that, mata nuis physical form perishes and his weakened spirit withdraws into the mask of life, which vanishes. The makuta leader, dubbing himself makuta nui, dispatches his brethren to seize control of the rest of the world.

With the end of mata nui heralding a series of natural disasters, the toa put all of the matoran into a deep slumber to protect them. Makuta nui confronts them, but having been wounded by mata nui and at risk of losing the battle, offers a bargain. He will rule the island and the toa are free to resist him, but neither he nor the toa will directly confront each other, but he will not directly threaten the matoran either; the toa reluctantly accept. 500 years pass, and the matoran finally awaken to metru nui in ruins and overrun by nature, and their toa protectors long aged into frail turaga elders. From the islands center, makuta nui sends out his corrupted rahi beasts and evil warriors to torment and keep the matoran in a state of fear and control. This continues for another 500 years until finally the energy mata nui released returns. The energy merges with the elements of the island themselves and creates 7 new toa heroes. These toa heroes must discover who they are, their elemental powers, how to work as a team and embrace their destiny in defeating the makuta and reawakening mata nui.

Characters:

Nikila-Toa of energy. She has power over lightning and any form of energy. She is the leader of the toa mata, and is the most mature, brave and heroic, with a tendency towards over confidence. Her tools are her lightning swords.

Malum-toa of fire. The largest, strongest and most hot headed of the group. He is arrogant, prideful and violent. He tends to clash with Nikila the most. His tools are his flame claws.

Hahli-toa of water. Generally kind and gentle while sometimes shy, she quickly gains self-confidence and is the most spiritual of the team. Her tools are a trident and protosteel talons/fins.

Pohatu-toa of Earth. He was the most focused and unwavering of the toa, though somewhat distant. He is wise and friendly when comfortable, but as fierce and unbreakable as nature when pushed. His tools were his enhancing foot attachments and his ruble shovels.

Matau-toa of air. The most free spirited and easy going of the toa, he always went with the flow like his element; A joker and explorer who was only serious when the situation was at its most dire. His tools were his stormorangs, which double as wings.

Krakua-toa of Sound. He could be considered the most open minded of the group, but only just barely so. He was never quiet or still for too long and was fascinated with all the sounds the world made. He is very fond of music. His tools were his sonic blade and his thunder bell shield.

Zaria-toa of metal. The most creative and sporadic toa, creating weapons, armor and anything new was his passion. He was the free thinker and craftsman of the team. His tool was his giant meta-hammer.

Makuta Nui- the main antagonist and self-appointed lord of the makuta, who distinguished himself from his brethren by wearing the mask of shadows.

Brotherhood of makuta-a group of wicked beings from across the world who serve makuta nui. Roodaka, nihdiki, krekka ahkmou and the rahkshi horde serve as his direct minions while tuma, sidorak, the visorak queen, kulta and the piraka serve as his allies/proxies on other islands.

Other important characters: mata nui, the makutas, turaga/matoran, Umarak-the dark hunter, taka-toa of light, umbra.

Obviously there are many similarities to g1, but there are many intended differences as well.

· the change to the toa mata members and element line up

· there have been other toa, but this special group are the first with elemental powers

· like g2, matoran are uniform beside colors and some exceptions

· there would not be multiple future toa teams, only a few special cases

· the makuta as a species had a mostly uniform look(based on g1 shadow titan), primarily as humanoid shadow forms incased in armor, save for some having other minor features(wings, spikes, weapons)

Story Arks

1. with shadow creatures controlled by makuta menacing the matoran, the newly born toa, who must discover who they are, defend the matoran, and learn how to work as a team, and finally fend off makutas shadow god form.

2. The toa set out to find the mask of time, and must race against the dark hunter to find it. They use its power to visit the past to see the beginning of the brothers war and how the island became what it was. The island is then attacked on two fronts: a bridge of web allows swarms of insectoids from another island to attack while makuta summons undead skull warriors from beneath the earth.

3. Makuta, still weak, sets his rahkshi hoard loose to menace the toa. The toa end up at makuta nuis lair at the center of the island, where part of metru nui still stands. They learn that makuta seeks the mask of life to regain his former strength and that it can revive mata nui as well. As the toa cannot defeat makuta, mata nui spirit bestows the rogue matoran Taka part of his light power to make him a toa who defeats makuta nui, almost killing him.

4. Taka is left to guard the island and matoran while the toa sail to Voya Nui, but are trapped in the underwater realm of some rogue aquatic makutas. When free they make it to voya nui and must fight both makuta members and Umbra, the mask’s guardian. After winning and receiving the mask, they return to metru nui to use it but makuta nui intervenes. Mata nui is nearly revived but makuta shatters the mask of life, the force of which destroys them both and sends fragments of the mask to 8 different islands. Makutas shadow form and mask survive and he flees and has a new armor built for him.

5. With mata nuis spirit lost and can only be brought back to life by the mask of life, the 8 toa must search the numerous islands, leaving umbra to guard metru nui. They set sail and split up, with each accompanied by a beast mount, a matoran squire and new adaptive armor, and explore their separate islands to retrieve the mask fragments while battling the makuta, or other enemy forces, on each one. After their separate adventures, each toa finds a fragment, which becomes a golden mask for them. Malum is seriously injured and in the fear that he may die, transfers some of his power to his matoran, jallar, who becomes a toa. In this time, makuta nui devises his grandest scheme, while also feuding with the rebellious makuta icarax and nearly kills umbra.

6. The toa reunite and make their way to Karda Nui to reform the mask of life and revive mata nui, fighting past the makutas and makuta nui himself, who takes Jallers’ mask fragment. The toa use the fragments they have and mata nui is revived, but still only as a mortal toa, since the mask was incomplete and the toa had absorbed some of its power while using the fragments. Malum is also healed. Nihdiki, a mutated former toa who has served makuta, chooses to betray him as his schemes have now cost the life of his partner krekka, and aids the toa.

7. The toa sail for the island the makuta are based on Nihdiki guidance but before they arrive, the island is shattered by a giant robot body that has risen from beneath the sea. Nihdiki says its construction was makuta nuis grand plan; becoming a god. Makuta has used his mask piece to fuse his spirit to the body and has trapped all the matoran within it. He also betrays and absorbs his minions save for a scarce few allies. As makuta rules the matoran within his body and decimates the other islands, the toa take weeks to make their way to the ruined metru nui, where he now stands to find a way to enter the robot. They end up confronted by the rest of the surviving makuta and their forces. They are joined by the allies they each made on their journeys and a massive war erupts. Krika, a repentant mukuta, leads them from the battle and shows them the way to enter the robot before returning to aid in the fight against his brethren.

8. The toa manage to enter makutas body, who is distracted, amused watching the war, and they fight their way through rahkshi, body defenses and makutas remaining allies to reach his heart. Toa Taka is forced to return a large portion of his light energy to mata nui, and he and jallar lead the matoran out to safety. The toa reach where makuta nui reconstitutes his normal form and they battle. Makuta is the stronger but mata nui is able to recover the final mask piece and is restored to his normal form. They battle but are to evenly matched, but with the help of the toa, he defeats makuta. Rather than destroy him, mata nui fuses the two of them together, killing both but creating a new spirit of light and shadow, who possesses the giant. With his power he restores metru nui, creates bridges between all the now restored islands and returns the toa and the mask to the surface before heading off into the stars.

#bionicle #toa #makuta

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laws-hat-headcanons · 5 years

Text

Right! So, after an amusing chat with @all-blue-headcanons a little while back about Arayya and Kid, I decided to write a little one shot for them. Like Law, Arayya never meets Kid on Shaboady (probably on the ferris wheel or something) so while this isn't their first meeting they dont really know each other in more than passing. I had a lot of fun writing this! Hope you guys like it!!

Eustass Kid X Arayya (oc): Pull

Kid snarled to himself.

He didn't know how he had ended up fighting alongside the Straw Hat pirates AND the Heart pirates but he didn't fucking like it.

The battle was raging all around him, hundreds upon hundreds of marines swarming the island to capture whichever members of the notorious crews they could get their hands on. And so an impromptu alliance had been formed in the face of the marine onslaught.

Privately Kid was pretty sure he and his guys could handle them himself. He didn't need Straw Hat or Trafalgar to help him - but he wasn't going to sit out a fight and let them take all the credit, so naturally his crew had been the first into the fray.

He'd lost track of Killer some time ago amid the press of bodies, but he knew his first mate well enough to know that none of the marine fighters here were a match for the Massacre Soldier. Heat was somewhere to his left because he kept seeing gouts of flame bursting out of the corner of his eye. Everyone else was a mystery though.

In front of him Kid saw the wall of marines part, making way for a single person wearing a long white jacket, the sleeves flapping behind them in the wind and he grinned. Finally someone fun.

The red haired pirate cracked his knuckles before pulling on his devils fruit power.

All around him people began to curse as their weapons lifted free of their bodies and came to him, smashing their way through the crowd to his side where they began to form a monster metal arm, bristling with swords and guns and any other scraps picked up along the way.

He pulled harder, reaching farther through the battlefield for more, relishing the sounds of screaming around him as the metal speared through anyone in his way.

But the screaming grew louder, and louder, separating itself from the crowd as one pissed off voice winging its way towards him. Kid turned his head to locate the noise, already annoyed by it. He had seconds to register the blue and grey blur hurtling towards him before it smashed in to him, sending him and all his metal debris scattering across the earth. Kid landed hard, his head bouncing off rubble and metal.

"Fuck," Someone mumbled, and Kid felt the pressure of a body across his chest shift. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

He groaned and forced his eyes open to find one of the Straw Hat women -Arayya- sprawled across him, grunting as she tried and failed to push herself up on to her knees, still cursing.

Blood dripped steadily from an open wound on her head, splattering on to his chest with a steady rhythm.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Kid snarls, black spots dancing in the corner of his eyes from the impact.

Arayya snaps her head round to look at him, murder in her eyes and snarls back, "Me? What am I doing? You're the one that dragged me half way across the fucking field!"

"I didn't-" Kid starts, but pauses as a Marine steps towards their awkward pile of limbs and metal, sword raised to bring it down on his head. Arayya's hand shoots out and she grabs the mans ankle, rolls onto her back across Kids chest and -with a grunt of effort- launches the marine headfirst into the seething crowd, still looking furious.

"You did," She says before he can continue, cursung in pain, still lying across him. "I have metal bones you donut. Felt like someone put a fish hook through my ribcage and yanked."

"Not my problem," Kid snaps, but he files that away for more consideration late and forces himself upright so that the woman drops in to his lap. "And next time watch where you're fucking going."

"There better not be a next time big boy," Arayya grumbles, using his shoulder to push herself to her feet, wobbling slightly. "Anyway, you should be thankful it was me that got catapulted into your lap."

Kid gives her his best frown and she smirks, running a hand through her hair.

"You could have got Franky! And he's a lot heavier than me... and not nearly as pretty!" She grins, offering him a hand up. Kid snorts despite himself and bats her hand away, dragging himself to his feet unassisted.

"Just stay out of my way," Kid tells her, already reforming his arm. He watches with concealed amusement as the blue haired woman grimaces, drawn to him even though he isn't pulling nearly hard enough to drag her in.

"No promises," She says, cracking her neck left, then right. "Hey, do you think you can throw me with that power of yours?"

Kid blinks at her and then shrugs, because it's not something he's ever considered before. Arayya grins, flexes her fingers and takes a step back.

"That way please!" She says, pointing back the way she had come. "Not too high though."

