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straight-outta-kaer-morhen · 4 years ago

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Scars <Eskel Soulmate AU>

Request from AO3: "Could you so an Eskel/reader with a soulmate AU? Maybe where soulmates have the same scars. Pretty please?"

Sorry it took so long. This fic has been sitting finished for several months, but I couldn't decide if I liked it enough to post. I've never done a soulmate AU, so this was a fun challenge! Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :D

As always, requests are open

Her claws wracked the side of his face. He'd been trying to avoid this meeting, but fate seemed to always have it's way. He was a fool for invoking the law of surprise all those years ago, and an even bigger fool for running from fate.

Looking up at the young girl, he had nothing in his heart but hate. The way she glowered at him he had no doubts she returned his sentiments.

• •• • A cry escaped her as flesh tore. Her hands shot out to grab her cheek. Blood ran freely down her jaw covering her neck. Horrified at the sight of crimson she helplessly tried to staunch the blood flow. The mage in front of her had his back pressed against the wall. Nothing but horror filled his eyes. This was not how the negotiations with Kaedwen were supposed to go. By the look on his face he hadn't attacked her, or cursed her. He fled the room as the pain seared across her cheek.

At some point she recalled being taken to a nurse for treatment, who was only able to bandage the wound, and send the sorceress on her way.

None of the healers could speed up the process of healing. The wound seemed to be healing on its own time. When it finally did heal, she was left with several jagged scars that even ran down her lips. When she looked in the mirror she was horrified by what she saw.

She seeked out Yennefer of Vengerberg’s powers. If anyone could heal the scars it was her. Very few were close to equal with Yennefer’s abilities.

"I cannot fix this." Yennefer declared, her eyes filling with pity. "This is the mark of a soulmate...and nothing can change fate."

"You were so beautiful." Kiera Metz's voice came softly. Y/N could not fathom the pity filled look she received. Her reflection showed several claw mark's adorned her face. They were raised and red.

Beauty wasn't everything she tried to tell herself, but she knew finding a lover would be impossible. Even her so-called soulmate would want nothing to do with her.

Yennefer gripped her shoulder, "beauty isn't everything."

• •• • "What happened to her?" Geralt inquired, his cat eyes falling on the familiar scars that adorned her face.

"It's a sad story." Triss sighed. "She used to have a beautiful face." Triss began, "the kind of face that makes king's launch wars over."

"Prettier than Yen?"

Triss nodded, "she had a softness, a warmth that Yennefer lacked. It drove men absolutely mad." She mused. "One day during negotiations, her face just tore open. It was the damndest thing."

"When?" Geralt inquired, observing the (h/c).

Triss tapped her chin recounting the years, "it had to have been about 20 years ago...give or take a few years."

"Hmmm." Geralt said, catching the woman's (e/c) eyes. She offered him a soft smile from across the room. He gave her a nod, his eyes tracing the scars that lined her lip. They were uncanny to Eskel's.

"No mage or sorceress could heal her." Triss added. "Apparently soulmate scars work differently, it's a power we know little of."

"Soulmate scars? I thought that was an old wives tale." Geralt asked, startled.

"So did I, but the circumstances of how she acquired them...well there is no other explanation for it." She said with a shrug as she took a sip of wine. "I spoke with the mage that witnessed it. His account was hard to discredit."

"The amount of scars a Witcher acquires, well it's hard to put much stock in the idea." Geralt said, taking another drink of his ale.

Triss waved the woman over, "whatever man acquired those, it must have been hell for him from what Y/N described."

"Y/N, this is Geralt." Triss introduced, "he's taken an interest in your scars." She said leaving the two to get acquainted

Her hand immediately shot up to her face covering the scars. "Forgive me for prying," Geralt began, "I have a friend who has similar scars."

Y/N's eyebrows raised, "is he a Witcher too?"

Geralt nodded, "sounds like he got those scars around the time you did."

"That would explain the pain…" Y/N mumbled, sitting at the table. "I'm very sorry for your friend, I know how he feels." She began a small frown pulling at her face. "No matter how kind you are, people tend to avoid things they can't explain."

"Well, I have reason to believe he may be the answer to those scars."

She shook her head, "even so he wouldn't want to see me." (E/c) eyes flickered up at his feline gaze. "I know exactly how I look Geralt. Kings stopped requesting my presence as soon as they saw my face, the lodge will not send me out diplomatically in case another scar decides to show up." Her jaw was set, "I'm quite positive your Witcher friend would not care to see me."

Geralt nodded, "if you change your mind let me know."

• •• •

Winters were perfect for catching up with his brother in arms. Geralt had debated keeping the scarred woman's existence a secret, but ultimately he decided that it was Eskel who should decide.

He broke the news a few weeks into their stay. He'd made sure Vesemir was in the room. If anyone would have more knowledge on the subjects of soulmates it would be the old Witcher.

"I met a sorceress this past fall." Geralt began, soliciting a scoff from Vesemir.

"Did you bed her too?" The grey haired man asked. Soliciting a soft smile from Eskel as he turned the page of his book.

"No, but she had some interesting scars." Geralt commented.

Eskel's eyes shot up, his hand automatically scratching at the scars that lined his lips. "A sorceress who chose not to have them healed? That's unheard of. They tend to be a vain bunch." Vesemir said thoughtfully.

"They tried, but scars involving soulmates is another thing." Geralt peaked up at Eskel to gage his reaction. The Witcher had stiffened, listening intently.

"Soulmates," Vesemir mused. "That is a very rare phenomenon. I can't say I've ever heard of two soulmates actually finding each other."

"Hmm, I saw the scars with my own eyes. Three claw marks on the side of the jaw." Eskel dropped his book.

"Appeared out of nowhere about twenty years ago." Geralt added. "If I hadn't been mistaken by the pair of tits I would have thought it was Eskel."

Eskel's cleared his throat, "it's a coincidence."

"Maybe, but I don't think so."

"Perhaps it's fate forcing you to make things right?" Vesemir in his infinite wisdom had a point. Much to Eskel's dismay.

"If it's fate we'll run into each other." Eskel dismissed.

"Eskel, you can't outrun fate." Vesemir began, "look what happened to you last time."

Geralt sighed, "I didn't tell you this to feel trapped by fate. I thought you had a right to know, I also think you have a right to tell destiny to fuck off if you want."

Eskel seemed to relax a bit, "was she attractive?"

Geralt nodded, "scars and all. Triss says she was once prettier than Yen." He hesitated, "there is something else you should know…"

Eskel leaned forward curiosity getting the better of him.

"She doesn't think you'd wish to see her."

A frown pulled at the dark haired Witcher's lips. He knew all too well what it was like to carry those scars.

Eskel had once been considered a handsome man. He'd never had a hard time finding a lover, and people used to be friendlier. After he acquired the scars, brothels were the only place he could find pleasure, the contracts he took the people looked on him as if he were a feral beast.

"Go talk to her." Lambert's voice echoed through the hall.

"What have I told you about eavesdropping?" Vesemir asked, turning to the youngest Witcher.

"Ah, can it old man." Lambert said, waving him off. "You're always saying you want a lover. If she really is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down."

That was just like Lambert, to throw his opinion out there regardless if it was welcome or not. "I thought you opposed Geralt bringing visitors to Kaer Morhen. You really want me to bring someone too?"

"If it’ll get you laid, I’m willing to take one for the team."

Vesemir rubbed his temples, no one could get on his nerves like the younger Witcher. Bold and brash, Lambert had a tendency to speak without thinking things through. It seemed the mutations could not quell the passion for living that burned inside.

“You have time. Destiny can wait.” Geralt said downing the rest of his ale. “Think on it.” He said, patting Eskel’s shoulder before heading upstairs for the evening.

Vesemir and Lambert were quick to follow, leaving Eskel alone with his thoughts. He turned to the many shelves that lined the wall. The bookshelves had been moved years ago when the library had decayed enough that Vesemir didn't trust it to house his precious tomes. If anyone were to have a book on the subject of soulmates, it would be the old man.

The book was thin and covered in years of dust. Eskel brushed the cover off. The letters had worn off, but the faint engraving of the title could be seen, Love Potions, Relationships, and Soul Mates. Eskel flipped to the title page, how to tell if they're the one, potions to make them fall in love, and tips turning that crush into love.

A small chuckle escaped Eskel's lips. He wondered when the old Witcher had picked this up, and who he was trying to woo. The table of contents indicated the chapter on soulmates started on page 69.

"Soulmates were fated by the gods. The oldest known magic, but very little have studied it. Soulmates could be confirmed by matching scars. It has been speculated that when one soul receives the mark their kindred soul receives it as well.

It is unknown why the other soul experiences the same wound, and pain. Some scholars assume it is to bound the two souls in a mutual understanding.

Soulmate bonds used to be very common, but the emergence of alchemy, and sorcery has made the magic almost extinct.

Soulmate bonds typically occur during strange phenomenons such as blood moons, eclipses, solstices, etc.

There have been instances where soulmates have argued that they were fated to meet.”

Eskel flipped the page, but the next chapter was regarding a love potion. He took care placing the book back on the shelf.

He let his mind wander as he trudged up the stairs to his room. Having someone to hold on nights like this wouldn't be unwelcome.

The room was silent, the fire had turned to embers. He threw another log on coaxing it back to life with Igni. The only thing in the room that indicated someone lived in it were stacks of books, and his weapons laid on a long, narrow table.

He toed off his boots and sat on the edge of the low bed. He wanted to laugh at Geralt for suggesting such an idea. He wanted to tell Vesemir that destiny could go to hell. He wanted Lambert to realize that no one would ever want him, but most of all he wanted it to be true.

Of course he wanted someone to love him, but how the hell could he accept a love like that? If he couldn't love the scars on his face how could he expect someone else to? The questions raised in his mind, but Lambert's voice rang in the back of his mind if she is your soulmate, even she can't turn you down. Perhaps that was the ember that sparked hope in his heart.

• •• •

The lodge trusted her with an alchemy shop. It seemed even she couldn't fuck that up. The once brilliant negotiator was now grinding, mixing and drying herbs. The shop bell jingled indicating a customer. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Take your time."

She dried her hands on her apron, as she turned to face the deep voice. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. The scars that lined his lips were identical to hers.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault." He began as her hand shot up to cover the scars.

"I told Geralt you wouldn't want to see me." She said turning away from the dark haired Witcher.

He was quick to reach out to her, "no you're beautiful...no beautiful isn't the right word..it's not enough to describe you." Eskel breathed taking in her soft (e/c) eyes. "A choice I made hurt you." Eskel's voice was thick with shame, "and you've had to live with that."

She took him in, and her fingers traced the scars that lined his face. "Perhaps it's not all bad."

Eskel's heart fluttered at the prospect. She had yet to turn him away, and he dared to let his heart hope.

"These scars led me to you."

#eskel the witcher #eskel #eskel oneshot #eskel the witcher x reader #eskel x reader #eskel x y/n #eskel the witcher x y/n #eskel the witcher oneshot #the witcher oneshot #the witcher 3

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the-nightingale · 4 years ago

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It was the first snow day of the year of the Ox. Well, at least it was the first day where the snow settled and people came out to play, and it was wonderful. There was just this stillness. A sweet, calm, stillness. I went for a walk, and I walked and walked and walked and walked. I realised that I walk further away from people to figure out how I’m feeling. Or maybe I just like walking away from people. When faced with two paths ahead of me, I choose the one of stillness, of silence. I always look longingly towards the lights, the laughter and the loud… but I never go that way. I watch them, and I turn back. I keep walking and then I turn back again, to see how far I’ve gone, and notice I can still hear them on the breeze, their voices and their togetherness. I take it all in, I breathe and then I walk further away.

I think I will always choose the wilderness, the path into the forest, the untrampled snow. I think I’m starting to realise what that really means, about who I am, and what it means for me. I don’t seek out other people to help me. I walk into the wilderness and I look within. I think. I sing. I run and I play. That helps me with how I feel, the loneliness of the world, and the hardships. Some people may choose to go to therapists, and that’s wonderful, but for myself, I walk into the forest, I find the most bleak, desolate lonely place and I speak to the silence, I let the stillness listen to me and my troubles, and I think of spirits, I think of my late Father, and I tell them my stories, and I believe that they listen, and they hear me, and they love me, and they believe in me and I tell all of my sorrows and all the burdens of my heart to the wind and it carries them away and I pad back out of the forest, feeling light, new.

Today I told the wind, and the spirits, and my ancestors, and you. I told them how sad I was, but also happy. I feel old, I said, I feel old because I have lived enough to tell stories that would last a thousand years. I feel old because I have known love, and I sought it out, in all my youthful innocence I hunted down love, and I pulled it in close and I looked at it, I looked into its eyes, and I’ve lost it. I’ve had it, and I’ve lost it.

I’ve known loss. I’ve known grief. I wasn’t angry with Death for taking you. I think, in the end, its what you wanted. I was angry at the forgetting, I hated the forgetting.

Your mind was an encyclopedia. The library of Alexandria. I watched as it was looted, robbed, ruined, and it only took a few years, and I would look at you and I would see you, so afraid, just afraid of forgetting, and tired of living, but scared of dying.

I was so unhappy, I was so down, and low, and miserable for so many years. I watched as my own house burned down. I watched as all the memories from my childhood were stolen from me. Everything good, everything sweet, everything innocent, it was taken.

I may not have been a mother yet, but my God did I treat you like my own child. I bathed you, and fed you, and changed you. I watched you, I saw you sit with your own fear, and shame and terror and I calmed you, I tried to dig you up from the pit... But there was nothing I could do.

Nothing I could do but love you, and love you well. I could have loved you better, I could have been better, I know that. I could have been more patient, I could have been more kind. I expended every ounce of my own happiness to try to give some to you, that I was left empty, so empty all I could do was be angry, frustrated, and cranky.

I snapped at you all the time.

But I’m learning that life is just people trying to do their best, with what they have, right then and there. And that’s okay.

I could’ve done better, I thought I had more time. I have a lot of things I wish I’d done better, but I don’t have the chance to change things.

But I can give you this.

With all my love, and all my failures, the highs and the lows, everything that I felt, my sorrow and my joy, I can tell them as stories. And maybe if I tell the stories, maybe if people hear how much we cared for each other, how much we loved each other, how we used to laugh together, and eat together, and how it’s all gone, then maybe you can live on.

And so, with all my love, and all the magic within me, all the alchemy, if I can’t bring you back from the dead, then I can tell our stories, so I can remember. And other people can remember, and we can live on together, and if people retell our stories, and they remember who you were, then you’ll be immortal.

And that would bring me comfort, to know that somewhere out there, someone remembers.

Remembers that we were a family. They could remember our jokes, and your limericks. I could tell them about where we used to eat, and how I was eating the best food in the world before I could chew, because of you.

I could tell them about the honey hotel, and maybe if I talk about their ribs, and that day I got them all over my face like a little monster, but you laughed and loved me all the more for my lack of ladylike manners, maybe if I talk about those ribs, even though the honey hotel is long gone too, the people who worked there will remember us, they’ll remember that kid who ran around their halls with my terrapin, that we released into the gardens at Lumpini Park. I can’t have you back, but maybe if I tell the stories about the ribs, maybe one day the nice ladies from the Honey Hotel could talk to me, and teach me how to make them, and I’d tell them how much they meant to me, even though I never asked their names. That hotel was my home, and I loved them all, all the women in the Honey Cafe. I miss them, and I was heartbroken the day I learned that the hotel was closed forever, because I would never sit there again, or eat there again, and maybe never see them again.

Maybe if I tell enough stories about George Brian Leslie then someone will appear, who remembers him too, and they can tell me the stories, because George always had the best stories. He always had the jokes, the filthy horrible hilarious jokes that made everyone laugh, appropriate or not. Maybe people remember the stories, and they can tell them to me, and we can preserve his soul, that wild brave soul that was George, who walked his own path, who paved the way for others, like me, and my sisters, my Mother…

I want people to remember George Leslie and laugh.

I want them to remember how silly he was, how down right fucking hilarious and awful and innappropriate he was, and how smart, how simply fucking brilliant.

He wasn’t a good man, but he wasn’t a bad man either. He did his best, like we all do. The more I learn about people the more I realise we’re all just doing our best. I used to wish I could be just like him, I wanted to be good in the ways that he was, and bad in the same ones too. It took me a long time to shed this mentality. I realised that I was kinder, more compassionate, more empathetic. I had to unlearn some things, like not giving money to charity. It was hard, because Dad was so against it, but I had to realise, he wasn’t always right. And as for me? I can be better than him. Once I realise that he is flawed, and that we’re all flawed, and that we all think we’re right, but we might be wrong, then we realise our heroes are not so great after all, we realise our heroes are like us, they are us.

He is me. I don’t have to idolise him forever.

And as I am my own person and I have to live my own life, who am I?

I’m not George. I may have some similarities to George in my sense of humour and Leslie chin, but actually I am Mary.

And after having seen his life, heard all the stories about it, what will I do with mine? How could I ever compare to his greatness?

