#Armored Core 5 Judgement day

[dramonzealouslynna]

Mechanized Memories, one of the most banger songs from AC5. I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE AUGUST GUHHH. Pained.

[eziojensenthe3rd]

Midnight Gaming: Headless with a regard, down in Australian Undertale

So last night I played Lunacid past midnight, checked socials later to find.... RGG Like a Dragon direct confirmed for Janurary 9th, taking a deeper look into the Pirate Yakuza spin off.

If you were the type of person who played and enjoyed the yakuza series before zero was released, you must feel very, very validated these days huh?

The Yakuza series was sort of an underappreciated series for a while before, with the games mainly being on the playstation consoles and were barely allowed to be localised across seas as SEGA wasnt so sure if people really cared about it. The few times SEGA tried to break the series into the western markets ended up failing to capture major attention in those markets. On ps2 the first game was lauded for its dub being hilariously bad and while it and 2 received favorable reviews, they were assumed to be GTA clones trying to cash in on that series popularity since this was after san andreas and the stories spin offs were released.

There was also Dead Souls which was the next attempt to get the western markets to be into the Yakuza series via way of adding zombies along with a questionable method of aiming and your mileage may vary on how you feel about that game but the general consensus at the time was it was just mediocre and chasing the zombies trend at the time. I recall that the fifth entry of the series Yakuza 5 almost didnt even got a localisation until fans petitioned them to reconsider, so you finally got it as a digital only download.

And then Yakuza 0 releases and the general gaming public noticied it and said "Holy shit, thats rad". You see more people talking about the series nowadays than you have before. What was a series that used to be restricted to the playstation as a sort of "niche" SEGA title, grew into becoming a mainstream series with a lot of the main games being ported to Xbox and PC, hell the switch has a port of Yakuza 1's remake Kiwami. A remake of one the japan only spinoffs was localised. The new games that took a turn into a turn-based rpg thats headlined by a new protagionist were well recieved, with fans of the old style still having the judgement series and Gaiden: the man who erased his name, still having the beat-em-up style of gameplay they are used to. Fans of Yakuza/RGG are eating good nowadays and I cant be more proud of them.

So yeah, its been confirmed that Janurary 9th will have a direct focused on the latest spinoff, featuring the character Majima in a hawaii pirate adventure, revealing more information on it for those interested. Leaving a gematsu link here:

So anyways, you know about Fromsoft, the developer whos responsible for games such as Elden Ring, Bloodborne, Dark Souls and Armored Core. Games that are well known for being challenging and making online streamers rage to the delight of their viewers and to the success of their bank accounts. Before that though however there was one series they did that was an rpg with challenging elements in it. One that demanded patience and caution when playing it with aggressive, careless playstyles often experiencing death as a result.

Yes, this series was known as.... Shadow Tower... oh yeah they also did a series called Kings Field, they did that too :).

So anyways the guy who made the Not-Silent-Hill game Lost In Vivo, Akuma Kira, also made a Not-Kings-Field called Lunacid and its pretty awesome.

The story here is the worlds been brought back into a medievil age with magic in it due to the moon having a crying fit and a massive whale spewed poison all over the surface. Theres now a massive hole under the moon where anything and anyone gets dumped down. You're a convicted criminal who gets sentenced to be thrown into the well and you end up losing a hand in the process, having survived the fall, you now have to explore the areas that reside within the great well and grab any weapons and items ypu find that'll help you face off against any threats you find within the deep caverns and dark labyrinths of australian undertale.

By the way, losing your hand isnt just a story thing, you spend the whole game with only one hand, so you can only equip and use one weapon at a time, you can equip a second to swap to when needed but theres no equipping anything in your offhand because your hand is simply off.

Combat in Lunacid is mainly holding to charge a strike with your weapon to do full damage, making sure to aim your weapon so you strike an enemies weakspot and potentially outright remove that part of the enemy. You headshot a skeleton with your club, its head will be taken off and it'll come after you headless in spite of a regard..... thats.... yeah no thats correct.

If you want some ranged options you can find a bow or a crossbow but you'll mostly come across spell rings that will be your magic in this game. You can equip two, one for each button and they can have either some offensive or supporting effects. You'll find these rings in either chests, dropped from enemies or even hidden behind secret walls. One fun spell you'll find early on is a spell called Lithomancy which will grant inanimate objects the gift of life, so you too can recreate that scene of sorcerer micky from Fantasia, only instead of dancing with living objects in a whimsical way, they just constantly scream at you as they fidget around like a prop in a source engine game when its gets stuck and the physics panic..

Honestly kind of a mood.

I dont want to speak too much about this game incase of revealing a spoiler but I will say this, its a cool game for cool people who want a dungeon crawler that doesnt feel like a loot-based power fantasy or a min-max stat heavy grind. You just explore various areas and look for any items that can help you stay alive or any bits of lore that can fill you on whats been going on in the great well. Should also mention Lunacy being a game mechanic that is tied to the phases of the real life moon and can affect how damaging your spells are along with how dangerous enemies can be.

Anyways, consider giving this game a look, its cool and I like it.

Thank you all for reading this edition of Midnight Gaming, feel free to leave Feedback and Game Suggestions. Talk to you all another time.

[maive-the-sheep]

Pretty sure you need 300 water for no penalty for water.

But i never saw fishing questing as a rush to get all done with nothing inbetween. Ussually just got quest, did it, got reward, did other stuff for the day

Not like i don't have issues with fishing. The fact that no armor drops, all can do is convert ores from crates to armor. And the fact that honey fishing only gets 1 item even in hardmode, not even a crate (except not the bees, which makes half turned into jungle fishing, and half of those turned into biomeless/forest)

And i do think it would be fine to switch the fishing armor up 5 places and bottomless water bucket at that beginning. So same lvl 5 reward for mount, and 10th instead of 25 for water.

And i also think that after a while the angler armor should have a chance of another after certain amount of rewards for aesthetics of armor stands

...but im already weird. Originally played hardcore master (or legendary) with extra self imposed challenges. But then i realized it was too passive, careful, and then easy, and encouraged if crummy seed for nearby loot of just purposely dieing. So now medium core which finding aggressive, forward, huge hard spikes, and deal with hand dealt. Cause difficulty lowers my stress

Yet i like fishing.

Possibly cause all the self impised challenges are thematic including thematic buildings for npcs. A sorta story.

And thanks for explaining reason why you do it. Even if it doesnt make all that sense to me. No judgements from it or any playstyle. Legit was just confused (still a bit but have slightly more understanding)

Terraria players. What is the reason to use infinite liquid glitch?

Speed runs might have some use for it.

But roleplay?

Challenge runs?

Standard fun?

With friends?

The 2 legit methods of a bit of angler quests or some lava fishing for wet bombs seems enough to me.

If anything it speeds things up too much so keep winning, restarting, and becomes repetitive and boring.

Ive had a fun time fishing on even zenith seed

So what's the point? Especially for a standard seed?

[decadenceisnomore]

Info

- Frisk: The Fallen Child. * It's a curious child, but gets afraid pretty easily. Items: Broken Stick and Bandage. Stats: 2 ATK 5 DEF 20 HP - Flowey: Your Only Friend * A scared Desert Flower/Black Flower. * Tries to attack Frisk, but soon he joins Frisk on their journey. * Usually hums classical music when bored Stats: 3 ATK 1 DEF ?? HP His themes are "Your Only Friend", "Your Only Savior" and "FINALE" - Napstablook: The Lonely Beat Maker * Not really feeling up to. sorry. His theme is "Espiritual Strife" - Toriel: The Guardian Of The Decaying Catacombs * Can act super protective with Frisk, but is a sweet person to anyone who is nice with them. * She bakes Cheesecakes, but she isn't really good at it so she bakes a pie instead. * Won't let you leave that easily. * Nobody have ever saw her without the hood, that covers half of her face with a shadow. * Loves reading suspense and horror books. Stats: 75 ATK 55 DEF 450 HP Her theme is "Heartattack" - Sans: The Easiest Enemy...? * Always trying to earn some money so he can sustain his brother and himself. * Really enjoys telling puns, mostly involving dark humour or imature humour. * Sells chili dogs for high prices, but usually making discounts to his friends. * His favorite drink is Mayonnese. * He calls frisk "Poker-face" and "My Safe Box" * The judgement eye is blind. Stats: HP 1 ATK 1 DEF 2 His themes are "smells like rotten bones.", "Song That Will Play When Sans Judges You", "There is a storm somewhere" and "Sentence." Check: He won't lose to a stupid child that easily. - Papyrus: The Evilest and Coolest Skeleton * Wants to be a part of the Royal Guard, but got rejected 5 times in a row for being too stupid. * Loves making puzzles and traps, but mostly fails on making his traps actually harmful. * He cooks meatballs, but sometimes he tries to cook spaghetti or lasagna, but always fails to cook it. * Likes to say "Nyar har har" * Hates seeing sans smoking, but he always tries to not just slap his cigar * He got his scar and battle body while fighting undyne and supposely winning. Stats: ATK 40 DEF 30 HP 750 His themes are "Facing The True Evil" and "Sharpboned Cataclysm" Check: Likes to laugh like a goofy maniac. - Undyne: The Black Eyed Hero...? * She is the capitain of the Royal Guard. * On one of her fights, she got injured on her eyes, making her get hyphema on both eyes. * She liked to play piano, but stopped after the situation of the underground got a bit worse. * She doesn't use much armor, meaning why her body is full of scars and marks. * After the fight she had with Papyrus, they don't talk much like before. * She thinks sans is a weirdo and is a little afraid of what he hides. Stats: ATK 60 DEF 30 HP 2000 Her themes are "Agonizing Spears Of Fear" and "Confronting The Most Malignent Hero" - Alphys: The Royal Scientist * As said, she is the Royal Scientist of the underground, got promoted after the previous scientist disappeared. * Even tho she might look like a mad scientist, she is pretty chill, but sometimes she might get a bit out of control during her experiments. * Loves to eat spicy noodles and watching she buys illegaly. * As undertale alphys, she is romantic attracted to Undyne, but she can hide her attracting better than her undertale counterpart. * She was the one who created Mettatron, but didn't really worked well on him. Stats: Unknown Her theme is "Alphys..." - Mettatron: A Broken Robot * Was the first experiment of Alphys that actually worked. * His humanoid body is just a prototype. * When on box form, he have four hands with destroyed arms, that are just connected to each other by some unknown liquid. * While on EX Form, smoke comes out of some of his orifices, mostly because his body is overheating. * He have a whole brand called MTT Enterprise. * Usully his brand makes every type of stuff, but usually focus on the food market. Stats: HP 9999 (Box)    ATK 40 (Box)    DEF 300 (Box)       HP 2000 (EX)    ATK 64 (EX)    DEF 40 (EX)       HP 30000 (NEO)    ATK 90 (NEO)    DEF 5 (NEO) His themes are "Metal Slammer", "Tragic Death By Charm" and "The Lethal Power of NEO" - Muffet: The Negotiatior * She is still as greedy as undertale muffet, but she have great administration skills. * She owns a sodas and snacks brand named "Muffety's Sweets Inc." * Her brand is Mettaton's biggest competitor. * She have a small shop hidden at the Decaying Ruins. Stats: ATK 45 DEF 20 HP 135O Her theme is: "Arachno Swing" - Asgore: The King of The Underground * Haven't appeared to the public in a while. * His garden is full of Black Flowers/Desert Flowers. * He says that he likes how his garden looks like a huge hole. * He won't let Frisk get out that easily. Stats: ATK 100 DEF 100 HP 4000 His themes are "Foran deres konge" and "THE KING ASGORE." - Asriel: ... * The King and Queen's son. Stats: ATK ∞ DEF ∞ HP 9999 His themes are "His old theme...", "Destruction and Despair", "BURN!" and "SAVE the world" Decadent Society's basic story: Once upon a time, there was two races, monsters and humans One day by the monsters greediness, a war broke between the two races But unfortunately, the humans ended victorious They took a huge indemnity from the monsters and sealed them in the underground Mount Ynadd 20XX Legendes say that whoever climbs the mysterious mountain never comes back Basic information about the locations Forgotten Palace: ruins replacement, once the first hideout for the monster kind, now just an abandoned castle, it's dark but there is a lot of plants growing there, with huge trees included Foggyville: snowdin replacement, the most poor city of the underground, contains a small amount of establishments and has most just houses, instead of snow, there is a lot of fog, but is still as cold as snowdin... somehow Submerged: waterfall replacement, once a decent city, now completely flooded by the sudden unending rain, contains ruined/submerged buildings, with just some specific locations still not submerged VolcanoNation: hotland replacement, an industry only location, with both abandoned and still working buildings, the location of muffet's and mettaton's brand industries The CORE: still da core, is powered by the volcano's lava, might turn off at any moment as the volcano is in risk of dying Capital: the most rich city, based around Brooklyn on it's 80's Precious Home: new home replacement, a small and dark house All of the info was made between July 13, 2020 and September 21, 2020

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 5

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter five

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she’s been thinking that maybe it should say “Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck.”