Kid doesn't bother to ask if she's sure. To tell her he has never done something like this before. She isn't on his crew, she isn't his problem, "Ready?"

Arayya nods, a grin on her face that shows too many teeth and reminds Kid of a wild animal. Quite unintentionally he finds himself returning the expression before he flexes his power and slingshots her across the battlefield, listening to the delighted sound of her laugh as she is sent flying.

Predatory grin still in place, Kid turns back to his own fight, a strange feeling in his chest - like someone has put a fish hook through his ribcage and pulled.

#one piece #eustass kid #eustass kid headcanons #kid #kid one piece #Arayya #wilder arayya #arayya one piece #oc #own character

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askmissjoker · 5 years

Photo

AKIRA’S PALACE.

For the last several months, I had a palace campaign developed for a group of rp friends. Now that the campaign has long since reached its completion, I figure I can show people everything I did in regards to it!

The palace was focused on Akira’s guilt for her friends deaths during her first timeline, as you saw from this ask. In the roleplay, Akira tried to take care of everyone in her group of ragtag friends but they kept getting into trouble and got hurt over and over again. She felt immense despair, slowly blaming herself for things not going right-- and eventually, gave birth to a palace where she was the prisoner, locked away by her own choice to protect everyone else.

Keywords:

Target: Akira Kurusu

Place of distortion: Cafe Leblanc

Distortion: Prison

Player characters:

Mona

Crow

Panther

Arsene

Oracle

Megiddo (a different male akira)

Map designs, original persona, and details under the cut

Entrance

The players found themselves standing on the street outside of Leblanc, everything looking pretty normal and standard-- expect for the building. In its place stood a blue building the colour of the velvet room and a tall metal fence that prevented them from progressing. Speaking to Lavaneza, who stood outside the real Velvet room’s door, told those who asked: "I do not have any methods nor information to assist you with, young trickster, for those who enter are already dead.”

Through some investigation, the players were able to find a broken piece in the surrounding fence. Someone clearly had been there before them, taking a literal sledge hammer to the metal and bending it upwards so the thieves can slip underneath and get inside. Two security towers loomed over the area, however one seemed to be damaged-- another indicator that they likely weren’t alone.

Floor 0-- The fool

After making their way into the palace and dodging out of the light of two search towers, they find themselves in a room that holds a strong resemblance to the velvet room. 3 cells each line the walls, labeled with a name plate and hand scanner: looking at them closely, the players can see that they hold the names of the Phantom Thieves: Ann, Futaba, Haru, Makoto, Yusuke, Ryuji... Is there a name missing?

In the center of the room is a huge hole covered by thick glass that allows you to see downwards to all of the palace.

The cell doors only opened depending on who the players had in their party. Since they had an Ann and Futaba, they were allowed entry into their respective rooms and spoke to the cognitions there. It was revealed that the cognitions weren’t of themselves, but of the Phantom Thieves’ Akira lost in her own timeline.

After exploring the two cells, Shadow Akira showed herself to the group, asking them to leave. The group refused, and she gave one of the players (Akechi), a folder with a keycard to progress further into the palace before she allowed herself to fall through the glass, descending to the floors bellow.

Floor 1-- The Chariot

On the next floor was two smaller towers with spotlights on them, shadows manning each tower on the lookout for intruders. The players sneaked past and took out each shadow, Akechi causing a small blackout after shooting his gun at a electric socket. The group also stumbled upon a treasure chest, retrieving a special sword for Akechi.

Making their way past a puzzle, they overheard shadows speaking to someone called Miss Kurusu-- Akira’s mother. Tricking these shadows, the group got the keycards needed to move on to the next floor.

Floor 2-- The Lovers

The group was starting to get worn out from their leader’s constant need to fight every shadow, so they took a small break to recoup as they weighed their options. They ended up making it further through the floor and found a large screen and two doors. A cognitive Futaba of one of the muses hacked through the feed to talk to the players--and they promised to meet up to exchange notes as it’s revealed there was a cognitive group of phantom thieves trying to get into the palace--the same friends Akira was trying to protect.

The group manages to solve a puzzle and get through to the next room, which is divided in half by a wall of glass.

In each room, there was shards of glass with masks painted on them--masks of the phantom thieves. However, when two members of the group went into the opposite room to try and get the rest of the shards, both exits locked and the room on the left began filling with water. Fun! That’s when they first met the Lupeux--a shadowy being with sharp white teeth that could melt into shadow. It almost took out the leader of the party, but when the group on the other side figured out the puzzle, it escaped to the next floor.

This is where the group took a break and returned back to the entrance of the palace to talk to the cognitions of themselves. That was a time LOL

Floor 3-- The High Priestess

On this floor, the players were given two options. Go through the first door, or go through the second door. First door was a puzzle involving tarot cards that ended up being unused, and the second door was a logic puzzle. Only thing is, that logic puzzle was 500% hijacked by a certain persona that the group let escape...

Fight: Lupeux

To be honest, the Lupeux wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal. In my concept writing, it was just another shadow--but I ended up going all out with it! Here’s a little excerpt:

Bullets lace into the mirrors, easily shattering any surface that comes into contact with the barrel of a gun. The cracks of the mirrors extend the length of the hall, growing in intensity before giving out and sending thousands of sharp shards flying. Not to be one left out, Mona draws his slingshot and joins the fray, aiding in the shattering of more mirrors.

Laughter fills the hallways as gunfire threatens to drown it out, however Lupeux is loosing places to play it's game. Distorted images of the Phantom Thieves don't even remain anymore-- only showing the backing wall that held the mirrors up. Bullet holes lay scattered across its surface, growing the cracks in the very foundation of the walls and leaving very clear exit marks.

"Here! Here! Let me help you!" It giggles, voice of Crow melting and shifting until it became almost unrecognizable.

All at once, the walls cave and crumble, remaining mirror walls left in shambles as everything falls to the ground. The group is left standing on the thin pathway, now exposed to the open air. All around them is only darkness, and a giant pit that leads downwards that you cannot see the bottom of. You can see the exit, now clearly visible and lacking any tricks, and the walls of the other path you could have taken very far away from you.

Lupeux is nowhere to be seen for a short while, though the darkness around the group shifts and bubbles as if it's alive. A long leg of shadow climbs out from it's depths, familiar toothy grin spiraling and clicking as it reforms in front of the group's eyes. A red, beady iris flickers and hones in on the group as it pulls more and more darkness into its body, consuming shadow in seemingly infinite supply. It perches itself on the other path, growing in size as time goes on, and laughs silently. The only way you're able to separate it from the backdrop of nothingness is it's sharp teeth that it clicks, as if in challenge.

Check out Quire’s art from the scene! It was fun tormenting them :))

Floor 4-- Justice

This floor was a Bit of a Time(tm). Two player characters ended up in some of the jail cells due to them almost dying, and Akira’s mom and Sae ended up talking to them. After a terrible roll in trying to knock Sae out (it was eventually successful) the united group went to the main room where a trial was said to be held. There they fought the midboss of the campaign, Akira’s mother.

Midboss:

Maragarethe [Null Curse. Resist gun]

way too many moves ngl. she just wanted to brainwash the party though

Akira’s mother was probably one of the concepts of the palace that never really changed? Her design remained the same throughout all my concept art and at this point it’s quite clear i have a certain Aesthetic haha. Those eyes especially were my favourite...

After beating her up, there was only a couple floors left.

Just a pretty empty foor--a transition to the next. In order to get through you needed a Morgana and Akechi in the party. Which, this group happened to have :)

Leblanc

After going through the prison the players opened the final door and... found themselves right where they started--inside Leblanc. Only this was clearly still a cognitive version of Leblanc, and had a lot of things about it that felt ‘off’. For one there were doors on the side, for another the windows were replaced with mirrors. Oh, and when the whole group went inside the Akechi of the group had a gun pointed at his head by Akira’s original Akechi. The one that died in her first timeline.

I’ll keep what happened a secret unless people asked, but the group secured the infiltration route and sent the calling card (it was an emotional time).

Boss floor

After the calling card triggered and the group was inside, they made their way to the treasure room (Leblanc’s attic). The treasure however was gone, and Shadow Akira found them, this time with her mask on.

The whole room collapsed around them, revealing a room no one could escape. And so, the fight began.

Boss Phase 1: Lady

Lady’s first phase was more on the easy side to handle--all she had to work with was a mirror of the personas I had originally played with during other campaigns. This meant she had a limit to what she could do, especially since I nerfed her early on with her persona choices. After being knocked down to around half health, she shifted into phase 2.

Boss phase 2: A̮̯̙̬͎͓̥̦̕r̡̖̩̩̣̲̪͢s̪̳̰̝̜̝͘͠ͅe҉͙̠̳͉̗̞̻̙n̡͉͘e̶̦̼̪͚?͏̪̭̀͞A͉̹̟͟k̶̟͖̟͈̩̼̰̞̯͟i̭͉̣r͔͓͠a̶̲͈̺͍͙

Phase 2 was rougher--I gave her a wide move pool with some original moves that if the group didn’t guard, they’d be automatically knocked down (and susceptible to an all out attack). Luckily that didn’t happen though! The group won, the treasure being Akira’s mask.

In the real world the treasure remained her mask, however in hindsight it should have been her original rounded glasses--since she only got her square ones in her second timeline, not the first.

Notes:

There were originally 7 floors planned, and I still have the designs for them! Each floor was based off of one of the PTs, but it turned out to be too long to reasonably go through in a campaign.

I have a book that is 30 pages of planning and plotting for this palace. I really wanted to make it personal to my players and to cater to their characters and give them content to allow them to explore sides of their muses they haven’t been able to do before. Because of this, I had several events planned just for each muse in mind. Not all of it got used in the end, but it was fun!

Some players had to duck out of the RP for their own health, so the palace was modified after their departure to accommodate such!

Original Shadows

Where would a Palace be without some exclusive shadows? Nowhere that’s what! All of these designs were inspired by french folklore and stories

Matagot [weak to bless, resist everything else ]

Inflict Fear (high odds) to 1 foe

Instantly kill all foes under Fear

Medium Physical damage to 1 foe 2x

Medium Physical damage and inflict Fear (medium odds) to 2 foe

Inflict confuse (medium odds) to all foes

Wolf [absorb curse, absorb gun]

Medium Physical damage to all foes.

Medium Physical damage and inflict Forget (low odds) to all foes.

Colossal Physical damage to 1 foe.

Red [Reflect Gun, Absorb Curse,]

17% HP

Severe Gun damage to 1 foe. High critical rate.

24% HP

Severe Gun damage to all foes.

12 SP

Heavy Curse damage to 1 foe

15 SP

Medium chance of instantly killing 1 foe

#persona 5 #p5 #akira kusuru #ren amamiya #persona #;Not this (not an ask)

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darkelfshadow · 5 years

Text

Session Summary - 58

AKA “The Maze”

Adventures in Taggeriell

Session 58 (Date: 9th February 2019)

Players Present:

- Rob (Known as “Oloma”) Human Female.

- Bob (Known as “Sir Krondor) Dwarf Male.

- Travis (Known as “Sir Lee”) Human Male.

- Paul (Known as “Labarett”) Elf Male.

- Sean (Known as “Shaemus”) Tiefling Male.

Absent Players

- Arthur (Known as “Gim”) Dwarf Male. <Played by Bob>

NPC

- (Known as “Naillae”) Elf Female. <Controlled by DM>

- (Known as “Nac”) Half-elf Male. <Controlled by Rob>

Summary

- Starday, 6th Calistril in the year 815 (Second Era). Spring.

