#I've been taking screenshots and saving to a draft the night before

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Sun in eyes

BONUS COMIC REVIEW: 

Issue 17 mini comic: Marc Spector - The Worship of False Idols

You guys. You guys have no idea. This is it. This is the reason I fell utterly in love with Moon Knight. I'm so excited.

When I found Moon Knight (I'll get to that discovery in a later review) I just had to know who he was. I stayed up all night downloading and reading everything. 

When I got to this piece it must have been 3am and this is what made me obsessed. 

What's hilarious is that this mini comic comes at the end of a really dramatic Marc Spector heavy issue in which he's dark and angsty and violent. 

And then...You get this. This delightful idiot man that's just doing his best. 

Let's get into it! 

I wonder if this image of Marc might be what inspired Doctor Grant from the show. 

We open with Marc holding a machete and making his way through a jungle in South America. 

Narration: Long before there was a Moon Knight, there was Marc Spector. Though he wore but a single name, he operated under many guises... Soldier of fortune, treasure seeker, courier, mercenary, were a few of those guises. 

He was a man whom Moon Knight can now look back on with only slender pride - A strong man, yes, and thoroughly determined, but often a ruthless man, one who braved danger only for money. This is one of his stories." 

Such lovely narration. Painting a picture of a gruff killer for hire out for a buck and not afraid to get dirty for it. 

We see him hacking his way through a jungle and complaining the whole time. 

"Must've hacked my way through thirty miles of this green hell..." 

He had previously met with a drunken archeologist (probably at a bar) who told him about a beautiful ugly idol made of solid gold. 

He finds a clearing and there sits the idol 

He doesn't find this suspicious at all. 

There's going to be a lot of screenshots in this review. 

(flat in the dirt again.) 

The dog apparently belongs to an archeologist nearby. His wife comes out of the tent, remarking that he's probably out drinking again. (Marc's info source). 

She looks around and notices the Idol is missing. She shrugs and goes back to the tent. 

She has a busy day tomorrow if she's to keep looking for a big discovery that she thinks is very near. 

Marc wakes in a dark underground cavern. 

Now we get to watch this poor man try to think this through. 

"But I can't carry any more than I've already got.

Maybe I should substitute-take something else-something better...

No-The archaeologist in the bar said this idol is the choice one--the one that'll command the highest price from collectors and museums--worth far more than its weight in gold.

But if I leave now, I'll never find this place again. Not before those archaeologists do--and by then they'll have armed guards swarming this place... 

Got to decide now-cuz I won't be able to change my mind later..." 

Marc decides to keep the one he already has. 

He follows a draft and finds himself in a bat cave with Guano up to his calves. 

Oh Marc…Oh no…

Oh no.

Oh no

Marc no…

Marc no…stop…

Buddy…pal….Beloved hero of my heart…

I mean…He saves them. Marc isn’t as heartless as he thinks he is. Just cause he’s having a bad day doesn’t mean they have to have one too. 

And now… I give you my hero. The light of my life. My obsession. My sweet cheese. My good time boy.

Damn Marc, that’s a nice leg. 

Marc makes it back to the town. 

He staggers towards where he's staying, looking forwards to a week in bed and then cashing in his idol for the sweet sweet dough (get that bread Marc). 

Suddenly, his thoughts of rest are interrupted by someone shouting "Three Dollars American!" 

He looks over to see the archeologist and his wife talking. 

She admonishes him for taking so long to get back to the newly discovered temple....then asks him why he keeps guying the cheap plaster idols. 

Marc looks over to a stand with a man selling "Genuine Inca idols straight from the temple of the sun!"

This is Marc Spector everyone. Mercenary dark and tormented and angry and violent killing machine Marc Spector. 

The man that can’t forgive himself and that no one loves easily. A man that is hated and feared. 

I don’t read Moon Knight for the dark action. I read Moon Knight for moments like this. 

This is what made me fall in love. Not the white cape, the mental health, the DID, the religiously tortured soul, the hero that needs saving…

This man that is having the worst time and still he stumbles into the sunset because DAMN IT he worked hard to get there and he’s going to get something out of it… But at the end of the day, he’s no further along than the rest of us. 

He probably had a drink and went to bed after this. Maybe laughing to himself. Maybe laughing about all the close calls. Maybe crying a little. 