Her partner’s been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

--

thank you as ever to my support team of mythical beauties, without whom this fic would not exist in its present form:  @thisonesatellite​ for her many, many rereads; @profdanglaisstuff​ for swooping in to save the day (no cape necessary); @katie-dub​ just for being there, and being awesome.

SPEAKING OF AWESOME there are not enough good things to be said about the team @captainswanbigbang​, and the amazing crew in the CSRT discord for cheers and comeraderie and so many late nights of sprinting and bad decisions.

--

cw: canonical character death rating: T/M (implied violence, language) word count:  ~4.5k  AO3  chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

chapter summary:   Hook spends the night in jail, and Emma spends the night dealing with her shit. (It’s not a particularly pleasant way to spend the time, but what the hell--Emma Swan is not a believer.  She is, however, a thief.)

--

Emma had a parking space that was legal, had sightlines into the Mills Organization building, and was far enough back from the entrance that the bright yellow car would not be too memorable. There was even a nearby streetlight that gave enough light to see without destroying her night vision.

It was almost enough to make a person believe in magic.

No cars went by as she sat and waited; no late-night pedestrians passing by in activities either savory or unsavory.

But she sat, and waited, because Hook was right and this was her best chance of making progress. Because she believed him when he said he hadn’t stolen Gold’s “valuable object”, no matter how much it went against her better judgement.

She believed him, about that and--

Her fingers traced over the soft, pebbled leather of Henry’s book as she waited, turning open to a page at random: a cartoonish drawing of a wedding, the bride in white and the groom in plate armor complete with sword belt. It was True Love and Happily Ever After, all of it Mary Margaret down to the core.

Once Upon a Time.

Only the longer Emma stared at the illustration, the more the image began to seem like a photograph, like she could almost see their faces and the stained glass and the way the princess’s skirt fluttered not from fabric but from feathers dancing in the air.

The lights in the window flickered, pulling Emma’s focus fully back toward the building and there was a tall woman--blonde--she was dressed out of time in a voluminous brown skirt embroidered all over in roses and it looked like the curtain-clothing from The Sound of Music. She walked through the front door and vanished in a single flash of hard white light; a scream carried through the air and Emma was out of her car before the echo had faded.

That was when she saw the man in the animal coat, the one with the skin that seemed to glitter. In his hand was something small and white and he carried it as though it were both delicate and valuable.

“Hey!” Emma called out.

His expression, was she could see of it, registered surprise. The object vanished as he held his hands at right angles to each other and he giggled.

“Who are you?” Emma called, trying to walk forward and finding herself unable to do so.

“Not yet, dearie,” he said. “Not yet.”

He vanished; Emma felt a hand brush against her shoulder and jumped.

It wasn’t a hand--it was a silver hook where the prosthetic left hand of James Hook’s had been.

“Tick-tock, Swan,” he said.

The fingers of his right hand rubbed against her wrist and when Emma woke it was with her own hand wrapped around her tattoo and her head leaning against the steering wheel.

--

The thing about stakeouts was that you needed actually to stay awake in order to execute one, so Emma gave up the game and turned the Bug back home when she saw the lights in Regina’s office were out. She parked the car in the first open spot within spitting distance of the of and found herself running inside, nearly banging the door into the wall when she came through. She called out an apology to Mary Margaret before remembering that it was well after midnight and only sort-of noticed that her roommate wasn’t even home as she started pulling drawers and cabinets open, looking for the one box that she never unpacked, never once in the seven different addresses. For most of her life, its contents had been in her backpack, squished up and neglected but never left behind, leaving just enough room for a toothbrush and a change of clothes and a few pairs of socks, maybe a hat if she was living someplace cold.

The blanket was soft, the knitted wool somehow still fluffy under her fingers in spite of its ignominious storage conditions. Emma pulled it out slowly, running her fingers across the smooth purple ribbon woven through, feeling the simple running stitch across the upper corner that spelled out her name. She sat cross-legged on the floor and draped the blanket over her legs and told herself it was just for a minute.

Emma’s life was full of nightmares. Sometimes, on her worst days, her entire existence actually felt like one; a waking hell from which there was no escape except for her own determination to keep going and to keep running.

But none of those nightmares had ever felt like this, like something true and just on the edge of her consciousness, like a memory.

Milah. The crocodile.

Emma could still see his face as he died in her dream, and she wasn’t sure if she meant Graham’s or Hook’s or both, so she sat on the floor with her blanket.

Enjoy the quiet moment.

The blanket didn’t offer much in terms of real warmth when she sat on the floor, but Emma didn’t notice. She rubbed her hand across her wrist as though she could feel the motif inked there--remembered a time and a girl and a friend, her only friend, scribbling on that wrist and saying now we can both be special. Neal and how he had made her feel special; prison and the tattoo to remind herself that she was special without anyone’s help; the buttercup because once upon a time there had been a girl in a storybook that no one thought was special and she became a princess, the True Love to end all True Loves.

Henry’s book had fallen open and Emma slammed it shut almost exactly at the moment when the door banged open again, a slightly disheveled and fully distracted Mary Margaret walking in and nearly tripping over her.

“Oh!” Mary Margaret futtered around her, reaching a hand down toward the floor, apparently changing her mind, and then covering her mouth with it. “Emma! I didn’t expect you.” She paused. “On the floor, I mean.” Her hands were rubbing against each other anxiously as she played with the peridot ring on her middle finger.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma said, rubbing unshed tears from her eyes before her friend had enough focus to notice them. She really did not want a post-coital Mary Margaret going all mother-hen after the night she’d had. “Sorry. Got caught up in...a case.”

“Hmmm?” Mary Margaret said, still distracted. “Oh, that’s good.”

Emma looked at her friend, really looked at her: the woman was a wreck. Tear streaks on her face, the kind that came from ugly crying--and Sheriff Nolan had been the one to pull Hook into custody. So--

“Where have you been?”

“Out,” Mary Margaret said, dully. “Walking. By the water?”

“Is that a question?” Emma said.

“What?” And there was that famous Mary Margaret focus, looking at her as if she had just noticed the two of them were standing in their dining area in the middle of the night. “Emma, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Emma said.

“‘Nothing’ with you always means something,” Mary Margaret sighed, “because if it were nothing, you wouldn’t be sitting on our floor in the middle of the night.”

“We were talking about you,” Emma said, a little desperate.

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret said. “But talking about you is easier right now. Remember how you told me to stay away from David and I didn’t?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, pushing herself upright and going for the Scotch. Mary Margaret didn’t drink that often, but they kept a bottle of it in the same cupboard where Emma had hidden her blanket. Mary Margaret bent over and picked the book up off the floor.

“Where did you find this?” she asked. “Did Henry Mills give this to you?”

“What?” Emma said, startled. “Why?” She poured herself a shot and then another one for her friend, handing it over.

“I lent it to him,” Mary Margaret said wistfully. “It used to be my favorite book, you know.”

Emma took her drink and poured another. “Fairy tales?” Emma laughed, and it was harsh--slightly hysterical, even. “Seems about right for you.” She finished the second shot and put the glass down.

“No,” Mary Margaret said, running her fingers across the gilded lettering. “It was more than that. It was hope. Like--believing in even the possibility of a happy ending.”

“Hope,” Emma repeated dubiously.

“And belief,” Mary Margaret said. “It’s a very powerful thing, you know.”

“Whatever,” Emma said, summoning a smile for her friend. She walked toward the ladder to her loft before turning back in an attempt to offer Mary Margaret some kind of reassurance, but Mary Margaret was no longer there. Or maybe she was, only her hair--long now instead of the short pixie cut she typically favored--her hair piled on her head, her waist confined in a dress with a white silk corseted bodice.

The skirt had feathers.

“Mary Margaret?” Emma said.

“Yes?” The woman in white answered her.

“Good night,” Emma said.

--

Sleep was a challenge and beginning daylight was making the sky go grey; Emma was already dressed and out the door by the time five o’clock came and went. She had gone to bed full of whiskey and frustration and fear, chasing a vision of a woman in white through the pages of the storybook she’d gone downstairs for as soon as she’d heard her roommate’s sobbing go quiet and still.

She hadn’t slept.

The fairy tales were--unexpected. To begin with, they were not in any sort of chronological order, meandering through a series of origin stories and follow-ups seemingly based on whatever interested the author most at that particular moment; an increasingly hard-to-follow series of circumlocutions as if they had been paid by the plot twist to churn out the craziest content they could think of. Snow White was a bandit; Prince Charming a shepherd; Red Riding Hood was the Big Bad Wolf and True Love’s Kiss could conquer anything.

Including The Dark Curse, product of the darkest magic and the most malign intent, unleashed upon the world by an Evil Queen manipulated by a man known as the Dark One, and then Snow White and Prince Charming had wrapped their newborn daughter in a hand-knitted blanket trimmed with purple ribbon and hoped that someday, she would find them.

All of it, he’d said, is because of Regina Mills and Robert Gold.

That was when Emma left a note for her friend, promising breakfast, and went back to The Rabbit Hole.

The rear entrance was locked but the office wasn’t, and anyway Emma had come prepared for both, the tension wrench going straight in and exactly the right amount of pressure on the pins popping the back door open in a matter of seconds. The room was exactly as they had left it, even down to Emma’s unfinished tumbler of rum sitting on the far side of Hook’s desk. This time, though, Emma sat on his side, in his chair, bending to examine the drawers.

In the third drawer down she found the locked box. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the lock on this offered more of a challenge than the back door had done, but it was still open in less than a minute, its contents spread across the desk for Emma’s examination. Emma’s hands fidgeted with the smallest treasure pulled from the trove--a ring on a chain--as she contemplated the curved, silver metal that would not have looked out of place in the collection on the wall in the main bar. The hook was nestled in with a scrap of worn leather embossed with a sigil, a foreign crest stamped atop the name ‘JONES’; what stopped Emma in her tracks was the pen-and-ink drawing of a woman and another of a boy, both with creases so sharply worn from folding and unfolding that she was almost surprised the paper--the parchment--didn’t fall apart in her hands.