Well maybe I don’t have to be great. Maybe I don’t have to be smart. Maybe I can just be a girl, just a little girl, a girl who has loved and lost and looked at Death in the eyes, and watched my Father carried through the Gate, into the otherworld, I’m just a girl who, after experiencing the lowdown, dark, horrible, miserable, gutteral pain of loss, stands up and is reborn, I choose to go on, to smile, to be happy. I am full of sorrow and of joy at all times and I have lived life. I may not have much to show for it, I may not have fancy words or certificates to show for all the hard work and time I’ve put into the last few years, but my God have I given every part of myself to the things that mattered to me.

To love.

To family.

To life.

To my Father.

And I’m realising that maybe I don’t need to be a poet, or tell things in a beautiful way, but I just need to tell them. I think it helps me with my grief, and my loss, and my sorrow. I need to tell stories so I remember. I need to tell stories so I never forget. I need the stories, I need them because I need my children to know you.

And maybe I could be a writer, maybe I could be a storyteller.

I think I’ve seen enough of life, I think I’ve seen enough of death, and love and hardship, and loss.

I don’t think it matters if you’re lost though, or if you lose, as long as you loved.

And I loved you.

I loved you so much.

And why shouldn’t I tell our stories?

I don’t think I want to be a chef, or write a cookbook. I think, actually, I don’t really mind about recipes and what goes in them and how long it takes, but I do want to tell the stories about food, about my memories and my land and my heart and all the things I remember.

I feel light and I feel free.

I am blessed because you made everything easy for me.

So I guess I’ll just be a girl, a normal girl, one who tells stories.

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curechocolattymilk · 4 years ago

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Skyrim OC Questionnaire

Saw @jessaryss ‘s questionnaire in the tes tag & decided to give it a whirl w my current Dovahkiin!

BASICS

Name: Jeer-Tei Perdes

Race: Argonian

Age: 26-28??

Pronouns: He/They

Eyes: Turquoise-ish

Hair: Red feathers

Skin: black/super dark green?? idk i was playing around w a race menu mod w this lad

Height: 5′7″ - 5′8″ (A bit on the short side for an Argonian)

Weight: 153 LBs

General Physique: Probably average? With a bit of beef since they swing around battleaxes/wear heavy armor

Tattoos, WarPaints & Scars? I’m just plopping down a screenshot bcus i suck at explaining em. Can’t see his scars on this one but they have three long ones over their left(?) eye

Yes I went edgy color scheme with him. No, I have no shame

ABOUT

Dragonborn: YES / NO

Werewolf/Bear or Vampire?: Werewolf time (yet to find a good werecroc mod tho :c)

Occupation: Adventurer, Thief, Listener, Arch-Mage, Harbinger, Mercenary, soon to be Legion solider, all-around bastard

Guild Association(s): TG, DBH, Companions, College of Winterhold & I believe that is it bcus i went back a couple saves in hopes to avoid a CW bug & lost a bit of progress in return oof

Favoured Weapon Class / Type: Two-Handed, Battleaxe

Favoured School of Magic / Type: DESTRUCTION. Tei loves himself some Fire n Lightning. The fire shout is his most used lol

Heavy Armor? Light Armor? Robes?: Heavy Armor

Place of Birth: Unsure still but I’m thinking of having them not have a Hist-connection/not hatching in Black Marsh? Seems like an interesting route but who knows

Place Where They Were Raised: Hammerfell till their teens (Tei was adopted), then they wandered around for a bit w a group b4 landing in Skyrim

Current Location: Since last save? Ivarstead I think

Education / Place of Study: He’s well-read/educated! Mostly learned the smithing trade under his family in Hammerfell, but snuck into a few academic courses during their travels in Cyrodil

Any Teachers / Inspirations? Tei has an elder brother who helped teach him the ropes of adventuring/survival. He helped kickstart the Argonian’s adventure drive.

PERSONAL

Patron Deity (if any): Mora & Hircine I’d say? He doesn’t really worship any of the Nine, though he acknowledges all of them.

Political Alliance (if any): They could care less for the warring factions, but the civil war is starting to inconvenience him, so for the sake of choosing a side & getting it over with, they joined the Empire. (The recruiters were closest & Tei really didn’t want to travel aaalll the way to Windhelm...never really liked the place anyway) Don’t expect him to be extremely loyal/treat them or the Dominion w any respect though lol

Strongest Skills: If going off ones that reached 100: Two-handed, Heavy-Armor, Destruction, Smithing, Speech, Archery

Strengths: Can take a hit physically; Pretty stealthy despite their armor type; Pretty much fearless, will take you head on

Weaknesses: Has piss-poor sense of direction when it comes to Dwemer/Nordic ruins; Pretty much fearless, not much of a danger sense so they can get pretty fucked up; Can’t tank spells that well, despite being Arch-Mage; Doesn’t have an issue following their Draconic or Werebeast nature/Can’t control nightly transformations

Spouses? Flings? Lovers?: Rumarin is their hubby. Though Tei & Ru are discussing among themselves about opening their relationship & adding Kaidan to it, if the warrior comfortable with the idea.

Thaneship (and of where?): Yes; Solitude, Whiterun, Dawnstar, & Falkreath. They’re worming their way into every hold they can though

Most Difficult Quest They’ve Been On? The whole Dragonborn quest was definitely a challenge he completed out of spite for Miraak. However, the Blood of Kings (3DNPC-Slight spoiler warning for the end of this quest? Maybe?) quest fucked w them a bit more mentally. Tei likes to act big & tough but having to acknowledge he’s the only one who went through/remembers all that did mess with them a bit. It’s hard to explain those dreams/nightmares.

Jail Time? So far? Just Cidna Mine because of the Forsworn Quest. Tei is pretty good at not getting caught/using his connections to get away with things.

Largest Bounty Held? I want to say around 5000+? Again, it was Markarth, they did not go down w/o a fight after that false accusation.

How Much Gold Are They Typically Carrying? Too much idk what to spend it on

How Do They Get Gold? Stealing, well-paying jobs, selling treasures they looted from tombs or found in dungeons, that sorta deal

Are Werebeings and Vampires Vile Creatures or Simply Misunderstood?: Simply misunderstood! Until you attack him then it’s game over for you. bud.

Do They Actively Hunt Dragons?: Not really, in a turn of events regarding this character. Part of it is because I just can’t find any spawning vanilla-wise post-Alduin, but for an in character explanation, Tei does feel a strong kinship with dragons. They won’t hunt them/kill them unless it’s a well-paying job/they challenge him first. Which...the latter happens often in the form of Assaults (Deadly Dragons is one fun mod). Hell, Tei refused to kill Paarthurnax. He respects the Dovah, even if he disagrees w the passive way of thinking, & goes to them often to meditate or talk. Not that anyone needs to know that.

Goals In Life? Honestly? Probably boost themselves up the ranks/collect more powerful artifacts for his hoard. If there’s a powerful figure he can challenge he will do it Figuring out how to turn into a dragon would be cool too, i guess

Deepest Regret?: Not hanging out with their kids (Ram-ku & Chases-Starlight) as much. They visit when they can but the urge to travel/explore can keep them away from home for a bit. So everytime they head back to Proudspire/Lakeview they have a ton of treats/toys/daggers to give the two.

Greatest Hope?: Not a shared fact with anyone, but deep down Tei does wish to retire comfortably, he jokes with Inigo that such an idea sounds boring but honestly? They wouldn’t mind it.

Most Embarrassing Moment: Rumarin caught him playing with the dog’s rope toys while in Werewolf form once. The High-Elf refuses to let Tei live it down

Flaws: They don’t really pick up on how rude they can be at times, or maybe they do & just don’t care.; Lack of personal danger-sense in battle/thrill of the kill can often lead to Tei getting some serious injuries if he’s not careful, his continued mastering of Restoration is from licking his own wounds. Sorta ironic considering he fusses over close teammates not being careful after opening up some more.

Fears: After the whole Blood of Kings debacle, Tei developed a deep fear of losing the reality they’re in/losing their loved ones. Alduin may have been defeated but the idea that any & all progress or events he went through can just be taken away regardless sticks with him. It may or may not drive his need to take out anything they deem as a big threat/challenge.

What Makes Them Happy?: Playing with their kids is a big one, Tei always makes times for games. Other than that it’s finding new discoveries/techniques about destruction magic or soul gems, reading a good book (or being read to, if he feels like asking Rumarin), being with his family in general, or going out for a hunt in their werebeast form.

Hobbies: Playing the lute, building his hoard some dragon behaviors just stick regardless of the body you’re in, smithing/creating little decorative daggers, treasure diving

Favorite Locations: Throat of the World/Paarthurnax’s Library (Mod), Lake Ilinalta, Apocrypha

Favorite Holds: Falkreath & Solitude

Eating Habits?: They’re not picky, but tend to prefer raw meat. It’s not an uncommon sight to see Tei just up n swallow a salmon whole while he’s swimming to catch the group some dinner.

Can They Cook?: they leave it to Rumarin if at home/the elf is traveling with them, but they can do it decently enough.

Favorite Food: Tei would kill for Ru’s seared-slaughterfish dish

Favorite Drink: Shein/Velvet LeChance

First Thing They Do At A Tavern?: Ask around for bounties/buy some food for the road

Sleeping Habits?: Due to the beastblood, Tei is very restless when they sleep, often tossing & turning. Ru holding them helps a bit, but on days where he travels, Tei just stays awake until he passes out in an inn/at camp from exhaustion seeing as they don’t toss around as much then.

Cities or the wilds?: The wilds

Pet Peeves?: Being stopped for bounties of like...5 gold. Like dude fuck off or he’s going to make that bounty go higher.; Followers bunching up/not letting them pass, Tei has places to be guys; Also really hates being grabbed/touched unless its close friends/family

Describe Their Bedroom or Home: Their bedroom is rather neat & tidy, same as any personal forge or storage room. Alchemy/Enchanting areas, or any place of study you should watch your step. Especially in the Arch-mages quarters, that place is a total mess.

How Would A Stranger Describe This Person?: A short-tempered, apathetic asshole through & through most likely.

Someone Close To Them? A snarky arse who actually is a bit of a softy with some rough edges. Tei’s no goody-two-shoes, & tends to tease, but he’s not cruel either, y’know?

How Do They Deal With Anger?: He tries to avoid lashing out at others unless they caused it. Usually cools off from big episodes by working at the forge, doing a big bounty or two, or using their Thu’um somewhere till their throat hurts.

How Do They Deal With Failure?: Tei gets broody, frustrated & fidgets with his claws/tail/feathers a lot. Over the years of their adventuring they understand failure is a fact of life, but that doesn’t mean they can’t get upset about it. Don’t take it to heart if they snap at you during this time, they don’t really mean it & just are mad at themselves

How Do They Deal With Loss of a friend or someone close?: Not horribly bad but also not in the best way, they immediately put walls up & avoid conversation for a good while, maybe even leave for a few days. While slowly working with this with the help of Ru & Inigo, Tei doesn’t like being seen in a vulnerable & would most likely brush the event off as “shit happens.” However, it’ll eventually get too much. A good example would be when they lost most of the Brotherhood due to Astrid’s betrayal; Tei would brush it off constantly if it was brought up, pushing it down. One day though, it hit him full force while prepping for a contract, he’s grateful it was just Rumarin there when it happened.

Go Into The Bandit Filled Cave To Retrieve The Lost Amulet For Some Simpleton, or Tell Them Nah Bye?: Depends if they pay well or if Tei can get away w keeping the item, but it’s mostly “Lol that sucks bro”

Opinions on Daedra?: He only respects/likes two (Hircine & Mora), but will shimmy up to the other princes for their artifacts

Companions / Followers

First Follower: Rumarin! Found the dude by accident while running around & immediately fell for the snarky fucker.

Have They Stuck Around?: I mean, the two did get hitched. Rumarin mostly stays at home with their kids now-a-days, as Tei is chasing after more & more dangerous “prey”

Something The Look For In A Follower (or do they hire anyone without question?): Hold their own & does what their told, mostly. The former is the proving factor for him (except in the case of Lucien...but they’re paying to tag along so I guess they can stay)

Followers Over The Years (or whatever amount of time): Rumarin, Zora Fairchild, Gor, Anum-La, Skjarn (but only once), Inigo, Kaidan, Lucien, & Hoth.

Fourth Wall

Any Must Have Mods To Play This Character?: Anything to help boost Argonian experience (Amazing Argonian Traits/Feats, Horns are Forever, Digitigrade Khajiit-Argonian Raptor, Bigger Argonian Tails....We need more Argonian mods), Ordinator, Apocalypse, Wildcat, Deadly Dragons, Real Bosses USSEP, Ultimate Combat SE, TK Dodge, Shout Overhaul. And while you don’t need it to play Jeer-Tei, the Racial Body Morphs SE is fun to help diversify everyone’s height! Until you realize you’re short as hell to most of your party.

Random Screenshot / Drawing: Here’s Kaidan & Rumarin stealing the bed in my bugged saves, gotta redo Kai’s quests again for this tho. F

Level?: 91 I think? First character where I grinded up via Alchemy & Enchantments for perk points for a good while. (Also started out as a light armor build but I quickly decided, “lets become a sneaky tank build!” mid-gameplay) I used to have the People of Skyrim mod on as well, which spawned waaay too many dragons (im talkin about none of them landing even after their hp hit zero bcus the ai got bugged w the amount spawning) & bandit mobs, so that helped too lol. Eventually disabled it though bcus my old laptop was struggling.

Serious RP or Thomas The Tank Engine Dragons, Fart Shouts, and Kawaii Cat Girl Mods?: Serious RP, though I may add some sillies later

#skyrim #long post #im getting back into this game so prepare for me occasionally remembering i have a tumblr account to talk about my little bastard demigod #tes #argonian #ldb #ldb oc #kaidan 2 #rumarin #ramblings #tei's not too well rounded imo but he's also my 'fuck around and play god'/'how many quest adventure mods can i power through' character so

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wheremytwinwatches · 4 years ago

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 7

So Sokka, where’s this episode taking place again?

Excellent! Let’s get started then!

