#Fjord would have just given him the ship but Tealeaf would not have found that as fun as stealing it

[maskeddevera]

Okay, I'll bite, especially because I'm not seeing a lot of fans discussing these thoughts...Kingsley, minus a few feelings and vague memories, hasn't done anything that wouldn't fit with a Mollymauk with most of his memories removed. Kingsley could easily be a Mollymauk mostly rebooted back to when he woke up before he met the circus...just like Caduceus asked to put the soul back as it was.

How much of your identity is from your memories, and how much of your identity is from muscle memory (juggling), and how much of your identity is from your heart/"soul"?

A true character analysis would deserve a lot more than what I'm currently going to say, but just a few points:

1) Mollymauk woke up saying "empty" for a few weeks. So did Kingsley (until the restoration spell seemed to accelerate the process).

2) Mollymauk never recognized that who he was before he "woke up" was him. He was obstinate and irrational about denying the identity that came before his current existence even when old memories surfaced.

3) One of the first things that The Mighty Nein said to their newly revived purple tiefling is that they suggested that maybe he might want to change his name...which he promptly did once he woke up out of his fugue state. (Side note, that was actually a good move on their part...Mollymauk was never truly his name...per Taliesin on the Talks Machina for c2e14, Gustav named him Mollymauk. Taliesin said, "He didn't choose his name. It was chosen for him." Kingsley at least was allowed to choose his own name.)

4) Mollymauk was obsessed with looking fashionable/stylish and modeled his fashion off of the first people who took him in. Kingsley did the same.

5) Kingsley appears to have residual feelings about The Mighty Nein that mirror Mollymauk's feelings for them.

6) Mollymauk was very extra, indulged to excess, and was joyful but also sarcastic and judgemental of others. Kingsley's personality mirrors Mollymauk's personality.

6) Mollymauk was a con artist, but he always said to himself that he was a con artist but not in a mean way. He tried to convince himself he wasn't hurting anyone. Kingsley will apparently figure out an elaborate con to steal a boat and abandon Fjord in order to join the Revelry, no doubt while also gathering a cult of personality around him like he does. He will be "a pirate, but not the worst." A good con artist. A pirate, but not the worst.

The nature of this character remains the same. This character was always about waking up with only vague memories and starting almost completely anew.

"It's not the best thing that happened to me; it's the thing that happened to me. I found peace in building a new person." -Mollymauk, "Fleeting Memories" (Episode 14)

[thornfield13713]

Molly/Caleb soulmate AU? Since you’re not far enough in to know about Zuala. Caleb is using a false name if you want to use the names version.

...I had, in fact, been spoiled about Caleb’s original given name. But I had not previously said so, and I had asked to avoid spoilers. This is a very minor one, and vague enough to not count for much, so I’m not going to hold it against you, but can you avoid this sort of thing in future? And, okay, since you specified the names version-

Soulmate marks can and do change. The name one is born with need not be one’s true name, and while a surface change of alias will not show up on one’s arm, a name that one truly considers one’s own truest name will. Molly and Caleb’s attitudes to this differ. From what spoilers I’ve had, Caleb never expected ‘Caleb’ to be a lasting name for him, and while he has probably stopped thinking of himself as ‘Bren’, the name still holds a great deal of meaning for him. So that is the name that has been on Molly’s arm since long before he crawled out of the earth as a new person. For Caleb...he had Lucien’s name up until about two years ago, when it faded into a silvery scar and he took that to mean Lucien had died. And since he doesn’t change his clothes very often and has the arm-bandages in all his official art which I’m guessing he only takes off in the bath, I don’t think he’d notice when the mark changed to read ‘Mollymauk Tealeaf’ in somewhat worse penmanship. Well, not unless there’s a physical sensation to go with that, but honestly Caleb spends so much of his life in pain of one sort or another that I’m not sure he’d notice that either.

Caleb probably doesn’t find out, then, until the bathhouse at Zadash. At this point, he’s sort of used to not looking at his mark - he knows what’s there, he isn’t going to pay much attention to it, which is how he missed it at the bathhouse in Trostenwald, coupled with the fact that he was wearing an illusion at the time. So Caleb has no idea he’s been wandering around with one of his companions��� names on his arm...right up until Jester spots it at the bathhouse and proceeds to more-or-less explode with glee because...honestly, it’s so romantic! She’s looking for her father, who may or may not be her mother’s soulmate, she’s got hopes of finding a mate of her own somewhere out there...or has already found Fjord, I’m not quite sure whether I ship that or not...and now this has happened. And Jester is a grown woman, but she’s spent most of her life very confined and is still trying to figure out the world and her place in it. And, okay, yes, she’s grown up around sex work and that has shaped a lot of her view of the world, but most of what she’s heard about soulmates has been...idealised. A perfect match, a person who will offer you everything you need. All of which makes it tremendously awkward for the two people who’ve just been dropped into the middle of this narrative, very publicly. Which- I suspect Jester would feel bad about it once it became clear just how not-like-her-books this was going to turn out, but...it’s still done.

For Molly, this is one part really vindicating and one part...really not great timing. There it is, on Caleb’s arm. Mollymauk Tealeaf. Whoever Molly was before, that is not the person Caleb was meant for, Molly is a full person, there isn’t a mystical ‘true name’ out there tying him to a life he has no real attachment to and actively wants nothing to do with...it’s a relief he didn’t realise he was waiting for. But also - who the hell is ‘Bren Aldric Ermendrud’, then? It doesn’t take much to guess ‘Caleb is not using his given name’, but that’s not the only possibility here. One-sided bonds do happen. They are vanishingly rare and always tragic in a way Molly really doesn’t want to reckon with, so he is going to have to talk to Caleb about it. And Caleb...really, really isn’t in a place for this to be anything but platonic yet.

