#I'm a spear I'm a shield I'm the light in the field

[randomlywanderingmoth]

Ah, nuts to it, I'm not letting this one simmer in my head forever.

Fanservant: Tam Lin Bedivere

Servant Class: Saber

In a distant land, a Lostbelt- no, a Lostworld called Faerie Britain, the there was once a Savior named Aesc. She had companions, tried to save this Lostworld, failed, and the tyrant Queen Morgan rose. Visitors to this Lostworld witnessed her tyranny, fought her, slew her, and- if you know of Faerie Britain you know the specifics of this story, the ways it might be inaccurate, and so on.

However, the Kaleidoscope, the observation of infinite possibilities, is a funny thing, that observes differences in timelines. In the timeline you know, the story is as it is.

Tam Lin Bedivere is not from the timeline you know.

In another time, Aesc the Savior had one more companion than was commonly listed- a fae squire that became a fairy knight, the one called Tam Lin Bedivere. When Aesc died, Bedivere went missing- and it is commonly believed that the fairy knight's grief contributed to the circumstances of her reappearance, as the tyrant Queen Morgan's first knight.

Tam Lin Bedivere. The Loyal Knight of Autumn. A seemingly simplistic knight, adorned in armor like pale bone, or old grey wood, wielding a dread rapier of divine light, cutting down every Mors she comes across, in a near unbreaking vigil to end the threats to Faerie Britain. Gentle voiced but stern, and would always spirit those in danger away to safety.

The truth is several times over. Firstly, her armor, similar to the armor you might think reminiscent of a certain Lion King of Knights, was fashioned from the "bark" carved from A Certain Tree. Secondly, her sword was a gift, given to her by the Savior Aesc- originally a hefty spear, Tam Lin Bedivere fashioned it closer to a sword that would retract into the gauntlet of her right arm in golden coils. Due to the manner in which it was reforged, that sword is also capable of reforming as its wielder needs, extending in length and twisting around shields.

Thirdly, to dispel any notions, in spite of her proud, long, flowing autumn hair, and elsewise appearance, Tam Lin Bedivere is not the one you might recognize as Fujimaru Ritsuka.

She might have been, once. A long, long time ago. Two thousand and four hundred years ago, in fact. But once, in the present, the girl named Fujimaru Ritsuka was overcome with an irrational desire to protect- and thus displaced her Servant, and took the Water Mirror herself.

That Water Mirror sent that girl back, two thousand and four hundred years- but that is not what affected her. No, it was the combination of circumstance. The girl had no mana left in her body from a terrible fight with a terrible foe in Norwich Harbor, and furthermore she no longer had the protection of Shielder.

In that circumstance, she was like a sponge, absorbing the local mana- and that changed her rapidly and irrevocably, and subtly enough that even she did not notice herself.

And so, the girl became a changeling faerie. And so, she knew she could not return. And so, she remained with the Savior Aesc.

And over the years, and decades, and centuries, and millenia, she cultivated her mana, and her technique, and loyally served. Because that was all that she could do, because that was all that was left for her to do. Because she could not go home anymore.

And over those years, those decades, those centuries, those millenia, she forgot what she once was.

... is that really the truth, though?

PARAMETERS:

Strength: B

Endurance: A

Agility: B

Mana: A++

Luck: C

NP: EX

SKILLS:

Territory Creation (EX Rank): It is less to say that Tam Lin Bedivere is capable of calling forth a territory and using it; rather, a constant Bounded Field surrounds her and the area immediately around her. In ancient times, the effect was provided by her armor, but over thousands of years the effect has "stuck" to her. The nature of this Bounded Field "defines" Tam Lin Bedivere, near-absolutely. As such, her Parameters cannot be altered in any way by outside sources (detrimentally, or beneficially). In addition, any mana she expends, as long as it remains within this Bounded Field, will return to her almost immediately. Furthermore, this defined space protects her against all forms of unnatural attack, acting similarly to a Magic Resistance of A+ Rank. Lastly, allegedly, the Bounded Field would even protect Tam Lin Bedivere from ontological phenomena, such as erasure by paradox. However, such protection would surely be of extraneous value at best.

Riding (C+ Rank): One method of travel for Tam Lin Bedivere is to make her sword as large as possible, throw it like a javelin, and hop aboard, surfing across the sky. That alone should speak to her Riding skill. She calls the technique the Remix Arash Express, although even she cannot say as though why she would call it that.

Mana Burst (A++ Rank): Tam Lin Bedivere has an utterly extraordinary amount of mana, as well as the ability to manipulate it near effortlessly. Apocryphally, that unbelievable supply was gifted to her by Aesc the Savior, for her attempt to learn the nature of the Great Pit at the center of Faerie Britain. One direct manner by which she can crush threats to her Queen is to funnel a titanic amount of mana into her sacred sword; in a pinch, she can also channel that mana into her gauntlets or greaves. Even the unparalleled warrior Wryneck was said to quake at the notion of challenging her sheer force output.

Mind's Eye (True) (A Rank): Over thousands of years, Tam Lin Bedivere has fought threats to the Lostworld of Faerie Britain- from the Mors, to rogue elements. Over that combat she has accrued incredible battlefield awareness.

Fairy Knight of Autumn (B+ Rank): Tam Lin Bedivere was one of Queen Morgan's loyal knights, leading her own contingent in the battle against the Mors. Her unusual valor inspired the soldiers in her charge, acting similar to a Charisma skill. However, her true value comes in the certainty with which she fights. Her mind never folds under pressure, regardless of the odds or circumstances, whether it be fighting a tide of Mors, stalling a Calamity, or cutting down traitors to her Queen. It is said she has only ever faltered twice- both times against the foreign knight called "Tam Lin Galahad".

NOBLE PHANTASM:

Claiomh Solais: Sacred Sword, Light of Judgment

In the mythology of Pan-Human history, Claiomh Solais was the mythic sword of the equally mythic war god Nuadha. Chaldeas logs indicate that the heroic spirit known as Bedivere co-opted the legend of Nuadha's Silver Arm, Airgetlam. It is only appropriate that his Tam Lin counterpart would co-opt his shining sword.

Originally an iteration of the Sacred Spear Rhongomyniad, it was passed from the Savior Aesc to the Tam Lin Bedivere, and fashioned into a sword, that retracts to form the gauntlet and the armor of her right arm. When invoked, the Faerie Knight of Autumn could call down a gleaming pillar of light from the heavens, obliterating anything before her.

At one point, in this timeline, it was deflected by Mash Kyrielight, and irreversibly destroyed Tam Lin Bedivere's helmet, thus exposing her face to the public for the first time in over two thousand years.

Over the course of events, after Queen Morgan's death, she was bade to join the Chaldeans in their descent to Avalon, and bear witness to the forming of Excalibur in the Lostworld. This imprint of Excalibur was then given to her, and fused with her own sword- thus completing the sword known as Claiomh Solais.

In the better known timeline, this was followed by Artoria Caster's sacrifice to fell Cernunnos, and some other things. In this timeline, things are slightly reversed- it is Tam Lin Bedivere who sacrifices her life to fell Cernunnos, and Artoria Caster who survived, was devoured alongside the Chaldeans by the Abyssal Worm, called forth the memory of a kindly knight, and defeated Oberon Vortigern.

"O light from the Inner Sea, I bid you rise. O judgment from the Ends of the World, I bid you descend. No wrongness or evil may remain before my blade! CLAIOMH SOLAIS!"

[somethingclevermahogony]

Happy WBW! Does your setting have any unique in-world symbolism? Like, are roses considered romantic there, or a different flower? Is there a popular symbol for death besides a skull?

I forgot this was in my drafts! Sorry this is so late! If you have questions about why any of the symbols apply to a certain concept let me know! I might do more posts like this in future, not sure yet.

I'm going to stick to Kishetal for this one, and I'm going to keep this one on the short side (For me). I'm keeping this one to just Love and Death, Hope that's okay.

Love

The Kishite understanding of love is quite a complicated one, in that there is no singular definition of love, and as such no singular word for it. The word Pati means desire or want for, this acts as a suffix for terms relating to types of love. Broadly love can be divided into ten categories, Ulipati (Romantic love), Kipati (Maternal or Paternal love), Kurapati (The love of a pet or animal), Lupati (The love between friends, Platonic Love), Seshpati (Lust, physical love), Impati (Love of an inanimate object or place), Jalimpati (Greed), Ushpati (Love of food and drink), Irpati (Love of Beauty, "Wonder"), and Naholpati (The love of deceased person, grief). 

