#Not the strongest argument but there is that one random immortal who shows up on the same ship as Hob and name drops Morpheus specifically

[looseinthecatroom]

One small addition to the meta, if I could OP? Show!Hob also has the fact that the sleeping sickness ended within days of his stranger returning.

Show!Hob has a much better chance then Comics!Hob of getting to learn about, or guessing at Dreams imprisonment given the missed 1989 meeting. Hob to might concede that one potential option was that Dream couldn’t make the date (or of course, Dream might actively sharing that fact as a courtesy/explanation. Though obviously, we can’t assume that, as we saw no part of their meeting past the very start).

Sandman Meta: Hob has exactly zero way of figuring out who Dream is (before they reunite)

More than once in a fic I've written from Hob's POV I've had readers note their astonishment that Hob has not yet figured out Dream's identity, even if Dream does not reveal it himself.

Even in fics of mine where Dream reveals his name, like in Giving Sanctuary, I have Hob be slow on the uptake when it comes to the extent of Dream's powers, even things like being able to enter and control dreams, and the reason I do this is carefully considered and based in the fact that Hob would have no way of knowing who Dream is or by extension what he can do.

So I kind of want to take a step back and address in detail just how actually impossible it would be, objectively, for Hob to figure out who Dream is in a world that doesn't have The Sandman comic for him to read to figure it out.

This is, of course, because, from a Doylist angle, Neil's "Dream of the Endless" is not based in any single mythology. Indeed, Dream as we know him is cobbled together from at least three or more different mythological figures, none of which combine to actually form the "Dream of the Endless" we see in the show or read in the comics. The Endless are completely made up for the comic and the Sandman, Morpheus, and Oneiros are all from wildly different mythologies and none of them actually overlap to form the complete picture of who Dream is as an entity in the Sandman show or comic.

So even if someone straight-up told Hob that the person he meets is the Sandman, Morpheus, or Oneiros (btw, there is no singular figure of "Oneiros" in Greek mythology) he would still not be able to put together the full picture of who Dream is. Even if he's given the name "Dream of the Endless" to work with, those words combined don't mean anything on their own if you don't have what an Endless is filled in, because it was made up entirely for the comic. (Of course, a fanfic author absolutely could make up such a book for their fic but it would be a creation for that fic, serving a purpose within that story like to tip Hob off, though I think it's entirely reasonable to make up a book in the Sandman world that goes into detail on who the Endless are. The Magdalene Grimoire, btw, is not that book. It only talks about Death. Death is a figure in many mythologies including the Christian one, but Dream is not. Even Burgess needs the Corinthian to tell him who Dream is in the show, and he's an occultist.)

Couple all of this with Hob's personal experience with Dream, encountering him as part of a wager with Dream's sister Death to see if Hob could bear a life of immortality, you get far more clues that would send him hurtling off into a totally incorrect direction before you'd get anything close to the truth, if we assume only the books available in our world are available to him.

So the reason this is a bit of an irritation for me that there's this idea that Hob has "all the clues" to figure out who Dream is because it smacks of a logical fallacy.

Basically, it's easy to see that the answer to a complicated math problem is "obvious" if someone just hands the answer to you. But challenging people to actually solve it themselves could be quite a bit more complicated. And in this complex formula solving for "Who the fuck is Hob's mysterious stranger?" there's actually so many blank X's of unanswered questions that I genuinely think there's no way for Hob to solve this equation without someone giving him the answer.

Let's go through this systematically, using just what Hob knows as observed on screen in the show.

1389 - a pale man in all black with a ruby at his throat approaches Hob's table and challenges Hob to meet him there in 100 years. He then smiles enigmatically and leaves.

That's it. That's all Hob has to go off of. He never sees Death, he has no idea about the wager. As far as he knows, Dream gave him immortality. It would be the most logical conclusion given that the day before Hob didn't have immortality and the day after, presumably, he does.

1489 - The only confirmation he has is actually seeing Dream there in 1489 and the first thing he asks is, "How did you know that I'd be here?"

Dream does not answer him. Hob takes a few stabs at guessing his identity which reveals his Christian European context: are you a wizard, or a saint -- to be clear, these are two types of human magic users that make sense to Hob for his context. The only other figure he can think of is The Devil. He doesn't ask if Dream is a pagan god or a faerie, he assumes a man with arcane or divine magic, or the Devil.

Dream says that he's not the Devil, much good that would do if he was a Devil who could just presumably lie to Hob, and says he's interested in Hob's experience and implies that he will grant him another 100 years of life. He is sarcastic and unimpressed about Hob's wonder at the world. He doesn't even actually show much interest in Hob being in the printing business. He only shows a spark of interest in Hob's continued desire to live, and then immediately takes off.

1589 - The only new information Hob gets this year is 1) Dream is supremely uninterested in food or the wealth Hob has earned, or his family, and 2) puny little Will Shaxberd, a crap playwright with no shot at becoming anything more, suddenly becomes a famous playwright. He would eventually become a renowned playwright in his day but keep in mind, Shakespeare didn't actually become mega famous centuries after his death. In his day, many people thought other playwrights like Marlowe were better.

