#(why are are there so many griffon spellings???)

[greyishbobbi]

This little friend is taking a nap in the sun. God, I wish that were me. You can find this pattern on my kofi! Thank you for taking a look, I love you specifically.

[ark-erika]

Pen sketches from work

[hollowflight-propaganda]

No way?!?! I'm posting art that ISN'T cat fanart?!?!?!

Anyway, this is my definitely-not-a-day-late drawing for the first day of Cringetober! (Ignore how I didn't even polish this because I didn't want to put it off anymore) This is the first and one of the only heterochromia havers in my queer wolf story, Blazor! Infodump below if you're interested.

So, I bet you've noticed that he's not a wolf, he's actually a griffon dragon hybrid! Yeah, there's a reason I wanted to draw him for Cringetober. The draconic part of him is his back half, which gets him occasional weird looks because all the other griffons only have mammalian back halves, but most are tolerant of him. He's dead during the main story and has been dead for like 3,000 years due to a mass extinction event that wiped out all the cool mythical creatures :(That's why I chose to talk about him mainly, because what's there to spoil when his purpose is to be dead!

Funny story, I originally gave him heterochromia because I had a scraped sequel plot where he gets reincarnated as one of the new characters in it. The sequel was a whole mess and none of it exists in the canon anymore, but it's still the reason why I gave him heterochromia, which I did to make his eye color match with his reincarnation's. The scraped sequel was wild and I kinda miss it.

Anyway, couple tidbits about Blazor. The chip in his beak is something he got from an accident when he was first learning to fly, he didn't damage anything else luckily but he still gave his poor mom a heart attack. He also spends a good majority of his time busking! I'm still on the fence on making up instruments because they're fucking dragons, or not doing that because I'm lazy. Just know that what he plays is something similar to a mandolin!

[glasswhistles]

Plz send me a bird and a land animal and I will make a griffon out of them

[whitekneewebby]

i saw a thing about fox/seagull griffons and I raise you, canada goose/honey badger griffons, they have no fear, ultimate asshole aura, and will fight God for no fucking reason, god is the one afraid

[thisuserislilsilly]

Summary: How much can secrets be kept from the Imperium?

Pairing: MENTION of Ogodei/Hildegard (Hildegard belongs to me, the Phantoms as a Chapter belongs to the OG creator @cardinalcanis), MENTION of Jubik/Ascilen (Ascilen baby my boy @jaghatai-khock is precious OG creator)

Genre: Drama/angst

TW: Physical torture, mental torture, a lot of dialogue, blood, angst

Goblin tag squad (lemme know if you wanna get tagged too): @finchly-tintinnabulation @cardinalcanis @jaghatai-khock @artemisareia @echo-of-damnation @meervalv0

Protecting the family

???: Ogodei...is that your real name? From before you were an Astartes?

Ogodei: Our Chapter let us keep the names our mothers chose for us after the trials are completed

???: Huh, interesting tradition, I thought every Marine followed the article about naming conventions

Ogodei: Excuse me? What article?

???: Codex Astartes, page 4032, "About a Marine's name and life", article 9004

Ogodei: I did not had that page bookmarked, sorry —chuckles—

???: —slamming hands against a table— Oh you think you're so clever, don't ya Ember Nomad?

Ogodei: Not as daddy's perfect boy like you, Robters

Robters: My patience is already running out, Nomad, I'll remind you the Primarch Guilliman authorized the Howling Griffons to question your loyalties

Ogodei: Oh please do not come at me with that shit; it was not a direct order from a Primarch, you Griffons were just waiting for having a excuse to throw suspicion at our faces...

The room was filthy, covered in blood stains here and there, the lights flickered and were dangling from the ceiling; Ogodei could barely see beyond the handcuffs on his wrists, the skin was already sore underneath. Only a few hours ago had the descendants of the XIII Legion arrived unannounced, more than half of their Chapter embarked the Nomads flagship, not waiting for any formal introductions or permits to get it. Who looked to be the Marine in charge was lifting in his right hand a parchment with the Ultramarine insignia giving the Howling Griffons full authority to inquire their cousins about recent rumors of strange behavior and seeds of heresy between their ranks. In the following couple of minutes the Griffons had already hand-picked five Marines to interrogate, bringing them to the room in question where Ogodei was being held. He had been the second Nomad to enter.

As for the Captains, they had been separated from their companies, much to the protests of Jubik and other veteran captains that had spent much of their time with their men only to be ripped apart in an instant; the 10th was the most affected of them all, with the scouts lost and confused as to what was going on and why did they not have authorization to access the common rooms of the ship.

Robters: Don't go dozing off on me, come on there is plenty to discuss

Ogodei: That is an interesting way to spell out "torture"

Robters: I am not the bad guy here Ogodei, I just want answers, if you cooperate I do not have to force my hand again

Ogodei: Like what? Do I need to answer how many times do we recite a prayer to the Emperor? How many candles do we have in our rooms or do you want more spicier answers as how frequently we showe-

Robters: —Slaps the Nomad across the face— I had it with your mockery of our rules, you fool!

Ogodei: —Grumbles as he accommodates in the chair— Fine....fine I will..."cooperate"

Robters: That's better...now; are you aware of the Viridian Phantoms?

Ogodei: —soft chuckle— More than you can imagine

Robters: What is that supposed to mean?

Ogodei: I have good relationships with them, for example they allow me to enter their ships without authorization and let me watch their traditions. That is trust between cousins Griffon...you could learn from that

Robters: I will not indulge in your provocations Ogodei...you would do good in staying as far away from them as possible

Ogodei: And why would I ever listen to an advice such as that one?

Robters: —Sighs— Because they are...how could I put this gently for you-

Ogodei: You have said enough things to make my blood boil and my mind to imagine your death Robters, just say it

Robters: They're tools, more than you and me could ever be in the hands of our beloved Imperium. I take you've looked at their faces at least once; repulsive, that's the word I think of when I remember them

Ogodei: So you have not looked yourself at the mirror recently, I presume

Robters: I will make you scream for that one...but you know nothing good has ever come out of Krieg

Ogodei: Funny, the Macragge system has Nuceria in it right? Oh sorry..."had"

The Nomad felt the Griffon kicking his chair out of the way, letting Ogodei smash his head against the table, then lifting him up by the hair and start throwing a flurry of blows against his face over and over. Robters did not stop until his hand was red, soaked in the blood of the other; he let go of Ogodei hair and watched as the Nomad struggled to keep himself conscious, his breathing weezing from the broken bones in his nose.

Robters: You done, you savage piece of shit? Or you want more?

Ogodei: No, I think I am fine like this, thank you for the concern

Robters: —Huffs— You've been warned Ogodei; stay away from the Phantoms if you don't want me coming back here and finishing the job

Ogodei: I'll be sure to wait with a Ultramar cake recipe so you don't go hungry-

Despite the pain, despite the punishment his body suffered for the next twenty minutes, Ogodei never stopped laughing. The bones in his hand ended up broken, one of his ribs was broken, skin around his left eye was purple and bloated and lower jaw had been dislocated by a nasty right hook but in the end Ogodei got the last laugh, he got to spit in the face of the Griffon, watch that face contorted as nothing of what he threw at the Nomad made the Marine flinch; realizing he would get nothing out of Ogodei, Robters finally released him and threw the Marine out of the room, furiously calling out for the next suspect to enter the chamber.

Ogodei was carried to the medical wing by two of his brothers, each one holding one of the injured arms and keeping him on his two feet. The Nomad was delirious, chuckling out of nowhere or just speaking absolute nonsense; he did not manage to recognize anyone nor where he was exactly. He stared at the ceiling, eyes staring at nothingness while the minutes went by in total painful silence. He couldn't even feel his body anymore.

After an incalculable amount of time had passed, the doors of the medical wing opened once more, a commotion formed outside, shouting and bickering becoming louder as someone past right beside Ogodei, picked up a stretcher and then returned to the outside. The Nomad was so hurt he couldn't even sit himself upright to see the scene, but he guessed someone else had come out of the torture chamber and in an even worse state than him; but nothing could had ever prepared Ogodei for what came next.