Ulipati (Romantic Love)

Associated Animals and Creatures: Songbirds, Hoopoes, Dragonflies, Cranes, and Doves

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Cherry Blossoms, Lilies, Tulips, Hazelnut, Mint, and Artichokes.

Associated Colors: Purple and Dark Blue

Other Associations: The Sunset, Silk, Hoopoe feather crowns, The Heart, Coral, Jasper, and Bells.

Associated Deities: Uniki "The Great Matron"

Kipati (Maternal/Paternal Love)

Associated Animals: Bears, Lionesses, The Durasi, Owls, and Octopi.

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Barley, Opium Poppy, Dates, Sesame seeds, Fir cones, and Olives and Olive Trees

Associated Colors: Orange, Brown, "Earthy colors"

Other Associations: Mud, Mudbrick, Kipsha (Barley cakes), Date syrup, Eggshells, Bird nests, The Stomach, and Owl feathers.

Associated Deities: Olhasuma "Goddess of the Life Giving Sky, Giver of Fertile Rains", Jalpaha "The Great Father"

Kurapati (Love of a Pet or Animal)

Associated Animals: Dogs, Cats, Cattle, Weasels, Sheep, Horned-Rabbits, and Mice.

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Carnations, Oak Trees, Acorns, Oats, the Black Pine, and Thistles.

Associated Colors: Green

Other Associations: Collars, Shepherd's crook, Wool, Boar Tusks, and Leopard Skin.

Associated Deities: Unlakachi "The Wild God/ The Howling Lord", Jaramuha "The Horned God, God of the Shepherd"

Lupati (The Love Between Friends, Platonic Love)

Associated Animals/ Creatures: Wolves, Deer, Ibex, Hawks, and Taruni

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Walnuts, Poplars, Roses, Beans, Onions, and Garlic.

Associated Colors: Yellow and Blue

Other Associations: Ships, Shields, Ladders, the Sun, Wrestling, Foot races, Amber, The Liver, The Throat, and Bow and Quiver (Not arrows)

Associated Deities: Fepaha "The Drunken God", Jalri "The Great Sun"

Seshpati (Lust, Physical Love)

Associated Animals: Giant Minks, Oysters, Peacocks, Stags, Donkeys, Goats, and Serpents

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Asparagus, Cumin, Irises, Sycamore, Figs, Fennel, Lisjir, Cherries, Sweetgum,Pomegranates, and Lotuses

Associated Colors: Light Green and Pink

Other Associations: Honey, Spears, Perfume, Lapis Lazuli, Phalluses, Breasts, Lips, Flutes, Dancing, and Drums.

Associated Deities: Shibachi "The Pleasure Giver", Jaramuha "The Horned God"

Impati (Love of an Inanimate Object or Place)

Associated Animals: Spiders, Rodents, Dragons (Tulininya), and Corvids.

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Chickpeas, Crocuses, Fumewart, Rosemary, Sage, Reeds, and Almonds

Associated Colors: Silver and Orange

Other Associations: Houses, Lyres, Bread, Fire, Hearths, the Oxhide ingot, Needles, Linen, Bronze, Iron, Anvils, The Arms, and "House spirits"

Associated Deities: Girmaha "God of Golden Fields", Hasunku "The God of the Flaming Stone", Kimaba "Goddess of the Oven"

Jalimpata (Greed)

Associated Animals: Hermit Crabs, Kiriki, Foxes, and Bisku

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Saffron, Cinnamon, Peaches, Lentils, Heliotropes, Rice, and Pistachios

Associated Colors: Gold, Red, and Yellow

Other Associations: Gold, Ostrich Feathers, Frankincense, Pearls, Salt, Ivory, Silk, Apuna, The Eye, and Rakashim

Associated Deities: Ikeshpaha "The Golden God"

Ushpati (Love of Food and Drink)

Associated Animals: Pigs, Boars, Ducks, Bees, Fish, Seagulls, Frogs, Sheep, Wild Game, Snails, and Lamalaru.

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Apples, Figs, Carrots, Beets, Mushrooms, Garlic Flowers, Parsely, Juniper, Grapes, and Violets

Associated Colors: Red, Yellow, and Purple

Other Associations: Beer, Wine, Food (Duh), Pans, Cups, Amphora, The Stomach, The Hand and Fingers, and The Mouth.

Associated Deities: Kimaba "Goddess of the Oven", Fepaha "The Drunken God", Jalchibiku "God of the Vast Waters"

Irpati (Love of Beauty, Wonder)

Associated Animals and Creatures: Spirits, Disuruku, Tigers, Falcons, Tiamawa, Parrots, Oceanic Fish, Whales, Butterflies, Lizards, and Exotic Bird Species (Mostly from the east and south)

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Hasir Flower, Cypress Tree, Apunian Lotus, Cornflowers, Palm Trees, Cedar, Regalu, Botagalu, and Ivy

Associated Colors: Blue, Orange, and Most Bright Colors

Other Associations: Magic, Ruins, Art, Marble, Gemstones, The Moon, Virginity, Clouds, Birds, Ice, Snow, Mountains, and Giants.

Associated Deities: Sonma "The Dream Giver", Silima "Goddess of the Roaring Snow", Humbalima "The Stonebreaker"

Nahulpati (Love of the Dead, Grief)

Associated Animals: Swans, Dogs, Vultures, Foxes, Jackals, Hyenas, Crows, Boruku, Crabs, and Dolphins.

Associated Plants/Fruits/Vegetables: Jasmine, Dried Flowers, Myrrh, Gladiolus, Grasses, Dandelions, and Clover

Associated Colors: White, Black, and Green

Other Associations: Burial Stones, Skeletons, The Elderly, Hills (not mountains), Singing, Mirrors, Calm Water, and Time

Associated Deities: Nahulpaha "The Judge", Shashuma "The Great Scribe"

Death

Death is a complicated topic in Kishite culture, and ultimately can be divided among its two patron deities, Nahulpaha and Dualik. I wil address the differences between each of these aspects of death and their symbolism.

Nahulpaha (Nahul= Death, Paha= Father/Dad)

An important aspect of the Kishite understanding of death, its inherent impermanence. Nothing that dies, will stay dead. All living things reincarnate; mortals, animals, plants, and even some non-living items like mountains, forests, houses, and ships. The only difference being that mortals, those who are among The Awakened, have the potential to eventually, after many mortal lives, enter the Divine Realm, something that Animals, Plants, and even Spirits, cannot do. The Cycle defines the boundary between spirit and mortal; where the former exists exclusively as a spiritual being with an indefinite and/or malleable form, the latter exists as a soul inhabiting a defined, physical body. When a mortal body dies, the soul receives judgment, a process by which they decide if they should be reborn again on the same world, or continue on to be reborn in the next, each life coming closer to divinity. if reborn on the same world, the soul will not be burdened with the memory of the rejected life; while they are reborn as a clean slate in each new mortal world, and again into the spirit realm, if they reach the realm of the gods, they regain the memories of all of their satisfactory lives and attain the capacity to all of those people at once. A life may be rejected for any number of reasons: most commonly, the soul was too young to move on in the cycle, the soul was not satisfied or happy with that life, or the soul believes they did more harm than good during that life.

There is no concept of ghosts or the undead in Kishite folklore, however it is possible for souls that reject judgment to become trapped between lives, there they may attack or threaten the souls of the dead on their journey to judgment. There are a number of rituals and ceremonies meant to counteract this threat.

It is the duty of the deity, Nahulpaha, to guide the dead soul, to help them with judgment, to act as a mediator between the different aspects of the self. While called the Judge, Nahulpaha does not actually provide a sentence. It is thought to be impossible to lie to Naholpaha, as the god knows the mind of the soul.

The god is typically depicted as a dark or cloaked figure, who carries in his hand a torch, some say that this torch is some small piece of the sun given to him by the other gods. This may lead to a false impression by outsiders that Nahulpaha is meant to be a scary or wicked figure. However in the Kishite understanding he is quite the opposite. Nahulpaha is shown as kind, he comforts the dead so that they may judge themselves without fear or anger, he guides the souls to their next life, he sings and dances to comfort the lost children, he howls to welcome the faithful hounds, he pounds the drums to invigorate the fallen soldiers, and it is he who weaves the blankets for the worn mothers. Though he is initially believed to appear in his shadowy form, it is believed that he takes the form of the soul he is addressing, thus to speak with Nahulpaha is to speak with oneself.

Though it is his duty to usher mortal souls to the Divine Realm, he is alone among the gods in that he may not enter there. This arrangement is his choice, one made when mortal souls were first created. It is not unusual for the dead to be placed in their burial stones with food and drink, not for themselves but as gifts for Nahulpaha.

