#Rescue Mission

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Grasping for Answers

Throughout their early adventures the party come into conflict with the agents of the mysterious mage known only as "The Ravelling Hand", a villain of uncertain identity who seems to have lots of schemes and no qualms using violence, trickery, and unexpected magic to get what they want.

Adventure Hooks:

The party first become entangled with the hand's minions when they're asked by an innocuous travelling merchant to deliver a small wrapped parcel to the wizard living one town over. The wizard isn't open to receiving guests, and after sneaking or charming their way in, the party will find out why: her apprentice has been kidnapped, the parcel contains both of the boy's index fingers as well as a note explaining that she can have the rest of him back in exchange for several dangerous texts in her collection, delivered by the party to the same intermediary who hired them. A brawl is likely to ensue as the wizard suspects the party is in on the blackmail, but if they can talk her down maybe they can figure out a way to work together to get the boy back before any more harm comes to him.

Most thieves know better than to try and rob a magic item shop, but most thieves aren't armed with dispel magic infused salt grenades to neutralize the shop's ubiquitous defences. A rash of these attacks across the duchy has shopkeepers worried, and one hires the party to stake out their store for the night when they suspect someone is casing it. Do the party trail the robbers back to their hideout, or interrupt them mid heist only for combat to delay them long enough for those indiscriminate defences to start turning back on?

Spoiler Alert: The mage is in fact an arcanely gifted lesser kraken by the name of Dlexx who seeks to avail itself of all the magical knowledge amassed on land. Sure the deep has its own mysteries but there's a thriving trade in spellscrolls and arcane tomes that don't make it below the waves. Using an old lighthouse as a disguise for its massive form while on land, it uses telepathy and sendings to direct its minions without ever revealing its true nature. Imagine the party's surprise when they roll up to the villain's lair expecting to bully some crusty nerd with a ratty beard and instead the lair sprouts tentacles that drag them into the crashing surf.

Challenges & Consequences

Finding Dlexx is an adventure in and of itself. When questioned, most of the mage's minions admit to never having met their employer, and those high ranking enough to have been summoned to a place called "saltbite tower" in dreams only to later have their memories muddled. Careful interrogation and study of local maps will have the party realize that the tower is infact an abandoned lighthouse, which will narrow their search as they comb the costline for their enemy's lair.

Actually defeating the Ravelling Hand might prove too much for early level adventurers, as in addition to being a powerful mage the kraken is literally in its element, able to breathe and move while the heroes flounder. Dlexx will toy with them, throwing unconscious foes out of the water the way a fisherman throws back a catch that is too small. When the battle is over and it's proved it's point the kraken will collapse the tower and leave into the wide ocean, telepathically taunting them with their inability to follow.

Though the Ravelling Hand will not resurface for some time, the destruction of the tower and Dlexx's retreat into the deep is partially a bluff. The kraken chose that particular lighthouse because it was a short distance away from the coral reef into which it scribed its arcane learning the way a wizard records spells in a book, coiling arms etching formulae into hundreds of yards of living stone. Dlexx must periodically return to the reef to add spells to it, and sightings by locals (or the occasional fish manifesting with magical talent) might clue the party into the reef's existence.

A pair of merfolk siblings named Crashing-Tide and Arcing-Mirror serve the Ravelling Hand as apprentices and scribes, having promised seven years of utmost loyalty in exchange for the chance to bring the arcane knowledge of the surface back to their community. They tend to the reef, and allow the Kraken to borrow their eyes from afar so that it might study the spells scribed there. Several years into their pledge, Crash (the sister) has come to idolize Dlexx and the power it wields above and below the waves, wishing that the whole of their shoal to come into its service. Mirror (the brother) is skeptical, well aware of the kraken's manipulations and distantly suspicious of the conflict that it invokes. Perhaps if the party can intercede with these two they can learn more about their enemy's plans, though doing so will take some careful diplomacy.

Artist

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 26

Jaskier has been recognized as the runaway viscount of lettenhove by a band of bandits. Embarrassingly, they seemed to have found him in the midst of buying a personalized gift addressed "To My Beloved." Perhaps a hairclip shaped like a dandelion, or perhaps an embroidered handkerchief, or something else dainty and delightful. The bandits drag Jaskier away for ransom, even as he tries futilely to explain that his lover will NOT be polite to them if they continue down this road. I mean, whatever fancy shmancy noblewoman whose skirt he's chasing can't be that threatening to their operation, right? They write up a ransom note, intending on sending it along with a lock of Jaskier's hair, and a few drops of his blood to show they're serious. They slice across Jaskier's wrist, but there's much much much more blood than they expected, because the man slicing his wrist is suddenly missing his head. Huh. Perhaps they've underestimated Jaskier's beloved. He did try to warn them.