The stretcher rolled its wheels until stopping right beside the bed in which Ogodei found himself. There, with a rebreather in his mouth and wounds so worrisome Ogodei would had thought the Marine dead if not for his very subtle breathing, Jubik laid motionless. The long beard was dyed red, his eyes were closed, his lips dry, the rest of his face looked disfigured to the point Ogodei guessed it would take multiple surgeries performed by the finest experts apothecaries of the Chapter to restore the resemblance of how Jubik had looked like before entering that cursed room.

"Old...man...are...are you...still with us? Brother...brother..." Ogodei called out in a whisper

"I...didn't broke...my promise...I didn't tell him...shit..." The veteran made a massive effort to even modulate those words

"I know....I know..." Ogodei winced from the pain, hissing as he felt his sides burning

"They are....safe....my sunshine...and my little bird...." Jubik tried to smile, but even that caused him pain

"You already...have a nickname for them..." Ogodei smiled faintly

"I...protect my family....my brothers...and my love..."

The two Nomads laid there, in silence, until they fell unconscious; their bodies having endured more pain and suffering than the last ten campaigns combined. Ogodei thought, for a moment, what would had Hildegard thought if she had seen him in this state, what would've Ascilen do if the captain had spoken those words to him; he thought they were dying, their songs would end in such a shameful way; not undone by their enemies or by a worthy sacrifice, but slowly, in pain, on a medical wing that wasn't even of their Chapter.

Luckily for the Nomads, however, someone very dear to them was about to stop that from happening.

[y-rhywbeth2]

So I do plan on doing a deep dive into it myself, but you’re si good at finding lore tidbits that aren’t easily found in the obvious places online, so I figured I’d ask you about it?

But how tolerant is Waterdeep? Both in regards to evil gods like the dead three and drow?

Because I know VERY few places are willing to tolerate a full or half Drow just casually walking around in the open, and that BG is one of those “you can come in but not through the front door” towns but I wasn’t sure about Waterdeep

And I’m asking about the evil gods because during the tot, Myrkul, Bhaal, AND Loviatar were all hanging out in Waterdeep, and obviously had at least SOME followers there. (I wonder if the three of them ever got together for tea and gossip during the tot, probably grumbling about Bane getting them into this mess (Myrkul casually keeping it to himself for a little while at least that he’s EQUALLY to blame) and shaking their heads at Banes ongoing bullshit around the Dales)

Not exactly a deep dive on my end, but:

The Dead Three:

(Well we know Bhaal was presumably dodging child support to his collection of ten year olds at the time, since a lot of them should've been back in Baldur's Gate).

Are honoured and their worship is legal so long as it's kept discreet and within agreed upon boundaries, as ever. Waterdeep is the most tolerant city around.

Marpenoth 15 in Waterdeep is Gods' Day:

This holiday observes the anniversary of the end of the Godswar in 1358 DR, when the gods of Faerûn returned to the heavens. Private shrines are brought out into the open, and many people wear holy symbols of their favoured deities. [...] At night this holiday becomes solemn and serious [...] The Griffon Cavalry sets up an immense bonfire at the peak of Mount Waterdeep, honouring the fallen and the risen gods Myrkul, Cyric, Kelemvor, Mystra, Helm, and Ao who appeared here. - Waterdeep: Dragon's Heist

(As Myrkul also killed a lot of people it's also unofficial 'be nice to the guards and watch because a lot of them died back there.' He's still a god so he still gets put up with though.)

Evil deities are legal to worship, but should be kept discreet. Cyric, Shar and Malar are quietly worshipped here, so Bhaal absolutely isn't out of the picture and by extension neither is Bane, and they would apparently have backrooms and private basement rooms where they conduct their business and worship. We have heard from Ed Greenwood on the matter regarding a guy who had a question about a Banite PC in Waterdeep in his game:

'Bane expects [his priests] to publicly bear witness to his faith, so as to impress (or cow) others. Bane is the god of tyranny, remember? Yes, that can lead to problems. Which is why so many priests of evil deities cast spells indoors, at night, in cellars or other hidden places. If they don't want their activities to be traced to their homes, they often rent a room in a bad inn or upstairs room at a Dock Ward tavern, or even take a room at a good festhall, send the pleasure-lass out, bar the door behind her, and get to work. [Or in this specific case tie her to the bed and have her terrified for her life and safety, which pleases Bane as an offering on domination and fear].''

---

Drow:

It's not illegal to be a drow in Waterdeep. It's not necessarily a good idea to be a drow in Waterdeep, either. There is a small drow presence with the recent wave of Eilistraeean pilgrims/immigrants who were allowed in and able to build a grove-temple to their goddess in the North Ward thanks to Harper benefactors. Bregan D'aerthe has a front operating there, but these drow are in disguise as surfacers for their wellbeing/ease of movement rather than operating in the open.

Some more word of god on the topic:

Many Waterdhavians [upon encountering a drow] would scream and run to find the Watch; Watch officers might draw weapons and use them overhastily if the drow actively offered violence to anyone nearby, but Lords and senior courtiers and Guard officers will almost always try to maintain Waterdeep's "open trading" reputation

...drow are too much feared and hated to be openly welcome. Waterdeep is a human-dominated cosmopolitan trading city where coins rule and half the creatures of Faerûn rub shoulders; its tolerance is legendary and a foundation-stone of its mercantile success - - yet even in the City of Splendors, most folk react with either unease or open dislike to drow.

How it was historically (which flavours reception in the modern day:

In Waterdeep, circa 1372 DR, drow are NOT welcome in Waterdeep, and are likely to be detained (arrested or fought by the City Watch or the City Guard, and reported/fled from by other citizens, except perhaps adventurers or young nobles wanting adventure or members of the Watchful Order, who may well challenge them) on sight. This "general rule" is tempered with increasing hesitation at this time because of what THO alluded to in her earlier post: the increasingly-popular habit of some nobles and other wealthy Waterdhavians who can afford good disguises or appearance-altering magic, to "play at being drow" because of the spread of stories about the drow that make some see them as "alluring evil"="cool" bad guys. By 1372, there have been several well-publicized incidents of powerful noble lords being mistreated by the Watch or Guard due to being mistaken for drow, and of those lords complaining that they have every right to walk "their city" looking like whatever they choose to look like, and the onus is on public defenders and lawkeepers to make sure of their foes/targets before aggressively attacking anyone. Most REAL drow know all about how they'll be treated in any human-dominated (or elven, or dwarven, or gnome, or for that matter illithid) surface city, and don't visit such places without disguises that make them look like something else (human clergy of dark gods like Shar and Loviatar are favorite disguises). [...] Drow are similarly unwelcome in Neverwinter (though note the lack of a city wall and gates circa 1372 DR to stop most unwanted visitors except on the doorsteps of individual establishments), and in most parts of Baldur's Gate (though that city's cleanliness, order, and respect for law go downhill swiftly as it expands, in the late 1370s and thereafter). To reiterate: drow know this, and generally travel the surface world in disguise, sometimes among large groups of coster/caravan guards they serve in, making use of full-helm uniforms and cosmetics.

[onebadpunspoilsabunch]

The biggest issue that I have with g5 is all of the unanswered questions about what happened during the time frame between g4 and g5. The biggest ones are:

What happened to the alicorns? 

What happened to the other sapient creatures? Donkeys, mules, zebras, horses, cattle, sheep, buffalo/bison, deer/reindeer, hippos, yaks, griffons, hippogriffs/seaponies, dragons, Changelings, kirin, anthro cats, diamond dogs, anthro birds, etc etc.

How was Equestria able to function with the magic gone? And who's been raising the sun and moon this whole time if the magic has been gone? Is it someone outside Equestria?

They're never going to answer any of those questions.

The only reason why I watched MYM all the way through is because I was waiting for a proper explanation for all of the questions the movie didn't answer. I think the majority of us were under the impression that the TV show or comics would provide those answers.

Well... they didn't. And, let's face it, they probably never will. And if they do, the explanation will be bad.

The explanation they gave for the Unity Crystals and ponies dividing in the comics was... dumb.

The explanation they gave for the Unity Crystals and ponies dividing in the TV show was... dumb. And inconsistent.