Symbols

Dogs

Foxes

Crows

Cloves

Dried Flowers

Burial Stones/Cairns

Dandelions

A Torch

A Black Cloak

Mirrors

Dualik (The Destruction, The etymology of the name dates back to before the age of the Calamity, preceeding the Kishite Language by thousands of years)

Dualik (Destruction and Time) is one of the three Primordial Beings, alongside Shobiash (The River of Creation) and Shuam (Law). They are the eternal embodiment of time and of destruction, the ferryman of the Shobiash. Both Dualik and Shuam are believed to be born of the river and the primordial nothing. It is the role of Dualik to destroy the universe at its proper time, known as the Nalbani, and to subsequently usher in the birth of a new universe. Dualik has very little to do with mortals or with the events of Kobani, and is thought of as either indifferent to or ignorant of the struggles and fates of the worlds that they oversee. This does not mean that "The Destruction'' is evil, rather it is viewed as a necessary mechanism of reality, one which all beings must heed, though one that few if any will ever see face to face.

And though Dualik is seen as time, decay, and errosion, they are also responsible for rebirth and recreation on a cosmic level. Only Dualik knows when it is the proper time for the universe to be brought to its end, and when the next should be created.

Dualik is rarely referred to in myth or ritual, when they do appear they are depicted as a many armed figure atop a barge or as 3 black circles each inside of each other.

Symbols

A Ferry Boat

Three Circles

A Many Armed Figure

The Tide

The Cycle of the Moon

[paleodictyoptera]

Also I am throwing this random idea at you

Worldless × Hollow Knight crossover

"The Abyss is sealed for a reason-it's no place for common bug, let alone beings of light. Should you choose to break that seal and brave its depths, do not expect to return."

Edda simply stared at the horned creature clad in red. Aven whispered from their closet. "She thinks I'm a being of light?" His tone sounded mocking.

"...let's go." She tipped him out with the grace of an adamantoise and walked up to the sealed door, inspecting the network of light that arose when she touched its rough surface.

"So what do you think- green sword?" Aven groaned after brushing off the dust he gathered from his tumble. "You know this stuff's dangerous for me, right?"

"And you kept pushing me into water just to be sure. Well, I want to be certain as well."

"Ass."

"Green sword, but there's not enough room to swing down, we'll have to stab it."

Hornet, to her credit, did not completely doubt them, as she glared in annoyance rather than dismissal. "If there is anyone unable to claim the King's Brand that could still breach the Abyss, it would be you, but do not assume a change in weaponry will assist you."

Edda and Aven replied in united division.

"You'll see/Just you wait."

The seal, to it's credit, held up for 8 seconds before the cosmic blade sank into the glowing sigil with a sharp chunk, turning the door to fragments.

__________

The little Knight was not hollow. It had ambition, goals it set for itself. It had compassion and kindness for the people of Hallownest; it did not have much to say, but offered it's companionship nonetheless. It had fears and nightmares, cornered and crawling in the dark with monsters and apathy.

So it was perhaps not so surprising, when the world shook and the ceiling shattered, when the Eye from Above fell; when the Knight returned to the one living kind soul it had known in these lands only to find them frozen with arm shielding from above, humming with energy that did not belong to it-

It was not so surprising that the Knight shrieked. The dream nail was in their hand immediately, seeking for a sign of what had happened.

They did not expect the teleportation. They walked past other old ones petrified in a past agony, spear piercing the body of one of them as it slowly turned to flakes. They walked past the field of spears, over a mockingly radiant floor. They beheld the light gently floating down from above, intent unreadable.

"ANOMALY. INVASION. OPPORTUNITY."

The Knight swung its nail, but there was nothing there to hit. It was as if they didn't exist.

"PERMISSION. VOID. EXISTENCE."

The light threw a multitude of spearpoints their way; the knight did their best to dodge, but their sword arm got briefly scraped by an errant projectile. Three masks broke.

"OPPORTUNITY. FOCUS."

The words of the higher being were clear enough to the knight after slogging through the gibberish of the archives in an attempt understand the Pale King's plan. It was going to be forced into focusing Soul.

"VESSEL. HONOR. GODHOOD."

The little Knight was not hollow-none of the vessels were. Even the abyss had an element of fullness to it that made it unsuited to containment of anything.

"VESSEL. NEW. CREATE."

No- the way of the Abyss was destruction. Consumption.

Absorption.

The knight's shell split in half as the Void Heart sprang forth, tendrils of darkness seeping in from all directions and weaving into the Void. The hunger of the God of the Abyss was as strong as ever, claws of darkness finding purchase on the curved light as it sunk its teeth into the core, cracking symbols of infinity.

All They could do was scream.

[northwest-cryptid]

Pso2 and Mabinogi share a common trait and it's the fact that the "but you're the support" trope gets kicked up to 11 out of a possible 5.

I'm pso2 the "support" class is capable of some of the most destructive techs in the game. We're talking summoning black holes on your enemy, creating gravity fields that allow for melee attacks to hit everything because your melee attacks have elemental explosions, and of course you can mix elemental attacks to deal extremely high elemental damage against weak points.

Your support will heal you and keep you alive and big you and stuff sure but they're also going to toss a talis behind the boss to cast their super death laser from the enemy's blind spot and then casually whip out a wand to rush down the enemy and tap them causing an elemental explosion.

Meanwhile Mabi's support "class" still gains access to all their other usual skills. Yeah sure they can buff you and apply healing over time and such, real cool stuff there... They can also freeze time to summon multiple meteors without waiting for the cooldown because again, they fucking froze time. If the poor enemy is somehow still standing don't worry, the mighty Harmonic Saint can just lower the defense and protection of everything nearby and then transform into a demigod to spike the enemy with a holy spear of light or literally steal everyone's souls and use them to create a projectile and good luck hitting them because they literally have the power of God and anime on their side not only do they have numerous shields, they also have such high mp Regen that mana shield, demigods shield, any transformation heavy stander, and god forbid enduring melody will create a barrier you literally cannot deal damage to. Even if you somehow did they could simply use a technique to regain their entire hp bar + an additional overshield because fuck you.

These games are great, but I get high on healer privilege and then I play FFXIV and I cry because unless I'm on white mage all my healer dps feels so lacking.

[arcthebreeder]

Dark Dragon Retrievement Operation_08:

A Power Water almost falls on top of us, but Tlalocmon and Megidramon quickly took advantage of it, and condensed the attack into a cloud Tlalocmon would use to cause rain over the army of cyborg digimon.

This at least slows them down, but won't make them short circuit or something, for that we have other plans.

"D's" Dukemon Crimson Mode suddenly began a crusade against the digimon on the lower part of the field, stabbing them with its Gungnir lance, and then throwing them off the field.

Soon after, I caught Marin Angemon trying to do something, so I warned it and also warned "M" about Ocean Man, there's a chance that freak is around and he could take advantage of the water formation created by the Ocean Love, and use it for his advantage, so I asked them to stay as cose as me as they could, so I could immediately do something in case he's here, we better clean ourselves from every bother we could get.

As I was worrying about all this possible Ocean Man situation, I got yelled at by Rasenmon...

She can't fight all alone... They need my orders to do this.

It's better that I keep myself centered.

I gave the order of charging against Giga Seadramon as soon as possible, the shield it raised last time was basically the reason we're all here, and it could only get worse if it's used in this case.

Giving Rasenmon a Devil Chip A, a chip that would enhance her strength, agility and speed for a few minutes, in exchange for some of her judgement, she's powerful but crazy, basically.

I gave her the power needed to jump at Giga Seadramon alone for a while. Rasenmon has good stamina, and even if the Devil Chip A affects her mind, I know she is centered in fighting Giga Seadramon, and at least that can keep it entertained for a while.

Aegisdramon, on its side, began a fight with Arcturusmon apparently, it doesn't know what it's getting into.

Arcturusmon is not a fighting enthusiast anymore, he prefers peace thanks to the Vamdemon data that interfered with his evolution at the beginning of this route. However, if he has to fight, then he knows how to take care of things.

Aegisdramon is trying to push Arcturusmon into surrendering using its light-based attack, the Shine Breaker, however, a little bit of shining only makes Arcturusmon look better, since every scorching blast is rapidly avoided with his cape, causing a shining explosion behind him each time one of the blasts crashes with the walls, casting shadows upon his silhouette, making him look like a dark knight, with shining eyes, coming for it's pray.