Caleb...is having a breakdown. Just- It’s been the base assumption of his life since he came back to himself in the asylum - Caleb Widogast is an absolutely worthless piece of shit and deserves to suffer and does not deserve anything good. He wasn’t surprised when his soulmate mark faded - ‘Lucien’, whoever he was, didn’t deserve to be saddled with him, or if he did he would have to be an absolute monster. And now it turns out he’s tied to Molly. Molly, who is kinder than he initially appears, undeniably beautiful, can find a way to enjoy life more-or-less anywhere, and whom it is impossible to miss. Even leaving aside Caleb’s self-loathing making him absolutely reluctant to touch this, Molly is the most noticeable member of the Mighty Nein, and Caleb is terrified of attracting attention. So he lies. No, he isn’t Molly’s Bren. No, he isn’t going to presume on their connection. Molly owes him nothing just because his name is on Caleb’s arm, and shouldn’t feel any obligation to be near him, to try and befriend him, to...anything, really. Honestly, Caleb is inches away from bolting this whole time.

Molly dies before they can really resolve this, and Caleb grieves not just for a friend but for the potential of something he was only just beginning to believe it might be possible for him to have, since while Molly isn’t about to force affections on Caleb, he’s very stubborn about having the close platonic friendship part of their soulmate bond, especially as Caleb really, really needs people to remind him he isn’t nearly as monstrous as he feels he is. However, because I have been spoiled for other, much later developments, although without the relevant context...I am just thinking of what it’ll be like, episodes and months and whole plotlines away from where I am now, when Caleb looks down at his forearm, and sees ‘Lucien’ black against his arm again, where Molly’s name had faded into a silvery scar.

[luckyjak]

abandoned fic: Caleb the Time Traveler

I’m not ever going to finish this fic (rest in peace Molly) but I like what I have, so I thought I’d share it with you all. The plan was for it to be an eventual Widomauk piece, but I’m just not inspired to write Widomauk anymore, given that Molly is dead and has been for 2 years now.

In the end, it was all frighteningly simple, really.

Killing Trent had been easy. Most things were for a high powered wizard, which Caleb was at this point in his life. And while disintegration was too quick and too kind of a death for a man who had caused as much pain at Trenk Ikithon had, Caleb didn’t dare try to take any chances.

He would have thought there would be more to it. Maybe the gods themselves would intervene and stop him, or maybe someone else, a mysterious figure from an even worse timeline would try to stop him, but no. One quick spell, and Caleb had altered the timeline for the better.

He sat on his hands for a while after that, not quite sure what to do now that Trent no longer existed and could be the focus of all evil in both the world and in Caleb’s mind. But there was still corruption in the Empire, and there was still darkness, even at the Soltryce Academy. 

So he rolled up his sleeves, and he got to work.

Little by little, he changed the world. By the time a young Bren enrolled at the Academy, it was a legitimate school for magic learners, and the Empire was a brighter, better place. There was an Empress now instead, a distant cousin of King Bertrand, and while she made mistakes occasionally, she had a good heart--of that Caleb was deadly certain. 

After that, he got more selfish in his pursuits. Traveling back to this time had been a one-time deal: he would never go back to his own timeline. Theoretically, such a timeline no longer existed. He would never see his friends again.

Therefore, he did what he could to make their lives better in this timeline.

Bren was taken care of: Bren would have parents and a girlfriend and a boyfriend and hopefully never be any more ambitious than teaching at the Academy for the rest of his days. Honestly, Caleb could hope for nothing more for his younger, alternate self. 

But the rest of the Mighty Nein? He did what he could, for them and their happiness.

He couldn’t stop Fjord from being bullied or from being an orphan, but he could modify Vandren’s memory and make him think he was Fjord’s biological father. It was a lie, but a small one, and it ultimately made both men’s lives better. In Caleb’s world, that was a lie worth telling, a spell worth casting. From there, it took only the wise words of a “friend” to encourage Vandren to give up on the orbs for Ukatoa, and to take an interest in his young son instead. A gentle nudge, a small trade of coin, and the Tide’s Breath would find it’s port in Nicodronas instead of Port Damali instead. Another nudge, another slight but gentle push, and a young Fjord would find himself drawn into long midnight conversations with the mysterious Sapphire of the Sea, standing beneath the window to the Lavish Chateau one evening when he could not sleep, and neither could she. They would become fast friends, and while Caleb could not fix all the world’s problems, he could make sure that two of his friends were no longer lonely. 

He could only help Jester so much: he respected Marion too much to modify her memories, and no silver tongue could convince the woman to let her daughter have just a bit more freedom. So he sent Fjord her way instead, and before that, when she was younger, Caleb would visit her, often, under the guise of night and with a heavy cloak of magic. It was a small thing, keeping a young girl company, and he liked the tricks and jokes she learned to play from him. If she happened to call him the Traveler--well, that was her name for him, not his. As far as the actual Traveler was concerned, he must have found it amusing, because Jester still became a cleric in the end. When she ran away from Nicodronas, Fjord’s father offered her a job on his ship, and she learned all she needed to from a Tortle named Orly. 