The boy could almost have been a twin for Henry Mills.

But Henry didn’t have a twin--that much, at least, Emma knew for sure. She’d only given birth the once.

The ring went around her neck before Emma could ask herself why.

The parchment went into her pocket.

Everything else went back into the lockbox and then back into the drawer.

Everything you think you believe is wrong, he’d said.

But Emma Swan was not a believer.

--

Granny’s at seven in the morning was another challenge. Not just because the neighborhood’s best coffee shop and diner would naturally be bustling during the morning rush but because Emma’s head was still pounding from the Scotch. Almost before she sat down, Granny had sent Ruby over with a cup of steaming hot chocolate, whipped cream on top and a cinnamon stick instead of a spoon to stir it. Ruby pulled a face at being dragged back into her old waitressing gig, then gave Emma a wink and sat down, brandishing a bear claw.

Emma closed her eyes and tried to remember why Ruby had quit working at her grandmother’s diner instead of imagining a werewolf serving a breakfast pastry. Something about a row between Granny and Ruby that ended up with Ruby at the bus stop, threatening to leave town, and Emma finding her and mentioning that she and Graham could use the extra help.

“You look like shit,” Ruby commented, taking a bite of an apple that matched her lipstick.

“Are you sure Granny didn’t just fire your ass?” Emma retorted. “Because that is now how you speak to paying customers.”

Ruby laughed. “I’m a people person,” she said. “One that you pay to speak to your customers.”

“Good point,” Emma said, offering a small smile. “How long did you work here, anyway?”

“As long as I can remember,” Ruby said, rolling her eyes. “Too long, that’s for sure.”

As long as I can remember.

“I’m sorry my heart attack interfered with your plans to sleep your way down the eastern seaboard,” Granny said, coming up behind them. “Eat your bear claw or I won’t save you one next time.” That last was directed at Emma, who hastened to comply.

Ruby laughed. “What’s up with you this morning, Em? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bear claw last long enough for you to put it on a plate before.”

Emma shrugged. “It was a long night,” she said, because that was easier than saying she’d stayed up too late reading fairy tales and drinking, or explaining that she’d already committed a felony and been to the office before seven. She’d sat at Graham’s desk, with his things--added another reminder to her collection when she’d pulled the laces from his work boots and tied them around her wrist to cover her tattoo. Hook’s ring bumped up against the swan pendant around her neck that might as well have been an albatross for how much it had weighed her down in the years since Neal had stolen it for her and then bequeathed it to her, a parting gift she’d received in prison as she served the sentence he’d set her up to take.

It came in the mail the same day she’d taken the pregnancy test.

Emma Swan did not get emotional about men and she carried the reasons--the reminders--why everywhere she went.

It’s always nice to leave an impression.

The ring was leaving an impression in her skin from where she’d wrapped her hand around it, Emma realized as she tried to focus on what Ruby was saying to her, and then the bell over the entrance rang and Mary Margaret came in, looking nervously around her before sliding into their booth. Emma ordered her a tea by gesturing for Ruby to go get it, which got her another fake snarl before Mary Margaret said, in a voice barely above a whisper: “I broke up with David.”

“Ah,” Emma said. She leaned in closer, wanting to offer comfort but not totally sure how to do it. She reached her hand out to her roommate’s in an unfamiliar gesture, then let it fall to the table when her eye caught the peridot ring Mary Margaret wore on her third finger.

"I’m not the jewelry type," said Snow White. "I can tell," said the prince."

“Kathryn,” Mary Margaret said, “his wife, I mean, she got into law school.” She paused. “In Boston.”

And it was then, when he saw his mother’s ring on her finger, that he knew in his heart there was no other woman he would ever love.

Emma pulled at the ring on the chain around her neck.

Consider it a reminder.

“So David is moving with her?”

Ruby laughed. “David, outside of Storybrooke? I’m not sure if he would survive.”

“No,” Mary Margaret said, on the verge of tears. “We talked about it--we agreed--to take the opportunity to start over from a real place. He was going to tell her the truth. We were going to be honest.”

Emma did not fail to notice the repeated use of the past tense.

“He didn’t tell her,” Emma said, not needing to ask. “But she found out, didn’t she?”

“While you were out last night on your case I was with David,” Mary Margaret said. “And then his wife called looking for him. She thought he was on duty at the station but he didn’t answer there so she--” Mary Margaret was wiping away tears. “He was supposed to tell her. He told me that he did.”

“That would have been the honorable thing to do,” Emma muttered.

“And I realized,” Mary Margaret said, “that what we have, it isn’t love. It’s something else, something destructive. We shouldn’t be together. It’s like we’re cursed.”

"Show me you feel the same, and we can be together forever." “They had their happy endings stolen from them,” Hook had said.

Ruby came back with the tea and sat down, looking between Emma and Mary Margaret before enveloping Mary Margaret in a hug.

“I always thought,” Mary Margaret said, “that if two people were meant to be together, they find a way. They--find each other, no matter what. I really believed that.”

“If you need anything--” “You’ll find me?” Snow said, looking at him thoughtfully. "Always,” Charming confirmed. “I almost believe that.”

Emma shook her head, trying to wake herself up, trying not to picture the story she’d read the night before, trying not to see the woman in white and a red-cloaked werewolf where her friends were sitting. She took a sip of her cocoa and looked at the clock: 7:15.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Ruby was saying, an arm still wrapped around Mary Margaret’s shoulder as the bell over the door rang again and Sheriff David Nolan walked in.

“You made a mistake with David,” Emma said. “It happens. Hang in there. If there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”

“Thank you,” Mary Margaret said softly, wiping under her eyes, though her mascara was already a lost cause.

So much for True Love.

But Emma still had a job to do, even if she wasn’t completely sure what it was any more. She finished her cocoa and got up, a quick “see you at the office” to Ruby and a hand on the shoulder, which seemed like the right thing to do, for Mary Margaret. She walked toward David and resisted the urge to hit him when she got in front of him and asked, “What happened with Hook last night?”

David’s head moved but he wasn’t looking at her. He was almost looking through her as he said, “I’m looking,” which didn’t seem like an answer to her question.

“What the fuck, Nolan? You really want to dick around right now?” Emma gestured impatiently at the sobbing woman behind both of them.

“I’m looking,” he repeated, and it still wasn’t an answer.

“Whatever,” Emma muttered, moving toward the way out. David Nolan looked like a man possessed.

Or cursed.

Fuck literally all of that, Emma thought as the door closed behind her, nearly walking into someone on the sidewalk. She sidestepped him at the last minute, turning behind her just to double-check, and he was staring at her. The man was tall, with messy hair and wide eyes, something frantic in his gaze. He wore a cravat and a top coat as if that was a thing people did, and turned away when she met his eyes, walking quickly in the other direction.

Emma buried her hands in her pockets, twisting her fingers in the fabric of the pocket bags, and walked to the sheriff’s station.

--

She should have been expecting to find him already gone, if Nolan was out and about getting coffee, but finding the cell empty was still something of a shock. Judging by the charge sheet David had left on his desk--without locking the door, making it easy to snoop--Hook had been bailed out by a woman named Cora Hart. David had left no other notes or thoughts, at least none that Emma could see, so she walked back to the door and came face-to-face with Regina Mills, who was walking in and looking, as usual, angry.

“Seriously?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” Regina said, apparently exasperated in addition to angry. “What game are you playing at, Miss Swan?”

“I could say the same to you,” Emma retorted. “It was you, wasn’t it, who phoned the Sheriff last night?”

Regina did not condescend to answer. “The way the two of you were making eyes at each other,” Regina said with a sneer, “constituted a crime.”

“We do not,” Emma objected, “‘make eyes’.” Emma realized her mistake only when Regina snorted--it felt like an admission, of sorts, and definitely one that Regina could not be trusted with.

“I’ve come to see to him, at any rate,” Regina said expectantly. “What have you done with him?”

Emma gestured at the empty cell with a flourish, suppressing the urge to make a mocking little bow. “He’s gone,” she said. “Bailed out this morning by Cora Hart.”

There was a beat of silence and then Regina’s face went completely white, as if all of the blood had drained from her face at once--except for her lips, which remained so red they looked bloodstained.

“Who is she, Regina?”

“It’s not possible,” Regina whispered.

“You seem to be saying that a lot lately,” Emma said. “It never seems to be true.”

Regina’s perfectly painted lips formed a moue. “She’s my mother,” Regina admitted.

“I thought your mother was dead,” Emma said.

“So did I,” Regina said.

--

Watching Henry Mills on the playground was like staring into the past.

A group of kids crowded around the swingset; another took turns using a slide; and Henry sat, resplendent in his solitude, in the tower of a play structure.

“He calls it his castle,” Mary Margaret explained when Emma had shown up at the school looking for Henry. “That’s where he spends most of his time.”

Emma had always been, at best, at the fringes of childhood socializing. More often, she found herself alone and apart, considered temporary--too aloof, too prickly, too much effort to be worth it.

“You left this in my office,” Emma said, coming up behind him and settling herself next to him. The book she left on the ground in between them.

“Oh,” Henry says, looking sheepish. “Yeah, thanks...Emma.”

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Emma said.

His expression brightened. “You read it?” he asked, excited. “You know?”

“Did I read what?” she said. “Do I know what?”

“The story about you,” Henry tapped the book. “That you’re the Savior.”

“Oh, kid,” Emma said. “You’ve got problems.” Then: “What is it, anyway?”

Henry considered her. “I’m not sure you’re ready, Emma,” he said seriously.

“I’m not ready for fairy tales?”

“They’re not fairy tales,” he said with complete sincerity. “They’re true. Every story in this book actually happened.”

Every story you’ve read, Hook had said, some version of it has actually happened.

“I’ve kind of had enough of the book crap,” Emma said, then winced. “Sorry, I guess I should watch my language or something. But, yeah, I read some of the stories in your book.”

Henry was quiet for a minute, waiting.

“What I meant,” Emma said, “was that I’m your--your birth mother.”

That was the first time she said it out loud.

“I know,” Henry said.

She had never even let herself hold him.

“It’s okay, Emma,” Henry said, his eyes as wide as saucers and his voice gentle and older than his years. “I know why you gave me away. You wanted to give me my best chance.”

“How do you know that?” Emma asked.

“Because,” he said, “it’s the same reason Snow White gave you away.”

Your parents’ entire kingdom was cursed. They sent you here to break it.

“What matters is that you’re here now,” Henry said happily. “You’re going to bring back the happy endings. It says so in the book.”

A place where all of their happy endings had been stolen.

“Did Hook tell you that?”

“Hook?” Henry repeated. “Like, Captain Hook?”

“No,” Emma said, shaking her head. “No, like Hook from The Rabbit Hole.”

Henry was nodding. “Yeah, Liam’s brother. Hook. Captain Hook, Emma. He’s in the book, too.”

“Listen to me: I’m not in any book, I’m a real person. I’m no savior,” she said. “But you’re right about one thing--I wanted you to have your best chance, and it wasn’t with me.”

“But it could be,” Henry said quietly. “You don’t know what it’s like here. With her. It’s not--it really sucks, Emma.”