[missmiaforster]

Always wear a smile on your face, it brightens your beauty 😍💕 have a great day today everyone. 😘 💋

[chaotic-orphan]

Guardian Angel

Whumpee blinked at Caretaker, owlish eyes wide as Caretaker opened their cell door with a key like it was nothing. They didn’t care about making noise or Whumper hearing them, they just swooped into Whumpee’s cell, that same toothy grin on their face that was both friendly and intimidating at once.

“You— you came.”

Caretaker leaned against the door of the cell, crossing their arms over their chest. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

Whumpee just stared. Caretaker nodded at them. “Now that your mistaken lack of faith in me has been rectified, let’s get moving.”

Whumpee nodded their head. Of course! In their stupor they probably looked like an idiot, staring at Caretaker like they were their guardian angel. Probably because they were.

Another voice piped in from across Whumpee’s cell. “Whumpee?” A voice called out and Whumpee’s heart raced in their chest. They ran out of the cell, straight past Caretaker and out the door, going to Other Whumpee’s cell.

They glanced at Caretaker over their shoulder who stepped out of the cell. Eyes pleading. Caretaker’s expression didn’t change. They just said: “no” flatly.

“Caretaker please! Other Whumpee kept me alive in here! We’ve been leaning on each other the whole time.”

Caretaker blinked. “I don’t care.”

Whumpee froze. “What?”

“I don’t care,” Caretaker repeated in the same tone. Whumpee turned to face them fully, mouth agape.

“You don’t understand—”

“I think I understand perfectly, Whumpee. It’s you who’s confused so let me clear it up for you.” Caretaker closed the distance between them, cupping Whumpee’s cheek in their hand so gentle. Oh so lovingly it made Whumpee’s heart stutter and stop, and restart again at Caretaker’s touch. They missed Caretaker, they realised with an ache in their chest.

Caretaker tilted Whumpee’s head up further, ensuring that Whumpee saw the seriousness in Caretaker’s eyes when they told them.

“I came back for you, to rescue you, Whumpee. Your little trauma bonded friend here could be the next Pope, or cure cancer, for all I care and it wouldn’t make a shred of difference, or change my mind, because I came here for you.”

“Whumper will torture them!” Whumpee said, covering Caretaker’s hand with their own. Caretaker’s smile grew softer around the edges.

“I don’t care, little dove,” they almost whispered. The truth of the statement rang home for Whumpee who pulled away in disgust.

“If you came here for me then why don’t you do this for me? Just this one thing, please!”

“Please,” Other Whumpee echoed. Caretaker straightened. There was no way they went through all of this trouble and effort just to come rescue Whumpee, sweep them off their feet, and have to compete for their affection with someone else. Someone they bonded with during the course of their captivity.

“You have the keys,” Whumpee said, voice pleading. Caretaker looked into the cell Whumpee was standing in front of. Assessing the damage. If they brought Other Whumpee and Whumper caught up to them, Caretaker could always throw Other Whumpee under the bus and kill two birds with one stone. “Please.”

Caretaker’s eyes slid to Other Whumpee’s and there was a spark there. Something threatening and belligerent. Caretaker stepped back, a shutter sharpening all their soft edges when it came to Whumpee and grabbed Whumpee’s wrist.

“Yeah. No can do.” Caretaker started dragging Whumpee away, kicking, screaming and cursing.

“Caretaker! Caretaker please!” Whumpee screamed, pulling at Caretaker’s fingers, but they might as well have tried to punch a hole in a block of concrete. They fell dead weight but Caretaker continued on like they weighed nothing.

Whumpee threw their head over their shoulder, tears streaming down their face when they saw Other Whumpee at the bars to their cell.

Whumpee was about to scream and tell them that they’d come back for them, that they’d rescue them, but Other Whumpee beat them to it.

“If you’re getting some fool-hardy notion of rescuing me right now, forget it. Live for me instead.”