Sunny in The Traditional Unicorn Sleepover:

Sunny Starscout: But then one day, a magical accident happened! An Earth pony got hurt by a unicorn! Everypony started fighting with each other! The princess, wanting to protect her kingdom and all of the ponies in it, decided to put all magic into three crystals before it got out of hoof. After that, Earth ponies only felt safe with other Earth ponies. Unicorns with unicorns. And Pegasi of a feather flock together. The ponies galloped, trotted, and flew as far as they could with their crystals, settling in what would become Zephyr Heights, Bridlewood, and Maretime Bay. And that's where they lived forever... until now.

Spike in the Isle of Scaley:

Spike: Twilight's reign was peaceful for many moons until Opaline Arcana appeared. She'd been banished from Skyros.

Sunny Starscout: The Alicorn land?

Spike: She wanted to rule all ponies. She thought that Alicorns were superior.

Spike: But my friends were strong. Our friendship had created such powerful magic that Opaline had to resort to dark ways to overthrow Equestria. She even attacked the dragons to transform into a Fire Alicorn!

Spike: The crystals were created to hide the magic of Equestria in them. All of pony magic. And all of dragon magic inside the Dragon Stone. Twilight sent us here to protect us and put a spell around Equestria to hide it from Opaline.

G5 is basically implying that Opaline was a much bigger threat than all of the other major villains the G4 characters had faced, which I don't believe for a second. Even after she powered herself up with the dragon's magic.

There's no implication that Opaline had mind controlled and used the dragons as an army back when she faced Twilight and her friends. Twilight and her friends could've just used their Element of Harmony powers to take away Opaline's magic, or turn her to stone, etc etc.

The series finale showed that they didn't need the physical elements or tree to access that magic...

So why didn't they use it on Opaline?

I think the moment where I started to become disappointed in G5 was when they released that TYT short showing the dragons before they were properly introduced in Chapter 6.

And when I saw how horribly they were designed, I just got angry.

And then I saw how they looked in the main show, and my disappointment grew...

And then I saw that Spike had the same horrible model as the other dragons (with minor changes) and I wanted to throw up XD

And then I finished Chapter 6 of MYM, and I realized that I had wasted my precious time on G5.

[nightingaletrash]

I love the Last Flight so much tho, the way it truly encapsulates the horror of the Blight. How a single day of dawdling was enough for Antiva's royals to doom their people. The soul-rending endlessness of it, and how even the biggest victories are only temporary unless they can get you to the Archdemon.

It also shows how, by this point, the Grey Wardens have come to be so respected that its detrimental. When they say that a Blight is here, they're listened to and people react accordingly, but Antiva's royals really believed that the Wardens could save their city - its why they sent for them, they believed they could turn the tide of the entire horde and were shocked when the Wardens said 'we can't save your city, the best we can do is help to evacuate you and your people before it's too late.' And then that belief keeps them from listening to the Wardens when they say that they can't perform a miracle. And it costs them everything.

Then there's Isseya's blood magic, and how the novel shows us that while she never used it for malignant purposes, there was a huge cost for her... but it wasn't entirely her fault. The first time her blood magic had a horrible cost - when her altered Joining practically destroyed a griffon's mind and filled him with hatred - she swore off of using the spell ever again. It's not until the First Warden orders her to do it over and over again does the magic take its toll by accelerating the Taint in her blood. And when her spell proves to have created a blight disease unique to griffons, the fault lies largely with the First Warden as he failed to enact quarantines and he kept using the griffons as messengers. If Isseya had had her way, Shrike would have been the only griffon to have been changed, but the pressure from Garahel and the First Warden and Lisme and everyone else that insisted that the joined griffons were a solution made it so that she couldn't say no.

There's just a lot going on in the Last Flight that really communicates things better than the games do without diving into codexes. Origins doesn't really show just how soul-grinding and all-consuming a Blight is supposed to be because this is the weird one that only lasted a year. DA2 only shows the consequences of blood magic via the reactions to it as opposed to the real consequences of the magic itself. And Inquisition's attempt to portray the Wardens as flawed and sometimes misguided comes off as dismissive of the order itself.

The Last Flight describes how the Blight changes the landscape as it spreads and shows our characters changing and ageing as it goes on, with the protagonists going from a couple of fresh-faced recruits to aged veterans over the span of a decade. We see a real, tangible consequence of blood magic beside the societal reactions to it. And we see the Wardens at their best and at their most flawed; from evacuating and saving as many people as they can from the Darkspawn, to recklessly forcing blood magic on their griffons and failing to enact proper quarantines when the first signs of the problem began to appear. Its such a damn good book and I love it so much 💜

[dell-amor-te]

“Of Blood, Bindings, & Burdens Halved”

Part 1 of 2.

Word Count: 4,672.

Warning(s): Canon-typical injuries, literal hurt/comfort, no beta but I try my best.

Pairing: F!Rook x Lucanis Dellamorte.

Summary: Healers make the worst patients. And ancient elven gods make for the worst to ask for straight answers from.

🐦‍⬛Read on ao3.

It gave Nöa great delight to know that she was the exact opposite of most magisters.

She wore every scar and flaw on her body with pride, badges of honor and survival only she could claim. Not to mention the bounty of tattoos she had accumulated over the years, each one to better channel her magic. While mages like Zara Renata spilled the blood of others to preserve their body as some untouchable monument to perfection, Nöa often spilled her own blood in order to ensure that she was able to survive to fight another day, to earn another scar.

Some would (and had) called her self-sacrificing.

She would (and had been known to) disagree with that sum.

Her mother’s clinic was where she could first remember seeing a wound tended. A deep cut that had been earned in a wood-chopping accident. Nothing her mother hadn’t seen and treated a hundred times before and another hundred times after. Nöa could even remember her mother laughing and saying she had seen much worse outcomes to similar accidents.

While her father was undoubtedly adept at using his magic for healing arts when forced into dire straits, and while his command of the dead fostered an extensive anatomical knowledge by nature of his practice, her mother was the undisputed expert.

Nöa had been too young to ever sit under her mother’s tutelage properly, but her mother’s incredibly detailed notes had been a constant advisor as Nöa trained herself. Her education on the subject was less than formal and often supplemented by her father’s lesson in using blood magic as a conduit for aiding in self-promoted healing, and yet Nöa would wager her command of her knowledge could rival any healer across Thedas. And that wasn’t just her pride talking.

Her skill served her very well, and often others, too.

But no amount of medical training would give her the flexibility to treat wounds outside of her range of motion. And despite her knowing this was the natural order of things, when Nöa felt the open wound on her back begin to bleed—profusely, she believed, if the amount of blood pooling down from her shoulder to her leg was indication—she chose to ignore it.

The only people she ever willingly put aside her ego to let treat an injury on her body were her father and Vellora.

Vellora was all the way in Arlathan. Even with the Eluvians, she wasn’t a viable option. Her father was, though. So long as the bleeding didn’t catch up to Nöa before they reached the Lighthouse. She just had to make it back to the Lighthouse, that’s what she kept telling herself.

And also outrun this pack of Ghilan’nain’s hunters. It would be fine. She just wouldn’t think about it.

She uttered a quick spell, reaching back as far as she could to access the spot, trying to play it off as loosening her shoulder. With how many monsters had met their end with her dagger today, it wouldn’t alert any of her companions to its true intent.

Now to hope what little magic she had left would hold things together until they made it back.

“Let’s pick up the pace.” Lucanis said. “Hopefully we can confuse them if we split up once we read the woods. Davrin, Bellara, once we reach the fork, why don’t you split off to the east path. Barring confusion, we can at least even out the odds in smaller groups.”

“Good idea.” Davrin nodded. “Assan, scout ahead, boy. Make sure the path is clear.”

The griffon squawked, ever eager to please.

It was supposed to be some simple scouting out in the Crossroads. No big fuss. Scout some of the paths, clean up any potential Darkspawn hordes. Nothing Nöa, Bellara, Davrin, and Lucanis couldn’t handle. Especially with Assan around.

What they hadn’t accounted for was Ghilan’nain apparently being hit was a stroke of inspiration.

These new beasts of hers, whatever they were, were some of her most grotesque yet.

Nöa made sure she matched her pace to Davrin’s as their group headed for a fast-approaching treeline. They were all frighteningly familiar with the Crossroads at this point, but they still had to keep their wits about them as they traversed its winding paths.

Nöa tried not to ignore the sound of the blood puddling in her boot, how it squelched with each pounding footstep.

Dear Mythal, her sock was soaking wet.

Was it that or her rapidly dropping blood pressure that was making her feel so nauseous?