Emma was surprised to hear that kind of language from a ten-year-old and she wanted to grab him, to soothe him. She didn’t know if she was allowed to, though, so she rubbed her hand against his shoulder and quickly pulled it away.

“You could be,” Hook had said.

She couldn’t do this.

She was not parent material.

How could she be a parent when she never was one? When she never had one?

“Believe me, kid,” Emma said, “I know what ‘sucking’ is. I was left on the side of a freeway--my parents didn’t even bother to drive me to a hospital. But I’m sure, in her way, your mom is trying her best.”

“Emma,” Henry said, “you’ve met her. You’ve seen her. Do you really believe that?”

She didn’t--she really didn’t. But she couldn’t say that to a ten-year-old kid who wasn’t legally hers.

“I want to, kid,” Emma said.

“You know she’s the Evil Queen,” Henry said. “She’s the one who made it so your parents had to send you away--they didn’t leave you on the side of the freeway. That’s just where you came through.”

“What?”

“When you went through the wardrobe,” Henry said, “your parents were just trying to save you from the curse--so you could find them, and break it.”

“You found me,” Snow said. “Did you ever doubt that I would?”

“Sure they were, kid,” Emma said. “So, you spend a lot of time with Hook?”

“Liam’s my friend,” he said, shrugging. “His brother is always really nice to me.”

“And you told him about your storybook? That’s why you think he’s Captain Hook?”

Henry looked shocked. “Of course not, Emma,” he said. “They don’t know they’re cursed. That’s the whole point.”

But Hook--he knew.

“And you think I’m here to break this curse? That’s why you stole Mary Margaret’s credit card to find me? Why you left the book in my office?”

“Yeah,” he said with certainty. “Because you’re the product of True Love. That’s what makes you the Savior.”

“True Love,” he’d said. “That’s the most powerful magic of all, or so they say.” He’d said that, as if magic were real and it was just that simple, and then he’d looked at her with the kind of look you get in your eyes when you’ve been left alone. The kind of look a man might have after growing up under an indenture and losing the brother who had protected him--the kind of look he might have after watching the woman he loved die while he was helpless to stop it--the kind of look that might drive a man to chase his vengeance through worlds and time and finally give himself over to a curse in the hope of finally finding his revenge.

“You really believe,” Emma said, “that everyone in this world is a fairy tale character?”

Everything you think you believe is wrong.

But Emma Swan was not a believer.

“No,” Henry said.

Emma smiled, relieved.

“Just the ones in this part of town, in Storybrooke,” he said. “Time’s been frozen, only, I think it started moving again when you got here.”

“And no one noticed that time just, like, didn’t move?”

“They don’t know,” Henry insisted. “It’s a haze to them, ask anyone anything about their pasts.”

“As long as I can remember,” Ruby said. "As long as I can remember,” Hook said. He’s older than he looks.

“So let me get this straight,” Emma said. “For decades, people have been wandering around, not aging, with screwed-up memories, stuck in a curse?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Henry said. “I knew you’d get it--that’s why we need you. You’re the only one who can stop my mom.”

“Because I’m the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming,” Emma said.

“Yes,” Henry said. “But my mom doesn’t know that--we have the advantage.”

“The child got away,” Hook had said.

“Riiiight,” Emma said, drawing out the word. “And who--who do you think Snow White is, exactly?”

“Miss Blanchard,” Henry said. “Definitely. And I’m pretty sure that Sheriff Nolan is Prince Charming.”

“It’s like we’re cursed,” Mary Margaret had said.

“Oh, kid,” Emma said again.

“I have a name, you know,” he said. “It’s Henry.”

“Yeah,” Emma whispered.

Henry put his hand on her arm. “I know you like me, Emma. And I know the hero never believes at first. If they did, it wouldn’t be a very good story.” He held the book out to her, barely balancing it in both hands.

Emma took the book.

She was not a believer.

--

@kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @spartanguard​ @optomisticgirl​ @katie-dub​ @eirabach​ @stahlop​ @snowbellewells​ @captainsjedi​ @carpedzem​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @mariakov81​

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Anyway, finally the game is stable, and I’ve finally gotten my core followers, time to flesh out what will be hopefully be my Dragonborn for the foreseeable future.

Ayerin the Perplexing.

She’s a Altmer Mage, or at least that’s what she claims to be, Goth-Coded, and I’m gona write her on the Autistic spectrum cause I’m on the spectrum so that’s basically half the work done, and the second she learns she’s a dragonborn she’ll start experimenting on her dragon blood, discovering a way to taint it, strengthen it and her soul so that she’d be able to do the impossible, bear both Molag Bal’s and Hircine’s curses at the same time. The way to do so, however, is still long and distant, and necessitates of a third curse, to balance the two, and allow her to survive both Vampiric and Werewolf transformations, by rendering her mortal if long lived mortal shell, immortal and undead first, before even ascending as a vampire.

She’s a Seeker of the Arcane Arts and a Mage. Her dad is a follower of the old Altmer pantheon, specifically Syrabane, the God of Magic, an Aldmer ancestor who ascended to divinity through his own efforts, and has transmitted to his daughter the same devotion to the so called Apprentice God, whose favor is obtained by the constant and tireless research of magical knowledge. He used to be a lecturer for the Arcane University, but after the war the faculty decided they didn’t exactly need his services anymore. They moved to Bravil, where he became a lowly illusion tutor in the local chapter of the mages guild, his career effectively put to a halt.

Her papa, on the other hand, doesn’t care much for gods. He’s a soldier, a legate for the Imperial Legion, stationed in Cyrodil, or at least he was. He lost a arm during the great war, as he attempted to stop the atrocities the Aldmeri Dominion, their own people, were committing in the Cyrodilian Countryside, missing the siege of the imperial city as a result. He’s bitter and angry, but he’s glad he and his loved ones are still alive as a result, even if they are being ostracized for being different, as if they didn’t just fight a war against people who were ostracizing others for being different from them.

Ayerin grows interested in magic as a result of her dad’s influence. Under the supervision of her dad, she tried to gain access to the Arcane University, but was found too curios, too interested in... forbidden lore and knowledge, even expressing some perplexity over the banning of necromancy, a now time honored tradition of the mage’s guild.

That’s when she gets her moniker. The Perplexing. Or maybe, more fittingly, the Perplexed. Always searching for knowledge she ought not to search, for powers that better be left alone, in all 5 schools of magic, baffling and perplexing her peers as much as their “irrational” reactions baffle and perplex her.

The local politics also confuse her, perplexed over why should wizard start squabbling over petty court politics. She never really understood politics in general really, she took from her Papa that way, everything had always been very straightforward for them, always a black and white issue, no matter how much people tried to paint it otherwise, and she didn’t understand why other people couldn’t see it that way.

It was only logical after all.

Her dreams are weird, black voids with white smoke, filled with still images of people, monsters, beings, objects, a weird voice, probably belonging to a old man, giving her advice, some times good, some times just weird, talking about events before her life, as if he was there, as if he knew who was there, mentioning the gods, and talking about the divines and the daedric princes as if they were old chums... or bitter enemies some times.

It’s weird, but strangely illuminating if she managed to decipher his rants, a constant companion of her nights, and she assumes it must be a Daedra working for Vaermina, or maybe one of her demiprinces, especially given how... weirdly fond he seemed to be of the nightmare mistress when he talked about her, but still, she wasn’t that worried about this, it wasn’t like a major daedric prince had decided to set up camp in her dreams after all, she could handle some minor heckling mixed in with some genuine good advice or history lessons about the history of Cyrodil, surprisingly well done and serious in tone, as if they were 2 completely different persons.

At 25 years of age, abandoning her attempts to join the Mages Guild, she decides to move north, to Skyrim. She has heard of a long forgotten cult, attempting to create a true lich for themselves, and also that the college of Winterhold seemed more open to the prospect of its members researching forbidden lores and crafts, no matter how blasphemous they might seem, and she’s all for that, finally, a place where her genius will be recognized!

So, with her blessing of her Dad and her Papa, sad to see her go but glad she’ll be able to leave the nest and follow her dreams, with enough magical research to allow her to cast at least 2 spells for every school of magic, if still really novice ones, she crosses the border into Skyrim...

And gets captured in an Imperial Ambush.

It’s almost mechanical what happens next, going with the flow as if it has happened countless of times already. She’s almost executed, but a Dragon saves her (Usually, it’s the knight that saves the princess from a dragon, not the other way around).

She flees the fort with the awkward soldier who tried to be nice to her, and failed miserably at doing so. She might have hold against him mistaking her for a Thalmor spy (And she spits on the ground at the thought, startling her new companions as they watch her give her daily prayers to Syrabane), but she always considered herself as a excellent judge of character, and of the two men that offered to help her flee, one was simply running for his life, the other had almost given his life to save a young child from the drgaon’s breath, as most other imperial soldiers were doing at the moment.

Which meant only one of them was noble enough or dumb enough to position himself between her assailants and her sparks, and that was the dumbass thought sending her corpse to a country she had never set foot in would have comforted her in her final moments.

At least he was easy on the eyes.

They leave the fort, she finds some junk, a rusty old ceremonial sword among them, and contemplates just how competent those Stormcloaks actually are if their armor and weaponry consists in some strings of leather and scraps of metal barely held together with spit and hope, she even manages to find some spiffy new robes for her, still no boots tho, forced to wander the place just with some wrappings at her feet. It hurts like hell, but she’d rather wear that than... ugh... light armor, uncomfortable and itchy as it always made her feel.

They flee the fort and he offers her to give her shelter to the near Riverwood, Hadvar’s, that’s the hot dumbass’ name, home town. It’s pretty close, and along the way they find the so called guardian stones, old pendants hidden in the hole within them. She was born under the sign of the mage, so she activates the according stone, but Hadvar mentions that unlike her birthsign, the stones do not bind her to just one sign, much to her befuddlement. She doesn’t press him, noticing his barely veiled... judgement at her choice of stone, and notices a door down the slope the Stones are perched on, embed in the mountain as she leaves, wondering what it must have been.

What follows is a whirlwind, she meets Alvor, Hadvar’s uncle, and finds herself almost stealing all the food he had offered her, starving as she found herself, eating chicken eggs raw and stockpiling potatoes for the incoming trip. She’s supposed to got to Whiterun, warn the local Jarl of the dragon attacks...

Gennarino tells her to go to Falkreath instead. It’s as close as Whiterun, and she needs to find someone there.

Gennarino is her oldest and most devoted friend. A traditional Direnni name according to her Papa when she mentioned him, it also happened to be the name of the assistant of a great Aldmer sorceress, during the war against the Sloads, obsessed with gold, who ended her days living in a remote island, at the foot of a slumbering volcano, her name lost to time.

Gennarino also happened to be a Raven. Her Raven. Who oh so happened to be invisible to anyone but her.

Or, well, almost anyone but her. She was pretty sure other animals could see him just fine, as could some of the kids she used to play with, before she was considered too “weird” to be played with, as well as one (1) drunk Argonian in the Imperial City, green and sad and screaming against the heavens in the rain, complaining about friends dying or disappearing after becoming gods and leaving him behind with all the golds and riches that he’ll never be able to share with them, while also complaining about the loud crow giving him a headache.

Still, invisible Raven, followed her all her life, his advice has always been followed by her, how would she not, he’d always been right, even more so than her, and she might be stubborn and curious but she also know the old stories, the old fairy tales about strange little creatures following strange advice to be followed to the letter, a clear, easy way for the player and the author to justify her sudden detour in the middle of such a important situation.