“Other Whumpee,” Whumpee cried as Caretaker dragged them up the stairs. “I’m so sorry.”

Caretaker marched on, heart breaking at Whumpee’s cries. They had come too far to stop now. They’d free Whumpee, that was what they came here to do.

They could make a new mission to free Other Whumpee once Whumpee was safe. Maybe take down Whumper and get Whumpee to testify… Caretaker didn’t falter as their brain formed a secondary plan.

Whumpee first.

Always.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A.N for WRITERS BLOCK — if you’re trying to escape that dreadful writer’s block, imagine yourself as a Caretaker (Whumper//whumpee) and write the scene!!!

This is how I would act as a Caretaker — selfish, determined and detached🫶 no heroics from me😌 #sorrynotsorry whumpee, RIP your friend ig?

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Secrets with the Shadowsinger

Summary:

Y/N, a representative from the Spring Court, and Azriel, the Night Court's spymaster, have been hiding their love due to the dangerous political climate and Tamlin's hatred for the Night Court. When their secret is discovered, Tamlin forbids Y/N from leaving the Spring Court. Azriel must risk everything to rescue her, leading to a dramatic confrontation and a daring escape. Their love, though hidden in the shadows, proves to be a powerful force as they navigate the perilous challenges that lie ahead.

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: None

The tension in the grand hall of the House of Wind was palpable. Representatives from the various courts gathered to discuss the increasing threats from Hybern. Y/N, the emissary from the Spring Court, stood tall and composed, her eyes scanning the room. She was known for her sharp mind and even sharper tongue, particularly when it came to dealing with the Night Court's spymaster, Azriel.

Azriel stood across the room, his shadows curling around him like a protective shroud. He was watching Y/N with an unreadable expression, their last argument still fresh in his mind. The animosity between them was well-known, their bickering a source of amusement and frustration for those around them.

"Y/N, perhaps you can enlighten us with the Spring Court's perspective on this matter," Rhysand said, his tone diplomatic.

Y/N stepped forward, her gaze flicking briefly to Azriel before she spoke. "The Spring Court believes that we must take a more aggressive stance against Hybern. Waiting for them to strike first will only lead to more devastation."

Azriel couldn't help but interject. "And rushing into a conflict without proper intelligence will lead to unnecessary casualties."

Y/N shot him a glare. "We need to be proactive, not reactive, Azriel. Your cautious approach will cost us valuable time."

Azriel's eyes narrowed. "And your reckless approach will cost us lives."

The room fell silent, the tension between them crackling like electricity. Rhysand stepped in, his voice calm but firm. "We need to find a balance between caution and action. Let's continue this discussion without the personal attacks."

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Fine. Let's focus on finding a solution."

As the meeting continued, Y/N and Azriel exchanged sharp looks and cutting remarks, their apparent dislike for each other on full display. But beneath the surface, a different story was unfolding.

Later that evening, Y/N slipped away from the House of Wind, making her way to a secluded spot by the Sidra River. She glanced around to ensure no one had followed her, then leaned against a tree, waiting.

A few moments later, Azriel appeared, his shadows swirling around him. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the harsh tone he had used earlier.

She looked up, her expression softening. "Azriel."

He moved closer, pulling her into his arms. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I hate fighting with you."

Y/N sighed, resting her head against his chest. "I know. It's necessary, though. We can't let them suspect anything."

Azriel's grip tightened around her. "I wish we didn't have to hide. I hate pretending to dislike you."

She smiled sadly. "It's the only way to keep us both safe. If anyone found out..."

He nodded, understanding the unspoken danger. "I know. But it doesn't make it any easier."

They stood there in silence for a while, the sound of the river flowing peacefully beside them. Azriel's shadows enveloped them, creating a cocoon of privacy in which they could share these stolen moments.

"Sometimes I wonder if this is worth it," Y/N whispered. "All the secrecy and the danger."

Azriel cupped her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. "You are worth it, Y/N. Every moment we have together is worth the risk."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she leaned into his touch. "I love you, Azriel."

He kissed her gently, pouring all his love and longing into that one kiss. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything."

As the night grew darker, they reluctantly pulled away from each other, knowing they had to return to their respective roles. Azriel took a step back, his expression torn. "Stay safe, Y/N. We'll find a way to be together openly someday."

She nodded, wiping away her tears. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," he said, his voice filled with determination.