Narrator recaps the encounter with Doc Marcoh, who revealed the existence of incomplete Philosopher’s Stones (which is a great writing move, now the Brothers can be going around hunting down Imperfect Stones rather than repeated episodes of “Damnit, another fake.”), and gave the location of his research. Now fixed up, Ed and Al are off to the First Branch of the National Central Library. Whoa, was expecting a title card and got Screaming Edward instead. What’s wrong? Ah. Seems that the library’s a bit… destroyed. When did this happen? Shot of Eastern Command, Lust is commenting that “burning the entire place down was easier.” Damnit, seems they got the location out of Marcoh and removed the lead while our characters were held up at the Rockbell’s. Now Lust and Gluttony are in East City, Lust checking in on Scar. Seems Gluttony has a very keen nose, he can smell the Ishvalan. Lust confirms that Gluttony can get his snack. Still confused about the animosity between the Goths and Scar. Whatever their plans, seems it would be easier for the Goths if there were fewer State Alchemists to get in their way. Or is it more that he’s a disruptive force, a distraction for their own plans? After all, if they do need Ed for some sort of sacrifice, Scar killing him would definitely mess things up. Episode 07: “Hidden Truths” Speaking of the Ishvalan, Scar’s still in the sewers, when he notices a bunch of rats fleeing past him. Looking back, there’s a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness. Yup, that’s Gluttony with his creepy grin. Goth vs Vigilante fight? Wow, Gluttony’s pretty fast for a hefty guy. Scar prepares his Face Grab, but it’s not an instant kill as Gluttony grabs him. Scar ends that by straight-up slicing off the Goth’s arm. Wait, no blood? Suddenly Lust comes racing up, Scar barely has a moment to be surprised before an explosion sends our view back to the surface, big cloud of smoke pouring out over a river. Seems we’ll have to wait on that fight, we’re back to Riza reporting that Scar hasn’t been seen since his attack on the Elrics. Havoc suggests that he’s not in East City anymore, but Roy hopes that isn’t the case. If it’s gotten to be too much for Central, and he closes it quickly? Then he’ll “be golden.” Huh, didn’t think you were that much of a careerist, especially after you objected to Bradley giving you the credit in the first episode. Wow, Roy doesn’t dream small, does he. Aiming right for the office of Fuhrer. Further talk’s derailed by [Soldier 1] rushing in to report an explosion on the Marl River. Nearby Military Police speculate on what caused all the rubble, as the State Alchemists examine the bloody remains of Scar’s jacket. No body though, so I’m gonna assume he’s still alive. No way he’d be axed off this soon. And may I say how happy I am that it’s “by the book” for the State Alchemists to find hard proof someone’s dead before writing them off? No “Never Found The Body” for these guys! Hey! In the crowd, it’s the Goths! Pretty brazen, sticking around with the bystanders. Lust complains that Scar got away, while Gluttony’s more concerned he didn’t get his snack. Regardless, they assume that Scar will be out of the picture for now. Lust will head back to Central to report to Father. Meanwhile, the Elrics and Armstrong are looking through the destroyed library, when they’re approached by a Second Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh. Hey, it’s two more people from the intro? Also, Ross and Brosh? Calling it now, they’re either siblings or LI’s. Ross is here to pass on an order: Armstrong is to report back to Command Center, they’ll take over supervision of the Elrics. Nooo, don’t take away The Mighty Armstrong! Ed just complains that he keeps getting saddled with bodyguards. Driving away, Ross comments that there was a woman who was well acquainted with the materials of the ex-library. Although she wasn’t working there anymore. Well, it’s more than you had a minute ago Ed, don’t diss it. Brosh seems nervous, which Al picks up on. Scared of the Giant Fanged Suit of Armor sitting across from you? Or… is it the person sitting next to you, hmmm? Nah, it’s the armor, which he asks about. The Elrics claim it’s a hobby. Really guys? That’s a lame excuse, go back to the “It’s for training” you used in the first episode. Awkwardness all around. They arrive at what looks like an apartment building, and… oh. Oh my. Look at them. Look at all those books! Did this woman make her own library or something? I want them! The Alchemists sidle through the bookshelves, Brosh wondering if there’s actually someone living in the place. Ross calls out for Miss Sheska, Al catches on to a muffled “Please help me” down an aisle to a bunch of collapsed books. Well, at least the lady saved her glasses. A moment of frantic digging later, they uncover a lady who profusely thanks them and apologizes for getting trapped under the books. Yeah, might wanna work on your shelving technique, miss. Confirming that this is the Miss Sheska they came to meet, Ed asks about her working at the library, and she flinches at that? But then she springs into a Glittering Gushing Moment ala Armstrong and Winry, about how beautiful the word “library” is and how she’s loved books her whole entire life, how working in a library was heaven! Buuuuut she kinda forgot about the “work” part, spent all her time reading and got fired. And now she needs another job to move her poor, elderly mother to a better hospital. But all she can do is read! Woe, sadness, despair! ...ok, which one of you guys stuck a gender-bent me into this show? Ed snaps Sheska out of her despair by asking about Tim Marcoh, she recalls the name from some handwritten notes stuck in a bookshelf. Nice memory! And my growing suspicion is confirmed when she just asks if they want to read them. Where do you think all these books came from, Ed? Or rather, Sheska’s got a photographic memory, she remembers the content of any book she’s ever read. So she can write the notes out for them! “Thank you bookworm” indeed! And now, a table full of notes! Lady, why are you apologizing for taking five days? I’m surprised that table’s holding up under those stacks of paper, and all that was written from memory? Alchemists, if you don’t hire this girl for your own paperwork you’re idiots. But here they are, Tim Marcoh’s notes! Or rather… recipes? Oh. Ooooooh. I get it! But our characters don’t, they just complain about coming all that way for a cook book. Come on guys, it’s chemistry! Well, maybe Ed and Al get it, because after confirming the notes are completely accurate he thanks her, gathers the notes to take back to the library, and writes out a check for Sheska from his grant funds. Which going by Ross and Sheska’s reactions (“Did he miss a decimal point somewhere?!”) is not insubstantial. Guess being a skilled State Alchemist pays well. At another building (guess by library they meant one other than the destroyed one) Brosh is asking how the cookbooks can possibly be related to Alchemy. Ed explains that due to the danger of Alchemy being misused, the research is always encrypted. Come on Brosh, aren’t you a State Alchemist too? Shouldn’t you know this? Ed and Al get cracking on the decryption, such as comparing a “green tea” recipe to the “Green Lion” of metallurgic alchemy. Other names get thrown around, like Flamel (I recognize that one!) and Lambspring. Brosh clearly is out of his league. But it seems the Elrics may be as well, collapsed on the table with glazed expressions. Al’s even faceplanted so hard his helmet horn’s gone straight through the papers into the table. The suggestion of asking Marcoh about it comes up (yyyeah, don’t think that’s gonna work out), but Ed refuses to admit defeat. Hey, Sheska! She’s stopped by to thank the Elrics for the money. Although they haven’t had any luck deciphering the notes, and she hasn’t found another job yet, she’s happy to have helped out. And Al gives her an inspiring pep talk, nice to see her smiling. Sudden Hughes bursting in to visit the Elrics, admonishes Ed for not saying “Hey” when he came back to Central. Ross and Brosh mutter in shock about how the Elrics chat with Colonel (hey, did he get a promotion?) Hughes like an old friend. Just how high up are these boys? No, seriously, how high up are they? Do they have an official rank, or what? Asking for clarification. Hughes takes a seat, complaining about their case load, and the library burning down as well. Seems all their case reports were… stored in the stacks… Miss Sheska! You’re hired! The Elrics get back to work, delving through notes (Suddenly noticed that Ed’s writing with his left hand. Hadn’t caught that before). Meanwhile, Brosh keeps up on guard duty (“I’m awake!”) and comments that they’ve been at it for ten days now. Man, Doc was pretty thorough in his coding, wasn’t he? But at least they’re dedicated- “To hell with it!” Aw, no! Don’t give up! Ross and Brosh enter to a wrecked room, books and papers scattered everywhere as the Elrics sit on the floor. Come on, you guys can’t give up now. Wait, you did crack it? You cracked the code? That’s awesome! But why the frustration, then? Why does Al sound like he’s crying? Jeez, now Ed’s going on about how it’s the devil’s research, that it should have been destroyed. What on earth was in those notes? “The main ingredient for a Philosopher’s Stone… is human life.” No. NO. You have GOT to be kidding me! Not again. Not again!

Oh, but it gets worse. Ed’s saying that to make a single Stone takes multiple human sacrifices. Wow. Just, wow. So there we go. Philosopher’s Stones are made with human sacrifice. “For what could equal the value of a human soul” indeed. Stones aren’t about amplifying the power of the Alchemist after all, they’re about drawing on the power of others. Just… using others’ life as a freaking battery! And the Military authorized research into this? They signed off on research into human sacrifice as a power source? First genocide, now this? What the Leto is wrong with these people?! *Sigh* Ok, ok. Calming down, calming down… Ed asks Ross and Brosh to not say anything. Later that night, the two Alchemists appear to meet Armstrong in a hotel, informing him that the Brothers are “holed up” in their room again, and they haven’t been eating either. Well, yeah? I mean, they just discovered that the one hope they had for restoring their bodies could only come at an inhumane cost to others. How do you think you would have reacted in their place? Well, at least Ross and Brosh seem to be keeping their promise to not reveal the secret. Unfortunately, Armstrong catches on and is not pleased with their suspicious behavior. To say the least. Sorry. Trying to be funny, but still reeling from that reveal. Inside a dark room, Al says that Ed really should get something to eat, but Ed just says no. Ed goes on to talk about how they try so hard to grasp the truth, but it always slips away. Or rather, in their search for answers they got the worst possible one. Now Ed’s saying that there’s something he’s wanted to tell Al for a while, but he’s always been too afraid to say it. “I-” *SMASH* “Elric Brothers, I know you’re in there!” Ed decides to ignore him, followed immediately by The Mighty Armstrong completely smashing his way in. Yup, Ross and Brosh couldn’t hold out against the Major, he knows what the notes said. And he’s now Crying Majestically about how the Philosopher’s Stone is built on such a terrible secret. “Imagine the military being behind something like that! Often the truth is more cruel than we bargained for!” But Ed seizes on one word out of that: “Truth.” Is he thinking about the Demon and the Door? No, he seems to be banking on Marcoh’s mention of “truth within the truth”. Ed’s convinced that there has to be more to this. Ed, please. Please don’t take up false hope now. Armstrong’s going over a map, saying there are four Alchemy Labs in Central with ties to the government, and Marcoh worked in the third. So they have a place to look for more information. Wait, hold on. You knew there was a lab in this very city that Marcoh worked at? Why didn’t you go there to look for any of his notes earlier, see if they would help with deciphering the others? Talking about how he’s visited all the laboratories before, Ed points out a crossed-out building. Seems it was designed for a fifth lab, but it currently isn’t in use since the building isn’t structurally sound. Gee, an “empty” lab, classified off-limits? That’s not suspicious at all. As for more evidence towards it, right next door is a prison. Oh, I get it! If Philosopher Stones need multiple human sacrifices to make, you’d need a source of death, which would indicate either a death-sentence prison or… a hospital… Show. Show, listen to me. With all these mentions of Sheska’s mother going to a nicer hospital? Don’t you DARE follow that thread. Ahem. Ed clues them in on the use of “executed” prisoners to make the Stone. Yeesh, “potential to become a political nightmare” is an understatement, Armstrong. He’ll look into it tonight, in the meantime the other officers are to say nothing. And the Elrics are to behave themselves! Armstrong’s in full Scary Superior Mode, knowing full well that they were planning to sneak into the building and look around. The Elrics claim innocence- -before a smash-cut to them doing that exact thing. Yep, a guard posted at an “unused” building? That’s as obvious a sign as any. Since they can’t risk the light from Transmuting a hole in the wall, they have to settle for Ed getting tossed up to the top, and making a barbed-wire rope for Ed. Thank goodness for those metal arms! Door’s blocked, how are they going to get past that. Ed sees… no. Ed, NO. Do NOT go off on your own! Aaaargh! Edward Elric, you listen to me! You suspect that this building is a base for creating Philosopher Stones? Aka that thing that people are KILLED for? You are walking right into a horror movie, DO NOT split up! But of course he does. And he leaves a [DEJECTED] Alphonse behind, crying that he didn’t ask to get too big to fit through the vents. Shame on you, Ed. Shame on you. Inside, among shadows and fog, two voices speak, identified as [66] and [48]. Prisoners? Rather mutated ones, if that’s the case based on their shadowed forms. Ed’s still skulking through the vent, commenting on how small it is… “Oh no! I just called myself a tiny little pipsqueak!” While funny, this is not the time! Be quiet! Breaking out into a hallway, he notes that there are lights on. Yep, definitely “not currently in use”. Outside Al’s worried that Ed’s taking a while. Uh oh, looks like one of the Mutants on the roof, with a big knife. I mean, that won’t hurt Al, right? Right?! Aaaand end credits. Damn it! Ok, well this was one heck of an episode. Learning the secret of Philosopher Stones? The return of “souls as batteries”? That was not a pleasant surprise. If one good thing has come out of this, it’s that I am increasingly convinced this is the prelude to a State Alchemist Revolt. First being used by your government to commit genocide, now learning that the authorities are committing human sacrifice to increase their power? I look forward to Roy, Riza, Armstrong and the others standing up against this injustice. A pity that this is the final nail in the “Fuhrer Bradley is a Bad Guy” coffin, I liked his personality. But I don’t care what kind of excuse he’s gonna use for all of this, this government needs to go down. Should make for an enjoyable fight at least, Bradley’s super-speed against our guys. Post-Credits “There were once two men who knew more of bloody blades than human sympathy. They snuffed out life, laughing as their weapons flew. Now, they guard the darkness, hollow shells of the villains they once were. Next time, on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood-” Episode 08: “The Fifth Laboratory” “There are those who find pleasure only in battle, who feel alive only during a fight. They are coming soon… with blood on their hands.”

#wmtw #where my twin watches #ranubis #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 7

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umbralich · 5 years ago

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Never ending survey

RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs!

Tagged by: @lareine-kira and @paleshadeofrose

Tagging: @hangedemperor , @istolin , @maximiloix , @trahja-tia , @eorzeasfrozenknight , @charm-in-spades , @thorcatte , @haila-wetyios , @a-sharlayan-abroad

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BASICS.

FULL NAME: Varg Blacksoul, formerly Timur Oronir NICKNAME: Varg-Varg (given by Lareine), Stiffy and Grumpy (given by Silke) AGE: 54 BIRTHDAY: 9th sun of the 1st astral moon ETHNIC GROUP: Xaela Au Ra NATIONALITY: Othard, Ishgard LANGUAGE/S: Common, xaelic, ishgardian SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single and not looking for company. HOME TOWN / AREA: Dawn Throne, Azim Steppe CURRENT HOME: Pillars, Ishgard PROFESSION: Paladin, medic/healer at Ishgard’s service.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Long and silvery grey. EYES: Black with white limbal rings, small irises. FACE: Angular features, long nose, high cheekbones. LIPS: Narrow, often cracked, slightly darker than his usual skin color. COMPLEXION: Grayish purple BLEMISHES: Dark circles SCARS: Lots of scars which he keeps hidden at all times. Two thick, long ones are visible and almost go across his right eye. TATTOOS: No tattoos. HEIGHT: 210cm WEIGHT: Slightly underweight BUILD: Slender but masculine, somewhat toned. FEATURES: Black markings around eyes, and naturally thick, black claws. ALLERGIES: None USUAL HAIR STYLE: At work or formal meetings it’s combed back either completely or with some locks on his temples left loose. In more casual situations he mostly just lets it be. USUAL FACE LOOK: Calm, focused, narrowed eyes. USUAL CLOTHING: Full, dignified heavy armor or parts of it combined with a long coat, formal robes, jodhpurs, vests, blouses and high-heeled boots.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Imprisonment, being held or tied down, physical pain, betrayal. ASPIRATION/S: To be successful, self-sufficient and powerful until the end, to bring as many as possible wrongdoers to justice, to find an heir, and catch people still on the loose who managed to escape his revenge long ago.

POSITIVE TRAITS: He keeps his word, doesn’t leave things unfinished, is a good motivator for slackers, aims for high-quality results in everything, is reasonable and logical.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Insensible towards most of people, logic always comes before his own or other people’s feelings, very straightforward, capable of cruelty if necessary.

TEMPERAMENT: Calm SOUL TYPE/S: Thinker ANIMALS: Gray wolf

VICE HABIT/S: Smoking. He hates it, but it’s the least harmful thing that calms his nerves down, and he’s addicted. He tries to limit it though, and use it only in worst occasions, since he doesn’t want the side effects affecting his health or work. If things get especially grim, he also has full stashes of potent liquor and intravenous sedatives.

FAITH: Science usually comes first, but he’s also spiritual in some way. It’s one of those topics he doesn’t discuss with anyone. Some of his duties include working as a cleric, so it may have something to do with Halone. Or then it doesn’t, and it’s just another job.

GHOSTS?: Has seen them with his own eyes so can’t deny their existence. AFTERLIFE?: He hopes it exists, for reasons. REINCARNATION?: It’s a possibility.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Generally neutral, but on demand would choose the side of underdogs: ignoble, the poor and the sick, minors etc. Wouldn’t show his alignment publicly if it was a threat to himself. Would also pretend to be supporting the oppressor, only trying to sabotage their work at every opportunity. Even I’m not sure would he actually die for anyone else or some common cause. He has fled once to save his own hide and he could do it again. Knows main points of what’s going on and where around the world for the sake of common knowledge, but is only interested in topics that concern himself. Has been a target for racists since arriving to Ishgard as a teenager, so he despises them from the bottom of his heart.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Learned

FAMILY.

FATHER : Not relevant MOTHER : Not relevant SIBLINGS : None that he knows of EXTENDED FAMILY: Iris Ymir (patient and protege) and Arsene Dreadeois (butler)

NAME MEANING/S:

Timur is a Turkic and Mongolic name which literally means iron. In Indonesian, timur translates to east and symbolizes hope by the rising sun.

All members of the Oronir tribe believe themselves to be direct descendants of Azim, the tribe's god of the sun.

Varg is wolf in swedish. Varg was also originally a nickname given by his friends at the Steppe. It was the only thing he kept after starting his new life in Ishgard and severing his ties with his homeland.

Blacksoul was given by his comrades in the army for being so ruthless towards enemies - both the ones on the battlefield and the ones captured.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: None

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Science, mythology, swordplay, alchemy, etc. Everything that has something to do with his work or hobbies. DEITY: Halone seems to share most of his values. HOLIDAY: Doesn’t celebrate any. MONTH: September and October. There isn’t many little things in life he gets pleasure from, but fall colors is one of them. SEASON: Fall and winter. PLACE: His estate, cathedrals, libraries and forges. WEATHER: Thick fog, rain and sunshine at the same time. SOUND/S: Fire, rain and musical instruments when someone who actually knows what they’re doing plays them. SCENT/S: Herbs, iron, parchment. TASTE/S: Whisky, tea, whatever Arsene makes. FEEL/S: Clean clothes, heat radiating from a fireplace. ANIMAL/S: Doesn’t like animals except for his chocobo, Mori. NUMBER: Doesn’t care about numbers. COLORS: White, black, blood red, gold, silver.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Accuracy of a chirurgeon, skillful with swords, managing to define a goal fast in any kind of surprising situation and being very patient and stubborn at achieving it. BAD AT: Admitting he has weaknesses, comforting people, having fun, small talk, relaxing. HOBBIES: Reading, studying, weapon maintenance, alchemy. TROPES: Antihero, tragic hero and mad scientist. Definitely could also be a villain. Depends on whom you ask.

QUOTES:

“Since you seem to be so worried of my… customers, perhaps I should take you along the next time I interrogate them. You would see with your own eyes what kind of delicate, exquisite and misunderstood individuals they are, when they spit on you, mock their victims and brag about the amount of people they have raped or murdered.”

“Today it happens. Make sure she is out of here before I return tonight. I am no longer even sure which one of them is the worse one.”

“It was a mere procedure. If procedures were considered intimate, I would be close friends with half of Ishgard by now.”