Beauregard was a trickier friend to help: he could not make her parents into better people, nor could he ever guarantee that they would love her the way she deserved. So instead he kidnapped her as a baby, and left her with his own parents instead. A rational decision that took little convincing, in his mind. It was surprisingly easy, no more difficult that killing Trent, and Beau would be happier for it. His parents were loving and kind and had always wanted another child, although they had never been able to afford one. They were surprised to find the infant girl and the sack of gold on their front steps, but they loved her nonetheless. And Bren could do with a sister: lord knows it had helped Caleb, in time. The only oddity was when he stopped by occasionally to check in, and heard Beau’s rough voice grow up with a Zemnian accent. 

He fixed other things, too. When Caduceus Clay was eleven, making mud pies in the backyard with his sisters, his parents received a letter telling them exactly what was causing the corruption in their woods, and how to fix it. When the goblins attacked Felderwyn, Veth and Yeza Brenatto were on their honeymoon in Whitestone, an unexpected gift they hadn’t planned on that they had received anonymously in the mail. When Yasha and Zuela ran away to be together, they found they suddenly had the money and transportation and paperwork to make it to the Empire together, far from the consequences of their clan.

Caleb was, at last, at peace. The world would be well. 

He “retired” after that, finding his way back to the Academy in a nice, quiet teaching position, content to live out the rest of his days as a silent guardian of Exandria. It was lonely at times--there was no one he could ever tell his story to, and no one would ever believe him. 

He had forgotten nothing, left no stone unturned, had fixed every problem he could think of. His world was, for once, finally perfect.

Which was why the purple tiefling in front of him startled him so.

“Mollymauk,” he said out loud, on reflex, although the man before him wasn’t Molly, and wouldn’t be for another few years, at least. He was young, tall and lanky, no older than 20, if he was even that old. The man’s hair was shorter, shaved down so that only the barest bit of black fuzz showed, and there was nothing ornate about him: there was no jewelry in his horns, and the clothes he wore were plain and simple and dark. There were no bright tattoos to catch his eye and no flashy tricks or smiles, and yet there was no mistaking it: the man before him was Mollymauk Tealeaf, or would be, one day.

He seemed impossibly young, full of energy, and just looking at him made Caleb feel like an ancient dragon, staring at an impossible, unearned hoard.

(He had forgotten Molly. How could he have forgotten Molly? He had killed Lorenzo and the Iron Sheppards when they were so young and yet he never once thought to check in on Mollymauk. But Mollymauk didn’t exist in this timeline yet, did he? He would be Lucien now, and Caleb had no idea how to find Lucien--except that he was here, now, in front of him. And in his timeline, the one he came from, Molly had been dead for five years, and yet the universe saw fit to send this other Molly his direction anyway.)

“Er, no?” The voice was mostly the same, but different--a different accent, at least, as far as Caleb could tell from what little he’d said.  “Sorry?”

“My apologies,” Caleb said quietly. “You--ah, you reminded me of someone. My mistake.”

Shorter hair, no tattoos, darker clothes--but still fundamentally Molly. The same eyes, the same horns, the same crooked grin--that’s what really sealed it for him. “A good someone?” The non-Molly asked, sharp teeth pointed out of his smile. 

“An old friend,” Caleb answered honestly. “A dead one.”

The not-Molly cocked an eyebrow at that, but didn’t question him further. “Perhaps it’s fortune, then. I’ve been meaning to speak with you, Master Widogast.”

That was interesting. “Oh?”

“I’m told you are the brightest wizard the Empire has to offer,” The not-Molly was certainly charming, he’d give him that, although his voice had more of a Krynn inflection than what Caleb remembered-- “My name is Essek Thelyss--”

“It is not.” Caleb stopped him, not letting the not-Molly speak.

The not-Molly, not-Essek didn’t move, but he didn’t stop smiling either, as if he was used to being caught in a fib and knew how to get out of it. “Oh? What’s my name then?”

“I do not know, but I have met Essek Thelyss, and you are not him,” 

Again, the not-Molly didn’t seem stirred. “How do you know I’m not Essek Thelyss, and whoever you met just happened to steal my name?”

He didn’t have a good or clever response to that. “Something tells me that’s not the case, however,”

The not-Molly’s eyes sparkled as he talked. “Then what’s my name?”

“Lucien,” He took a stab in the dark, the name of Molly’s past life, and that got him a hearty laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s not my name, either, darling, but I do like it more than Essek. Easier to spell. I think I’ll keep it.” He grinned, and held out his hand for Caleb to shake. “Call me Lucien.”

“Mr. Lucien,” Old habits died hard, it seemed; Caleb shut his book, finally. “How might I help you?”

“I’m in need of a wizard of a particular caliber of skill, and I’m told you are the best the Academy has to offer. Unparalleled in his field, they told me.”

“It won’t work,” Caleb brushed him off.

“I haven’t even told you my plan yet!”

“You don’t have to. I know it ends with you in an early grave,” Caleb shook his head. “You are no wizard, Mr. Lucien, and I doubt you have the temperament to start now. Whatever you are trying to do, you’d be better off if you stopped it now.”

“You must help me,” Lucien pleaded, his voice desperate. “If you don’t, I--I know your secret,”

“I rather doubt that.”

“You’re a time traveler, from the future.” That stopped Caleb dead in his tracks. “That, or you are the most convincing seer I’ve ever met.”

It was dead silent for a moment as Caleb’s thoughts raced through his head. How? How did he know? How was it even possible that this not-Molly would have even the slightest idea of who he was?

“Holy shit, I’m right?” Lucien laughed, louder than Caleb thought he might’ve intended. “You are a time traveler. I was just guessing, but I’m right, aren’t I?” He cackled. “Luxon above, you’re from the goddamn future. It’s why you recognized me. You called me--Molly? Mollymauk? Not the best name I’ve ever used for a con but honestly not the worst either. It’s growing on me, actually. Tell me, was I still handsome in the future? It’s a very important question--”

The hold person spell was up before Caleb even though to cast it. “Shut. Up.” A moment, then two, the not-Molly’s face frozen in time as Caleb struggled to catch his breath.