My point is, from this Hob doesn't necessarily get even the pieces to determine that Dream likes art. It might seem obvious to us because Dream is Prince of Stories, but that's not the offer Dream gives Shaxberd. He just asks if it is Will's will to create dreams to spur the minds of men. Yes, we know that Dream wants Will to make dreams for him, but in Hob's context, Dream is just asking what Will would sell his soul for, just like he overheard Hob saying he had no intention of dying. From this perspective the only strong conclusion Hob can draw is that Dream grants wishes.

From this, Hob could conclude that Dream is a djinn/genie, or perhaps a faerie, but there is absolutely nothing to indicate he's associated with dreams or literature directly besides a mention of creating dreams nested in the context of asking Shaxberd what he wants, giving him a supernatural gift much like the one Hob believes Dream gave him.

At this point, the domains of Dream's power are very muddled for Hob because he doesn't know Death gave him immortality. So as far as he knows, Dream can give immortality AND make an amateur playwright into the greatest writer who ever lived. Putting these two things together does not bring you naturally to the domain of dreams by any stretch.

(I will note here, that in Giving Sanctuary, I had Hob learn that "Death" is Dream's sister before he learns Dream's name. There, his initial conclusion is that Dream must therefore be Famine, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the one known for wearing black (and not eating seems like a clue with Dream too) my point being that having another, small piece of the whole puzzle still would probably send him flying off in the wrong direction given his cultural context.)

1789: The next time Hob gets any hint that Dream has powers is with Lady Johanna. He uses his sand to show her her, "old ghosts". Note, she does not fall asleep but rather begins to hallucinate.

The Sandman myth has its origins of Scandinavia and it is first written down in in "Der Sandmann" a context that Hob might have access to, if he's very well read, in the early 1800s. By the way, the description of the Sandman in that book bears a striking resemblance to the Corinthian, because he eats the eyes of naughty children, and very little to Dream beyond the use of sand in his magic.

There is absolutely nothing to link the Sandman to Morpheus the Roman God of Dreams, who was made up entirely by Ovid in the Metamorphoses and never mentioned anywhere before that. That's because Neil Gaiman was the first to link those two mythological figures.

And on that note, there is no Oneiros attested to in Hesiod. The mention of Oneiros is actually to the "Oneiroi" an entire tribe of dreams and nightmares who are the children of Night (Nix). There's Hypnos (Sleep) who is the brother of Thanatos (Death) but that is about as close as we get to the Endless in any other mythological source besides the comics. And again, Dream does not put Johanna to sleep, he makes her hallucinate.

1889- Again, there is precious little to go off of. Dream is tight-lipped as ever. The only thing he gives away is that Lady Johanna later helped him with a task, a fact Hob is visibly annoyed and I daresay jealous about, and when he lashes out he refers to himself as, "One such as I."

But "One such as I," only reveals something Hob already knew: that Dream thinks highly of himself. That doesn't actually reveal that Dream is even magical, he could just be nobility or a powerful immortal magic user and refer to himself that way. Hob already knows that Dream is magical, and immortal, and probably some sort of high born or aristocrat. He's probably known that since 1389 given how Dream was dressed and given that giant fuck-off ruby (which actually might make Hob, in that day, wonder if Dream was a relation to the Black Prince)

That's it. That is the grand total of everything Hob has seen of Dream.

Hob in the comic will eventually admit, in The Wake, that he figured out who Dream was on his own. But this is after Seasons of Mist when Dream toasts him in Hob's dream and Hob wakes up with the impossible bottle of wine on his bedside. He has another encounter too with Dream where Dream eventually accedes to Hob's request to make the men who killed Audrey, his dead girlfriend, know who she was. Presumably, Dream makes them dream of her.

So Hob in the comics by the time we get to The Wake has more to go off of to make the link to the Lord of Dreams. Hob as we see him in the show, has had much less to go off of.

Even if you give Hob one piece of the puzzle, like one of the names like Morpheus, or The Sandman, or Oneiros, that still doesn't help give him the whole picture. The word "Endless" would be meaningless. He would have to have read at least three pretty obscure books that span a period of 2,000 years (between Hesiod and Der Sandmann) to get the three books that Neil primarily drew from to combine these figures into the Dream of the comic.

Look, my point is, unless someone gives the answer to Hob, and explains the full extent of what the Endless are, he's got little to go off of. Arguably, not enough at all to solve for "X" as to who Dream is, even if he's given more pieces. This would be a tough problem to solve.

[alia-turin]

Time for more Cor @corleonisweek . I love him so much, I’m totally trying to write somethng for each day, will see how that goes.

Fic Title: The Immortal Week day/Theme: Day 2, Trail of Gilgamesh Rating: G  Characters: Cor, Clarus, Regis, Cid Summary: Cor just lost his fight with Gilgamesh and struggles to accept the fact that he lost. He went trough the challenges with pure stubbornness and arrogance and now neither of these can help him to get over his defeat. 

Tagging: @birdsandivory @jojopitcher @lazarustrashpit @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @themissimmortal @ladychocoberry @theyearofdiamonddogs @kairakara101

“You failed, boy.” A voice echoed in the darkness, Cor looked around trying to identify the direction, but it was coming from everywhere. He made a step forward, then another one, it was all the same, nothingness. Nothing ahead of him, nothing behind him. Was he dead? If that was the afterlife it was damn boring.

“You are weak.” That same voice echoed again and Cor waved his sword at random direction.

