#(blocking the enemy; getting the high ground; needing your archers to be at the right vantage point) all very fun

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Corentin ref sheet!

Translation notes:

The first part (with blond Corentin) and the second part (with dark-haired Corentin) had really similar text with just a few small wording differences. I tried to catch the differences where I could, but I still feel like I might have missed a few connotative nuances.

"Uncle-like figure" was literally translated as "uncle"--I'm guessing they just meant it in a sort of metaphorical sense, so I put "uncle-like figure." Something like "older man" or "moderately-aged man" might have been a more natural English translation.

I'm still not 100% sure what they're saying with the note on the cloak's symbol. From context, I think the choice that the writer is referring to is using the Ministry symbol vs. the Hyzante national symbol, but the wording makes it sound like they're discussing a choice between the Ministry symbol vs. any symbol that will show up on the smaller pixel sprites. I feel like I might have misunderstood something there, but I couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

More of a fun fact, but "Hyzante" was sometimes translated over as "High Sand"--the wordplay hadn't occurred to me before, so it was kinda interesting!

[votestaynight]

11th day - "DragonSlay" (scene 5)

"Ha――!" The instant Saber is flung away, I fire at Berserker. This won't hurt him. But it should at least take his attention off Saber――!

"Wha――?" The arrow that hits Berserker's temple does nothing. I can't even get his attention. The giant does not block… no, he doesn't even care about my attack.

"That's right, Berserker. Forget about Shirou. We can work on him after we kill Saber."

Ilya's laugh echoes through the forest. "Dammit…!" I can't do anything. Saber's about to collapse in front of me and I can't do anything.

――I'm too weak. I can't hurt Berserker no matter what I do. All I'm doing is distracting Saber――!

――A strong blow. Saber, repelling that attack, has her feet driven into the ground up to her ankles. The blows are heavy and fast. The axe-sword flying above Saber's head strikes like lightning. The sword shaves off some of her armor as she flings herself away and breaks the ground.

"…!!" I feel like I'll grind my teeth down. Am I unable to do anything after all? I can't protect Saber nor fight alongside her. There's nothing I can do. All I can do is――

――In that case, at least imagine it After all, that is the only thing you can do.

"―――――" That guy said so.

――You do not need outside enemies. For you, the one you need to fight is none other than your own image.

…That's right. What was he saying? It wasn't his usual harassment. Those words held an importance that I need to understand right now. ――No, saying that… Weren't all of his words a warning that I shouldn't have ignored?

Saber's body is flung away. She didn't jump to get away. She took a blow. That storm-like blow landed right on her side.

Saber totters. Concentrating strength into her numb fingers, she faces Berserker again, coughing violently. The giant will not miss the opening Saber has finally shown.

"――Don't…." My voice won't reach them. It's useless for me to say anything, and it's useless for me to have a bow mimicking Archer's.

Do I still not understand? What I can do. What I should be doing. That's right. What do I need in order to save Saber?

A bow won't do. Even a lance won't be able to pierce him. And that doesn't mean I should have the same weapon as the enemy. That giant… To defeat that mountain, I'll need a sword. A sharp and gorgeous sword of the king that will defeat the enemy in one blow. Like… That golden sword so suited to her, that I saw in my dreams.

"Ku――" ――My head hurts. Bearing my nausea, I still stare at Saber. But ironically, I feel like I'm going crazier the more I stare at her about to collapse. Saber and Berserker's movements seem to be in slow motion. Many switches are arranged in a row. Coughing, Saber bends her body in pain for an instant. Berserker smashes down his axe-sword with all his might. As if making a line, the firing hammers move into position one by one. It seems like knocking down dominos―― The triggers are pulled all at once.

"Saber…!" Berserker's blow smashes Saber away. It's fatal. Saber's body is split through the waist, and her pieces are thrown into the air.

"No――that's not right…!" The only thing flung into the air is Saber's armor. Berserker only smashed Saber's armor. Saber created an opening to make Berserker take a large swing――and Saber charges in at top speed using all the energy she has left…!

"□□□□□□□□□――!!" A black howl surges out. But he can't retreat from Saber, who is right in front of him. She places both hands on her sword and slashes at Berserker with all her might――!

"□□□□□□□□□□□□" ――I can't believe it. The giant that seemed to be rooted to the ground is smashed back a few meters by Saber's blow.

And then… "Get back, Saber…!" The true final attack is executed instantly.

――She must intend to fire from as close as possible. Tohsaka jumps down from the branch high above and throws her jewels as she descends―― "Neun, Acht, Sieben――! Stil, schießt Beschießen, Erschie Ssung――!" A rain of ice whirls down. In it, three giant icicles shaped like spears have enough magical energy concentrated in them to blow away a whole mansion――!

"No, dodge it, Berserker…! Ilya, who was only watching until now, screams. She must have realized how dangerous that attack is, but it's too late. The spear of ice isn't just falling. As it's fired, it is accelerating to skewer Berserker.

There's no way he would be able to dodge it. A once in a lifetime opportunity. A shotgun of ice perfectly coordinated with Saber's desperate attack. It has enough magical energy in it to be able to kill Berserker――!

But. "□□□, □□□□□□□□□――!!!!!" He swings his axe-sword through the air. Even as he's pushed back by Saber, he destroys three blocks of ice with his quickly readied axe-sword.

――Splashes of blood. Perhaps because he swung with only one arm, the ice is not completely destroyed and it lacerates his arm. Not only that. The ice refreezes on the giant's arm and stops its movement completely.

But still, it got only one of his arms. "Wha――?" Saber raises her voice. ――It's only natural. Because Berserker's other arm has grabbed Tohsaka's body as she descended onto him.

"…!" Tohsaka's face contorts in pain. With Berserker's power, it should be no problem to crush Tohsaka.

"T-Tohsaka――!!!" I run. I don't care if I'm only dragging her down. I don't care if I can't do anything. I won't let him crush Tohsaka――!

"Rin…!" Saber must not have any power left to stand, but she still lifts her body. "……" Tohsaka must be in pain as she reaches out with her face downcast.

"――Heh. Just as I thought." She smiles and speaks boldly.

"…!" Everyone gasps. Saber, I, and even Berserker must have frozen. ――She's horrible. She knew this was going to happen, yet never told us about it――!

"□□□□□□□□□□□□――!" Berserker puts power into his grip. But it's a second too late. "Got you…!"

Bullets of light are fired. Four jewels are used. The rapid fire from perfect point-blank range kills the black mad warrior for sure this time.

No. It has splendidly, perfectly blown away his life.

Did Berserker's head get blown off? Blood splatters over me and I'm at least ten meters away.

…Uh, is this his spinal fluid? I can't be too happy about it when there are things other than blood mixed in it. …But I'm sure it wasn't overkill. He was a monster. I bet Tohsaka would've been crushed if she didn't blow off his head in a single blow.

"――Phew." I slow my running steps. Tohsaka is still held by Berserker, but the battle is over. Berserker's face is still covered in white smoke. From the smoldering sounds, it must have been a huge explosion――

"――No way." I hear Tohsaka's voice. She is looking into the white smoke, dumbfounded.

――Hold on. Is it… just my imagination? Berserker's fingers holding Tohsaka are digging deeper into her?

"―――――" Tohsaka is just staring at the white smoke. …But it doesn't last long. The large cloud of white smoke fades away. In it… …Is Berserker's face, though it was certainly blown away.

"――Oh." Tohsaka is at a loss for words, cowed by the demonic stare. "…Fufu. Ufufu. Ahahahahahahaha!" Laughter echoes through the clearing. The silver Master controlling Berserker from the edge of the clearing is laughing.

"I have a better opinion of you now, Rin. For you to kill Berserker even once. But it's too bad. Berserker won't disappear just from that, because he has a body that won't die unless he's killed twelve times."

"…Killed… twelve times…?" She must have figured out something important from Ilya's words. Tohsaka's eyes are strained in faint regret.

"…I see. I should have thought of that as soon as I learned he was Hercules. Hercules should have the Bow of Hydra, but he only carried a rock. …So his Noble Phantasm isn't something like that. The symbol of the hero Hercules is――"

"Yes, his body itself is his Noble Phantasm. You should know too about Hercules' twelve labors. The Greek hero Hercules overcame twelve tasks to atone for his sins and became 'immortal' as a reward. You know what that means, right?" "…A stock of lives… multiple layers of resurrection magic, huh?"

"Yes. So he can't die easily. He lives through deaths equaling the number of labors he overcame, the curse of immortality. That's Berserker's Noble Phantasm, God Hand."

"Do you get it? Berserker died from the attack right now, but he still has five more lives. Fufu, too bad Rin. Berserker would have disappeared if you used five times the jewels you just used."

I can't hear Ilya too well. I see Saber run up to Berserker out of the corner of my eye.

"――Please run, Rin!" Saber dashes to her. Tohsaka tries to tear off Berserker's fingers, but they won't even budge. Then…

"It's fine, Berserker. You can crush her."

The burning eyes glare at Tohsaka. "Ahh――kua…! Tohsaka screams. The giant's fingers dig in as if to scoop out Tohsaka's guts. What lies ahead is that inescapable figure of her, miserably crushed.

"―――――" I run. I forget who I'm against or where I am. My mind has already burned up.

"――Stop…!!" Saber slashes at Berserker. The invisible sword is swung at Berserker's defenseless arm as if chopping a vegetable. But it has no effect.

The sword bounces back. Not only does it not hurt Berserker's arm, but it does not even loosen Berserker's grip on Tohsaka. "――!" It must be painful for her to even move. Saber swings her sword desperately as blood spills from her mouth.

"Wha――Shirou…!?" Her face freezes as she sees me run up to Berserker.

"Let her go, you bastard――!" I smack my bow against his back. The giant does not budge. It must think nothing of me at all.

"…!" My fingers are numb. What kind of a body does he have if I, the one doing the hitting, have my hands go numb――!?

"Please run, Shirou――!" …Huh? I raise my face at Saber's voice. In that instant. My body flies through the air like a leaf.

"――Gah." I drop like a piece of trash. ――Berserker smacked me with that frozen sword. The bow I instantly blocked with is easily smashed, and I'm thrown so… far――

"Gah――ah, haa――!!!" I writhe in pain. The breaking sound was not from the bow. One of my arms is bent like a spider's. Breathing hurts so much that I want to smash my lungs up.

"Ha… ah, guh…!" I can't breathe right from the blood coming up my throat. But it doesn't matter. Breathing will just make me pass out. I shouldn't be breathing right now.

"Ha――Haa, haa――!" I get up. Right now, I have to――

I run. It's my turn this time. I'll break his arm and save Tohsaka. He must have eyes on the back of his head as he swings his sword as if flinging away a bug.

I can dodge it. I won't be hit by something swung with a frozen arm――!

"Haa――" Damn, my body is sinking…! It must have scraped my leg. Damn it, don't break my leg when you haven't even hit it――!

"No way――that is enough, please get away, Master…!" I can't do that. I won't let Tohsaka die. What do I need to save her?

A weapon. A blade would be good. At my feet are the remains of the destroyed bow. Above me is Berserker's sword coming down. I pick up a broken piece. Descending sword. There's no time to think. I channel my magical energy into it. I easily succeed at strengthening it. But the sword comes down. The broken piece is totally smashed this time. My body, that should have dodged the blow collapses. So there was no meaning in strengthening such a broken piece. If I am to do it again, I have to do it from the very beginning. Nothing should be impossible. If there's a model, anyone can imitate it. So I have to repeat the foundation, composition, work, experience, time and――

"□□□□□□□□□□□□" The giant turns. It must have decided to kill this annoying nuisance before Tohsaka.

"――" Raising my body, I glare at the giant. I have no fear. My mind has already burned up. But behind me…

Prepared even for her own elimination, Saber is determined to use her holy sword.

[good-beans]

Since I currently have fire emblem fates and leo and talumi brainrots I am gonna send you some precise scenarious.

Ok but you know that when you pair up two units then after some action they will block attacks? While in game is a total no damage I think this may also have potential for angst. What if instead of a full no sell the paired unit that protected the lead took the damage for them? So I propose this:

What if Leo and Takumi paired up and one of them ended up protecting the other from an attack and ending up reallu badly injuried. To be more clear on how serious the situation is: The attack cause them to lose coscience right after/ just some minutes after taking it

Choose you who takes the attack to save the other. Then how would you think the other would react.

Also if you wanna you can also add some fluffy things for the aftermarth!

You caught me at a good time, the writing motivation was really flowing and so here's a little thing plus some headcanons 👀

First of all, you gotta love that drama of paired units actually taking damage for the other 😭 I'm going to keep thinking of that whenever my units defend each other and get Sappy about it now.....

Basically I think if Leo over took a shot for Takumi, there'd be instant regret and a bit of panic since he never expected the other to do something so caring for him. I also included Takumi showing trust to the other Nohrians because I feel like that's the surest sign of love from him -- only a very strong connection could convince him to trust his 'enemies.' (It also includes a small headcanon I have that since the countries have incredibly different magic systems, for a long time they make no effort to understand the other's)

Thank you for this!! I always love hearing fe brainrot ideas omg :0

A flurry of arrows took down all the enemies in the vicinity. Takumi strung another at lightning speed, finishing off another foe.

“That was easy,” he said, angling his head at the other. “Impressed yet, Your Highness?” The nickname had started out as an insult, but it seemed to lose it’s sting each time Takumi said it. Leo rolled his eyes.

“I’m impressed you’ve won any battles in your life, with this behavior.” Not that Leo was complaining. There were very few archers in Nohr’s military ranks, and he was rather amazed at Takumi’s skills. He’d excuse his staring because of the legendary bow, if anyone asked.

“Aw, you’re just jealous that the Hoshidans can have a little fun!” He gave a mischievous smirk, but the two were interrupted by shouts from the battlefield. The enemy regrouped much quicker than expected. Leo spotted a mage charging up a nasty spell, his eyes locked on the pair. The enemy was too far for Leo to reach, but his counterpart could surely make such a shot.

He waited for Takumi’s attack, but saw that he was distracted by Hinoka’s calls for help. “Takumi, over there –”

The enemy let the spell fly.

“Look out!” Leo shouted, shoving the other out of the way of an oncoming attack. He held up a glowing hand to try ward it away, but it did little use against the powerful blast. He stumbled back a few steps as it struck. Then he turned to Takumi with a breathless “you need to concentrate.”

“I was doing just fine…” Takumi drew his bow, shooting at the mage.

“Just fine? You’d be dead if a curse like that struck you head-on!”

“I’m not as weak as you think I am, I could have taken it.” Takumi scanned the area for more enemies, but it seemed the coast was truly clear this time. “No need to worry that pretty little head over me.” It took a moment to process what he’d even said. Was the other worried about him? He’d been so mortified, he hadn’t even thought of offering his thanks.

He glanced over, finding Leo with his head bent low. “Hey, no need to get all mopey. I only meant – Leo? Leo!”

The prince’s knees buckled, and Takumi dropped his bow to catch him. He lowered Leo to the ground. He lay completely still besides a faint glow where the attack had struck.

“Come on, get up! What happened?”

Takumi’s face paled. He knew little about magic, but Leo said the spell could have killed him. Did that mean…?

He shook the young man gently. “Come on, get up you Nohrian scum. Wake up, you hear me?” No response. His voice pitched, a bit more frantic. “Damnit, Leo!”

He snapped his gaze to his comrades. “I need help over here! I need – ah, Camilla!” He had always hated the woman, but she was the closest fighter with any knowledge of Nohrian magic. He didn’t think twice before crying out to her, “I need your help!”

As she made her way to him, Leo’s eyes fluttered open for just a moment.

“Hey!” Takumi breathed a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “You’re gonna be alright, you hear? You’re gonna be alright. Leo –” he had slipped back into unconsciousness, but Takumi continued anyway. “Thank you. Thank you for saving me.”

-----

Now, if this situation was reversed, I think Leo would snap into control freak mode, clearing his mind of literally everything except helping Takumi. He'd feel a lot of guilt about it, which would only motivate him to fix the situation quicker.

While I used magic in my story, but both strike me as the brand of Stupid Boy TM who would totally get stabbed and then hide it/deny it for an entire battle because they don't want to seem weak to the other omg

I didn't end up writing sappy aftermath but I'm definitely thinking about them hanging around their sickbed, being so worried they snap at healers for not doing a good enough job, and quickly trying (and failing) to replace their relief with snark and sarcasm as soon as the other wakes up ;-;

[quillandink333]

Courage

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Vampire!Link AU

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.2k

WARNINGS: blood and gore, near-death experiences, nudity

Summary: In defiance of his creator, Link risks his life over and over as he fights to protect Zelda’s, but then watches his world crumble as she does the same for him.

Masterlist

“Highness!”

An electric arrow flew at her from above. I deflected it in the nick of time, skidding against the rainforest’s damp soil.

The scaly eyes of the monster who’d fired lased into me, just like those of all the rest as they emerged and made themselves known. I hissed, outwitted. We were surrounded, having just walked into the clearing before the Spring of Courage, but we hadn’t been expecting company. And now, there was nowhere to take cover.

One of the unholy creatures leapt out at us from behind. We would’ve been done for if I hadn’t heard its approach in time. I drew my blade and dealt with it swiftly, but this battle was far from won.

The lizalfi were cunning, more so than they appeared. They’d blended in with their surroundings, only revealing themselves when we’d walked straight into the heart of their trap. They were nine, ten...twelve in number, half of them foot soldiers and the rest archers.

“Link...?”

“It’s alright,” I asserted, though I had to admit the validity of my statement was questionable at best. “Just stay close.”

My sword and shield clattered as they hit the ground. “Wait,” she stammered, “what are you—?”

I crouched down and closed my eyes. The image of my enemy’s blackening corpse strewn across the ground beneath me devoured my thoughts and claimed my focus.

Soon enough, my arms turned thin and leathery, my legs melted away, and the corners of my vision were blurred and bloody.

With my new wings, I soared high above the stone pillar.

The monster at its vertex jerked its head up.

I dove down. My body changed shape, and I landed feet-first on top of my victim, causing it to plummet to its doom.

I leapt to the ground, retrieving the sword and finishing it off with one final blow.

“Link—ahh!”

I turned. Time froze when I saw the princess backed up against a tree with two lizalfi closing in on her.

One grabbed her wrist between its claws. My throat clenched in anger.

Thinking quickly, I picked up the bow of the fallen archer and shot an electric arrow right into the nape of her attacker’s neck. It spasmed a few times, letting go of her before collapsing to the ground at her feet, dead.

The other turned its head. In response, I shot a second arrow through its eye socket and into its skull.

But when I reached for another arrow, my hand was seized, and I was pinned to the ground.

The princess screamed out my name as I wrestled with the enemy, but it had me immobilized. I could hear the pitter-patter of the others’ footsteps fast approaching, and saw countless shock arrows wizzing overhead. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t get the damned thing off me.

So I closed my eyes again.

The creature that had been holding me down squawked in confusion. I fluttered out of its grasp with ease. If I still had my face, I would’ve been smirking in triumph.

The archers were still firing away at me, but their aim was off by a mile as always. It was even harder to hit me now that I presented a much smaller and faster target.

Assessing the battle field, I counted three on foot and five ranged remaining. I spotted one try to pick up the sword, jumping back when its hand began to sizzle. I took this chance to shift back and reclaim my weapon.

It didn’t take me long from there to eliminate the three left on the ground. All the while, I was careful to keep Her Highness in my line of sight.

Until one of the archers shifted its aim from me to her.

I raced to her side at once. The arrow flew, and I blocked it with no more than half a second to spare.

Then one of them rushed at us, catching me off-guard.

I swung my sword out, and it leapt back.

I could’ve sworn I’d taken care of all the ones on foot. Could one of the archers have abandoned its post?

“Are you alright?”

The question caught me even more off-guard. “Yes, Princess,” I stuttered, trying to focus on fighting off my opponents. “Get to the spring.”

She nodded and made a break for the stone serpent’s mouth.

Then I heard a low grunt. Her footsteps halted.

Rising to its feet in front of her was none other than a towering, third-class moblin.

Another bolt just barely missed my ankle. It purged me of my paralysis, and I dodged it. I looked back just in time to see the brute raising its club above her.

“Zelda!”

She screamed and darted out of the way. I thanked Ganon for making these boorish behemoths as slow as they were.

“Keep running!” I ordered, blocking another lightning-fast attack. “Don’t look back!”

She was terrified. I heard it in the way she gasped for air as she fled. I should’ve known better than to give way to overconfidence. Now my grip was shaky, my movements frenzied, and I was starting to panic.