- The party begin this session, having just fled into the tunnel opening of the golden pyramid, with more lizardfolk chasing them. Naillae’s horse steps onto a section of the stone floor that slightly depresses with a click. A large stone block falls down at the tunnel entrance and slams shut with a loud echo, plunging the tunnel into pitch black. Oloma takes out her Goggles Of The Night and ignites a light from her arm, whilst Sir Lee also takes out a torch to light.

- Now that they are no longer in direct threat the party look around them. They are in a long tunnel made of fashioned stone that opens into a T-Junction up ahead, branching to the left and right. Four pillars stand at the junction. The ceiling, starting at a height of about 10 feet, slopes downwards until it is only 8 feet high, forcing the party to dismount.

- Shaemus moves over to the unconscious body of Nac, strung over Labarett’s horse, and casts a healing spell on the unconscious body. Nac begins to cough and get off the horse and when he sees Shaemus preparing to cast another healing spell, he raises one hand and snaps, “Enough! I don’t want any of your God’s stink on me. I’ll heal myself!” Nac moves away and begins to cast magic to heal himself.

- Moving into the junction, the party see that the left and right passageways only go a short distance before they both stop in a dead end. The area is searched and examined. The left dead end has fresh blood on the floor, walls and ceiling. Naillae finds a section of the floor there that she believes hides a trap but she is unable to disable it, so the party decide to avoid that area.

- On the right dead end, the stone floor has intricate lines carved into it. Oloma decides to walk directly onto it and she vanishes in a blue flash as a glowing arcane circle appears. Sir Lee boldly walks into the arcane circle and vanishes with a blue flash as well.

- Naillae looks at the two disappear and then sees the blue glowing circle disappear. The rest of the party walk around the corner and then start discussing what to do. Labarett throws some metal ball bearings onto the ground to make the magic circle appear again and Nac reads the arcane symbols that appear around the circle and determines that it is a teleport circle <Successful Arcana check>. The rest of the party proceed through the teleport, whilst Sir Krondor ties off a rope between the pillars to prevent the horses from walking onto the teleport circle and leaves some dry feed onto the floor so the horses have food for a day. Finally all the party have teleported away, leaving only the horses behind in the dark entry area.

- In another area of the pyramid, Oloma appears, having just teleported. She panics as she can’t see anything, her head is spinning, and she feels like she wants to vomit. That was a very rough teleport, even for Oloma who is used to teleporting. She takes off her Goggles Of The Night, which appear to be not working, and blinks as her eyes which are blurry start to see a dark dungeon passageway light ahead in dim red light. She moves ahead a short distance, slowly as she is still dizzy, and then behind her teleports in Sir Lee, holding a lit torch.

- Sir Lee slowly walks towards a wall, his vision blurred and his head dizzy. Oloma’s vision becomes clear again as the effects of the rough teleport fade off.

- One by one, the party teleport into the new area, each feeling the effects of the teleport. Oloma places her Goggles back on as it appears the teleport has a temporary Dispel Magic effect that lasts a short time. To the dismay of the party they also discover that all their on going protection spells have been nullified.

- The party move ahead and start to explore a vast, winding series of corridors, bends and small enclosed areas. They find a series of strange large gold circular discs, engraved with patterns, and each with a different coloured central gem. They also find a series of alcoves, scattered around the area, each with a golden ring knocker and engraved small coloured discs. In each alcove there is a small picture of a maze, showing 8 small gold dots moving around it, which the party correctly determine represents the eight members of the party within this maze. Also scattered around the area are some stone circular discs with different coloured symbols.

- The party now spend some time trying to figure out what to do. They discuss various ideas and Gim discovers that one of the coloured stone discs on the floor appear to be a rotating section. It would appear that the party will need to rotate various walls to proceed further.

- Eventually, after much trial and error, Sir Lee suggests lifting all the golden ring knockers and knocking them at the same time, which they do, and a loud mechanical noise can now be heard coming from everywhere, and there is a slight vibration that can be felt in the stone.

- Before the party can decide what this means, a ghost materialises through a wall near Nac. His scream of alarm alerts the party and they rush to his aid as the ghost claws icy hands at Nac.

- As each member of the party comes to his aid and sees the Ghost they each shudder with fear and terror but manage to control themselves and fight off the effect of the ghost but when Shaemus sees the Ghost he stops and succumbs to the Horrifying Visage (Failed Wisdom save). He immediately begins to age, his long dark hair begins to turn grey, wrinkles and age spots appear on his red skinned face. He is no longer twenty one years old, instead he has aged forty years and is now an old sixty one year old Tiefling. Tieflings have a shorter span of life than Humans, generally only reaching eighty or so years before dying of old age. He is now an old Tiefling.

- Meanwhile the battle with the Ghost has been raging on. After failing to Turn the Ghost by the power of his Goddess, Nac delivers the last blow with his enchanted long sword, Talon, which sees the Ghost disperse into nothing.

- With the battle over, the party move over to Shaemus. When Nac sees the aged face of the Tiefling, he laughs, “Where’s your god now Cleric?”

- Shaemus looks Nac directly in the eye, “I do not question the will of Aegir.”

- The party continue trying to figure out the puzzle of the rotating walls. They start pressing different coloured gems watching various parts of the maze rotate clockwise and anti-clockwise.

- Oloma is moving to and fro pressing buttons, laughing as she watches various walls shift to and fro. Shaemus is moving through the maze, timing his way through the rotating walls, exploring more sections. Labarett is steering intently at the many small engraved coloured discs within the alcoves trying to see a pattern. Sir Krondor is moving frantically around, trying to stop Oloma from randomly pressing buttons without much success until he everntually gives up and moves away. Sir Lee is walking around, looking confused, at what is happening. Naillae and Nac are waiting off to the side watching the show.

- After a long period of time the party do manage to open a hidden section that reveals an exit room, with another apparent teleport section, but now they have the problem of getting everyone back out from the various sections of the maze, as they have had to separate in order to operate the many scattered gem buttons. Once again, rotating walls are spinning to and fro, as the party wander around and press buttons wildly.

- Eventually, Labarett shouts out to everyone to stop pressing buttons, “I have figured out the pattern and discs. Listen to my instructions and only press a button when I call out a colour!”

- Sir Krondor sits down on the stone floor beside Labarett, “It’s hopeless! We’re never going to get out because there is no solution!”

- Labarett sighs, “Patience Dwarf. Not everything can be solved with sharp steel, sometimes you need to use wit.”

- Sir Krondor rubs his head as if in pain, “In that case, we really are doomed!”

- Labarett starts calling out a series of instructions, and one by one, with the sound of rotating walls coming at them, the party all reform at the exit.

- Sir Krondor, still seated with his head bent forward resting on his hands, is mumbling, “Doomed I tell you. It’s exactly what happened to my uncle in the mountains of Dramunz. Got lost in a giant labyrinth. Doomed I tell you. We’re all doomed.”

- “Sir Krondor,” interrupts Labarett.

- “What?” replies the depressed Dwarf Knight.

- “We’re all here and the exit is open. Time to leave, unless you wish to stay behind by yourself,” answers Labarett.

- Naillae says in a mocking tone, “Yes, at least it would be peaceful then.”

- Sir Krondor looks up and sees all the party and immediately jumps up, “Right! Yes of course. I knew you could do it.” With a sheepish grin, the Dwarf Knight grabs his cousin and both he and Gim walk into the teleport to vanish with a blue flash.

- In pairs, the party proceed through the next teleport portal.

- Gim and Sir Krondor, the first to teleport through, arrive in another area of the maze. As before, they both appear with their heads spinning and their vision blurry as they get over the effects of the very rough teleport. They can hear a high pitched wailing sound, like a mechanical sound, and can just make out blurry figures moving towards them and striking out. The Dwarves defend themselves from the attackers and have to control themselves against a strong, overwhelming stench <Successful Constitution save>. As their vision slowly returns they see they are under attack from undead Ghasts, which are coming at them from a large chamber ahead.

- As the Dwarves prepare to fight, another of the party suddenly teleports into the area, the arcane force knocking Gim away and onto the floor. The party are trapped in a small narrow corridor, whilst they are under attack from on coming Ghasts, and are also teleporting directly into the combat.

- The battle is fierce, but the initial party members manage to move into position that stops the forward advance of the Ghasts, and leaves the area free for the continuing teleport entry of the rest of the party to come. Gim is firing crossbow bolts from the rear. Oloma is using her psionic to aim beams of psionic energy towards the foes. Sir Krondor is swinging his enchanted Snaidh into the creatures as he smashes his shield to drop any Ghast near him into the ground. Shaemus and Sir Lee are using their longer weapons, a halberd and lance, to attack from behind the first rank. Labarett is swinging Anarchic, his enchanted long sword, cutting down Ghasts but his sword is unable to feed on the life force of the Ghasts as they have none. Nac and Naillae, strongly affected by the smell of Ghasts (Failed Constitution save) and the effects of the rough teleport spend the battle bent over and vomiting onto the ground.

- Eventually the party succeed in destroying all the undead foes. They move into a large square room, that has two spinning blade traps in it, the source of the loud mechanical noise, that appear to be trying to move back into the ground but are stuck as one of the blades has a bent arm. There is blood and ripped clothing all around blade traps and a broken wooden staff, as if others before tried to bend the broken trap back into place but all died in the attempt to do so. The torn and bloody robes of the eight dead figures, who obviously turned into the Ghasts, are red with distinctive patterns.

- Oloma looks at the robes, “Red Wizards of Thay.”

- Labarett says, “Yes, Leodithas told us that the Red Wizards were here too, along with the Cult.”

- Naillae searches the bodies and removes eight simple daggers from them but there is nothing else of value.

- There is another passageway ahead that opens into another large chamber but the party decide to remain in this first chamber and make camp as they need to get some much need sleep and recover their health. They set watches and begin a long, dreadful sleep, the sound of the whirling blades near them and the smell of dead all around, keeping them on edge.

- Sunday, 7th Calistril in the year 815 (Second Era). Spring.

- The party awake in the early hours of the the next day. It is still a couple of hours before the sun is set to rise, not that the party can see the sun or the outside sky. They all look at each other, and can see the effects of the broken sleep and the raw magic of the pyramid on them. <All the party make Successful Wisdom checks to avoid the affects of the chaos magic surrounding them.>

- Naillae speaks, “I feel terrible. That was not a good sleep, must have been the sound of the blades.”

- Nac replies, “No. It’s this place. Remember the Lord Seer warned us not to stay too long in the maze of the pyramid. It’s magic will eventually change us.”

- Sir Lee quickly looks down at his body and then looks up, “Change us how? And how long before it happens?”

- Nac snaps, “How would I know? We should limit the time we spend in here, I’ve felt a weight pressing down on us since we entered this maze. Magic so powerful that it perverts and twists everything here. Unless you want to end up like them,” and Nac points at the destroyed Ghasts and then continues, “Or worse, I suggest we hurry.”

- The party clean up after camp and prepare to continue. With no other apparent exit they move towards the other entrance and look into another large square chamber. There is a smell of death in here too and green slime can be seen on some of the walls and floor. Bones and skulls are scattered about the floor. On the far side of the room can be seen an alcove in the wall.

- The party discuss how to proceed and after Naillae refuses to enter the room alone as bait, Shaemus boldly walks into the chamber. He gets about half way across and turns to the face the party, “See, there’s nothing to be worried about.”