He took that moment, and then he released the spell. He expected another barrage of inane questions, but the not-Molly was silent, waiting expectantly.

“How did you know?”

Not-Molly smiled, not unkindly. “Essek Thelyss is a not even a hundred years old in the Krynn Dynasty. He’s a smart but reclusive boy, doesn’t have a lot of friends and most people wouldn’t know him because he keeps to himself. His mother is currently grooming him to be the next shadowhand, a fact that is not known to many. For you to know him well enough to recognize on sight that I’m not him? He must have an impressive future indeed.”

“What’s your name, really?”

Not-Molly didn’t want to answer that one. “Some call me the Nonagan. That will suffice.” 

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I have for you.”

“Hmm,” Caleb sat back down at his desk, trying to appear calmer than he felt. “So what if I am from the future? I won’t help you. I already told you that your plan doesn’t work--it ends with you in a grave.”

“Well, Mr. Caleb--can I call you Mr. Caleb? Master Widogast seems so terribly formal--”

“No,”

“-- from what it sounds like, it sounds like my plan works perfectly.”  The Nonagan batted his eyelashes. “You see, my plan is to die. Permanently.”

“What are you on about, exactly?”

“I am over a thousand years of the Krynn Dynasty’s attempts at perfect consecutation.  I am a Beacon made flesh. I am the Luxon’s divine light, and the closest thing this world has ever seen to genuine immortality. I cannot die.” He paused. “Well, I can, I suppose, as any creature made flesh can die. But I always come back,” he rolled up his sleeves, and showed Caleb a tattoo of a red eye on his wrist. “It takes a while. And I don’t remember anything at first. But with enough time, the memories come back. And I would, with your help, like them to stop, if you please.”

[caduceus-tealeaf-derolo]

Mindful

Thanks to my current ‘biggest fan’ on this blog - @nuckton for the lovely prompt - Widomauk - sci-fi AU. It’s out of my usual wheelhouse, so I hope I did the prompt justice- Enjoy!

“I need to speak to a human, it is of paramount importance, and I know you have at least one on this ship.” Gaudily dressed, even for this planet, Mollymauk Tealeaf drummed fingers on his sleeve, crossed arms brokering no argument. “I am an ambassador to this planet from Terra, and I have need of a human to assist me. As is my right by decree of the Concord, I claim whomever the highest ranking human is within this ship as an associate of my delegation.” The guard raised an eyebrow, and turned to their companion, speaking in a language Molly assumed to be orcish. “It would behoove you to move quickly. My bodyguard will not hesitate.” Beside him, Fjord twitched perceptively, fingers moving to summon some eldritch energy to his palm.

The guard narrowed their eyes, and grunted to the other, sending them into the docked spaceship. “We have only one ranked officer that is also human within this ship - he was trained by the Archmage of the Dwendallian Empire of Terra. The captain will not release him from service lightly.” 

Fjord stepped forward, energy still sparking along his palm as he spoke, inspecting his nails absently. “His Grace the Ambassador does not care about the minor opinions of a meager ship captain. You can find another arcane caster, and we will pay a stipend for the trouble.” On Molly’s other side, Jester handed Beau a small sachel of coin, along with five other coins that glinted in the dock’s fluorescent lighting. “Hey, friend, or the captain’s trouble, and for yours.” she said, handing over first the pouch, and then the other coins. A bruske nod from the guard while he eyed Yasha with apprehension, and the party waited. Ten agonizing minutes later, a human was escorted to the walkway off the ship. Flanked by the absent guard, and a well decorated formally dressed woman that Molly assumed to be the captain, the three disembarked, coming to stand a scant twenty feet from them. “So, you come to claim one of my crew? Under the law of Terra and the orders of whom?” “Tech-nic-ally,” Jester drew out the first word as though admonishing the Captain for misunderstanding their intent, “under the law of the Dwendallian Empire, on behalf of Terra, under direct orders of the Clovis Concord, to establish trade agreements.” Brandishing a thick piece of  what looked like velum that held fancy calligraphy where words could be seen, she smiled. “You will find everything in order should you like to check.”

The captain paled perceptively, shooting a glare at the guard who had fetched them, and pressing the arcane practitioner forward a step or two. “Have him. This is the Mage Caleb Widogast, of Terra, from the Dwendalian Empire.” Turning to the auburn man, she muttered through clenched teeth. “I will have your belongings brought out in a moment.” Caleb nodded, stood back from the captain another step, and bowed briefly. “At your will, captain.” A sneer crawled across her face. “It’s not my will, Arcanist, it’s the fucking concord’s. Consider this-” she jammed the sachel of coin that the guard was trying to pass her at him. “Your remaining wages from this journey.” Caleb, meanwhile, was shaking - not with rage, but with fear. This was new, new and unfamiliar, and frightening. The ship had systems, standards, expectations for what his day would look like, and looking over the colorful assortment of individuals who had apparently just demanded his assistance, it looked like the only surety between them was utter chaos.

Caleb’s mind raced, taking in the new individuals; A Half Orc, two Tieflings, a large and imposing female humanoid who set his hackles up, a long and lanky male with pink hair and a kind of teal chitin armor. Movement behind the pink male made him blink just as a shrill voice entered his mind. “Caleb, don’t worry, you’re safe. You may not know us, but we know you. Just play along, I promise you’re safe. You-can-respond-to-this-message.” “Ah, well, Danke.” was all he managed to get out before he felt the magic dissipate, and was being approached by the two horned individuals, both with jewelry that caught the light in little glimmers, though the purple one was far more ostentatious than the other.