I advanced, but the spineless freak just kept leaping back miles out of reach. The three left with bows were still firing away at me. I shouted out in futile aggravation. I’d lost my shield some time ago while transforming, leaving my left side wide open. I could no longer see the princess, though I still heard her frantic footsteps, as well as her pursuer’s.

I had to get back up on my feet somehow, or else her blood truly would be on my hands this time.

I sprinted over to where a bow and quiver full of shock arrows were lying deserted. My opponent, after a moment of standing there in confusion, chased after me.

I turned and thrusted the tip of my blade through its open palm.

It screeched dramatically. This gave me an opening. I grasped it and slashed the creature’s throat open once and for all.

The loud rustling of palm leaves caught the attention of one of the archers.

Standing to the left of the spring’s entrance was the princess, frozen in fear. The black moblin was sluggishly approaching her from behind.

The lizalfos took aim. She gasped and turned around, but then came face-to-face with the pig-snouted giant.

Then she took even me by surprise and ducked between its legs.

The moblin stumbled. Then before it’d had the chance to recover, the archer let loose its arrow, which hit the beast right in its thigh. Lightning surged throughout its lanky form before it collapsed on its front.

I held my breath.

But it got back up again like nothing had happened. Of course that wouldn’t have been enough to kill it, as I had hoped. Soon, it turned back around and continued its dreaded hunt.

I’d missed my chance. “Damn it...” Now it was impossible for me to hit it with the projectiles at my feet, and I had the attention of all three archers back on me.

I picked up the bow and arrows and ran. There had to be some position that was ideal for shooting down the last of these fiends.

I maneuvered across the battlefield until all three of them were in view. They were farther away than I would’ve liked, but this would have to do. Besides, this way I was far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hit me with their inferior aim whilst I pierced their throats one after another.

Finally, the last one fell from its post and into the water below, vanquished.

“Ough!”

I spotted Her Highness, sprawled out on the staircase at the spring’s entrance. She must have tripped on her way down.

Time stopped, yet again, as the monster emerged from the shadows, poised to strike.

The defenceless princess didn’t so much as scream, merely watching her fate unfold in complete, mortal terror.

The beast swung its mace.

I nearly tripped myself as I leapt in front of her, parrying the death blow, but just barely.

The enemy staggered back. I charged forward.

My aim was true.

The blade cleaved clean through its torso, exiting out through its backside. Its thick, black ichor sprayed all over my arm when I took it out. The beast fell to the ancient pavement slowly and heavily, shaking the earth as it landed.

My chest was heaving violently. By the time I looked down, the gore staining the sword had already burned away. Arms shaking in exhaustion, I returned it to its sheath, wiping the sweat from my brow.

“Link...”

I swivelled when the princess’ frail voice called me. She hadn’t moved from her position on the steps, twisting at the waist to look up and face me. She seemed just as drained as I felt, if not more so. Other than that, though, she hadn’t sustained any serious injuries from what I could see. All she had were a few small scrapes and bruises here and there.

Then it hit me. The front of her white dress was sopping wet, and I’d been staring at her for well over a minute. I immediately averted my gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment crawl beneath my skin.

“What?” she worried. “What’s the matter?”

Without looking, I cleared my throat suggestively. When that evidently hadn’t gotten the message across, I muttered, “You’re drenched.”

“Ah...” She looked down, noticing the exposed state she was in. “I just...fell into the spring a couple of times,” she blushed. “You don’t have to look away, though. I-I trust you.”

There was that phrase again. That utterly ridiculous phrase that she’d been using with me for the past month or so.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out my hand to help her to her feet.

The few drops of sacred spring water left on her palm hissed softly as they made contact with my skin. I winced. The pain was small, but excruciating.

“Oh my Goddess,” she gasped, loosening her grasp on my hand and poring over it. A few small cracks had formed in my palm, from which a few wisps of smoke had risen. “I’m so sorry,” she deliberated. “Are you alright? Do you need—”

“I’m fine, Your Highness,” I interrupted, gripping her fingers gently in demonstration. She looked up at me, uncertainty lingering in her expression, then back at my hand.

My own gaze landed on her wrist. Through the intricate metalwork of her wristband, an array of three puncture wounds, each secreting thin threads of dark red, could be seen. The memory of the monster’s filthy talons penetrating her precious, delicate skin flashed through my mind’s eye.

I cursed quietly. Once again, my infernal hate had taken hold of me and obstructed my ability to fulfill my sworn duty to her. I’d tried to fight it, but it was inescapable. I bit my lip, swallowing back a sigh. The worst part of it all was how I now found myself struggling to tear my eyes away from the blood seeping out of her wounds, further proving that I was no different from the monsters from which I was trying my hardest to protect her.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked again, tone tender and brimming with warmth. I nodded; it was all I could bring myself to do.

It was not my place to listen in on her prayer. However it was difficult not to when she was such a short distance away. Tuning her out was quite the challenge, as soft-spoken as she tended to be during these rituals of hers. Besides, I couldn’t help but be intrigued.

The things she spoke to the Goddess about were shocking to me. I hadn’t the slightest clue about how formal or intimate one was expected to be when speaking with Her, but the princess seemed to have no qualms with confiding in Her just about anything. Once, during one of these pilgrimages, she’d even confessed to Her that I was in fact a day keese. It was likely that She’d already known this about me, but even so, if I’d ever been so obscenely foolhardy as to confess my betrayal of Lord Ganon to His own face, I would’ve been stricken down on the spot.

After a while, it became apparent to me that the princess had gone quiet. This was more than a little unsettling. I kept my back turned respectfully, but kept my ears trained just the same.

Splosh

My heart sank. I turned around, just in time to see her hand fall below the surface of the water.

I didn’t think twice before diving in after her.

The water penetrated my clothes the instant I stepped in. It went up to my knees. I couldn’t withhold my wail of blinding agony. My legs were like sandcastles, and the spring, a riptide.

It took every sliver of strength left in my body to reach the princess. By the time I had her safe in my arms, I could no longer feel my feet. There was no way I could get her back to dry land by carrying her. The one choice I had left was to hurl her unmoving form as far as I could and hope for the best. So, with a silent apology, that’s just what I did.

I was forced to crawl my way back to dry land; I no longer had the physical capacity to remain standing. To my immense relief, she was there on the concrete, safe and breathing.

Until now, I hadn’t had the chance to truly feel the searing pain consuming what remained of my body. My flesh was cracked and crumbling, and the water had soaked through each little crevice deep into my brittle constitution. If I wasn’t careful, my body would’ve lost any resemblance to a Hylian it had left.

When it had become strenuous to continue drawing breath, I realized I wasn’t long for this world. And yet, as I gazed upon the princess’ unmoving form whilst my surroundings faded to black, I smiled. At long last, I could bid farewell to this dastardly life of mine.

I awoke with a slight weight on my chest and a warm, bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. A series of coughs wracked my already broken body as the familiar liquid ran slowly down my throat. I opened my eyes.

“Link...?”

The face that greeted me was veiled in heavenly, golden light. I squinted. For a moment, I was certain I was looking straight into the eyes of an angel. Then my vision adjusted. Of course, I realized, no angel would ever shine half as brightly as she.

Her hand, planted firmly at the back of my head, encouraged it forward, until my lips sealed shakily around the weeping slit in her neck once again. As I drank obediently, I began wondering if she’d made the incision herself. Something about it felt sickeningly wrong. Even so, I was too numb, too fatigued, and too delirious to do anything about it.

I regained consciousness gradually, becoming more and more aware of our situation as she slid down my throat one swallow at a time. Her blood was like finely aged wine, pleasantly burning my insides as it went down. All the while, I could feel my body recovering its structure. The cracks and chips littering my skin dissolved one by one, and before long, my legs had pieced themselves back together. Now I could feel the cool mists of Faron, as well as the warmth of her bare flesh, clinging to my own.

It was around that time that I finally came to my senses. My tongue traced over the smooth edges of the lesion, making her tense up against me. I jerked back.

For the first time since waking, I was able to get a good look at her neck. The cut was fairly small, but the way it gaped and pulsed—staring back at me and perceiving each and every one of my innermost thoughts like the all-seeing eyes of our Father—forced me to look away. I could hear His petrifying voice even then.

I let my fearful gaze meander, coming across her and my clothes, which were still damp with spring water from the looks of it. Then my eyes landed on my sword, lying unsheathed on the pavement a few feet away. A corner of its blade was stained with crimson.

I shed a silent tear. “Why...?”

“‘Why?’” she rowed, teeth clenched, clearly in pain. “You wouldn’t have made it if I hadn’t done this! And yet...you’re still asking me why?”

I opened my mouth, but found myself speechless. No matter how much I wanted to just look her in the eyes and tell her everything that weighed on my mind, I couldn’t. What good would it do to resent her for this? It was already too late.

“How could you throw your life away like that?” she stabbed. “You knew your body couldn’t take it, surely.”

I risked another glance at her neck, watching as it gushed out rivers of blood with no sign of stopping. “I could ask the same of you.”

“Because I love you, Link!”

My eyes widened. I looked up at her, desperately clinging to the possibility that this was some kind of joke. “What...?”

“I love you.”

So I had heard her correctly. “No...” I muttered, gently shaking my head. “N-no, take it back.” My fingers clamped around her arm. “Please...”

“But it’s true,” she cried, voice breaking. “I think about you every moment I live and breathe, and I can’t bare the thought of losing you.” Her tone made it clear that this was no joke. “I would rather die.”

I’d thought I had felt the most pain I ever would’ve felt when I’d thrown myself into the spring moments ago. But the crushing anguish brought on by those words was so unfathomable that I never could’ve imagined it until now.

“Link...” She cupped my cheeks in her delicate palms. The way she looked at me, eyes glistening behind a watery film and voice barely above a whisper, was just another twist of the knife. “Why won’t you say anything?”

I choked, giving way to an unstoppable wave of tears and hysterical sobbing. “Because,” I whimpered pathetically, “I don’t deserve...‘love.’” I was crying into my hands as she lay across my bare front, shaking almost imperceptibly. “H-how could—how could someone such as I ever love you back...?”

As she began weeping freely into my shoulder, I felt another even greater surge of tears swell up and out of me. All I ever did was hurt her. It was made worse when I thought about how, even if I hadn’t been born the demon that I was, I still wouldn’t have had the chance to be with her. In the end, Lord Ganon would kill us all either way. Why had I even been created in the first place? What was the point in letting me learn what happiness was before forcefully tearing it out of my grasp?

I clutched onto her with all my might for no reason other than that she was there. She held me tighter.

[fieryhonesty]

The life of You

[AO3]

“I’m deeply sorry for not posting for a while. I hate to admit it but it took me over a week to think for a decent name for this and next chapter. But good thing is I thought of this whole fic and came to an end? Like I’m no longer aiming at an invisible finish line. All what’s left now is write it down and serve the main dish.”

Words: 2462

Today was one of your free days which you had decided to spend by exploring eastern area of Mondstadt. It was mostly just a walk for you. Except one time where you had to draw your blade and deal with a dozen of hydro slimes. 

They appeared out of nowhere. There was not even water around to attract them to. Well you wouldn't call yourself an adventurer, a swordswoman or a cryo wielder if you couldn't deal with a few slimes. 

You had spent most of the time hiking. Sometimes stopping and looking behind, enjoying the view at the city of freedom from distance. The huge windmills are probably the signature thing for it. One doesn't need to know much about the area. But if they are told 'go after the big windmills' they won't get lost that easily. 

Well, unless they decide to take it through the forest nearby the city. Getting lost in there is not hard. Fortunately the forest is not that huge and getting out shouldn't be a problem. The forest is relatively safe as only boars and other wild animals appear there. 

The forest is also having a small mine. Which means the city of freedom has to assure miner's safety, thus planting traps around or sending in several soldiers to deal with issues. Or at least that's what you have heard from a local miner with whom you shared a few drinks a while ago. 

As you climbed high enough to look over the entire eastern area something caught your attention. Shielding your face from the sunlight with your left hand, narrowing eyes. Why are there several hilichurls dancing in circles around something? Right in front of a temple?

This area should be clean from them. Did they build a camp nearby? Should you go back to the city and report it? It's just a bunch of hilichurls. It doesn't seem like an issue. You have dealt with much worse. Perhaps you could check it out. But first you'll have to descend again. As you feel sick while using a glider you refrain from using it at all. Which of course brings difficulties here and now. Fortunately you never got into trouble where you would be forced to use it.

Taking your time to carefully get down on the road. Walking in the direction you saw the monsters. Sneaking behind the trees and bushes, getting close as much as you can. 

Indeed, they are dancing around something that looks like a campfire. That would be alright, perhaps a ritual of theirs. But you had noticed the Abyss spell hovering just above the fire. Even if you wanted to ignore it at first, now you are obliged to check what's going on. 

The spell wouldn't appear out of nowhere. However the creature which casted it is nowhere to be seen. It's probably in the temple. There are four hilichurls, one of them is a shaman. Even if it didn't have a different appearance, you would be able to tell the difference from the rest as it was waving around with its staff.

Summoning your sword, giving it a quick glance. You still can't believe Diluc got you such a fancy looking sword. The blade have engraved runes close to the guard. The steel is a slightly blue shade and the hilt is so comfortable to hold. You do not need to be an expert to know this weapon is such a high quality. 

Mentally shaking your head as you remembered your scarlet hair friend's smug expression when you showed him the weapon. He rather seemed satisfied seeing you holding it. You didn't question him any more about the sword. You knew it would be pointless. Instead you flashed him a quick smile and thanked. 

You take a deep breath before dashing out of your cover. Using the momentum of surprise and bashing the closest hilichurl's mask. It didn't break but you could see the huge crack on the mask. Smirking for yourself and avoiding one of the monsters which attacked you from right. 

You thought of taking down the shaman first. As you tried to make a step you noticed how you are being pulled backwards. 

‘Shit!' 

It already casted one of its spells. You know it doesn't last long. But that doesn't mean you are not bothered by the fact how the other three hilichurls were also sucked into the vacuum. Attacking you.

Sending one of the monsters fly as you hit it hard with all your might. Blocking your side with a cryo wall. The hilichurl landed behind the shaman, making an unpleasant noise. 

The vacuum finally stopped and you can move from the spot. Slashing chest one of the attacking monsters. Ignoring its pained cry. As you knew the shaman would try to run away, you used your elemental powers to freeze it on spot. Sending it down with one swing. 

You are aware of that one hilichurl which landed behind the shaman. It's about to hit you with its club, clearly angered. You managed to manifest two of your cryo blades. Parrying its attack.

The blades disappeared as quickly as you made your next move. Feeling like it would be under your level to rely on your cryo powers to deal with a few weak enemies. Quickly finishing the remaining two. Wiping out the blood off your sword before making it disappear again. 

You glance at the campfire. The marking is gloving. Maybe it's a defensive mechanism, letting its caster know somebody neutralized the guards. Well if you can call a bunch of weak hilichurls as guards. 

You are not wasting any time and sliding into the temple. With careful steps you had passed through several corridors, avoiding any contact with hilichurls. You had expected the temple won't be empty. Those annoying Abyss Mages never leave anything unnoticed. If there are no traps then a ridiculous amount of brainwashed monsters delaying any intruder. 

If you are glad for something, it's the fact how agile and flexible you are. With some parkour tricks you managed to move across a huge part of the temple. Rather not looking down. You had learned it's a bad thing unless you want to feel dizzy. It reminds you of gliding, minus the weird feeling being carried to the side you didn't even mean to. You never said you are good with gliding!

However, in the next room you couldn't avoid fighting. Dealing with archers and one big mitachurl swinging its huge axe left and right was not fun. You were forced to use your ice spear in order to quickly deal with them. You felt like the Abyss Mage was behind the corner. The evil presence was strong.

With the sword in your hand you pressed forward, looking around for any possible trap. 

"Aha!" 

You whispered for yourself as a marking on the ground appeared. Being glad those traps can be easily discovered if one is careful enough. Also can be triggered by using magic. However you never can be sure what kind of trap you are dealing with so it's better to avoid it.

Carefully walking around, eyes glued at the markings just in case it would seem to activate. Pushing the door open and you find yourself in a bigger room. There's a petrified tree in the middle and the little furball was waving with its staff in the air. Casting something at the tree, making it glow. 

It knew about your presence. If the campfire outside has not alarmined it, then the loud battle before surely did. With one quick motion it casted a protective barrier around its body. Evil laughter escaping it's lips. Fortunately for you it's just a hydro mage. Annoying to deal with but also you know about how easily the shield can be broken if it's frozen.

"Stupid human, thinking you could outsmart me?!" 

The blue mage yelled at you, waving with its small fist in the air in a threatening manner.

"Ha. Trying to look dangerous are we?"

You taunted it. You can't help it but grin when the mage says something in its own language. No idea what it says but you are sure it's nothing nice.

Summoning your cryo blades. Chuckling a little. Certainly this is an interesting situation. Your day off was supposed to be just enjoying nature. Yet you find yourself facing an annoying problem. Whatever it was doing there, you will end its plans. 

Dashing forward, swinging your sword. Sending out a freezing surge of energy. The mage has quickly teleported away before the cold could reach it. Snapping your fingers and several blades fly its direction. One of them actually hits the shield right before it again teleports away. However it's not enough to completely freeze it. The frozen part quickly disappears as it gets canceled by the mage's own magic. Cryo or not, if they use enough power they can change the energy flow. Which makes it easier to remove the bad, frozen part, and reapply the hydro again.

"Persistent fool. You should have never entered this temple! You can't oppose the Order!" 

"Oh? Are you new or you really never heard of somebody blowing up an entire hideout in Liyue? Well let me just say one thing: having explosives RIGHT next to some highly explosive substance was not the brightest idea."

The mage cursed and hurled its hydro spell at you. You avoid it and dash closer to it. Your sword gets blocked by the shield which was expected. You can't get through it. Not unless you infuse your blade with cryo. As the mage chuckles at your 'stupidity' a sudden burst of cryo energy emerges from your weapon. Freezing the entire shield.

“Hmph.”

You can hear the mage’s panicked voice, it's trapped in its own shield. It will take a while before it can get rid of the frozen part. You swing your sword several times, slowly chopping away the shield and then it breaks. With your free hand you punch the mage, making it fly. Getting a second hit from the wall. Letting out a pained whine. You see how it raised its staff. It's about to teleport away again. 

'Those mages are such a nuisance all they do is running.'

You are about to give it a chase but several bubbles appeared around you. Trapping you on spot. They are about to burst. You quickly freeze them and get out of the trap. At first you didn't even notice but the little thing was celebrating, jumping from one leg to another. Sometimes you wonder how smart those things are. 

Before you could get closer to it, its shield regenerated. Great. Another cat and mouse play. At some point the roles of mouse and the cat were switched as you were forced to retreat and lure away one of its homing spells. 

When you finally break the shield again, having a tight grip on its throat. Finally you can just slam it and erase it from existence. If you have to compare dealing with Abyss Mages with something. It's probably as annoying as killing mosquitos. 

"So. What are you doing here?"

You snarl at it. You know it can't speak as you have quite a firm grip on it. Its hands are trying to free out but if there's something you know the best about them. It's the fact they lack any physical strength. They rely purely on magic. It's like dealing with a kid. But you don't want to choke it so you let it fall on the ground, pointing the tip of your sword at its face.

"Well? How many of you are here? What were you doing with the tree?"

"You think I'll tell you? Ha! Stu-" 

You kicked away it like its a football ball, your left eye is twitching.

It breathes heavily, crawling away from you. You summon a cryo blade, pinning the mage at spot. Scared shriek comes out of its lips, looking back at you.

"F-Fine I'll tell! I-Infusing a huge amount of elemental energy into those petrified trees have a negative effect-"

"Negative effect on what?"

"On the surrounding area of course!"

Narrowing your eyes and giving the mage a long look. For some reason you don't trust its words and it pisses you off even more. It's lying you think. Perhaps it would be better to just get rid of it. Rising your sword up to the air before swinging it down. Freezing the mage into a huge chunk of ice. Glaring at it for a brief moment before you get startled by a sudden clapping. 

Looking in the direction it's coming from. The Captain of Cavalry himself.

"I never get enough. Seeing you fight is exciting~" 

You roll eyes at his remark.

"Let me guess: you were here for a while but decided to just enjoy the show instead of helping me." 

You say in a nonchalant voice as you make your sword disappear.

"Correct."

"I guess I get what Diluc means about you guys are inefficient." 

You chuckle as he makes a hurt expression.

"Don't tell me you are gonna side with that grumpy guy. Anyway I was observing that Abyss Mage for a while. Been curious what it is up to and then you appeared. Technically you interfered with an investigation of the Knights."

You raise your hands up in a defeat. You know he is just joking but decided to play along. 

"Well what now, Captain? Will you arrest me?"