“Why don’t you come and tell me that in my face.” He decided that if he walked ahead, he would reach somewhere or something.  He tried to remember how he got to that nothingness but couldn’t. He remembered going through Gilgamesh’s trails, he remembered meeting Gilgamesh and then…that’s right he cut off his arm. That was sweet. Then things were becoming a bit blurrier. Did he kill Gilgamesh? No, no something else happened. What happened?

“Your arrogance is your weakness, kid.” The voice continued.

“Don’t call me kid.” No response followed.

Didn’t Gilgamesh say that as well? That he was arrogant. Yeah, he did. And Cor had attack and he had attacked again and again, Gilgamesh blocking each attack. Was he injured? He looked at himself, but he couldn’t see any wounds, nor he could feel pain anywhere. Strange, he remembered Gilgamesh getting to him several times. Certainly, he recalled a very nasty injury just below his chest and his arm bleeding so bad that the grip of his sword was all sticky with blood. There was no trace of that.

“Am I dead?” Cor asked the nothingness, but no answer came. He couldn’t be dead. He was Cor Leonis, the youngest member of the Crownsguard. He might have not been gifted with much in life, but he was gifted with sword skill and he couldn’t just die.

“Arrogant boy.” The voice echoed again.  

“Are you reading my mind?” Cor shouted but only laughter answered his words. “Show yourself! I’m the best swordsman on this star, I will make you eat your own words!”

“Best swordsman?” The voice laughed again. “You are only as good as your last battle. Your last battle didn’t end very well.”

“Lies!” Cor shouted. “I chopped off Gilgamesh’s arm, I killed Gilgamesh.”

“Did you now?” A shape appeared in the darkness surrounded by pale blue light. Cor’s eyes were already used to the darkness and hurt as the light appeared but shortly after the shape made sense to him. It was Gilgamesh, looking like a ghost, almost transparent, his arm still attached.

“I killed you!” truth was, he didn’t remember what happened. He wanted it to be truth, but last thing he remembered was fighting and then this darkness he was stuck in. “Am I dead?” his mind was starting to fill with doubt.

“No. I was merciful.” Gilgamesh wasn’t laughing anymore, his voice was flat.

“I don’t want your mercy. Fight me again and kill me or I will kill you.” Cor rushed towards the blue light and tried to slash at Gilgamesh but his sword cut through thin air. He tried again and again until his body eventually collapsed on the ground.

 “He is coming back to it.” Familiar voice spoke as Cor was opening his eyes. Too much light, too bright. “Hey, kid, look at me.” Something hit his cheek. “Cor, look at me.”

Cor finally managed to fully open his eyes, Clarus was staring at him, there were two other people in the room that he didn’t recognize.

“Where is Gilgamesh, I need to…” Cor tried to get up but his body refused to obey. He was in so much pain. Everything hurt.

“Easy, kid.” Clarus placed a hand on his shoulder gently forcing him to stay put. “You have three broken ribs, your shoulder is dislocated, you have multiple injuries all over your body and you have lost way too much blood and they could transfer only as much from mine in you.”

Cor’s memory was starting to come back to him. He fought Gilgamesh. He did good, but not good enough. He chopped off Gilgamesh’s arm and thought he had him but that didn’t even slow down his enemy. He fought until his legs couldn’t keep him standing anymore and then he lost consciousness.

“Did you go in the cave?” Cor remembered his argument with Clarus before he undertook the trails. Clarus telling him that he has nothing to prove, that his place is by the king…he also remembered calling the older man a coward. Who was the coward now? The man who had the brain to fulfill his duty or the arrogant brat that got his ass kicked.

“No. We found you at the entrance two days ago.” Clarus explained.

“Two days ago…” Cor repeated as if trying to remember something.

“We found that.” Clarus showed him a sword that certainly wasn’t Cor’s. “Don’t know what happened with your sword.”

Memories started rushing to his mind. That was right. He fought Gilgamesh and then Gilgamesh took his sword, and Cor sealed the cave. He sealed the cave so he could come back later, so nobody else could fight Gilgamesh. That bastard took his sword.

Cor wanted to turn his back toward Clarus, but his body refused. Instead he just turned his head in the opposite direction.

“What happened in the cave, Cor?” the older man asked but Cor didn’t answer. He stared at the wall and pretended he was alone in the room.

 Days passed, nurses and doctors came to check on him. One of the doctors said he needed physio for his shoulder but Cor just barked at him and send him out. He needed no physio, he failed, he was good for nothing. Clarus came to see him few more times so did Regis and Cid and Weskham. He didn’t talk to any of them. He just looked in the nothingness of the hospital room and thought about his failure. Cor knew how failure tasted, it wasn’t that he never failed at anything. He failed at school, he failed to fulfil his parents’ expectations at times, but he had never failed with the sword. He knew he was the best with a sword and no one could match him. Until now. He wasn’t special anymore. He was just another kid in the Crownsguard. Good for nothing.

“Stop sulking.” Clarus told him. That was visit number three for this week and Cor hasn’t said a word beside shout at a nurse who came to give him painkillers. He didn’t need painkillers he needed his pain to remind him how pathetic he was. “And apologize to the nurse she was cute.”

“You can go after her and apologize with your dick.” Cor didn’t say that very loud, but Clarus heard it. The man grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him up forcing him to sit on the bed.

“What has gotten into you? Someone spanked you and you are even more insufferable than you used to be.” Cor tried to turn his head away, he couldn’t look at Clarus but the older man grabbed his face and forced him to look at him. “I’m talking to you. What’s your issue? Take it out and be done.”