Anyway, she leaves for Falkreath before long, apologizing to Hadvar and the others, who take it better than she expected, before trying to buy some more spell tomes from the local trader, delighting herself in the sudden new variety in the new land (”Uh, death hound, never heard of that conjuration summon, and what is this? “Lamb of Mara”? Is this a religious spell?”). On the way, she visits the door she spotted, finding alarge, sprawling room, filled with altars to anything but her god.

She pledges herself to be a follower of her own mind, something Syrabane would probable appreciate, before inspecting the other altars. The Hermanus Mora one (Already whispering sweet knowledge to her starved mind, as she resists to its pull... for now) has a variety of books as offerings, among them a spell she had never seen before.

She prays for her god there, and leaves for Falkreath. She finds no trabel along the way, only corpses and a traveling bard, with whom she concludes her journey to Falkreath.

There, she finds Lucien, an Imperial, so easily flustered, so eager to follow her to their death, a fellow seeker of knowledge, as they say. He asks her to become his bodyguard, she who can’t even defend herself, and she accepts, both for the money he’s offering, and for the prospect of her research to gain something from their sudden collaboration...

Also because despite everything she really needed a meat shield. And something tells her that if her crow has told her to go for that one, inexperienced and incompetent as he might seem, there seemed to be a reason for that.

She’s not eager to test this concept, and decides to leave for Whiterun this time, as Lucien also suggests, to warn the Jarl of his impending doom...

Except then Gennarino grabs at her Map, a gift from her dads, that she managed not to lose in the ambush, and tells her to go to Riften instead, where another valuable assets lies. Its very insisting, more so than when he told her to go to Falkreath, so she leaves, resigned, Lucien puzzled at her sudden change of destination midway, and there, finally, meeting Inigo.

Now, they are here, a Mage who has just started her journey into the mysteries of the unknown, a Half Naked Khajiit that mistook her for someone else, a inexperienced “Milk drinker” donning imperial armor in a rebel stronghold filled to the brim with bloodthirsty Stormcloaks (Why, she just witnessed their lot violently suppress a small Imperial assault, barely 4-5 soldier, that’s where she got one of the armors before the city guard stopped her from looting the other corpses by tossing them in the river), her talking, maybe there maybe not crow, cawing at her that now, yes, she can go to Whiterun, finally...

And who knows what their future holds for them?

[coolclaytony]

No-Ah Grand Elders: Ev-En, Elder of Earth (Pathfinder 1st edition Quasi-Deity)

The No-Ah hierarchy is, at it's core, a bureaucratic gerontocracy; where age and station dictate the hierarchy. As such the eldest members of each elemental caste of No-Ah, the Grand Elders, serve as the oligarchs of their people. As proof of their authority, No-Ah who live long enough to ascend to grand elder status go up one size category (no larger than huge), gain the mythic subtype, and become quasi-deific. Their granted domains are Artifice, their racial elemental subtype, and two others of their choice. Their subdomains must be Construct, at least one from their elemental domain, and three others. A Grand Elder is always character level 20 and gains the Advanced simple template. Additionally, a Grand Elder gains “Restore Vitality” as a bonus mythic ability (see below). Only when a Grand Elder dies, or more rarely, when a No-Ah of a new elemental type is born does a No-Ah ascend in this manner.

Ev-En, Elder of Earth LN 3rd No-Ah Grand Elder of Earth, Duty, and Sacrifice Domains Artifice, Earth, Law, Nobility Subdomains Caves, Construct, Judgement, Martyr, Toil Worshipers architects, earth no-ah, miners, soldiers, subterranean races. Minions earth elementals, earth no-ah Symbol a downward pointing triangle bisected by a horizontal line Favored Weapon spiked gauntlet or hook hand Obedience hold your left appendage over your heart (or an equivalent) and make an oath out loud to your self to carry out any task set before you, to the best of your ability, by someone who has legitimate authority over you. You must be willing to do anything within your power, even at the risk of personal injury or death, to see those tasks carried out. You gain a +4 luck bonus to any skill check which helps you accomplish such tasks. Boons 1: stone shape 2/day; 2: summon nature's ally II (small earth elemental) 2/day; 3: wall of stone 2/day Predecessors Ev-Ot > Ev-Ri > Ev-En

It is an understanding among the No-Ah that in order to create and preserve anything, something else must be sacrificed, thus one who gives up themselves for the greater good is the most blessed of beings. Few know this truth better than Grand Elder Ev-En. His birth was one of grim necessity. The Qlippoth Lord, Isph-Aun-Vuln, had galvanized her most powerful alien cults to war against the No-Ah with the intent of undermining their mission to preserve and nurture mortal life. Ev-En was among the many No-Ah who were produced en-mass by the Grand Elders to hold a line against her relentless and ruthless armies, a task which required the destruction of planets that could have been converted into bountiful new worlds. He had to kill many beautiful and vibrant lifeforms, tainted by the qlippoth's lies, and watch those same creatures brutally slaughter his siblings and cousins by the thousands. He would give much of himself to help ensure victories for the No-Ah with as little bloodshed on either side as he possibly could, inevitable as it was. To this end, he learned to fight unarmed, bolstered by abjuration magic. This training would prove useful when Ark-00 became assaulted by the Iathavos and it's nyogoth hordes. This Iathavos was trained especially to deal with the No-Ah and proved formidable even for the Grand Elders. Ev-En was among the No-Ah soldiers who fought alongside his parent, Ev-Ri, when the qlippoth singled them out. It was here that Ev-En talents showed their true worth, as he purged the flanking nyogoth of their corruption and turned the tables in the No-Ah's favor. Sadly, the Iathavos proved to much for Ev-Ri and he was thus slain. Ev-En, the eldest of the living Earth No-Ah, immediately ascended and in a fit of righteous fury; felled the qlippoth with a single devastating punch. Channeling his power in this fashion however, would obliterate his right-arm, an eternal reminder of the costs of the No-Ah mission. Though the No-Ah would ultimately prevail and disperse Isph-Aun-Vuln's mortal armies. Ev-En knows that it is only a matter of time before she rallies her forces again. Thus much of his time in recent history has been spent fortifying the now billions of No-Ah Arks and bolstering his people's military power, all in preparation for the inevitable war which will no doubt span entire galaxies.

Grand Elder Ev-En CR 26/MR 10 No-Ah constructed pugilist brawler 10/ hexbreaker armored battlemage magus 10 LN huge construct (earth, living machine, mythic) Init +5, Senses darkvision 60 ft, low-light vision AC 36, touch 13, flat-footed 31 (+9 Armor, +5 Dex, +12 Nat. Armor, +2 Shield*, -2 Size) *This bonus assumes Ev-En is wielding his constructed limb with the Shielding Limb modification) hp 423 (10d8+10d10+243) Fort +16, Ref +13, Will +13 Defensive Abilities armor training 2, armor master (light, medium, & heavy armor), block attacks, construct traits, earth protection, fortification (50%, 75% w/ secured armor), living machine, medium armor, heavy armor, restore vitality, take a hit; DR 13/epic Speed 15 ft Melee Attacks unarmed strike +21/+16/+11/+6 (4d8+14); or +5 stone constructed limb +26/+21/+16/+11 (4d8+19/x3); or brawler's flurry +24/+19/+14/+10/+19/+14 (4d8+19 [+14 for final two strikes}/x3 [x2 for final two strikes]) Special Attacks arcane pool (9), brawler's flurry, brawler's strike (cold iron, magic, silver), close weapon mastery, constructed limb, fighter training, knockout 2/day, knowledge pool, limb modifications (flex limb, limb extender, shielding limb, tight grip, vicious spikes), magus arcana (improved remove curse, wracking dispel), maneuver training (Disarm +2, Grapple +1), mythic power (10/day, surge 1d12), mythic magic (3/day), preserve life (200 ft), powerful blows (unarmed strike), spark of genesis, spellstrike, versatile modifications, unarmed strike (4d8+5) Space and Reach 15 ft, 15 ft Magus Spells Known (CL 10, Concentration +15) 0 Level (5/day) - Acid Splash, Arcane Mark, Dancing Lights, Daze, Detect Fiendish Presence, Detect Magic, Disrupt Undead, Flare, Ghost Sound, Grasp, Light, Mage hand, Open/Close, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic, Spark 1st level (7/day) - Abjuring Step, Blade Lash, Blade Tutor's Spirit, Call Weapon, Celestial Healing, Corrosive Touch, Desperate Weapon, Duelist's Parry, Enlarge Person, Expedious Retreat, Fallback Strategy, Feather Fall, Glue Seal, Grease, Jump, Jury-Rig, Lighten Object, Linebreaker, Line in The Sand, Long Arm, Magic Missile (M), Magic Weapon, Mirror Strike, Monkey Fish, Mudball, Obscuring Mist, Reduce Person, Reinforce Armaments, Shield, Shock Shield, Stone Fist, Sunder Breaker, Sundering Shards, Swift Girding, Thunderstomp, True Strike, Unerring Weapon, Unseen Servant, Vigor, Wave Shield, Warding Weapon, Weaponwand, Web Bolt 2nd Level (5/day) - Ablative Barrier, Acid Arrow, Alacrity, Alter Self, Animal Aspect, Aristocrat's Nightmare, Armor Lock, Bear's Endurance, Bladed Dash, Bull's Strength, Cat's Grace, Cauterizing Weapon, Communal Reinforce Armaments, Contest of Skill, Diminish Resistance, Effortless Armor, Elemental Touch, Erode Defenses, Escaping Ward, Euphoric Cloud, Extreme Flexibility, Fleeting Defect, Fog Cloud, Force Anchor, Glitterdust, Groundswell, Hollow Blades, Huntmaster's Spear, Instant Weapon, Levitate, Molten Orb, Pouncing Fury, Quick Throwing, Raven's Flight, Reloading Hands, Rock Whip, Savage Maw, Slick Walls, Shield of Shards, Spider Climb (M), Splinter Spell Resistance, Stone Call, Stone Discus, Stone Shield, Stone Throwing, Storm of Blades, Telekinetic Assembly, Telekinetic Volley, Visualization of the Body, Web, Winged Sword 3rd Level (4/day) - Air Breathing, Allied Cloak, Beast Shape I, Blade Snare, Blink, Burst of Speed, Caustic Safeguard, Channel Vigor, Clay Skin, Cloak of Winds, Conjuration Foil, Conjure Carriage, Discharge, Dispel Magic (M), Earth Tremor, Elemental Aura, Fly, Forced Mutation, Gloomblind Bolts, Grasping Tentacles, Greater Animal Aspect, Greater Magic Weapon (M), Greater Thunderstomp, Haste (M), Heart of the Metal, Infuse Self, Iron Spine, Irradiate, Keen Edge, Mark of Buoyancy, Monstrous Physique I, Nauseating Trail, Phantom Steed, Remove Curse, Resilient Reservoir, Scales of Deflection, Sickening Strikes, Silver Darts, Slow (M), Spellsword, Steal Size, Stinking Cloud, Tactical Adaptation, Titanic Anchoring, Toxic Blood, Versatile Weapon, Vomit Twin, Water Breathing, Waves of Blood 4th Level (2/day) - Absorb Rune I, Adjustable Polymorph, Arcana Theft, Beast Shape II, Black Tentacles (M), Blightburn Weapon, Caustic Blood, Break Enchantment (M), Detonate, Dragon's Breath, Elemental Body (M), Ethereal Fists, Fey Form I, Greater Celestial Healing, Lend Path, Mass Enlarge Person, Mass Reduce Person, Monstrous Physique II, Naga Shape I, Pellet Blast, Poisonous Cloud, Revenant Armor, Rigor Mortis, Rubberskin, Solid Fog, Stoneskin (M), Telekinetic Maneuver, Temporary Graft, Vermin Shape I, Ward Shield, Wreath of Blades Str 22, Dex 20, Con 20, Int 20, Wis 20, Cha 15 Base Atk +17, CMB +24, CMD 27 Feats big game hunter, bodyguard, combat casting, combat reflexes (M), craft magic arms and armor, craft technological arms and armor, create weapon, create magic weapon, imposing bearing (B), improved unarmed strike (B,M), mythic spell lore (M), poised bearing (B), secured armor (B), spell focus (abjuration) (M), technologist, titan strike (M), toughness Skills Acrobatics +28, Craft (alchemy) +15, Craft (armor) + 25, Craft (engineering) +15, Craft (mechanical) +15, Craft (ships) +25, Craft (stonemasonry) +28, Craft (weapons) +28, Knowledge (arcana) +28, Knowledge (engineering) +15, Knowledge (geography) +15, Knowledge (nature) +25, Knowledge (Planes) +28, Profession (soldier) +18, Spellcraft +28, Use Magic Device +20; Racial Modifiers -4 Fly, -8 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Aquan, Auran, Celestial, Ignan, Infernal, Protean, Terran SQ armed and ready, birth progeny, brawler's cunning, deific, incremental growth, martial training Equipment Artisan's Tools, 100 bullets, 4 Mwk Mithril Daggers, Mwk Mithril Shortsword, Spell Component Pouch, +1 Vigilant Expedious Impervious Adamantine Spiked Stone Plate Special Abilities Armed and Ready (Ex): Whenever Ev-En creates his constructed limb with the Create Weapon feat, the limb is automatically attached to him. It still requires 10 minutes to remove it as normal. Restore Vitality (Ex): Grand Elder Ev-En may spend a point of mythic power to remove all negative levels from himself. Even if those negative levels could not otherwise be removed. Versatile Modifications (Ex): If Grand Elder Ev-En's constructed limb was made using his Create Weapon feat; as a swift action, he may spend up to 5 points of mythic power to change one of it's limb modifications per point spent for 1 minute. This constructed limb may have the vicious blades and vicious spikes modifications simultaneously. The shield bonus from shielding limb stacks with any other shield bonuses Ev-En has. In addition; Ev-En may instead exchange a modification for a magic weapon special ability appropriate for the limb's enhancement bonus. This is a transmutation Effect.