After messing a little with Aegisdramon, Arcturusmon used a variation of the Black Confession, waving his GRB Factor covered drills in the air to make some of the particles almost stop in time for a second, just to then, swiftly point I'm his drill into the direction he wants the particles to go, creating an attack similar to Vamdemon's Night Raid... I know he is proud.

Down in the ground, Siriusmon and Dukemon are, once again fighting over who gets to defeat more digimon, and WHAT

OK

A huge, and when I say HUGE, I MEAN HUGE Deckerdramon just tried to Boltmon just tried to chop Dukemon in two with the Bousou! Naturally tho, Siriusmon covered his back!

The Sylvia blades stopped the axe just in time, allowing Dukemon to pierce Boltmon using his spear!

And, once again, with an elegant dance of blades and spear, the enemy team sees itself facing a tough situation, and even HUH!?

Siriusmon is charging a Breaquasar and Dukemon is on the way!? WAIT

I see

Using the impulse of the Breaquasar's shoot, Dukemon used his Gram lance's Royal Saber to reach the energy ball before the Sylvia's cut could reach it, causing a devastating explosion on the surroundings! Of course, Dukemon is kinda hurt, but "D" has more than enough Recovery Chips A for him!

On the other side...

Megidramon, a Digimon known for its cruelty and monstrous attitude is committing an altruistic act thanks to its Tamer.

It's carrying Andromon on its back, as he shoots the Gatling Missile: Rensha Mode towards the field, they seem to be moving in a random order, I wonder how Andromon can keep it up with that being a totally logical digimon, further than that... I wonder what it thought about Tyutyumon when we saw him...

No time for that, I need to keep on!

Something I've failed to mention until now because I can't keep up with everything at the same time, is that Fenriloogamon is using the Hróðvitnir to clone himself around the field and attack from the sides using the Jötunheimr Gale, since a Ragnarök Howling could also be a menace for our companions.

Ah!?

It appears that Tlalocmon and Kuzuhamon are joining forces! Using the Taizoukai Mandala, Kuzuhamon has been creating a reduced field around the enemies, allowing Tlalocmon to take advantage of it and summon the Netotiliztli, summoning a powerful storm that even resembles a hurricane, and then turning the raindrops into knives to quickly end the enemies!

Cannondramon and Spinomon on their side, are joining their powers to create a great explosive attack with the blasting of the Grenade Storm combined with the Sonic Slash Rain, that makes them blow up randomly!

As for the Vortex Warriors...

Why are they so... Intimidated...?

Huh-

HUH

THE FLOORGISHHAWHAT

[mary-wollstonedcraft]

kae tempest ft confucius ‘smoking’ x shiv roy

[whatanoof]

I have a few corruption ideas in mind for cal and I'm just. Okay so like-- reader grinding on/teasing him, maybe while they're hiding in a cave or an empty room in an inquisitor base-- purposefully to the point where he can't hold himself back and he just cums right then and there 👀

Or-- reader accidentally projecting some very, very dirty thoughts towards Cal (bonus points if it's virgin!/inexperienced!Cal), and his reaction to said thoughts ;3c

Don't feel obligated to turn these into full fics or anything tho!! I just like to share my thoughts w ppl and see what they think abt it 🥰💛

SKDJFO THESE ARE GOLD I LOVE THEM.

Oh babe, this isn’t an obligation. This is my PLEASURE. Don’t mind me with my slightly force sensitive reader learning how to weaponize her inexperience against her very innocent boyfriend.

A/N: These turned out a lot more fluffy than I had in mind at first, and probably more so than you had in mind, anon. I'll to expand a little more on these, but I wanted to give you what I have now. More to come!

NSFW TOWARDS THE END 18+

You were two weeks into your relationship the first time it happened. It’s early morning on Bogano, the rare off-day where Cal doesn’t have to take a quest anywhere. The grass glistens in the early morning light, dew droplets sending sparkles of light through the air. You sit in the field, watching the sunrise with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a steaming mug of caf clenched tightly in your hands, gracing your morning with its fragrant smell. Happy chirps and beeps echo through the stillness of the morning as BD-1 scampers around the field, chasing a butterfly that’s been disturbed from its early morning food quest. It’s so domestic that it almost hurts. It reminds you of life before the Purge, when everything was better. Except, now you have Cal.

Not beside you of course, he’s actually the reason that you’re even awake to see the dawn. He stands stock-still in the grass several meters in front of you. He’s relaxed, breathing in the crisp dawn air, eyes closed against the rays of light beginning to conquer the horizon line.

Cere stalks back and forth in front of him, “Focus, Cal.” She hefts a round fruit in her hands about as big as her head. “Sense the life around you. What do you feel?”

Cal pivots slowly on the spot until he’s facing you. “I feel you. And her.” His brow is creased in that one spot between his eyebrows. You want to kiss it. 

“Not us, Cal. The life all around us. There’s a reason I chose Bogano for this lesson.” Cere’s disapproving tone is a common staple around here. The crew has learned to accept it as a sign of affection.

“A bogling. On the ship. It’s looking for food.” Cal says.

You smile. The newest addition to the crew has been nothing but a joy to you and a pain in the ass to Greez. It’s always stealing his favorite snacks and making a mess of his ship, if you count it’s tiny nest in the corner of the kitchen to be ‘a mess’. 

“Better. Expand, Cal.”

Then you feel something at the edge of consciousness, something familiar and strange all at the same time. It wasn’t so much a thing, but a feeling. A presence. If you had to describe it in words, you couldn’t. But if you had to try, it would be in swaths of color and emotions that blend and swirl in the invisible eye of your mind. It’s warm, reds and oranges and yellows fluttering against each other, tinged around the edges by blue, the same blue as Cal’s saber. Cal. The presence is undeniably Cal, the warm colors echoing back to his fiery spunk and stubborn affection. 

Your eyes open. When had they closed? Cal is right there, his hand stretched out in your direction. Cere watches cautiously, eyes flicking between you and him. You see her reluctance to interrupt the moment. 

As if called back to the ground by your distraction, Cal opens his eyes with a soft gasp. The presence retreats, fading from your short grasp as you try to chase it. Your gaze bores into Cal, trying to focus your mind on reaching back out to him. But you can’t.

Cere speaks, “That’s enough Force training for today.” She tosses the previously forgotten fruit directly at Cal’s head. “Think fast. Form V today.”

His lightsaber materializes into his hand, cleanly slicing the offending object out of the air in a single smooth motion. But Cal doesn’t hesitate for a single moment, flowing through different saber forms without difficulty. Cere calls a variety of commands, and each gives way to another attack by Cal. The saber moves like it is an extension of his body, like a deadly serpent that flickers in and out of the air.

This continues for a long time, long enough that you have time to finish off your caf. The drink warms your insides. Watching Cal working so hard to strengthen his connection to the Force warms your heart. Examining the definition of his shoulders and his muscular torso warms other places. Your eyes drift to his ass, emboldened by the illusion of ignorance. You allow your mind to drift. 

You and Cal started dating two weeks ago. There was an irresistible pull between the two of you, to the point where the crew forced you two to acknowledge it. Cal had been cautious, but permission from Greez and a blessing from Cere was all the encouragement he needed, because as he had said so eloquently, “Like you. I like you. A lot.”

And you like Cal. A lot. Nothing physical had happened beyond a single makeout session and more cuddle sessions than you could count. You know that he’s unsure about sex, and because of that you’re more than willing to wait for him to be ready. But that doesn’t mean you can’t look and daydream. 

Your gaze drags over his body, imagining for a moment how it would feel. What it would be like, to be allowed close to him to make him feel good. What his skin would taste like, how your fingers would feel threaded through his bright hair. The sounds that he would make as you go down on him. 

A gasp from the field snaps you out of the daydream. Cal’s facedown on the ground; all you can make out of him from here is the fringe of his poncho and his shock of red hair contrasting against the green environment of Bogano. You stand, hurrying over as Cere helps him up.

“Cal?” She's concerned, you can see it in her eyes even if she won’t verbalize it. You’re worried too. In all of your time aboard the Mantis, you’d seen clumsy Cal maybe once before, and that was because he was goofing off in an attempt to make Greez laugh.

He doesn’t respond to Cere. His gaze snaps up to you, and he says your name urgently. Your brow creases, “What?”

His face is flushed red, and he’s panting as he shakily kneels in the grass. “I think you’re Force-sensitive.”

---

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be easy!” He looks so earnest, like a kicked puppy dog. You avert your eyes. Looking too long means that you will fall prey to the terrible innocent eyes.

“I said no. What’s so hard to understand about that?” You cross your arms tighter over your chest. You know that arguing is futile. Cal is the most stubborn person you know, even more so than Greez and you have witnessed the intense food aggression.