“I don’t have an issue. I just wish…” he felt something wet around his eyes. He was crying. That was how weak he was, he was crying like some little kid. “I wish I was dead.” He said between two sobs.

“Why?” Clarus asked him as if that was the weirdest thing in the word but it seemed so natural to Cor. Dying is what he deserved. “Because you got your ass kicked? There will be always a better fighter than you, Cor. There will be always someone stronger. There will be always someone better.”

“But I am the best! There is nobody better.” He shouted so loud aq nurse had to check on them but Clarus made her a sign to leave. “I was somebody, I was going to be undefeated, greatest swordsman in history, hero of Insomnia. Now I’m nothing.”

“Kid, you have two modes, don’t you?” Clarus wasn’t holding him anymore and the expression on his face had softened. “Cor ‘Fight me’ Leonis and Cor ‘I failed’ Leonis. You need to use your experience to learn something. Learn to lose, learn to see where you went wrong and correct it. Is that all you got out of that cave? The fact that you failed? Look.” Clarus threw something at him and with great effort Cor managed to lift it. It was a newspaper. The title page was reading ‘Cor the Immortal’. The article went on and on how he was the strongest and braves man in the Crownsguard, how he was the first man to survive encounter with Gilgamesh. He started turning the pages, there were different articles written by different people, some discussing Cor’s background, current condition and if he really was immortal.

“Cor the Immortal.” He repeated out loud. “I hate it.”

“You might hate it, but these people see more in you, than you see in yourself. You didn’t fail, Cor. You learned a lesson.” Clarus took the newspaper from his hands and walked towards the door. “I will check on that nurse. I will see you tomorrow.”

Cor thought of saying thank you, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. He was puzzled how everyone saw success in his failure. Then again there was a good argument in favour of considering being alive as success. Gilgamesh had changed him and he could feel it. It has been a week since their encounter and Cor had never felt so miserable. It was completely new feeling. Self-hate and self-doubt were also destroying him from the inside, but again those were new feelings. Gilgamesh was right, Cor was weak, but he began to understand now what sort of weakness he was talking about. It wasn’t physical weakness, it was weakness in his mind. His stubbornness and arrogance made him weak. Clarus was also right, and he had laughed in the man’s face for being an adult. Clarus had told him he doesn’t want to throw his life away, his life was dedicated to protecting Regis, and Cor called him a coward. Now Cor could see it wasn’t cowardice that stopped Clarus, but duty. He wanted to build an argument for himself that it was duty that send him in that cave, but he had to be honest with himself. It wasn’t duty, it was pride and that same pride landed him on his ass beaten. He was going to learn. He was going to become better man and then show Gilgamesh.

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (46/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous Chapters conveniently available here

[17 May 236 Before Age.  Extraliga]

"You want to go after her?  Are you insane!?"

"You're way out of line, kid!"

On the bridge of Luffa's star-yacht, her companions were having an argument.  They were Dorluns, of a culture that valued survival above all, and they had been separated from the rest of their kind.  This and their ties to Luffa had made them very close, almost like sisters, but that didn't mean they always agreed.  

The younger of the two, Keda, had assumed a role as Luffa's business assistant.  She managed the Saiyan's finances, kept the ship running smoothly, and did whatever odd jobs needed doing.   Most of this could be accomplished from the yacht's spacious bridge, and so Keda had converted it into her own private quarters.   Off to one side of the deck she had a sleeping bag and a footlocker, and various personal effects laying around them.  Ironically, there were far more comfortable cabins on the ship--it had originally been a luxury pleasure craft after all--but Keda wasn't interested in comfort.  For her, the bridge was the best place to be on the ship, since she could respond to almost any situation from that location.  

Her only real regret about working for Luffa was that it made for a somewhat lonely existence.  Luffa was a good friend, but a strange one, and not always sociable.  The Saiyan would get into one of her moods and keep to herself, sometimes for days.  Keda tried to keep a respectful distance, but she had long wished for more relateable company.  When Zatte showed up, it seemed like a dream come true.  

It had been a miracle of sorts.  Zatte was supposed to have been killed while defending the Dorlun colony from an alien invasion.  But Dorluns were hard to kill, and after two years, she turned up alive and well, though she had lost her right eye in the battle.  Best of all, she had agreed to live with them on the ship, but it had all been a trick.  Zatte had actually been enchanted by a race of demonic creatures the whole time.  Luffa had managed to free Zatte from their power, but Keda found it difficult to believe everything was back to normal.  

"Zatte, we're safe here!" Keda said.  "If we follow Luffa to Planet Wist, who knows what we might run into!"

"What, so we just abandon her?" Zatte asked.  She was about twice Keda's age, and normally that would have settled the dispute then and there.  The Dorluns respected their elders, after all, since an elder was someone who had managed to stay alive longer.  But Keda had never heard an adult Dorlun talk as recklessly as Zatte.  Besides, living with a Super Saiyan had forced Keda to grow up in a hurry.  She refused to back down from this.

"Luffa told us to stay behind!" Keda shouted.  "She doesn't need our help, dammit!"

"Watch your mouth, Keda," Zatte said.  

"Or what?" Keda shot back.  "Are you gonna fight me?  That seems to be your answer to everything else!"