With one last lingering look, Y/N turned and made her way back to the House of Wind, her heart heavy but filled with hope. Azriel watched her go, his shadows whispering words of comfort and resolve.

The next day, the tension in the grand hall was palpable once again. Y/N and Azriel resumed their roles, bickering and arguing as usual. But now, each cutting remark and heated exchange was laced with a secret understanding, a hidden love that only they knew.

As the discussions continued, Rhysand observed the two with a keen eye. He had long suspected there was more to their interactions than met the eye, but he respected their privacy and the roles they played.

The meeting ended with a tentative plan of action, a compromise that balanced caution and aggression. As the representatives began to leave, Y/N and Azriel shared a brief, knowing glance, a silent promise of love and support.

That night, as Y/N lay in her room, she clung to the hope that one day they could be together without hiding. Until then, they would continue to fight for peace and for each other, their love burning brightly in the shadows.

And as Azriel watched over Velaris from his perch on the roof, his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. No matter the challenges they faced, he knew they would find a way to be together. Their love was a force stronger than any enemy, and it would guide them through the darkest of times.

Weeks passed, and their secret meetings continued. But one fateful day, everything changed. Y/N returned to the Spring Court to report back to Tamlin, unaware that her secret had been discovered.

She was in her chambers when Tamlin stormed in, fury etched across his face. "Y/N, what have you done?"

She looked up, startled. "Tamlin, what's wrong?"

"Don't play dumb with me," he snarled, his eyes blazing with anger. "I've heard the rumors. You're involved with Azriel, the Night Court's spymaster."

Y/N's heart sank. "Tamlin, I can explain—"

"Explain?" he shouted. "You've betrayed us! Consorting with the enemy, my own sister!"

Tears filled her eyes. "I love him, Tamlin. You don't understand."

Tamlin's expression hardened. "I understand perfectly. You will not leave this court. You are forbidden from seeing him again."

Y/N's heart shattered. "You can't keep me here."

"Watch me," he said coldly. "Guards!"

As two guards stepped forward to escort her to a locked room, Y/N felt a surge of desperation. She had to get word to Azriel. She needed to find a way out.

Back in Velaris, Azriel was pacing in Rhysand's office when one of his shadows brought him the news. He felt a cold dread settle over him. "Tamlin knows," he said, his voice filled with urgency. "Y/N is in danger."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed. "We need to get her out of there."

Without wasting another moment, Azriel spread his wings and took to the skies, his shadows guiding him to the Spring Court. He moved swiftly and silently, his heart pounding with fear for Y/N's safety.

When he arrived, he slipped past the guards with ease, his shadows cloaking him in darkness. He found Y/N in a locked room, her eyes filled with fear and relief when she saw him.

"Azriel," she whispered, running to him.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "I'm here. I'm getting you out of here."

They moved quickly, Azriel using his shadows to cloak them both as they navigated the halls. But as they reached the courtyard, Tamlin and his guards appeared, blocking their path.

"You won't take her," Tamlin growled, his voice filled with rage.

Azriel's eyes blazed with determination. "I won't let you keep her prisoner."

Y/N clung to Azriel, her heart pounding. "Please, Tamlin. Let me go."

Tamlin's expression twisted with anger and pain. "You chose him over your own family. You betrayed us."

"I love him," Y/N said, her voice breaking. "And I can't stay here. Not like this."

Tamlin hesitated, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. But Azriel didn't wait. He spread his wings, his shadows enveloping them both, and with a powerful leap, they soared into the sky, leaving the Spring Court behind.

When they landed back in Velaris, Y/N was trembling with relief and fear. Azriel held her close, his shadows wrapping around them protectively.

"You're safe now," he whispered, his voice filled with love and determination.

Y/N looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I couldn't stay there, Azriel. Not without you."

He kissed her gently, his heart swelling with love and pride. "We'll find a way to be together. No matter what."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that the road ahead would be difficult. But their love was a force stronger than any obstacle, and together, they would face whatever came their way.

In the safety of the Night Court, surrounded by allies and friends, they knew that their love would guide them through the darkest of times. And as the stars sparkled above Velaris, they made a silent vow to protect each other and their love, no matter the cost.