“He-llo Cay-leb!” The blue female sing-songed in a way that was both alien and familiar, as though he had heard the way of speaking before, but never known the face of who spoke. It made an itching in his mind, like a thought that tried to escape him. “Hello. I am at your command, Ambassador.” He bowed as he’d been taught to do, eyes to the ground, the picture of obedience. A strangled choking sound reached his ears, and when he looked up, he saw the purple one had turned away, tail thrashing about in what Caleb’s mind told him was agitation or anger. What had he done? The half orc stepped forward to address the confusion the Human was feeling. “It’s not your fault, friend. We’ll explain in a bit.” Ten minutes later, all of Caleb’s possessions were in the obnoxiously pink bag that the blue tiefling carried, with the exception of Frumpkin, who was currently in his pocket dimension.

“Where are we going, if I may ask, Ambassador?” Tail thrashing back and forth with each step, the gaudily dressed male called back to him, barely turning. “A tavern. I need a drink, and you will too, once we’re in private.” Mind whirling with possibilities, Caleb followed the group to a fairly nice tavern, certainly better than anything he’d have purchased personally, but not the fanciest place this planet had to offer. Upon entering, ordering a round of drinks brought up to the rooms that they’d previously secured, and making their way upstairs, Caleb found himself sat at a low table in a sort of common area that held four bedrooms off of it, fairly private from what he could tell, though he didn’t want to start casting to double check unless given permission. The tall individual, Duce as the rest called him, dropped an illusion as they entered and cracked his neck. “It’s not like I’m physically changed, but those illusions make me feel so cramped. Jester, let’s check the place over one more time, just in case.” The blue tiefling, Jester, cast some sort of magic that Caleb realized was divine along with Duce, and then scanned the room. “All clear, we should be fine.” The half orc and the small one, who Caleb realized was a female goblin, were busy over some sort of device made of a combination of technology and arcane energy. Setting it up behind the closed door, and pressing a button, Caleb felt the magic he had trained to harness just… melt away from him, still there, but out of reach. Suppressing his mounting panic at being in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, where they just suppressed his magical abilities, Caleb stood, and began to pace in small bursts, trying to not let his discomfort show. Drinks brought, and everyone sprawled around the table, the party looked to one another, before the half orc gestured to Duce. “Mister Caleb, would you mind me doing something? Or me and Jester doing something? We think you have magic on you that doesn’t seem good, and we’d like to take it off.” “Do… do I have a choice?”

The varied answers were not comforting, ranging from a “No!” from the goblin and the human female beside her, a drawn out “Well-” from Jester, an “I would imagine so,” from Duce, nothing from the half orc or the woman that Caleb now realized was of celestial blood, and silence from the nearly garish purple individual that Caleb still only knew as ‘The Ambassador’. “Mister Mollymauk?” Duce’s voice was soft and coaxing. Molly’s face was full of grief, tears streaming down his cheeks, red eyes pleading even as he said the words. “Of course you have a choice, Caleb.” “Then yes.” Caleb watched Mollymauk as the words passed his lips, his stomach twisting in distressed knots, telling him that he was the reason this beautiful individual wept. The tiefling’s tail stopped it’s rapid movement, and his voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper. “Really?” “Yes, do it.” There was a whirlwind of movement, as the goblin went over to the magical suppression device, Duce and Jester moved to either side of him, and the enormous assimar put a comforting hand on Mollymauk’s shoulder. The half orc and the human female watched intently, as the goblin disengaged the device, and Caleb felt his magic within his grasp once again. A split second later, the two clerics spoke, and Caleb felt his mind pulse as their spell hit a barrier he hadn’t known existed. Another casting, he could feel the strain they were under to break whatever shield existed in his mind, a third casting, and the barrier cracked. The fourth casting made the wall shatter, and Caleb felt his mind splinter into a thousand pieces, before a cool touch smoothed back his hair, and his understanding knit itself back together. Opening his eyes, everyone was watching him. The goblin, no… Nott. Nott, the Brave pressed the button once more, and the room’s magical aura was once more suppressed. Breath entered his lungs in a rush, making him realize he hadn’t had oxygen in several moments. Mollymauk - no… Molly. Molly was asking Caduceus and Jester if it’d worked, Beau, and Fjord, and Yasha were still silent, as he sat up. “Molly.” The name was out of his mouth, and the tiefling was across the table and in his arms. Memories flooded back to him as he comforted Molly, working backwards to when they’d last seen each other. The ship, working in the labs, being ill at the school, blankness, Trent Ikithon casting something on him. “How FUCKING DARE he take you from me?” Caleb wasn’t sure if the words had come from him, or from Molly, safely in his arms. “I will never let you go again.” “Please don’t.” “And I am going to destroy the Archmage.” “No darling, We are going to destroy the Archmage.”

[moonblooch]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)

Relationships: Fjord & Jester Lavorre, Fjord & Caleb Widogast

Characters: Fjord (Critical Role), Caleb Widogast, Nott (Critical Role), Mollymauk Tealeaf, Yasha (Critical Role), Jester Lavorre

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, minor conflict between characters, Misunderstanding, but its all cool, mentions of Fjord's backstory, references to Caleb's backstory

Language:English

Series:← Previous Work Part 2 of the Hits off the Cosmic Deck series

Some secrets are shared and the problem with the engine that probably definitely wasn't caused by this weird glowing thing.

“Was zum teufel?!”