"She's the xan'nil-Dor!" Zatte insisted.  "We have an obligation as Dorluns to--"

"Don't play that card with me," Keda snapped.  "You keep saying she's a xan'nil-Dor, but I don't buy it!  You're just looking for an excuse to go charging into battle again."

"You of all people should understand what I'm trying to do!" Zatte said.  "You've been providing support for Luffa's work for years now!"

Keda threw up her hands.  "Because it's my job!" she shouted.  "Luffa pays me for this.  She lets me live on her ship for free and she lets me use the subspace radio to try to find other Dorluns.  And if we run into any trouble at all, she takes care of it.  She's the strongest person in the universe, and she pays me to live under her protection!"

Zatte turned up her nose.  "Is that all she is to you?" she asked.  "Just a resource to exploit?"

"Of course not," Keda said.  "But I'm not trying to turn her into some kind of religious symbol to justify bad decisions like you are!   You want to risk your neck, and you're using her as an excuse!"

"I said watch your mouth, kid!" Zatte yelled.  Among the Dorluns, 'risk' was not a word to be used lightly.  

"Oh, so it's bad for me to say it, but it's okay for you to do it?" Keda scoffed.  "What did those Makyans do to you, Zatte?"

Her good eye narrowed as she looked down at Keda.  "They showed me that there's a lot of evil in the universe," she said grimly.  "And that we can't just hide under our beds and hope someone else will fix it for us."

They stared at each other wordlessly, and and then the door to the lift opened.   Dr. Topsas stepped onto the deck.  In three of his arachnoid limbs he held mugs.  

"Ladies," he said pleasantly.  "I couldn't get to sleep, so I went to the galley to make some tea.  Would you care for some?"

"Not right now, doctor," Zatte said in a low voice.

"Thanks, but no," Keda said.  

"Hmm, more for myself, I suppose," Topsas said.  "Ms. Zatte, I should like to look at your arm once more in the morning."

"It's fine, doctor."

"Indeed, but I have little experience in treating Dorlun patients, and my old exophysiology professor always warned me to be thorough.  You mammals have so few arms as it is.  You'll forgive me for being overcautious."

"Of course," Zatte said.  "First thing tomorrow."

He turned and left the way he came in, and the two of them continued staring at each other.  

"You don't trust me because of what the Makyans did to me," Zatte said.  "Is that it?  You still think I'm under the influence of the Black Water Mist."

"Well, you stopped wearing that weird costume," Keda said, "but you haven't done anything about your hair."

The Dorluns all wore their red hair long, just in case they needed to use some of it for kindling to start a fire in an inhospitable situation.  It was one of their oldest customs, dating back to the dawn of Dorlun civilization.  Keda had hers tied up in a bun for convenience.  Zatte had most of hers cut off at the whim of her former masters.  She had been sporting an undercut bob ever since.  Her bangs hung down just above her eyebrows, and the rest of her hair barely covered her ears.  It was a stylish look, but not very Dorlun at all.  

"I happen to like my hair this way," Zatte said.  "It's a lot easier to wear my eyepatch, for starters."

"I hadn't thought of that," Keda said rubbing the tip of her chin.  

"You know I infected Luffa with the Mist, right?" Zatte added.  "You still trust her, don't you?"

"Yeah, but..."

"She cured herself," Zatte said.  "I don't understand it all, but she managed to break free and then she did something in my mind, and the next thing I knew we were all back to normal."

"All?" Keda asked.

"They had a lot of agents out there, kid," Zatte said.  She walked over to the main viewscreen and looked at the display of the night sky outside.  "I know because one of the jobs they made me do was to keep tabs on them.  There was this order of monks on this one planet.  We had three of them infected with the Mist.  No one in the monastery knew, but every night they went out and held these arcane rituals to summon evil spirits.  Blood sacrifices, the works.  Every so often they'd send me a progress report.   There was another planet where we had one woman killing random strangers on a regular basis.  Just, picked an innocent person and slashed their throat.  She'd send me a list of names.  Another guy was the prime minister of his planet."

"What did he do?" Keda asked.  

Zatte shrugged.  "I have no idea.  His orders were to sit tight and wait for the 'right moment', whatever that was.  At the time, I used to look forward to it.  I used to look at a big map of the galaxy and look at all the red dots that represented our agents, and I'd imagine it was a plague spreading through all of creation.  No one even knew about it, and even if they did, no one could stop it.  And what I liked the most was that I was a part of it."

She clenched her fists as she looked at the star-field.  "Luffa... she was as much a part of that plague as I was, but she took that power and tore it down in a matter of days!  Days!  She eradicated the Black Water Mist like it was nothing, and all it did was make her hungry!  Later, she apologized for not doing it sooner!"

She turned and faced Keda.  "That was when I realized she was xan'nil-Dor, Keda.  The 'why we survive'.  She's part of the higher cause all Dorluns live for.  For the good of the universe, we have to help her."

"It's not your call to make," Keda said.  "You can't just decide your alien girlfriend's a xan'nil-Dor for crying out loud.  I'm only twelve and I know that much.  You need--"

"I know!" Zatte said.  "I should take it to a council of elders, present a formal argument, and let them decide whether my claim is legitimate.  And it's not like we're talking about a planet, or a scientific mission.  Whenever the xan'nil-Dor is a person they'd want an in-person interview, and that would go over so well with her."

"She hates that kind of talk," Keda said.  "Lots of people already think she's some kind of angel or demigoddess, or a cosmic entity.  It ticks her off."