“Do tell me... If you work as much as you claim, how come you are always broke when we meet?”

“Very well. Play something for me. Let us see are you a man of your word.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

A1 : He’s been busy sticking his spoon into so many soups during his life that you could probably make a trilogy of his fooleries feats. The first part would tell about his early life in Azim Steppe and how he was forced to leave from there, the second part about how he found his soulmate and adapted to his new life in Ishgard, and how it all eventually ended up into a shitstorm, and the third one would be the current storyline. No clue about the name, though. The Soulforge would be perfect but too bad it’s taken.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

A2 : Bloodborne, Dark Souls and Amnesia the Dark Descent OSTs are absolutely the closest ones you could get to Varg. Orchestral, choir, bowed string instruments, both epic and monstrous. Even if there were more peaceful pieces here and there, while listening to them you’d still have that same feeling of dread you used to have while playing the original Resident Evil and Silent Hill games and finding a safe room: you just barely escaped death but can’t stay in the safe haven forever.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

A3 : He’s quite different compared to my Forsaken shadow priestess in WoW, whom I used to RP for... two or three years? Long story short: I wanted something else for a change. I also used to have an old Forsaken death knight, who was a lot more similar to Varg, but he was more evil. He existed pretty much only for occasions when someone needed a true villain for some plot. He was funny however and I always thought it was a pity I didn’t get chances to RP him more often.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

A4 : He’s a mixture of four different OCs of mine, with a bit of his original spice ofc. One of them came into being in, uh, somewhat obscure conditions. Kept seeing him in my dreams when I was a kid, and he became one of my imaginary friends I used to have back then. And not just one of the many, but the closest one. Also generally in entertainment I couldn’t care less about Lukes and Frodos. Villains, tragic heroes and the like are my thing. They’re usually the most multilayered and interesting characters.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 : Perfectionism. I’m similar and it sometimes drives me nuts to watch him neglecting himself while trying to achieve perfection. If I could physically talk to him I would go and slap him and be like “EAT. SLEEP. YES THE THING IS GOOD ENOUGH ALREADY. LEAVE IT.”

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

A6 : Well, already kind of answered this one, but wait, there’s more: insomnia, nightmares, PTSD, misanthropy and cynicism come to mind first. And booze. How could I almost forget booze? I believe I know what misery is so I’m good at RPing miserable characters and make them look as authentic as possible. *lols like Alcyone from Magic Knight Rayearth* We both also have a strong sense of justice and nonexistent sympathy for those who use others as stepping stones. Aye I know, sounds a lot like a self-insert character, but it’s not like that. It’s more like... before meeting him/the OCs he’s based on, I used to be quite a scentless and tasteless kid. Similarities and peer support attract. And I’ve also learned from him.

It’s also a lot like me and Lareine. We became friends because we had 95% of the same interests and problems but perhaps that’s why we get along so well and understand each other.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

A7 : He would probably hate and like me at the same time. Or couldn’t decide. We both like peace and quiet, doing our job well is fundamental and our basic values are pretty much the same. We would get along well if we worked in the same place. However, unlike him, I have some horrid procrastination seasons, crippling self-esteem issues, tend to put other people’s needs and opinions above my own and keep stressing about things for 7 billion souls instead of just myself. I’m suspicious of pretty much everything else except Lareine and our plushie crow Agatha, except that Agatha creeps me out sometimes as well when she takes out a knife and sits next to my bed at night, staring at me, can’t watch Hachiko without bawling my eyes out during the entire movie, love puppies and kittens and danger noodles and I’m addicted to video games. Very likely he’d kick me out as well.

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?

A8 : Varg would never admit it to himself, but I think he gets best along with people who are a bit silly in some way, and who get on his nerves by being too carefree and doing stupid things. Lareine and Iris, when they’re behaving. Arsene, who’s kind at everyone. Currently Shaura is my favorite. Varg himself is so uptight people like them help breaking his gray routines. Also a bonus: he doesn’t see them as a threat, so that’s probably the closest he’s able to get to relaxing among other people.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse?

A9 : I’m a fan of my own characters. It doesn’t feel like I would’ve created them. I saw them with my third eye or something and I’ve just written for others to read what I’ve seen. I don’t plan RPs beforehand. I just let the hound loose and let him do whatever he wants. So far I haven’t got tired of my characters’ antics and could just write more. The only obstacles are limited hours per day, necessary evils like eating and sleeping, procrastination, trying to sort out my life, and the damn FFXIV. SOMEONE PLEASE TAKE IT OUT OF MY HANDS.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?

A10 : Ehh, maybe 4-5 hours.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #character info #au ra #never ending survey

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nemenalya · 5 years ago

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I finally found enough fitting names to be able to post the great overview of my Elder Scrolls characters and their family. The earlier generations up to my Vestige will be included in a names only form at some point. Anyways, this means that I will now very happily talk about the Llares clan at every opportunity.

Short descriptions of everyone (in order of birth for simplicity’s sake) under the cut because this will be a looong post (like almost three thousand words long):

Tavynu Llares

Grew up in Cheydinhal as the only child of her parents but later settled in Bruma after having joined and studied under the Mages´ Guild. Though she is born into minor Telvanni nobility she never considered going to Morrowind or actually getting involved in House business and much preferred researching in relative anonymity. She studies and teaches alchemy and has a certain interest in alteration but generally doesn´t employ too much magic into her daily life (not for lack of skill, she just doesn´t care enough). Despite having grown up among Men she still tries to teach her children about Dunmeri culture, language and religion. More often than not she leaves that role to her ancestors or her Morrowind-born husband, who she feels are much more suited to the task. She found her tragically early end during the Oblivion crisis and was buried in Bruma by her husband.

Delas Sareni

The youngest son of the side-branch of a minor noble family loosely associated with House Indoril; in other words an absolute nobody. With little talent or love for either fighting or statecraft he turned to the arts and ended up becoming a quite talented painter with a focus on traditional Dunmeri styles and religious motifs. He met his future wife at a festival for one of the Tribunal high holidays and ended up moving from Mournhold out onto the countryside to live with her. Some years later, he was rather surprisingly commissioned by a Dres trader to paint a mural in his Cyrodiilic estate and the pair, together with their young son moved to the Imperial City, where he grew to some fame among the Dunmeri diaspora.

Arvis Semoran

Grew up on the mainland coast of the Inner Sea without any special affiliation to the Great Houses. He joined a group of traveling merchants that first stuck to selling wares in different parts of Morrowind but came to realize that there was good money in selling their (not always legally exported) goods in other provinces. One time, the group did try to make it to the far west of the continent but the additional effort and dangers made going beyond Cyrodiil rather risky and unprofitable. After almost three decades on the road he met his wife when the group got unexpectedly stuck in Bruma over the winter. While he did leave he decided to trust his feelings and leave the merchant band when they next stopped in Bruma. His tries at being a stationary merchant worked only somewhat well, which gave him time to be the main caretaker of his and Tavynu´s twin children. Very early in the fourth era, after the death of his wife, he retired to relative anonymity in Morrowind and only kept sporadic contact with the twins as he tied to stay well away from his daughter´s political machinations.

Nalu Relyn

A retainer of House Dres who grew up on the plains of Deshaan, she became the personal guard and later trusted agent of a young Dres noble. As a very devout person she went on a number of pilgrimages over the years, including one to Mournhold where she met her Indoril husband. She still stayed loyal to her original House and convinced Delas to move back to the countryside with her as the cities unsettled her. Many years later her lord sent her to Cyrodiil to spy in and interfere with the business of some Hlaalu merchants that he had gotten into conflict with before. It was also him who arranged for her husband to be contracted to the Imperial City as a cover story. Nalu absolutely hated having to raise her son outside of Morrowind but was still ready to put her House´s needs first. She went back to Morrowind after the Oblivion crisis and the Red Year to help her much decimated House. While never a great fan of the Empire she truly put all her skills into the independence movement after her son´s death.

Mervyn Sareni

Born in southern Deshaan he moved to the Imperial City with his family at age seven. He is raised in a very conservative Dunmeri way and frequently comes into arguments with people from other races, especially as he grew older and started hanging out in shady bars with other young Dunmer. Those arguments often turned into fights and one night he half-drunkenly stabbed someone over a perceived sleight. His mother helped him come to terms with it but the murder left him cautious and even more avoidant of the guards. When they finally did arrest and deport him it is for continuous disturbance of the peace as the guards never bothered to investigate the death of a known drunkard. Once in Morrowind he continued getting into trouble and spentmost of his first weeks in run-down cornerclubs before managing to fall in with the Morag Tong during one of his clearer moments. Working for the guild helped break the monotony and sharpens his skills while keeping him out of the worst of troubles. He was good at the work but it made him restless and he only found peace when he got involved with the Temple and realized that he is capable of actively helping his Dunmeri brethren. He worked his way up in both organizations, managing to reconcile the two moral systems while firmly keeping to the Tribunal, the religion he was raised with. His beliefs were tested when he met Aluri, by then the rising star of House Telvanni, and over time learned about her involvement in the Nerevarine prophecy. He trusted her enough to try and keep both the Temple and the Tong off of her as well as possible, something that he continued to do during her rule as Hortator. The two of them married about a decade later and he stayed with her in Tel Uvirith and later Port Telvannis. Up until his death he never truly got used to her friendship with Vivec though, or the fact that his god lived with them.

Telvanni Aluri Llares

The older Llares twin; rose to power as the Great Hortator and Nerevarine. Despite growing up in Bruma, the twins were raised with the culture and stories of their people and often longed to see the country of their ancestors. Aluri always had more magical talent than common sense and already at a very young age grew frustrated with the slow progress she made studying under her mother’s friends in the Mages’ Guild. Remembering the stories her ancestors would tell them she convinced her brother to run off to Morrowind to find better tutelage with their House or in their god’s city. The two actually got somewhat far before their father managed to track down the trading caravan they had hitched a ride on. Afterwards, her family tried to give her greater access to the libraries and resources of the Guild, even though they stayed very concerned for her safety. On her visits to the Arcane University with her mother Aluri fell into a habit of borrowing complicated tomes for an indefinite amount of time. It was this behaviour that eventually saw her arrested by the guards, with the rest being history. Once thrown into the situation on Vvardenfell she first sought out the familiar camaraderie of the Mages’ Guild before realizing that she needed local allies. Hailing from the distant branch of a mainland Telvanni family she had little support in her House at first but she relished in working her way to the top. The prophecy always was more of a side note for her, an excuse to go digging around in ancient ruins and obscure cultures, which she could write home to her brother about to convince him to join her. Despite the power she gained from it she never forgave the Blades for trying to manipulate her and later took a decidedly anti-Imperial stance. After the events of the prophecy had played out she took a background role in Dunmeri politics with the actual power resting in the hands of the Grand Council. She served more as a figurehead and keeper of the law between Houses, which gave her enough time to focus on her studies and those duties of a Telvanni councillor that she couldn´t delegate to her Mouth.

Selin Llares

The younger twin and the one who actually enabled Aluri to live her crazy life. He had little interest in material possessions or combat magic and instead spent his time studying obscure histories. When his sister invited him to Morrowind he settled in Tel Uvirith with her and focused his studies on Dwemeri texts and artefacts that she brought him from her travels. In a way she kept him in a golden cage, always protective of him and listening to his opinions but at the same time saddling him with duties and projects that would keep him from exploring the island himself. His existence added some further confusion to the entire prophecy as the twins often said that they shared one soul, which threw those who actually believed Aluri to be Nerevar incarnate into wild speculations about his role in the prophecy and resulted in some historical inaccuracies between reports. Selin served as his sister’s representative and spokesperson when she was away, basically running the day-to-day affairs of the tower, and later raised both his nieces almost on his own with occasional help from Alouri’s close friends.

Quarminir

The middle child of an Altmeri merchant family with a culturally somewhat frowned upon drive to make their way up into the higher ranks of Summerset society. He received a thorough education and has some skill in the magical arts but much prefers to spend his time talking philosophy, diplomacy or just talking in general. Once he was more than halfway into his second century he finally found an excuse to travel out of the Dominion territories, ostensibly to look for new trading opportunities for his family. After spending some years in different provinces he found perhaps the most unfortunate time to visit Skyrim and his old friend Ondolemar in Markarth. He did however end up meeting his future wife when she barged in on one of their conversations. Despite her not being an Altmer her was quite enamoured and glad to meet her again at a celebration in the Thalmor embassy. He greatly enjoyed the feeling of freedom he had so far from home, even though he sometimes missed the comforts of the Isles or feared for his family’s reputation, and ended up marrying Mehresa and staying with her. Afterwards, he spent his time building connections and writing about both the current political situation and lighter topics, such as children’s tales or the differences between Altmeri and Dunmeri family structures.

Telvanni Mehresa Llares

The daughter of powerful people she mostly grew up in Port Telvannis but often travelled to Blacklight and other cities with her mother. After she lost her father before age ten her uncle stepped in and raised her, while her mother grew more distant and threw herself into her political duties. Nonetheless, and possibly out of guilt over her absence, her mother made sure that she always had skilled teachers to give her a thorough education on anything she showed interest in, including strategy, geography, magic and different languages. She ran into the Imperial ambush and her own prophecy as the last Dragonborn after visiting her grandmother’s grave in Bruma and deciding to take the scenic route through Skyrim back to Morrowind. Deciding that it was time for her to actually build a life for herself away from the direct influence of her family she started making her case at different courts to prove her worth and gain her own allies. She tried to stay away from the civil war as she neither liked the Stormcloak’s view nor wanted to help the Empire that they had just thrown out of her home province. Instead, she spent a lot of time researching with the College or travelling the land to find possible ways to control and grow her Thu’um. When the Blades got in her way she gladly continued her mother’s feud with them and sold them out to the Thalmor, a decision that lead to her meeting her future husband. For the time being she enjoyed her life in southern Skyrim where she has built something of a Dunmeri commune as encouragement for her people to finally help themselves instead of lamenting about the Nords. Nonetheless, after having to strike more than one deal with Hermaeus Mora she always feared that one day she would give in to the thrall of knowledge and leave behind her family to get lost in the depths of Apocrypha.

Telvanni Khesra Llares

Her birth was surrounded by controversy, especially as her mother refused to share the identity of her father with anyone beyond her closest family. She got along very well with her half-sister Mehresa, despite their age difference of about eighty years, and would have gladly accompanied her to Bruma and Skyrim if she hadn´t just started her apprenticeship. Finding a master among the highest ranks of House Telvanni had been easy enough for her at the end due to both her natural talent and her mother’s influence, but it came at the price of the ostensible freedom her sister enjoyed. Still,Khesra was always driven by the desire to make her way to the top of their House and the promises of power and longevity that came with that path, and was more than willing to make those sacrifices. And even though she made a point of showing that she could make it by her own cunning and skills only, she recognized that she shouldn’t disregard her family’s influence and expertise. So she made it a point to meet up with her family before or during her travels, which basically meant whenever her master decided to send her out to do research or run errands for him.

Areyne Llares

The eldest and most Altmeri looking out of her sisters she unsettled her paternal grandparents the most but was gladly accepted by her mother’s family. She loved spending her time at Lake Ilinalta during her youth and later developed a great interest in the sea and sailing. When her family realised this they sent her to her maternal grandmother who first organized for her to join a crew to learn under and then helped her acquire a ship of her own. Using her mixed heritage to her advantage as far as possible, she started trading luxury goods with the Isles, both through her grandparents and on her own. With her colourful stories and exotic looks she enjoyed the attention of young Altmer ladies unhappy with their strict societal norms, which didn’t exactly endear her to their families.

Sedris Llares

The unruly middle child of the family she always had a certain desire to get around and travel. As a compromise, her mother convinced her to stay at home at least until she developed some skills in weapons and magic to defend herself, and even afterwards often asked her to not leave entirely alone. She went and traversed first Skyrim and then Morrowind before joining a mercenary band for a little while. After a few years she started chafing under their commander and simply left one night when they were between contracts. When she arrived back at her family’s home, she had a long discussion with her mother and decided to go and find some inner peace in meditation with the dragons, before she eventually gave up and ran away again to make her way to the west.

Telvanni Vesryn Llares

Currently the youngest member of her clan she was also the only one of the three to show any interest in being an active and ranking member of their House. Gifted with magical talent, a boundless curiosity and most importantly a healthy appreciation of safety measures she managed to learn a lot from accompanying her mother to the College during her youth. Before long and with her sisters already on their way to build their own lives she begged to be allowed to go and study under her grandmother in Port Telvannis. The two quickly worked out that she would later have to find another master for an actual apprenticeship but still enjoyed working together. She also developed a very close relationship to her aunt who introduced her to some of the finer details of life among the Telvanni. Some of her family members were a bit disappointed when she showed great interest in becoming a mycologist instead of striving for greater power but most just accepted it as youthful folly and provided reserved support while trying to nudge her into other fields.