Caleb’s voice echoed down the corridor to Beau’s room, where Fjord was trying to find some robes that she probably wouldn’t mind losing, just in case the person he sent to deliver them (because he’d be doshed if he was leaving his ship alone with a bunch of strangers) decided to take anything for themselves.

“What’s up in there Caleb?” he called back, praying for a good answer as he made his way into the corridor clutching a robe in hand.

The first thing Caleb had done was take a screwdriver to Beau’s goggles, claiming that they were not working properly. When he was satisfied with those, he had lifted Nott onto his shoulders to fix the lights, which required them powering down the entire engine room, which could only be done from the bridge, which now had all of its breadboards on display and several disconnected. Thankfully the lights had seemed to be a loose connection in the wiring as opposed to a fault with the cells and when the lights had flickered back to life, they had unveiled the sheer mess that the engine room was actually in.

Aside from the splatter of tar-fuel (thankfully only from a spare canister, not from the engine itself) which Beau had left close to the entrance, the engine itself was nearly incomprehensible. Fjord was no mechanic by any means, but he had assisted in maintaining the engines of the cargo vessels he had worked on in the past. And yet none of the engine of The Mistake seemed even vaguely recognisable to him. He was certain he would have given it a look over when they bought it (bought being a fairly generous description for the transaction which had brought the ship into their hands), perhaps he had been in too much of a rush.

Either way, Caleb at least seemed to recognise its components, though his comment on the “unconventional layout” was far from encouraging. He had stowed his pack in the little space available in the engineer’s quarters before opening his other bag and affixing a device that seemed to be a small collar light wired to a pair of goggles to Frumpkin and sending him into the depths of the engine room.

He had removed Beau’s goggles, replacing them with a pair of his own which he explained were connected to Frumpkin’s, so that he would be able to see what his cat could. Fjord had left the room, intending on sending Nott to find Beau and Jester with the spare clothes, but Caleb’s latest exclamation led him back into the corridor.

“Why in the name of everything sacred does this thing run on rhydonium?” Caleb yelled back.

“Should it not?” Fjord asked, already knowing the answer as he rounded the corner into the engine room. Caleb’s goggles were glowing blue, presumably an indicator that they were connected to Frumpkins.

“Nein! Nothing this small should.”

“Then, uh, can you make it so that it runs on something else?”

“Not without taking the entire ship to pieces. Every pipe would have to be treated, the cost would be enormous. That and you would attract a lot of attention; these kinds of mods are usually only found on pirate ships.”

Scrutiny was not something Fjord was looking for at that time. The thing in his arm was difficult enough to hide, and travelling with more people was a risk as well. Taking The Mistake to a proper workshop for any extended amount of time could just be the final bolt in the sarcophagus.

“Is there any good news?” he asked.

“Yes, the good news is that I know what your problem is. It is a two person problem to fix, but it mostly requires somebody else to hold things in place while I work. I have made a list of the tools and materials it will need, the ones that I do not already have.” He indicated a clunky looking data-pad which sat on top of his tool bag.

“Right,” Fjord said, looking at the clearly extensive list, “and what is the problem exactly?”

“There are a host of minor issues, but this ship must be at least twenty standard years old by now and I am going to assume it has worked hard in that time so those are to be expected. You will want to get them fixed eventually as they will hamper the functionality if left, but they are not urgent. Your problem is the acceleration compensator.”

“Well dag.”

“I am astounded you even made it to dirt.” Caleb told him, lifting his goggles for a moment to make eye contact. “If you take off in this state you will be flat as a panna cake before you hit the big L.”

“Beau’s not going to like that.” Fjord mused, mostly to himself.

“She is your pilot?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah, a good one at that. She’s done her best with the engine as well, but she’s more of the ‘hit it ‘til it works’ type. Never failed us before, but I guess it had to at some point.”

The look that Caleb gave him before he pulled the goggles back over his eyes could only be described as horrified.

“I will send Frumpkin on a bit more of a look around, if I find anything else important you will hear my yelling. Could you send someone to purchase the items on that list please?”

Fjord picked up the data pad and scanned the list as he walked back to the galley, where he had last seen the others. He could still hear the slightly muffled sound of voices as he approached.

“All I’m saying is that you can’t just go around waving those glowsticks wherever you want to.” Nott was saying. “That sort of thing can get you killed.”

“Well if it’s my life at risk then I’ll wave them wherever I please.” Molly’s voice replied as Fjord came to the door. He had hovered for a moment, debating whether or not to interrupt, when Nott made a guttural growling sound and he decided that it would be best to step in.

“Hey there folks, apologies for interrupting here but I’m afraid I’ve got a couple errands I need taking care of.” He said proffering the robe. “Nott, could you take this to Beau please? I’m guessing she’ll be nearly done.”

Nott shot Molly one foul look before taking the robe and leaving, her feet clicking against metal as she scurried down the steps outside. Fjord turned to Molly and Yasha.

“There going to be any trouble?” he asked “because this is a small ship, I don’t want any scraps breaking out.”

“Not at all.” Molly sighed. “Nott’s just a little agitated about me showing off the lightsabres in public, not that it’s any of her business.”

“Well,” Fjord replied, “I’d take it as a favour if you listened to her in this case. Just to keep the peace a bit. Particularly since anything to do with Jedi only ever leads to trouble in my experience.”

“Whoever said anything about Jedi?” Molly asked with a grin.

“I’m sure you’re just being wise-mouthed, but for the love of the First Light don’t say that sort of thing around Beau. If she thinks you’re Sith she will kill you, and I’ll be in no place to stop her.”