"Keda, it doesn't matter whether she likes it or not.  It doesn't matter that there are no other Dorluns I can take this to.  I know what I saw."  Zatte paced around aimlessly for a moment, then dropped into one of the chairs at the forward stations.  "Do you think I want to wander into a battlefield on a planet I've never seen before?   I have to do this.  She's a xan'nil-Dor, and if I don't go help her then my life isn't worth much at all."

"Help her?!" Keda asked.  "She's a Super Saiyan, Zatte.  She's invincible!"

"That's their legend, kid," Zatte said.  "You remember ours, don't you?  The immortal Dorlun?  And what happened to him?"

Keda rolled her eyes.  "Come on..."

"What happened to him, Keda?  You know the story."

She threw back her head and made a weary sigh. "Ugh.  He fell down a well and he's still there to this day," she said.  

"Safe and sound, for all the good it does him," Zatte said.  "Maybe she really is invincible, but that doesn't mean she couldn't use a hand once in a while.  You saved her once, from what I hear."  

"That was..." Keda shook her head and started waving her hands.  "That's not how it happened.   I needed her help just as much--"

"She really looks up to you, you know," Zatte said.  

"Oh, now you're just teasing me," Keda said.  

"It's true," Zatte said with a smile.  "She doesn't like to talk about it because she's embarrassed that she needed help from a little kid.  But I think she wishes she could have been in your shoes, helping someone much, much stronger face impossible odds."

"Well, I'd rather be the invincible one on the team," Keda said.   "So I guess we're even."

"Look, Keda, you don't have to come along.  You can go with the doctor and see him back home like Luffa wanted.  I understand why you'd want to honor her request," Zatte said.  She swung the chair around to face the computer terminal and began typing in course commands.  "But I need the ship.  I'll take it through the wormhole to Wist, but I'll probably have to bring it back the long way.  Luffa wouldn't want to expose the fairies who live in the wormhole to her energy."

"I won't let you do that, Zatte," Keda said firmly.  

She paused and looked up at the girl.  "Won't let me?" Zatte asked.

"You want to put yourself in harm's way, all on some vague hunch," Keda said.  "Maybe it makes perfect sense to you, but you're the only other Dorlun I've found so far, and I need you.  Luffa might enjoy having you join her in battle, but she told you to stay here, and she's the boss."

Zatte swung the chair around and listed to one side as she listened to Keda.  "The boss, huh?"

"This is her ship," Keda said, "and when she's not around, I'm in charge."

"Swell," Zatte said.  She turned back to the station and resumed her work.  

Keda watched her angrily for a moment, then looked up at nothing in particular.  "Computer," she called out.  "Lock out all command functions, voice-authorization: Keda-115-Phi-763."

Zatte ignored this until the displays on her station stopped responding.  Red text appeared on the screen, informing her that her access had been denied.  She looked back to Keda impatiently.

"Kid," she said, "You're really starting to tick me off..."

"I'm serious, Zatte," Keda said.  "You can beat me up if you want, but I won't release navigation to you.  We're going to do what Luffa asked, and that's that."

"I don't want to fight you, Keda," Zatte said.  "If I had access to another ship, I'd use it, but I need--"

Keda crossed her arms.  "I said no."

Zatte put her elbow on the armrest of her chair and rested her head in her palm as she regarded the child.  "I think I see why Luffa appreciates you so much," she said.  "I'm sorry it has to come to this."  

Before Keda could ask what she meant, Zatte put her hand on the computer panel and cleared her throat to speak.  "Computer, execute program Zatte One."

The panel flickered as new displays appeared, and then a line of text appeared which read "Handprint authorization confirmed.  Access granted."

"Wh-what?" Keda gasped.  She ran over to the nearest terminal and tried to undo Zatte's last command, but the computer refused to accept her instructions.  "What the hell did you do?" she asked.

"Language," Zatte muttered.  "I figured your shape-shifting powers might help you imitate my voice, maybe enough to fool the computer, so I added a handprint authorization to go with it.  You might be able to imitate my fingerprints, but not if I use my energy manipulating abilities to modify the image slightly.  Of course, you're probably clever enough to find a way around that too, I guess, but I'm betting it'll take you a while."

Keda started checking every terminal on the bridge, and began pulling her hair out of the bun it was in.  "How...?  When did you do all of this?" she asked furiously.  

"When I first came on board," Zatte said.  "The Makyans sent me here to kidnap Luffa, remember?  My plan worked perfectly, but I hacked the ship's computer just in case you got suspicious and tried to stop me.  I probably would have removed the program eventually, but I never got around to it.  Feels kind of embarrassing to use it now, but what can I do?"

Keda kicked one of the workstations in frustration.  

"I meant what I said," Zatte told her.  "I won't force any of you into this, and I'll go alone if I have to, but I will be going."  She turned from the station and looked at her with an earnest expression.  "I know it's crummy of me to ask, but I wish you'd come along.  You're the only other Dorlun I have, and I need you."

Keda ran her hands over her face and took a few deep breaths.  "I guess I should stay with the ship," she finally said.   "You'd better be right about this, Zatte."

*******

[17 May 236 Before Age.  Planet Wist.]