“Babe, it’s one rock. You’re not going to get hurt.”

“I might when it’s going to be flying at my face!” Cere had insisted that you learn to control your Force sensitivity, at the very least so that you could learn how to guard your mind from others. But, she placed Cal in charge of your training. Merrin’s Force abilities were nothing close to what you could hope to accomplish, and you believe Cere’s exact words were, “It will be good for Cal to learn just how irritating training a Padawan can be.”

And so your Jedi boyfriend became your Jedi Master. It was quickly determined that your Force sensitivity was nothing close to the level of Jedi. Your talents extended to thought projection, minor thought detection abilities, and, as Cal had been so excited to learn, basic telekinesis. 

That had been an accidental discovery, actually, brought out of a session wrestling with the Mantis’s control board wiring. You’d lost concentration for a split second, and in a flash of light and electricity, you were nursing a burnt finger. Merrin was attracted to your area by the flash of light and pained cry, and was incredibly surprised to find you with various medical supplies hovering in front of your face while you soaked and bandaged your finger. And she’d snitched on you.

So now you’re on a no name forest planet, facing down your boyfriend who’s threatening to throw a rock at your head in order to force out your hidden telekinesis, because as soon as Merrin witnessed the feat, you’d lost all voluntary control over it.

“Cal, this is a bad idea.”

“Do you have a better one?”

“Yes. Leave me alone. I can shield my thoughts now, that’s all I wanted to do.”

“Oh come on. It doesn’t excite you even a little?”

It does, but not enough that you’d be willing to have a rock thrown at your face. You roll your eyes and throw your hands up, “I’m going back to the ship.”

But as soon as you turn, something sparks on the edge of your conscious mind, and you whirl with an outstretched hand. The rock sails past your fingers and bonks you on the forehead. You clap a hand over your head as pain throbs at the point of contact. “Ow!”

You whip your head up and glare at Cal, who’s standing there, mouth agape and eyes so wide that you can see the whites from here. When he meets your eyes, he shrinks back and turns to run.

“Cal Kestis you are going to pay for that!” You lunge after him, nearly tripping over a root as you scramble after your soon-to-be dead boyfriend. 

He disappears around the corner of the clearing with you hot on his heels. Trees tower over your head in every direction. The only thing interrupting the perfect vision of nature is the dorsal fin of the Mantis spearing up into the sky, guiding you to safety.

And Cal’s running away from it, leading you further into the forest. Branches whip at your face, but you can’t pay attention to them when you’re focusing harder on not losing Cal as he ducks and weaves through the foliage with all of the ease of a jungle cat. Then you round a corner, and he’s gone. 

You’re gasping for breath as you stumble to a stop in the midst of the forest. Damn it Cal. You want to rest, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow Cal to get away with this. He knows that if he gets away now, you’re probably going to be cooled down by the time he gets back to the Mantis, and you can’t have that. You tamp down your anger. Gather yourself. Feel the world around you. Now hold it at arms’ length. You bring your mental shields up slowly, guarding yourself and calming your racing heart through a few deep breaths. Then, you let the barriers down, allowing the world to rush back into your mind. You exhale slowly, combing through the sensations like Cal had taught you, searching for the presence that had become so familiar over the past few months. There!

A flash of warm colors in the midst of the muted Force signatures of plants.

You whirl, scanning the tree branches above you in time to see Cal make a break for it. He’s overhead, about ten feet off of the ground and running along a tree branch so gracefully that it seems like he’s skimming across the air. He’s heading for a vine. ‘Sneaky little--’

‘Sneaky little what?’

You gasp as he teases back through the Force. Your brow sets in determination, and you narrow your gaze on the vine that he’s reaching out for. You settle on it, and reach out. Your consciousness brushes the vine, pulling it just out of Cal’s reach. His outstretched fingers close just short of the vine, and he loses his balance.

He hits the ground with an oof and you plant a foot on his chest. “Sneaky little laserbrain.”

“Babe you did it!” He grins up at you, unrepentant and ruffled from the mad dash through the forest, “Don’t you love your amazing boyfriend who just helped you to learn another Force trick?”

You smile, “I do. But--” you press harder on his chest with your boot, “--you’re still going to pay for that.”

He groans, “I just paid by falling out of a tree. How else would I make it up to you?”

Without your bidding, ideas leap to your mind. “Oh, I have some.” Cal, between your legs and making you cum with only his mouth. You, on your knees for Cal against one of these trees. Riding Cal back on the Mantis, topless and gasping his name as he brushes up against that one spot inside of you that makes you sing. You don’t project them, but you’re aware that your shields aren’t up, and Cal’s Force presence is hovering on the edge of yours.

Cal’s face reddens as he gapes up at you. All of this time, and he still gets worked up at the bare idea of you naked. It’s a little cute. He springs to his feet, “Let’s go back to the ship.”

You hum, looking at him thoughtfully, ‘We don’t need to go back to the ship for a couple of those.’

He chokes, and you smile as you grab the front of his poncho and back him against a large tree. This is going to be fun.

[a-home-for-stray-stories]

Empty

Eris x Reader

This was just a quick scene during the last battle that's been stuck in my head.

Eris was surrounded, but a warm sliver of light cut through the air beside him. You winnowed to his side as shock flashed across his face.

"Oh please..." You murmured, "Isn't this the definition of allies?"

A smirk cut across his face, "A member of the prestigious Inner Circle, coming to my aid? How scandalous..."

You rolled your eyes, "I can still leave."

He roasted some of the Hybern army getting too close to your side. You both took in the sight of the remaining soldiers approaching.

"This typically works better if we're back to back." He offered.

Without more words, the two of you positioned yourselves and starting spewing fire. You didn't allow yourself to think too much about it. Who was standing behind you. About what Mor would think. Whether she saw you - helping one of the men she hates most.

Burned bodies were piling up, yet they kept coming. You and Eris held that circle of land, dare you say, easily. This team the two of you created was proving to be unstoppable - something else you wouldn't think about at the moment. Then, they stopped coming.

Eris ended up beside you - you both covered in dirt, sweat, and ash.

"You sure you're not from Autumn Court?" He huffed out.

You took some deep breaths, "Honestly, I wish I was. Just so I'd know."

"Eh, be glad you're not." He turned to survey the scene, "My father would have had you locked up only to be used for special occasions."

"Like today?"

He let out a laugh, "Like today."

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Something was coming.

"Get behind me." You told him.

The cauldron roared to life straight towards you. Either you were about to do something really cool or you were about to die.

It took everything within you but a shield sprang to life. The cauldrons power splattered and cracked against your fire wall. Your muscles screamed as you held that blast at bay.

The cauldron finally lost power and you dropped to your knees - completely spent. A hand slipped under your arm and helped you up. There was awe in Eris' eyes.

"That's not from Autumn Court."

He held you steady as you let out a small laugh.

"You saying you can't do that?" Picking at his ego.

"I'm here helping you, and you poke fun at me?"

Before you could answer, a thick spear hurtled into your stomach. The King's laugh echoed across the battlefield.

Eris was talking, but you couldn't hear anything. You knees gave out, but instead of dropping to the dirt, you were lowered gently. His eyes darted up and down the spear - you swore there was concern in his eyes. His arm was across your shoulders making sure you didn't fall forward. He couldn't pull the damn thing out, you'd bleed to death in an instant. Healers were scattered across the field, but nowhere near. He sent a message to Rhys and then did the only thing he could.

A wall of fire sparked around you both. Resting his forehead against yours, your world went black. Slowly an image came into view. Two mountains split by a valley fully of wildflowers and showcasing a single, massive tree. The smell of death was replaced with fresh air and far off rain. The cool wind wrapped around your skin and moved through the meadow. You reveled in it beauty until darkness seeped in.

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY- Re:Introduction to the Great Multiverse

A young girl in a red hood walks across a snowy field under the full moon sky. A faint voice could be heard from the distance.

This will be the day we've waited for.

This will be the day we open up the door.

She blinks in awe. In the centre of the field, she can see a pack of wolves gathering together. They turn to her and snarl. From her back, she pulls out a red and black rifle and begins shooting.

"Just as it should be," boomed an ominous voice.

A man in a black suit approached an empty throne room and sat down. With all his might, he summoned a sword and plunged it into the ground.

I don't wanna hear your absolution

Hope you're ready for a revolution

In front of him were several ghostly figures armed with weapons. One by one, they struck him until there was no longer life left in his body. His chest was pierced with his own sword and blood spilled to the floor.

"Just as it should be."

In the depths of a murky wasteland, a young, black-haired woman looks to the sky as three orbs of light electrify the red skies. Her body was reaching its limit. Beaten. Broken.