- Just as he finishing saying this, a large green ball of slime drops out from one of the many cracks in the ceiling and falls all around Shaemus. The Cleric of Aegir casts a spell and a Spiritual Weapon appears next to the ooze and begins to attack it. He then tries to get away but as he moves to flee, the green ooze strikes out and grabs him, sticking to him and holding him there. He watches in horror as the beast forms into a large humanoid shaped creature that towers over him and reaches out to hold his halberd. The halberd begins to hiss and then dissolves with a smell of acid.

- Oloma screams out, “Corrupting Ooze! Get back before it dissolves you and all your stuff!”

- The party all move into position in the other room so they can see the creature but keep their distance. Sir Krondor rushes towards the entrance of the chamber and stands his ground, “I’ll hold this line!”

- Sir Lee quickly moves up directly behind Sir Krondor, his lance out too, “And I have your back!”

- Shaemus is desperately trying to get away and watches as his metal gauntlets begin to dissolve in acid now destroyed. He screams as the ooze strike out and hits him, the acid burning him badly. He manages to break free, badly wounded and weaponless, and moves back out into the other room. Shaemus’s Spiritual Weapon continues striking at the ooze.

- Meanwhile, the rest of the party has been launching ranged attacks at the ooze, spells and cross bow bolts flying towards it. Slowly, the corrupting ooze walks over towards the chamber entrance where Sir Krondor and Sir Lee wait. The ooze tries to strike at the Dwarf Knight in front but Sir Krondor is doing everything in his power and skill to avoid the strikes <Dodge action taken>. This gives the opportunity to Sir Lee from behind to strike out with his long lance, poking the ooze again and again.

- With the defensive tactic of Sir Krondor and the combined might of the party attacking it from a far, the ooze breaks apart and dissolves as it is destroyed.

- The party reunite and move into the room, being careful now to keep a watch on the ceiling. They check out the alcove on the far side but it is empty. The area is searched and Labarett performs a Ritutal of Detect Magic, and he senses magic coming from the first room. Returning back there he sees there is a magical enchantment on the stuck blade traps and the entry area where the party first entered. He takes some time to read arcane symbols he can now see and determines that the exit teleport is back where the party first entered but it won’t trigger until the blade trap resets.

- The party try smashing the bent metal arm back into position but it doesn’t work and Gim, being a Blacksmith tells the party the only way it’s going to work is to lever it back into position with a lot of force, just like the Red Wizards were trying to do but died in the attempt. Oloma gives Gim a crow bar, and using his knowledge of metal working, places it into a position for maximum effect. He uses all his force to push, mindful not to slip or get too close to the spinning blades of death, and with a tremendous effort he pushes the metal arm back into shape. Immediately the blades fold down back into the stone ground and a stone slab moves into position to hide the hole <Successful Strength check>. The loud whirling sound finally ends.

- The party get into marching order and Sir Krondor and Gim move back into the entry corridor and wink out of sight as a blue teleport circle appears under their feet.

XP Allocation

Group - Combined (This is equally divided by the number of players who were involved)

Quests (Only quests that are completed or rendered undoable, during this session, are shown here)

- Exit (1) Entry Area Without Setting Off Trap = 200 XP

- Exit (2) Shifting Walls Area With All Characters = 1000 XP

- Exit (3) Stuck Blade Trap Area With No Injury From Trap = 300 XP

Creatures Overcome

- Ghost = 1100 XP

- Ghasts (Dead Wizards of Thay) = 3600 XP

- Corrupting Ooze = 1800 XP

Individual (This is only given to that person and is not divided amongst all players)

Special Bonus (Outstanding Role Playing)

Nil

XP Levels and Player Allocations

Player : Start + Received = Total (Notes)

Rob : 59242 + 1000 = 60242

Arthur : 44720 + 750 = 45470

Travis : 50058 + 1000 = 51058

Paul : 41586 + 1000 = 42586

Bob : 45452 + 1250 = 46702

Sean: 36544 + 1000 = 37544

NPC (Naillae) : + (500)

NPC (Nac): + (500)

#D&D #DnD #5th #rpg #5e

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vacuousfool · 5 years

Text

My soul is weak but I will be strong [SELFPOST]

[ In response to this ]

It had been a year since he had met and befriended Adachi Tohru. Yu was amazed by how quickly time had flown by: he had promised himself he would only stay in this city for a few days, yet, he always found himself returning. Perhaps he had realised that Tohru was lonely too, and that they needed each other to some degree.

They spent a lot of time, doing many things, in that year: Yu had told Adachi Tohru about his travels, about his fighting skills ( he had even helped train Tohru in some of them! ), about the sights he’d seen. In turn, Tohru told him a bunch about things Yu just didn’t know from lack of experience, not from lack of knowledge. Like school, and what it was like to go shopping ( Yu had no real concept of money, as he and his parents had never needed to use money to buy things ).

Each day, Yu found himself becoming more and more attached to Tohru; he liked seeing him smile, enjoyed hearing his laughter, and realise that for the first time since his parents had died, he was letting himself be vulnerable. Yu always cared about others, his parents had instilled that in him and he just wanted to help, but it was one thing to care about everyone as a whole, and another to care about someone as an individual.

Once Yu realised these things, he supposed he just couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not quite yet. He wanted to really tell Tohru what was going on. His mission to rewrite the universe, to save everyone. To help everyone. Maybe if he told Tohru, Yu could help bring him along into the newer universe.

It was a day like any other, really: Yu and Tohru were hanging out, eating ice cream together at the pier, overlooking the vast ocean. Yu had never been around such a vast body of water, untainted water, so he had taken to the ocean and the pier immediately. Other than the park, this was often where Yu and Tohru came to spend time together.

Yu says something rather dark ( he has a dry, almost intense sense of humour due to his upbringing ), and laughs at his own joke, glancing over at Tohru to ask him if he feels the same way. That’s when Yu feels Tohru’s lips upon his own, and he instantly stalls.

Everything stops; and for a split second, Yu feels fear. Not at the kiss. Not at Tohru’s feelings. But at what this means. Yu’s not loved anyone other than his parents. Yu has not ever considered the idea of dating. He had fully prepared himself to focus only on his mission, not at the expense of others ( Yu still helped people whenever and wherever he could ), but, it was very important.

Thinking about it, though, his parents would be happy for him. Yu is certain of that: they would have wanted him to find a chance to live, while also fulfilling his goals and ideals. With Tohru, he’s happy. Smiling, Yu leans into the kiss, choosing to let go of the ice cream and cup Tohru’s face gently, like he remembers his mother always doing to help reassure him.

Tohru frantically says sorry for Yu losing his ice cream, and Yu can’t help but laugh at that. Oh Tohru, you silly! It’s you that’s important, in the moment! Yu promised that they could buy ice cream again, tomorrow, and then they head off. Walking hand in hand, Yu makes sure Tohru gets home safely, and says his goodbyes, promising to meet up again tomorrow.

He had left the city, intent on heading back to his home in the mountainous region, in high spirits. Is this what they meant, by ‘being on cloud nine’? Either way, Yu was distracted. He wasn’t as alert as he’d normally been. The year had made him complacent:

That was what she had been banking on.

He was hit before he could react; or, rather, pushed. He felt a hand on his back, and it just, pushed him forward. Yu stumbled, but not along the pathway he’d originally been walking along. No, he stumbled into a rift in space-time, and was gone before he even finished stumbling.

Now, he was in this endless void of sky; a glass-like flooring reflecting the sky above, making it seem endless both horizontally and vertically. His breathing caught in his throat, initially at the beauty of this spectacle. Then, Yu felt it, in his soul -- that resonance of the one thing he had sought after for nearly half of his life.

The essence of this universe: contained in a small sphere of pure white light, idly floating in the middle of the area. That light reflected in Yu’s eyes, and he was in awe. He barely had a few moments to take this in, before she appeared.

It had been many years since he had last seen the woman with long, flowing dark black hair, and golden coloured eyes. She was as ethereal as when he’d first glimpsed her outside of his cabin as a younger child.

“Child of Destiny: I am here to pass judgement upon you. You wish to alter this world? First, you must become as a God.” Her voice, it was so, neutral. Neither condemning nor singing his praises. Become as a God?

Yu smiled, that expression a mix of empathy, yet remorse.

He knew he was supposed to hate them; the demons, the gods. His parents had never spoken of them except in negative ways. They had tried to cast stones, but Yu had seen it, demons who were hunted for sport, gods’ shrines that had been defiled or torn down. No one worshipped the gods now, no one tried to understand the demons.

“I, don’t want to hurt you.”

She holds her palm upwards, and bolts of sheer plasma-like energy begin to rapidly rocket towards Yu. He’s quick, he can see them with ease; he begins to run not forward, but to the side, weaving and darting as to avoid them, ignoring that bursting of wind and energy nipping behind him that threatens to send him off his feet.

He has to skid to a stop, to duck, because she’s in front of him now, attempting to palm strike him. Yu moves, and quick jerk of his body; he’s grabbed her arm, and pulled, tossing her over his back. Or, he would have, but she is agile, she is otherworldly.

She floats easily and throws him mercilessly into the air, before striking his backside with some bolts of energy. Yu inhales, and turns mid-air, his eyes burning; he can feel his eyes, his soul, burning as he calls forth that magical energy. It’s always with him, it’s always ‘on’ in a sense, but even with all of his training, Yu has never needed to utilise this much constantly.

He fires a blast of ice magic toward her with his right hand, and his left arm is beginning to spark with that charge of electrical bolts. She dodges, but then Yu moves; rushing forward with the inhuman speed of his own, he gets to the left side and quickly shoots lightning at her. Point blank range.

She is thrown backwards, skidding along the glass like ground, and then a sword appears in her left hand. The goddess swings the blade, upwards, and acidic like rain begins to fall from the sky. Yu grits his teeth, ignoring that burning smell; his body is trying to heal that damage to him, so he can feel his skin melting and then continuously reforming. Smoke constantly wafts from his body.

He rushes at her, and they exchange hits, dodging; she with her sword, he with his fists and legs. Yu has no true weapon to speak of, besides, he’s always been better with magics and his bare hands.

Separating, Yu once again calls forth ice, but this time, in a vast wall that rushes forward instantly; it catches her by the left arm, and then he shatters it. Her arm is now gone, but she does not bleed. Gods do not have blood, not in the traditional sense. Instead, her arms seems to give off faint glowing particles that float over into the sphere of essence that is still in the middle of this area.

He feels pain at having caused her such harm: but she is smiling. Before he can comprehend what this means, she’s rushing at him again. Yu steps back, startled; what a foolish notion, she must be thinking. To be empathetic towards your ‘enemy’ in midst of combat.

She is not his enemy, however. He has never once thought of another as his enemy, he isn’t about to start now.

She tries to slash at him, he deflects it, she anticipates this, because she trips him. Somehow, he hadn’t been expecting that.

He’s been stabbed before, but never quite like this. Her blade pierces through his chest, and then she twists it, and he coughs back a scream. A gods’ blade was powerful, sheer strength itself, so even though the metal looks as though a regular swords’, it feels like Yu is being stabbed by 50 tons of pressure, of weight, tearing along his insides.

Dying. This is what this sensation is. He is dying. Tears running down his jawline, Yu’s left hand reaches upwards, then, his right hand. He grips at the blade with both of his palms, and then focuses. Before she can react, he sends every single ounce of electrical magic that he can through her blade, and into her; into both her and Yu, himself.

She lets out a horrible wail of a scream, one that seems to reverberate into the vastness surrounding them. Yu’s eyes, their sclera turns black; from the sheer overwhelming force of using so much magic. His body can’t handle it all at once. It takes thirty seconds of continuous shocking at 1000% for her to cease.