"Ah, no, no. Nothing like that, Sweetheart. I know what you did was purely in a good will. Besides you managed to get something out of it before..." He looks at the frozen mage. "You created an ugly sculpture."

"Pardon me? Ugly?"

"I jest. Although..."

You raise an eyebrow at him. 

"I wanted to ask you a while back but. Would you be willing to, you know spar with an old friend of yours? Like in the old days~"

His tone is smooth as always and his usual smirk is not missing. You ponder over the question. Can't help it but you feel like he is scheming something. Kaeya is always scheming after all. 

"Huh? If you want your ass getting kicked why don't you ask your brother."

His expression stiffens for a while. You actually managed to remove the smirk out of his face. Even if it's for a while, it still makes you feel satisfied. 

"If I lose I pay for a king sized dinner just for you. And perhaps some drinks at the tavern if you'd like."

King sized dinner? You realize how much you are hungry right now. Pressing your lips together. Considering the offer for a few more seconds before you agree.

Previous ✨ Next

[tanoraqui]

[continuation of this] [read on AO3]

There was no practical way to hide the fact that the Sunshot Campaign’s dread Yiling Patriarch was a homicidal amnesiac (a mad dog, they said, a crime and danger to keep around; leashed only by the Jiang siblings and Hanguang-jun, and how secure was that leash, anyway? Jiang Cheng held his head high and kept walking, because he didn’t have the time to deal with every little thing and he didn’t have a cogent counterargument.) 

How could it stay silent? He was still Wei Wuxian; he didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. He bounced around each night’s camp greeting people like they were new and asking what they were doing like they hadn’t done the same thing yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He flirted with Lan Wangji so outrageously that Jiang Cheng was starting to think the Second Jade really must love the idiot, to tolerate it all. He still remembered Jiang fighting forms, even though he couldn’t do them all without a golden core; he whined to be dragged out of bed and then helped Jiang Cheng train the new recruits every morning, even though not once did he remember their names. He didn’t remember Jiang Cheng’s name, or Jiang Yanli’s, or where they’d grown up or...anything. 

Sometimes he snapped in an instant from Wei Wuxian-typical smiling to something dark and cruel, and utterly heedless of political or other consequences. (So, exactly the same Wei Wuxian, a small, bitter part of Jiang Cheng muttered—no, that was what made it terrible. He so often kept smiling, too, almost the exact same smile.) Usually it was directed at the Wens, but more than one allied cultivator or mundane soldier died in cold blood because they said something rude—not so much to Wei Wuxian himself as to one of the people he “liked.” More to Jiang Yanli and Lan Wangji than Jiang Cheng himself, which was just fine by Jiang Cheng—the less, the better. Nie Mingjue tolerated the losses as part of war, which meant Wei Wuxian stayed, but the only reason LanlingJin didn’t pull out of the Sunshot Campaign entirely was that Jin Zixuan himself insisted he forgave the strangulation incident.

It was inevitable that the enemy tried to take advantage of it.

From the ground it was like this: 

Jiang Cheng was in the thick of battle, wielding Sandu with no room for a whip, but that was fine because he had his disciples (new, all still new) around him to act as his second weapon and more. The Wens weren’t stupid: they came at him several at a time, hoping numbers could overwhelm his skill. He slashed at a red-robed fighter on his left, dodged a blow from his right, and pierced Sandu like a scorpion’s stinger through a man in front of him. Another strike came from the right and as he turned and brought up Sandu to block it, he thought, oh god, it’s contagious.

Because the cultivator was wearing Jiang purple (just an armband, but few of them had more than that), and yet he didn’t recognize her.

Then she tried to take his head off and he just barely parried, on reflex more than anything; the blade bit into his shoulder and he managed a clumsy riposte that bounced off her armguard. At the same time, he realized that he didn’t recognize her because she wasn’t one of his disciples. 

The haunting dizi music that Jiang Cheng had come to accept as natural background to a fight, that couldn’t possibly suffuse all the area of a busy battlefield and yet always did, slid abruptly into a furious shriek. Before his foe could push her advantage, the man he’d just killed flung himself onto her sword, pushing forward up the blade so he could tear at her face, Around them the other Wen dead sprang up as well—as did the fallen of YunmengJiang, an awkwardness they’d all resigned themselves to. Sometimes Wei Wuxian thought to let their own dead lie, but most of the time he didn’t, and most of the time no one minded much—it was desecration, but in the name of fighting the Wen even beyond the very end. 

But this time, they didn’t just attack the Wen. This time, the corpse of Liu Qingbiao, who had run away from her merchant parents to be a rogue and then Jiang cultivator, leapt from behind onto Huang Lao, who had taken up battle with the fighter on Jiang Cheng’s unguarded left. The Wen Huang Lao fought was torn down by one of his dead fellows; behind him, an unknown corpse with a purple armband ripped into another fighter in red. Around then, Wen and Jiang and not-Jiang turned furiously, awash with the dark smoke of resentful energy, on Wen and Jiang and not-Jiang. 

A small corpse guard settled in around Jiang Cheng himself: three Wens, Huang Lao, and another man he didn’t recognize with a bloody purple sash around his waist. 

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng bellowed. “What are you—”

He lunged out between two of his unwanted corpse guards to stop a live Wen soldier who would have struck Yu Shanmei, who fought with them because Yu Ziyuan had been her favorite aunt. A moment later, the soldier got back to its feet, black-eyed, and lunged for her again.

“Wei– fuck.” Jiang Cheng flung himself onto Sandu and took to the sky. Toward the ridge overlooking the battle. “STOP IT, YOU IDIOT! YOU’RE KILLING OUR PEOPLE!”

He waved his hands as he shouted, regardless of the dangerous silhouette he was presenting. He didn’t need to worry—one arrow flicked past him and the music changed again; deep and fast as an ocean current and shadows sprang up around him, half-substantial ghosts and tendrils of pure resentful energy. A sudden chorus of cries from the treeline was no doubt suddenly doomed archers.

The shadows only thickened as he approached the ridge, where the Yiling Patriarch stood alone. Wei Wuxian didn’t acknowledge him. His attention remained fixed on the nightmare of a battlefield, his terrible dizi at his lips.

Jiang Cheng landed directly in front of him and yanked the dizi down. “Wei Wuxian, stop!”

There was a moment (there was always a moment) in which he thought Wei Wuxian wouldn’t recognize him. His eyes were as dark as the dead’s and his face showed nothing but implacable cold. By a narrow margin, Jiang Cheng’s heartbreak beat out his awareness that he was likely about to die.

Then Wei Wuxian blinked, some of the darkness receding, at least enough to show the whites of his eyes. He lowered the dizi another inch of his own accord (Jiang Cheng had barely been able to drag it down to shoulder height, even though he was still pulling. Wei Wuxian was weak without his golden core, but the shadows that wreathed him lent him plenty of strength.)

“Are you alright?” he asked, worried like Jiang Cheng had just hit his head on the dock, and nothing worse. He raised one hand to Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

Jiang Cheng batted it away. “Stop the corpses!” he shouted. “You’re killing YungmengJiang—” Wei Wuxian remained silent, watched him curiously; names, fuck, names. “The people in purple! You idiot, stop killing them!”

They had so few people to lose. Yu Shanmei was likely already down, unable to perform her best without room to snap a whip. Han Lingya was already recovering from a wound in her arm; Jiang Cheng should never have let him on the field today in the first place. He’d have to write to Liu Qingbiao’s parents, and Huang Lao’s, and Shen Chiwu and Wen Sichen (no relation) and Xi Yanji (they’d get him on the backstroke; he always left himself open—) Jiang Cheng couldn’t look down at them or he’d be lost; he just had to shake his death-eyed, half-gone brother until he stopped—

Wei Wuxian’s hand had come away with some of Jiang Cheng’s blood on it. He licked it off one finger, glancing away like a child who knew he’d done wrong. But when he looked back, his expression was familiarly mulish, save for all the dark and cold.

“They started attacking you. Someone lied to me. I know some of them are our fighters, but I can’t tell which ones, so it’s safer to just kill them all.” 

It was funny because less than a year ago, Jiang Cheng would’ve been quietly ecstatic to be the absolute center of one person’s devotion. Not, admittedly, that he had that dubious honor even now—Wei Wuxian remembered Jiang Yanli better than anyone else, since that terrible night with the sliced wrist, but she was safe at base camp (thank fuck), and even Lan Wangji was with the forces at the other end of the valley.

“I know which ones!” Jiang Cheng snapped (begged). “And so do the ones who are actually Jiang Sect! Just—” they might be equally lost if the corpses stopped completely; they were still wildly outnumbered—“focus on the people in red! A-jie– your shijie would want you to leave the people in purple to sort themselves out!”

Wei Wuxian pouted, with a edge of real disappointment (he only ever seemed truly content anymore when he was slaughtering whole battlefields). “All right.”

He raised his dizi again (Jiang Cheng let go), and after a shuddering moment, Jiang Cheng forced himself to turn around around and watch. There were half as many YunmengJiang cultivators standing as there had been when he’d left, and a quarter as many mundane troops—well, standing and alive. Almost all were upright. It was too far to pick out individuals, but he could tell from the fighting style—he’d been training them all himself for months.

Their dead turned their focus back to the Wen troops in red, as did the Wen corpses themselves, and Jiang Chang let out a breath for what felt like the first time in several minutes. He fought to steady it, to calm his fluttering qi and push it into his shoulder to heal, while beside him, the Yiling Patriarch finished the battle.

It didn’t take long. It had already been hitting the critical point of dead overwhelming the living, before this terrible interlude. Jiang Sect’s fighters knew each other, cultivator and mundane alike; they dealt easily with the few remaining imposters.

As the battle died down (ha), there was a cloth-on-rock scraping to their left. Jiang Cheng turned to see a trio of long-nailed female ghosts—some of Wei Wuxian’s favorites—dragging forward the bloody remains– no, the bloody body of a still-living man. Though from the ghost women’s giggles, he wouldn’t be alive for along. Certainly he must already wish he was dead.

He had a Jiang-purple cloth tied around his left bicep. Jiang Cheng squinted at him, as the ghost women dropped their prize at their master’s feet, and didn’t recognize his face. Ropes of shadow wrapped around the man, cutting more lines of blood into his skin.

Wei Wuxian didn’t stop playing until the last red-robed Wen on the battlefield was dead, his eyes dark and his expression cold. It didn’t change as he left a few notes lingering in the air and looked down at the shadow-bound prisoner. 

He bumped Jiang Cheng’s shoulder with his own like they were kids walking streets of Lotus Pier. “This is the one who came and told me there were reinforcements joining you from the rear, and to clear them a path. The ladies confirm it. Do you know him?”

“No,” said Jiang Cheng, just as cold.

“Well then.” Wei Wuxian nearly sang. The ropes that spread out from his shadow yanked their prisoner to his feet. The man’s mouth was gagged with twisting darkness; his eyes were bleeding but wide with fear. 

Wei Wuxian smiled brightly and tipped the man’s chin up with the end of his dizi. “I can be patient, you know. We can ask him questions before I tear him apart.”

[mommymooze]

Hunting Trip

Warning: omg bunnies don’t make it. And bandits, but who cares about them? Blood.  Fighting.

 The kitchens of Garreg Mach are always working. You like to think of yourself as the backbone of the monastery. The Knights of Seiros and the Academy are two armies, and everyone knows an army marches on its stomach. If it is not cooking, you’re preparing and preserving foods. Pickling and brining, smoking and drying, counting and measuring. Head Chef Martha has reviewed the stock. They need at least 40 more rabbits put in brine soon. She picks you to ask the professors for some volunteers to form a hunting party.

Petra is sent from the Black Eagles. Felix from the Blue Lions and Leonie and Ignatz from the Golden Deer. Everyone brings bows as requested. You have a sack with multiple snares, several hunting daggers, and a sword. Felix doesn’t go anywhere without a few swords, Petra has brought one as well. Everyone agrees to meet at sunrise in front of the gates of the monastery. Heading to the East the party enters the woods and begins to set the snares. The group moves silently through the woods, closer to the edge of the forest.

Felix stops and signals, Petra nods, the group moves slowly to the edge of the woods. Ahead is a clearing. Arrows are nocked, suddenly the fluttering of wings and call of pheasants is loud as a flock takes to the air. Arrows quickly chase the birds, causing some to fall back to the ground. Leonie carries the bag with eight fresh pheasants as everyone recovers their arrows.

They sit in a circle taking a brief rest break. You pull out small sacks full of biscuits, sausage and sweet rolls.

“We are having excellent weather for the hunting.” Petra smiles taking a bite of a roll.

“Hey, if you don’t have use for the skins, can I have them?” Asks Leonie. “those would be great for winter jackets, especially the rabbit fur.”

You smile at the frugal friend. “Yes. We’re too busy to preserve them properly. We usually compost them.”

“What’s our count?” Felix asks, taking a couple more pieces of meat.

“Eight rabbits, seven pheasants and five fat red squirrels.” You answer. “Thank you for giving up your time.” You shyly smile, knowing the students are very busy with their own schoolwork and chores.

Back on the hunt, the group moves to the north of the monastery. Petra and Felix seem to be competing as to who can bag the most rabbits. They are tied at eight each.  Walking to the edge of the woods you look out over a field of wild grasses, out of the corner of your eye you see smoke drifting into the sky. You run back to your fellow hunters.

“I saw smoke. Someone must be out here.” You announce.

“We are to be using the great caution.” Petra agrees.

Felix immediately heads in the direction of the smoke, followed by Petra. You hang back a bit with Leonie and Ashe. You only see the backs of your friends, they talk between themselves, then Felix returns.

“Bandits. Looks like they plan to attack the village across from the monastery. The three of you should circle wide out that direction.” Felix points. “Firing arrows down from the high ground. Once Petra and I see the arrows, we will go in and attack. There are only 7 or 8 of them, certainly enough for us to take down.”

You nod with your companions and quietly move through the woods in the direction you are sent. There is a bit of a ridge there, the bandits must be on the other side.  Everyone takes a deep breath.

Leonie whispers. “One…two…three!”

Suddenly arrows are raining down on the bandits as they are scrambling for their weapons. There were more like nine or ten of them. Petra gives out a war cry as she and Felix start fighting with the brigands. The archers aim carefully now as friends are in the middle of the melee.  Ashe cheers as he takes another bandit out.

You hear a movement to your right, one of the bandits is sneaking up the far side of the hill trying to end the rain of arrows showering down on his comrades. You drop your bow and pull out your sword, swinging when he is close. The bandit counters your swing, then parries, causing you to jump back out of his range. You bring your sword back, taking a hard swing at him, he catches it against his blade. Seeing an opportunity, you put your weight against your blade, sliding forward along his and into his neck causing a deep gash in his throat, you then kick him in the chest. Dropping his weapon he falls, tumbling down the hill. You grab his sword and throw it toward Leonie and Ignatz. Running down the hill towards the sword fighting you find the battle is at an end. Felix is finishing his last opponent. The other archers follow you down the hill, bringing your bow with them.

“Everyone okay?” You ask as you notice a cut in the navy-haired swordsman’s shirt, blood staining the slice. “Felix, sit.”

“You’re a cook, not a cleric.” He angrily grunts.

“I work in a small room with sharp knives, cleavers, boiling liquids and other dangers. We all heal. Luckily I’m one of the best.” You say as you pull his shirt out of the way. Grabbing your water skin you soak a clean handkerchief and clean out the wound. Not too deep, still needs healing. Laying your hands on each side of the wound you call upon faith magic needed to close the gash, leaving a faint pink line in the swordsman’s side.

“Thanks.” Felix mumbles, looking away.

The hunting party begins to head back, the unplanned battle taking a lot of energy out of everyone. They still manage to bag more rabbits as they finally make it to the snares.

“Thanks. You can go.” You wave.

The students start heading back to the monastery, the walls peek over the other side of the clearing. Felix turns around, helping you gather the snares.

You give him a curious look, then return to remove another rabbit from a trap.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself. Our fight earlier proves that.” Felix grumbles as he puts several snares back in the bag.

“Thanks.” You say softly, not looking at him. The count is 41 rabbits, so the mission is completed successfully. Everything is packed up. You reach for the bag of snares, however Felix has already hauled it over his shoulder before you can grab it. You nod in thanks.

Quietly the two of you walk back inside the gates and head to the kitchens. You reach out your hand to take the bag from the swordsman.

“Spar with me.” He asks.

This catches you off guard. Not knowing what to say, your mouth answers for you. “Okay.”

You leave the food with the kitchen staff. You request that they save all pelts for Leonie. Then you head to the training grounds where Felix is already busy with his sword forms. You stand to the side and watch him. He finishes his form then waves you over and points to a spot next to him, handing you a wooden sword. He takes his ready stance and looks at you. You assume the same stance. He takes his sword from its sheath pulling it to a ready position and steps back. You copy his steps. He continues this through all twelve positions of the form. He brings you back to the starting position. At each step, as you follow his movements, he explains that it is taking action against an enemy, he describes how they are attacking, the direction that they are coming and where their weapon is aimed. The third time through he mirrors your moves, correcting your stance, foot placement, the swing of the blade. The fourth time he is alongside you, both of you completing the form together. He then has you complete the form alone.

“Good. Practice that every day. Maybe next week I will show you another.” Felix says in a neutral tone.

You nod in response.

“You don’t talk much.” Felix says, watching the wooden sword he is twirling in his hands.

You shrug. “Not much to say.”

Felix shakes his head and takes a few steps away. Suddenly he turns around, practice sword at the ready. “Spar!”

You take your stance and he immediately is on the attack. You are able to block many of his swings, however your offensive jabs and attacks are simply awful.

“What’s your problem?” the swordsman spits angrily. “You could fight the bandit, but you’re hardly trying here.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.” You cough, embarrassed.

“I can’t judge your technique, see how good or bad you are, can’t help you improve unless you give 100%. Fight me like you mean it.” Felix brings his sword down in a hard swing to emphasize his point.

You take a couple of deep breaths to clear your mind. Finally you nod.

Felix comes at you like a lion after its prey. You start off defensive, then begin to counter. Eventually you focus on the battle, the fight. Countering, blocking attacking when there is an opportunity. He gets quite a few good hits on you. Your strikes were mostly blocked, but a few are going to leave him some bruises later, you think. You finally get a foot hooked behind his knee throwing Felix off balance as he hits the ground.

“Oh. Sorry.” You say as you reach out your hand to help him up.

Felix grabs your arm, rolling and jerking you down to the ground, lying on top of your sword arm as he puts his blade under your chin. “Yield.”

“I Yield.” You groan. You put your hand over your face. He hadn’t yielded and here you were giving him your hand. Basic amateur move.

Felix gets off the ground dusting himself off. “Not bad for your first time. Your stance is awful, your thrusts are all wrong. You need to angle your swings better but you are a hell of a lot stronger than you look. Not only that, you kept me working out for over two hours without complaining. Not bad.”

You nod just as the bells ring.

“Guess we missed lunch.” Felix mumbles.

“Come, I know a guy…” you say, heading for the kitchens. Before long you’re sitting in the dining hall eating grilled spicy salami and cheese sandwiches.

Felix finishes every bite of his sandwich. “Are you working tomorrow?”

You nod.

“When are you done? I mean, do you want to spar again?” He says, picking at something on the table.

“Two. Yes.” You smile at him.

“Great, it’s a date.” Felix says as he quickly heads off to the dorms.  

“Hey Felix. Who’s the lovely lady you had lunch with?” Sylvain says as he taps his best friend on his shoulder.

“Shut it, Sylvain.” The swordsman says, looking away from him as he continues forward.

“Well, I’ll just have to find out myself then.” Sylvain calls back, a smirk on his face.

Felix keeps walking away until he is slightly hidden by a post in front of the rooms as he looks back to the kitchen. He watches Sylvain stride straight into the door you’ve just entered in the back of the kitchen. Suddenly, the redhead is falling face first out of the door, his arms wrenched behind his back and he hits the ground hard as you slam the kitchen door shut behind him. Serves him right, Felix grins.

[flightlessangelwings]

Scars

Clint Barton x Agent!Reader

For @barnesrogersvstheworld‘s prompt challenge. This ended up being twice as long as I originally meant for it to be!! And I definitively have a flair for the dramatic. Enjoy!

Prompt: “You have a very skewed perception of cool.” “Was that a compliment? Because it could go either way.”

Summary: Clint and Reader have been after a target for months. After he slips away again, they try one last time to take him down. He is a dangerous man, but for them, this is personal.

Masterlist 

~

“Dammit!” you threw your gear on the jet in a fit, “We were so close!”

“I know babe,” Clint spoke from behind you, “We’ll get him, ok?” he rested a hand on your shoulder.