Welcome to a world of new solutions

Welcome to a world of bloody evolution

She drew her katana one last time and charged towards the direction of the red light, shouting a battle cry.

"Just as it should be."

A young boy looks up to see a girl in a black dress and red hood. In her hand, she carries an elegant, long broadsword. Suddenly, she dashes off and attacks a man wielding a red spear. Their movements are fast as lightning, with the young boy barely able to keep up.

"Just as it should be."

In time, your heart will open minds

Ignoring the danger that the glowing spear was causing to her, a caped superhero flies towards a titanic beast. The beast roars as it's held back by a golden lasso, struggling to break free. As it becomes more feral with rage, a grenade is launched and explodes a lethal green gas, followed by swift plunge to heart from the spear.

"Just as it should be."

A story will be told

In the ruined cities, two heroes were fighting for their lives. Not against villains, but each other. One was wearing a white, armoured suit while another carried a green and yellow shield. The armoured one tried to gain the upper hand with her blaster gauntlets but the shield warrior got the best of her and slammed her to the ground. He raised his shield up to deliver the final blow.

"Just as it should be," the voice said. "Destiny shall stay its course and these worlds, these abominations, shall cease."

And victory is in a simple soul

In an empty world, Ozma opened his eyes in a panic. Standing before him was the God of Light himself.

"W-What was that?" he panted. "Were those visions of the future?!"

"No," answered the God of Light. "Those were other worlds, extensions beyond the first world that you saw... and they're in danger."

Ozma's mouth gaped wide open. Other worlds? Was this a test that the god was putting him through?

"O-Other worlds?" he asked.

"Yes. The world we created is but one of many. There are countless worlds, each one overseen by a guardian. The five you have witnessed are in danger."

Ozma gulped. Who could cause that much danger to five worlds?

"What danger exactly?"

From the God of Light's hand sprung forth a ghostly projection. "He calls the Harbinger of Fate. He doesn't like it when events stray their supposed natural path. He sends his army of Whispers to tamper with worlds either to correct the course or destroy them outright."

"But I don't understand," Ozma interjected. "If events are supposed to happen in accordance with destiny, why should we stop it?"

"Because," the God of Light said calmly, "these worlds have a right to make their own decisions, to forge their own path separate from our world. Destiny is cruel and limits the potential of everyone. Ozma, you must save these worlds, help them forge their paths free of destiny. Can you do that?"

Ozma stood up and breathed deep. "I'll do it. But I'm gonna need some help. Champions of light to fight this darkness."

"Very well. Good luck."

(Sort of a reboot to my multiverse idea. Hope you guys like it! And yes, these are the same Whispers from Final Fantasy VII Remake. 😅)

[alchemisland]

The Moors Mutt - I

Part II coming on Tuesday!

I. Old Stone

The beast I knew only in folkloric snippets. Hedge whispers perverting history to arcana through time immemorial. Perhaps too I had known it in nightmares, shapeless until named, becoming then familiar as a bedchamber.

It was grim autumn when that fateful letter arrived, setting in motion a chain of events both strange and unlikely. In retrospect, that a series of vignettes so bizarre could start with the simple act of a posted letter seemed comical.

The letter landed with a thud, dubbing me sole executor of the late Lady Renton Sizemore's last will, a grim charge requiring a trip to her wicked home, listed in the Briarscombe country house register as the third most bloodstained holding in England.

Dislike isn't the word. Lady Sizemore and I got on famously when last we spoke, thirty years ago. I wasn't the doting schoolboy turned dribbling manchild spending Saturday nights at bingo. Neither was she the elderly relation procuring coins from behind ears to the delight of the youngers.

We were not eachother's keeper. Why I was suddenly favoured for this sensitive task that required more mental finesse than anyone in the family gave me credit for out loud, puzzled me greatly. Somebody must have annoyed her at one of her events. Sandwich gala on the Pringle Estate destroyed by careless nephew's untucked shirt. In true family style, whatever infuriated her she took to the grave.

Once the money was apportioned, I was to ensure no stone went unturned, apt phrasing given its namesake. Cairn Cottage stood oppressively atop the mound some two hundred winters, a plundered megalith shielding against the bracing gales.

Up there the flowers bloomed blighted, grass grew sideways and only the sturdiest roots survived. Without the megalith's girth, perhaps those winds might have toppled the twisted demesne, but she held firm now as old.

Mystics, druids and spiritualists alike extolled the house's phantasmic virtues. Fringe groups scrambled to reserve exclusive use of the land for Candlemas ceremonies. Lady Sizemore didn't care, provided she was soundly remunerated.

Rumours abounded of hauntings, anomalies occurring on the land by midnight's trickery.

Upon receipt of instruction, I spurred my carriage toward Cairn Cottage, the house in whose shadow no local walked without rosaries.

Although my visit was primarily administrative, there was another matter pertinent to my interests. One muttering which above all others inspired fear. A cautionary tale warning children from the grounds by night. And sometimes, on cold and lonely nights, a brave man wandering alone might see fit to take the longer road home.

Worse than druids, they said a beast lived on the Moor. A hulking creature, whose snarling teeth bared in fullness of dark glowed like spears of starlight, whose stark brightness was dulled only by the gleaming viscera of previous engagements clinging in ragged flaps.

However the rumour started, it long sprouted legs of its own, more exciting with each recounting.

No smoke without fire. I intended to find the single primal ember, the lone truthful element, stripped of frill and frock, fancy and folly, bereft of myth, or loyalty to tradition. Was there something in the fields by night? Was it dangerous?

First came Sperrin, a grizzly hamlet outside the estate's confines. For a penny, a local lad promised to find a suitable nook for the trap. I visited the sole watering hole, a squalid cellar named Lar's. The tavern itself was not charmless, offering average vintage for below average prices, warmth, music, rustic flattery and inimitably, whispers of the beast.

The tavern's proprietor Lar was a man out of time. With his arms folded across his simian chest and those big lugs like trophy handles either side of his substantial forehead, he could have easily passed for a saxon chieftain. He stood astride the bar against a backdrop of coloured bottles. Immediately upon entering his eyes set upon me with great intensity. Unlike the merry keep of fireside tales, he offered no warmth in greeting. That you were found fit to sit his barstool was kindness enough.

Inebriates remained nursing drams, glowering at their respective lecterns. Occasionally I'd catch one staring at me, then turn away as I waved. After a while sitting and sipping, making a game of catching their nosy glances, I signalled Lar's attention. 'This is probably going to sound strange. Probably because it is. Hear me out though. Have you ever heard or seen anything strange out on the moor?'

Widened like an owl, Lar's right eye scanned me once, twice, three times before he moved a muscle. 'Have in fact. Not now though. Too many around. Later.' His lips barely moved. I tipped my nose.

Nearer closing, he poured a cup and sat, remaining on the business side of the bar.

'The beast, you say?' He leaned in close, one eyebrow raised, its shape the arching rod of a hooked line. 'I could tell you a thing or two about the beast alright.'

'Prithee speak, my curiosity is burning. I won't rest a wink until it's satiated. Tourist talk aside, do you believe, as men do God, a beast prowls these forests?' I inched forward, as if by closer proximity, the truths would be truer.

'Regular Theseus, eh? Monster hunters, we have had plenty. Lovers of darkness too. Students of forbidden arts. All are served here. Kings and paupers alike. Did you come all this way to hear me say that?' Lar spoke with great confidence. The manner of his prattling meant the tales he told were true, or this was practiced.

'No.' I replied, 'I have business in the cottage. My heart though, she belongs to this creature. I am not a quack, nor a holder of séances. I am not a man of low learning on the hunt for falsehoods. I am a lover of stories. Pray, continue your captivating narrative.'

He continued, 'Let it be said I was coaxed. You wanted this.'

In this ominous portent he let slip a mask of deft craft. There was artifice in his smile, a cheshire grin that touched either cheekbone. A whispered suggestion of hidden intent.

Everything made sense. Was I seeing clearly? More than ever. I saw his ruse; city boy down for the day, take him for a ride, tell him the usual stories. A pal of his will burst in at just the right time, scare me half to death, then they'll take me to the supposed hot-spot for the low price of everything I've got. Lar took me for a lettuce. Something in his warning tipped me. A little over-arch. If his performance was not theatre, then Shakespeare never wrote.

Doubtless once finished, Lar would proffer some overpriced talisman no fellwalker could risk refusing.

'Enough pussyfooting. Spill it. I'll need all the advice I can get.' Like a drill tip, I pressed my index finger into the bar.