“Shock troopers!” Davrin shouted.

“They’re gaining ground!” Bellara grunted, shooting back an arrow to take one down that was keeping stride with them along a nearby outcropping of rocks.

Only one thing to do, then.

“Follow my lead!” Nöa issued in quick order.

The group obeyed, following her off the path. As soon as they were all clear, Nöa turned, taking a stand in front of her companions. She pulled her staff from her back, nearly cursing her own body at the shock of pain—and then there was nothing, numbness, that spread through her fingers—as she lifted it in front of her.

She ignored it all, focusing solely on her command the Fade, bending it into twisting shapes, using her conduit as kindling, and then—

A wall of fire erupted along the path, reaching hungrily upward toward the Fade-formed sky.

She laughed, despite herself. “That should buy us some time.” The elf managed, panting.

The small victory was short-lived.

“Hey, Nöa…are you bleeding?” Bellara asked warily.

Nöa looked down at the earth beneath her feet numbly. Sure enough, there was a puddle of blood soaking the ground.

Her blood.

“Nöa?” Bellara put a hand on her fellow Veil Jumper’s shoulder carefully.

“Oh, I’m fine.” Nöa said brusquely.

She couldn’t bring herself to lift her staff back behind her to its holster. She didn’t want to let go of it, frankly, unsure her knees would hold her.

“Come on, we’re almost to the fork—”

It was Davrin’s hand that kept Nöa face from meeting the dirt personally.

“Fine, huh?” The Warden raised a dubious eyebrow.

“I’ve had better days.” She relented, locking gazes with him. “It’s my back. Near my right shoulder.”

“May I?” Davrin asked.

“Be my guest.”

“I’ve got her.” Lucanis said, taking Davrin’s place to support Nöa.

Carefully, Davrin moved aside the black cloak that had effectively concealed her present state from the group. The blood had drenched through her white tunic, spreading across the entirety of her back already, the fabric holding fast to her skin. It painted enough of a picture that Davrin didn’t so much as move to adjust her tunic’s neckline to see better.

“Nöa.” Davrin chided. “You should have said something.”

“Look, it’ll be fine until we get back. Speaking of: can we go now?”

“How long did you let this go?” Bellara questioned, fretting.

“I have no idea when it happened.”

“Fine. Then when did you notice it, Panöwen?” Lucanis asked pointedly.

With him still holding her up, there was little Nöa could do to avoid the Crow’s knowing gaze.

“Before we even reached the peak, maybe.” Her breathing quickened as she felt her body begin to work harder to keep her on her feet. “It’s fine, really.” She assured them all. “Once we get back, my father will see to it. I’ll be good as new.”

Lucanis scoffed. “It’s not fine. You’re as pale as paper. We have to at least stop the bleeding now.” He told her. “Come on, we need to get you off your feet.”

“Is this payback for carrying you like a potato sack last week?”

“No. This is so we don’t leave a trail of your blood for those beasts to follow. Here.”

Any shred of the normal sense of camaraderie between the two of them was gone—enough so that it made Nöa comply and Davrin and Bellara wary. While they all knew Lucanis was poised and often the man of fewest words among their group, Nöa tended to loosen him up a bit; a change they were all growing far too accustomed to.

His tone now, the way he was able to take command, reminded them all why the First Talon had favored him as her heir.

Nöa felt her feet leave the ground, but not much else after that. She was able to get her left arm around Lucanis’ neck, leaving her to rest her chin against his shoulder. Lucanis reached down to pick up her sunburst of a staff, holding her securely with one hand.

“You two, meet up with Assan and get back to the Lighthouse. Stick to the plan. We split up. Once this wound’s been dressed, we’ll follow.” Lucanis said.

“What if those things come back? We don’t know what they are, let alone—” Davrin began.

“The fire will hold.” Nöa interjected, ironically lacking some of her usual fire. “It’ll feed on the Fade’s magic, too, which should also keep it from spreading anywhere it shouldn’t. They’ll burn before they can follow.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Bellara couldn’t help but ask.

“It’ll be fine. Go.” Lucanis ordered, and neither elf disobeyed.

“Just please be careful.” Bellara pleaded, still hesitant.

“I think we’re already past that.” Lucanis said.

“Come on.” Davrin ushered her on.

Bellara sighed, but did as they had been told.

Nöa closed her eyes, feeling fatigued and safe in Lucanis’ arms at once. She didn’t play the damsel well, but right now she felt too off-kilter to argue or really care. But Lucanis was quiet, and that did bother her.

It wasn’t his normal quiet. This was a frustrated silence.

He didn’t say a word as he searched for a place they could shelter while he saw to her injury. He found it, eventually. A clearing far off the main path located after a cautious zig-zagging, just to be safe. He carefully got Nöa situated against a large, moss-dressed stone.

“Alright.” Lucanis sighed, not wasting a moment. “Let’s have a look.”

“You don’t have to. Really.” She half-slurred. “As long as you can help me work a little bit of blood ma—”

“You can’t afford to lose any more blood.” He said sharply. “Besides, your magic is clearly spent. That wall of fire wore you out—your hands are shaking.” He nodded knowingly.

Nöa didn’t have a good rebuttal or a clever word to counter his assessment. Her silence did nothing to set Lucanis’ nerves at ease. She always had a comeback.

“Let me take care of you.” He insisted, his tone softer, lower, but every bit as adamant. “Please.”

“Okay.” A beat of hesitation. “Here. My dagger.” When he looked at her, at a loss, Nöa elaborated. “Open the hilt. There’s herbs inside that can be used to pack a wound and stave off infection.” She grimaced, shifting slightly so he could reach her belt easier. “I think the hit agitated the nerves. I can barely feel, let alone move that shoulder. You’ll have to grab it off my belt. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He said, already moving to do just that.

“I can lean forward.” And she managed to do so. Just barely. “You’ll have to get the rest of my gear off, too, I’m afraid. If you cut off that side of my tunic, you should have plenty of access to the area.”

She hated this feeling. This uselessness.

“Right.”

To his credit, he didn’t blush or hesitate. Nöa half-expected him to. And maybe that was unfair of her.

Once he had her dagger from her belt, Lucanis moved again, creating a slit in the hem that ran down her right side before carefully removing the once-white tunic, leaving her upper body exposed to the open air.

“I think I’m more upset about the tunic than the nerves.” Nöa admitted.

“You can’t sew?”

“Skin? Sure. Fabric…not so much.”

Lucanis’ lips twitched. “I cut along the hem. Maybe Nova or Harding can mend it.” He suggested. “Assuming all this blood washes out.”

Nöa sighed. The cool air felt good against her sweating skin. It was probably a shock response—her skin raising its temperature to combat how cool her internal temperature was without proper blood supply.

Lucanis knelt down behind her in a fluid motion, finally able to assess the wound properly. It was deep and jagged, no doubt a lucky, blind stab made as they fled from that first onslaught. Her lacking range of motion was likely owed to a muscle tear.

Nothing Lucanis could mend now, but Emmrich would be more than capable of tending so long as Lucanis stopped the bleeding now.

“Maker, Nöa.” He muttered under his breath.

“Is it that bad?”

“It’s not…great.” He relented at last. “It will definitely scar.”

“What’s one more?” She laughed lamely. “I have a needle and some thread in my bag. I assumed it hit an artery or a vessel.”

“Artery.” Lucanis told her. “Looks like the subclavian to me.” His brow twitched. “Did you hit this with some magic?”

“A little. Before the fire wall. Just to be safe.”

“Stubborn woman.” He grimaced. “It’s partially sealed, anyway. Though the hold is weak.”

“And still exposed, since you can see it.”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

It was far from ideal.

“Lovely.” Nöa exhaled, trying to slow her heart rate. “You know, this would be a nice place to be buried.”

“Hush.”

“You’ve got the rock for my grave marker and everything.”

“Hush.” Lucanis chided more insistently. “And hold still.”

“Yes, ser.” Nöa groused.

“I don’t think this should be stitched.” Lucanis decided after a thorough assessment. “Not yet, anyway. It needs to be packed to staunch the bleeding, but we’ll just be starting the cycle over again when we get back if we close it now. That artery is going to need more than just field care.”

“Whatever these new pets of hers are, you must admit they have good aim.” Nöa mused.