Normally, it would have been difficult for them to move so freely across the skies of Planet Wist, but with Luffa on the warpath, much of the Shockmaster’s military might was either demolished or otherwise engaged.  Suddenly, the trio of Ensign Liberty, Scotch Woodcock, and Tobiko were very low on the priorities list.  If anyone below even noticed their movements, they did nothing to react.

"Bloody hell," Woodcock grumbled as he looked over the site of a recent battle.  "Bird’s only been here a few hours, right?    Looks like a damn army of Saiyans came through here."

"She’s intense," M’ranga said.  "When I met her before, she was holding back her power.  Even then, all she wanted to do was fight, even if it was just sparring with me.  Well, she’s not holding back anymore, and if we don’t put the Shockmaster down while we have the chance, there may not be a planet left to save!"

They flew in a V formation, with M’ranga in the lead, holding a small copper nugget in front of her like a compass.

"Arrrre you surrrre we’re going the rrrriiight waayyyy?" Tobiko asked.

"If this enchanted stone works like it’s supposed to," M’ranga said, "we should be on the right track.  I’m just worried we won’t make it in time."

"What is this Shockmaster guy anyway?" Woodcock asked Tobiko.  "Y’said you’re about as old as he is, right?  Two o’ ya were mates back in the day?"

"It’s nooooot thaaaat simmmmple," Tobiko explained.  "Youuuu seeeee--"

He paused for a moment, then raised his hands over his throat and chanted something quite unpronounceable.  When he spoke again, he sounded like a completely different person.

"Ah, much better.  Excuse me, friends," he said.  "I’ve lived alone in the marshes for many long ages.  I’m not used to speaking this much, and I know my normal voice can be... tiresome after a time."

Woodcock stared at him in disbelief, the he reached into the pocket of his leather pants and withdrew a hip flask.  He took a swig and shook his head.  "Wish you’da done that a long time ago..."

"The loquacion spell lasts for but a short time," Tobiko said, "yet it will suffice for me to tell the story."

He cleared his throat and began: "The Ancient Wist once dominated this region of the universe.  Their powers and technology were formidable, and their culture was among the finest in the galaxy.    Order was preserved not through mere soldiers or arms, but by a great council of wise elders.  I was once a member of that august body, before I became the repugnant creature you see today."

"You’re a brave man trying to help his people, Tobiko," M’ranga said.  "I find nothing repugnant about that."

"Erm, yes, well, be that as it may," Tobiko continued, "I did not always look like this.  Before I was condemned to exile, I resembled the people of Wist as they are today.  I was considered quite handsome in my youth, for what it’s worth--"

"You’re fighting for a noble cause," M’ranga insisted.  "That’s the inner beauty that counts, mister."

"You think so...?" Tobiko asked.  "The Elders banished me for speaking out against certain military expansions, and they cursed me to inhabit this amphibian form specifically because it was hideous and unseemly."

"I’ve been to many different planets in my time," M’ranga said.  "And in my experience, there is no absolute standard of attractiveness, save for the quality of a person’s character--"

"Beerus Priest, will ya let him finish the fraggin’ story already?!" Woodcock groaned.

"Sorry," M’ranga said.

"Yes, er, as I was saying," Tobiko said, "the fact of the matter is that the Shockmaster was sealed away long before I was born.  He was one of the great heroes of his age, a staunch defender of the principles my people once cherished.  But like me, he fell out of favor with the Council.  However, his distinguished career earned him clemency.  Instead of being cursed to a long life of isolation, he was placed in a kind of stasis, so that he could be summoned once more if his heroism was ever needed in the future."

"He seems to have an odd definition of heroism," M’ranga said.

"A matter of perspective, I should imagine," Tobiko said.  "I have wandered the marshes of my world for many thousands of years, and yet the Shockmaster’s era was ancient to me when I was a boy.  Times have changed, and mayhap the world he seeks to preserve no longer exists.   Perhaps it never existed at all.  I wonder--"

"There!" M’ranga called out.  She signaled to the others to come to a stop, and she pointed to the ground.

"Found him, eh?" Woodcock asked.  They had traveled to the remote highlands of one of the planet’s northernmost islands.  There was still green vegetation below them, but the harsh winds and rocky outcroppings would support little else beside grass and lichens.

"The faerie stone is enchanted to lead me in the direction of the Shockmaster," M’ranga said.  "And right now it’s tugging me straight down."

Woodcock looked around and tipped the brim of his black hat, revealing his third eye.  "Yeah, I see him now.  There’s a buncha cairns down there.  He’s standin’ in the middle of ’em.  Still can’t sense his power.  Like he dropped dead or something."

"It’s the Reverie," Tobiko said.  "The ancients used an intense meditative state for profound contemplation.  It is said that the greatest adepts could commune with spirits in the hereafter.  But to attain such a state places the body in a sort of paralysis.  He has no awareness of his surroundings, nor can he interact with the physical world."

"That’s why he came here," M’ranga said.  "He knew he’d be vulnerable, so he picked a secluded place far away from anyone who might stumble across him.  He wasn’t expecting us to be able to track him down."

They floated to the ground only a few feet away from the Shockmaster.  As Woodcock had said, he seemed to be standing perfectly still, as though waiting for them to arrive.  Cautiously, they circled around him, half-expecting him to come to life.

"Don’t feel right, kickin’ him when he’s down like this," Woodcock said.  

"I'm not interested in a fair fight," M'ranga said.  "This may be our only chance to defeat him and free this planet, and I'm taking it."  With that, she drew a plasma pistol from her belt and opened fire.  The beams of green energy struck the Shockmaster's massive chest...