[adnauseum11]

Defence Logistics (John Price x Reader)

2.6 k words

CW: swearing, canon-typical violence, minor character death

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, the Masterlist is pinned to my blog

I don't know why, but I've struggled with this chapter more than any others lately. The format I chose, the tenses, all of it was a puzzle I've been wrestling with. I don't know if it's my insomnia making a come back or what, but I have been agonizing on this one. Almost scrapped it altogether but have decided to be brave and let 'er rip. I found writing John without the warmth he has for his love a bit jarring, having the ability to turn off that part of yourself and focus on wrecking damage on others was hard to capture. If it's subpar I can only apologize lol - the next chapter is already coming easier.

Feedback welcome, if folks have any tips or suggestions - this is all for fun and improvement! (that's what I keep telling myself anyways lol)

Masterlist

John’s transfixed, watching rusty blood swirl around the shower drain, his mind still back in the field. He’s showering off before he drives home from the black site, situated deep in the English country side. He’s bruised in several places, with a fresh cut across his lower forearm where the Commander’s knife had connected during a wild swing. The dull throb pulls his brain back to the present moment, making him realize he’s slowly dripping blood all over his own feet. He lifts the cut above his heart and tries to refocus his thoughts. Kate’s dealing with the paperwork, folding their use of equipment into existing work orders. Gaz and Simon are also showering, medical and debrief waiting for them all on the other side of the steam. John’s mind keeps running over the events of the last few days, looking for anything he’s missed.

Thankfully, he and Ghost had arrived in Lithuania a whole day ahead of Gaz’s taskforce. They had driven across Vilnius in an SUV that had been held together with good intentions and baler twine, as far as John could make out. It had rattled something awful, to the point they had ditched it on a side road and hiked the last few rough miles, working their way across farmer’s fields dodging cattle and sheep in the early morning light. The Industrial section was set outside of city limits, in between old farms, where the smells and sounds would be less likely to disrupt the rhythms of life. The physical exercise helped re-center John’s mind on the task at hand. The way things had been left between himself and his love had unsettled him, giving his mind a stone to turn over instead of focusing on his immediate surroundings. He’d said more than he’d wanted to in explaining his departure, opening a can of worms he hadn’t intended and couldn’t put right before he left. If Ghost noticed John’s initial lack of focus, he said nothing.

The intercept point was more or less on top of the taskforce’s rendezvous point, in the back end of a massive sheep field with a small hut built out of field stones. By the time they arrived to do their recon, he had pulled himself together mentally and was feeling more present. John’s body remembered the training that had been drilled in to it, the rust of retirement flaking away as time stretched on. Soon it was nearly like he had never left.  He and Ghost discussed how to proceed in various probable scenarios as they checked the surrounding area.

How many people were involved in the revenge plot would depend on how the commander split his forces, to John’s mind. If he kept Gaz under his direct command there was likely no one else involved and Gaz was unlikely to survive the mission. If he sent Gaz with one of the other men, it was more likely they all were involved and it was more probable they would detain Gaz for information. Ghost agreed with John’s assessment, and they scouted the area before making a small camp a quarter of a mile from the rendezvous point to wait.

The downbeat of helicopter blades alerted them to the taskforce arriving a few hours after dark. John had signaled to Ghost, stubbing his cigar out and flipping the night vision goggles on. Then he and Ghost set out, snaking through the underbrush, using trees as cover as they moved in on the clearing and the stone hut. Once they got within a few hundred yards of the edge of the clearing they fanned out, Ghost swinging wide behind the unloading area.

They watched silently as five men disembarked using ropes, the wash of the helicopter blades obscuring any noise for several long minutes. Finally, it lifted, slowly claiming altitude again in the darkness, a handful of blinking lights the only outward signal of its location. The men had immediately moved on the stone hut as they landed one by one, quickly sweeping and entering it. John and Ghost had stayed in position, watching the hut for signs of life. Eventually the men exited, filtering into two separate groups. One group of two and another group with the remaining three. John located the Commander, pointing out the line of travel and giving a shove to one of his men. He squinted through his goggles, quickly identifying Gaz as the other man in the Commander’s trio.

As the groups split off into the darkness, the former Captain let the warmth of his anger wash over him again, keeping his movements purposeful and his mind on task. Staying a healthy distance behind, he stalked the trio as they hiked along the edge of the pasture, using trees and the waist high rock fence as cover. John tracked them easily with his night vision, quietly moving deeper in the woods. Ghost had shadowed the other group who were working their way further into the woods, opposite to where John and Ghost had camped and back towards the plant. When the Commander paused a few miles later near the badly rutted dirt road, their intent became clear to John.