You let out a deep sigh before you relaxed at his touch. This was supposed to be a surefire mission: find the enemy base and take down the leader. But of course, things never go the way they’re supposed to and the man you and Clint had been after for months got away. You took it harder than the rest of your small team of agents, however, because for you this was much more personal. And Clint knew that.

After a moment to collect yourself, you turned to face the archer, “Thanks Clint,” you voice was softer and you gave him a weak smile.

“Now there’s my girl. Now let’s get back to the compound and drown our feelings with pizza and beer!”

“Sounds like a plan!”

~

You allowed yourself one night of drunken fun with Clint before you got right back to work the next morning to track down the elusive enemy. You got yourself up and to the desk where you left your laptop just as the sun started to peak through the blinds, leaving Clint sound asleep in his bed. Yesterday made 4 times that this enemy slipped through your fingers, and each time just made you more and more angry. That was the last time that you would let him get away.

The computer screen glared on your face as you concentrated, “Where the fuck are you, Gasto?” you muttered under your breath. You lost yourself in your thoughts, and without realizing it you ran your fingers over the scars on your cheek and shoulder. Flashes of the night you got them played in your mind. One stupid miscalculation messed up the entire mission, your target, Gasto, got away for the first time, and the last thing you remember before you passed out was Clint calling your name. Tears threatened to fall down your cheek, but you wouldn’t let them.

Completely lost in your own head, you didn’t even notice the archer come up behind you. Clint had to say your name multiple times before you finally turned around to look at him. “Hey, you ok?” he asked as he kneed down to meet your eyes.

“Yeah,” your voice was a whisper as you looked down to the floor. You know you didn’t sound convincing, but you didn’t have the energy to fake it right now. Not that it mattered with Clint anyway.

He looked at you with worry in his eyes, “Did you sleep at all?”

You nodded, “Couple hours.”

Without a word, he gently placed his hand on your cheek to caress the scar that adorned your skin there. You winced slightly, but didn’t push him away. Clint was the only person you let get close to your scar. He was, after all, the person you were closest to in the world, which meant he knew how important finding this man was to you. What he hadn’t told you though, was that when you did find Gasto, he would kill him himself for what he did to you.

A beep from your computer broke both of you out of the moment.

“What is it?” Clint asked as he stiffened his posture.

You scanned the screen before turning to him with a smirk on your face, “I found him,” you immediately stood and gathered your gear. “I gotta catch him now before he gets away again,” urgency lined your voice as adrenaline rushed through your system.

“What about alerting the team? We need to do this right,” normally Clint wasn’t this cautious, but he recognized that look on your face. And he the last thing he wanted to do was risk your life.

“There’s no time, Clint!” you all but yelled.

The avenger sighed. He wasn’t going to back down on his stance, but he knew how you were too. He also knew exactly how you felt in this moment. So, he changed his approach, “Ok,” he started in a softer voice as he went to pick up his bow, “Let’s go then.”

You looked at him, puzzled, “Lets?”

“I’m not gonna let you go alone now, am I?” he smirked as he gestured toward the door.

With a smile, you led the way down the hall and to a jet.

~

Gasto was an elusive and dangerous mob leader from Russia. He first popped up in S.H.I.E.L.D’s radar when it was found that he and his gang had ties to Hydra. But he was not the easy take down that others had been. He was smart. Somehow, he was always one step ahead and always managed to escape at the last minute. This made him a top priority to take down.

When your search pinged him, Gasto was hiding in plain sight. Which is where you and Clint currently followed to. Dressed in fancy all black clothes, the two of you walked arm and arm into the casino. You followed Clint’s lead as he took you to a corner seat at the bar to survey the room. It didn’t take you long to spot your target, but your partner told you to stay put.

“We don’t know how many friends he has here,” Clint spoke in a low voice, “We won’t lose him, we don’t have to rush.”

You bit your lip and let out a heavy sigh. He was right and you knew it, but it was eating you up to not make a move yet. A couple hours passed agonizingly slow as your target was content at his poker table. Sometimes a roar of laugher erupted from around him, making both you and Clint snap your heads around, but otherwise things were calm.

“Hey,” the archer took your hand and squeezed it, “We got this.”

You met his eyes and gave him a soft smile, “Thanks Clint.”

Again, your moment didn’t last long. Clint noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and went on high alert. You followed immediately and watched as Gasto rose from the table he has occupied for the past few hours. He pulled what looked like a cigarette packet from his jacket pocket, and you knew this was the opening you were waiting for.

“We’ll have to split up,” Clint’s voice was firm as he spoke to you without taking his gaze off the target.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “You go around back and cut off any escape. I’ll meet him head on. We should be able to trap him in the ally.”

“But…” Clint tried to argue but you cut him off.

“We’re gonna lose him!” you didn’t sound like yourself. Your voice was all but a growl and you pounced off your bar stool before the archer could say anything more. You were determined. This was your shot and you weren’t going to miss it.

“She’s gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” Clint muttered to himself as he took off in the other direction.

You tailed close behind your target, careful to stay hidden on the shadows as Gasto casually strolled out one of the back doors. No one else seemed to follow him, which meant he was finally alone. It was dark out in the back alley; the sun had set hours ago. You pulled your gun out as your heart pounded in your chest.

“You really shouldn’t have come alone, sweetheart,” the mobster spoke with his back still to you, “It’s not safe here after dark,” he turned and smiled wickedly at you.

Your eyes widened; you didn’t think he knew you were following him. You swallowed your momentary shock and covered it up with a glare, “I can handle myself.” You cocked your gun at him, “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

He didn’t seem to worry as he laughed in your face, “I’m sure you have,” he took a drag from his cigarette, “How are your wounds healing? I can see the scar on your face from here. One of my cleanest marks, I must say.”

Choosing not to answer with your words, you fired a gunshot right at his hand, which knocked the cigarette into the air. On your face, you wore a mix of a scowl and a smile. This was your turn to surprise Gasto. His hand bled and he was momentarily caught off his guard, but it didn’t last long. He shook it off before he charged at you.

You were ready, but before you could fire a second time, an arrow whizzed by you and hit Gasto on the shoulder. You didn’t need to look behind you to know who it was.

“You’re late.”

“I thought I’d let you have your moment first,” the avenger answered playfully as he came to stand next to you.

The mobster had enough. He stood and pulled the arrow from his shoulder before he launched himself at the two of you. You and Clint reacted immediately and a fight broke out between the three of you. Your gun was instantly knocked out of your hand. Gasto pulled out a knife from his coat and tried his best to stab someone, either one of you, with it. Clint used his bow to block and counter, and you pulled out an extendable staff to fight with. The alley was filled with the sounds of grunts, hits, and punches as you and Clint pushed hard to take down your enemy.

Gasto managed to push Clint down to the ground and knock his bow out of his hand. The archer hit the ground hard, making him temporarily disoriented.

“Clint!” you ran at the mobster with your staff, ready to knock him out. But he was faster than you were. He spun around and grabbed the staff with one hand and forcefully yanked it out of yours. He then used your own weapon against you and knocked you back against the ally wall.

“I honestly expected more from an avenger and a top S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” he teased as he stepped towards you. Both hands each held a weapon: your staff in one and his knife in the other. You tried to reach for your second gun, but he slashed at your hand with his knife, which caused you to drop it.

You froze. This was too familiar. In your mind, you saw the last time this man had you in a situation like this. It wasn’t exactly the same, but the feeling was. It was that feeling of helplessness. He had the advantage, and he knew it. In that moment, you went from being a strong, tough agent to a scared, weak civilian. You swallowed hard, at a loss of what to do next.

“As much as I want to prolong playtime here,” Gasto spoke with venom in his voice, “I have other things to do,” he rose the arm that help his knife.

I’m sorry, Clint, you thought to yourself as you closed your eyes to wait for the pain.

It never came, though, and you heard a grunt of pain in front of you. When you opened your eyes, you realized why. Clint had jumped in front of you, and the knife was buried in his chest.

“CLINT!” you screamed as he fell back into your arms. His breathing was shallow, but he was still alive.

Gasto only laughed, “Two for one, can’t argue with that,” he went to hit you with your staff again.

But that hit never fell.

Thinking quickly, you pulled a gun out from Clint’s hidden holster and shot your enemy right in the chest. He fell to the ground dead and your staff rolled back towards you and Clint. Only, you couldn’t care less about your weapon at the moment.

“Clint? Clint?!” tears formed in your eyes as you held him in your arms, “Come on Clint, don’t leave me!”

~

Clint woke up who knows how many hours later only to find himself in a bright, white room. Hospital, he thought to himself. He groaned as he tried to shift himself to look around the room. Before he could move too much, he felt a hand grab his.

“Don’t move too much Clint,” your voice cut through the silence of the room as your hand squeezed his.

“I’m fine babe,” he tried to sound convincing as he looked up at you with his sad puppy eyes routine.

You exhaled sharply, “You scared me,” you kept your voice firm to keep yourself from breaking.

His face dropped, “I’m sorry,” he held your hand as tight as he could, “But I’m glad you’re ok,” he knew you were a more than capable agent, but he still couldn’t keep himself from protecting you. Especially when he saw the look on your face when Gasto had you cornered.

“Thank you, Clint,” you whispered as you locked your eyes with his.

The archer flashed you a crooked smile in response. As long as you were ok, that was all that mattered to Clint. He had lost a lot in his life, and he was determined not to lose you too. No matter what.

“What happened to Gasto? Did he get away?” Clint asked, remembering why he was in the hospital in the first place.

“He’s dead,” your answer was simple and your voice was flat.

“So, your revenge act is over then,” he tried to pull a smile from your face.

“Revenge,” you echoed, “Yeah.”

Clint grinned cheekily as he poked your side, “You got him for me, didn’t you? I knew I picked right with you!”

A half smile was the only answer you had for him. With your free hand, you touched his face softly. A fresh wound laid across the bridge of his nose, and he had another one at the top of his chest that peaked out from his hospital gown. “That’s gonna leave a scar,” guilt lined your voice as you changed the subject.

He snickered, “It’s alright. Scars are cool. I’m just bummed it’s not as cool as yours.”

You scrunched your face, “You have a very skewed perception of cool.”

“Was that a compliment? Because it could go either way.”

Clint pouted and tried the sad puppy stare on you again, all the while hiding a growing smile. You were only able to hold your stern expression for a few moments before both you and Clint burst into laughter. You leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his forehead before you settled to rest next to your archer. Whatever challenges lay ahead for the pair of you, as long as you were together, you knew everything would be ok. And that was a comforting though for both you and Clint.

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

Writer’s block is killing me right now, so I decided to try and write something different just for the fun of it. So here, have part 1 of ??? of a bumbleby/RWBY Young Avenger-ish AU! 

Okay, this is bad, Blake thinks, as she jumps from the roof of a thirty-story building right before the top floor explodes.

She twists as she plummets towards the ground and aims one of her grappling hook arrows at the fancy hotel on the other side of the street. Blake’s a highly skilled archer - in fact, some (herself included) might say she’s the best archer in the world. So it’s not a total surprise when her arrow hits its target, but Blake still feels a sharp pang of relief. The hook catches the railing of a beautiful marble balcony, abruptly interrupting her fall, and sending her crashing face first into the hotel facade.

Blake groans, shoulders and wrists reeling from the shock, holding onto the rope for dear life. Her head aches fiercely where it smashed against the wall, and she feels warm blood trickling down her temple. Behind her, bits and pieces of the recently exploded top floor dramatically crumble to the ground. Blake fleetingly wishes someone had filmed the whole thing. Her jumping and firing an arrow mid-air with an explosion in the background? Badass.

“What in the world were you thinking?”

Blake looks up to see Weiss perched on the balcony, arms crossed against her chest. Her all-white outfit is pristine, not a stray hair out of her ponytail, and she almost looks bored, as if the lot of them hasn’t been fighting a horde of aliens for the past hour. Blake, bloodied and sore as fuck and dangling from a rope like bait on a fishing rod, frowns at her with mild irritation.

“You’re gonna sit here and be judgmental or you’re gonna help me up?”

Weiss raises a perfect eyebrow. “Great,” Blake grumbles. She rolls her eyes, and starts climbing.

When she makes it up safely onto the balcony floor, she collapses, back against the railing, catching her breath. Weiss pokes her thigh with one very pointy heel. “Please, refrain from throwing yourself off buildings. Remember, you don’t have superpowers, unlike the rest of us. And every time you do something needlessly heroic, Ruby gets a heart attack.”

Right on cue, there’s a high-pitched voice in Blake’s earpiece. “Blake, oh my God, are you okay? I saw that jump, that was way too close!”

Blake sighs, glaring at Weiss like it’s her fault. “I’m fine, Ruby.”

“Well, you could have a concussion. I’m sending Yang over to you.”

“I just said I’m fine!” Blake protests, but Ruby has already cut off the com’. She sits up. Her head does hurt an awful lot. Weiss hops down from the railing, and pats her shoulder, managing to be both consoling and patronizing.

“Stay in one piece. I have to go back before they try and blow up the rest of the building.”

She mumbles a spell, and fades out, teleporting to wherever their leader is. Blake massages her sore shoulder, looking around to take in her surroundings - and that’s when she sees them. Twenty or so of these green fuckers, the frog-looking aliens that apparently had nothing better to do on an early Sunday morning than to invade Manhattan, crawling in the street, sixty feet below her.

Sure, she could wait for back-up. But where’s the fun in that? Blake grins, and leaps from the balcony, shooting a couple of arrows as she free-falls. She catches herself at the last moment on a streetlamp, and slides down to the ground. A few aliens lay still in the middle of the street, arrows sticking out of their bodies, but the rest of them are now snarling and pointing laser guns at her.

“Come and get it!” Blake yells, and immediately cringes. She’ll have to work on her one-liners.

***

Yang is in the middle of doing what she does best - punching stuff - when her earpiece crackles back to life. “Hey sis,” she says, thrusting her metal fist into the face of a particularly ugly alien. There’s a satisfying crunch ; she must have broken some teeth. “What’s up?”

“How are you guys doing over there?”

Yang puts her hands on her hips, looking around her. A pile of unconscious green dudes lay at her feet, and a few more are fleeing from her at this very moment. Nora, all hulked-out, is currently throwing cars at the mass of aliens in front of them. Pyrrha and Ren are up on the roof of a nearby building, dealing with the spaceship menacingly hovering above the city - Yang hears metal creaking and cries of fear from where she stands, so she figures it’s going well. “We got it under control,” she tells her sister, with a proud grin.

“Could you go check on Blake then?”

Her smile disappears. “Why? Is she in trouble?”

“She’s okay, but she took a hit to the head and I want her to have some back-up. You know how she is - she’s not gonna slow down.”

Yang snorts, pride and exasperation and fondness mixing in her chest. “So fucking stubborn. Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

She takes off flying, swirling between high buildings until she catches sight of Blake fighting alone against a dozen or so aliens. She looks a little worse for wear, and Yang’s stomach tightens briefly when she sees the blood on her face.

She dives in, and slams both feet into of the aliens’ stomach, so hard she sends him crashing through the nearest wall. Blake turns towards her, wide-eyed, and Yang offers her a grin. “Hey, princess. Need a hand?”

Blake ducks to avoid a laser shot, and swings her bow in a wide arc, hitting an alien square in the head. The creature crumples to the ground. “I told Ruby I was fine!” Blake yells, kicking another alien in the back.

She’s bleeding and covered in grime and soot, her hair a complete disaster, and - she’s so goddamn beautiful. Yang has always loved the way Blake fights, combining martial art precision and raw grittiness, arrows to the throat and elbows to the guts. It suits her well, that mix of elegance and brutal efficiency ; it makes her look dangerous, and Yang stares, transfixed.

“Ow.”

Blake’s small grunt of pain shakes Yang out of it, and her eyes turn red. There’s a round hole in Blake’s jacket, and a burnt smell. She didn’t roll out of the way fast enough, and got caught by a laser beam. Yang, without another word, jumps into the fray.

She throws punches left and right, a hurricane of bare fists and heavy boots, while Blake takes a step back and shoots arrow after arrow. Yang gets hit by a few laser shots, and even one lucky kick from an alien who looks bewildered by his success before she knocks him out, but she doesn’t care - nothing really hurts her these days. It doesn’t take them long to finish the fight.

Afterwards, Blake goes to collect her arrows, plucking them without fuss from the corpses. It’s midday by now, and she looks so pretty in the sunlight, dark hair falling below her shoulders in waves.

Blake turns around, and catches her looking. “You’re staring,” she says, cocking her head.

Yang winks at her. Blake’s brown skin darkens across her cheeks.

“I don’t think you mind.”

Before Blake can answer, there’s a flash of red, and a screeching sound, and Ruby comes to a halt right in front of them, digging her heels so abruptly that the concrete splits under the sudden pressure. Yang sighs, a little disappointed. She loves her sister, but man, speedsters can be so annoying. Always interrupting.

“Blake! Yang! You’re okay?”

“Yep,” Yang says, grabbing Ruby’s cape and tugging her into a side hug. “Where’s Weiss?” she adds as Ruby groans and wiggles out of her hold.

“I’m here,” Weiss says softly right behind her, and Yang squeaks and jumps ten feet up in surprise, hovering in the air as Ruby bursts out laughing. She ignores her sister, and the quiet chuckle coming from Blake.

“God, Weiss, stop fucking doing that! Can’t you make noise when you teleport?”

Weiss looks up at her innocently. “Don’t be so dramatic, Yang. You make it sound like I do it on purpose.” Yang catches the minuscule twitch of Weiss’s lips, and sticks her tongue out.

Boom. Boom. Boom. The sound of heavy footsteps running towards them echoes in the quiet. In a matter of seconds, the mood changes - Blake has an arrow aimed at the corner of the street, Weiss moves her fingers in intricate circles, murmuring obscure words, Yang has her feet back on the ground, fists raised up defensively, and Ruby…

Well, Ruby just waits, hands lazily linked behind her head. Speedsters.

“Guys, I’m so hungry!” Nora yells as she rounds the corner, and there’s a brief instant of confusion before the four of them drop their fighting stance. It’s not a giant enemy coming at them - it’s a giant Nora, carrying Pyrrha and Ren on her shoulders, smiling widely.

Ruby rushes to them. “What happened to the spaceship?”

“Gone,” Pyrrha says, before she lets herself fall from Nora’s shoulder, landing perfectly. “The survivors piled up in it, and the ship took off. You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “But we should meet up with Jaune. Some of us,” and she looks pointedly at Blake, “took unnecessary risks and got a little banged up as a result.”

Blake huffs. “I’m fine,” she repeats, pouting a little. It’s cute. She’s cute. Yang realizes she’s staring again, and turns her attention back to Pyrrha.

“Jaune texted me earlier. He’s waiting for us near a pizzeria on Third and Bleeker Street,” Pyrrha says, glancing at Nora, whose stomach is grumbling so loud it makes the gravel around them shake. “Why don’t we kill two birds with one stone, and get something to eat while he patches up Blake?”

Ruby throws a fist in the air. “Yay! Celebratory pizza!”

***

Blake would never admit it, but she is kind of relieved when Jaune, after a quick but efficient checkup in a secluded corner booth of the pizzeria, concludes she has no serious injuries.

“No need for stitches, though you’ll have to ice that shoulder tonight,” he says, with a reassuring pat on her arm. “Lemme clean up the wound on your face, and you’re good to go.”

He reaches for the first-aid supplies laid out on the table, but Blake bats his hand away. “I can do it.”

Jaune gives her a look ; Blake stares back, stubborn. He raises his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine.”

He retreats, walking to the other side of the pizzeria to join the rest of their teammates currently feasting on pizza and garlic bread, and Blake closes her eyes, leans back against the bench and takes a deep breath.

She gets about thirty seconds of peace and quiet before she hears someone sliding on the seat opposite her. When she opens her eyes, Yang smiles, and pushes a huge slice of pizza towards her, almost knocking over a pile of bandages.

“I brought you some food,” she says. “It’s anchovy, your favorite.”

Blake feels blood rushing to her cheeks, annoyingly. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Jaune mentioned you might need some help with that head wound?”

As if he can feel Blake’s eyes burning a hole in his back all the way across the room, Jaune’s shoulders tense, and he lowers his head in a futile attempt to hide. Traitor. She expected better from the only other non-superpowered human of the team.

Yang rests her elbows on the table, and leans toward Blake. “Come on, princess. Let me help. That’s what partners do.”

Blake’s stomach flips dangerously at the word partners, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that, so instead of answering she crams a huge bite of pizza in her mouth. It’s cheesy, and very garlicky, and super delicious, and wow, Blake didn’t realize how hungry she was. She takes another bite.