...And passed through him, emerging from his back.  

"Tobiko?" M'ranga called warily.  

"Astounding," Tobiko said.  "His mastery of the technique is far greater than I could have imagined.   So deep is his meditation that his material form has left the physical plane altogether."

Woodcock walked up to the Shockmaster and reached out to touch him.  His hand passed through the Shockmaster's body as if it were not even there.  "Like a damn hologram," Woodcock muttered.  He pointed at his third eye.  "Only I can tell the difference, and this here looks like the real thing."

"Now what?" M'ranga asked.  "We can't touch him until he snaps out of this trance, and by then it'll be too late!"

"Do not abandon hope," Tobiko said.  He raised his hands and made strange gestures with his webbed fingers.  "Perhaps a spell of containment may succeed where your weapons will not..."

They watched him for several minutes, though neither Woodcock nor M'ranga understood what he was doing or how he was doing it.  It looked very much like the grotesque sorceror was weaving invisible threads on an imaginary loom.  Just when it seemed he was finished, he circled around to perform a similar series of gestures from a different position.  

"How long's this gonna take, anyhow?" Woodcock asked pointedly.

"My charms must be thorough to contain a being of his might," Tobiko replied.  

"And if he snaps out of it before you're finished?" M'ranga asked.  

"That would be... unfortunate," Tobiko said.  

NEXT: Unfortunately...

[probablynotpsycho-blog]

PERSONAL:

Full Name: Ashley Cynthia Luxworth

Nickname/What they go by: Ash or Lux

Gender: Female

Age: 22

Education (do they go to school? where?): High school dropout

Career ambition: To sell poisons or toxins to whoever needs them or is willing to pay for them.

Hobbies: Baking/cooking, experimenting in her room with toxin and poisons (combinations of them, and cures obviously), and wilting flowers.

What does ambrosia taste like for them? Raspberry and mango cider

What is their fatal flaw? Impulsiveness

FAMILY:

Parents: Reginal Luxworth, mortal, Father, 49. Ahklys, immortal, Mother, ageless.

Did their mortal parent know about the Gods? Nope, still is unaware and thinks his daugher works at a secret base, even if she doesn’t have credentials. He’s a gynecologist with little common sense.

Siblings: None

Pets: Old grey tabby cat called Cinder which has a tendency to run away from her, after an incident involving its food and a fairly large dose of nutmeg (what she labels as an ‘experiment’.

Other Family:  Ashley has a mortal aunt called Regalia Luxworth, 47 years old, who was widowed before she had children. She also has an uncle called Rind Luxworth who is mortal, 51 years old and divorced with a song called Quinn Luxworth, mortal, who is 27 years old now. 

Ancestry/Heritage: Mother is the protogenoi goddess of misery and poison, keeper of the death mist.

ROMANCE:

Romantic orientation: Biromantic

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Significant other: None at the moment

If none above, do they have a crush? Nope. Has a preference for people who are slightly rough around the edges.

Are they a virgin? No, although she is largely inexperienced.

CAMP:

How did they arrive at camp the first time? She was in an argument with a boy slightly younger than her (a son of Athena) when she was 16, nearly 17. The monsters were drawn to him and attacked her too, which ended in her fleeing to camp with the boy and a stranger who was his ‘gaurdian’, sent to retrieve him. They weren’t in immense danger at the time, it was just considered the best solution and she was taken because of the monsters interest in her despite it being small.

Have they been on any quests? A few times, but fairly safe and boring ones, after all she doesn’t attract many monsters and usually manages to cloud her groups presence rather well. Generally sent to kill plant-based creatures.

Weapon of choice? Tends to avoid military combat if she can, but when prompted to she uses a bow and arrow because she’s not very fast or strong so it seemed like the best idea to her. After nearly 5 years she’s still not very good though.

Strongest ability or power? Her strongest ability is the power to conjure and bend death mist which can turn allies or herself into a mist with a corpse-like complexion to shroud them from monster detection.

Favorite activity at camp? Monsters and survival class

Favorite place in camp? Cabin 35, as its quiet from the small amount of siblings that she has, and barely any campers want to visit anyway. She always feels relaxed there and unlike normal flowers shes not as bad with the poisonous plants and vines in the cabin so looks after them sometimes. Has a habit of chipping away parts of the cabin when bored, making it look even more run down.

Relationship with their Godly parent? Not excellent but not terrible either, probably as she has never actually met her, or seen her yet. Because of this she gets a bit jealous or bitter when she hears about Gods and their children interacting, and sometimes wishes she was in another cabin, before once again appreciating the tranquility of it all.

MISC:

Theme song: Bebe Rexha - I’m Gonna Show You Crazy, Natasha Blume - Black Sea

The most important people/things in their life: Doesn’t have any super close connections, so the most important thing in her life would probably be her supplies which she has had for numerous years by now, and her notebook which contains her research on various toxins and poisons.

Significant information about their past: All throughout her childhood her father just assumed that her ‘strong stomach’ was the reason behind her never getting ill from off-date food. You could blame his lack of sense for not thinking about how strange his daughter was and that his partner left after she gave birth.

Random/fun fact: She is an INFP and was born January 3rd. Has never dated anyone before, as she struggles with forming close emotional connections with others, and had very little amount of friends growing up too.