The Commander’s group was set to create a diversion at the front gate of the chemical plant while the secondary team got in and collected the intel they were after. John waited until they were moving again to softly relay his plan to Ghost who responded with a subdued “rog that” in his ear. John moved incrementally closer on silent feet, waiting to see how they would go about creating their diversion. He watched as the Commander motioned Gaz to push forward, yanking a grenade from Gaz’s tac vest and pressing it into his hand. John had to force himself to wait, the instinct to get to Gaz pressing in on him tightly.

 The front gate was framed with two concrete pillars, into which were sunk the posts for retractable chain link fencing. Beyond that, a bar gate, manned by middling security guards wearing flak vests and holstered pistols. John had guessed they were there to keep the local gangs out more than they were prepared to deal with para-military operations. He was proven correct shortly after when Gaz lobbed the grenade in his hand at the chain link fence. It landed close enough to blow the gate off its track, making what was left of the twisted metal hang at an awkward angle. The explosion rocked the gate house, making the men inside shout and duck for cover. Gaz lobbed another grenade, this one blasting the gate off completely, the smoking metal smashing into the ground with a loud screech.

The men inside the gate house finally got themselves organized and started cautiously coming out, using the door as cover as they opened return fire into the darkness. John watched as the Commander gave Gaz’s shoulder a shove, jerking his head towards the gate house. John understood in a flash the Commander was trying to position Gaz where a stray bullet wouldn’t be blinked at if it connected. John was instantly moving, his feet creeping him closer to their position when Gaz did the unexpected. Instead of scurrying forward as they all assumed, he threw himself backwards, kicking his legs up to get leverage as he swung his body around to lock legs with the other soldier, standing beside the Commander. He went down in a heap, Gaz wrestling for top position for all he was worth.

John sprinted the last few yards, yanking the unsuspecting and now screaming Commander by the back of the tac vest before he could interfere. Chaos reigned as shots continued to pepper out from the gate house and the men shouted each other down. John hadn’t been fast enough getting his hands clear, the Commander yanking a Bowie knife free from his vest and swinging wildly over his head, trying to fend off the attack from behind. John grunted when the tip of the knife skittered across his arm but he didn’t stop in his action, drawing his rifle butt up and bringing it down on the Commander’s cheek as he stumbled backwards. The blow knocked him unconscious, his body falling the rest of the way into a heap.

Gaz was still scrambling on the ground with the bigger soldier, trading blows before John stepped in, levelling his pistol at the man’s head and pulling the trigger without hesitation. Gaz was instantly covered in a spray of brain matter and blood, and his hands came up instinctively, warding off another shot from the same direction. John had spoken up then.

“On your feet soldier.”

John had offered him a hand and it took Gaz’s brain a split second to recognize the ex-Captain.

“Cap - Laswell said you uncovered this shitshow. Wasn’t sure you were going to leave your new girl for this though.”

Gaz had extended his hand, letting John haul him upright. John had hummed non-committedly, not wanting to get into the specifics of his presence in the field. He reached into his vest and pulled out zip-ties, handing them to Gaz.

“Smart man to not let him get you in a bad position. Get him restrained for now.”

He muttered before tapping his coms.

“Ghost, how copy?”

There was a brief pause and then Ghost’s deep voice was in John’s ear.

“They’re almost at the target. The explosions and gunfire pulled all attention from the rest of the building. Moving fast.”

“Regroup with us at the vehicle once they’re successful. Anything goes off the rails, I want to know ASAP. Out here.”

“Rog that, Captain.”

John let go of the comm and lifted his rifle again, firing a few bullets into the air. This riled up the security guards again, setting off another round of wild shots into the now eerily quiet night.

“Strip him. No insignia.”

John gestured to the remains of the solider, blood and thick brain matter pooling on the ground. Gaz started ripping the patches off the dead man’s vest, stuffing them into a spare pocket of his own. John reached over, using the muzzle of his rifle to push what was left of the man’s head to the side, reaching in to the neck and yanking the dog tags off, handing them to Gaz as well.

“Help me get this one further into the woods.”