For the goddess to stop existing. She is thrown backwards, and lands on the reflective ground. Yu is still laid there, that sword embedded into him.

Then, he remembers: oh, it’s a gods’ sword. Made of a god, by a god. Then, he can... Yu focuses, and feels the sword, meld into his soul. It sinks into his soul, and adds itself to his very essence, his very being. He has absorbed a gods’ power.

He can feel it, and his appearance changes: his irises transform from a bright blue to a very intense golden yellow, a bright golden yellow. His sclera remains that blackened colour. Exhaling, Yu pushes himself onto his feet, stumbling, his muscles and bones aching as his body rapidly heals with, and adjusts to, its newfound energy.

Yu focuses, and that sword-- the goddess’ sword, now his own, he supposes-- appears in his left hand. He swings it, trying to reconcile that weight. It isn’t heavy; a gods’ sword is supposed to nigh impossible to lift, let alone swing. Still tired, Yu walks past the goddess’ body and towards that sphere of essence.

“....Hello.” It’s said with some, meekness, a tad uncertainty: Yu doesn’t know the etiquette of the souls of universes, but it feels rude to just, grab the sphere, “I’m, not going to destroy you. Not, like you might think. I’m going to absorb you, and together, we’re going to make things better.”

“I want to create a universe where demons and humans can help each other: where we can all co-exist happily, peacefully. Will you lend me a hand?”

Lifting his palm, Yu watches as the sphere seems to shift briefly, but then, float towards him. Smiling gently, his hand moves towards the sphere. Yu doesn’t notice the goddess moving behind him.

It’s when he grabs the sphere, and starts to absorb it into him, that she stabs through his chest with her bare arm. His body jerks, blood coughing from his mouth; Yu’s eyes go blank. The sky overhead simultaneously goes pitch black, and the reflective ground beneath them begins to crack and shatter, falling away around them.

Tears start to fall from Yu; from that essence. Beyond, the world as Yu knew it begins to break. Everything starts to go wrong: multiple natural disasters, the ground itself starts to tear and deform, winds pick up to the point of ripping mountains apart and shredding trees and what little relic of buildings there are dotting the land.

The goddess, she smiles, “You failed.” Yu can’t-- he won’t-- accept this!! Before she can pull away from him, the restart is fully activated; a light bursts out from Yu’s body, his form silhouetting, and the goddess screams. That light washes over everything, and then pulls inside of itself.

The universe is still for a few moments, before rapidly beginning to be born anew...

#emptyjester #[HEADCANONS] “FACTS ABOUT ONESELF.”#[YU;CHILD] “INNOCENCE NOT YET CORRUPTED.”#[TRUEV] “BACK TO THE VERY START OF EVERYTHING.”#[YU] “HE WHO SEEKS RESOLUTION.”#[MAINV] “NEED TO START SOMEWHERE.”

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luckyfirerabbit · 6 years

Text

Embers: Jaune dies instead. Pt 1

If Pyrrha Nikos remembers anything about tonight, it will be the creeping claustrophobia of the transfer pod. In the first few seconds it wasn't even there, but now, nearly a minute of being under plexiglass, it vibrates through her chest and ribs, stammering her heart and threatening to snatch her breath right out of her lungs.

"Are you ready?"

She hears Ozpin, knows the inquiry is directed towards her though he sounds so distant. Her instincts ring towards the sound of his voice, compelling a quick, decisive nod.

"I...I need to hear you say it."

"...Yes."

"Thank you, Miss Nikos."

She doesn't know what's about to happen, what it will feel like, and the unknowing of it all is crippling.

She felt a fit of shakes encroaching and she breaks to a knee-jerk reaction to ground herself. She hears the mechanical humming of something behind her -maybe beneath. She feels static rushing across the small hairs on her body, making them bristle anxiously. For a moment all she sees is the green sheen of what lay beyond the plexiglass, the darkness of the vault ceiling, but then her vision snaps to one side to see the only comforting thing in the universe.

Jaune is there, shield and sword at the ready -much like she had taught him- to protect her.

Then the pain surges through her and wipes clean all the focus she had been clinging to. It's hot and cold and insistent. Trespassing and shocking. Oh gods above, everything hurts, so bad that it muffles the ringing of her own dragging scream with the rushing of blood through her ears.

Ozpin hurriedly continues his work at the console seeming unfazed save for the tight, sympathetic crinkle of his brow. Jaune twists around in one sharp jerk, his post forgotten, and he cries for Pyrrha without the faintest thought, like her name is it's own instinct.

"There's nothing more you can do, Mr. Arc, please," and the plea is biting, easily the hardest the young man had ever heard his tone.

It feels like pulling against the world, but Jaune will take up his previous task again, and not a moment too soon.

It's a flicker of something at the far end of the yawning corridor, a glistening in the heart of the darkest shadow beneath the archway of the entrance. Jaune doesn't know what it is or could be, only that something about it is inherently wrong. Something just as formless is telling him to move, encouraging his feet to step to the side and back, closer to the other occupied pod. And all the while Pyrrha stifles her agonized cries and it rings in his head, only stopping when a punctuated impact jolts his shield against his shoulder, a veil of sparks showering his face and ripping all of his attention to where that flickering had been. At his feet are shards of dark glass and the remains of crystalline fletching. A shattered arrow.

Pyrrha heard it too, somehow amongst the maddening maelstrom in her mind she heard the blasting fracture of glass that part of her had expected to be that of her own cell. But looking through the hot blur of tears she finds the plexiglass intact, so her head clips to the side again to try and make out something beyond her confines. Jaune is still there, his presence still holding some sort of solace over her, but that shatters too after a brief moment. Even as the pain sparks anew, all she can think about is Jaune as her mind -suddenly centralizing on a gut wrenching horror- acknowledges a new presence in the vault: Cinder Fall.

Without even realizing what she's doing, no longer accepting the crackling hurt in her soul as near-godlike power is scraping into her, Pyrrha pounds against the mere three inch plate that separates her from everything else. A frenzied, desperate action to coincide with the driving need to get out and help him. Every time her fists strike the plexiglass and it doesn't give, each impact a fresh charge of pain, the more the fear rises in her throat.

Cinder breaks loose of the darkness at the end of the corridor, seeming to glide across the floor on an unseen current. Jaune knows he's not ready, he knows he can't take her, but he's strangely unafraid. Even as haunting amber eyes clearly, deliberately bore into him, he finds no fear. He sets his shield and plants his feet, and inches forward with visible intent to stand in her way. A small shiver rolls through him when he sees a punctuating vibration in the air behind Cinder, sending her literally flying towards him with all speed. And once she's close enough for him to see it, his eyes are fixed on the bow in one of her hands.

Cinder draws as close as a breath to him, stopping with a wave of sparks as her heels skid across the floor. She expects him to swing with something, never minding what so long as he does it. As her momentum comes to a close on her heels, she sees him starting to move, the motion starting in the twist of his hips. At the same moment she pushes herself back and up, she calls the fragments of glass off the floor to her off hand, reforming the arrow as well as summoning a second from out of nowhere. Jaune swings with his sword just after she flickers out of reach, leaving himself more than open.

Pyrrha is wailing now, tears streaming down her face though the ripping onslaught of magic in her veins has finally eased. She watches helplessly, somehow clairvoyant and knowing what's about to happen. She knows and she's helpless and it's hell.

"Let me out!" she screams, her voice choked as she tries with all her might to force the pod open. "Please!"

She sees the flicker in the air, like the one Jaune saw seemingly seconds ago, though this time it's a pair of them as Cinder looses the arrows downward. Then Pyrrha's breath just stops.

Jaune is only fully aware of things when he realizes he suddenly can't lift his arms. He tries, gods know he tries, but now his sword and shield weigh metric tons and he can't raise them passed his chest. Part of his brain is wondering where the pain is, because he knows he's hurt and hurt bad now. Razor sharp cylinders of glass ripped through the space between his neck and both shoulders -pretty sure he should have felt that, but all he registers is a sharp burning and the loss of feeling beginning in his fingers. Then Cinder comes down on him, knocking him to the floor and it all comes screaming back.

As he lays there on his back, hands still gripping his weapon somehow, Jaune watches as Cinder seems to try to just stroll by him. No, can't let her, can't do that. He tries to get up, his sword arm swinging stupidly with metallic chimes ringing though the air as it scrapes across the floor. Unbidden tears roll down his cheeks when Cinder meets his gaze. She looks curious, slightly amused, but very briefly so. When he realizes his legs still work just fine, he tries to lean into a charge. He'll take three steps.

Pyrrha feels helpless again, her fists sore, gutted and breathless as she watches three seconds unfold like an hour. These three seconds will replace the memory of closed spaces and haunt her for the rest of her life.

Cinder swallows her amusement with an easy breath, in and out with no rush at all as her body moves in a natural progression. Her bow collapses into twin sabers, one in each hand like they belong there. She makes no effort to move aside as Jaune takes his third stable but heavy step, and instead she takes one step of her own, her hands dropping low but wrists turning to tilt the blades upward. Her response is so quick, so precise, Jaune appears to fall on her swords, the edges angled just so they slip into the opening beneath his breastplate and tuck within the cavity of his ribs. They wedge themselves deep as Cinder straightens, taking some of the boy's weight onto her shoulder. His sputtering gasps puff against her ear, each steadily shortening inhale-exhale becoming wetter.

Cinder hears the screams, the noise, and peers over Jaune's shoulder. For the moment she can forget Ozpin and the awful magic trick he just pulled to keep her magic out of her reach a little longer. She sees the girl writhing in the pod, her greens eyes bleary and vicious in equal measure. She feels that sadistic humor again, her thoughts leaning towards something perhaps irrelevant and perhaps not: had she cared about this useless boy? Even a little? The way she carries on certainly suggests it. Cinder Fall cuts a vile grin, certain Pyrrha is watching her as she thrusts the blades a little deeper, encouraging a wave of hot blood to splash down her back from Jaune's mouth. Then she steadily turns her head, kissing him on the cheek, mockingly sweet.

#Embers of Autumn #savage season #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #cinder fall

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gilbirda · 6 years

Text

So.

It seems that I hate myself.

Here’s some angst for the Satan and Me fandom, because it seems like I haven’t had enough of it with the last chapter.

[In case anyone is interested to know what fandom is this-> Satan and Me (Tapastic)] http://thisiskindagross.tumblr.com/

They had lost. The End of Days came and went so fast that Natalie could say that it was kind of disappointing. But it wasn’t Lucifer’s fault, she knew, because he did his part fair and square; no, it was his follower’s fault that everything went to Hell, no pun intended.

So many deaths that could not be avoided still burned behind her eyes. Her own family was caught in the crossfire, but that was a fact she had come to terms with. At least they would go to Paradise to reunite with her mother.

But there was no such future for her, because she had actively supported Satan in his evil schemes. Michael had said so with a sour expression on his face and a golden piece of parchment on his hands. “I’m so sorry, Gingersnap, but you have been a very bad girl recently.”

She didn’t hate the archangels for this punishment, she knew what she was getting into. It would be so much easier to hate and hate, but as she always did, she understood them. And even when they took Lucifer from her own arms to God knows where (literally), she understood that they did it without any glee or pleasure.

Lucifer wasn’t dead. She was sure of it. They may have had a violent confrontation but they didn’t want to actually kill each other, as she was proven time and time again; also, there was a feeling deep in her gut that he was still kicking and alive. Would he be thinking about her, too? Wondering when they would be reunited, at least for the last time?