Yang snorts. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.” While Blake chews, she opens a single-use gauze sponge and pours some alcohol on it. And then she reaches across the table, and grabs Blake’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Don’t move.”

Blake swallows, and does as she’s told.

Well, until the cloth touches the open gash on her temple, and she jerks away with an indignant yelp of pain.

Yang raises an eyebrow. “Belladonna, I’ve seen you get punched in the nose and you didn’t make a sound, but you can’t handle a little disinfectant?”

“It burns!” Blake grumbles, but when Yang holds her chin again, she stays still. Yang’s eyes are the color of fresh lavender, and her fingers feel warm on her skin. She’s so close, Blake can count every single freckle on her face, every eyelash, and it’s hard to remember that the girl in front of her is a mostly invulnerable super-strong half-human who can create portals to other dimensions with her fists if she so desires.

She just looks like an average twenty-year-old girl. There’s tomato sauce on her jaw, and Blake, without thinking, raises a hand and wipes it off with her thumb. Yang’s eyes flicker to hers. The tip of her ears turn bright red.

She tapes the final piece of gauze onto Blake’s face. “All done,” she says, her voice rougher than usual. Blake licks her lips, and thinks of saying something along the lines of wanna kiss it better?

Instead, she jumps away from Yang’s touch when Ruby appears in front of their table without warning, in an abrupt flash of red. Ugh, speedsters. Always showing up unannounced. But Ruby’s face is serious, and Blake straightens up, suddenly attentive.

“I got a call from Director Ozpin,” Ruby explains, talking so fast her words all blend into each other. “SHIELD’s secret underground base is under attack.”

“Ugh,” Yang groans. “What is it this time? Aliens? Robots? A pack of wild suburban moms?”

“I think he said… vampires?”

There’s a silence as they both process this information.

“Well,” Blake says eventually, eyeing her half-eaten slice of pizza with newfound respect. “Good thing we ate all that garlic.”

[learnerteachergentleman]

Pathfinder Second Edition: Introductory Character Guide

If you’re reading this, there’s a decent chance you’re at least familiar with Dungeons and Dragons. Pathfinder is a game system which grew out of D&D 3.5E, and emphasises breadth and depth of choice in character building, and diversity and tactical complexity in encounters. PF1 in particular is a min-maxer’s paradise, with immensely powerful feat chains and functionally invincible high level spellcasters.

PF2 is a humbler creature, with very tightly refined math. Combined with it’s three-action system and +/-10 system towards crits and crit fails, it makes for a wonderfully balanced (and thus hard to break) system.

But it can still be a daunting system to jump into. Character creation has multiple steps, each of them meaningful. Here’s a quick summation of the ancestries and classes you’ll be choosing from.

Ancestries

Dwarves

Strengths: CON and WIS boosts, good ancestral HP, and their feat selections all combine to make them very sturdy and resilient. Dwarves are typically lawful, honorable and reliable

Weaknesses: CHA penalty means they’re usually not the make sociable of folks. Their movement speed is also the slowest of all ancestries.

Elves

Strengths: DEX and INT boosts, plus access to variable skills, and the best movement speeds make elves highly versatile in and out of combat. Elves tend to be a little aloof and detached as a consequence of their vast lifespans and experiences.

Weaknesses: CON penalty and low ancestral HP makes them very fragile.

Gnomes

Strengths: CON and CHA boosts combine with their feats to make gnomes the most innately magical folk. They’re curious and friendly and constantly seeking new experiences so they don’t die from boredom (literally).

Weaknesses: STR penalty, and they’re seldom taken very seriously.

Goblins

Strengths: DEX and CHA boosts. They have an eclectic selection of feats which can provide bonuses to stealth, setting things on fire, annoying enemies, and using/eating garbage.

Weaknesses: WIS penalty, and thus a tendency towards impulsiveness. They’re still seen as vermin in most parts of the world, so expect racism.

Halflings

Strengths: DEX and WIS boosts, plus their feat options enabling stealth and luck bonuses make halflings surprisingly hardy. They’re great at flying under the radar and getting ignored.

Weaknesses: STR penalty, and like gnomes, being a small and humble race means they’re not automatically taken seriously.

Humans

Strengths: Hugely versatile, with their choice of two ability boosts and feats that enable them to go in any direction. Humans encompass the full spectrum of possibilities.

Weaknesses: Humans don’t really have many weaknesses- their adaptability ensures that- but they also don’t have special strengths they can lean into.

Classes

Alchemists

Why play an Alchemist? Do you want to play with fire? Plan ahead and outwit and outplay your foes? Throw bombs, do drugs, and poison your enemies? Alchemy might be the path for you.

Core Mechanic: Alchemy. Alchemists can make a large supply of alchemical items daily for free.

Subclass Options: Bombers specialise in the use of bombs to damage and debuff foes. Chirugeons specialise in healing potions to cure wounds and remove poisons and diseases. Mutagenists specialise in augmenting abilities through the use of mutagens.

Strengths: A good support class, since they can alter their loadouts daily to meet the needs of the party and the situation. They bring good healing and lots of little debuffing conditions to the fight.

Weaknesses: Their proficiencies and damage don’t keep up in the endgame, and they need a lot of system mastery to play well. They’re also dependent on having both a good Intelligence for their crafting and a good Dexterity for their throwing arm.

Barbarians

Why play a Barbarian? Do you want to hit stuff really hard? Do you like shrugging off damage? Do you have deep seated anger management issues? Do you want to be in the thick of every problem, and use violence as the answer? Barbarian might be the solution to your problems (or therapy).

Core Mechanic: Rage. While raging, Barbarians hit harder, but are easier to hit themselves.

Subclass Options: Animal Instinct enables one to transform to fight with fang and claw. Dragon Instinct brings elemental damage, and eventually breath weapons and wings. Fury Instinct is just pure anger. Giant Instinct grants you an oversized weapon to do more damage than any other build in the game at cost of even worse defenses. Spirit Instinct makes you better at fighting ghosts and spooky things.

Strengths: A powerful frontline striker and tank, with great damage output and plentiful HP. They can also be pretty mobile, and chase foes down with ease.

Weaknesses: Mediocre Reflex saves and lowered AC means they get hit very hard. 

Bards

Why play a Bard? Do you have an innate desire to perform and inspire your friends? Do you want to know lots of weird and useless trivia, random lyrics, and tricks to befuddle the mind and heart? Do you have a deep seated urge to fornicate with dragons (pls no)? If so, Bard might be the class for you.

Core Mechanic: Compositions. Bards get some really powerful supporting abilities which can boost the entire team with ease. Occult Spellcasting (spontaneous). Bards have a strong selection of debuffing and illusion spells.

Subclass Options: The Engima muse grants you ALL the knowledge. The Maestro muse drives you to be the ultimate performer. The Polymath muse enables you to apply your performance skills in all kinds of different situations.

Strengths: Easily the most powerful support class in the game. Their composition cantrips put many actual buffing spells (which they also have) to shame. Strong Perception and Will saves keep them alert and sane.

Weaknesses: A little fragile, and have really poor damage output.

Champions

Why play a Champion? Do you want to protect your friends and stand your ground? Do you want some healing magic with your martial might? Do you want to SMITE EVIL? Have you heard of our inheritor and savior Iomedae? If so, maybe you want to be a Champion.

Core Mechanic: Champion Causes grant them unique defensive reactions which protect allies from damage, and holy focus spells for healing and weakening foes. Divine Allies grant either boost to one’s weapon, one’s shield, or come as a mount.

Subclass Options: Paladins are Lawful Good, and are here to put evil into the ground by beating it the hell to death when it goes after their allies. Redeemers are Neutral Good, and seek more peaceful outcomes by weakening foes or preventing damage completely. Liberators are Chaotic Good, and keep their allies moving and away from threats and bondage.

Strengths: The premium tanking class, with the highest AC proficiencies, their ally protecting reactions, damage reduction on armour, and their healing Lay on Hands.

Weaknesses: Their damage output is decidedly mediocre for a martial class.

Clerics

Why play a Cleric? Do you want to channel holy magic to heal your friends and weaken your foes? Do you want to spread the good word and will of your god? Do you want to wreck evil and praise the sun? If so, Cleric might be the class for you. 

Core Mechanic: Divine Font gives Clerics a bunch of extra healing spells. Divine Spellcasting (prepared). A good supply of supporting and buffing spells, and heaps of things to really punish evil.

Subclass Options: Cloistered Clerics are fully fledged casters with extra focus spells. Warpriests trade off a little casting power for weapons and armour.

Strengths: The divine spell list punches well above curve when fighting foes opposed to your alignment. Cleric healing is very powerful and efficient in combat.

Weaknesses: Over-reliance on alignment based spells leaves them in a bad place when dealing with neutral threats. The Divine list lacks a lot of overall power.

Druids

Why play a Druid? Do you want to run wild with a 6-foot wolverine animal companion? Do you want to turn into a dragon and unleash hell? Do you want absolute command over the elements? If so, Druid might be the class for you.

Core Mechanic: Primal Spellcasting (prepared). Lots of good blasting and support spells.

Subclass Options: Animal for those who want an animal companion. Leaf for those who want a familiar and extra healing. Storm for those who want more firepower. Wild for transformation specialists.

Strengths: Versatile to build, good defenses and proficiencies for a caster, plenty of quality blasting.

Weaknesses: Limited control options. Summoning is quite weak.

Fighters

Why play a Fighter? Do you want to cleave foes in twain with big-ass weapons? Dance across the battlefield with a sword in each hand? Snipe foes from afar? Hold the line with endless shield blocks or parries? Crit everything you can see? If so, Fighter might be the class for you.

Core Mechanic: Fighters don’t really have a core mechanic like other classes. Instead, they’re a full proficiency rank ahead of every other martial, and get flexible extra class feats, making them highly consistent, powerful and adaptable.

Subclass Options: Likewise, Fighters don’t have subclasses. They’re differentiated by their feat selections (broadly speaking, one-handed fencers, two-handed brutes, dual-wielders, sword-and-board defenders, archers, and other niche options).

Strengths: Numerically superior to every other class in terms of offenses. Only Giant Barbarians beat them for damage output (but are way weaker defensively). Only Champions beat them for armour rating (but fall well behind on offense). Hugely flexible in build and tactics. Good Perception.

Weaknesses: Not many. Will saves are average, and one can’t do everything, but otherwise Fighters are overall very good.

Monks

Why play a Monk? Do you want to beat everything to death with your bare hands? Run faster, jump higher and dodge better than everyone else? Use moves right out of an old-school wire-fun martial arts film? Name every one of your attacks like it’s a shounen anime? If so, Monk might be the class for you.

Core Mechanic: Stances. Monks can learn a variety of stances which grant access to special unarmed attacks and other bonuses. Ki. Monks can learn to channel mystical magic known as Ki for extra mobility or special attacks.

Subclass Options: Like Fighters, Monks don’t have subclasses, instead being defined by their feat choices. Crane, Dragon, Mountain, Embers, Tiger, Wolf, Ironblood and Tangled Forest stances each offer different playstyles, as does the selection of various Ki feats.

Strengths: Highly mobile. Excellent AC (only the Champion can get better), good HP and the best saving throw proficiencies all combine to make them very tough to kill.

Weaknesses: Damage output isn’t the best.

Rangers

Why play a Ranger? Do you want to snipe foes from hundreds of feet away? Unleash flurries of arrows or swift attacks? Go into battle astride a feral direwolf? Be able to find (and kill) anyone or anything that pisses you off? If so, Ranger might be the class for you.

Core Mechanic: Hunt Prey. Rangers focus on a single target at a time, gaining benefits against their selected prey.

Subclass Options: Flurry Edge enables Rangers to make multiple attacks with a great reduced downside compared to everyone else. Outwit Edge makes them superior trackers and better defensively. Precision Edge grants them more power on their first hit. 

Strengths: Excellent single target damage. Decent defenses. Better archery range than anyone else. The only class which can actually make crossbows viable.

Weaknesses: Awkward against swarms of enemies, since they need to keep spending actions to shift their Hunted Prey.

Rogues

Why play a Rogue? Do you like stabbing people in the back and watching them bleed out helplessly?Do you like stealing from anyone and anything you can? Do you like your character being really edgy and good at everything? If so, Rogue might be the class for you (and prison might be the place).

Core Mechanic: Sneak Attack. Rogues get more damage against flat-footed targets while using precise weapons.

Subclass Options: Ruffians are tankier and better with brutal bludgeoning weapons. Scoundrels are experts at deceiving and surprising their foes. Thieves are light and lethal with finesse weapons.

Strengths: Twice as many skills and skill feats as any other class means that Rogues can literally be good at everything. Sneak Attack keeps them competitive with other martial classes for damage.

Weaknesses: A little fragile compared to the other martial classes.

Sorcerers

Why play a Sorcerer? Do you like being naturally gifted at stuff? Do you like the feeling of power at your fingertips and your enemies beneath your boot? Do you want to make stuff go BOOM? Did your granny engage in appropriate relations with magical beings? If so, Sorcerer might be the class for you.

Core Mechanic: Bloodline and blood magic. Sorcerers get focus spells and extra powers depending when they cast spells. Spontaneous spellcasting. Sorcerers to choose if they’re Arcane, Divine, Occult or Primal spellcasters.

Subclass Options: Aberrant and Hag bloodlines for Occult magic. Angelic, Diabolic, Demonic or Undead bloodlines for Divine magic. Elemental and Fey bloodlines for Primal magic. Draconic and Imperial bloodlines for Arcane magic.

Strengths: Solid feats chasis enables particular niches other spellcasters can’t access (like Divine counterspells or Arcane healing). Extra spell slots keeps them going longer and harder than other casters.

Weaknesses: No armour, poor AC, and weak saves means that Sorcerers earn their designation as ‘squishies’.

Wizards

Why play a Wizard? Do you like planning ahead for exact eventualities? Do you like delving deep into lore and legend to truly understand your art? Are you a massive nerd (if you’re reading this, probably)? Do you think writing an entire thesis is the best way to demonstrate one’s mastery of a subject? If so, Wizard might be the class for you.

Core Mechanic: School specialisation. Wizards choose a school of magic and get extra abilties and spell slots for that school only. Arcane spellcasting (prepared). Arcane magic gives wizards a wide breadth of tactical options, with buffs, debuffs, blasting, controlling, and heaps of niche silver bullets for opposing magic. Everything excepting healing, basically.

Subclass Options: The Improved Familiar Attunement thesis grants the wizard a useful familiar. The Metamagical Experimentation thesis grants the wizard additional metamagic options for altering their spells. The Spell Blending thesis enables wizards to trade out weaker slots for a few stronger ones. The Spell Substitution thesis enables the wizard to swap out their prepared spells, keeping them adaptable to new information.

Strengths: Solid feats chasis enables them to get the most out of their abundant supply of spells, with metamagics and other spell augmenting options. The arcane list is powerful and deep.

Weaknesses: No armour? Check. Poor AC? Check. Weak saves? Check. Yep, Wizards are squishy.

[ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut]

Mericcup Month 2018: Leadership

@witch19

Prompt 3! Hope you guys like it

Disclaimer: I don’t own brave or httyd

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

Leadership

Hiccup swung his ignited sword with vigor, sweat dripping down his brow. Toothless was beside him, fighting off several enemy Vikings. The many dragons of the Hooligan Tribe gave a war cry along with their riders as they battled Alvin the Treacherous’s forces.

The battle was violent with no end in sight. Valka led the dragons that followed under Toothless and Astrid, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Fishlegs, and Snotlout were raining fire from the skies.

Hiccup didn’t know how long they could last against Alvin’s forces. The onslaught of enemies seemed endless. Heather’s tribe was already defeated, with those remaining in her tribe fighting alongside the Hairy Hooligans.

“We need more help!” Hiccup exclaimed, blocking an axe. Eret grunted, hindering his own enemy.

“We have no more allies!” he shouted back. Hiccup didn’t want to believe that. He didn’t want to believe in placing his last hope at reaching out to lost ties from Stoick’s days was in vain. He knew that it might have been fruitless. King Fergus and Stoick the Vast were only friends in boyhood—there was a high possibility King Fergus wouldn’t even remember Stoick or feel the need to help his son who was a stranger to Fergus, but it was all he had left, and Hiccup had to take every chance he had in placing his faith in the bond Stoick and Fergus shared as old friends.

However, it seemed those bonds were broken…

An enemy Viking charged at Hiccup, and the young chief readied his blade, refusing to let himself go down like this.

An arrow pierced the man’s jugular before he could reach the Viking chief. Hiccup’s mouth parted in surprise. They didn’t have any archers on their forces…

A rallying cry bellowed in the air and the Hairy Hooligans were shocked to see Scottish ships approaching the shore with Scottish warriors already on land charging to their aid. Hiccup almost laughed in relief, his heart feeling like it was going to burst from joy.

They came. They really came…

“Are ye daft, laddie?! Pay attention or ye gonna get cut down!” a female’s voice with a foreign accent ordered in Norse.

Hiccup turned to see a woman in trousers with a kilt and Scottish men’s attire. Her hair was like wild dragon fire and her eyes burned bright like a blue inferno. It was if Freyja herself appeared to aid them in battle. She pulled to a stop on her horse beside him, shooting another man dead who was going to hurt Hiccup. Her victorious smirk made his heart skip a beat and her onslaught of arrows made him breathless.

“King Fergus is here?!” he finally managed out, fighting off an enemy. Eret brought the hilt of his sword down on an enemy’s head. The woman smirked, and Hiccup felt part of his heart slip away.

“King Fergus is retried, but his daughter, the Queen Merida, is more than happy to help his allies.” She answered. She held a hand out to Hiccup, who took it and she yanked him on her horse. Hiccup couldn’t stop the giddy grin on his face. The Scottish were really helping them. He didn’t fail his tribe after all!

More and more Scottish warriors ran onto land and the woman let out a rallying cry to her fellow warriors who cheered for her.

“Let’s show these Vikings how the Scots fight!” she shouted, urging her horse forward. Hiccup sliced down anyone who tried to charge them with weapons. Toothless followed behind, lighting fire in their wake to anyone who would attack them from behind. Meanwhile, the woman shot down enemies from the air while Hiccup took care of the ones in front of them.

They were an unstoppable force. His Freyja was as fierce and precise with her shots, charging her horse through enemy Vikings and dragons with ease. He was her guard, offering her his strength with everything he had. He didn’t dare look at her too long, for his Freyja would mesmerize him to the point of a stupor if he was careless.

Dagur the Deranged bellowed a war cry, racing towards them in violent madness, eyes alit with the possibility of murdering Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror. Toothless ran behind them, shooting a stream of fire towards the Berserker. However, the warrior dodged, charging towards them with a manic grin. His Freyja grinned, the thrill of a challenge exciting her. She slid from her horse quickly, brandishing a sword and locking blades with the Berserker.  

“Ye take Angus and find Alvin!” His Freyja commanded, parrying with Dagur on equal footing.

“I can’t leave you with him!” Hiccup protested, moving to get off her horse.

She kicked the ground out from Dagur’s feet, and turned to give him a smirk, her eyes sparking with fire that threatened to consume him. Hiccup’s breath hitched as he stared at her in awe.

It was from her look that Hiccup felt the rest of his heart being stolen away.

“I ain’t some maiden, laddie! It will take more than this wee lad to kill me!” she grinned, blocking another blow from the angry Dagur. It was her confidence and display of her skills that made Hiccup have faith in her.

He gave her a smirk, urging Angus forward with Toothless following without her, to search for Alvin and end this war.

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

The arrival of the Scottish seemed to have weakened Alvin’s forces, and the enemy Vikings and their dragons were driven back to the delight of the Hooligans and their allies. The Celts and the Vikings cheered, knowing that had put a dent in Alvin’s forces.

Nonetheless, Hiccup knew the war wasn’t over. Alvin was still out there. He had managed to engage him in battle, but the older Viking managed to escape. Hiccup sighed, running a hand through his hair. Toothless nuzzled him, and he gave the dragon a pat on the head to soothe the dragon.

“It’s okay, bud. We did good today.” Hiccup praised his dragon. Toothless gave a purr as Hiccup scratched under his chin.

“Hiccup!” Astrid cried, appearing before him off of Stormfly. Fishlegs, Snotlout, Tuffnut, and Ruffnut followed, running to him. The remaining Hooligan tribesman also gathered around their chief. Valka surveyed her son for damage and sighed in relief when she found no wounds.

“What was that? Why are the Scottish here?” Fishlegs asked the question on everyone’s mind. Hiccup grinned.

“To strengthen bonds.” He answered, wondering if his dad was watching her old friend’s daughter came to the aid of his son like Fergus would have come for Stoick before them. Of course, his tribesmen were confused and didn’t get it.