'No matter what image I conjure in your mind's eye, the beast is yet more ferocious and terrible in the flesh. It's the great unreality of it.' He tapped his forehead. 'Your mind doubts what it's seeing, unable to comprehend its stimulus. Brave men are made mice in its shadow.'

'What evidence have you of such a creature?' I asked, draining my tankard. He did the same, then wiped the amber residue on the back of his hand. He looked me over once, as if to ask who I was to question. I returned a withering gaze, maneuvering my features to convey a similar message. For a moment the air felt charged with kinetic possibility. As when two pugilists circle to begin a contest, lead hands pawing. Neither of us wished to be responsible for qualms.

He broke the armistice. 'Evidence? If you didn't think it weren't here, you wouldn't have come. If you believed in your heart this week you'd be contending with a monster, you'd have stayed at home in your jams.'

'Nonsense, man! You forget I am summoned, not here of my own volition.'

'We, each of us, tell ourselves sweet little lies to justify how our limited time is spent. I have a right mind to think if the lady yet lived, you and I might still have met. On a yawning stretch such as this, arriving as you have: alone and curious. If there's one thing I can't respect, it's a self hating believer. Swanning around with all the cynicism of a non-believer, clad in the robes of an adherent, so that when the hobby is proved spurious you can point to your skepticism. You'd be first to the papers tomorrow if scientists verified the beast's existence, how you had journeyed and studied on your own dime to further the science.' Lar pursed his lips, knowing he'd cut me to the quick, vanished was his earlier reticence.

I hated how right he was. I was exactly this sort. Insulting people who believed the same things as me. First to refuse to enter a haunted house for fear a demon might take my soul.

I'd never concede his point though. I riposted, 'Few are more loathed than the opinionated barman. You speak much too readily. Do so again, I'll see your manners are checked for the next weary traveler willing to pay good coin.'

Lar's eyes lit, bulging with imagined riches. 'Let me fill your drink, sir. I meant no offence. We speak freely here. Manners soften. Soon one finds truths cannot be digested unperfumed. Here in the wilds, it's a duty to voice quarrel. Far from crown and court, unaired anger festers.' Lar gladly dispensed his pearls of rural wisdom as if they were sweets from a bulging striped bag.

'Really, man. Every idea can be made ridiculous if extrapolated to that degree. Manners take the edge off. I'm not offended by your candor. I intend to find the creature, if such exists. Have you no doubt about that.' I watched him pull another drink.

The returned tankard was too full to raise without spilling. I slurped loudly, head bowed. Like a pulled plug, half the liquid gone in a single gulp.

'What evidence is sufficient? Look around you.' Lar held aloft his hands, urging me toward his empty business, still cast in a sickly light from the last flickering sentinels.

He pointed toward the empty seats. A single patron remained hidden in the shadows. A local by his boots.

'We did a roaring trade before that bloody woman inherited the place. Once she came, the trade died. When I was a lad, that land was free to roam. No walls. She had them built to spite us. Worse rumours too and all, that she built those walls to house it.'

'It?' I asked

'It. The beast.' Lar's voice lowered to a whisper. 'A cage for a pet beyond control. That's your sort all over. Dabbling where you shouldn't.'

'Her sort.' I corrected, 'I'm not aristocratic. You're a presumptuous sort, you know.'

'Believe you're not the first to say. Her sort, whatever pleases. I don't subscribe to this theory. Me personally, I think it came from hell. One thing's for certain, it got worse when they shifted the cairn.'

'You say you have seen it?' Part of me thought I was the one stringing him along, but another more gullible me firmly believed, or wanted to believe, that he had seen something. Hoping not to seem needy, I drew myself close to him, the bar still between us, 'With your own eyes if you saw it, you must swear it now. Did you see it as I see you now, or as one sees the distant stars and erroneously assumes knowledge.'

'As I stand before you.' Lar gestured to his stained apron, which he then removed and hung on a hook overhead. He nodded to the barfly, who stumbled from his seat and shot the bolt across the lock, an angry black mechanism like a bas-relief, which clanked against the timber as he let it fall. 'That's Fergus.'

Fergus lurched over. One leg trailed behind him. I couldn't help imagining him as a gothic manservant, dragging corpses to the laboratory in pursuit of higher knowledge. He came to stand beside me. There were giants on the earth is those days. Though our eyes observed the same setpieces, his countenance betrayed little comprehension. He had the chiseled jaw of a marble bust in profile, but his mouth hung open permanently, moist lips pursed like a fish.

He placed an enormous hand on my shoulder. Such space was permitted between his splayed fingers that ten legions abreast might find passage unmolested. His knuckles protruded unnaturally, evidence of labour, something harder than masonry or smithcraft. Mayhaps soldiering overseas.

I stared at his hand. He never looked at me. I coughed, first mannerly, then more harshly, thinking to approach cautiously lest my assumption prove provident, that he had lost his sound during foreign campaigns, of whose spoils we all were beneficiaries.

'Don't mind him.' Lar said. He spoke softly in the presence of his friend, observing his movements closely, ready to interject with a steadying hand or a warning to the cruelly curious. I wondered were they brothers. They bore little resemblance, though stranger things I had heard. Lar took Fergus' wrist and pressed gently, disturbing the folds of his motheaten jacket. They shared a moment I could but observe, radiating warmth and glad tidings in a wordless wave.

'I mean not to speak boldly, and lash me with spite if I transgress overmuch, but I must know or I should forever wonder, are you kin?'

Fergus shared Lar's laugh with the same look of bemused ignorance.

'You hear that? Fancy man reckons we're brothers. Probly thinks we're all related down this end, and not in a godly way.' Lar laughed, a viking bellow.

Lar released his grip and the folds of Fergus' sleeve righted themselves. He spoke several octaves lower, miming offence at my observation. I started to explain I intended no hidden subtext, but Lar waved to indicate all was taken as delivered.

'We are not brothers. Close friends. Known Fergus here forever.' He gently tapped the giant's hand, slapped on the bar like some enormous muddy bird print. 'Used to be a keen cookie too, once upon a forever ago. Loved languages, Welsh mostly. Pugilism he loved more. One passion consumed the other. Anything burning so intensely inevitably cannibalises itself. Took one knock too many, stole his wits in an instant. A left hook across the bar sent him erstwhile. Twenty five minutes he was on the shores of night, learning the landscape of the dreamworlds, while we fanned his rigid form, wet his brow and whispered familiar names in his ear. When at last he woke a part of him was left forever in that place. I like to think, boyishly perhaps, it awaits him upon leaving this plain of lousy strife, like the belongings awaiting a homeward jailbird. The cloak of a lost lifetime. Not for him. He'll slide right into it, fit like a tailored piece, and all of eternity to speak. Not here though.'

Tears welled in his eyes. I took the reins, 'Think nothing of your emotions, man. We each have them. Doubtless I will shed a tear up in the old witch's place. Another life awaits, that much is sure. Grander than this. I'm sure he made, and makes, a fine man. Built like a gladiator. I am sorry to have dredged unpleasantness. I meant only to satisfy my own selfish curiosity. Forgive me. Please, continue.'

'I will at that.'

'It were one night, three years ago. Ferg was there. We'd been called out on account of strange noises near the workers' cottage. They wouldn't work until the evil was killed or driven away. We came down from the high road proper and saw it between the trees ahead. Like a horse it stood, with clumsy stilts supporting an ursine bulk that swayed as it shambled. It drank shadows to conceal its dread presence. Blackness it took for robe. In walking its front paws propelled its cumbersome form, while the rear set, less lengthy, dredged channels in the dirt. In motion it arched to reveal a belly spun of lighter felt, ashen in the scant moonlight. Bundled, it became an orb of shadow, nothingness.'

'Unbeknownst we watched it watching, green eyes like blazing protostars probing for movement. Well it knew to choose this site, one of only two wells being located nearby. In a flash then it was gone, satin-shoed away into the night.'

The tale Lar knew was a scorcher paused. He beamed, an actor awaiting applause. I gathered my jaw from the floor, brushed it and set it back properly.

Each word drew me closer, which Fergus mirrored, until we three sat as witches about the bubbling lip of their cauldron, a coven of pallid specters.

Lar paused to sip and nodded we join.

I wondered had my hobby, in a blink, become too dangerous to justify. It was well telling my employers of ghost hunts, but a wild beast - my insurance wouldn't have it! If it turns out some menagerie escapee, what then was it? Quest for wonder or recklesss folly? Weiss, Wellie and Wardun insurance, even in their most obscure policies, don't pay out for fools. That's why I chose them!