Because as she knelt in a dark room with her arms binded by heavy chains above her head, Natalie was positive that they wouldn’t get out of this alive.

“Kid?” a voice cut the silence from the other side of the door making her heart do a flip. No, that wasn’t Luce’s voice.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Raphael,” Natalie sighed. Raphael was, maybe, one of the few angels that didn’t look at her with disgust.

“Come in,” she said and snickered when he appeared from the opened door. “Sorry I can’t open the door for you. My hands are a bit tied here.” She lifted one hand making the chains clink against each other.

Raphael flinched at her attempt of humor.

“What can I do for you?” she asked with a soft smile, as if she wasn’t badly injured and dirty from the previous fight. No one had been happy that a human was present, but Lucifer said on yesterday’s interrogation that Natalie actually refused to leave his side. Neither angel commented on the sad smile on Satan’s face at the mention of her name.

“I come to check your wounds,” he took a tentative step towards her, watching for any violent reaction. She laughed.

“I won’t bite. And thanks, by the way.”

“It’s the least I can do for you, after we-”

“Don’t,” she interrupted with a suddenly serious face, all laugh leaving her expression. “I knew what I was getting into when I helped him.”

I knew what was the outcome when I fell in love with Lucifer, she left unsaid.

Raphael sighed. They were supposed to save every human life, but what could they do when a human willingly stood in their way out of love? The purest feeling, directed towards something so evil.

Seeing that there was no reason to fill the silence with meaningless conversation, Raphael poured himself in the task of healing the burned and torn skin where she was hit trying to stop Michael and Uriel from finishing off Lucifer. He performed an emergency fix on the battlefield but didn’t have the opportunity to finish the process.

He ventured a glance to the human’s face and found a vacant look in the usually vibrant green eyes. It has been almost two days since Luce surrendered and they were separated, and the effect of it was showing in both demon and human. It was like they weren’t actually there, their minds too far away to acknowledge the passing of the time.

It broke his heart to see them like this.

Suddenly there was a crash and a loud roar somewhere down the hall. Screams of alarm and barked orders followed shortly after, drowned in the barely human words from a very angry Lucifer.

“Luce?” Natalie blinked, light returning to her eyes. “What happened?” she turned to the archangel by her side.

“I… don’t know.”

But he was lying. They had probably told him what was Natalie’s punishment. She was going to be reformed and replaced in Earth with no memories of any of this, of him. It has been Michael’s idea after a heated discussion about her fate. He didn’t want her to be erased or damned like every other of Lucifer’s followers, so he came up with the idea of ‘restarting’ her life. Give her a second chance, he assured.

“NATALIE!” Satan’s wreckage was getting nearer by the second and Raphael knew that they didn’t have even a minute before he got there.

“I’m so sorry, Natalie,” the archangel cried and took a step back from her.

“What-?”

“NATALIE! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

“What’s happening, Raphael?” she gave the closed door a wary look, her heart beating fast.

“You are not going to be executed,” he confessed. “Instead, we have decided to give you a second chance.”

He didn’t say anything else, but Natalie understood.

“And Luce…?”

Raphael gulped.

The door was swung open and Lucifer stood there in all his burning glory, eyes bright as stars and tears going down his cheeks. Raphael was taken aback by this. Lucifer didn’t cry, not when they were separated and not in any of the interrogations.

“Natalie! We have to leave this place!”

“Lucifer?” she tried to reach out but there was so much that the chain could give her.

Before he could take another step he was tackled to the floor from behind by some low ranked angels, giving Michael enough time to arrive and put his sword on the back of Lucifer’s neck. Uriel and Gabriel were next, kneeling and putting all of their weight on Satan’s arms and legs, fighting against his trashing form. He was injured but in that moment he fought with a strength they didn’t know he had left on his body.

“Lucifer!” the girl screamed as she watched him reopen his wounds. “Don’t hurt him, please!”

“You are not the one that gives orders, girl,” Uriel grumbled and drew his sword, slamming it on Lucifer’s leg to pin him in place. He roared in pain, the sound drowning Natalie’s own screams of horror.

“Oh, my,” Michael looked at the human and gulped. He didn’t want to do this, not here, not where she was watching. But if they didn’t do this Lucifer was going to fight with everything he had. “I’m so sorry, Gingersnap, but it’s time.”

“NO!” she blinked to wipe away the tears that blurred her vision. “Please don’t!”

“Natalie,” Lucifer whispered, and then it was like time had stopped for them as they looked at each other in the eyes. Both knew what was going to happen, but refused to close their eyes in the last few moments they had left. They were angry, pissed, that they weren’t given the opportunity to properly say goodbye; but there was only love in their eyes as Michael lifted his sword to give the final strike. The love they had was a strange one, a bumpy road with a lot of arguments, but it has been the best thing it had ever happened to them. It was brief, but real. Full.

The archangel’s sword finally pierced Lucifer’s heart and Natalie felt like her own chest was burning even if they weren’t contracted anymore. She watched him light up like a star until her eyes closed by themselves to block some of it. And when she opened them again, Lucifer was no more.

A deafening silence followed as the angels and the human looked at the scorched floor like if Lucifer would suddenly appear again with a loud laugh.

“No…,” Natalie said when it seemed that it wouldn’t happen. “No!”

“Look, Ginger-”

“NO,” she trashed against her chains, her skin breaking where the metal bit into her flesh. “Lucifer!” She pulled with all of her strength, but the chains didn’t budge. She was just human, after all.

“You are going to hurt yourself, girl,” Raphael tried to reason with her, but she didn’t seem to hear him as she cried the demon’s name. Her green eyes were dull and unfocused.

“I DON’T GIVE A DAMN! I DON’T CARE IF I DIE!” she screamed at the others with all she had. “LUCIFER!”

The angels flinched when her voice broke. They hadn’t seen so much despair since the rift between the siblings and suddenly all of this seemed like the worst idea they’ve ever had. It was hard to kill a brother, but it was harder to leave the sobbing human alone in the dark room again, bleeding and asking for her death.

#satan and me #natan #lucifer #natalie mcallister #angst #fanfic

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pernatius · 3 years

Text

Lost in Space Part 11: Ch 1

Summary: Finally, on Commander Knox's spaceship, the trio finds themselves running out of time before the commander becomes an all too powerful Watcher.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

From the floor to the ceiling, a blue see-through wall about as thick as my ring finger’s length separates and shields us from Ashley’s blasts. Saamuki is standing between Shiitakee and me with her arms raised, keeping this wall from crumbling, but we can’t rely on her forever. To keep us separated from our semi-robotic foe means straining herself. Sure she’s gotten better at controlling her borrowed powers with each time she’s had to use it, but that doesn’t mean she’s not without limits. She’s mortal, just like anyone else here. It’s only a matter of time before she collapses.

Through two tiny slivers between either metal wall sandwiching us, Shiitakee and I are shooting at Ashley. She merely swats away the blasts. White sparks hit one of her metal arms. They splash across the silvery material, grind against it, and eventually, most specs bounce off and pierce through the metal walls surrounding her. A few bounce off and slice into her skin. Before a single inch of her blood can drip down from the cuts, her nanites quickly heal them.

“So much for stealth,” he commented.

“I brought you with us for a reason.”

“I’m not the best under pressure.”

“Thanks for only mentioning that now.”

“You’re welcome.”

She grunts. That blast was much stronger than the ones before, which caused everything around us to shake. Her arms shook. “Syco wanted your head. Explain that instance.”

“I need to concentrate. If I feel too stressed I may release a much deadlier gas than that red one. If those two weren’t Tauvoxes they would be dead. My black gas will most likely kill all three of you even with your nanites and blue powers.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but I interrupt her. “Saamuki, let me through. I’ll deal with Ashley.”

The two of them looked at each other then turned to me. It’s Saamuki that speaks out their concern, “Are you sure?”

“No matter how much I’d rather not be in this situation, I have to accept I’m our only option right now. Besides, I just have to buy enough time for Shiitakee.” I look at the lean mushroom with a grimace. I’m not mad at him. I’m angry at myself for wanting to run away. I’m irate that I lied to both of them, two people who have been by my side for far too long, because they’ve genuinely cared about me, at least for the most part, as I’m unable to accept that I need to face her now. So many times, I’ve nearly died. So many times, I wanted to give up. I kept going because of her, but now I can’t go forward because of her.

Two hands are placed on either of my shoulders. I flinch from Saamuki and Shiitakee’s touch. This time it’s Shiitakee, that’s the first one to talk. “Syco’s mistake was that he believed it was him against the universe. I suppose that’s the fault of being raised by the most egocentric man in the known universe.” He grins before continuing with, “He thought he had nobody even though he has everybody. Well, almost everybody.”

Using both hands, Ashley sends a massive blast our way, which causes Saamuki’s wall to abruptly fade. She lets go of me and quickly reforms it before we actually take a hit. “Shiitakee, speed up your speech before it becomes an obituary.”

“You’re better than him. You know you are, but don’t let yourself make the same mistake he did. Honestly, if he moved on from his predecessor sooner he could’ve taken control of the universe, or at least a good fourth of it.”

Placing my hand on his, I softly say, “Thank you.” I grip my blaster tighter and let go of him. A shortsword is now manifested in that hand. Looking at Saamuki I regard her, “You’ve helped me since the beginning.”

“We’ve helped each other since the beginning, but she’s helped you far longer. Go to her. She needs your help again, but you’re not going to face her alone.”

“I never was alone. Let’s help her together.”

I step out of the opening. The shield reforms soon after, and the battle taking place far beyond these cold, metal walls return to my hearing. I was too focused on her trying to annihilate us, and now since that has taken a brief pause, I can listen to the world around us. The ship feels bigger. We’ve become smaller. On the other side, many are still shouting and blasting at each other. Explosions cause this vessel to rumble. Killings continue on even as the world around me comes to a halt. Imagining the gorefest pisses me off even when they include Knox’s side.

My red-headed opponent stands stiff and eyes me down. She notes my weapons. One of her guns shifts into a sword. “I know you’re somewhere deep down in there, Ashley. I know you can hear me. Believe me, this isn’t the reunion I wanted, but in order to save you I have to defeat you.”

Ashley sprints towards me, but it’s wonky. Clunky? But she looked like one big, red blur, one that shoved me against Saamuki’s wall. My back is slammed against it. I grunt, but I’m able to deflect her incoming blade with my sword. Her weapon’s tip pierced the floor. If I slipped up, she would’ve cut me into two. As she tries getting it out, she raises her blaster towards my face. I move away, but she gets her blade out of the floor and swings it at me. I block it again, but I don’t have enough time to defend myself from her second shot. I brace myself for the impact and hope my nanites protect me from the incoming pain. That never comes because a small, blue shield appears between us. Saamuki saved my life again. I mouth my thanks to her.

My mind-controlled wife then changes her blaster into another sword. She now has two blades, and the new one goes right for the shield. The shield vanishes as I sweep at her legs. Ashley stumbles back, and I elbow her before she can regain her footing. I think I elbow her a little too hard because blood has smeared across one of the corners of her lips. She ignores this and sprints towards me again. I shoot her, and she dodges each blast.

Something speaks to me, a voice I’m unable to pinpoint. Sword pulled back, I concentrated more fire on surrounding its blade. Its blade grows as I do, but I don’t feel the weight change. Still, I can feel the power shift. When she’s close enough, I swing. My sword collides with only one of her blades. Its flames begin to consume hers.