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wirewitchviolet · 5 years ago

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RPG Campaign Setting Thoughts - The Origins of Magic

Previous entries in this series of posts:

The Planes

Alignment, Death, and Outsiders

The Actual, You Know, Setting

Today’s topic is something I think should really be the biggest preoccupation of any RPG campaign setting where it’s a concern, but one that most seem to gloss right over- Where the hell did all these spell casters come from? While I’m at it, I have officially decided that if I get a book out for all this, I’m going to include 4 PC classes (in addition to compatibility with all the existing options out there), covering the basics of Standard Party Composition and filling in some setting gaps here. Swashbuckler for a fighter type (never been happy with Paizo’s take on finesse-y fighters, might call it something else), single-school-focus wizards (gonna have to bust out the thesaurus for an unused name), divine casters who allow themselves to be possessed by agents of their deity (will likely come out like some kinda variant druid as a result), and something for the general rogue/bard 4th slot that’s a bit different that I’m tentatively calling The Party Mom Class.

Anyway, on with the magic origins. As I’ve already largely established, I think, most deities don’t really hold any direct sway over the prime material plane, and physical manifestation type stuff isn’t a thing. Divine casters of course open the door for all kinds of stuff, but you need to learn how to pray to your deity first, so as kind of a weird quirk I guess, every tradition of divine casters here is inherently rooted in arcane casters working out the whole astral projection thing, or people coming back from the dead having learned some things out there. The core deity list is something I’d really like to get some creative input on from practitioners of actual pantheistic religions, but I definitely want to get into the first follower of each once I get to listing them out, and how they came to be such.

So OK. Clerics come after wizards, but with wizards, there’s two things to worry about. They need some existing magic in the world to study, and they need a real good in-world reason to draw sharp divisions between different schools of magic. Well, OK NEED is a strong word. You could pretty much just merge everything together with no effect beyond it being a lot easier to look up spells by level and drop the whole school thing with little to no consequence, but I LIKE schools, so I need to rationalize them.

So my thinking is, every school of magic originally started as literally a different school, isolated from the others in a different part of the world, coming at the whole “magic” thing from a different angle. And this of course all only really applies to STUDIED magic. The whole concept of the prime material plane being painted with the inner planes used as a palette, coupled with the inner planes being inhabited just inherently means you’re going to have elementals and genies around from the beginning of time, along with dragons. And while I am writing out the whole concept of half-orcs and half-elves, all bets are off for people like ifrits and oreads and tieflings, so sorcerers are also going to be in play well before wizards.

So really, let me just put together a rough timeline on all things magic here:

Deities have just always been out there, with various outsiders forming as deaths happen and so on.

Elementals and anything else from the inner planes, while rare, have always been hanging out on the prime material, with half-mortal children following as soon as other creatures hit the table, really.

Dragons were probably one of the first types of creature to be created in the world, linnorms especially. And again, there’s some innate magic to them plus plenty of capacity for half-dragon children.

The first spellcasting class to really come about in the world though is going to be oracles. Oracles just happen after all. Mysterious circumstances of birth, ties to the great mysterious magic of the wold, no real teachers or questing or heritage involved. They’re rare though.

Sorcerers are next to hit the scene, because hey, after a few generations those half-genies and half-dragons are going to dilute down to bloodlines. Bloodragers come in at the same time, two sides of the same coin and I see it.

I’d go one further too and say all of the above predate even the basics of civilization. Which you do need at least a bit of to really get the ball rolling on the rest of the classes.

Druids come in next. A long secretive tradition of just trying to study and worship the natural world around them without bringing in any expectations, secretive order though, so they keep what they know to themselves. The more learned druids are probably going to work out some notion that there’s an afterlife thanks to reincarnate being a spell and all, but I don’t really see any other religious beliefs splintering off there. Just a weird thing to not think too hard about while you get used to being a dwarf woman or a boar or something

The first proper schools of magic I see springing up as people really start to settle down and invent systems of writing and social structures allowing for dedicated scholars are Evocation and Transmutation. Likely founded close enough together in terms of the actual date, but far enough away that nobody can really conclusively sort out the various calendars or lack thereof and be certain which came first. You’ve got raw elemental forces clearly evident as something magical because, again, elementals on the prime material plane are absolutely a thing, someone’s going to try to pin down how they work. Elves are out there routinely having their Doctor Who regenerations, along with the odd druid wildshaping, so, changing things around is equally likely to be stumbled across.

Alchemy begins as a tradition sometime after these, largely born out of a movement of skeptics seeing some of these early evokers and transmuters, trying to recreate what they do, maybe swiping some glances at spellbooks. Potions and recipes for them inherently spread around the world a bit faster than a bunch of nerds filling libraries in budding schools, too.

Next up, Necromancy. If humanity as a whole has people who can manipulate the elements, and make changes to people’s bodies out there, someone’s going to get it into their head to go all Full Metal Alchemist and work out exactly what’s so different about a living creature than a rock or something, and start some pretty depraved experimentation. Probably really focused on poisons and diseases at first, eventually getting some handle on the whole notion of souls and alternate forces that can animate a body, and eventually working up to the real serious game changer that is astral projection, and getting a handle on the whole notion of the outer planes.

One of the first proper divine casters is going to come along real shortly thereafter when some necromancer makes a new friend out there... and probably one of the nastier ones too. Like, when I have a pantheon nailed down and need to have a real proper “this is just the WORST deity who needs to seriously be fought against, probably the first to make contact with humanity.

So now we have this divine class I’m working on, followed shortly by clerics. And evil outsiders possessing people and corpses and generally making things less than great, along with giving the whole school of necromancy kind of a bad name for opening that up.

Tieflings naturally follow, and some more bloodlines of course.

Enchantment is the next school to be founded, because we have all these outsiders around now to give examples of how charms and profane gifts and such work to use as a model.

Illusion follows, kind of a parallel development, again, there’s a lot to learn from studying evil outsiders.

At this point in the history of the world, magic is going to have a pretty bad reputation in general, but hey, fight fire with fire, right?

Next out the gate though is bards and skalds. There’s 5 schools of magic out there in the world, so naturally you’re going to have people trying to pay them all a visit, learn a few handy tricks, pick up a lot of other esoteric knowledge as they go, and tell a good story. This also helps really spread the whole magic notion to any parts of the world who haven’t been paying it much attention.

So, the other schools are going to all spring up in bursts, as new eyes get on the whole magic concept. Abjuration to try and avoid dealing with the dangers of other forms of magic (and consequently, one with very few pure practitioners, nice to know at least a few other spells to know how to counter them). Conjuration largely as a fusion of the theories behind Necromancer and Evocation to see what can be pulled out of these other planes without the nastier baggage. Divination largely as a means of working out what’s up out there, and Psychic magic as a sort of alternate take on the whole thing, building up inner strength against these things, tied to monks culturally.

Other religious practices and paths to power are going to spring up along the way, fuzzier to pin down what crops out when without a full pantheon nailed down or major nations of the world. Shamans are probably about as old as druids, similar mindset involved. Witches probably crop up shortly after learning about some of the more powerful outsiders, with experimentation on how to get in touch with such without all the possession and astral projection and so on, and informed by some of the more naturalistic magic practices.

And while I do like the concept of the world’s first interaction with divine powers being on the grimdark side, I would think the rest of the pantheon would get in touch with people pretty soon after. Plenty of other necromancers to astrally project, learn what else is out there, make contact with other deities and outsiders. Divination is another gateway. Religious traditions that don’t involve spell-granting deities are going to precede all of this, and some practicioners on learning about this class I’m creating are probably going to try going receptive on blind faith, getting in touch with outsiders with similar sensibilities.

Then as we get closer to the present day of course, the trade in magic bards got started is going to get books on at least the basics propagating all over the world beyond these few founding schools so regular ol’ wizards with a full range of spells are now the most common by far, magi pick up enough to pair with swords. Arcanists to really go all turbo-nerd and try to break down theoretical fundamentals underpinning everything. Churches get big and militant enough for paladins, inquisitors, war priests. Anything I’m forgetting here?

Oh, and ironically enough, the creator god I’m calling Brin as a placeholder, despite having the most obvious visible impact on the world from the dawn of time is one of the last to really get a formal church. They don’t need mortal agents to influence things, they don’t have any reason to care what happens with anyone’s souls, and they aren’t based out in the outer planes, Really they’re a bit like Paizo’s Groetus in terms of ”why would anyone pick you to formally worship?”

#game design #worldbuilding #rpg campaign setting #d&d

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uraniumwriting · 6 years ago

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The Library

(Joseph’s POV)

Tag list: @soul-write (ask to join!)

The Junesville Public Library was, as much I hate to admit it, not one of your top-of-the-run libraries. There was no high-tech teen section for the high schoolers to hang out in, the lights never fully worked, and there always seemed to be a thick layer of dust against the rough book spines that lined the shelves.

But, it was quiet. And it was heaven.

“Izzy, check this out!” I held out a brick-red book that I had pulled off of one of the back shelves, where no one but myself would normally go. It was bound in what felt like leather, and even with the softness of my touch, being experienced in handling more fragile books, it felt as if the book would turn to dust in my hands.

“Joseph, this better not be another weird alchemy book, or else I’m leaving you here. It was only one time that I nearly blew up the chem lab.” My sister, Isabelle, popped her head out from behind one of the nearby bookcases. Her nearly black hair was pulled up into one of the messiest buns possible, perfectly matching her ensemble of a neatly pressed school uniform, which was, as usual, without one piece out of place.

“No, it’s not, I promise. And it’s not any sappy poetry, either.” I moved over to her, looking up slightly in order to look her in the eyes. “It’s a book from the Archbishop of Lyons, from like, the 18th-century. It’s about aliens. I think. It says that people believed that they’re was some sort of people that came from the sky.”

“What, you’re trying to figure out where I came from?” Isabelle laughed, though it sounded a bit strained. Despite that, I still had to shush her, since we had to stay at least sort of quiet in the library. The librarian was already suspicious of us being there so often, after all. She then gently took the book from me, struggling for a moment as she pulled it towards her chest.

“Iz, you--”

“I’m fine.” Isabelle smiled at me, reaching out and weakly ruffling my hair. “Don’t worry about me, I mean it.” And with that, she turned and walked back into the endless rows of books.

I stared off after her.

To most people, Izzy wouldn’t seem like much, being so frail and easily fatigued. She wasn’t a fast runner, or could really do anything impressive, physical-wise. But, I knew she was stronger than her looks let on. I knew how much she worked for everyone else, even when her own body was fighting against every move she made. I knew how much she loved my other sister and I, and would anything to make sure we knew that. I knew that she was too proud to ask for help, even when she desperately needed it. I knew she was strong.

I only wish I could be strong for her.

I moved back towards the shelves, wondering how I dampened my mood so easily, when a specific book caught my eye. It was out of place, its cover much more saturated than those around it. I walked over to it, almost wondering if I was making it up. I was too afraid to touch the book, but there was no title printed on its spine. So, I gently slid the book off of the shelf, a strange but comforting warmth flowing into my fingers. I turned the book around to see its title.

From the Tower. Sounded like fiction.

“Probably was put in the wrong spot.” I started to flip through some of the pages, not knowing how the book could even had ended up in the shelves of old books.

“I have read that one before.” I looked up when I heard a deep voice that was definitely not one of my sisters’, barely avoiding a collision with the guy next to me. “I recommend it.”

“Oh, uh, hi?” I craned my neck to look the guy in the eyes. He was obnoxiously tall, which didn’t help me feel self-conscious about being obnoxiously short. I studied the guy for a few moments, wondering why someone like him would be in the weird corners of the library. He wasn’t buff, but it was easily to tell that he was very strong, physically. He wasn’t afraid to keep his eyes in contact with mine, and even though his tone sounded kind, he seemed to radiate a violent energy. With that, on top of his sunken-looking features, his pitch-black hair, and the red glint his eyes seemed to have in the lighting…

I have to say it, he looked like a vampire.

“I think you could really learn some things from that book, child. Things that you would truly enjoy to know in your life.” The man placed his hand on my shoulder, and it felt like it was made of solid metal, cold and heavy. I kept my body still, not wanting to worry the man by flinching away from him. After all, I didn’t know what he had been through. If it was actually a prosthetic of some sorts, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Then I’ll, I’ll certainly read it sir.” I glanced around through my peripheral vision, hoping that one of my sisters was nearby. But alas, there was no one to be found. I just hoped that the man would leave soon. “Thank you.”

“It is no problem of mine, child.” The man took his hand off of my shoulder, which was now starting to feel a bit weird. “I will be seeing you soon.” He turned away from me, beginning to walk from which he likely came from. I watched the man go, starting to feel my head start to hurt a bit more than usual.

Probably just a bit shaken up. That’s all.

I tried to take a couple of steps backwards, but my legs felt paralyzed. I knew I was in some sort of trance, but no matter what I thought, I couldn’t get out of it. I started to feel my chest tighten, and my legs were starting to feel less and less real. I opened my mouth to call out to someone, but my voice just wouldn’t come out. I stood there, wondering if I was dying or something of the sorts, until everything went black.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the car, with a lot of panicked yelling. A pair of arms were around my waist, and I could feel that my head was against someone’s shoulder. But, I still felt like I was floating, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t process any of the words around me.

I slipped back into the darkness.

When I woke up again, there was a cool feeling on my head, and I knew I was, once again, back into bed confinement. Whenever my symptoms started to get bad, my parents always forced me to stay in bed for a while. Like that would help if I started hallucinating.

I slowly opened my eyes, unintentionally groaning as I came back to reality.

“Hey Joseph, how’re you feeling?” I heard the hushed voice of my older, but not oldest sister, Diana.

“Like crap.” I managed to choke out, my throat feeling as if something sucked all of the moisture out of it. I tried to sit up slightly, but Diana pushed down on my shoulder to stop me. For some reason, it burned slightly when she did so, and I winced.

“That’s why you need to stay in-- are you okay? Did you hit your shoulder when you fell?” Diana started to panic, starting to get up out of the chair she was on.

“No, I didn’t, it’s, I’m not really sure what happened yet.” I rolled over, away from Diana, not really caring about the wet washcloth that just fell off my head.

The thing is, I never really knew if I could trust Diana when talking about this kind of stuff. It wasn’t that she was malicious, or ever acted like I was crazy, she just didn’t really get it. She would always say that the answer would be to talk to our parents about it, but there was no way I was doing that. Last time I was upfront and open about my symptoms, I got sent to a psych ward for three months.

I didn’t want to go through that again.

“Well, maybe you didn’t sleep well the past couple of days?” I felt Diana try to fix the washcloth, her blonde hair nearly getting into my eye as she did so.

“No, it’s not that, I don’t think I was hallucinating.” The words came out before I could even think about them, and they just kept coming. “I met this man, who told me to read this book that I was holding, and then he placed his hand on my shoulder, and when he took it off I just, I couldn’t move.” And, now I was crying. Love it when I have no emotional stability.

“Wait, was he like, freakishly tall and looked like he was about to cast a spell on everyone and murder them?” That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. I wondered if I was still dreaming.

“Like a vampire? Yeah?”

“He said something to me too. And Izzy.” I heard the chair that Diana had been sitting on fall back, and then footsteps running to the other side of the room.

There was one problem about living in my household, other than the fact that me and both of my siblings could not hold our own bodies together. We also had to all share one bedroom, which while having its perks, meant that no one had any privacy.

Example one, Diana pulling a book out of Izzy’s schoolbag, which had been sitting on the latter’s bed.

“This is the book that was by you when we found you passed out on the floor. Was this the book you were talking about?” Diana was facing me again, shoving the book into my face (and nearly hitting me with it).

“From the Tower? Yeah, that’s it.” I started to become a little concerned at the whole ordeal.

“Jo! I don’t know what he said to Izzy, but he talked to me about preparing for some danger, so maybe we’re going to get to fulfill some sort of--”

“Uh, don’t mean to burst your bubble, but aren’t you worried about this?” I tried to sit up again, this time without being hindered by Diana. Her glittering, blue eyes did not change one bit, though, as she started to pace around the room.

“No, this is amazing! We get to do something cool, something worthwhile!” Diana ran back over to my bed, where I was already regretting sitting up. “Maybe, we’ll be able to save the world.”

Ah yes, three siblings, one with Fibromyalgia, one with enough metal in her mouth to forge a sword, and a third that can’t even trust anything he hears or sees, are going to save the world.

Most people would call that the start of a joke.

#Finders Keepers #Joseph McClain #My writing

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fullmetalirin · 6 years ago

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Fullmetal Alchemist OG vs. Brotherhood: Return to Resembool (OG 17, BH 06)

Resembool breather episode.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 17: "House of the Waiting Family"

The Elrics and Armstrong all return to Resembool, meeting up with Pinako, who agrees to repair Ed in three days time. While the Elrics recuperate, Armstrong assists Winry and Pinako in work. The Elrics later reminisce about their childhood while at their mother's tombstone. Al seems to worry about having fading memories, but Armstrong breaks the tension. A few days later, receiving his replacement arm and leg, Ed uses his alchemy to rebuild Al's armored body from the shattered remains. Afterwards, the brothers and Armstrong head back to Central to find Marcoh's research.

We open with Pinako staring into the sky.

Ed says he hasn't been back to Resembool since he left. How'd he get new limbs, then? He's clearly grown since he was 12, and his automail leg is longer since the flashback. Did Winry keep hopping over to Central to make him new limbs?