Whilst Molly’s expression didn’t change, something in Yasha’s face twitched. Fjord decided not to comment on this; Yasha looked like she might be able to snap him in half and he was hardly keen to test that theory.

“Look, I’m sorry to come down on y’all like this, I’ll have a word with Nott when I have a chance. Could you maybe have a look around for some of these things?” he held out the data pad. “As many as you can find, maybe some food as well, and I’ll consider the cost your fee for the trip.”

“What if it costs more than a trip to the next planet?” Yasha asked.

“Then we’ll take you further, as long as The Mistake can handle it. That’s what the parts are for.”

“Well, she’s living up to her name if this list is anything to go by.” Yasha said, looking it over. “We will see what we can do.”

Once they had left, Fjord took a moment to breathe. Letting this number of strangers onto his ship all at once was laserbrained, but he had no choice. He had to find out what had happened to Vandren’s starship, and how he had found himself on a beach halfway to the other side of the galaxy after the apparent explosion. In order to keep following the trail of information, he needed a crew. Beau and Jester had been doing a fine job, but a crew of three could only move slowly, and forget about getting any work.

He returned to his quarters, sat on his bunk and at last removed his glove. He had not been missing a hand when he had lost his last crew, but he had woken up on that beach with a hand made of metal, a crystal embedded in the palm. He had examined it many times since, but now he curled the fingers experimentally, trying to parse how the joints moved against each other and the tiny pistons slid into place. Plenty of freighter workers were missing limbs or had enhancements, but Fjord had never seen a hand quite like his before.

He had never seen one that could do what his could either.

Holding his arm a safe distance in front of him, Fjord closed his fist entirely.

A bolt of light shot out from it, quickly solidifying into a shape he had come to both recognise and learn to use as a blade. He turned it this way and that, allowing the blueish glow to chase away the shadows of his perpetually gloomy room. The edges of his vision gradually darkened until it was just him and the light. The sensation of the bunk and the floor beneath his feet faded until he was floating, hypnotized by the crackling bolt in front of him. He must have been breathing, but he could not recall the last time he had actually taken a breath.

LEARN

Fjord’s hand sprung open out of instinct, fear clawing at his throat. He looked frantically about his room but no source for the voice made itself evident. Legs shaking he stood.

LEARN

There it was again, more insistent. Fjord clenched his hand, allowing the blade to form again as he strode from his room, stumbling through the entrance bay then the galley and into the main corridor, towards the one person he knew to still be on the ship.

“Zurück!” came the cry from the engine room, Caleb swung into view, sending Fjord to a stop immediately. He was clutching a weapon his hands, one that Fjord didn’t quite recognise but which he had seen half a dozen variations of in his brief time as part of a hunting party to the Xorhassian Sector.

“Is that a flame thrower?” he asked, dropping his blade and raising his hands. He could hold his own in a fight, but against a ranged weapon with nowhere to run he barely stood a chance. “Ferglutz Caleb, why do you have a flame thrower?”

“Are you with them? The order?” Caleb asked, voice shaking and all but a yell.

“Who?” Fjord asked

Caleb appeared to physically deflate.

“I am sorry Fjord, I heard the noise of a lightsabre and I panicked.” He holstered the barrel of the flame thrower, which Fjord could now see was attached to the mysterious pack which he had stowed in the engineer’s quarters, and held his hands out.

“You’ve had a bad past with some Jedi then?” Fjord asked. The last thing he needed was someone else that Beau might be inclined to start a fight with.

Caleb’s face grew dark.

“Not with Jedi, but yes. All sabres make a very distinctive sound when they are activated, so when I heard yours my first assumption was that someone had hunted me down. Clearly that was incorrect, and I am very sorry for trying to kill you. Your hand looks very much like something that they would create, which is why I did not drop my weapon when I saw you.”

LEARN

The voice came again, and Fjord did his best not to flinch, instead keeping his eyes on Caleb who did not appear to have heard it. The message was clear; Caleb knew someone who could have done this to him. He needed to learn who that was.

“Hey, no hard feelings alright?” he said, taking a tentative step forward. When Caleb did not retreat or grab for the flamethrower again he continued to walk forward until they were almost too close to touch. “I’ve met guys who spent their whole lives at light speed trying to get away from Sith, if you’ve had a bad past with them you being a little jumpy’s understandable.”

He held out his metal hand, open a silent offer for Caleb to take it, and did his best to exude as calming an air as possible. Caleb eyed the hand nervously before reaching out with both hands to examine it.

“Truly, this is a faszinierend piece of hardware you have here.” He remarked, turning the hand gently in the light. “Forgive me for asking, but who gave you this, please?”

“Honestly Caleb, I wish I could tell you. I was in a freighter accident, about a standard year ago I think, and when I woke up I had that thing.” He left out the fact that his hand had not been damaged when his escape pod was deployed, that he could only remember the snippets of darkness and glowing eyes which came to him in his dreams.

Instead he said “I’d appreciate it if we could keep this incident between the two of us Caleb.”

Caleb looked surprised, but nodded in agreement.

“Yes, likewise. Nott will worry if she believes that I have had an, er, an episode I suppose. I take it that you do not want the others to know about your hand?”

“That’d be great. I’ll extend the same courtesy to your flame thrower for now, but it might be better if the others knew about it in case we get into a scuffle.”

“Is that likely?” Caleb asked, releasing Fjord’s hand.

“I’d hope not, but if this is a pirate starship like you suggested then I can’t guarantee we won’t be mistaken for enemies by some shipjackers.”

Caleb nodded slowly.

“I can make some tweaks to the hyperdrive, in something like this we should be able to outrun almost anything that is not an imperial model.”