“Is that some kind of riddle? You know I don’t do riddles man.” Tuff groaned. Ruff whacked his head.

“It’s obviously a code! Maybe the Celts are here for some rewards.” Ruff argued, sure that the Celts would want something for themselves.

“They better not want our dragons.” Snotlout growled. He wouldn’t be giving up Hookfang for anything. There was a murmuring among the tribe, suspicious of their Scottish aid. Hiccup rushed to fix the situation.

“No, no! They’re just here to help! Or at least I hope so…” he muttered the last part. He didn’t really get a written reply—too frantic with sending a messenger to DunBroch with the pleas for help while they were being attacked.

“Why did you write to the Scottish?” Eret asked, crossing his arms, raising a brow. He didn’t think the Vikings and Highlanders were on good terms, but perhaps he was wrong.

“Hiccup, these wouldn’t happen to be Fergus’s forces, would they?” Valka realized, remembering the crest of arms on the sails of the ships. All Hiccup did was respond with a grin. Valka couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Praise the Gods! Even in death, your father aids us.” She laughed in relief. The rest of the tribe appeared confused. Valka turned to their tribe. “These Scots are allies. Their King and Stoick were boyhood friends.” Valka explained. The tribe registered that and cheered for their late chief. Hiccup looked sheepish.

“Well it’s actually his daughter who sent us aid. Apparently, King Fergus is retired…”

“We should speak to the Queen then.” Astrid said. “King Fergus I understand helping, but it doesn’t make sense for his daughter to help a tribe she doesn’t know.”

Hiccup remembered his Freyja, her hair like dragon fire and eyes like the raging sea. He felt giddy at the prospect of seeing her again and wondered if she was the Queen’s general. He tried to not show his eagerness at the prospect of seeing the object of his adoration, and coughed, clearing his throat.

“I’ve fought with the Queen’s General. She’ll welcome us.” Hiccup explained. It was decided Hiccup, Astrid, and Valka would go to meet the Scots. It didn’t take long for them to be found. The Celts were making camp, nursing their soldiers who were injured in the battle. Some gave greetings in Gaelic, and Hiccup translated for Astrid.

Soon they arrived at the war tent where the General would be. Guards were stationed at the tent, but moved aside when they saw them approach, recognizing his chief’s cloak. Hiccup nodded in thanks, entering with Valka and Astrid.

“Don’t be daft, Macintosh! We need to nurse our soldiers before leading a full assault.” His Freyja was talking in Gaelic to a handsome Celt with flowing black hair. The man snorted.

“We’ve managed to drive back Alvin’s forces. We should crush them while they’re weak.” Macintosh argued. His Freyja wasn’t amused.

“Aye, and leave without the Hooligan tribe? They need our medical attention as well. We need all of our forces if we’re going to attack. I’ve fought his right-hand man, Dagur, and he managed to evade being sliced by my blade. Alvin the Treacherous is a higher caliber.” The redhaired general countered.

“I agree. My clan has had many casualties. I would like them to be nursed before heading into another battle.” A large man spoke, his Scottish accent heavy.

“…What were we discussing again?” a shorter man with a spacy expression asked.

“Argh pay attention Dingwall! It’s a miracle yer still alive…” Macintosh muttered, flipping some of his hair out of his face revealing blue Celtic paint. The larger Scot shook his head at the shorter man, Dingwall. His Freyja gave them all an amused expression.

“Well MacGuffin agrees with me and Dingwall is his usual self, so it looks like we’re staying here for the moment.” She said. Macintosh grumbled, but you could see a fond glint in his eyes when he looked at his Freyja.

Hiccup coughed, and the four turned to him in surprise as they just realized he was there. The female general grinned approaching them with her fellow generals behind her, surveying the Vikings suspiciously around their leader.

“Ah, Hiccup the Dragon Conqueror! It’s such a pleasure to speak to ye outside of battle.” She said in Norse, grasping his offered arm as he gripped hers in solidarity. He wished he wasn’t wearing long sleeves, so he could feel her fingers against his skin. Hiccup tried to contain the blush that erupted at the thought of them touching skin to skin, halting that train of thought before it could turn indecent.

“Pssh I bet I could conquer dragons too…” Macintosh muttered in Gaelic, and MacGuffin whacked him. “Ow!”

“Don’t mind them. My generals are idiots but they’re also very competent when they are needed.” She spoke, humor dancing in her eyes as she let go of Hiccup’s arm. Hiccup nodded with a grin, being reminded of Snotlout, Ruff, and Tuff.

“Don’t worry, General. I have my own knuckleheads to deal with.” Hiccup assured her with a grin. His Freyja laughed, and Hiccup’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yer speaking to her majesty the Queen Merida, laddie!” Macintosh scolded him. Hiccup’s eyes widened in shock. His Freyja was Queen Merida?!

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, but aren’t queens in the south not supposed to fight in battle?” Valka asked, curious. She had heard the Highlanders had different customs for their women from Stoick back when they were first married, and he was retelling his summers with Fergus in his boyhood. The Queen’s generals looked offended, like Valka had said their queen was strange, but Merida barked out a laugh, waving it off.

“Oh don’t give them looks, lads! Ye know I am a strange one!” Merida’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Aye, usually queens don’t do battle, but I am my father’s daughter and I believe if I’m gonna rule I should fight for my home and allies despite my mother’s wishes I didn’t.” Merida explained. She gestured to her outfit. “Hence why I dress like a man—it’s a little hard to do battle in a fancy dress, I’m afraid. Trust me.”

“I’m sorry, but why exactly are you here, Your Majesty?” Astrid asked, observing her.

“Not that we aren’t grateful for your help!” Hiccup rushed to add, not wanting to offend their possible allies, giving Astrid a look. She glared at him, jutting out her chin in defiance.

“My father and yer father would good friends when they were young, Hiccup Haddock. My Da would tell me and my brothers stories of their youth all the time when we were young. As I grew older, I heard tales of Stoick the Vast and his conquests. Even when they lost touch, my Da always tried to keep up news on how he was. I couldn’t in good conscious leave his good friend’s son to die when ye sent me a messenger.” Merida explained.

Valka felt herself feel warm. She had no idea that Fergus had missed Stoick that much that he had kept up with news about him and would tell his children his victories. She felt intense gratitude for Fergus for inspiring his daughter to aid them in times of need.

“Now if ye don’t mind, I need to talk to yer chief.” Queen Merida told them. She turned to her generals. “That will be all, laddies! We’ll resume in an hour. Please check on how yer clans are doing.”

“But Yer Majesty—” MacGuffin started to protest, wary of the Vikings, but Merida waved him off.

“He is Stoick the Vast’s son. My Da always told me of Stoick’s honor and no doubt his son will be the same.” Merida told them. Her generals bowed and departed. Hiccup nodded to Valka and Astrid that he was fine, and they left reluctantly.

Hiccup was alone with Merida now. She zeroed her intense gaze on him and Hiccup’s heart beat quickened.

“Sorry about my men. They’re overprotective at times. We’ve known each other since we were fifteen.” Merida explained.

“It’s all right. I’m sorry about Astrid and my mother. Times are…” Hiccup searched for the right words to say. Merida nodded.

“I understand. It’s very hard for yer tribe right now.” Merida walked over to sip some water. She offered Hiccup some. “I’m sorry it’s not wine. I don’t like to indulge in the field.” Merida added. Hiccup shook his head.

“I don’t really feel in the mood for wine anyway.” Hiccup sipped some water. The queen then looked bashful.

“To tell ye the truth, my Da’s stories are not the only reason I came to help ye.” She admitted.

“Oh?” Hiccup was curious. Her shyness was very endearing—different from her fierce passion, but all it did was present her as more complex than one-dimensional. He wanted to know more about this queen. He wanted to know what made her tick and what made her vulnerable. He wanted to know what she liked and what she was passionate about. His curiosity burned to know more of this incarnation of the goddess of war.

“As I grew up, I always heard tales of Stoick the Vast. It always made me eager for more. However, I was fifteen after escaping an arranged marriage when I heard the tale of his son, Hiccup, defeating the Red Death.”

“Wait—wha?” Hiccup spluttered, coughing on his water a bit. There were stories about him even back then? Merida nodded.

“Aye. It wasn’t long before I began hearing more and more tales of ye. Of yer courage and compassion—it inspired me.” Merida blushed prettily, her eyes sparkling in excitement at recalling all of the adventures she’s heard of. “I was in awe. Ye were my age but ye’ve already made yerself into a great leader. I began taking a more progressive route in becoming queen and fought for my reign from freedom of marriage.” The queen confessed. “My Ma didn’t think it best. It was always tradition for a King and Queen to rule together. I do intend to marry eventually, but they will be my partner. They will not rule for me—they will rule with me. I began studying military tactics and politics to rule on my own because if ye can rise up from being a village screw up to one of the best leaders of this century, I could certainly strive to rule independently and become a great leader for my nation on my own too.” Merida finished.

Hiccup’s eyes were wide. He had no idea he had caused such a change within someone. It made him feel humbled. He wondered if Merida felt the same admiration for him as he felt for her and her ability to lead her own men into battle. She was fearless and passionate. He wanted to drown in her passion. He swallowed.

“Are you disappointed?” he couldn’t help but ask, afraid that he had somehow failed her expectations. Merida gave him a smile, eyes carrying a glint of adoration Hiccup knew that were in his own eyes for her.

Merida stepped closer, taking his hand. He noticed how perfect their hands were together. Hiccup resisted the urge to intertwine their fingers.

“Ye definitely made an impression on me.” She smirked slyly. Hiccup blushed.

“Good or bad?” he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Merida’s eyes shined tenderly.

“Let’s just say after this war is over, I would consider ruling beside a King now if he was like ye.” She laughed. Hiccup’s heart swelled and his face split into a goofy grin while he intertwined their fingers together.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”

[primatechnosynthpop]

The broken promise of a broken swordsman

It was a sunny day in the kingdom of Tokyo—maybe a little too sunny for such an important day, when a noble hero and his trusted companion were about to embark on a potentially dangerous mission. Rain would have been more dramatic, or at least some dark clouds. When was there ever an epic tale that began on such a nice, sunny day? It was always a dark and stormy night (as clichéd as it may have been), not a bright and cheerful morning.

At least there was a bit of thematically appropriate shade in the forest where Hiro and Ando were doing a bit of training before embarking on what would be their first proper quest. The last-minute training session had been Ando's idea—a few of his spells still needed a fair bit of work. Hiro, who was currently sitting on a tree stump watching his friend try and fail repeatedly to cast a Thunderbolt spell, swung his stubby gnomish legs back and forth impatiently. It was early in the day, so it wasn't like they had to worry about getting anywhere before sundown, but Hiro still wanted them to get out there as soon as possible. It was just a simple escort mission, anyway—they could handle it!

Besides, Hiro realized, he'd seen Ando cast Thunderbolt successfully plenty of times before. Why was he performing so poorly now all of a sudden?

Hopping off the tree stump, Hiro made his way over to where his friend was charging up another spell. Red sparks of electricity were starting to gather at the end of his wand, but they fizzled out as quickly as they formed. Ando's tail lashed in frustration, but he furrowed his brow and kept on trying.

"Can we go soon?" Hiro asked for probably about the twelfth time that morning. "Our client is going to be departing soon, and if we're not ready by then, they'll find somebody else to escort them. And I really want to go on this mission," he added with a little pout.

"Soon, soon... just let me try one more time to get this spell right," Ando said, also definitely not for the first time that day. "If we get attacked on the way and I'm not able to defend the client—"

"...Then I'll protect the both of you," Hiro reminded him, shifting his weight to draw attention to the katana strapped to his back. Since the sword was fashioned to be held by a human or similar-sized creature—in fact, it was rumoured to have once been used by the legendary elven warrior Takezo Kensei—the weapon in question was a little unwieldly in Hiro's hands, but he was a skilled enough fighter to put it to good use. "That's what I became a protection fighter for, remember? To make sure you stay safe if your spells fail!"

Ando sighed, but a smile crept onto his face nonetheless. "Yeah, and I became a wizard so that I could stop you from rushing into combat alone," he recalled. He leaned down to ruffle Hiro's hair, which prompted Hiro's ears to perk up like those of a dog being petted. Hiro's cheeks coloured at the involuntary reaction. He figured elves must have had it even worse, since their ears were about twice as long and pointed as those of a gnome.

"Seriously, though," Hiro said, lowering Ando's hand from his head and giving it a reaffirming squeeze. "You know I'll always protect you, right?"

It was his job as a protection fighter and the so-called "tank" of the "team" which consisted of only the two of them, but more so than that, it was the right thing to do. The two of them had been together since childhood, and Ando had always been such an integral part of Hiro's life that Hiro couldn't even imagine life without him. Because of that, he had to keep Ando safe whenever they got into a dangerous situation—losing him was something too awful to even think about.

-FIVE YEARS LATER-

A flurry of arrows filled the sky overhead as the ragtag gang of battle-hardened adventurers ran for cover in the thick of the woods. Those with dull eyes may not have been able to make them out against the blackness of the night, as they all donned black and dark gray garments to blend in. While their attackers, who were perched up in the trees and each armed with bows and a plentiful supply of arrows, focused on the group running below them, they failed to notice the diminutive figure approaching from behind, leaping from tree to tree with their blade at the ready. The archers wore silver-blue cloaks emblazoned with the crest of the Petrelli clan—most of them probably thought that the ruler of the land truly was the half-elven warlock Nathan Petrelli.

As he crept up behind one of these clueless men clad in the colours of a long-gone kingdom, the sword-bearing figure almost wanted to laugh at the sheer idiocy of it all. Nathan had been slain long ago; if these fools knew the true identity of the man they swore allegiance to, they'd have despised him as much as any of these "terrorists" they were now firing at.

Well, whatever these goons knew or didn't know about their precious king, the only thing that mattered was that they were on the enemy side. Without hesitation, the swordsman brought his blade down on the nearest archer, killing him before he could see what hit him. As the first slumped over lifelessly, one of his companions jerked her head up in alarm and glanced around frantically, scanning the trees for someone she'd never find. He was already gone, reappearing behind a cluster of three other archers who he made equally quick work of.

Now he'd gotten the attention of the whole lot. Good, he thought with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Exactly according to plan. Picking off a few archers provided a distraction which would buy his allies time to get away, and he didn't have to worry about getting caught.

After all, Hiro was a hard gnome to catch.

Back on the ground, the magical barrier which had been protecting the group fizzled out. No sooner had the protection dropped than a well-aimed arrow found its mark in the back of a young halfling girl. She stumbled but kept running until a second arrow hit her in the back of the head. The halfling tumbled to the ground, where she clearly wouldn't be getting up from again. In the lead of the group, a half-elf with hair that hung over his eyes glanced over his shoulder with a grimace and stopped running for a second. He looked like he wanted to go back for the dead halfling, but an orc woman with long blonde hair grabbed his wrist and tugged him along.

"Peter, c'mon," she growled when the half-elf resisted. "You know she'll be fine."

"...Right." Swallowing and steadying his gaze ahead of him, Peter held out a tattered, bloodstained bible and shouted, "I cast Shield of Faith!"

A moment later, the shield which had been protecting the group returned, just as a spectral figure rose from the fallen halfling's body. The figure, clad in a robe resembling a high school cheerleader's outfit, shook its head as though to let down its spectral hair.

"All right," Claire said, her skull-like features stretching into a grin. "Now that that's over with, I may as well get a couple hits in."

Rising through a sea of arrows which passed through her lich form like she was mist, Claire grabbed a dagger off her dead physical body and prepared to throw it at the nearest attacker. Her lich form crackled with bolts of bright red electricity. At the sight of the red lightning—though he'd seen it many times before—Hiro suppressed a shudder. It was so reminiscent of the spells he used to cast... No. Hiro shook his head, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword. This was no time to get sentimental about the past. He had to focus on getting himself and his compatriots out of the literal and proverbial woods alive—or, in Claire's case, undead.

However, when she threw her dagger, her target—a dragonborn man who it was hard to believe had once been a paladin—caught the dagger in the air. His eyes narrowed into slits and he tilted his head in concentration, tightening his grip around the long wooden staff in his right hand. A moment later, he spun around to where Hiro was preparing to strike again. Hiro brought his sword down, but the dragonborn blocked it with his staff and pushed him back a couple centimetres.

The dragonborn (what was the name again—Parkman?) bared his fangs. "You know I don't want to do this, Hiro," he said. "They're forcing me to work for them. They'll kill my mate and offspring if I don't."

"None of us have a choice," Hiro told him. "You have no more excuse than the rest of us."

Drawing his blade back, he slashed Matt across the leg and lifted his blade to the dragonborn's throat. However, before he could make the kill, a bright white beam shot up from the ground, knocking Hiro's blade out of his hand. Hiro glanced down to find that the caster was none other than the drow alchemist Mohinder, who was holding out his wand with a trembling hand.

"I—I'm sorry," Mohinder said when Hiro fixed him with an incredulous glare. "Just... please let that one live, will you? I..."

Hissing, Matt retreated into the canopy; Mohinder sighed and turned to rejoin the pack of renegades. They were nearly out of the archers' range now, and if the shield of faith held up for just a minute longer, they'd be home safe.

Unfortunately, Peter's spell was wavering again. The cleric's brow furrowed in concentration and effort, hand hovering over the pages of his bible, as he ran. By his side, the orc—Niki—was caught in the shoulder by a stray arrow that found its way through a gap in the shield. Roaring, Niki ripped the arrow out of her shoulder and snapped it in two, picking up the pace of her already impressive charge. When Peter continued to slow down, she circled back, grabbed him in a sort of clumsy bridal carry, and kept running forward, taking up the lead of the group.

"Th—thanks," Peter huffed. Placing his hand on Niki's shoulder where the arrow had hit her, he asked, "D...do you want me to heal that?"

"It can wait," Niki said, shrugging off Peter's hand. "Look, I can almost see the edge of the woods from here."

The edge of the woods in question was a very sudden transition from twisting, ancient oaks to a few younger trees—all of them, of course, from five years ago or less—mixed with the charred remains of other old trees. From then it was still all ash; ash as far as the eye could see save for the memorial up on the hill where the royalty and nobility of New York had once resided. Well, that wasn't entirely true—they were starting to rebuild New York City now, starting what had once been the kingdom’s most prosperous city over from scratch. Hiro didn't see the point to any of it. No matter how many buildings and streets were reconstructed, it wouldn't bring back any of the lives that had been lost.

It certainly wouldn't bring back that particular person, who Hiro tried so hard not to think about for fear that he'd break down crying, but who kept slipping back into his thoughts anyway. Every time Hiro met a tiefling, he froze up for just a second, his breath catching in his throat—to say nothing of if the tiefling in question happened to be a wizard. It was stupid to keep fooling himself like that, he knew. No matter how many tiefling wizards he crossed paths with, none of them were Ando. It would never, could never be Ando.

*

Once he had taken care of a few more archers for good measure—the fewer left to report back to the king (who wasn't really Nathan) the better—Hiro joined up with his fellow renegades in their stronghold: a cave at the edges of the ruins of New York City where a bard named Isaac had once lived. There, his companions were recuperating from their narrow escape and discussing what to do next.

"We've got to go back into the forest and collect my body," Claire was saying, glancing down at her lich form disdainfully. "If Nathan's men get ahold of it, who knows what they'll do."

"Not Nathan's men," Peter reminded her. "We don't know who the king really is yet, but it's not my brother."

"Whoever the ruler is, if we can all agree it's not Nathan, we should try to kill him," Niki said. "I can sneak into the palace as a servant and win his affections, and then assassinate him when he lets his guard down."

Peter, who was currently dressing the arrow wound Niki had sustained on her shoulder, bit his lip and gave his head a slight shake. "I couldn't put you at risk like that," he said. "Besides, the nobility knows who we are—you know that."

"We do need to kill him," Hiro affirmed. "But it won't be easy."

(He didn't want to admit it here, but he had tried a couple times himself to singlehandedly kill the man masquerading as Nathan Petrelli. He'd been met with an onslaught of spells that he'd barely been able to dodge, even with his Teleport spell.)

"You're right; I do know." Sighing, Niki drew her knees up to her chest and leaned her head back against the cave wall. The wall glistened with moisture, reflecting Niki's image back at her; the reflection did not move any differently from herself. "I just want him dead so badly—I want everyone who was responsible for this dead."

"You know who I want dead?" Claire put in. "Not me, that's freaking who! I am so sick of getting killed all the time!"

In the corner of the cave, a human man by the name of Noah Bennet let out a long sigh. He took off his pair of horn-rimmed glasses, which were enchanted to give the wearer Truesight, to rub his temples, before sliding them back on.

"None of us enjoy it," he said. "I can't tell you how much I hate seeing you as a lich. I’m just glad you are one so I don’t have to permanently lose you.”