Winry is not wearing goggles while she works.

Pinako calls Ed short, and we have the same insult-fu scene from BH 02. Way more appropriate here.

Armstrong is hilarious.

Winry throws a wrench at Ed, similarly to the scene where he transmutes his automail in BH 02.

Al gets cartoon face when being admonished by Winry.

There's a flashback to 03 when Ed visits the grave, but his line about bringing Trisha back is different. I hate when shows do that.

Trisha's epitaph is illegible.

Winry nerds out over Ed's watch. When he refuses to give it to her, she tries flirting with Armstrong, who immediately runs away. LOL.

Armstrong breaks the door when he barges in.

Ed calls Winry an automail nerd, and she calls him a transmutation nerd as payback.

Ed has to be sat down on a bed to ride out the pain of the reattachment.

Winry brings up the possibility of the automail stunting Ed's growth, and says she made the new ones lighter to help.

Armstrong's bishie sparkles fall down when Ed isn't impressed by him. LOL.

Al says it "feels great" when the armor is fixed. I thought he couldn't feel anything?

Ed and Al spar again once they're fixed. Winry realizes the Ed left his watch inside. Hohoho.

When Winry opens the watch, she sees the inscription. I think this is the first time we've seen it in OG.

FMA Brotherhood Episode 6: "Road of Hope"

While Armstrong escorts Edward and Alphonse back to Resembool by train, he spots a man named Tim Marcoh, the "Crystal Alchemist", at a nearby stop. He explains that Marcoh was a state alchemist and doctor during the Ishval civil war, and conducted research on biological alchemy before disappearing at the end of the war. They talk to Marcoh and learn that he was researching the philosopher's stone but only succeeded in creating an incomplete version. At first refusing to share his knowledge with Edward, Marcoh eventually provides a clue to the location of his research data. After they reach Resembool, Winry Rockbell and her grandmother Pinako Rockbell start working on Edward's automail. After receiving his replacement arm and leg, Edward uses his alchemy to rebuild Alphonse's suit of armor from the shattered remains. Afterwards, the Elric brothers, along with Armstrong, head back to Central to look for Marcoh's research.

We open with Hughes seeing them off on the train. We cover why Armstrong is escorting them as protection, but nothing else from OG 16 – no bit with Scar finding out where they're going, no mention that they think Scar was Nina's killer, no "excuse the left-hand salute" line; and while we get the same bit with Ed taking offense at being called a child, we don't get Al saying he appreciates it. Ed also behaves much more normally, with no indication that he's depressed or affected by what he learned last episode.

Armstrong shouts out Marcoh's name in a public train station for everyone to hear, because he's an idiot.

We learn more explicitly that Marcoh was studying healing alchemy. Boy, he sure must feel like an idiot in this continuity where their next-door neighbors already had that figured out for centuries.

Armstrong doesn't seem to know what happened to Marcoh after the war. So Mustang didn't tell him?

Ed only wants to find him because he thinks he could know a way to restore their bodies.

Oh my god Armstrong is showing sketches of Marcoh to everyone in the city. Because it's not like there's a terrifying military dictatorship after him or anything.

The scene where they meet Marcoh plays out similarly, but it's played for comedy, with Marcoh actually firing but Ed dodging out of the way with a cartoony expression. Wow. Wow. A traumatized enabler of war crimes is so terrified of the idea the fascist finally found him he's desperate enough to shoot children? What a barrel of laughs!

And Armstrong convinces him to stand down by crushing him with a suit of armor, which is of course framed for comedy. What is tone.

Maybe it's just a translation difference, but Marcoh doesn't mention wanting to take his own life, just that "I could give my whole life and still not atone". That's a lot weaker.

Armstrong doesn't know what Marcoh was researching? WTF?

Marcoh shows them the Stone instead of Ed having to find it.

Ed pokes it, and we see that it's gel-like.

Marcoh says it's awful that Ed's a State Alchemist knowing what they did in the Ishbalan war. Ed says he knows but he has to do it anyway. He makes a really fancy metaphor.

Marcoh is impressed Ed transmuted Al's soul. So I guess that's a thing in the manga as well.

Marcoh just gives them an ominous warning about the research and throws them out. We get a similar thing where Ed says he knows he could have taken it, but he wants to do the right thing and not deprive the town of Marcoh's help. I dunno, this just feels token to me here. I liked how Ed admitted his younger self definitely would have taken the Stone in OG, and the fact that we directly see Marcoh helping the people makes Ed's decision feel more real. Show, don't tell.

Marcoh gives them directions to his library outright, and says he hopes not only that they'll figure out the truth but that they'll get their bodies back. Uh, so he hopes they'll use his research to kill a ton of people. Why. I also don't see why he can't just tell Ed everything now, when he's not under duress. This is like the worst of all possible worlds for this – not only does he have no reason to fear his research will be either destroyed or exploited and therefore no reason to tell anyone, he also has no reason to not spill all the beans if that's what he really wants.

Lust is waiting for Marcoh when he comes back. So I guess the torture's going to happen to him here too. How did she find him, though? I guess she was spying on Ed? Not like they were making a secret of it, so it wouldn't be hard.

Pinako calls Ed a "regular customer", so Ed probably did visit in this continuity.

There's a funny bit where Pinako says Ed's grown smaller. It's actually pretty good, I'm sad we didn't get it in OG.

Same bit with Winry hitting him with the wrench.

They show Winry the smashed automail and she freaks out. Slapstick where she punches Ed for wrecking it. She kicks Al too.

They explicitly show him attaching the spare, and there's a bit where he initially has trouble finding his balance. Nice detail.

No scene where Al convinces Ed to visit the grave, we just cut to him doing it.

The townspeople don't talk to Ed, just wave.

Pinako explains more about her relationship to the Elrics. Hoenheim was her drinking buddy, apparently.

Pinako tells Armstrong about Winry's parents' deaths and they commiserate over the evils of war.

This is where we learn the Elrics burned down their house. Pinako explains their reasoning, which I think is weaker than hearing it from their own mouths.

We get more shots of Winry working on the automail. Ed keeps harassing her and asking when it will be done.

Reattachment is only momentarily painful, and played for laughs.

Similar bit where Winry explains the new automail is weaker, but it's cut off. She just says she added more chrome to prevent rusting, nothing about the growth-stunting and all that.

Al's repair is a lot choppier.

They reuse the animation of Pinako blowing smoke a lot.

The brothers don't spar with Armstrong.

Winry reflects on how awful it is someone as young as Ed will be a weapon in the military.

Nothing about the watch.

Conclusion

I actually like the second half of the Brotherhood episode! The pacing feels fine, for once. Spending a whole episode on the Rockbell interlude maybe was a bit too much. OG could have easily merged 16 and 17 and probably come out the better for it. We miss out on a few things, but we gain a few other things too, and Brotherhood's additional comedy and lightheartedness is, for once, totally at home with this breather sequence. I feel like they're both viable alternatives with their own strengths, rather than any one being definitively better.

But the Marcoh side of things is absolutely awful. OG actually engaged with the horror implied by Marcoh being so desperate not to return. Marcoh was fully integrated into the narrative, not just a convenient plot device to be stumbled across. It took its own premise seriously. Brotherhood did not.

What I take away from this is that Brotherhood is perfectly capable of making a good breather episode when it wants to, and is maybe even better at it than OG, but it doesn’t understand how to do serious plots at all. It's really a shame it doesn't seem to understand where its strengths lie, and keeps rushing through the breather sections to spend more time on action. It's honestly kind of sad, like it doesn't trust its audience to stick with it through slow bits. Although, given that's the most common complaint about OG, perhaps it's justified.

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma 2003 #liveblog

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fuzzhugs · 6 years ago

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Broken Wings - Redwall/FMA Crossover - by Fuzzhugs

Welcome to Part 1 of my Redwall + Fullmetal Alchemist crossover.

Special thanks to @thegoldensoundtwice for inspiring to actually write all of this down and to @theredwallrecorder for editing assistance.

If anyone prefers reading in a GoogleDoc format, follow the link here.

Part 1 - Ingredients

Beastkind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange. In those days, I really believed that to be the world's one, and only truth.

Water, 35 liters.

Martin obsessively checked his notes and calculations. His haggard appearance and frenzied behavior showed the result of days without sleep.

Carbon, 20 kilograms.

The walls of his spacious yet decrepit shack were covered with hundreds of pages. Renderings of transmutation circles intersected and covered each other. Pages torn from books were pinned to the wall alongside his own handwritten notes. Strings stretched between walls, connecting one set of information to another.

Ammonia, 4 liters.

The shack had not been Martin’s first choice of a laboratory, but the Noonvale mice had told him if he planned to continue with his blasphemous experiments, he would have to do it elsewhere. More than happy to be rid of him, the mice helped him build the shack a league away from their sanctuary.

Calcium-lime, 1.5 kilograms.

Martin had reappeared at Noonvale several seasons after the Battle of Marshank, begging to be taught their ways. Chief Voh had been reluctant to give one so emotionally unhinged further power to manipulate the world, but Brome had persuaded him that learning healing arts would be a way to help Martin.

Phosphorus, 800 grams.

His thirst for knowledge did not remain confined to the alchemic healing practice they called Alkahestry. He poured over texts for days at a time, rarely stopping to eat or sleep. His first experiments delving into the nature of life and death had dire consequences for the Alkahestry library. Martin’s attempt to resurrect a deceased fish resulted in an alchemic backlash blasting several of the main support beams to splinters. Martin himself was only mildly injured from the explosion.

Salt, 250 grams.

While Martin was recuperating from his injuries, Chief Voh took a closer look at the notes he had been keeping and learned the true depths of Martin’s desire. When Martin was well enough to walk again, he was cast out of the central village and told to settle farther away from the main settlement, hence the shack.

Saltpeter, 100 grams.

Brome had ceased visiting several fortnights ago, tired of trying to convince Martin to give up on his impossible ambitions. The arguments between the two mice had grown heated, escalating almost to the point of violence.

Sulfur, 80 grams.

He had spent ages collecting all of the ingredients. He had managed to convince Brome to bring him some from Noonvale’s stores, but the rest he had to find himself, either through wandering the countryside or bartering with traveling merchants. The only thing that mattered was his work. Everything else could wait. His father’s sword was leaning against the wall, long neglected and seldom used.

Fluorine, 7.5 grams.

Every component had been carefully measured and weighed according to the exact specifications Martin had written out. They had been stored in jars and locked in a chest until he was ready to use them.

Iron, 5 grams.

The mix of elements now freely blended together in the metal basin he had placed in the center of his shack. Retrieving a piece of chalk, he began to draw out his own variant of a Beastfolk Transmutation Circle. The complex design branched across the room like a spider’s web. Circles, triangles, and hexagons merged and split with each other. Bizarre, arcane runes filled the empty spaces.

Silicon, 3 grams.

Everything he had spent seasons planning for would finally come to fruition.

Trace amounts of 15 other elements.

He would have her back again. His greatest mistake would be undone.

Blood, as a bridge for the soul to cross.

Martin pulled out a knife and slashed the blade across his paw, letting the crimson rain fall onto the mix of powder and liquid. The blood would link the transmutation target to him, pulling Rose’s soul back from the place beyond life.

He knelt down at the edge of his circle and calmed his mind. Reaching out, he could feel the energy that flowed beneath the earth rising to his will, powering his alchemic formula. Slamming his paws onto the circle, he released the energy in one large burst.

The chalk-lines began to glow as the transmutation started. An eerie red light filled the room as shadows began to leak out from the circle. The shadows formed into tendrils, ending with small, grasping claws. In the center of the circle, a crack appeared and opened to reveal the form of a gigantic eye. Something was very wrong.

The tendrils shot across the room and clung to him, pulling him toward the circle. Martin struggled to remain outside the boundary. As he fought, a brilliant burst of white light filled the room.

Martin was standing in an endless white void. There was no wind, no sound, no horizon. Behind him, a massive stone door carved with alchemic symbols floated above the featureless ground. Ahead of him, a figure sat crouched on the floor, surrounded by a black haze. Like Martin’s surroundings, it was featureless, save for the prominent grin plastered to its face.

“Where is she!?” Martin demanded, too determined to be awed by the strange place.

The figure continued to grin and tilted its head to the side.

“I don’t know who you are, but tell me where she-”

“The world.”

Martin fell silent, unprepared to hear several voices at once come from the figure’s mouth. “What did you-?”

“I am the existence that you call ‘the world’. In other words, the universe. In other words, truth. In other words, all. In other words, one.” The figure paused for a moment. “I am also you. Welcome.”

The stone door behind Martin burst open and the black tendrils reached out to pull him in. Fighting against their grasp, Martin tried to force his way toward the figure, managing to take several steps forward, but never gaining any ground.

“You are a determined one, aren’t you?” The figure grinned as the tendrils pulled Martin into the darkness of the void behind the door. “Most of those who get here are just screaming at this point.”

The stone door slammed shut and Martin fell away through darkness. Bright lights began rushing by him as everything he had seen and would see, known and would know flew through his head, too fast to understand and too fast to contain. His head felt like it would burst open. Before his eyes, his body began to fall apart. Then he realized what he was seeing was truth. Pure, unadulterated, universal truth.

In an instant, he was back in the white space. The figure was still there with its ominous grin. “How was it?”

Martin turned to look at the door. So many new ideas filled his mind. He knew where he had gone wrong, he just needed something more. “Show it to me again. I need to see it all again.”

“No, no, no. You only get that much for the toll you’ve paid.”

“Toll?”

As if on cue, tendrils lashed out and grabbed his face. A burning pain seared through Martin’s mind and he fell to the floor, screaming. The figure knelt over him, still grinning.

“Now, if someone is dumb enough to come and meet me, I usually end up taking their arms, or their legs, or their sight. They can see plainly what my services have cost them and I don’t need to tell them what price they’ve paid. You, little alchemist, you’re a special case. You wanted your only love back, right? Well, I’ve taken that from you now. Every feeling of love is being erased from your mind. Oh, your memories will stay intact, but that delectable flavor you call love is no longer yours. You cannot remember love and you cannot feel love, but I am not without mercy. I’ve left a little speck of it in there just for you, enough of it for you to remember what you’re missing. I have also generously thrown in another gift. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Equivalent exchange, is it not?”

The real world rushed back in an instant and Martin found himself on the floor of his shack, screaming and clutching his head. Pain blocked out most of his immediate memories, and the next thing he was aware of was waking up in a bed in the Noonvale Infirmary. Brome was looking down at him, scowling.

“Brome,” Martin gasped as he came to his senses. “I know what I need to do. I just need…”

“You need to leave,” Brome commanded without an ounce of pity in his voice. “Can you walk?”

Martin stood up and walked with Brome, thinking only of his work. “The transmutation…”

“Whatever that thing was that you made was not natural. It didn’t live long, in any case. We’ve already buried it.”

The two mice arrived at the outskirts of Noonvale. “Brome, I need to-”

“Whatever you need, you’ll have to find it far from here. Bringing you here was the last kindness we will do for you. You will receive no more help here. If we find you within a day’s walk of Noonvale, you will be forced out. Now go, Martin.”

“If you just let me-”

Without a word, Brome slammed his gauntlet-clad fist into the ground. Martin caught a brief glimpse of the transmutation circle etched upon it before earthen spikes shot up out of the ground, stopping a hair’s-breadth from his face.

“Out, Martin. Don’t come back.”

Martin turned and left without another word. There was no sense of loss accompanying his forced departure. The brotherly affection he had once had for Brome was gone, utterly absent. There was nothing left attaching him to Brome, so there was nothing lost for him to mourn.

“Yes…yes. I had the right idea,” Martin said to himself as he walked without a particular direction in mind. “The right idea, but the wrong power source.”

He thought of one of the few comprehensible things his brush with truth had given him: the alchemic theory known as the Philosopher’s Stone. “Yes, a Stone. Infinite power. Anything should be possible with that. A Stone can bring her back, and all the others too. Felldoh, Gramma, Mum. ” In his excitement, Martin clapped his paws together. He felt a rush of power and watched as a perfect reproduction of Rose built itself out of the dirt.

“Interesting,” he commented to himself. “My arms form the circle, my thoughts form the array.

Looking at the statue, he could feel he was missing something inside. He knew he should have felt something, responded in some way, but there was only emptiness. The emptiness angered him.

“Dammit,” Martin cursed. “You may have taken my love from me, truth, but don’t expect to hold onto it for too long. Once I have the stone, nothing can stop me from taking it back.”

Walking a little further, Martin experimented with his newfound ability, transmuting rocks and trees with little more than a clap and a mental picture of what he wanted to happen. “You were right though, truth. I do enjoy this gift.”

Stopping by his now partially-destroyed shack, Martin collected some of his notes that he felt would come in handy. As he prepared to leave, a spur of the moment decision prompted him to take his father’s sword with him. Shouldering the blade, he left his shack and began his trek southward. Alchemy and Alkahestry had come from the south. He would find answers in the south.