---

You Can Read More About the No-Ah Here No-Ah Alternate Traits No-Ah Feats

--

I realize most npc stat blocks usually only have the spells listed that the character is most likely to have prepared, but I have no way of narrowing that down, so I recommend just using him like a spontaneous caster and only bothering to decide his prepared spells when the players need that information.

Edit: I forgot some bits.

@dailycharacteroption @bogleech

[flaming-potato-arson]

Rest Stop Part 5

Lance hadn’t broken down crying yet.

Needing to survive on your own did that to a person. Or, you know, the exact opposite. But Lance had gone nearly 17 years without someone finding out he was wingless. He was a master at delaying the inevitable.

He had already found a stream, collected shells, and used them as jars for the water to distract himself.

Hence why he was multiple stories up in a tree.

Well, there was fruit up here. That was part of the reason. Diverse trees sprouted up to the sky, the thickest wider than Blue herself and the thinnest the width of his pupil. It had felt like it was made of stone, but the fruit growing high, high above convinced him it was not. He had picked this tree mainly for it’s trunk. It was solid and thick, but he could securely wrap his arms and legs around it. Spikes adorned the bottom of the fruit, an armor for the flesh, but not the top. There weren’t many branches, so he’d be relying heavily on the trunk and the strength climbing had given his core over the years.

“Oof” Lance’s hand had scrambled to hold on to the bark of the trunk so he didn’t fall off the branch. It had been just high enough for him to have to launch himself at it. Huffing air through his nose tiredly, Lance worked himself into a standing position. Already, the greens of the leaves where shifting with the light. He grinned. There was the satisfaction, the freedom, the breathlessness he had been waiting for.

Now, who-knows-how-many miles up in a tree, he was kinda breathless. Groaning, he reached back further. His legs flexed reflexively when his back muscles shifted to stretch lower. Tighter than a New York subway system, Lance held on to the tree trunk with his legs and arched his back to hang upside down. Every part of him was tense with concentration, the open air under him making the drop apparent. His hair swayed minutely with the movement. Teasingly, the fruit hung just out of his reach, the smooth part clouded with pastel orange. He pushed a little harder towards his goal and nudged the fruit.

Yes!

Plucking it decisively, he swept himself up into a sitting position, stomach aching with the sudden sit up. The air up here was cool and misty, and he breathed it in to make up for the burn. Shades of green spilled over the trees, splotches of purple and orange breaking it up without taking aesthetic. Up here in the treetops, alone, Lance doesn’t have to think about wings or the ocean that wants to spit him out. Climbing was cold, hard work. It was dull and adventurous, the sensations calm and dim, but the heights and movement invigorating. Stretching from place to place, a deadly drop below him, clinging to a bigger mass were all things that made Lance feel alive. The ocean may have been motherly, a supportive hand guiding him down the path, but climbing was the ravine he had to overcome in the middle of the path.

Carefully, he scrapes off the spikes, ignoring the weird crackling sound coming from the fruit. A light blue skin was left behind. Holding the stem with his teeth, Lance shrugs off his jacket and ties it into a basket on a tiny limb above him. He puts the fruit securely inside. Warm, bright light hums under his tan bare skin. He’ll have to be careful to not scratch himself up too much without his jacket as protection. Leaning back, he sighs. The next piece of fruit isn’t too far away, but the sparse amount of thick branches he can stand on make it a balancing act. An act that requires endurance and focus.

He grins.

His favorite kind of act.

Lance doesn’t like the disappearing act he has to play.

Dragging a stick with giant leaves tied to the ends, he sweeps it side to side behind him. The steady trail of footprints vanish back into smooth sand with each swipe. Tides dance back and forth, swishing up and away, exceling the roar of the ocean across the water to the shore. The lonely, near empty shore.

But it’s an act he has to play. Vanishing into thin air without the lift of a feather. Ironic, but safe. The act of love (if he could have called it that in the first place) pouring into hate. The counteract of lifting a shield. He doesn’t have wings, doesn’t have a spotlight on stage. He’s just running around in the darkness, bumping into the other actors and props, the audience watching in sick monotone from his shadows. It’s best to just take him out all together. It wasn’t like he was good for much anyway.

Every hide and hair of him needs to be hidden, out of sight, out of danger. Like the tides washing up against the sand, taking away the evidence of everything ever there. Hunk’s brotherly smiles wouldn’t exist for him anymore. Shiro’s nudges and parental lectures wouldn’t make him groan dramatically. Allura’s commands in battle wouldn’t fill his helmet. He’d miss Pidge being a gremlin but simultaneously sweet girl who let him borrow her headphones. Coran wouldn’t tell him anymore stories. He’d never know Matt or Samuel Holt. He doesn’t even want to think about the tight bud of affection for Keith. That bomb was being shoved underwater for today. For forever, hopefully. Washing it all away. Like the sand and waves.

But he’s alone.

Even though they know he’s somewhere here, they don’t know where. That’s something to Lance at least.

But he’s alone. So he does what he always does when he’s alone.

Says fuck everything and starts to play.

This time, he’s dancing. Spinning, forgetting, ignoring, feeling, singing, whooping. He’s switching lyrics and rhythms, drawing them out in the sand, little bits and pieces of his heart.

-the devil in me-

He sways so he can savor the feeling, so he can write it out clearly.

-at my worst-

He steps on it and doesn’t care.

-elastic heart-

He trips. Laughs.

-I feel when you’re next to me-

Dances.

Dances.

And dances.

By the time he’s done, his stomach is grumbling for the crisp fruit in his cove, the damp sand is littered with words and footprints and designs, and grimy wet sand cakes his jeans and skin.

He should swipe it all away. Make it disappear.

Nah.

The tides will come racing up in the night and sweep it all away. Sweep it all away like him. He’ll come back tomorrow, see if it’s gone and possibly do it again.

When he dives in the ocean, his stomach is growling, his eyes and hands switch over, he’s covered in silt, and his heart finally isn’t such a hallow canal.

It’s torture.

The silence. The cold. The worry. The humming of healing pods. The hurt.

Keith hates it.

The (un)whole team had been holed up in the living room nest for the two nights and two days Lance had been gone. Two nights and two days since they had found out he was wingless. Two nights and two days since his mind had started to question Lance’s trust in him. Two nights and two days since the hurt had started to gnaw at him. Two nights and two days since Keith had lost the light of his life.

Okay, maybe that’s dramatic, but without the human light bulb known as Lance, the castle was dim and subdued. Guilt and remorse weren’t though. They burned hot and bright.

None of them had ever even met a wingless before. They were rare to begin with, then the horrible treatment they called life...

Keith was suprised Lance was alive.

And there was another reason.

Suprised.

He was suprised.

He had missed every sign, every note, every craving, every regret, every fear, in Lance.

All of it.

The thought hadn't crossed his mind, hadn’t even been a possibility, that Lance simply didn’t have wings. That he hid. That he didn’t have wings to wash, or feathers to fly.

That no matter what he wanted, he couldn’t approach them, not with the way he must of thought they’d treat him. Must have been conditioned to think.

Months of kind words and nice touches do not make up for life time without them.

And Keith can get it, he really can, having hoped around foster homes and orphanages and schools. He’s felt like he couldn’t approach people. When Voltron first started, he had no idea who to talk to outside of Shiro, and that was another bag of tangled yarn. But he was always a differently shaped puzzle piece because he was an orphan, because he didn’t understand, because he felt uncomfortable.

But those people didn’t carry him to healing pods or fight in a giant-man-lion robot together. Didn’t practice together, didn’t train together, didn’t live and laugh and lose little pieces of themselves to this war together. He can get the feeling and he can fathom reasons why, but he can’t apply them.

Not to Voltron. Much less himself.

It hurts, little knives wedged in his chest, poking a little further every time Keith thinks about all the times Lance would shy away and cover it up loudly. Lance was always there for them. Ready to take a bullet or a knife for anyone. But he was the same person who’d looked at Keith with nothing more than fear in his eyes after bursting out of the waves onto gritty sand, back bare.

The person who’d ran away from him the moment his secret got out. The secret Keith didn’t think of. Little fights and playful shoves. Loudly beating hearts. Late night talks and finding each other passed out on the couch. Screaming down the halls, running after the other.  Things Lance thought would disappear when his back appeared.  But why would they?

Keith thought they were trustworthy of something like this.

They protect each other’s lives daily. What’s a pair of wings got to do with it?

At the same time, he knows. Knows that he doesn’t know enough, that the hurt laced in his mind was warping his rationality. Keith can understand a lot of things, even with his judgement out of whack.

But being wingless?

He can’t. Lance couldn't bring himself to tell them, hid it so hard and isolated parts of himself from them, from everyone. Keith wished he hadn’t, not from him.

He’s always had the sky. He’s not wingless.