Lar went on, a fresh cigarette painting the air blue in his articulation, 'Each new, shifting moon we came to that spot and watched. We took it upon ourselves to rid the land of danger.'

'Fergus knows a bit about a bit, that's what's left to him, God bless. What he knows is knots. Army training dictates every officer have at least passing knowledge of ten or more useful fastenings.'

'Me? I know about animals. We make a fierce duo. We inquired in advance about a reward, to which the estate responded agreeably, so we set off with lengths of rope overshoulder and the angriest looking traps the furmen could spare, determined to snare it. We planted snares all about its presumed domain.'

'Nothing came. Not a rat. Not a wisp. Not never again. It's the mystery disturbs me most. I'd die happy knowing.'

In his voice a single note of longing rang, dispelling the subterfuge of his intentions and, in the length of a breath, his beings and inner machinations were laid bare. Far from the sinister goldlust and murderous intention I had silently attributed to him, he seemed eager in an earnest fashion, willing in the name of a job done.

I observed Lar, powerful and straight. 'Do I sense an unfinished quest?'

'Aye. Not too subtle, mind.' Lar flashed a toothy smile, the sort a condemned man spits at his executioner. 'You seem a serious man. I didn't know when you first came in parading your manners like fancy knickers. You can't be too sure about a man who gives too many pleases. You're not that sort and have proved such twice over.' Lar imagined that was a compliment from the look he gave me. Expectant almost, between child submitting scribbles for display and cat batting dead mouse onto pillow.

Well, of course I had something to say about that. Cats were hissing. A donnybrook of claws and torn fur not even a hearty stock of iodine could salve. 'And I might say also that I too had cast aspersions on your character, maintaining you were of sinister country stock. As you claim to have been rapturously convinced otherwise, as have I.'

'Once the lady's estate is divided and bequeathed I'll receive my own. I mean to inherit a substantial bursar. I will pay to you a fair sum. In exchange, you will guide me to the hotpots, generally ensuring nothing eats me. When we find it, you're in charge until it's bound.' If he came, it would be on my terms.

'Find it? Slow down. We've seen it once in a hundred times. I'll take you gladly all the same.'

Wordless, we shook hands and drained our horns.

'Tomorrow?' Lar asked. He drew my gaze to an unopened whiskey bottle, which I declined.

'Not so, good man. Tomorrow I will tend my affairs. In the evening, if all is ordered, I will return to discuss further a plan of action. Have you a room I might rent?'

'Not for everyone mind, so don't go saying. There's one in the back. I'll light the fire.'

'Please do.'

I left a generous tip. Before following the publican to the warm hollow, I shook Fergus' hand, assuming he too would be part of our fortean friendship.

While I slumbered, the nightmare broke free her paddock, thundering across the veil of my somnambulant phantasmagoria, its clanging hooves ringing shrill terror.

I saw spined creatures oozing pus, many-eyed. Edgeless orbs hissing like flying snakes from one black abyss to another.

Cats with human faces screamed. A hairless man with a tail curled upwards like a scorpions noxious pike disemboweled himself with a broken mirror.

Last came the bestial form, not unlike that which Lar had described, striding evilly. Two venom coated fangs, uncontained by its snarling mouth, curved inward toward its breast. Catlike claws glinted menacingly. Turning my third eye downwards as if to look upon my feet, I found I was formless, yet the beast circled knowingly around the space my corporeal form should occupy.

I knew instinctively this reverie was more tangible than the others. That if the beast should strike I would die or wake screaming with a crimson pool spreading below me. It sniffed the air, pawing closer.

I woke to my beastless chamber. Sodden, I sought a candle and in its gloam chronicled my nightmare. That night sleep ne'er returned, making groggy my morning plod toward Cairn Cottage.

[yaninus-de-venoix]

so as someone who does both hand to hand martial arts and armored combat (medieval swordfighting), and is significantly smaller than nearly everyone I fight - size absolutely does matter, but not in the way people think. like, being small doesn't make me less likely to win (at least, not in the long run), but it definitely does change the way I fight. a foot or so doesn't make a big difference for hand to hand, though the added mass + strength + leverage that usually comes with size does. (doesn't mean you can't win, you just have to do things a little differently). but with melee weapons, it's a longer lever, so the differences get magnified.

I'm barely 5'3", around 115 lbs, light build, mainly using a smallish heater shield and a broadsword that's a bit on the short side. thinking about the most extreme size differences I've encountered and how those play out... there's a guy who comes to the weekly practice in my area who's like 6'3", former body builder, built like a brick, and mainly fights with a spear. now THAT does make a difference, because our ranges are so different. he can hit me way before I can, and by the time I can reach him, I'm closer in than he really wants me to be, since I have more mobility in close range. so when we spar, I end up basically chasing him around the field just trying to get close enough to hit him. not that it's an unwinnable fight!- I'm usually about 1:1 with that guy, actually - but it looks very different from fighting someone with smaller reach.

extrapolating that out to an even bigger size difference... if you have a 3' tall person fighting an 8' tall person, I'd expect the viable options to be 1. range weapons, or 2. force the fight up close. if you have to fight melee in an open field, you better be agile enough to close the distance, fast. otherwise, back them against a wall, or in a corner. get close enough that they can't maneuver, and now the odds are tipped way in your favor. that's the ticket, get through the Danger Zone (the range where they can hit you and you can't hit them) as fast and defensively as possible, so you can get to the Stabbing Zone (where you can comfortably hit them and they have to twist around to hit you).

being close in might not inconvenience the tall person so much in hand-to-hand combat, where you don't need room to swing - I know folks who can throw a helluva punch in less than 2 inches - but you at least need to be able to reach them if you want a decent chance of winning.

I've seen your posts about size not being significant in fights and an under 5 foot tall person can reasonably fight someone over 6 feet in melee. But I'm writing sci fi and I have alien races where some adults are 3 feet tall and others are 8 feet tall? Is size now important? It's realistic sci-fi. What I mean is, like I've never questioned Yoda fighting humans but because of the non realistic Force so I bought it. But I do kinda question pure martial arts.

So, when you're comparing two humans, a foot of height difference doesn't significantly affect their reach. Humans are all equivalently unstable (roughly speaking) (we're all bipeds), so the difference of a few inches of limb length. Outside of very specific edge cases, this doesn't have a lot of combat implications. Basically, anything you do with your hands will bring you inside your opponent's strike range.

However, we're not talking about two humans, which means a lot of the assumptions, based on the fighters having similar physiology, are no longer relevant. Limb length can't be reliably tied to height (overall), nor can the characteristics of those limbs. A fight between an octopus and horse is going to look very different from a fight between a Wookie and an Ewok.

There's a serious problem in popular science fiction, with the appearance of alien life. Because (most) science fiction series and films relies on actors wearing prosthetics to represent the aliens, we get a lot of scifi where the vast majority of aliens are just humans but with funny rubber foreheads. This isn't as pronounced in literary science fiction, but the trend is still there.

There's an understandable kind of narcissism in looking at yourself and saying, “well, I look normal,” but, to put it very bluntly, humans are goddamn weird as a species on a number of fronts. Including our physiology. If you're looking at, “realistic sci-fi,” the odds of encountering another bipedal, roughly human looking, race are almost non-existent.

Star Trek explicitly responded to this idea, though it took them over 25 years to address, with an advanced alien race that seeded genetic data across the galaxy millions of years ago, resulting in manyraces that looked suspiciously like humans in makeup. This entire justification doesn't stand up well to scrutiny, but at least an attempt was made.

The standardized bipedal template isn't inherently a problem from the perspective of presenting aliens as other people. However, actually encountering a species in outer space with two two arms, two legs, a head with eyes, ears, a nose, and a mouth in a familiar configuration, is a genere convention, and makes no sense from an exobiology (or xenobiology) perspective.

It's worth remembering that humans are genetically coded to be xenophobic to near humans. Specifically, I'm talking about the, “uncanny valley,” and it usually comes up in relation to attempts to create human simulacra, particularly with humanoid animatronics. It is very likely this instinct would kick in hard with near human aliens, and may kick in with divergent human species. (Which is to say, humans who have spent enough generations on other worlds to result in physiological adaptations. It's also quite possible that the uncanny valley is, in fact, the result of now extinct near human divergent species, such as Neanderthal.) Or, put another way, being in the same room as a Vulcan would be absolutely terrifying on a genetic level.

So, do the height differences matter in this situation? I'm not sure they do. If the example is two, roughly similar bi-pedal fighters, then yes, if only because of reach. However, when we're talking about two alien races, we really don't have a baseline, and that throws off all our assumptions.

-Starke

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