Just then, Mohinder stepped out from a tunnel which led down to his father's underground laboratory. He'd dug the tunnel out himself to give himself easy access to the lab when he needed to use his alchemy for something. "Good news, Claire," he said, wiping his hands off on his lab coat. "Your new body will be ready in just under a fortnight."

"How many extra bodies for me have you got on the go?" Peter asked—he was a lich as well, and he and his niece both died on such a regular basis that Mohinder was constantly being forced to clone new bodies for them.

"None at the moment," Mohinder admitted. "But I still have a sample of your DNA that I can use left over from the last time."

As he watched from his cross-legged perch on a jutting rock shelf, Hiro harrumphed slightly at Mohinder's nonchalance. They all owed a lot to the alchemist, so it was best not to get on his bad side—if a bad side was even something he had—but Hiro couldn't quell his annoyance at Mohinder for letting Matt get away. He knew they'd been close once, so it was perfectly understandable that it would be difficult, but it hadn't even been the first time. Really, Mohinder was the only one in their group who hadn't suffered any great losses since the destruction of New York, so many moons ago.

Some of us, Hiro thought with a pang of envy, have lost everything. He thought again of his old travelling companion; of bright red sparks crackling at the ends of slender, clawed fingertips. He knew it wasn't healthy to be so lost in the past, but... Massaging his temples, Hiro sighed and slumped down a bit. He just couldn't let go, not now, not ever. He had promised Ando, on the day of their first mission, to protect him. He had failed. Every unlawful action he took now, every life he took without thought, seemed to pale in comparison to that grave wrongdoing.

"Excuse me," he spoke up, hopping off his ledge. "I'd like to be alone for a bit, if you don't mind."

"Oh, go ahead," Peter said with an understanding nod. He was really the only member of the group who really tried to be "close" with any of the others; it was something that everyone else could appreciate, even if it sometimes seemed like an act he put on to seem more like his former self. "I think we can all use a bit of rest after that raid."

At least the raid had been successful this time, he didn't say, but it was a thought that hung heavy in the room enough for anyone to know he was thinking it. There had been so many raids before which had ended only in misery with no gain to show for it. This time, they had successfully located Sylar's phylactery—an old snowglobe—although the dark mage himself remained in hiding. Destroying it would be another question, but for now nobody wanted anything other than to relax for as long as they could before somebody inevitably came after them.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Hiro squeezed his eyes shut and cast Blink. When he reopened his eyes, the world was monochrome, and he knew he'd just gone invisible to everyone else on his particular plane of existence. This was what he meant when he said he wanted to be alone, even though his Teleport spell could take him anywhere. Being truly isolated was a dangerous move for an infamous outlaw—not that he prided himself in that status; no, his past self would have been positively ashamed and he knew it. However, the fact remained that every individual with extraordinary abilities had a price on their collective heads, and there were more wanted posters tacked up in taverns and on trees of Hiro than of anyone else. The safest way to be alone with his thoughts for a while was to simply go to another plane, and while that may have been pitiable to some, it couldn't have been further from the saddest thing about his existence.

Hiro paced back and forth along the innermost wall of the cave, passing through the black-and-white outlines of his compatriots as though they were all spectral. The floor of the cave was littered with yellowed pages of music notes. Some of them had lyrics—lyrics which spoke of now all-too-familiar events. His lip curled at the sight of a yellowed scrap of parchment with a couple passages which carried with them memories of a lighter time:

"On a quest/ With his best friend/ And they won't rest/ And it won't end/ They know they can't turn away from this fight!

It's how they roll/ But soon things go/ Out of control/ But still they know/ They're always gonna be alright!"

It was an insipid little ditty that had kept his spirits up on the road when the going had gotten tough, and he really had believed that last line. There was magic in a bard's song, and Hiro had known that, even back in the days when he'd been nothing more than a protection fighter with no clue how to cast a spell. Hell, the only reason he was a spellcaster now was because he'd inherited an old wand which was still in good condition—that he'd kept in good condition, because he had to keep it in good condition, because it was all he had left of its former user.

While he paced the far wall of the cave, obscured by shadows even though he'd already be invisible to those outside his plane, he could have sworn he heard footsteps coming from outside. Maybe he'd just been imagining it, but—no, he could hear voices now, which meant that either he was finally losing his grip on reality or he wasn't alone. Ears pricking in alarm, Hiro placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and kept it at the ready. He didn't think that any of the king's men could use Blink, but it wasn't impossible, and if someone had found him... Well, if that was the case, then that person would shortly reappear on the prime material plane as a dead body.

However, when he drew his blade and stepped out of the shadows to face the potential threat, he did not find people clad in silver-blue robes, with their own weapons drawn and at the ready. Instead, what he saw were two men clad in well-kempt adventuring gear—too well-kempt for somebody living in these parts. They each looked to be—at least in human terms—in their twenties. They were slightly obscured by the murk of the cave, and they looked so incredibly out-of-place that it took Hiro a moment to recognize them even when he stepped into the light. When he did, all three of them froze in place, exchanging glances of shock and astonishment.

One of them, who had gone far more overboard on the adventuring gear, was a gnome carrying a sword strapped to his back. Save for a few nicks and a bit of lost sheen, it was the exact same sword that Hiro held now. His hair hung over his pointed ears, which were flattened against his head as he clung at the leg of his companion—a tiefling, whose wizard hat had two holes on either side to accommodate for his long red horns.

They were faces which Hiro had not been expecting to see again in his lifetime, and for seeing them now, he wasn't sure whether to bless the gods or curse whatever demon was responsible for this.

"You," he hissed, tightening his grip on his katana as he stared down his former self.

The target of his icy stare returned the gaze with wide, disbelieving eyes. "...Me?"

[four-loose-screws]

Fire Emblem 5 Umemura Novelization Translation - Chapter 8 Part 3

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

Pre-3DS FE Translations - FE Awakening Translations - FE Fates Translations - Original FE Support Conversations - Ko-fi

Leif felt strange as he ran, sword in hand, through the castle of his memories that he had once spent every day in. Everything felt so nostalgic, yet he had no time to dwell on his feelings.

“That’s as far as you’ll go! We’re going to kill you here!” A man yelled. He seemed to be the leader of the troop of infantry units standing guard before Leif’s army.

The soldiers roared and rushed towards them.

Leif grabbed his sword tightly and ran at them.

*

The cavalier unit was still outside. A group of enemies entered their vision.

It wasn’t a very large group, but had enough members to match them in numbers.

“Enemy reinforcements have arrived! As we discussed earlier, half of you will come with me and fight on the front line. The rest of you will stay on stand-by here.” Glade unsheathed his sword and pulled his horse’s reigns.

Olwen looked at the enemies coming towards them. She furrowed her brow at the man riding a horse in the middle of the group.

She couldn’t make out his facial features, but she knew from the silver hair that it was Kempf. “Please, wait!” She yelled without thinking.

“What is it, Olwen?” Glade stopped his horse and turned around.

“Please add me to the attack unit!”

“Why?” Glade asked with a frown.

“I have a bone to pick with the guy in the middle. I want to settle things with him once and for all. Please.”

Glade looked Olwen in the eye, then turned his head. “You mean the silver-haired guy?” He asked while looking at the oncoming enemies once more.

“Y-Yes! That’s the one.”

“I understand. You’ll be part of the attack unit, and I’ll leave him to you.”

Olwen’s face brightened at Glade’s words. “Yes, sir! Thank you!”

Glade nodded and smiled, then suddenly changed to a serious expression. “Selfina, you’re in charge here. Now, let’s go!” He raised his sword and galloped off.

Selfina’s group stayed behind, and Olwen and the others in the attack unit followed after Glade.

When Kempf’s unit saw Glade’s coming, they all assumed battle stances and stopped moving. Their members consisted of soldiers, knights, archers, and mages. They spread out, putting Kempf in the back.

Glade stopped his horse and motioned with his sword for everyone else to stop as well.

This kept some distance between the two groups. They stared each other down.

The archers and mages assaulted Glade’s unit with arrows and thunderbolts.

“So this is how they fight!?” Glade clicked his tongue.

Olwen kicked her horse and dashed forward.

“Olwen!”

“I’ll throw them off!” She said without even turning around to look at Glade.

She chanted while charging at Kempf’s unit.

The archers drew their bows.

Her magic shot out before the archers even had a chance to release their arrows. The thunderbolt landed in the middle of the unit and electrocuted them all.

She ordered her horse to continue forward and jump over the disheveled unit.

She didn’t even look once at the soldiers, instead aiming right for Kempf.

The moment their eyes met, Kempf’s eyebrows raised. “I-It’s you!” He screeched and unsheathed his sword. “It’s all your fault! Everyone looks down on me now because of you!”

“No, it’s because you only care about yourself!! You ditched your men and escaped without them!” She blocked his sword and took a step back.

“Damn you! You’re a traitor! You have no right to talk about what I’ve done!” He ground his teeth and glared at her.

She unleashed a spell.

A thunderbolt landed just before his horse’s nose, causing it to flail about on its hind legs and whinny.

Kempf fell off and landed on his back.

Olwen waited for him to stand up, with her sword still in her hand.

He looked up and glared at her.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that!” He screamed so hard that his face was twitching. He stood up, rushed at her, and swung his sword.

She parried his attack with her sword.

He didn’t stop, slashing at her over and over again. While his swings were wild and sloppy, there was a lot of power in them.

She couldn’t keep up. One of the attacks grazed her foot. The next one sliced her right thigh. Blood trickled from the wound. “Ah ha ha! Take that! It’s what you deserve for making a fool out of me! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!!”

She glanced down at her thigh. “Are you really that happy about a cut like this!?”

“You say that now, but you won’t last much longer! Soon, you’ll be so numb that you won’t be able to move! This blade is covered in poison that is now racing through your body!”

She looked at the cackling Kempf and sighed deeply. “Pathetic. And you call yourself a general of Friege!? You think you can compare to my brother when you wield a weapon like that!?”

The moment he heard those words, his eyes opened as wide as they could. “Are you saying that I’m inferior to Reinhart!?”

Olwen looked at the infuriated Kempf and braced herself. Her right leg was starting to go numb.

“Me, inferior to Reinhart!? As if there’s anyone better than me!” He raised his sword and took a step forward.

She swerved her horse’s head and dodged the attack.

“Grr! Damn you!!” He turned around mid-step and saw her sword coming down at him.

It slashed his neck open.

Blood gushed from the gash, and he fell on his back.

“I pity you.” She looked down at his dead body and muttered.

Glade and the others had already defeated the rest of the enemies.

“I’m going to heal you now, Olwen!” Linoan said while rushing over to her.

“Okay, thank you.” Olwen dismounted her horse.

The moment her feet touched the ground, she fell forward.

“Ahh!” Linoan shrieked and extended a hand to Olwen in a panic.

Olwen was just as surprised herself.

The poison was clearly taking affect now. She couldn’t feel either of her legs and her hands were shaking a bit.

“You’ll feel better soon.” Linoan helped Olwen sit down, then raised her staff.

A pale light glowed from the staff, and Olwen soon felt at ease.

“Are you alright, Lady Olwen?” She saw Fred running up to her.

“Yes, thanks to Linoan’s healing.” She smiled at him.

Fred breathed a sigh of relief.

“I don’t think any more enemies are going to attack us for a while. You should rest for now.” Glade told her.

“Yes, I think I will.” She mounted her horse with Fred’s help.

*

Leif looked forward. He was breathing so hard that his shoulders were heaving.

The bodies of the imperial soldiers were strewn about on the floor.

“Now all we have left to do is get through this next area…”

He was referring to the area leading to the throne room. If he could seize the throne, then victory would be his.

“Yes, sir!” Dorias nodded vigorously.

“I think we should divide into two groups now, Lord Leif.” August suddenly suggested.

“Why, August?”

“I understand that there are two hallways leading to the throne room.”

“That’s right. But why do we need to go down both hallways, even if there are soldiers standing guard on both sides?” Leif asked.

August grinned at the question. “Earlier, I asked Lord Dorias about where the hostages are being held, and he said there’s a high chance that they are in a small room located down one of the hallways. I think we should free them first.”

“That’s a good idea.” Leif nodded.

“So we should have one group distract the soldiers while the other frees the hostages.”

“I see.” Leif thought the plan over in his head. “But what should we do if the diversion group ends up fighting General Xavier?”

“We have no reason to worry about that. General Xavier is always by Gustav’s side. He should be protecting the throne room.”

“Uh-huh…” Leif nodded and took some more time to think about the plan. “Alright. We’ll split into two groups.” He looked at everyone and ordered.

[kharmaisa]

Reclaiming the Camp

RP with Manic and @arifarjournal  . Thank you both so much!

Many Days Before Reunion...

After meeting with Ochigin that morning, Gheita and Kharma wasted no time gathering the Sadan together. Of them was Hulagu, of whom the Elchin held at slightly higher value than the others. At least in Kharma's mind. Regardless, she made certain he was kept close. They raced on. "<We are close! What can you see?>" She asked the man who obstructed her view. "<Nothing good,>" Gheita replied. He explained about seeing two carts, one toppled over. There is debris about. Being about a 5-minute ride away, they were too far to tell if anyone is around. "<Just keep an eye out behind us and on our sides... not sure what we are dealing with here with this.>" Kharma was not able to see much, even as she leaned over. "I will," she stated gripping onto his side more. Gheita noticed movement, a horse from behind the cart. It seems like someone might be keeping it there. Off to the side, Kharma spots distant riders. "<There are others approaching. Five I believe. They are some ways off but heading to where we are. We will beat them,>" she stated. Perhaps it was her talking or his focus on the horse appearance that distracted them.   Neither saw the arrow from another angle heading right for Gehita. 

The man was hit from the side. It stuck to his armor, thick enough that this it did not pierce him enough to deter him. Kharma was startled by the sound of it. Attention now torn from the opposite direction, she snapped the arrow down from his side before Gheita hopped off the horse looking for cover. Rage filled her heart. His word reached her still. "<Kharma, get your blade ready, we need to find cover and prepare to attack,>" he stated calmly. A usual tone before getting into the heat of battle. She got off the horse. As they stopped the others did also. Kharma got her blade from a hulking blue male who borrowed it before pointing ahead. "<Ulcha, take three and head straight ahead. Hulagu, take the rest to meet the other riders,>" she stated as her focus and fingers shifted. "<We will be along.>" Kharma saw them hurry off while this time Gheita got a full view of the archer aiming at them once more. Eyes on the archer, Kharma moved ahead. Happenchance would have her great sword to block the oncoming arrow. She continued to press forward using the large sword as a shield while Gheita ran just behind her. The Archer continued firing, sometimes she stalled too late and shot too high for Kharma to reach. The short, red Xaela had no doubt her companion would handle the attack.  Gheita Qerel would actually grab his ax as they approached, twisting his grip the edge of the weapon had a red glow to it. He bull rushed the archer and launched himself up to swing right down on the possibly misfortunate archer. Kharma slowed to a stop. The archer’s blood arched in the air from where she was and trusted him to leave the archer incapacitated. She cared not for their life, only Gheita's. Glancing around, Kharma spotted no other trouble near them. The same could not be said for the other groups.  She saw only frenzied magic, no doubt stunned from there being magic on the field. Why she froze and failed to notice anything else, she did not know. It was Gheita who could tell that the Ulchin's group needed slightly more help. The 4 Sadan were against three others, one of which was a shaman. Hulagu and his team of five others seemed to be doing a bit better. They faced one shaman and four others including two archers along with two melee fighters. Still, Kharma was not able to tell which to attack first. The most distant group seemed to be situated, Gheita noticed. There was one towering giant of a man who fought with a grace. Hulagu was his name, judging by his stature. He weaved his way to dance around his enemies with his men. They too moved in effective coordination with their Daichin. Sparks like fireflies flew across the battle as weapon clashed against weapon. In the meantime, Gheita was poised and ready to bull rush again. His aether cracked in a low growl. Still, he moved fluently and with purpose as if he knew how to handle his berserker side. Gheita did what he was trained to do and simply kept his momentum going. It seemed he was more fixed on fighting than anything else. He kept a mind of his surroundings though.  "<Stay behind me, I will get you in>". He aimed his charged towards the melee fighters. "<Get the magic user,>" he said before doing a side swing charge.  Gheita then blocked an attack with his gauntlet. It seemed that bulk of metal had its purposes. Reaching for the weapon he glared and grunted at the man as he hammered his ax down with one hand.  Eventually,  Kharma found her focus again thanks you Gheita's direction and remained behind him until she spotted the magic user. They were still gathering a spell when Kharma swung her greatsword at them. It slashed their chest open enough to stop the immediate attack. She felt her massive blade get stuck in the earth. Unable to move it, she was attacked by the staff of the shaman as they prepared a faster spell for attacking. Kharma used the weight of the sword to deliver a kick to the magic user, interrupting their spell once more. The kick caused the shaman much pain, but not much more damage. Kharma left the sword in the ground and dawned her fisticuff weapons. She would deal with the magic user herself. Behind her, Gheita pressed his boot down on the melee fighter and unembedded his ax. Surely, this was a tactic he used often in combat. With this combat area handled, she left Gheita to look for clues or question any remaining survivors as she focused on the final survivor. 

The other groups seemed to be fairing well. Ulcha and the others took down the third fighter at the camps. One stayed with the Haragin while two others rallied with Hulagu's forces. They were able to subdue those other fighters. Kharma Kha paused in her steps. Her eyes remained on the Shaman she was fighting. "< Gheita. Find the tracks for Enhsegr. Take two sadan with you.>" Hulagu eventually made his way over from his troops. He cracked his neck, a large gash on the side of his forearms and the metal vambrace he usually wore was split. He nodded at the two before Gheita departed. <"Are you well?"> Hulagu asked the remaining red Xaela. Hers was a quieter response as she approached the last shaman, seemingly hunched over, trying to keep their innards intact. "<We live. That is well enough,>" she stated. Just as she finished speaking, a light came from the shaman. They had not been bent over idly. The injured Shaman conjured one attack. Pale blue one aimed at the two bore a blast of sharp ice at the two. Hulagu Kha stood in front of Kharma, taking the blast for both of them. The ice was so cold is seared his flesh. She heard it as the man grunted and knelt on the ground. He managed one line: "<I...am okay... kill that bastard.>" At hearing that, fury filled eyes landed on the Shaman. She rushed around Hulagu and charged the downed shaman. She slammed her armored fist against the side of her head. The shaman was rendered unconscious. She pulled back her arm again and continued to pummel the Xaela’s head twice more until they did not move. Blood continued to seep from her chest wound. Kharma rose, content to let the Xaela suffer and die slowly. Afterward, Kharma moved quickly to kneel beside Hulagu. "<You are not as well as you fight,>" she stated, intending to compliment his skill. "<You must get better. Ochigin must hear of your song,>" she stated absently as she attempted to waved down one of the remaining Sedan. Hulagu snorted, managing to stand up even though the front of his armor was still crackling slightly with aether. If there is anything that Ochigin share with his siblings besides their look is their stubbornness. "<I am okay,>" he stated. Nevertheless, accept the other Sadan's help to assist him walking Kharma stood up with them before tasking the other Sadan. There were Haragin and Horses to round up, clues to trace, and information to gather. There was zero intention of bringing them to the same Kha camp as the others. "<We will hold them here until their camp is located. Then we will bring their bodies, living and not, and take back what belonged to the Kha.>" She was quick to get a report about raiders heading in a different direction. Their track suggested enough for her to reach for her linkshell. This somehow felt like a more personal. One she did not know if she was too late for.  "<Sarantduu. Are you well?>" 

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 15 - West Roth

The winter of 9:31 Dragon draws to a bitter close. Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, hero of the people, has revealed a string of secret letters between King Cailan and Empress Celene of Orlais. The specifics are unclear, but suspicion of Orlesians run deep, and there are always those willing to take advantage of political scandal. Declaring the king unfit to rule, Loghain has retreated to his southern stronghold in Gwaren, with Queen Anora by his side. Fear and greed threaten to tear Ferelden apart. In Denerim, Cailan busies himself with maps and battle plans, hoping to stem the tide of blood before it can start. In the Arling of Edgehall, King Maric’s bastard son fights against the rebels flocking to the traitor’s banner, determined to free himself from the shadow of his royal blood. And in Highever, Rosslyn Cousland, bitter at being left behind, watches as her father and brother ride to war, unaware of the betrayal lurking in the smile of their closest friend.

Words: 2826 Chapter summary: After weeks of trying to hold her people together, Rosslyn finally meets Howe on the field of battle.