Fjord desperately hoped that was not a possibility.

The awkward ticks slid past one by one until Fjord finally spoke up again.

“So, did you find any other problems? With the engine I mean.”

“Hm, oh, yes, ah, I – there was nothing major,” Caleb seemed to be grateful for a topic he could speak about comfortably, “all mostly standard for a rhydonium engine, which you should not have. Most of the strangeness that I encountered can be put down to the down-sizing; this appears to be based off the old Venator class and I am certain that you do not need me to tell you how insane that is.”

He shook his head, a strange smile creeping onto his face.

“Apart from that, the only unusual item which I found, well, Frumpkin found, was this glowing – I think that it was a crystal of some sort, but no kind that I recognise. About this big.” He indicated with his hands. “I put it in the engineer’s quarters, hold on.”

He opened the door to the small side room, an action shortly followed by a long, low meow.

“I know, I know.” Fjord heard Caleb mutter. “It was just to keep you safe, yes?”

He emerged barely a tick later, holding something glowing in his gloved hands. As it got closer, Fjord had to admit that crystal was probably the best word for the dodecahedron-shaped object, even if his vision swam every time he tried to look directly at it. It was the colour of a blue sky in a partial eclipse, a strange, swirling, not-quite-silver that could have been a different colour entirely from another angle.

“I am aware that some ships use crystals, but I have never seen any like this. Do not worry,” Caleb said, immediately causing worry to curl in Fjord’s gut, “it was not attached to anything, and it did not appear to have been at any point. It was tucked away in a corner.”

“Huh.” Was all that Fjord could offer in response.

“I am happy to take a closer look at it when I have fixed the acceleration compensator, but it does not seem to do anything apart from make your eyes water.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. It’d be a nice thing to keep, but it might be worth a fair number of credits to the right buyer, maybe one of those collector types?”

“I doubt that I could guess the value my friend, but I can certainly study it when we are moving.” Caleb returned the object to his room.

“I would advise that you move quickly if you do not want the others to know about your hand, Nott has just informed me that they are on their way back.” He said as he was walking back over to Fjord, briefly lifting his hair to display a small contraption made of copper wire which hooked over the top of his ear.

“Right, thanks for the heads up.” Fjord answered. “If you want any help clearing that room of yours out just shout for me or the others, right? I’m sure Beau and Jester would be happy to help.”

“Of course, thank you.” Caleb called after him as he retreated once again to his room. He had barely got his glove back on when he heard the thunder of footsteps in the entrance bay.

“We’re back!” cried Jester’s voice. “Fjord, where are you? We found this really cute shop on the way back and I got you something.”

“I’m just in my room.” He called back, bracing himself as his door slammed open.

“So check this out, okay, we were walking back from the cantina and we took a slightly different route back because Nott saw something shiny and cool looking, and Nott’s really, really cool by the way I think we might be like best friends now. Not better friends than you and me and Beau, but still, like, really, really good friends. Oh, and maybe not as good friends as with the Traveller, but like, you get the idea.”

Fjord couldn’t quite stop himself from smiling.

“So anyway, we went down this little alleyway and there was this little trinket shop and we bought this.” She held up a small, glittering device on a short chain. “And look, it does this if you spin it.” She flicked it with one finger and it spun, undulating into a number of different shapes and colours. “And I thought it would be good for your room, because it’s really boring in here right now. I mean that’s cool if you like that, but it’s not very fun for anyone visiting you, you know?”

“Thank you Jester, I really like it.” Fjord replied, taking the device from her and holding it up to the little light which his room had. “I’ll find somewhere real nice to hang it, I promise.”

“You had better.” She said, crossing her lekku twice behind her back. “So what’s up with the ship, did you ask Caleb to take a look at the engine yet? How soon can we go?”

“We ain’t going anywhere in this state Jester.” Fjord sighed before continuing, “Caleb says the acceleration compensator’s out of commission. He says he can fix it, but it sounds like it’ll take a while.”

“Aw frang!” Jester exclaimed. “Did he say how long exactly?”

“I didn’t ask.” Fjord paused for a beat before blurting out “Jester, he knows about my hand.”

“Oh.”

“He found out by accident but it sounded like he might know who did it.”

“That’s really good Fjord!” Jester beamed at him. “You can finally find out what happened to Vandren, I’m really happy for you. With me and Beau’s help of course.”

“I certainly hope so Jess.”

They were interrupted by a klang from the general direction of the entrance bay.

“Can someone get out here?” Molly’s voice sounded strained through the wall between them. “We’re about to drop this thing.”

Yasha murmured something indiscernible from due to the distance between them.

“Alright, I’m about to drop this thing. A little help here please?”

Notes: Hi again folks, second update today because the feedback on The Saga Begins was so amazing. Speaking of, the lovely jmercedesd asked for a bit of a species breakdown for everyone so here we are:

Caleb & Beau: Still Human, but that might have slightly different connotations in Star Wars canon than real life so link to wiki included here.

Fjord: Falleen, although he can just about pass for a few other spiecies with the right sort of disguise.

Jester: Twi'lek, because even though there is a species in the Star Wars universe that is basically Tieflings just making her that would feel like a bit of a cheat.

Molly: Chiss. There are actually plot reasons for him being a different species to Jester, but that's spoiler territory.

Yasha: Probably Diathim but I'm still considering that one.

Nott: Yoda's Species because Star Wars handed me a goblin on a platter and I wasn't going to ignore that.

I'll reveal Caduceus when he shows up, although I do know what he is.

As ever I do not own any of the characters or concepts contained within this fic.