“Here, let’s get you turned over.” Lucanis didn’t feel like ceding that point when it was her blood proving it. “This forward gravity can’t be comfortable.”

“Nothing’s comfortable right now.” She shot back wryly, though she helped him reposition her as best as she could.

Which was fairly well, Lucanis noted.

Once he had her reclined against the stone, Lucanis got to work packing the wound with the herbs from her dagger.

She kept an impressive little apothecary hidden within her dagger’s hilt-compartment. It had to be an expensive upkeep. They were high-quality herbs, and fresh, too. Either she went through a lot of them, which wouldn’t surprise him, or she rotated them out when they began to wilt.

Which also wouldn’t surprise him.

“Make sure you keep the packing even.” Nöa said quickly.

“Healers make terrible patients.” Lucanis muttered under his breath.

“I know.” He could practically hear her roll her eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I much prefer to do the dressing than being dressed.”

“I know.”

He worked in silence after that. The bleeding didn’t stop, not completely. But it would buy them time until he could get her back to the Lighthouse.

He just hoped it was enough.

Lucanis used her sliced tunic as a makeshift dressing, the soft linen sleeves working to tie everything off properly. They decided to bind her arm to her chest in order to keep strain off of her muscles by leaving her arm hanging down at her side.

Once he was satisfied, Lucanis nodded.

“All done?” Nöa questioned.

“All done. We’ll move once everything settles.” He decided, sitting across from her so he could assess her properly.

She was pale, flushed. He could see a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her hands were still shaking, worse now than before. There was no sign of poisoning in the wound, but he couldn’t rule it out just from sight alone. The blade had left her shoulder wide opened, fileted. The packing would hopefully help draw out any potential poison in the meantime, along with warding off infection.

He noticed when she began flexing her fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Lucanis asked, scooting closer, taking her hand.

Nöa laughed tiredly. “The nerves. There’s a few herbs in that mix that’ll help the agitation, but they numb everything up first. Just making sure my hand’s still attached, is all.

Lucanis’ thumb stroked her trembling knuckles. If Nöa hadn’t looked down, she wouldn’t have even known he was doing it.

“Are you familiar with nerve damage?” The Crow asked.

“More so than I wish I could say.” She bared her teeth for a moment, wincing, but made no sound, trying to make herself comfortable while she talked to him. “When I lost my eye, the impact also shocked the nerves on that side of my body. Through my face, down that arm. It probably got close to my spine, but not enough to do damage there. We weren’t sure they’d ever come back. It took a year before I could use that side of my face again. Another six months before I could move my arm enough to rehab it.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“What can I say? I like a little bit of mystery.”

He needed to keep her awake. The best way to do that was to keep her talking. Knowing her stubbornness, she would understand his intent in spite of the bloodless delirium she was steadily slipping into.

Speaking of Spite—Lucanis was grateful the demon had chosen to remain quiet, though he couldn’t fathom why. He didn’t have the time to consider it, either.

“I’m going to make sure the packing took now.”

“Okay.”

She said it so quietly that Lucanis wondered if he imagined her saying it altogether.

He returned to his place behind her, kneeling down once more. The bleeding was slower, though it still moved far too quickly for his comfort. He sighed, his eyes catching on her scar and ink-covered back.

“Will you tell me about some of them?” Lucanis asked.

“Which ones?”

“How about this one—base of your neck?” He traced a finger along it, even if she couldn’t feel it.

The skin was puckered, raised, but it was covered up by the vine-like ink of her tattoos.

“That was a boring one.” Nöa almost laughed. “I was…fourteen? Nova and I were sorting through our mother’s textbooks, and he accidentally dropped one on me. I had my head in a book, with my neck bent, and he was up on the roving-ladder, and the corner of the leather got me just right. It probably wouldn’t have scarred had I had baba take care of it, but it didn’t bother me and I didn’t want him to freak out, so I let it heal on its own. You can see how well that went.”

Lucanis could almost imagine the scene.

“There should be one, down toward the right side, just above my hip.”

“I see it.”

“Varghast bite.” She said.

“Really?”

She recounted the story as much as her foggy mind and slurring words would allow. She giggled more than she ruminated, truth be told.

There were so many scars littered across her skin. Lucanis didn’t know how she kept count of them all. He certainly couldn’t remember where most of his had come from anymore.

He frowned.

He had never had a reason to see her undressed, but he never could have imagined how extensive both her scars and her body ink were. It was little wonder she had such a high pain tolerance. Her lived experience could rival Caterina’s training.

“I didn’t realize…” Lucanis trailed off.

“We all have our scars. I’m not special.” She said feebly. “Luc?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t feel so good.”

“It’s okay.” Lucanis soothed her. “Rest.”

With the blood flow impeded for now, there was little harm in letting her close her eyes. It could help, even. Keep her body from overworking itself. Spare her from feeling some of the pain, if she was feeling any of it at all anymore.

Before long, she was almost entirely unconscious, and then she was back in his arms, his own cloak settled over her in the place of her blood-soaked one. His footfall was easy, mindful of his gait so he didn’t jostle her or upset the wound. He tried to keep up the pace.

She needed Emmrich, more so than he hoped she knew.

“Mh…” Nöa’s head lulled back against his chest. The rush of his heartbeat, elevated by anxiety, soothed her, bringing only one thought to mind.

Beat. Vhenan. Beat. Vhenan. Beat. Vhenan.

It was his heart she was hearing, not her own.

And yet…

“Ma vhenan.” She barely managed, head cradled against Lucanis’ shoulder.

“Nöa?” His voice was so far away now.

She drifted off, unaware of anything but the warmth of him surrounding her.

Hello, Nöa.

A voice, so much like Lucanis’…but not quite right….greeted her.

I’ve been dying to talk to you. Shame we had to wait until you were dying to have the chance.

…

“Here.”

Lucanis barely registered the mug of hot coffee directly under his nose. It wasn’t until he processed the feeling of the steam hitting his chin that he looked up. His eyes moved, though no other part of him did, wandering up to the face of the person handing him the drink.

Nova smiled tiredly.

“Thank you.” Lucanis supplied, finally accepting the drink.

He didn’t move to actually sample it.

Nova heaved a sigh, resting his back against the windowsill where Lucanis had sat himself hours ago. The Crow hadn’t moved since, except when Emmrich needed someone to hand him something. Half the time Manfred beat him to it, anyway.

The elf hummed, finishing his assessment of the man before nursing his own cup of coffee.

At last, Emmrich seemed to finish his work. He didn’t move from Nöa’s side, but he stood up straight, rather than hunched over as he had been through the hours.

“Well?” Nova prompted his father.

Emmrich didn’t turn to face the two younger men, instead remaining fixed in place by Nöa’s side. He let go of a pent up breath, the sound haggard and drawn.

“I know Crows are trained to tend wounds should they be injured in the field, but I didn’t expect this caliber of care.” The mage admitted, half-lauding Lucanis’ handiwork.

“She handled the worst of it with a spell before she even told us she’d been hurt.” Lucanis corrected himself. “Well, not told us. She didn’t tell us.”

She didn’t tell us. She didn’t tell us. She didn’t tell me.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Lucanis.” Emmrich said quietly, turning halfway to face them. “She’d be in a much worse state if it weren’t for you.” He looked to Lucanis again. “Thank you.”

“She’ll recover?” Nova asked, anxious.

“Nerves and all, I believe.” Emmrich nodded tiredly toward his son.

Nova patted Lucanis’ knee, relief practically flooding the two men.

“That’s all the thanks I need.” Lucanis said soberly, his gaze fixed on the now peacefully sleeping Veil Jumper in front of him.

Emmrich’s thumb stroked his daughter’s forehead for a moment as he looked down at him once more, his mind still working a million paces a minute. He pressed a kiss to the center of her vallaslin, his lips drawn into a thin line.

“You’re going to be alright.” He barely whispered, offering comfort to the sleeping elf.

Lucanis did his best to ignore the way he yearned to do the same. How he wanted to hold her—her hand, her whole being, or just his lips to her brow. Anything to assure his very being that she was going to be fine.

“You should get some rest.” Emmrich advised Lucanis. “You all had a hard enough day before this. Davrin and Bellara got their rest, I would say you’ve more than earned yours now.”