John kicked the foot of the Commander, and Gaz stood, taking an elbow on one side. They carried him backwards, his dragging feet going silent as they entered deeper into the woods. Gaz counted out a hundred steps and then they propped him up against a tree. John rummaged around, pulling his field first aid kit out and locating the smelling salts.

“We’re going to wake him up. I want to know how many people he’s involved in this revenge scheme.”

“Think he’ll tell us the truth?”

“Won’t know unless we ask, soldier.”

John broke the salts and waved them under the unconscious man’s nose. Gaz refastened his gloves, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the man wake.

“Oi, OI.”

John’s tone was abrupt, not giving the waking man time to adjust to his surroundings.

“Wha- “

“You wanted the 141, Commander, you’ve got ‘em.”

When it took the man a beat too long to respond, John reached out and slapped his cheek with his open palm, jerking his head back against the trunk of the tree.

“Wake up Sunshine. What do you want with the 141?”

The Commander’s words are slurred, likely concussed from the blow to his head.

“Killed my brother – “

“You want revenge.”

John’s tone was flat, emotionless. The words unamused and to the point.

“Justice.” The Commander coughed, his head lolling to the side as he squinted up at them. “But we make our own, don’t we Captain?”

“If we’re lucky. Any more of your men involved? You already got one man killed.”

“No.”

The word was spat out, the hatred tangible in his tone.

“Norris feeding you information?”

“Get fucked.”

John looked over at Gaz who nodded silently to John’s unasked question. John had raised his pistol and pointed it at the man’s foot.

“Norris feeding you information?”

“I said get fu – “

John unloaded the bullet into the man’s foot, the bones and flesh splintering inside his boot. A bloodcurdling scream rang out, bouncing off the trees, making it seem like it was all around them. John lifted the pistol to aim at the man’s knee, his face impassive as the scream died down, replaced with frantic wounded whimpering.

“Norris feeding you information?”

“Holy fuck, oh shit, wait, wait, wait please – “

John leaned in, speaking lowly for the man’s ears only, not sure how much Gaz had been told.

“You send a sexual predator to my woman’s place and expect this to go well for you?”

John didn’t wait for an answer and shot the man’s knee out, the spray of blood missing Gaz this time but catching the side of John’s chest. The howl the Commander let out was unearthly, birds startling from their nighttime roosts. Some deeply tucked away part of John that demanded the collection of a pound of flesh was perversely satisfied with the sound. John stepped away again, training his pistol on the heavily bleeding man’s uninjured foot. Gaz stood, emotionless as the ex-Captain moved around the prone man, the dark forest obscuring their movements from the road.

“Last chance before I even you up. Norris feeding you information?”

“He’s the one who told me about my brother being at Las Almas!! He’s the one.”

John had shot a look at Gaz before turning back to the now heavily wounded man propped up against the tree. He gestured to the zip ties behind the man’s back with the muzzle of his pistol.

“Cut him loose.”

“You’re going to pay for this – I’ll make sure everyone knows-”

John took aim and unloaded a final bullet into the man’s skull, shards of bone and brain mixing with the wood splinters and smoke in the air. Gaz startled but collected himself, stepping over to cut the ties off the body, pocketing them. The dead man’s arms fell forward once the tension of the plastic tie was released. John helped him strip any identifying insignia silently.

“You need to radio that you were ambushed, both men down. Do you have a secondary exfil?”

“Yeah, if we can get to Belarus, the location is a few clicks over the border.”

“We’ll take the vehicle as far as we can. Ghost is going to rendezvous with us, let’s move out.”

John had waited to loop Ghost in before reaching out to Kate with their new exfil plans - taking turns sleeping in the vehicle for the rest of night while pushing on to the border. This gave Kate time to organize their ride and run interference with the story of the ambush. Which is how John spent Christmas Eve, crammed into a dilapidated SUV in the rural area of Lithuania’s border with Belarus, amongst his mates eating cold MRE’s again, all of them tired but alive.

Simon’s deep rumble knocks him out of his mental reverie, calling him back to his current position under the steaming water of his shower.  So far, outside of the problem of Norris, the only thing John has been able to surmise he’s missed in the last few days is Christmas dinner with his love.

“Laswell said she’s sending the medic in after ye’ if ye’ don’t git yer ass in gear, Cap.”

John shuts the water off with a sigh and presses his lips together.

“That’ll do, Ghost. I'll be there shortly.”