End Part 1

#redwall #redwall fanfiction #martin the warrior #redwall fma #broken wings

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veryangryhedgehog · 6 years ago

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“A Late Night at St. Adelaide’s”, an Ede Valley story by Hedgehog.

“What are we doing?”

“Clearly we’re digging up a body.”

“Well, duh. I know that. But what are we doing?”

“I just tol—”

“Shut up, Gil.”

Doug leaned on his shovel and shook his head at the pathetically small hole he and Gil had managed to dig. It was only February; the ground was frozen. So why were they out here at 1 o’clock in the morning trying to dig through it?

“I found another shovel!” Victor shouted triumphantly, panting as he jogged towards them. With his long, dark coat he looked even more like a bear than usual. A very nervous bear. “T-thank you both so much,” he managed to stutter. “I know it’s the middle of the night and everything, but it was really urgent, and I didn’t know who else to ask.”

“What is the big rush?” Doug asked. “You haven’t told us yet.”

“Well, uh... uh,” Victor ducked his head sheepishly. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Gil frowned now too. “Come, artificer, spit it out.”

Looking down, Victor started digging. “See, the thing is, um, Abby was really interested in seeing what I was working on, so I wanted to make a demonstration.”

“And thus you needed new parts,” Gil nodded.

“Exactly!”

The two of them glanced over to Doug, who merely sighed. He had known all along that Abigail Hodge was no good, especially not for Victor, but it was far too late now. What’s done is done, and if Victor was willing to risk the fire, then so be it. Victor wrung his hands nervously as he waited for Doug’s response. After a disapproving glare, he shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

“Alright,” he said, “let’s dig up a body.”

It was hard work, digging through the frozen ground. But with the three of them working together, they somehow managed to make headway. Doug could see his breath in the air, but he didn’t feel the cold. Only his nose was slightly frozen, no doubt as red as a certain reindeer. What really bugged him was the quiet. He couldn’t stand silence. And in the graveyard in the middle of the night, the Potter’s Field, no less? Oh yeah, it was pretty quiet.

“Quick question,” he asked, turning to Gil. “What the hell is an artificer?”

Gil opened his mouth, but it was Victor who answered. “Only the coolest class in Dungeons and Dragons! Basically, an artificer’s job in the party is—”

“Okay, okay, give me the cliff notes, dorkasaurus.”

“Oh, sorry,” Victor apologized. “Um, so they basically combine science and magic together.”

“So is this where you get all of this wizard bullcrap?” Doug turned to Gil. “Dungeons and Dragons?”

Pausing his shoveling, Gil’s mismatched eyes narrowed. “Nonsense,” he insisted. “I’d known those words for thousands of year before that admittingly amusing game was invented.”

“Dude, you’re seventeen,” Doug grunted, his back beginning to ache from all the hard digging.

Gil shrugged. “This form may be, perhaps.”

Doug waited. But of course he didn’t elaborate. “What the hell’s that supposed to—?” He began, but broke off as Victor’s shovel hit something with a loud thump. The three boys paused, almost unsure of what to do, before Victor fumbled with gloved hands for his flashlight.

As the light shone down into the hold, Doug pushed aside some of the remaining debris to reveal a plain, pine box.

“There!” Victor exclaimed. “Here, help me move it.”

“Don’t’cha need to look and see if it’s all, you know, intact?” Doug hesitated. Part of him still couldn’t’ believe he was doing this.

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Victor shook his head. “I only need some of the parts anyway.”

Together, the three of them lifted the pine box out of the ground, Doug cursing as he received a splinter for his troubles.

“Good,” he grunted. “Then let’s get back. I don’t have much time.”

“What could you possibly mean?” Gil asked.

“Uh, nothing,” Doug recovered. “Just that in about five minutes I’m gonna freeze my ass off.”

And as they began the journey back to St. Adelaide’s, the box hoisted on their shoulders like some lop-sided funeral procession, Doug tried to ignore the ominous vibrations that had begun to emanate from the band on his wrist.

~~ o ~~

Jilli didn’t know what she was doing. It was eleven o’clock at night and she was currently sitting in the library, nursing a cup of chamomile tea while Mike was doing “research”. Research on what, she didn’t know. “It’s for, uh, a project,” he’d said after he’d knocked on her door a half-an-hour ago.

“And you have to go now?” She asked, robe slightly askew.

“Well, I just finished my homework now,” he asserted, “and it’s kind of urgent.”

“I thought you said this little trip was for homework.”

“It is!” he gulped. “Uh, different homework.”

He was a terrible liar. She sighed, shaking her head. “Why don’t you just ask Doug? He never sleeps anyway.”

“He’s... playing Garfield Kart,” Mike admitted. “You don’t bug Doug when he’s playing Garfield Kart.”

Jilli opened her mouth to ask him what he was really up to, but closed it again. She was curious, but there was something about the kid’s innocent, puppy dog eyes that made her stop. The moment of truth came when he implied that he was too scared of Abigail to go alone, so she finally agreed to go along with him.

“You know she doesn’t sleep in there, right?”

Of course, Jilli had to eat her words as she opened the doors to the Blackwood Library to find the dim lights still flickering and Abigail balancing a stack of books as tall as she was in her arms.

“Oh hello Jilli, Mike,” she beamed, dropping the books with a dusty plop. “You’re here awfully late.”

Jilli made a face. “I was just about to settle down for some Netflix and chill... by myself.” God, that was depressing. “But this one has to do some last minute research for—”

“—A report,” Mike finished for her. Funny, five minutes ago it had been a project.

“A report?” Abigail brightened immediately. “People mostly use the internet nowadays. Would you like some help?”

“No! No, uh,” Mike said, a little hastily. “Could you just... point me to the history section?”

As Abigail interrogated Mike further on exactly what kind of history he was looking for—“There’s an awful lot of it, you know!”—Jilli settled down at a mahogany table with the tea she’d brought from her room. Technically food and drinks weren’t allowed in the library, but Abigail usually let the rule slide if it could get people to go to the library at all.

Eventually, after Mike insisted several times that he had found what he was looking for, the student librarian joined Jilli. “So, what have you been reading lately?” Jilli asked.

“I’ve been reading a lot about alternate biology.” Abigail replied, as if this would mean anything to Jilli at all.

“Alternate biology?” she asked finally, once she realized no illumination would be provided.

“Oh yes,” Abigail’s head nodded like a bobblehead. “Biology in a more... mystical, or maybe occult sense of the word. Eastern alchemy, occultism, things like that. Victor’s been having some trouble with his experiments, so I’m trying to help if I can.”

Jilli had to admit that she was impressed. Maybe even a little jealous. Not of Victor, or course, he wasn’t even remotely her type, but more so of the idea that Abigail of all people could find someone, and Jilli was still alone. Don’t get her wrong, she was definitely happy for Abby, but still... Yet, she supposed that’s just how life worked out sometimes.

“So you two are really serious, huh?”

“We’re... getting there,” Abigail blushed.

Of course, Jilli knew immediately what she meant. Abby and Victor were both incredibly awkward people. The fact that they’d gotten this far at all was shocking in itself. “Well, good for you.” Jilli nodded.

“Oh, but his project is fascinating,” Abigail’s eyes grew owl-like behind her glasses. “It’s very difficult to explain, but the way he’s combining mechanical parts and organic matter is incredible. The construction is perfect. The only problem is he isn’t sure how to get it to actually function.”

“What do you mean?” This was all starting to sound a little like science fiction to Jilli.

Abigail opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “That essential human... something. I don’t want to call it a soul, because no one’s really sure what actually makes us function. Does that make any sense at all?”

“Sure,” Jilli said. She had learned that this was the best thing to do with Abigail sometimes.

“Oh, sometimes I wish that there weren’t any adults here,” Abigail sighed. “That would make everything easier. Then Victor wouldn’t have to work in secret. They don’t understand, of course. I wonder to myself occasionally what would happen if someone just... kicked them out, you know?”

Jilli would admit that yes, she had humored the thought, though she didn’t see how much good it would do her. She’d still be stuck here regardless. It wasn’t as if just getting rid of all the adults could net her a ticket back to Japan. Unless she could gain access to her bank account again. This was assuming, of course, that her mother hadn’t spent it all.

But before that train of thought got any farther, Mike sheepishly approached the table with a few heavy books clutched in his scrawny arms. Jilli thought she could make out the title: “The History of St. Adelaide’s” on one of the spines. That was weird, what would Mike want with that book?

“Uh, I’ve got what I need,” Mike mumbled, “Do I need to check these out?”

Nodding, Abigail led him over to her desk, while Jilli made ready to leave. Taking over the school, what a silly thought. She’d have to put it in the back of her mind for a daydream sometime.

~~ o ~~

Sonia dreamt of strange seas. The sky was pitch black around her, and there was not a star to be seen. Even the water below her was dark and cold, the waves silently journeying to distant shores. She floated above it all, not herself, or material in any way, merely an observer, as is often the case in dreams.

Below her, the water began to glow with a strange, white light. It wasn’t a reflection, as there was nothing but darkness above the waves. No, it came from deep within the depths. Dim, and distant they were at first, before growing and becoming more numerous. Whole towers of light, their very tops glowing blue and purple, came into view. It seemed as if there was a while city beneath the waves.

Sonia, who now found herself in possession of a hand, reached down towards the water. The lights beckoned and as she drew closer, a chorus of whispers joined it. It was calling to her, pulling her. Where had she seen it before? The name was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t remember. Her mind was missing.

Below, the voices had begun to organize themselves into a melody, a tune that seemed to fill her whole being. She was so close, her hand a few inches from touching the black abyss below. If she could reach the lights, she would remember, she was sure of it.

She woke with her hand stretching towards the sky and tears running down her face. They ran down her cheekbones as she blinked and remembered where she was: her room, St. Adelaide’s, so far away from her home in Russia.

“Get a good education,” her mother had instructed. “Find honest work, not like your uncles.”

She didn’t know about the dreams, and how they had only gotten worse after coming here. It was always the same: the pitch dark water, the lights, the singing. And it always ended just before she touched the water.

Sitting up, Sonia glanced over to her alarm clock: 1AM. Nowhere near morning. She’s have to try and fall asleep again. But before she flopped back down again, something made her pause: singing. The same singing from her dream. She glanced to and fro, trying to find the source of the noise. And then her eyes came to rest on the window.

That glow, that eerie, pale light wasn’t from the courtyard outside, but form inside the room. It seemed to follow her everywhere, always in the corner of her eye. And there was something in it, some kind of thing, or person, but as much as she squinted and strained, Sonia could never make it out.

And now it was humming that strange, sad song. Or, at least it had been, before it seemed to notice her staring at it and cut off.

The two stared each other down, goosebumps all up Sonia’s arms. Then her heart stopped as the glow did something it had never done before: it spoke.

“Uyo aws latnasit.” It was pure gibberish, and Sonia shook her head in confusion. “Uoy od mrebmeer?”

“What are you?” Sonia asked, clutching her comforter to her chest as if it could protect her.

The glow almost seemed to sigh as it dimmed and faded away. “si iemt het onso.”

“Wait!” Sonia made to stand, but the glow was gone, and she deflated back onto the bed. Was she crazy? She must be, it must be a hallucination of some sort. But no one wants to think they’re crazy. Maybe Gil was right, maybe she was being contacted by spirits.

But right now, that didn’t matter. One thing was clear: Sonia wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon. It was going to be one late night.

#Ede Valley #Doug Bailey #Jilli Nakajima #Sonia Valentina Borozovna #Victor West #Abigail Hodge #Mike Miller #Gil Trenton #Backwards

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softheartedstories · 4 years ago

Text

Snow day

I’ve known loss. I’ve known grief. I wasn’t angry with Death for taking you. I think, in the end, its what you wanted. I was angry at the forgetting, I hated the forgetting.

Your mind was an encyclopedia. The library of Alexandria. I watched as it was looted, robbed, ruined, and it only took a few years. I stood still as it burned down. I would look at you and I would see you, so afraid, just afraid of forgetting, and tired of living, but scared of dying.

I snapped at you all the time.

But I’m learning that life is just people trying to do their best, with what they have, right then and there. And that’s okay.

I could’ve done better, I thought I had more time. I have a lot of things I wish I’d done better, but I don’t have the chance to change things.

But I can give you this.

And that would bring me comfort, to know that somewhere out there, someone remembers.

I want people to remember George Leslie and laugh.

I want them to remember how silly he was, how down right fucking hilarious and awful and innappropriate he was, and how smart, how simply fucking brilliant.

He is me. I don’t have to idolise him forever.

And as I am my own person and I have to live my own life, who am I?

I’m not George. I may have some similarities to George in my sense of humour and Leslie chin, but actually I am Mary.

And after having seen his life, heard all the stories about it, what will I do with mine? How could I ever compare to his greatness?

To love.

To family.

To life.

To my Father.

And maybe I could be a writer, maybe I could be a storyteller.

I think I’ve seen enough of life, I think I’ve seen enough of death, and love and hardship, and loss.

I don’t think it matters if you’re lost though, or if you lose, as long as you loved.

And I loved you.

I loved you so much.

And why shouldn’t I tell our stories?

Remember the time we went to that restaurant in Paris with Mummy? The one with the cheese trolley?And the waiters pushed two chairs together so I could fall asleep.

Remember the lake with the catfish? The one where we'd throw all the meat and the bones and the sauces into the water and the catfish gobbled it up? I remember.

I am blessed because you made everything easy for me.

So I guess I’ll just be a girl, a normal girl, one who tells stories.

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crimsonslytherin · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Be Your Reason - Chapter 5

(First) - (Previous)

Words: 2937

A/N: Please note I used a deleted scene for the beginning of the chapter.

It was spring time and classes had started up again. Final exams were coming up and of course Hermione was studying every chance she got, making sure to invite Fiona to join her whenever possible. The two girls were sitting at the Gryffindor table across from the boys. Harry was looking through a book, per Hermione’s suggestion, but Ron was going through the cards he’d gotten from chocolate frogs. Hedwig landed on a stack of books nearby and squeaked at Harry.

“Hi, Hedwig,” he greeted her while Fiona reached out to give the bird an affectionate stroke. Hermione looked at the owl before looking to Ron.

“Look at you, playing with your cards. Pathetic,” she said to him. “We’ve got final exams coming up soon.”

“How could we forget?” Fiona asked. “You remind us every day,” she teased with a playful smile to the girl. Hermione gave her a only slightly playful look back.

“I’m ready,” Ron insisted. “Ask me any question.” Harry smiled as he looked between the two.

“Alright. What are the three most crucial ingredients in a forgetfulness potion?” she asked. Ron looked at her before looking down.

“I forgot.”

“Fiona,” Hermione said as she turned to her.

“Lethe River Water, mistletoe berries, and Valerian sprigs,” Fiona recited without looking up from her Transfiguration book.

“That’s not exactly fair,” Harry mumbled. “Fiona actually likes Potion’s Class.”

“And what, may I ask, do you plan to do if this comes up in the final exam?” Hermione asked Ron.

“Copy off you!”

“No you won’t!” Hermione countered. “Besides, according to professor McGonagall, we’re to be given special quills bewitched with an anti-cheating spell.”

“That’s insulting!” Ron exclaimed. “It’s as if they don’t trust us!” Harry pretended to be shocked which made Fiona laugh. “Dumbledore again!” Ron threw down the card in his hand. Suddenly the four heard laughter coming from the students by the door. They looked up to see Neville hopping down the aisle. “Leg-locker curse?” Ron guessed.

“Malfoy,” Harry accused. Ron nodded. Neville made his way to the group.

“You have got to start standing up to people, Neville,” Ron told him.

“How? I can barely stand a’tall.” He almost lost his balance but caught himself. Seamus stood up from beside Ron.

“I know the counter curse!”

“No! That’s all I need – You to set my bloody kneecaps on fire!” Neville protested. Seamus slammed his wand down on the table.

“I don’t appreciate your insinuation, Longbottom,” Seamus said with a frown. “Besides, if anyone cares to notice, my eyebrows have completely grown back!” He pointed at them before he turned to leave revealing a bald spot on the back of his head. Hermione and Fiona tried not to smile. Harry suddenly tapped Ron on the arm urgently.

“I found him!” Harry handed the card of Dumbledore to Ron who began to read it aloud.

“-and his work on alchemy with his partner Nicholas Flamel!” Ron finished. Hermione visibly gasped and started to gather her things.

“I knew the name sounded familiar,” Harry said. “I read it on the train that day.”

“Follow me!” Hermione whispered urgently before she got up and began to leave. The boys and Fiona gathered their things and began to follow.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?” Neville called after them. Fiona stopped and ran back to Neville, steadying him as he almost fell over.

“Sorry Neville. Vita ad motum!” She waved her wand and his legs came apart.

“Thank you!” he called after her as she ran to catch up with the others.

__________________________

Ron and Harry sat in the library at a table, while Fiona was across from them working on some homework, waiting for Hermione to come back from getting whatever book she wanted to show them. She came back with a huge book.

“I had you looking in the wrong section. How could I be so stupid?” she thumped the big book down in front of the two boys making the three jump. “I checked this out a few weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”

“This is light?” Ron asked. Hermione glared at him as she opened the book before flipping through the pages. She ran her finger down a page until she found what she was looking for.