“No. I’m fine.” Lucanis shook his head, stiff. “Illario was dealt a similar wound, once. I treated that one, too. He needed monitoring overnight.”

“I can see to that.” Nova said.

“Allow me. Please.” Lucanis insisted. “I won’t sleep, anyway. Not unless I know.”

Emmrich smiled knowingly at his son before nodding his assent to Lucanis’ request. “Very well. But come get me if she takes a turn…” He put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, commanding his attention. “Or if you get tired.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Good man.”

“You can come get me, too.” Nova offered, his sister’s ruined tunic tucked in his arms. “She’s my sister.”

“I know.” Lucanis assured. “I won’t take my eyes off her.”

“I suppose I should go let everyone know she’s alright.” Nova decided, sparing one last looking toward her sister. “I didn’t know she could be so quiet.”

Though he was hesitant, Emmrich took his leave with Manfred and Nova both in tow. The skeleton waved at Lucanis as they departed. Lucanis waved back lamely, but it satisfied Manfred.

Alone, Lucanis finally felt himself let go of a breath he had been holding since he laid eyes on the threatening wound on Nöa’s back.

His boots hit the floor of the infirmary—Nöa’s infirmary—without a sound. He crossed the floor, standing where Emmrich had stood for so long.

Manfred had cleaned up while Emmrich worked. Everything seemed so sterile now. Not a drop of blood, and Emmrich had declared long ago that the bleeding had all but stopped entirely. The dressing would need checked overnight for drainage, both as of now, she was sound.

Lucanis pressed his forehead to Nöa’s.

She was nowhere near as clammy as she had been in his arms on their return to the Lighthouse. Her breathing wasn’t erratic. Most of her coloration was back.

If Lucanis didn’t know better, he would have thought Emmrich was a miracle worker.

It promised to be a long night. Though he was hesitant to do so, Lucanis moved away from the exam table turned temporary cot in order to grab a stool from beside Nöa’s desk in the corner of the room. He carried it over to her side before making himself comfortable.

He took her hand in his, watching her as she slept. Wondering.

Vhenan. Ma vhenan.

What did that mean?

He didn’t want to think about it too much. She had been more than half out of her mind at that point, after all. It sounded too distinctive, too elven, to have been mad ramblings or slurring of words. And yet Lucanis couldn’t parcel out what it meant.

And he couldn’t get it out of his mind.

“Solas?”

He had no idea if the ancient elf would answer him.

When the infirmary remained silent and the air remained still, Lucanis gave up any thought of receiving an answer. He wasn’t even sure if he could speak to Solas the way Nöa did. True, they had all seen Solas’ memories from time to time, but did that require the same connection, or something more.

She gave you quite the fright, didn’t she?

Lucanis lifted his head. “You answered.”

You asked for me, did you not?

Lucanis nodded. “She said something. Earlier. I thought you might know what it meant.”

She says a lot of things, Master Dellamorte. To what exactly are you referring?

“It sounded like ma vhenan.” Lucanis said to the empty air. “I think that’s what it was. What does that mean? I assume it’s elven.”

A lengthy pause, so long Lucanis almost thought Solas had elected not to answer, ensured.

It is.

“Which means you understood her.”

I…did.

When the Dreadwolf offered no further explanation, Lucanis worked his jaw.

“So what does it mean?” He asked a little more firmly.

Perhaps it would be better to hear that from her mouth, rather than mine. There is a translation guide in my study, if you can find it.

Lucanis frowned, but decided not to question it. For tonight, he would focus on Nöa. Everything else could come later.

[grim40]

{Next Gen}~ Monster?- Part 1

Ben sighed as he sat down in his seat. It was morning, and school hadn't started yet. He could hear the kids outside in the playground but didn't bother to turn around and look. He felt lonely. His only friend, Bitter Bite, was scheduled for Tuesday class and could only see him until Thursday. Even if class hadn't started yet, he wished he could go home now. 

As fillies, foals, and other creatures started filling the classroom, he sat up straight. Ever since the School of Friendship had been inaugurated, many families had come to live on Ponyville. Yaks, griffons, hippogriffs, even some zebras, had now filled the homes of the town. And with it, the school with many children. Mom had been adamant he could stay at home and learn from his father, but giving school a chance, they had enrolled him in Missus Cheerilees school. They told him school would be fun with activities, a playground, and he could make friends. He had done all those things, except the last one. 

Ben listened to Cheerilee's lecture, the four seasons, their types of weather, how each creature is affected by them. All of a sudden he felt something hit his temple. A small piece of balled up paper landed on his desk. He heard quiet giggles behind him by his right side. He knew it were those kids again. Ever since school began, they had been pestering him all the time. Never too harsh, but just things like this. Little balls of paper, a playground ball "accidentaly" going his way, things he thought were normal. At least that's what his mom told him. He took a small glance, and there she was. Agatha, the supposed leader of the group. She raised her arms in a shug motion, motioning as a silly mistake and giggling. He gave a small but weary smile, trying not to think too much about it. He couldn't concentrate on the lecture anymore, so he just stared ahead and hoped lunch would start soon. 

~

Lunch break had started, and Ben unpacked his small lunch box Dad had packed for him. A couple of apple slices, some oat meal biscuits and a box of apple juice. As he snacked away his lunch, he stared at the playground where the kids ran around, played in the swing-sets and jump ropes. He looked away, again feeling lonely. He wasn't really sure why the other kids didn't like him. From day one, he struggled to make a friend. He wasn't mean, he hadn't done anything weird that he was aware of. When pair projects came up in class, the kids would ignore him. He would otherwise be paired with another foal or filly, they were decent to him throughout the class time, but after it was done he was back to being alone. His ears drooped down, and he laid in the grass for a bit.

He could entertain himself. His father had teached him a magic spell recently, to invoke his own chaos magic. He told Ben that when Draconquui were still around, everyone had their own different magic. Channeling it was a difficult task, so they would need to start young and practice with it. Ben concentrated on the pads of his paws, a spark, then a flare of magic started to form. It was already fairly easy for him, he had practiced so many times. The hard part, was keeping the magic stable. But it was coming along well. 

WACK

"Hahahaha sorry, we did not totally see you the- AHHHH!" Agatha screached.

"AHH-" Ben, literally, had been knocked out of his concentration. The magic he had been so carefully holding, burst. 

The kids backed up screaming. The magic had blown some of them back and had temporarily blinded those nearest. Ben breathed rapidly while he held his head. He hadn't meant for that to happen, so he quickly stood up and approached the kids.

"I-I'm so sorry! I just got scared, are you alright?" As he extended a paw towards Agatha, she swatted it away.

"Get back you weirdo! You were trying to eat us! I knew you were evil! That's why no one wants to hang out with you, you monster!"

Ben looked shocked. "I-, I wasn't..."

Hearing the commotion and kids coming to her telling her what happened, Miss Cheerilee came running to their aid. 

"What happened?! Are you guys alright?!"

"Miss he tried to hurt us! We didn't do anything! He just tried to eat and blow us all up Miss! Please get rid of the monster!" Children surrounded Cheerilee, and while she tried to hear everyone out, she saw Ben stiff as a statue. 

She made her way over to where Ben was standing.  "What happened Ben? Did you use magic during school hours? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"Miss I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt anybody. I just got scared and-"

"You just tried to hurt us, don't lie you weirdo!" Agatha screamed in his face, pointing one of her fingers at him. "Yeah, Agatha just walked over to him and he turned around with a magic ball and shoot it straight towards us!" "Were scared, please take him away!"

The children again started rambling on, not allowing Cheerilee or Ben get a word in. Ben wasn't confrontational, so he just stayed quiet. 

"Nu-uh, that's not what happened!"

Ben recognized the voice. It was Bitter Bites twin sister.

"Sugary Bite what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be in school." Cheerilee addressed Sugary. 

"I saw what happened, they are lying! I came here with mommy for Bitter Bite's homework because he forgot it. They threw a ball at Ben, I saw it!" 

"I didn't throw it!" Agatha exclaimed.

"I didn't say it was you!" Sugary retorted back. 

With that Agatha closed her beak and stayed quiet. 

"All right all right, we will talk about this after school. Please Sugary go back to your mom. Kids it's time to go inside, c'mon."

Kids started to head insde the school, and as Ben started to walk Cheerilee stopped him. 