Lance had people there physically, people who’d touch him and people who’d hurt him, but they weren’t there for him. Just silhouettes in his life.  

Days ago, he had wanted Lance to fill the space in the nest.

This morning, he wanted to fill the space in Lance’s heart like the half-gone footprints and words written in the sand.

Lance splashed into the ocean.

The sky was a stirred up grey, a color out of a witch’s pot, rain threatening to fall sometime in the nearby future.  Bobbing on his back, Lance tilts back to look up at the sky, the cool wind chaffing him dry. Clouds of sand trail from where his toes almost reach the ground, mirroring the sky above. He’s lazily pivoting off the ground, almost sitting in the water, staring at the clouds above him. Clouds were perfect to look at and space out while doing it and not feel completely alone.

Most days were hot on his little island, so he wore his jacket wrapped around his waist while he swam. Then, when he’d crawl out, he could put it on and stay cool easier. The sleeves billowed up against his stomach now.

Closing his eyes, he lets he second pair blink into place, his ear covering slipping over his ears, and the webbing between his fingers growing. Sharp little pricks poke his mouth before his jaw adjusts to his new teeth. Breathing out, he opens his eyes and twists to kick off the sandy coast.

He’s only drifted a little when a giant disturbance echoes through the water.

There’s nothing alive on this planet that big. There’s nothing alive-

Against his better judgement, he shots off to the source, water wicking through his hair. It doesn’t get in his eyes for the miles he swims in seconds or when he notices a big, dark shadow above him on the surface. A human shaped shadow.

FUCKING IDIOT-!

“Dumbass! The hell!” Lance exclaims, rising above the surface, arms cradling Keith up away from the water. Blue waves rock and bob them, and Keith’s wings are stretched high above them. One wrong move and they’d be wet. Wet and heavy, would drag him down to the see floor, oxygen betraying him and floating to the surface. “I knew you’d come.” Keith shrugs, seemingly not panicking about the sea water he’s in. Panic is pushing through Lance’s veins, but deep breathes and focus let him grip it by the handle. The team most likely hates him, so why would Keith know he would come? Why should he have come? Would they have baited him out with Keith to beat him lifeless? Did they?

Something soft and bubbly closes around his wrist.

An inflatable he hadn’t noticed in his angry concern was wrapped around Keith’s waist. Connected to it was a smaller one on his wrist.

They did.

“Lance, you need to come with us-”

They hated him enough to try to capture him.

Now that he was searching he could see the team on the grainy, gritty shore not too far away, hidden in the shadows of trees.

Fuck this.

“Fuck this.” He says, pauses to let his eyeteeth push out, and swoops his head to the plastic.

Tearing into the plastic, it pops with little resistance.

He drops Keith, sinking back down into the current, the cold flourishing in his senses. Kicking back, he retreats a few feet, letting the ocean bloom around his eyes. The blue here is prettier, but the intentions are not.

Keith starts to struggle above him, the shadow distorted . Something’s wrong -

The tube was connected.

Rushing back up, Lance pushes Keith out of the water, legs spinning for extra strength. Soaked feathers drape against his arms and get in his mouth. The taste of foreign salt and pillow fluff fills his mouth. Fear eats Keith’s face, terrified frown sharp against his expressive eyes. The grip on Lance’s arms leaves his knuckles white. His legs trail in the water beneath him and Lance tries not to groan with how heavy he is.

Then, hands are reaching down and pulling Keith up, supporting him, flying away with him. Shiro and Hunk are looping hands under his arms, Pidge’s arms are snaked around his side, Matt’s on his other, Allura and Coran are grabbing his waist, right above Lance’s arms. Grunts and groans echo from the team as they struggle to fly upwards, away from the death rippling below. Stupidly, Keith refuses to reach up and let go of Lance.

Plucking him right out of the sea.

“Hey! Let me go!” He shouts, wriggling against Keith, then rocking his arms. “Never!” Keith yells back, clenching his fists so hard Lance can feel his bones being squeezed. Erratic breaths puff past his lips, his knees clicking in and out of place. He tries harder to shake out of the hold, adrenaline lacing his veins. Hunk’s free hand shoots out and clasped his shoulder, trapping him further. Ear-splitting screams leave his mouth, wordless.

Not fearless.

He gasps, other hands grabbing his body, forcing him still. Without his struggling, the emergency flight that ends up as a crash landing into wet sand goes as a smooth blur. A mess of limbs is what they’re reduced to. Keith lets his forearms go at some point. Lance tries to roll away from the pile of ex-friends.

“OOOOOOHHHHH!” Howling screeches attack his ears, his ear covering pulling back in surprise as Keith descends upon him. “AH!” Rough hands brawl against Lance. Anger radiates off them. Two knees are digging into his sides. Sweat streaks their faces. Lance tries to punch Keith, but he catches the swing. With a fast spin of colors, he’s flipped on his back. Coarse sand sticks to his face. He tries to buck backwards. With a grunt, Keith straddles his back, one hand pulling his wrists back and the other pushing his head down.

The small of his back is prominently empty.

Lance squints his eyes together, trying to keep the tears in and the sand out.

An animalistic scream runs his throat raw.

“Let me go!” It’s almost lost in the guttural letters.

“NO!”

“Don’t kill me, leave me alone-”

His arms spring forward with a thud. “Lance?” is barely more than a whisper.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

His breathing starts to slow.

The hands pull back.

Wet hair drips on the small of his back.

Where his wings would be.

Should be.

Slowly, more wet hair starts to slather his back with salty sea brine. Pidge huddles close under his arm, Matt shadowing over her. Hunk’s short hair and headband take up the space between Keith and Pidge, his legs resting on Lance’s. Coran forces himself between Shiro and Keith, and Allura snorts before curling up and taking his arm.

He’s not sure how long they lay there, silently breathing, covered in sand.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t think I’m the filthiest scum of the Earth?”

“We couldn’t if we tried.” Hunk admonishes, rubbing circles into his skin. “You’ve been a vital part of the team since day one. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“We need our sharpshooter. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have wings.” Shiro adds in. “We’re family, Lance. Your body doesn’t exclude you.”

“Even though it has some freakishly cool features.” Pidge reaches up his arm to play with the blue webbing between his fingers.

“Two sets of eyelids, an ear flap,  and retractable, sharp teeth.  My knees click in and out, so they aren’t always a joint. Webbed fingers.” He agrees.

“Besides” Keith snuggles into his back “ I have no idea how someone could hate you for your back. It’s smooth, and really warm.” He sighs out tiredly.

Lance doesn’t know how to reply to that.

“Lance, the team quite literally almost fell apart without you. “ Allura says. Lance turns his head to meet her eyes.

“We need you back at the castle, Lance.” Coran smiles.

It’s okay.

They want him.

And he’s always wanted them.

“Okay.” he breathes.

Two beats of silence are filled with smiling from his space family.

“Alright, my back’s starting to ache.” Pidge complains, pushing Matt back to stretch out her wings. The cuddle pile disengages with that, everyone taking their time to pull away.  All except Keith.

“Keith?” Lance asks, sitting up. His hips are still trapped, so he mimics a seal. Keith had sat up, but he’s still on top of him. The rest of the team was heading back, leaving him helpless. Lance swore Shiro had a little grin on his face as he walked away.

“Don’t you ever run away again.” It’s dark and demanding. A trace of past distress leaks into it. “ I thought you trusted us. Even though you never showed up for group preening or cuddling or flying, I thought you felt supported by us, enough to tell us if something was wrong or you wanted comfort. At least me.” Sadness dulled through the last words.

“Oh, Keith-” He frantically swivels his head to get a better look at Keith. “Done. And I do trust you. If it came down between you or Shiro fighting for my life I’d pick you. I’d pick you for everything. Being wingless and alive though, it’s not safe or simple. I was holed up in my family’s attic for years. The Garrison was my first real social experience. I didn’t know how anyone - you’d react. I was scared.”

“You don’t have to be scared of me.”

“I know.”

“You’d pick me for everything?”

“Yeah. Go ahead, ask.” A warm flower of affection blooms under his heart for this boy. The fear nulling it with brackish water had drained away and it was just as persistent as it had always been.

“Brother?” Keith blurts out.

“Not sure how that’d work, but sure.”

“The person who yanked you out of a cave?”

“I’d think I be worried if it was someone else.”

“Room mate?”

”Hunk snores like crazy, please.”

“Boyfriend?”

Lance tilts back to slot their mouths together.

[freyayuki]

Final Fantasy Record Keeper Japan Glory Festival Luck of the Realms Banners

When I first started playing the Japanese version of the Final Fantasy Record Keeper (#ad) (FFRK) mobile game, the Luck of the Realms (LotR) or Realms on Parade (RoP) relic draws were currently ongoing. 

This was meant to count down to the upcoming Glory Festival 2020 event. Each day, a new relic draw for each of the Final Fantasy realms from I - XV as well as Tactics and Type-0 will be released.

These draws cost 5 mythril (FFRK’s pulling currency) each. You can only pull once on each banner. You’ll get 3 relics (armors or weapons) per pull. One of these relics is guaranteed to be of 5-star rarity or higher.

I’ve already pulled on a few of these banners when I was really knew. However, I chose not to draw on all of them yet since I wanted to focus on pulling on the Fat Black Chocobo: A Blazing Forgery banner.

This banner features weapons that belong to Genesis Rhapsodos from Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core. Currently, Genesis is my absolute, most favorite Final Fantasy character. He’s the only reason why I’m playing this game. 

Well, now, I’m finally done with that banner. Thankfully, my fave came home. He took hundreds of mythril and days of farming and grinding, but it was all worth it in the end because I managed to obtain all of his currently available relics. Truly, I’m so, so freaking happy and thankful about this. I’ve already talked about this in other posts, so, in this one, let’s focus on the Luck of the Realms banners.

I can’t really expect too much since the game has such crappy rates and there’s no pity system here, unlike in the Dissidia Final Fantasy: Opera Omnia (DFFOO) mobile game. All I can hope for is that I’d be able to get something decent and usable. RNG, please be kind to me. Right then, here goes nothing. 

Note: this isn’t in any order. Just whichever realm I felt like pulling on first.

Final Fantasy VIII

Only 1 disco orb showed up. The 6-star item revealed itself to be Ultimecia’s Ultra Soul Break. This is my first relic for her. Right, lemme just look up more info about this.

What I got was Staff of the Magi (VIII), a Staff-type relic, which gave me Ultimecia’s Ultra Soul Break, Hell's Judgement. It deals magic wind and dark attacks while also temporarily lowering an enemy’s Defense, Resistance, and Mind. It even temporarily reduces the delay of Ultimecia’s actions. Not bad, huh?

Final Fantasy X 

Meh, only 1 rainbow orb showed up, so I already knew I wasn’t getting anything good from this draw. Glorious Armguard (X) is a 5-star rarity, Bracer-type relic that gave me Wakka’s Burst Soul Break, Assault Reels. It deals ranged physical attacks to random targets and temporarily lowers their Attack, Magic, Defense, and Resistance.

This is my first Soul Break for Wakka, and it’s not making me want to recruit him and level him up. It’s so meh. It doesn’t even deal elemental damage, and what’s with the random targets thing? Bleh. Lowering an enemy’s stats is pretty good, but I already have the Full Break ability for that. It’s faster to use an ability as opposed to waiting until I can charge Wakka’s Soul Break gauge to 2 before being able to fire off his Burst. 