CW:  canon-typical violence, battle scenes, and gore throughout; animal cruelty in the first two paragraphs

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

Seventeenth day of Drakonis, 9:32 Dragon

Sat atop her horse, Rosslyn watched the battle unfold with anxious intensity. She was hidden in the trees along with her house guard and a unit of mounted templars, waiting for the right moment to spring her trap. Across the river, the dust of the first skirmishes had settled, and the main force of the two armies slogged it out, shield-to-shield in the afternoon sun.

They had chosen their field well, on a flat plain tucked into a meander of the West Roth River so that their enemy couldn’t use his superior numbers to outflank them. Perceiving them trapped against the spated river, Howe had sent his cavalry thundering down the slope, with the war dogs baying and the troopers’ blades flashing, in the hopes of panicking Highever’s infantry into a rout. But that morning, runners had gone out beyond the battle lines and scattered a cloud of deadly-sharp caltrops just where the ground began to level out, and at full gallop the charge had never stood a chance. With a terrible noise of horses and dogs, Howe’s cavalry had fallen apart before it could even reach its target, a wall of muscle and steel that writhed and kicked and struggled, impaled on barbed iron spikes. Troopers had shrieked as their mounts crushed them. It had been horrifying, a tragic waste, but war was war and in one stroke Howe had been robbed of his swift victory, his army had been hobbled, and his soldiers had been made witness to the ruthlessness of Highever’s commander.

Even so, Rosslyn had been glad when Teagan ordered the archers to loose a volley into the line and put an end to the screaming.

Howe had learned caution after that. What remained of his cavalry had retreated, his pet apostates had cracked and frozen the ground to make the caltrops useless, and with a steady beating of swords on shields, the massive bulk of his infantry had advanced stolidly down the hill.

“Much good may it do you,” Rosslyn murmured now with a vicious grin. “There I am, you mongrel. Go and get me.”

She watched as Morrence, dressed in as much of Rosslyn’s armour as would fit on her smaller, slighter frame, wheeled Highever’s cavalry across the field like a flock of starlings, with Cuno at her side. They danced just out of Howe’s reach, strafing along the ranks of pike-defended archers and then propping away before the remains of the enemy cavalry could retaliate. The brow of the falcon helm flashed in the sun, drawing attention away from the almost too-easy advance of his infantry. It wouldn’t be long now. Lasan stamped an impatient hoof.

Down in the melee, the house standards of Highever’s allies stood out like butterflies against the dullness of leather and dust – the Storm Crow of West Hill, Loren’s Sunburst, and in the centre, the Tower and Stars of Rainesfere next to her own Laurels. Alistair was down there somewhere, holding the line of the shield wall.  A prick of worry needled Rosslyn’s gut before she could push it away, remembering when she had last seen him, when he had sought her out by the picket lines to deliver Teagan’s final report before Howe’s troops crested the hill. Most of her guards had been mounted already, waiting only for her to lead them into the woods beyond the camp.

“Are you set?” she had asked as she waved him over.

“Everything’s ready,” he answered. “We’ll stick to the plan, don’t worry. We know what we’re doing, and all we can do now is wait.”

She nodded, glancing over her milling troops. “I’ve never been very good at that.”

“The trick is to let your mind go blank and avoid thinking about anything at all,” he replied, with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Easier for some than others, I would say.” Banter she could do. It added distance to the churn of her stomach, knowing that she wasn’t just leading a skirmish, but commanding an entire force that was relying on her to see them safe.

“Was that an insinuation about my mental capacity?”

She gasped. “Such a suggestion is unwarranted slander.” The effort was too much. She had to steady her breath. “You’ll be in the thick of it – they’ll come straight for you,” she said.

“If you’re not careful, my lady, that noble façade of yours will crack and everyone will find out you do care.” But the tease fell flat and Alistair rubbed a hand through his hair, so it stuck up at odd angles.

She fought the urge to reach out and smooth it down. “Decent sparring partners are difficult to find these days.”

“Is that so?” His gaze flicked down to the Cousland sword belted to her waist, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You promised.”

Her fingers closed over the pommel. “I remember, but… Howe’s out there. This is my chance to –” She stumbled. Howe needed to die by her father’s sword, and she needed to be the one to do it, but explaining why either of those things mattered took more effort than she had when confronted by the hurt shining in his eyes. “My family deserves justice.”

Alistair’s scowl deepened. “I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If you were that sorry, you wouldn’t be doing it,” he snapped.

“Believe what you want.” She made to step away – it was a waste of time to try and make him understand, she should have known he wouldn’t – but he blocked her path.

“So that’s it, is it?” he growled. He took a step forward, looming in his coat of splintmail. “This is how the valiant Falcon of Highever keeps her word? The darling of the people, so desperate to show what she’s worth and too proud to use a common sword, even if it’s likely to get her killed. Is that what you want? Will it be worth having Howe’s head when your guts are spilling over the grass? You know it won’t bring them back!”

He blinked, then, mouth agape as if to catch back all the words he had not meant to say, but she had already marched past him towards where Lasan waited in the hands of a groom. After a final check that her horse’s tack was sitting properly, she mounted and gathered the reins, taking care to steady her temper.

“You’d best get back to your troops, Ser,” she said, when Alistair remained unmoving.

He shook his head. “It’s not worth your life, Rosslyn.” The look on his face…

“Gods go with you.”

And she had turned and ridden away, in too high a temper to appreciate that she might never see him again.

She couldn’t afford to think about that now. Howe’s infantry was beginning to spill around the edges of her own. The weight of superior numbers threatened to envelop the Laurels entirely, and with nowhere to run, it would only be a matter of time before they succeeded, but the scent of victory had drawn them far enough away from Howe to make them vulnerable. It was the moment she had been waiting for.

“Send the message,” she said to the runner waiting at Lasan’s shoulder. The young man saluted crisply and darted down the bank to where a team of carpenters and mages waited with ice spells and a drawbridge made of pallets and spare logs. Rosslyn watched him go, choosing to focus on that rather than the thrill of fury coiling in her stomach.

“Are you ready, Gideon?” she asked her commander.

“Right behind you, lass,” he replied, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “Wouldn’t miss this.”

“We’re all with you,” Irminric added from her other side. He and the two templars riding with him would be her defence against Howe’s apostates, while she went for the man himself.

Rosslyn laughed. “In that case, it’s time for some Bear-baiting.” She stood in the stirrups and turned to the troopers behind her. “Make ready! You’ve all waited for this; you all know what’s been taken from you! I promised you vengeance, now go down there and take it!” She drew her sword high, the weight of it a comfort in her hand. Two hundred blades flashed in answer, drawn with a wave of whoops and wordless shouts that drowned out the noise of battle below, and with a feral grin she gave the signal to advance.

Her cavalry poured down the hill. They clattered over the ice-anchored bridge at a trot, and as they climbed the other side, Rosslyn stood high in the stirrups, a piercing yell on her lips, a shriek like her epithet. Lasan whinnied a challenge, echoed by the other horses as the soldiers echoed her. They crested the bank at a ground-shattering charge, a wall of sound and steel appearing out of nowhere with the Laurels blazing as they split into two horns to smash the enemy left and right. Rosslyn saw the line of Amaranthine infantry pause in confusion – Morrence swept down on them, the first Falcon on the field – she felt the ripple of uncertainty, and when the spearpoint of her attack broke into their flank, it crumpled like wet paper.

The smack of impact jarred up her arm; momentum alone carried her through the first stunned ranks of the enemy. Men fell screaming under the flash of her blade, under Lasan’s hooves and Iriminric’s shield. She lost track of things, her head full of noise, her throat already hoarse from shouting and her eyes blinded by the westering sun. Howe’s soldiers tried to run, but the mages sent immolations over their heads, creating a line of roaring flame that pinned and panicked those it did not consume.

In seconds the balance of the fight shifted, and the defensive bend of the river became a killing field. Surrounded on all sides, with magic raining from above, the Amaranthine army was pushed towards the river as Highever’s ranks parted and reformed to block their enemy’s escape, with the cavalry sowing chaos enough to keep them from forming a defence, and the day began to turn. Heartbeats stretched. Rosslyn sank into herself, detached from the slaughter, the faces of those she struck down blurring as each next one rose to take the place of the one before, the one thought in her mind the drive to press out of the melee, north, to the hill where her family’s murderer sat smug under the fluttering orange and white of the Bear.

“House guard to me!” she yelled when she finally found an opening. She rode Lasan through the last line and saw a flash of blue and knew the Laurels followed her. Others stayed to corral the enemy but as she flew past, her soldiers cheered in salute and hurried to plug the space she left in her wake. Howe was turning, fleeing from the unexpected change in fortune, but the hounds bayed at her heels and her horse was a spark of fire, and she herself was the Falcon, who dived out of the sun and swept in death with her wings, and she would not suffer the traitor to live.

They were gaining.

“Ware, riders!”

The cry came from her right, and she looked, puzzled, drawing in Lasan’s speed to follow the trooper’s pointing finger to the bottom of the hill behind her. What she saw made her blood run cold.

A wedge of heavy horse, charging without banner along the river’s edge, the troopers’ blades high as they bellowed like bulls, straight for the exposed back of her infantry. A secret reserve? She couldn’t think.

“My lady!”

She saw Howe’s banner disappear over the hill, the coward running to save himself, taking her vengeance with him.

“Lady Rosslyn, what do we do?”

She saw her soldiers turn, saw their courage break even as Morrence dragged her wing out of the melee to meet the new threat.

“Which way, my lady?”

The goal was Howe. Without him, there would be no need for rebellion in the North. Without him, Highever could be free. There could be no second chance. If she lost him now, he would sit in comfort and let her break herself against her own walls and laugh as she spent her rage and her blood to tear him down. And yet to chase him down would be to abandon those who had laid their lives on her trust, to break the promise she had made them just like she had broken the promise made on her family’s sword.

Her army, or her home?

“My lady…?”

I’m sorry, Father. She squeezed her eyes shut and kicked Lasan into a gallop.

--

The ground trembled as Alistair braced against the oncoming cavalry. He shouted for the ragged shield wall to hold. They had found spears from somewhere, and the line in front of him dug them into the ground, the points levelled straight for the horses’ hearts. It wouldn’t be enough. The Amaranthine infantry clawed at the lines behind him, spurred by the appearance of allies and the panic it had caused among Highever’s ranks. Loren’s banner had fallen, the Templars were being overwhelmed, and Alistair himself had watched Teagan go down under a mace before he managed to stem the rout and rally the line. He didn’t know if his uncle still lived, didn’t have the spare energy to find out. He thought back to his only other battle, all the waiting he had done under the winter-sleeping pine trees, and after, when he had laughed until he choked to find himself still alive. There would be no survival this time, he knew; the only question was how long his strength would last. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the falcon helm flash in the sun as Captain Morrence led the Highever cavalry on a bloody path to rescue the mages, and readjusted his shield on his arm.

“Hold steady,” he growled at the soldiers next to him. “We can hold them.”

He breathed. The horses came on. Eight strides – five. At least Rosslyn made it away. At least she was safe.

And then, three strides out from the clash, a banner unfurled and blazed the royal War Dogs of Ferelden, and the cavalry propped and swung away, flowing around the Highever infantry like a river around a rock. In the confusion, Howe’s mercenaries pressed their advantage. The line broke. The cavalry washed against the melee without a clear target and was deflected for another pass, and between on heartbeat and the next Alistair lost track of the banner as the ordered fighting devolved into a writhing sea of steel.

His feet slipped in the mud. He smashed his shield into someone’s face, recognising only the orange and white of the Bear before whirling to the rescue of a boy with the Laurels on his surcoat. His breath sawed through his lungs but he kept pushing, kept slashing at anything that came within range of him, half-blind with other people’s blood.

“To me!” he gasped. “To the Laurels!”

Finally, the defensive line was reined into some sort of order, but a flurry of arrows hissed overhead and the man beside him was too slow to raise his shield. Alistair cursed. There seemed no end to the Amaranthine soldiers. The royal cavalry penned them in, driving them onto the battered and wavering shield wall. In battle with fresh soldiers, the tactic might have worked, but right now it was only going to get more people killed.

“Look, over there!”

The cheer went up and Alistair turned despite his better instincts. It was Rosslyn. She surged through the enemy like a scythe through summer hay, cutting off the advance of the Amaranthine infantry with a wall of swords and striking hooves. The pressure on the defensive line eased. They pushed forward, gathered up the wounded. Someone must have recognised her, or her horse, because the enemy swarmed towards her with renewed vigour, but by then she was already clear of the melee and arcing around to meet it again.

Movement distracted him from the sight and he flinched as a broad-headed axe swiped for his head. He raised his shield just in time, cursing himself for forgetting the first rule of combat, but the axe caught it at a bad angle and with a deep crack pain shot through his arm into his shoulder. He managed to parry the next blow and staggered backwards, but his feet slipped again. Exhaustion took him to his knees. His opponent prowled forwards, a giant in armour that was hard-used but well-maintained, with a neatly trimmed moustache beneath his helmet. Alistair supposed it must be the shock that was letting him see such fine details. He bared his teeth and brought his sword in close. The axe came swinging for his head.

[tastesoftamriel]

Into Oblivion, part 5 (a long tale by Talviel)

Unfortunately, this attracted the attention of the middle dremora, which was initially heading towards Brynjolf, and I had two angry minions of Mehrunes Dagon chasing after me. I sprinted straight toward the trap tile, and leapt over it at the last second. The dremora weren’t so lucky. In their clunky armour, they stepped heavily onto the tile and a massive guillotine dropped from the ceiling, decapitating one and slicing the other in half. I whooped and ran around in a circle. Brynjolf had already dispatched his dremora, and stared at me doing my victory dance. “You’ll always be that 17 year old rookie thief who did the exact same thing after we got the Eye of the Falmer off Mercer.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t be a killjoy, let me have my moment! You’ve got to admit, that was a nice kill.” I laughed, skipping over the safe tiles to him. He simply knuckled my hair and forged onto the path ahead.

The path wound upwards. Two more dremora as well a few pods were quickly dealt with, and we sifted through our treasure (which by now was rather hefty) before facing another door. “After you, Vi.” Brynjolf said, bowing to me. “Why thank you my darling Bryn, for sending me to my death.” I said sarcastically, pushing it open. To my relief, it simply led to another corridor slanting down. My relief was quickly replaced with annoyance when I discovered a daedroth, scamp, and two more dremora. By this stage I was getting tired of fighting; I was a thief, not a mercenary. I instructed Brynjolf to help me round them all into a corner, where I froze them solid with the Ice Form shout and slashed at them all one by one. The next floor down was the same, just with different enemies. I couldn’t use the Thu'um, so we had to pick them off the hard way. Thankfully, we reached a door on the ground floor and caught our breath before finding out what was on the other side.

We were back out in the open again, on a path edged by rock walls as in the beginning. We climbed up the rock, only jumping down to break open pods (by this stage my sack was almost unbearably heavy). We cut down a few lone scamps and atronaches, and found ourselves back at the beginning where the long stone bridge led to the gate. To our relief, the gate was open from the levers we’d pushed earlier. I reached for Brynjolf’s hand. “Bryn, this is the final stretch, and the hardest. Let’s make it out alive. And if we don’t, I love you.” I said, my voice quivering. He kissed my forehead. “I know. We’ve come this far, lass. We’ll make it, I know it.” “Three million bloody septims isn’t enough compensation for all we’ve been through.” I sniffled, rogue tears running down my ash-stained cheeks. “Aye, I’ll agree with you on that one. Now let’s patch up your wounds, lass, and make that final sprint. Together.” He handed me a couple of potions, and I chugged them down, feeling my broken flesh knit over, and praying to Talos and Nocturnal for the best.

To our surprise, nothing came charging onto the bridge towards us. We walked forward, scared but with our heads held high and our weapons drawn. As we reached the gate, a horn bellowed and various ominous noises cackled to life. Taking a deep breath, we stepped beyond the gate, and inhaled sharply. At least a dozen dremora and atronaches were roughly assembled, clannfears and daedroths roamed around in great numbers, and innumerable scamps flew through the air. Beyond them, an intimidating glow radiated off the top of the immense tower we were aiming for, containing the great sigil stone. Brynjolf swore under his breath, looking defeated for the first time since I’d known him. “We’re not going to make it lass.” He whispered despondently. “Yes, we are. Hold me, Bryn.” “What?” “Just do it. Trust me.” He hugged me tightly from behind, and taking a deep breath, I shouted “Wuld Nah Kest!” We were propelled forward at an inhuman speed, past our enemies and almost to the door of the tower. “What in the-” Brynjolf spluttered, unable to believe his eyes. “No time, run!” I yelled, as our unsavoury company turned to rush towards us.

We reached the tower door and slammed it behind us. Brynjolf rummaged through his sack and pulled out a solid piece of timber, using it to bar the door. “That should keep them out for a while, but the ones I’m most worried about are the dremora, since they’re the ones who know how to open doors.” “Let’s move it then, fast. The sigil stone is at the top of this tower. Let’s do this, come on!” I shouted, taking the precariously uneven stairs two at a time. My hope faltered when I saw the opponents that faced us. Three dremora, including an archer and a mage, blocked the curving corridor ahead, and looking up, there were more on the top level, where we needed to be. “Steady lass.” Brynjolf said under his breath, pulling out his bow and arrows. “I’m going to get the mage first, in case it feels like healing its cronies, then I’ll come up with my blades. Think you can handle them?” I gulped and nodded, swinging my sword nervously. Brynjolf gave the signal, and I charged up the stairs. I swiped at the first dremora and punctured its armour, then aimed for its face hoping to smash it through. I was fatigued and slow though, and it made a low blow to my left knee and I rolled down the stairs, feeling the dent in the metal greaves that thankfully had taken most of the impact. “Vi!” screamed Brynjolf. He had taken down the mage and was now wielding both blades, slashing with reckless abandon at the dremora that had downed me. I groaned and struggled to my feet, feeling a sharp pain in my knee before something pinged off my breastplate. The archer was aiming for me, and nicked my arm on the next try. “Brynjolf, help!” I cried. He plunged towards the archer and sank both his blades deep into its skull. He bounded down the stairs, lifting me to my feet. “Ssh, it’s okay, lass. Almost there. Can you walk?” I winced and nodded, but hissed in pain when I tried to take a step. Brynjolf quickly pulled my arm over his shoulder, and helped me limp up the stairs.

We had reached the second storey when the pounding on the door began. “We’ll have to hurry.” I groaned. “They’re coming.” “Sorry to tell you this lass, but you’ll have to limp a little faster. I’d give you a potion but we don’t have time.” I grunted in reply, and used all my strength to surge forward as fast as my injured leg could take me. Brynjolf picked off the two dremora and spider daedra that guarded the top floor balcony alone when the sound of cracking wood came from downstairs. To my horror, a horde of dremora and some other monsters broke through the door, streaming into the tower. “Oh Talos. Bryn, Bryn, we’re almost to the stone.” I gasped, hobbling towards the final door that lay between us and our prize.

A dark corridor opened on the right to the Sigillum Sanguis, a red-lit room, with surprise, more enemies patrolling it. Brynjolf swore. “Lass, we’re going to make it. Now the plan is to ignore all the enemies and get to the stone. If your book was right, that should dump us back on Solstheim. We do this the Guild way: get what we need and get out. Understood?” I nodded weakly. “I’m not dying in this fucking place. Let’s go.” A daedroth greeted us at the base of another flight of stairs, and we groaned in unison. Hauling me along as fast as he could, Brynjolf dragged us up the stairs, only to find more dremora waiting. “These fucking things won’t stop!” He yelled. “Come on lass, one last set of stairs, I see the stone. We’re almost there.” He panted. I tried to take some of my weight off him so we could move faster, and gritted my teeth through the pain. As we started to climb the stairs, almost at our prize, the door burst open and the horde of monsters poured in. Our way above was blocked by a spider daedra.

“Not on my bloody watch are we going to die here today!” Brynjolf roared. He slashed at the daedra with one hand, and it hopped backwards. By now the monsters downstairs were almost upon us, flooding in from both sides. The sigil stone was just a few steps away. Brynjolf and I limped what felt like a mile, yet before we could grab the stone our enemies had flooded in from both sides. “Bryn, right or left?” “I don’t know, right!” I steadied myself and screamed to the right with all my might. “FUS RO DAH!” The monsters flew backward, some toppling down to the ground beneath us. The ones on the left side however, continued their way forward towards us. “Now!” Brynjolf shouted, and reaching for the the stone with one hand, unconsciously reaching for each other with the other, we grabbed onto the sigil stone. “I love you, Vi.” He whispered, and the last thing we saw was a daedroth charging towards us.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading and congratulations! Next week will be the epilogue, bringing a close to Into Oblivion. Stay tuned, and thanks for reading!