"We will talk about what happened when your dad comes over, alright? And please, no magic use today, okay?"

She didn't sound angry, though her soothing voice masked a tinge of worry. Ben just shook his head slowly up and down, agreeing. 

As he sat in his desk, the whispering children went quiet. Cheerilee began her lecture, but this time Ben didn't bother to pay attention. 

~

The school bell rang, and kids gathered outside to meet their parents to go home, with the exception of two. They were still seated in their desks, no words exchanged. Ben felt panicked, like a knot in his stomach had formed and it was just gurgling around. What would his dad say if he knew he was doing magic in school? Would be be mad? He would probably be grounded for ever and be banned from doing magic again. Ben didn't bother looking in Agatha's direction, though he felt eyes on the back of his head. 

"Hello Mrs. Helen, hello Mr Discord, would you please come inside? There was an incident today regarding Agatha and Ben during lunch time."

"Did something happen to Agatha?!"

"What happened to my boy?! Is he okay?!"

At the mention of an incident, both parents asked Cheerilee in a panic. 

"No they aren't hurt, just if you please could come in."

Discord and Helen, Agatha's mother, came in. Agatha quickly ran towards her mother and began pleading with her.

"I didn't do it mom! It was an accident!"

Discord approached Ben who was still sitting and his desk and picking him up to his eye level.

"Are you alright? Did anyone hurt you?"

Ben shook his head at his dad's question, but still didn't speak. 

"Miss Cheerilee, you were looking for us?" Pinkie Pie came in the door, along with Sugary Bite and Bitter Bite. 

"Thank you all for coming. I know its a hassle to be here after school but I know that you guys want to know what happened today. From what I was told, Ben was caught doing magic during school hours without supervision of an adult or unicorn teacher."

"Is that true?" Discord let Ben down gently, and Ben looking down, saying a small audible yes.

"As we have discussed previously during the days prior of school, magic practice is forbidden during school hours without supervision, correct Discord?"

"Ah-, y-yes I know."

"I know you might be teaching Ben magic, but also teaching him the where and when he should be practicing it is a lesson every teacher has to put in place. Right?"

"R-right. I'm very sorry for the incident, whatever it was. I did fail Benny in teaching him to refrain from using magic here at school."

At this, Ben felt guilty, like he was at fault his dad was being scolded for his mistake.

"Although, I was told something else before the incident happened. And, I know Sugary Bite was a witness to all this."

"But how is my daughter related to this?"

"Go on Sugary." Cheerilee told her.

"I saw Ben by the bushes of the playground, but I also saw Agatha and her friends playing ball. But then I saw them throw the ball at Ben. Then his magic went BOOM!"

"Sugary is certain Agatha was the one who threw the ball."

"Did you Agatha?" Helen asked her daughter.

Agatha stayed quiet, and her eyes averting her mother's gaze.

"She is lying. Ben just wanted to hurt us for playing, and when I went to go say sorry he tried to hurt me." Agatha still averting her gaze.

"No you weren't, you were laughing with every pony." Sugary added.

"He also annoys me during class. He just stares at us without saying anything."

"Well you must have done something to him." 

"I do not!"

Sugary and Agatha bickered back and forth, while Ben just looked at them.

"Did she do anything else to you today?" Discord whipered to Ben. 

Then, Ben remembered, the piece of paper that tapped his head. It was Agatha who threw the piece of paper, and the ball. 

"She-" Everyone went quiet when they heard him talk. "She threw a piece of paper at me today. During class."

"HAH! What did I tell you, you DID do something!" Sugary mocked Agatha. "Sugary c'mere." Pinkie said while grabbing and dragging her towards her by her tail.

"Well Agatha, did you?" Cheerilee asked, sternly this time.

Agatha stayed quiet, swallowing saliva and lowering her head. 

"He's a monster."

"Agatha!" Helen yelled angrily at her daughter. 

"He doesn't belong here. He scares all of us!"

"All right all right, quiet down. *Sigh* Discord, Ben, you guys can leave for today. I'll talk with Miss Helen about Agatha's detention."

"Thank you Miss Cheerilee, c'mon kiddo. Let's go home." Discord picked Ben up and carried him on his back. 

"You can also leave Pinkie, and before I forget. Here is your homework Bitter."

"..." "He says thank you!" Sugary answered for her brother, while Bitter only nodded. 

Pinkie, Discord, and along with the kids, they left the school. 

~

Pinkie and the kids had parted ways, not before telling Ben they would see him later that week at school.  Ben only held tightly to his dad's neck, holding onto him like a koala. 

"You okay there kiddo, you are holding on a little roughly?"

There was a pause, and then heard a sniffle. 

"Benny, what's wrong?" As he grabbed his son and turned him around, Ben had tears running down his cheeks. Discord stopped walking and just held Ben in the air.

"Dad, am I a monster?" As he said it, Ben started to bawl. More tears came, and his sobbing got louder. 

His heart broke when he heard it. He only hugged his son, rubbing his hair. Discord carried on walking holding him in his arms. 

-

First time I post my Next Gen story here.

To give out context on characters-

-Ben (Benjamin Shy), son of Discord and Flutter Shy

-Sugary Bite and Bitter Bite, Pinkie's and Sky Star's kids

-Agatha, new character of mine, daughter of Helen

I'll later post their refs here~

[starlightcleric]

Autumn With a Witch - Chapter 2 - Rain

Fandom: Sun Haven

Relationships: Catherine/Farmer

Other: Fluff, established relationship

With the town of Sun Haven saved, Calliope can turn to enjoying the start of autumn with her wonderful wife, Catherine.

Also on AO3

-

Calliope awoke to the soft sound of rain pattering on the window and to the warm breath of her wife on her neck. And Catherine’s hair in her mouth. Catherine’s rabbit ears were folded back across her head as she slept, but her voluminous, purple hair spread everywhere.

Calliope used her free hand that wasn’t pinned down by her wife cuddling into her to remove the affronting hair from her mouth and rub her eyes. With the rain today, she wouldn’t need to water the crops by hand (or, well, rain cloud spell). She still needed to check in on the animals, make sure they had enough food, but she could afford to spend a bit longer in bed.

“Mreowf.” A soft lump launched itself onto Calliope’s stomach and started making biscuits.

Or maybe the inside pets still wanted breakfast on schedule.

The little, black witch cat stared Calliope in the face intently as it let out another large meow.

“Mmmmmhm.” Catherin stirred, her ears starting to perk up.

Calliope kissed her on the forehead as she detangled herself to get up. “You can go back to sleep, love. It’s a lazy, rainy day.”

Catherine slowly opened one eye. “Then why are you getting up?”

The black cat bumped into Calliope’s back as she finagled to put on socks. “Someone still wants breakfast. Which means I should check on all the animals–here and in Nel’Vari. Oh!” She stood up straight and gave the cat a scratch on the back. “If I’m headed to Nel’Vari, and it’s raining, I should hunt for water runes!”

Catherine sat up and stretched. “I don’t know what my day looks like. I should stop by the store, check in, but Lucia and I won’t have our lunch outside in this weather.”

Calliope laced up her boots. “Then why don’t you come with me? It’s past time you’ve seen the farm in Nel’Vari. I think you would find the amount of magic just in the world there absolutely fascinating. There are plants I can only grow there, potions I can only make there—”

“Hmmm.” Catherine surged forward to kiss Calliope on the nose. “Well, I can’t have my wife out-witching me, now can I?”

“I could never. You’re Sun Haven’s best witch.” Calliope kissed her back.

The black cat made its presence known again by thrusting its head into her stomach.

Calliope pulled away from Catherine and laughed. “Alright, alright. I’m getting breakfast now.”

The cat trailed her all the way to the kitchen with excited mews, only stopping to stuff its face when Calliope placed its bowl on the floor.

Calliope stopped for a moment to stare out the kitchen window. The rain trailed down the window pane in lazy patterns, and farther out dripped down from the trees into little puddles. She normally took the griffon straight to the Nel’Vari farm, but she didn’t think he could carry both her and Catherine. Flying in this weather also sounded miserable. Well, a nice walk it was, then. They could forage in the woods together.

As she prepared her and Catherine’s morning carrot juice, the cat had finished its breakfast and was now meowing and scratching at the front door. “I don’t think you want to go out there, buddy.”

“MREOWW.” Scratch scratch scratch.