Final Fantasy XIII

Only 1 disco orb showed up. Looks like I got an Overstrike Soul Break. I think this belongs to Cid Raines, but not sure. Need to look it up. Before that - ugh, I can’t believe Overstrikes are 6-stars. They’ve been outclassed by better Soul Breaks and they’re now near the bottom of the tier list since they don’t really do anything except deal attacks that can break the damage cap. 

Sure, they only cost 1 Soul Gauge to cast, so they have their uses, but if all I have for a char is their Overstrike, which is the case here, then that’s certainly not making me want to add them to my party. Come on, could I at least get an Ultra, Awakening, or, better yet, a Sync? Eff this game’s trashy rates. 

At least, these pulls only cost me 5 mythril, but that still adds up, you know? I feel like I’m just wasting mythril here. Ah, well at least pulling gives me some Anima Lenses+, which I need to get my fave Genesis’s Hero Ability or Unique Ability.  

Anyway, looks like I was right. I did get Cid Raines’s Overstrike Soul Break. It’s called Shattered Dreams. It came from Oversoul (XIII), a Fist-type relic. This Overstrike deals magic dark and holy damage.

Final Fantasy IX

Come on, please give me something good, please. Argh! Eff this game. Only a rainbow orb showed up, so I know I’m about to get trash yet again.

I got Kuja’s Legend Materia Relic, Ashen Narcissist. It lets Kuja start a fight temporarily infused with the power of the dark. It came from Chosen of Treno (IX), a 5-star rarity, Light Armor-type relic. Since this is my first and, so far, only relic for Kuja, it’s useless.  

Final Fantasy Type-0

Ugh, I’m running out of mythril again with nothing good to make up for the lost resources. I’d ask how I talked myself into doing these pulls, but I already know the answer to that. It’s because I’m hoping to get even just 1 Sync since that’s currently the best kind of Soul Break in this game.

Anyway, a disco orb showed up, and, it turned out to be Seven’s Arcane Overstrike Soul Break, Drainlash. It deals magic ice attacks that can break the damage cap. It came from Knight's Whipblade (Type-0), a 6-star rarity, Whip-type relic.

Arcane Overstrikes are better than Overstrikes, but they’re still meh, especially if they’re your only relic for a character. These things can only be used once and they cost a whopping 3 bars to activate. They’re similar to Overstrikes in that they do nothing but deal damage.

Since I’m so new to the Japanese version of FFRK, this is my first relic for Seven. In short, I can’t use this or Seven right now.

Final Fantasy VI

This pull gave me Mog’s Glint+ Soul Break. These don’t cost anything to activate, but they’re useless unless you have other Soul Breaks for the character in question. 

Well, exceptions can be made if we’re talking about Glints that belong to characters like Elarra (from Final Fantasy Record Keeper) and Aeris or Aerith Gainsborough (from Final Fantasy VII). They’re primarily healers, and they usually get a Glint+ that grants the entire party Protect (raises Defense), Shell (raises Resistance), and Haste (make the chars move faster). 

These buffs last for the entire duration of a battle unless they’re dispelled. With this kind of Glint+, you can drop the Hastega, Protectga, and Shellga abilities, allowing you to bring other skills. In my English account, I only have 1 Glint+ with the above effect - Elarra’s Magika Amuletum. It’s awesome, and I wish I have it, Aerith’s Glint+ or a similar one in my Japanese account. Because, yeah, right now, I’m still stuck having to bring the aforementioned abilities.

Anyway, lemme just go look up more info about Mog’s Glint+. Even in my English account, I don’t have a single one of his relics, so I know nothing about this. His Glint+ came from War Trumpet (VI), a 6-star rarity, Instrument-type relic.

The Glint+ is called Guardian Symphony, and it - welp, I can’t believe this. Look what it does: 

“Grant all allies Protect, Shell, and a barrier that negates attack damage up to 30% of their max HP. Triggers instantly and does not deplete the Soul Break gauge.”

Was definitely not expecting this at all. Am slightly appeased even though I didn’t get a Sync, Awakening, or Ultra. This draw wasn’t so bad after all. It’s just too bad that Guardian Symphony doesn’t include Haste though the barrier is pretty useful as well. Now I gotta go level up Mog and ponder who he’s gonna replace in my current party. 

Ah, I wish I had another Soul Break for him, so he isn’t just gonna exist to cast his Glint+ then be deadweight for the rest of the battle. Hmm, I think he can equip healing abilities, so he could act as my healer. But I already have Elarra for that. I also only have 1 Soul Break for her, but it’s one of the best ones. What I’ve got is her Ultra Soul Break, Magika Album. This activates instantly, heals the party, reduces delay of their actions for 2 turns, and grants them Regenga.  

Final Fantasy V

Got another disco orb, which soon revealed itself to be Bartz Klauser’s Glint+ Soul Break. There’s no way this is one of the ones that grants the party Protect, Shell, and Haste because Bartz is a damage dealer. Which means this is useless to me right now since I have nothing else for him.

The Glint+ is called Quest of the Four, and it came from Behemoth Knife (V), a 6-star rarity, Dagger-type relic. It temporarily grants Bartz Empowered Infusion for wind and fills up his Soul Break gauge by 1 bar. Could have been of use if I had some other Soul Break of his to activate after this one. 

Ugh, this is getting frustrating. I haven’t gotten even a single Awakening. I still feel like I’m just throwing all my mythril away for nothing. Okay, it’s not nothing. At the very least, I’m acquiring some much-needed Anima Lenses+. Right, lemme just go check how much I have right now. Currently, I have 153 Anima Lenses+. IIRC, I need 250, so still a long way to go. Honestly, I doubt pulling on the remaining Luck of the Realms banners will get me to 200, much less 250.   

Final Fantasy Tactics

Yet another disco orb, which turned out to be Ramza Beoulve’s Chain Soul Break, Flutegrass Memories. It came from Diamond Shield (FFT), a 6-star rarity, Shield-type relic. The Chain is for the holy element. It increases the holy damage as well as the Attack stat of the entire party.

Chain Soul Breaks are good since they increase the damage you deal to enemies. In my English account, I have Gilgamesh’s (from Final Fantasy V) fire Chain. Here in my Japanese account, I have Balthier’s (Ffamran mied Bunansa from Final Fantasy XII) fire Chain. 

I have a few other Chains as well, but fire is what’s most important to me since this is my fave Genesis’s primary element. I don’t mind getting a Chain for a different element, but Ramza’s Flutegrass Memories is useless to me right now since I have zero holy relics.

Final Fantasy XII

Argh, I’m running out of mythril, but haven’t obtained even a single Awakening or a Sync. Eff this game. So freaking frustrating. Why am I here again? Oh, right, yeah - Genesis. I’m here because he’s here.  

Anyway, got another disco orb, which soon turned into yet another Arcane Overstrike Soul Break. Not sure who this belongs to though. Maybe Basch fon Ronsenburg? Hard to tell since the chars are so tiny and pixelated. Right, lemme go check.

Looks like I was right. It is Basch’s Arcane Overstrike Soul Break, Starfire Purge. It deals physical fire, holy, and dark attacks that can break the damage cap, and it came from Dragon Shield (XII), a 6-star rarity, Shield-type relic.

Final Fantasy III

Oh, come on, please, can’t you give me something useful? Enough with the Arcane Overstrikes and other useless Soul Breaks. At least give me an Ultra Soul Break since those only cost 2 gauges and can be used as many times as you want as long as you have the required bars to do so. 

So 1 rainbow orb and 1 disco orb showed up. But so what? Both are probably gonna be trash anyway. Sigh. Sometimes, this game can be so depressing. Let’s just get this over with already.   

The rainbow orb turned into a Burst Soul Break though I have no idea who this belongs to. After looking it up, I found that what I got was Bizarre Staff (III), a 5-star rarity, Staff-type relic which contains the Cloud of Darkness’s Burst Soul Break, 0-Form Particle Beam.   

It deals magic dark and non-elemental attacks to all enemies, temporarily raises the Magic and Mind of all allies, and gives them the Doom debuff. AFAIK, Doom will instantly kill whoever’s been hit with it after a certain number of turns passes. I think there are some moves that benefit from having the Doom debuff though I don’t know too much about this since I don’t use this kind of strategy at all.

As for the disco orb - oh, yes! Just got my first Awakening. Yay! The disco orb turned into Stardust Rod (III), a 6-star rarity, Rod-type relic that gave me Onion Knight’s Awakened Arcane Soul Break, Arcane Potential. It deals magic wind, water, fire, earth, and non-elemental attacks, temporarily raises the party’s Magic and Resistance, and temporarily grants Onion Knight Awoken Black Magic Mode, which gives him unlimited uses of Black Magic abilities. 

Awakenings are second only to Syncs. Super pleased to get my first Awakening from one of these banners. Maybe the next pull will give me a Sync or another Awakening.

Final Fantasy II

Meh, so much for hoping for a Sync to show up. The lone disco orb turned into an Ultra Soul Break. Not sure who it belongs to though. Gonna need to look it up. Hopefully, this one has some good effects.

Tiger Fangs (II) is a 6-star rarity, Fist-type relic that gave me Josef’s Ultra Soul Break, Hero's Smash. It deals physical ice and non-elemental attacks, temporarily lowers an enemy’s ice resistance level (also known as Imperil), infuses Josef with the power of ice, reduces delay of his actions for 3 turns, and temporarily give the party a barrier that reflects a portion of damage. Not bad at all.

Final Fantasy I

Argh, are you freaking kidding me right now? Got another disco orb that became yet another Arcane Overstrike Soul Break. Eff this game and these useless relics. Right, lemme just edit out all these curse words. Also need to look up who owns this thing.

Ugh, what a pain. All I could find was that this Soul Break belongs to Wol. There’s no info in English about this though. Maybe it hasn’t been released in the Global version. Ah, well, too bad.   

Final Fantasy XI

Decided to skip the Final Fantasy XI Luck of the Realms banner since I didn’t see a single Sync in the relics list. I know it’s basically impossible to get one anyway, but I’d at least like the illusion of hope that you could get one. 

Considering my mostly crappy draw results, I’m really not inclined to keep pulling. I feel like I’m just throwing away all my mythril for nothing. I’m fast running out of resources, so it’s definitely time to stop this madness.

Also, LOL, I went from 150+ Anima Lenses+ to 168. Just as I suspected, didn’t even get enough to reach 200. Eff this game. 

Final Fantasy Record Keeper Daily Free Draw

Each day, FFRK lets you do one free draw. You can only get 1 item from this pull, and it’s almost always useless trash. It’s possible to get 5-star or higher rarity items here, but it’s very, very rare.

From one of my daily free draws, a rainbow orb showed up. This turned out to be Mutsunokami (VI), a 5-star rarity, Katana-type relic which gave me Cyan Garamonde’s Super Soul Break, Bushido Sky. 

It deals 4 physical attacks and grants the party a barrier that enables them to avoid one magic attack. It’s meh, but the barrier thing isn’t that bad.

Conclusion

Overall, I hated these pulls. Feels like such a waste. Couldn’t even get a single Sync. Why are the rates so freaking low? This game needs higher and better rates, not to mention a pity system.  

Notes:

pics are from Amazon.com; links shown above

screenshots are from my Final Fantasy Record Keeper Japanese game account

[lynnas-migraine-paradise]

AYO CHECK IT

Mechanized Memories, one of the most banger songs from AC5. I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE AUGUST GUHHH. Pained.