We fight for dominance. Our sharpened metals moan from the stress. Hers cracks, but it slides across my sword. It would have decapitated me if I hadn’t adjusted mine in time. Speaking of close calls, the other blade was a mere second from stabbing my guts if it weren’t for Saamuki once again. I was relieved one moment, but the next, I face horror when that second blade goes right through my defense and into me. I hold myself from spitting out blood, but I can’t keep myself standing.

Maybe it’s the dizziness. I’m losing too much blood, but I think I see Ashley’s eyes water. Even so, she buries the blade again into me and begins to slice me in half. I try to pry it off of me. It cuts into my palms. I screamed. The pain and her greater strength hindered me from being successful.

A large shield comes zooming towards her. She pulls out the blade inside me and uses both of them to slice through the blue wall, but soon multiple come her way. Ashley can cut through most, but she’s not quick enough to do the same for some. They slam into her, pushing her across the hallway.

Saamuki rushes past me, towards her, and onto several small, square, and blue platforms. She continues towards her from above, and once more does she rain down those thick shields onto Ashley. Turning behind me, I see Shiitakee running towards me. He inspects my injury once he’s in front of me. Of course, it’s healing. I can feel my skin reconnect, but it will take some time. I’m a sitting duck until it can. He’s pressing one of his hands against the wound, putting back my intestines inside me and preventing me from going unconscious from too much blood loss. Shiitakee uses the other to rip a piece of his clothing and wrap it around my wound. I’m in pain. It’s nothing compared to when my heart was stabbed not too long ago, but when that piece of clothing tightens around the wound, my eyes water.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“Tell me you can release a nondeadly gas now, preferably one that can make her unconscious.” I try getting up, but he motions for me to remain sitting. I eye my blood on his hands. That could’ve been his blood.

I can’t let that happen. Not to anyone. I want to stop that from happening, but I’m in no position to stop anything anytime soon. I can’t stop the fight taking place in front of us from afar. I can’t stop the battle taking place outside, at least not yet.

“Wait here.” I blink, and he’s still in front of me. I blink again, and he has joined up with Saamuki. She and Ashley are panting. Same movements but different expressions. Of course, Saamuki’s is more animated. Even when asked to move away from Shiitakee, she’s able to pronounce her personality, delicate and coordinated. Somehow powerful, too, as she tries to stride towards me. The robotic one, not entirely because of her inorganic parts but for her imitations at trying to act like how a person would in her situation, repositions herself. She readies herself to attack, which she does by forcing herself to bolt towards Shiitakee. She’s much slower, making it easy for Shiitakee to dodge her swings and eventually grab both her arms and headbutt her.

Ashley’s now crooked nose is bleeding. I wince, ignoring Saamuki asking if I’m okay. She continues to ignore her injuries by trying to land a hit on the much taller figure. Again, through her desperate attempts, Shiitakee grabs her. This time he pushes her back, and she hits the wall behind her. It’s then he finally releases a dark yellow gas, kind of gray. For the third time, she tries cutting into the threads that make up the vegetation’s body, she coughs too, but this attempt abruptly ends when she falls to the floor.

“We don’t have to worry about her for a while.” He points a thumb towards her then proceeds to carry me. I don’t relent because I don’t have the energy to. I won’t have any for a while. “So, how much time do we have left?”

“Well, we didn’t count on a full blown intergalactic battle to take place right now. So, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Damn. Okay, so how far away are we from our target?”

She gets out a map of the spaceship. She points at the lowest floor. “We’re here.” Her finger drifts upwards until it stops at the highest level. That should be a good hour of running at best. “My captain’s agent said he last saw Commander Knox in his chair about an hour before his ship made contact with Commander Zel.”

“So, we’re going to rely on the words of a Virmus?”

“No. Our best bet would be heading to the ship’s crystal.” That would cut my calculated time in half, but it’s still a long run, especially for Shiitakee, considering I will weigh him down until I can get my strength back. Her focus is turned to me as soon as her screen vanishes. “You should be healed by then.”

“Until she is, please tell me this ship isn’t like Syco’s. I mean yours. The bigger one, obviously. Does this ship have an elevator, especially one near here? I don’t care if that giant freezer’s door is forever locked. I want to get as far away from those things asap.”

Acoustic music, mainly the piano, played as we went up the elevator. The machine is in the shape of a cylinder. It would’ve been a tight squeeze with a Tauvox, but it’s just big enough for the three of us. Shiitakee tapped his foot to the beat and started singing, it sounded like a ballad, but it wasn’t good. I wished I didn’t have nanites because I wouldn’t be awake enough to hear this if I didn’t. I wouldn’t be alive at all. I may sound too harsh, but it was akin to a cat scratching its nails on a chalkboard, a boy going through puberty, or an old duck—an ancient one. I’m thankful for his kindness but not for what he claims is his singing voice. The ballad is apparently well-known. When Saamuki joined him, it sounded better because she could sing. Still, the sight makes me smile even though I’m in pain because even in dire moments, I am reminded of how not so dark the universe can be.

A feminine robotic voice announces we’ve arrived at the ship’s center. Shiitakee gently helps me back down. I feel where the wound is supposed to be. No cuts and guts, but plenty of blood is now stained there and on Shiitakee. I make this guilt obvious, but he brushes it aside and smiles. I can’t help but smile, too, as its metal door revolves past us. A glass door then is shown, and it too then spins past us, but now in front of us are two Tauvoxes. I haven’t seen either in some time, but like with Ashley, this isn’t the reunion Saamuki and I would’ve wanted. They growl.

“Lords damn it,” I groaned.

#229 #lost in space #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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talesofwight · 7 years

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Evil, Darkness, and the Pursuit of Justice - FFXIV Story

((Oh, hi. I did another big ol’ write up on the abstract adventures of my dear Rufus, once again dispensing some justice in the desert. Under the cut for because I don’t wanna destroy feeds with a 3.5k word thing.))

Despite his numerous and sometimes less-than-reputable deeds within Thanalan’s borders – and those outside it as well – he never expected to be contacted in the way he was. He held the letter up to the light that the nearby lamp offered, scrutinizing the parchment for the third time, as though this was the time that the halfway-elegant handwriting would offer up any deep-seated secret to him. Reading… No. Nothing had changed.

“Dear Master Wightman,” he began, reading the letter for now the fourth time, although out-loud, “I beseech your aid in ridding myself of a group of vicious bandits who seek to plunder my trade caravan. I beg of you, it is the only thing I have left outside of Thal’s realm. The Brass Blades will not offer a simple merchant as I any protection, and thus I must write to you. Know that your assistance will be greatly appreciated and compensated for. You will find me in the town of Vesper Bay until the end of the week if you decide to take me up upon my offer. Regards, Eddard Reede.”

Rufus turned the parchment over, giving the harmless paper one final scrutinizing glance. Satisfied with his thorough inspection, he pulled himself up from the chair he had been sitting on and laid the letter down on the desk before him. He looked around himself, sighing with a sadness. Here he was in his “home away from home” – now his main place of residence for the foreseeable future. A small apartment room in the complex erected within the Goblet. He had purchased this small domicile some time ago as a place to stay when business drew him closer to Ul’dah than anywhere else. It was close enough to home that he could negate the buyer’s remorse with it. And yet, here he was now. The room was sparsely decorated and quite plain. It had the necessities – a wardrobe, a gear locker, a bed, a bath and shower, and two desks, one for working, the other for eating. He stood before the one for working, squinting his eyes as he looked to the daylight streaming through the windows, the shafts of light illuminating a mass of dust motes floating idly in the air, having been kicked up from a lack of cleaning.

Damn it all… I could use the money, he reasoned to himself, wandering over to the far corner of the room where he had dragged him gear locker. An ancient, well-worn Immortal Flames footlocker, property of his late Father. Where he had gotten it, Rufus had no idea. It was enough to store his armour at least, and that’s what mattered. His new, recently-crafted great sword sat but a few fulms away, leaning against the wall in its black leather scabbard. A long, onyx-coloured blade, with a curved cross guard, and more black leather covering the hilt which lead to a wickedly-spiked pommel. It had cost him more than a pretty gil, but by the gods, it was worth it. Begrudgingly, he set about donning his gear for the job to come.

Rufus always liked Vesper Bay. Mostly. The quaint, port-side town was an avenue to adventure. Good fishing could also be had on a lucky day. The nearby tavern – “The Pissed Pieste” at least had friendly staff. There were some scant few improvements to be made, he noted. Chiefly the eyesore that was the gigantic bronze statue of Lord Lolorito. Gods, it was hideous. A close – but still second – issue ever was the proximity to the Garlean base sitting barely a malm out from the town. Why the fortification hadn’t been razed to the ground when the newly-reformed Eorzean Alliance took the Garleans to task was beyond him. It was of little consequence. He had a job and that was his priority. He looked to the spot where he was bid to wait for his client, finding the area empty. He frowned. Things were different now, but an unpleasant itch burned in the back of his head. He remembered how a little over a year passed, he had been ambushed by assassins and forced to commit a slaughter right in the town itself. Not something he liked to reflect upon.

He had found a spot of shade to wait in – the bare rays of the sun were too much for an extended time, dressed as he was in plate armour. It felt like two, perhaps three bells had passed, before finally a figure approached him, fidgeting and cautious. Rufus studied him – a Midlander, like he was. Only shorter, with darker skin and clothes that only a merchant trying to make a good impression would wear. His level of success was easy to gauge, going by the lack of rings adorning his fingers. Ul’dahn merchants seemed to have a fixation with trying to fit a ring on every one of their fat fingers. Rufus lifted a hand in polite greeting as the merchant approached.

“A-ah… a good day to you, Ser. I trust I have not been keeping you overlong?” He looked nervously up at the armoured figure, and the imposing great sword that hung from his back.

Rufus offered an easy smile, at the very least courteously pretending he didn’t mind the wait. “Nah, not at all. I’m just eager to get on with this job. As eager as you are to be out of here, judging by your message.”

The merchant Eddard swallowed quietly, nodding in agreement. “Aye, that I am. Been living in these walls like they was a prison, you see. They’re out there… those damned bandits! Preying on the good and decent folk! Gods bless folks like you! Standing up for us who can’t ourselves!”

“Ah-huh.” Rufus responded curtly, stepping towards the shrinking merchant. He only noticed now, but hints of a tattoo peeked out under the strands of frizzy, dark hair. “I’m not used to signing myself up for this sort of stuff. Usually trouble just has a habit of finding me, and I act. Besides, I have my own reasons, it’s not pure altruism that drives me.”

“Whatever the case may be, Ser, I praise the Twelve for having sent you. If you would wait for a short bit more, I will have my cart prepared for the trip. Thank you again, thank you!” Before Rufus could even respond, Eddard had already cleared some distance off to wherever his cart must’ve been.

A sigh passed Rufus’s lips. Suppose I’ll refill my water skin at the Pieste, he thought.

They had been on the road for a while now – so long that even Rufus had lost track. He who knew the roads of Thanalan like the back of his hand. The trip was proving to be that dull. Little had happened so far. His ears were filled with the monotonous sound of the cart wheels squeaking as they crossed the dry, sunbaked earth, the occasional shrill ‘kewh’ of the chocobo leading the cart, and the ramblings of his travel companion who had insisted on giving him a not-very-detailed explanation of economics. Rufus could almost feel his brain shutting off.

Thwip! A noise rushed past his ears.

What?

It took him a moment to realize that only mere ilms from his head, an arrow had embedded itself into the side of the cart just behind him. He blinked, feeling the rush of adrenaline filling his system. “Attack! Take cover, Eddard!” He didn’t even need to give the order. Moving at blinding speed, Eddard had already barreled into the back of the cart and pressed himself flat against the wood, silently muttering a panicked prayer, his entire body quivering.