But he didn’t go back to rob the excavation site. He said “Not today. Not this time.” and went on with his life. 

And he told no one of this, because he’s Marc fucking Spector and he has a reputation. 

So I leave you with this. The best image of Marc Spector I’ve ever seen. The true meaning and mood of Moon Knight I’ve ever seen. 

This pretty much just sums up his life: 

(And somewhere, Khonshu looked at this mess and said “That’s the one. That’s the one for me. My son!”)

[karoiseka]

Pawn

Shadowbringers spoilers, 5.0!

((Another with an instant idea, writing coming in spurts.  Things I think are slowly coming back, and phrases slowly becoming a bit less stilted.  I hope people are enjoying these... I know I’m enjoying digging into a few that I’ve been wanting to for a while!))

Boots clicked against the stone floor of the Musica Universalis as Karoiseka strode towards her Pendants room.  She could feel his eyes upon her, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction–or terror (she’s honestly not sure which it would be at this time)--of acknowledging his presence.  She had been on the First for a little over a Moon now, Alphinaud and Alisae safely at her side once more.  They had returned from Holminster Switch a few days ago, and Karo reveled in the Crystarium’s reactions to the night sky.  Not that you could see said night’s sky through the absolute downpour that was happening currently.  Luckily, Karo wasn’t getting dripped on due to the soaring high crystal blue ceilings that covered the markets–and most of the city in general.  There were plenty of actual open areas, but the majority of the city had stayed protected from the Everlasting Light’s rays, as well as inclimate weather, since its creation.

The sound of the rain hitting the crystal above created less noise than she would have thought–perhaps magically imbued to help with that aspect.  In any case, the area was dry and brightly lit by lamps that, looking at them, were quite the hopeful addition to the area by the Exarch when building the city.  That gamble had paid off–as had his eventual pull of Karo and the Scions through the Rift, though that was the reason for his current lurking.

Karo was still very angry at him.  Maybe a tad less after seeing the night’s sky returned to the area, and having the twins within reach once more, but nonetheless, angry.   She had wrapped herself in the emotion, whenever he was near, not wanting to let his friendly demeanor wear away at the fact that he had pulled her away from her own world’s troubles to be his pawn in this grand scheme to save his.  Yes, according to him the Source would be saved through their actions on the First, but none of it diminished the turmoil Karo had gone through back home the past few moons watching the Scions drop around her–not knowing where their souls had flown.

The noise coming from the Wandering Stairs had her giving the bar area a wide berth as she had the past few days–the celebration hadn’t stopped.  Instead her footfalls hit the softer grass and wood of one of the many “indoor” nature areas, carefully cultivated to bring a safe area for people to enjoy.  The watchful eyes seemed to fade as she got closer to the Pendants, and her stance relaxed ever so slightly.  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to like Exarch–in contrast, every part of her being was telling her to trust him–it was that the dark despair that had filled her for so long would not be so easily forgotten.

A quick wave to the suite manager, and up the two flights of stairs to her room, the rest of her tension melted from her body as she placed her bow on its rack, and sat heavily on her bed.

“What has you all out of sorts?”  Karo peered through her fingers to find Ardbert standing there peering down at her.  Sighing, the Bard looked up and then plopped backwards onto the bed.

“I’m having a hard time letting go of my anger at the Exarch for pulling all the Scions here,”  he shifted to be able to watch her easier as she continued on in a rush of words.  “I understand why he did it, I don’t blame him for that, but for the turmoil and pain he brought me personally, it’s been difficult.”  She bolted back upright causing Ardbert to jump back a bit.

“Do you think I’m wrong to not forgive him right away?”  She was up and pacing in a quick line.  “Well, forgive might be the wrong word, but to not be angry at him still?  Everyone seems to have settled here without much effort or pain, and he took care of them as much as they’d allow when they arrived.”  Sitting then falling back on the bed once more, she sighed again staring at the high ceiling.

“I suppose it’s all rhetorical, I can’t go hating him forever,”  smiling she rolled over to look at the spectral Warrior who was looking down at her equally amused.  It had been nice to have someone to come back to, to chat with, who understood.  Their conversation continued into the night as Karo let stress fade–and let Ardbert tell her more of his world.