“Of course! Here it is! ‘Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!’”

“The what?” The boys asked in unison

“Honestly, don't you two read?”

“Hermione, I doubt they’d pick up a book this big,” Fiona said motioning to the book. Hermione nodded.

“Hey,” Ron said with a frown.

“She has a point, Ron,” Harry said quietly.

“The Philosopher's Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It will turn any metal into pure gold and produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.” Hermione read from the book.

“Immortal?” Ron asked.

“It means you'll never die,” she explained.

“I know what it means!” Ron exclaimed a bit too loudly.

“Shh!” Harry shushed him.

“’The only stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist, who last year celebrated his 665th birthday!’” Hermione read. “That's what Fluffy's guarding on the 3rd floor. That's what's under the trapdoor...the Philosopher's Stone!”

“Why would it be here though? At a school?” Fiona asked.

“Dumbledore wants it safe, right?” Harry asked. “Having it here means having it close to him so he can keep an eye on it.”

“He’s not doing a very good job then if Snape’s trying to get it,” Ron said.

…

That night, Hermione, Fiona, Ron and Harry ran across the wet grounds to Hagrid’s hut. They knocked on the door and a moment later Hagrid opened it.

“Hagrid!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, hello,” Hagrid said. He was wearing oven mitts and an apron. “Sorry, don't wish to be rude, but I'm in no fit state to entertain today,” he apologized before going to close the door.

“We know about the Philosopher's Stone!” The four shouted in unison. Hagrid opened the door again.

“Oh.” He opened the door and motioned them inside. The four followed him in, taking off their cloaks and sitting around the hut. Hermione and Fiona sat in a giant chair while Ron and Harry sat beside Hagrid’s black boarhound Fang.

“We think Snape's trying to steal it,” Harry said.

“Snape? Blimey, Harry, you're not still on about him, are you?” Hagrid asked.

“Hagrid, we know he's after the Stone. We just don't know why.”

“Snape is one of the teachers protecting the Stone! He's not about to steal it!” Hagrid protested.

“What?”

“You heard. Right. Come on, now, I'm a bit preoccupied today,” Hagrid said.

“Wait a minute,” Harry said. “One of the teachers?” he asked.

“Of course! There are other things defending the Stone, aren't there? Spells, enchantments,” Hermione guessed.

“That's right. Waste of bloody time, if you ask me,” Hagrid said. Hermione looked at Ron, who was being sniffed in the face by Fang. Ron shuffled away. “Ain't no one gonna get past Fluffy. Hehe, not a soul knows how. Except for me and Dumbledore. I shouldn't have told you that. I shouldn't have told you that.” A cauldron over a fire began to rattle. “Oh!” Hagrid hurried over and grabbed something. “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” He put the thing, an egg, on the table. The group crowded around it.

“Uh, Hagrid, what exactly is that?” Harry asked.

“That? It's a ... it’s um…”

“I know what that is! But Hagrid, how did you get one?” Ron asked.

“I won it. Off a stranger I met down at a pub. Seemed quite glad to be rid of it, as a matter of fact.” Hagrid said.

“You won this?” Fiona asked. Hagrid nodded. The egg rattled and cracked. Pieces flew off as a baby dragon emerged. It squeaked and slipped on an egg piece. “Awe! It’s so cute!” Fiona said. Ron and Harry looked at her with wide eyes.

“Is that...a dragon?” Hermione asked.

“That's not just a dragon. That's a Norwegian Ridgeback! My brother Charlie works with these in Romania.”

“Isn't he beautiful?” Hagrid asked. “Oh. Bless him, look. He knows his mummy. Hehe. Hallo, Norbert.” The dragon squeaked as it looked at Hagrid.

“Norbert?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, well, he's got to have a name, doesn't he?” Hagrid asked. Ron chuckled. “Don't you, Norbert?”

“I like it,” Fiona said with a nod. Hagrid raised his fingers back and forth across Norbert’s chin.

“Dededede.” Norbert backed away, hiccupped and blew a fireball of fire into Hagrid's beard. Hagrid quickly patted the fire out. “Ohh! Oooh, ooh, ooh, well...he'll have to be trained up a bit, of course.” Norbert hiccupped again. Hagrid saw someone looking in the window. “Who's that?” The four turned to see Draco, who scampered away when he saw he’d been seen.

“Malfoy,” Harry said.

“Oh, dear,” Hagrid said.

…

The four were walking back through a corridor.

“Hagrid always wanted a dragon,” Harry said. “He told me so the first time I met him.”

“It's crazy. And worse, Malfoy knows,” Ron said.

“I don't understand. Is that bad?” Harry asked.

“It's bad,” Ron said. They stopped as McGonagall, in her nightgown and robe, appeared.

“Good evening,” she said. Malfoy appeared smugly beside her.

She brought the group into her classroom. The four accused stood in front of McGonagall's desk, while Malfoy was feet away, smirking.

“Nothing, I repeat, nothing gives a student the right to walk about the school at night. Therefore, as punishment for your actions, 50 points will be taken.”

“50?!” Harry exclaimed.

“Each. And to ensure it doesn't happen again, all five of you will receive detention.” Malfoy nodded, then his smile vanished as he realized what she’d said. He stepped closer.

“Excuse me, Professor. Perhaps I heard you wrong. I thought you said...’the five of us,’”Draco said.

“No, you heard me correctly, Mr. Malfoy. You see, as honorable as your intentions were, you too were out of bed after hours. You will join your classmates in detention.” The four Gryffindors grinned as Draco sagged.

…

The next night for detention the five students were led to Hagrid’s hut by Filch.

“A pity they let the old punishments die. There was a time detention would find you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons. God, I miss the screaming,” Filch said. Draco gulped. “You'll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight. He's got a little job to do inside the dark forest.” Hagrid appeared out of his hut with a crossbow. He sniffled. “A sorry lot this, Hagrid. Oh, good God, man, you're not still on about that bloody dragon, are you?” Hagrid sniffed and sighed.

“Norbert's gone. Dumbledore sent him off to Romania to live in a colony.”

“Well, that's good, isn't it? He'll be with his own kind,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, but what if he don't like Romania?” Hagrid asked. Filch rolled his eyes. “What if the other dragons are mean to him? He's only a baby, after all.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, pull yourself together, man. You're going into the forest, after all. Got to have your wits about you,” Filch said.

“The forest?” Draco asked. “I thought that was a joke! We can't go in there. Students aren't allowed. And there are...” There was a howl. “...werewolves!”

“There's more than werewolves in those trees, lad. You can be sure of that.” Draco looked frightened. “Nighty-night,” he said before leaving.

“Do you see a full moon?” Fiona asked turning to Draco who quickly masked his fear.

“Full enough,” he muttered.

“You got us into this,” Fiona hissed.

“I-…” Draco frowned and let out a sigh.

“Right. Let's go,” Hagrid said before leading the group into the forest.

…

Only a few minutes into their walk Hagrid stopped, bent down and dipped his fingers in a silver puddle. He pulled his fingers out and rubbed them together. A silver trail smeared with his fingers.

“Hagrid, what's that?” Harry asked.

“What we're here for. See that? That's unicorn's blood, that is. I found one dead a few weeks ago. Now, this one's been injured bad by something.” Harry looked around before looking at Hagrid. “So, it's our job to find the poor beast. Ron, Hermione, you'll come with me.”

“Okay,” Ron said weakly.

“And Harry and Fiona, you'll go with Malfoy.” Draco grimaced, and Harry and Fiona nodded.

“Okay. Then I get Fang!” Draco demanded.

“Fine. Just so you know, he's a bloody coward,” Hagrid said. Fang whined making the three look at him.

…

The three walked through the forest, Fang beside them and Draco holding up the lamp. Harry and Fiona held hands.

“You wait till my father hears about this. This is servant's stuff,” Draco said.

“If I didn't know better, Draco, I'd say you were scared,” Harry accused.

“Scared, Potter?!” Draco scoffed. There was a sudden howl. “Did you hear that? Come on, Fang… Scared.” He shook his head before looking at Fiona. “Are you scared?”

“Hardly,” she said but Harry could feel her hand shaking in his. He gave it a slight squeeze and she smiled at him.

“I’ll protect you,” Draco said with a smirk making both Harry and Fiona roll their eyes.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she mumbled making Harry snicker.

The group approached a flat ground with gnarled roots all over. Fang stopped then started to growl.

“What is it, Fang?” Harry asked. Up ahead, a cloaked figure was crouched over a dead unicorn, drinking its blood. The figure raised its head, silver blood dripping from its mouth. Harry gasped and grabbed his scar, which was hurting.

“Harry?” Fiona asked. Draco suddenly screamed and ran, Fang following. “Malfoy you git!” she screamed after his retreating figure.

“HELP!!!” he was screaming. Harry and Fiona turned back to the figure as it slid over the unicorn and rose until it was standing. It advanced towards the two, who backed up. Fiona moved in front of Harry. The two tripped backwards and crawled backwards, Harry pulling Fiona with him and putting his arms around her. She ducked her head let out a scream. Suddenly, there was the sound of hoof beats. A figure leaped over the two and landed near the cloaked figure. It was a silver centaur, Frienze. He reared, and the cloaked figure retreated, gliding away. Harry and Fiona stood, each looking each other over for injuries before facing their savior, standing close to each other and still holding onto each other’s arms.

“Harry Potter, you two must leave. You are known to many creatures here. The forest is not safe at this time. Especially for you,” The centaur warned.

“But what was that thing you saved us from?” Harry asked.

“A monstrous creature. It is a terrible crime to slay a unicorn. Drinking the blood of a unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death. But at a terrible price. You have slain something so pure that the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have a half-life. A cursed life.”

“But who would choose such a life?”

“Can you think of no one?”

“Do you mean to say...that that thing that killed the unicorn...that was drinking its blood...that was Voldemort?”

“Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?” Firenze asked as he leaned down to speak quieter to them. Harry’s eyes widened.

“The Philosopher's Stone,” Harry whispered. Suddenly, Fang barked. Harry and Fiona looked up and saw Hagrid, Hermione, Ron and Draco appear a few yards away.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Fiona!” Ron exclaimed at the same time.

“Hello there, Firenze,” Hagrid said. “I see you've met our young Mr. Potter and Miss Gaunt. You all right there, you two?” The two nodded.

“Harry Potter, this is where I leave you. You're safe now. Good luck,” Firenze said before leaving. The two joined the others.

“What was that you said about protecting me?” Fiona asked as she glared at Draco who immediately grimaced and gave her a sheepish look.

“Come on, let’s get you five back to the castle,” Hagrid said. “It’s not right being out here,” he said before leading them back.

“Gaunt,” Draco whispered but Fiona ignored him. “Fiona, I... I-I panicked.” She continued to ignore him and saw Harry roll his eyes beside her. “You understand… you saw that thing-” Harry put an arm around Fiona’s shoulders before she did the same to him.

…

Once the group had returned to the castle the Gyrffindors went to their common room while Draco was left to return to his on his own. The Gyrffindor group sat around the fire. Hermione sat in a chair near where Harry was standing while Ron and Fiona sat on the couch.

“You mean, You-Know-Who's out there, right now, in the forest?” Hermione asked.

“But he's weak. He's living off the unicorns. Don't you see? We had it wrong. Snape doesn't want the stone for himself, he wants the stone for Voldemort. With the Elixir of Life, Voldemort will be strong again. He'll… He'll come back,” Harry said before sitting down in the other chair.

“But if he comes back, you don't think he'll try to kill you, do you?” Ron asked.

“I think if he'd had the chance, he might have tried to kill me tonight,” Harry said. Ron gulped.

“And to think, I've been worrying about my Potions final!”

“Hang on a minute. We're forgetting one thing. Who's the one wizard Voldemort always feared?” Hermione asked. “Dumbledore! As long as Dumbledore's around, you're safe. As long as Dumbledore's around, you can't be touched.” Harry smiled slightly.

__________________________

(Next Chapter)

A/N: So there is no known incantation to the reversal/ counterspell of Locomotor Mortis (Leg-Locking Spell/Curse) so since Locomotor ("of or relating to locomotion”) Mortis (“death”) roughly means “death to locomotion” I figured the counterspell would be something similar so I’ve made it “vita ad motum” or “Life to the Motion”

#Harry Potter FanFiction #Draco Malfoy x OC #Movie & Book Canon #Slight Canon Divergence #I'll Be Your Reason

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ynadoesstuff-abandoned · 7 years ago

Photo

Yay a sheet. sorry if its hard to read but there’s info under the cut

(If this updated, it might be best if you skim through this) Razfarrens

Basics Name Origin: Combo of a Israelin name meaning secret/mystery, Raz and an english name meaning wanderer, Farren

Age: 0-369

Height:

Child- 1"5 ~ 3"9

Teen- 3"10-4"

Adult: 4"-6"

Weight:

Child: 1-6 Ibs

Teens: 7-45 ibs

Adult: 46-100 ibs

Gems

Creating Gems

Razfarren gems are made of gemstones as a base

During the actual creation of the gem, what they do is they carve one the gemstones to a oval shape. Then they infuse it with a different form of water of life alchemy. instead of the normal stuff they infuse the water with proteas. a flower that actually means change and transformation.

During the process they are using different form of razfarren spells to actually make the process work and the objects bond.

The gem color is purely based on the personality of the razfarren, *I.e a yellow gem means the Razfarren is either a very cheerful Razfarren or a dangerous one.*

Secondary Gems

Razfarren with more that one gem isn't very common, if they do have more than on gem it is for one or more of these reasons:

to strengthen himself physically or magic-wise To help them heal faster or just help their health in general To disguise something (i.e make their wings look like broken pixie wings. This magic actually makes the wings act like it is broken, you wouldn't be able to feel the actual wings.). to purposefully weaken their magic. When someone uses the secondary gems, for razfarrens- this is especially apparent when disguising something- the process of the gem taking effect is basically like tearing your own body apart and rebuilding it they way the gem is having it set. Course this magic does have its limits, either way it is very painful.

Eyes

The eye color of a razfarren is related to their gem, if they don't have a gem yet then their eyes and naturally a light blue or bluish grey. This is mainly based around the idea of eyes being "the gateway to one's soul" or similar. Which is what the gems are. If a razfarren experience something that is very traumatic, their eyes reflect upon that. It goes completely black with a colored pupil- the color being their gem color. However secondary gems can hide this, if another traumatic experience occurs after disguising the eye, their eye does not change.

Fur and Fates

Razfarren Children generally start of as either a white or grey, this will last until they first receive their gem, after that their fur color will change based on their most likely fate. Ei someone with purple fur may be someone who will be rich or lust/love stricken greatly.

Common to rarest

Blue

green

light purple

violet

pink

orange

red

dark reds

yellow

brown grey

black

white

When talking about knowing a Razfarren's fate.. they..don't really know, not completely at least. They can get a basic guess or reference to what their fate MOST LIKELY will be like based on the color of their fur.

However, a few days after getting their gem, the Razfarren will get a dream that shows events that will happen, but whether or not it will be important to the Razfarren will vary.

Sometimes the visions can literally just be them talking to a soon to be friend. Or it could be a life changing moment (them seeing that is very rare)

Wings

Their wings normally start of as small buds or orbs. When they get their gems their wings form into one of 5 types of wings:

(common) pixie- the most common form of wings, the wings become a lighter shade of the Razfarren’s fur. Females have round edged wings while males have pointed ones.

(uncommon) bird- uncommon type but the type of wings you get depends on your personality (for a better reference look up bird meanings)

(rare) angel or demon- a rare one but if someone gets the angel wings they are looked up upon and they are known for being pure- and even gullible. If they have demon wings they are actually looked down upon because these Razfarrens are known for being surrounded in bad omens.

(very rare) multi wing- very rare type, this means it has one of two different wings. I.e one angel wings and one demon wing. Razfarrens with this kind of wings are known for most likely having a double sided personality or even schizophrenia. Can be trusted but more often than not people become cautious around these types.

(legendary) any other type- any other type of wings other than the ones stated is unheard of.

Skills and Weaknesses Skills Flying (generally almost all razfarrens are good at flying after practice.) Good Runners and Climbers Able to Handle rough terrain bare-footed Generally good hearing, sight, and taste. Flexible Arms are able to stretch out (like it can stretch to the edge of a bedroom)

Weaknesses Unable to handle very hot/cold weather (like deserts or tundras) Wings are somewhat fragile, if severely damaged, it takes years (at most 100) to restore them. Cant smell for crap unless it's a strong smell Cant swim (cats amirite)

Extras Evolution/origin How they came to be hasn't been 100% figured out. Some say they came from cats mutated with magic. Others just say they aren't related to any earth(our earth) animal but just evolved from their own chain of creatures Common fear among species The Razfarrens generally learned to fear the Evil queen, stories and legends say she will return, and that she haunts the castle that Marcel killed her in. That or she has her spirit locked up in a journal within the castle. Helpful stuff for razfarren creation

www.color-meanings.com/

lindaursin.net/library/welcome…

www.theflowerexpert.com/conten…

#species #razfarrens #species info #species sheet #art #drawings #refrences #info #information

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