With the knowledge that his charge was safe now unburdening him, he felt the familiar excitement wash over him. He reached up to his right shoulder and grasped the hilt of his sword, drawing it out into the air with a metallic hiss. Gods, did it feel good in his hands. He pushed down the admiration of the weapon, setting his sights on the ridge over yonder where the arrow had come from, squinting. He could see nothing. Just rocks, sand, and a cactus. A diversion? He thought, whirling and jogging as quickly as the metallic armour allowed to the other side of the cart, scanning quickly for any signs of attackers. Nothing. Maybe they saw him and ran?

It hit him suddenly – like a wall of invisible force, it collided with him. A spell. Dammit, he should’ve known better. His eyes suddenly felt heavy, his body succumbing to the weight of his armour so easily. A sleep spell… He thought. He tried to fight it, but it was no use. He felt his consciousness gradually slip away until…

Nothing.

His mind swam. He slowly awoke to the sound of a screaming voice – a familiar one, at that. His own, even.

“WAKE UP, DAMN YOU! I WON’T DIE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T OVERPOWER A DAMNED PARLOUR TRICK!”

As charming as ever, his dark side was. But at least he had been brought back to consciousness. And likely sooner than he would have if he didn’t have a separate piece of himself living within his subconscious.

For Halone’s sake – I’m back! Enough of the screaming. He sent the irritated message to the other inside him.

“Finally! You’ve been down for bells! Our eyes have been closed, so even I don’t know where we are. And the spell blocked me from taking over too, so you’d better get us out of this!”

He felt the presence sink back into his mind, to wherever it dwelled when it didn’t have a complaint to air. He focused, bringing himself back into control of his body. His eyelids fluttered open, and he saw gloom ahead and all around him. He wondered at what time it was, but noticed that there was no sky overhead, and the sounds of his struggling echoed around him. He was in a cave. He looked to the right where he noticed the faintest glimmer of light exuding from a crackling campfire. His hands and feet were bound, tied tight and disturbingly professionally. He grunted, struggling again. It appeared his actions had attracted some attention. The shadows played and danced across the cave wall as a figure at the campfire stood up, looked his way, and began to move towards him. It was too dark, and the campfire only made the figure more silhouetted, he couldn’t see—

“Enough of your struggling.” Called a rough, deep voice. “If you sit still, and behave like a good boy, you might see yourself going home with all your limbs intact.” The figure, large and burly, but too short to be a roegadyn – a highlander male, kneeled before him. “See, we only wanted a chat with your new friend. And to make you understand – he’s no good. You’ve been had, friend.”

“…Wha—what…?” Rufus mumbled, blinking and willing his eyes to adjust to the dimness enough to make out a face – something, anything! He heard a knife being drawn, and stopped suddenly as he felt a point digging into his throat.

“I tell you, your new merchant friend, ‘Eddard Reede’ as he goes by, is not who he claims to be. He used to be part of our band, see... Started to have misgivings. Wanted to live a different life. In exchange for immunity, he sold us out. Sent us into hiding. We’ve been tracking him for moons. Nymeia has a real sense of humour to her. He got his immunity, but the Blades wouldn’t lift a finger to help him. Funny how corruption can work in someone’s favour, eh? What’s that look for? Don’t believe me? You see the tattoo on the side of his head? That were our symbol!”

Rufus scowled, deeply. Less so at the man with the knife to his throat, and more at his own idiocy for not realizing something was amiss long before now. He sighed, relaxed against his bindings, and shot an annoyed look up at the man before him. “I did see a tattoo. But I’m not so easily convinced by the words of a lawless bandit.”

“Like you’ve got any right to talk. We know who you are. You’ve got a bit of a reputation around this desert – slayer of corrupt Blades, and ‘hero’ to the abused. You’ve as little respect for the law as the rest of us. Don’t try and be all high and mighty now.”

It stung, but he wasn’t wrong. Indeed, Rufus had done a great many things of questionable moral leaning in his pursuit of his ideal “justice”. He believed they were the right thing to do, however. He was no bandit. “Fine – fine. Let’s say you’ve convinced me. Why keep me here any longer?”

“So you can watch.” The highlander replied grimly, pointing to the opposite wall of the cave where, for the first time, Rufus noticed another figure, bound in the dark as he was.

A disgruntled noise left Rufus’s throat. He watched as the faceless bandit withdrew his knife, stood up, turned around, and walked towards ‘Eddard’, who was lying completely still against the stone. The bandit reached out and forcefully slapped the Midlander across the face, the echo resounding for a good moment after.

“Agh! Ye right bastard! Do that ‘gain an’ I’ll rip yer fuckin’ guts our an’ stake them to the Sultantree an’ have ye start runnin’ laps!” ‘Eddard’ suddenly yelled in a tone completely antithetical to his earlier one. He let out an angry noise and wriggled against his bonds, cursing and spitting all the while.

“As you can see,” began the bandit leader in a tone loud enough to reach Rufus’s ears, “this is the man who hired you for protection against us ‘vicious bandits’. The good Arnis Striker himself!”

“Plough yerself, Turold! Ye big sack o’ fuckin’ chocobo shite!” Arnis roared back.

The highlander, now identified as Turold, turned away with a laugh and walked back over to Rufus, kneeling again. “So you see, mister Wightman, that though we are bandits, we’re not the bad ones here. He probably hoped you’d have slaughtered us all – me and my lads, and when he was done with you, probably would’ve poisoned you and tossed your body into a chasm. We’ve spared you, if anything. So if I cut you free of these bonds, do I have your word that you’ll leave here and never speak a word of it?”

What had he gotten himself into? Here he was, bound and at the mercy of a cutthroat, having been hired by a former cutthroat who was just as disingenuous, if not more so. It annoyed him. So much so that he began to feel the cold, pricking sensation of rage welling up within him.

“Ooh… I know that feeling.” Called a voice from close by, yet impossibly beyond reach.

“Fine. This is none of my business anymore.” Rufus responded in a calm tone. “I want nothing to do with it.” He lied, and he lied well. His expression was unshifting – uncaring. He slowly begun to prime his aether, spreading a cold, dark sensation throughout his entire body.

“Rufus!” Arnis called from the other side of the cave. “Bloody save me! Do what I were payin’ ye to do! We can still have a deal! Ye’ll get paid, we’ll go our own ways, and ye’ll never hear o’ me again!” There was a twinge of desperation in his voice. Fear, even. It only fueled the darkness.

Turold, ignoring Arnis, unsheathed his knife and cut the ropes tying Rufus’s hands and feet. He took several steps back just after, maintaining some wariness of the stranger. It was probably wise. “So… one of my men will hand you your effects on your way out. And that’ll be the end of it. No funny business either. Remember – you’re without any weapons.”

Rufus rose, slowly. His body still felt numb from the effects of the sleep spell that had been cast upon him. He tested his hands, his feet, shaking off the metaphorical rust. He looked at Turold, smiling. It was a nice, simple smile. But… there was something else – something fiendish that was almost imperceptible, but it grew as he spoke. “So, I leave, and it means there is still a gang of bandits hanging around, and doing gods-know-what, or I stay, and complete the job I was hired for, having spared the life of a seemingly unrepentant bandit. One evil, or another.” He felt his aether begin to surge, the darkness within him seething. Inky-black smoke began to roll off his body, a crimson fire suddenly igniting in his pupils. “That’s the thing about evil. If I’m to choose between one or the other…” he trailed off, holding his right hand out to the open air as where there was nothing before, a hilt suddenly materialized in his grasp in a burst of aether. It expanded outwards, forming what ended up being a frightening great sword that seemed to be made a texture like wrought-iron, with glowing lines carved into the length of the blade that pulsed with power.

“I’d rather not choose at all.” He finished.

Turold was in shock – as many who were witnessing this power for the first time were. He fumbled for something at his hip, he knew his dagger would be useless here. He had barely managed to grasp the hilt of the longsword at his side before noticing that most of his forearm of his right hand was suddenly missing, only a blood-spurting stump remaining. He opened his mouth to scream, but simply could not. The shock was preventing it. He barely had time to lift his non-stump hand in a desperate defensive motion, before his last sight was that of the faintly-glowing edge of a monstrous blade coming towards his head.

Arnis watched in open-mouthed silence as the headless, one-handed form of his old friend and colleague Turold dropped to the cave floor with a heavy, wet thud. Even in the dim light, he could see the pool of blood gradually expanding around him. His heart begun to beat faster, picking up to a frantic pace, as he set his eyes on what might as well have been the living embodiment of a demon – a being of smoke and rage. Vivid crimson eyes stared out at him in the blackness, and he was overcome with fear. “LADS, HE’S BLOODY KILLED TUROLD. ‘E IS A FUCKIN’ DEVIL! HELP! HELP M—” His cry was cut short, as the dark-wreathed figure dashed forward and swung his blade at the bound target, the cave wall acting as a vertical chopping block. With a sickening crunch, the great sword embedded itself into the wall behind Arnis, his head sloughing to the ground.

The rest of the gang of bandits had already hopped to their feet in the sudden panic. There were five of them in all. Two miqo’te, an elezen and two hyur. They stared on in abject fear as they watched the figure that seemed to draw all the darkness of the cave towards itself unwrench its blade from solid rock, stood over a freshly-headless corpse in a pile of its own gore. The elezen was the first to react – the spellcaster who was the whole reason Rufus had even ended up in here. He tried to cast the same spell, to put the hyur back down. As he thrust forth his staff, the incantation complete… nothing.

Somewhere, in the back of his rage-addled mind, Rufus felt the twinge of a familiar spell assaulting him. Things were different now. He was angry. His anger flowed through him, strengthened him against the effect of the spell. He let out a mocking cackle as he shrugged it off, gripping the hilt of his blade in both hands. “That won’t work this time!” He yelled in a rough, intimidating tone. He suddenly set forth at a run, closing the distance between he and the group. They fumbled for their weapons, but by then, it was already too late. The sounds of carnage filled the cave.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he eventually calmed down. The battle had long since passed. He stood there amidst a heap of crumpled, dismembered bodies, bathed in blood not his own. This wasn’t unusual. He left out a long, heavy breath and looked to the great sword in his hand. It always did drain his aether quickly. He opened the hand and let the unwieldy weapon fall. Before it could hit the ground, it disappeared in a burst of sparkling energy which soon dissipated into nothing. Silence again took the cave. Not for long, as he set about rummaging through the area to find his discarded belongings. A matter which took little time. He checked the back of the now chocobo-less carriage to find his gear in a neat bundle in the back. Beside the bundle of gear was, evidently, Arnis’s belongings. Or more accurately, his savings. A large sack of gil, at that. Rufus reached out, taking the sack in both hands and inspected the contents. He blinked, shocked by the amount. It would last him a while.

He departed the cave shortly after. Night had indeed set in, but Rufus wasn’t worried. He knew the roads of Thanalan like the back of his hand, after all. And now there was one less gang of bandits stalking the sands. He’d even gotten paid for his troubles. If anyone was to ever come across the cave, how would they possibly know he had done it? They wouldn’t. He didn’t need to concern himself. He thought instead about what he wanted to do.

Maybe it’s time I finally take that trip to the Far East, he thought.

#ffxiv #ic stories #Rufus Wightman #hyur #midlander #balmung #DRK #if you can't tell the two things I am inspired most by are Berserk and the Witcher #I can't help it okay it's not my fault jeez

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