“Okay, fine.” Calliope opened the door for the cat.

It took one look outside at the rain, sniffed, then turned around and headed back toward the bedroom.

“That’s what I thought.” Calliope finished pouring the carrot juice just as Catherine walked into the kitchen, dressed warmly and carrying a waterproof cloak.

-

The journey was not unfamiliar. Catherine had grown up exploring the wilds of Sun Haven for herbs, and Calliope had made many an expedition to Nel’Vari. So they knew how to skirt the edges to avoid the beasts of the wild, though many were hidden, sheltering from the rain. The fresh smell of wet dirt filled her nostrils while the dirt itself caked their fingertips as they collected mushrooms.

Unfortunately she couldn’t walk too closely to Catherine, since the rain would run off the brim of Catherine’s hat right to the top of Calliope’s head. So she danced in circles around her, darting to and fro as Catherine proceeded languidly through the forest like a nymph.

As they approached the bridge that marked the transition to the elven forest, Calliope heard Catherine catch her breath.

“I’ve never been this deep before,” Catherine said. “It’s beautiful. And what are those?” she pointed at the colorful stones peaking up out of the earth.

“The magical runes! Like how Sun Haven gets elemental crystals around in places? Nel’Vari gets these elemental runes. I can use them in crafting stuff. Here, we’ll pick them up and I’ll show you when we get to the farm.”

They proceeded farther into the forest towards Nel’Vari, eventually reaching the elven town itself. Most of the residents were holed up inside on this rainy day, but they still attracted some stares. Not that Nel’Vari didn’t have its own population of amari, but the residents were tight knit. Outsiders were rare.

Spotting Wesley at the bulletin board, Calliope hurried Catherine along. She didn’t feel like receiving a lecture at the moment. 

Catherine still lingered to gawk at the great tree in the distance. “The trees here, I can feel their connection to the earth. There’s so much life here.” She held out her palm to catch some falling raindrops. “It’s in the earth, in the water, in the air.”

“I think you and Iris could have some interesting conversations once she stopped being terrified of you, but I really do need to check up on the animals.”

“Alright, alright. But later.” Catherine let Calliope pull her by the hand down the road towards the farm.

The raindrops played a soft melody over the many pools of the Nel’Vari farm as Calliope and Catherine approached. “Can you check on the crops while I tend to the animals?” Calliope asked.

“Oh I am itching to dig my fingers around some new magical plants,” Catherine laughed. “You don’t even have to ask.”

As Calliope fed the animals (giving the baby griffon extra scritches), her gaze kept returning to Catherine. She kneeled directly in the mud, skirts pulled around to shield her knees, with a look of childlike wonder as she reverently touched each plant. If paper wouldn’t have been absolutely soaked, Calliope was sure she would be taking notes.

Leaving Catherine to the weeding for now, Calliope headed over to her storage chests. She had promised to show Catherine rune crafting. She grabbed a pile of water runes and some various fish, and headed to the mana infuser.

From across the yard, Catherine looked up. “Don’t say you’re doing alchemy without me!”

“I’m just prepping the materials,” Calliope protested, but Catherine was already on her way over.

She was soaked through and dirt snaked up her arms, but Catherine’s eyes were bright as Calliope explained the mana infuser.

“And then when we balance the essence of the fish against the water rune, it draws the mana into liquid form. To the best of my knowledge. Magic isn’t really my speciality, I just follow the recipes I have written down.”

“Oh I so want to experiment with this,” said Catherine. “How long will this potion take?” she asked, nodding to the concoction Calliope had started brewing.

“Uh,” Calliope checked the recipe. “Four hours. So we’ve got some time. We could head inside and dry off, we’re both drenched.” She gave her head a vigorous shake, and water droplets flew off the ends of her hair and ears.

Catherine looked down at her muddy dress ruefully. “I could do with a warm drink and a bath.”

“Well, I haven’t put as much effort into this house as the one in Sun Haven, but I do have the basic necessities stocked,” said Calliope. “Including lavender bubble bath.”

Catherine kissed her cheek. “You really are prepared. While I draw up a bath, you better tell me all about the crops you have here. There’s one that’s a rock but it’s a plant?”

And, scraping the mud off their boots, they headed inside out of the rain.

[rhodywriter]

The Light in the Dark

The world was dark and grey as Rola marched along the path. A cold chill shuddered down her spine, forcing her to pull her threadbare cloak tighter around her shoulders. Mud squelched beneath her feet, indicating the melting winter snow.

Life in Ravenbone was always bleak and bare. The people living there preferred it that way. Ravenbone was one of many small towns that made up the wicked collective of Diaboford, the sinister country in the north. Dark magic lurked everywhere, from the maddening wood full of monsters and ghosts, to the bone-white cliffs of the roiling toiling sea.

Every citizen of Diaboford practiced dark magic. They delighted in formulating potions that could melt the flesh from the face. They cackled in glee at enchanting animals to attack unsuspecting passerby's. They reveled in concocting spells that could control the mind, torture the soul, or simply bring forth the sweet release of death.

All, that is, except Rola. Ravenbone children were born screaming and wailing, an evil glint in their eye and a mouth full of razor teeth. She was the oddity of Ravenbone, born too early and too quiet.

"Why does she not shriek like a normal child?" the nursemaid had hissed as the baby stared curiously up at the mobile of bats fluttering around the crib.

Rola never could fit in, and she preferred it that way. When the other children threw rocks at rats, Rola wove grasses into a crown. When the teenagers practiced brewing potions to make hair fall out, Rola practiced brewing potions to make flowers grow. When the final year students studied methodologies of torture, Rola studied healing and wound closing.

"A disappointment," her father would rumble every night at the dinner table. Her mother wouldn't even look at her.

So Rola spent her days roaming the hills, practicing her own brand of magic in peace. The quiet foothills near the sea remained free of ogres and griffons, the perfect place for privacy. No one could judge her, no one could punish her for her...differences.

The road carved into Diaboford was fraught with bandits and thieves. Rola was never afraid though. She always had a calm demeanor about her. No matter how poorly the village treated her, no matter how cruel her father was, Rola kept her hope that she would find a land that would accept her for who she was.

Dried grass crunched under her feet as Rola made her way off the road towards her favorite spot. Sitting on a rock, she let her grey wool skirts wrap around her legs to protect against the chill.

Plucking a shriveled oak leaf from amongst the dirt, Rola placed it between her hands. Light flowed through her. It pulsed in her veins, it traveled down her bones, it wrapped around her fingers and toes until the leaf had been transformed into a bloodred rose.

A smile crossed her lips.

Someday, she would too would transform. She too would become a thing of beauty, and it would be in a place that appreciated her brightness.

[noodledog]

Behold! The Agricultural Gryphon, better known as the Chicken Griffin or the Chickogriff.

As wild griffons began to be domesticated for mounts and companionship, a group of enterprising individuals realized this would be an excellent opportunity; for poultry roasts with twice as many drumsticks.

Chickogriffs are excellent egg-layers and diligent caretakers of their young. Their ears do not grow much as they mature and are far less visible in the adults, and their tails are stubby, nearly nonexistent, leading to a far more avian appearance than their cousins.

Roosters should not be kept together as they are quite territorial.

Over time most agricultural flocks were bred to be smaller than their wild cousins for ease of management (and safety of handlers), though recently a few hobbyists have begun breeding back larger sizes for “retro” breeds. As a result Chickogriffs run the range of size from cat to lion, with the former being most common.

As chickogriffs became more common among farmyard and backyards, various breeds were developed, with Halfling communities being so well known for theirs that others began to capitalize on this fame- For example the Shirewood Brown was not developed in halfling communities, but was sold as such for their easygoing personality and extra small size. Breeds such as the Nimean were selected for plumage as well as hardiness, leading to an explosion in popularity among hobbyists recently, while Pall's is a breed known for being extra protective of their flock, often including their owners as part of that group and mibbing en masse to attack aggressors. Adventurers beware! One chickogriff may be easy experience, but a swarm can remind you of their origins as top predators.

[gryphonlover]

There is literally no way to mess up spelling gryphon. Because technically you can spell any of the ways shown below:

griffin

griffon

gryffin

gryffon

gryphon

gryphin? Like dolphin? I think this is acceptable??

[kardds-arts]

plague doctor griffin

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