Next Chapter

Ao3

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @chickennn-soupp

[deancaspinefest]

Two Princes

Author: andimeantittosting | Artist: Jay Valq (Jayjayverse)

Posting on Thursday March 28 

When Prince Castiel of Eden discovers his father’s deepest secret, he expects a far worse punishment than an arranged marriage to Dean of Winchester, who is only recently restored to legitimacy and is second to his younger half-brother in the line of succession. Though the courtiers of Winchester are suspicious of Castiel, he and Dean become allies and fast friends, until the unthinkable happens and the young crown prince falls deathly ill.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Prince Castiel has always known he would not marry for love. As the youngest son of King Charles of Eden, it was always understood that his eventual marriage would be one chosen for him, to seal an alliance or strengthen a trading bond, something that would benefit his kingdom—or his king.

He hadn't expected his marriage to be a punishment, but that is undoubtedly what it is intended to be.

While the king has been nothing but affable in his dealings with King John of Winchester, and has made sympathetic noises to the populace at large over bidding farewell to "our" son, Castiel knows his true opinion of Winchester—barely a kingdom, rough, uncouth, and uncultured. A forced sojourn would be torture for King Charles, and he expects the same of his son.

Then, too, there is the prospective bridegroom. If Winchester is barely a kingdom, then Dean of Winchester is barely a prince. Only newly restored to legitimacy due to pressure from his mother's people and preceded in the succession by his younger half-brother, his training is almost entirely militaristic, nothing in diplomacy or the arts.

“King John is making a special exception, you know. Winchester does not normally allow marriage between two men. I imagine Prince Dean is none too pleased about it."

So, it is to be a punishment on both sides, is it? Castiel had wondered. The only question remaining is what Prince Dean could have done to offend his king.

Castiel allows himself to seem suitably daunted by his father’s doom-laden pronouncements about the uncouth hellscape of Winchester. Then, at last, he is dismissed to his chambers to prepare for the journey. In truth, he is unconcerned by most of his father’s words. His years as a knight on Eden’s borders, before the discovery that had brought him back to the capitol, had involved far more rough living than even the most unrefined palace could provide. And given what he had discovered—well, he knew the fate that could befall those who offended the king, and when he had been summoned, he had been prepared to share it. A marriage pales in comparison. The only source of trepidation is the prospect of a reluctant spouse. But Castiel is prepared to turn a blind eye where need be in order to allow the marriage to proceed smoothly.

All in all, there are far worse punishments.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Thursday March 28)

[musewrangler]

“I don’t have a lot of time and I need to ask a favor,” Cody told him, sounding more weary than Fox ever recalled hearing.

“You and everyone else,” Fox replied gruffly. “What is it?”

“We…we found Tech.”

Fox had never known Tech all that well. His brother’s particular enhancements had been the sort of thing to drive Fox nuts, however valuable Tech’s skills were. But these days he valued every vod they found alive. And he knew that the Bad Batch had taken his loss hard.

“What do you mean? His body?” he clarified.

“Ah…in a way,” Cody replied, and Fox could hear other voices in the background. Across from him, Thorne made a motion with his hand, meaning wrap it up. They usually had about four minutes before they had to cut the signal to avoid detection.

“Give me the facts, Cody,” Fox snapped. “We’re on a clock.”

He ignored his brother’s offended huff.

“He’s alive, Fox. But—-he was captured after he fell on Eriadu. They…did things to him. Damaged his mind and brainwashed him.”

Fox felt a surge of white hot fury. Was this always the fate of the clones? To have their minds messed with? To be abused and twisted?

[aussiepineapple1st]

Day 6 - Rescue Mission

🏷️: @sunhatllama @maehemthemisfit @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders

[dellic]

Please watch the video, trying to spread awareness.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: The Big Ambitions of Baron Bittly

Monsters from the primal expanse of the Drovidiin Wilds have been appearing without warning in the kingdom's heartland, somehow teleported hundreds of miles to rampage through towns and cities. After more than one skirmish with the beats, your party has ventured to the bordertown of Thimblewell on the edge of the wilds, seeking answers.

Adventure Hooks:

Though the party have heard whisperings of the beast attacks before, their firsthand exposure to the phenomenon comes when they hear screams and cries coming from the town's fancy playhouse. An acid spitting drake has somehow found its way inside the building during the middle of the performance and its rampage threatens to bring the house down.

Tasked with tracking down a crew of bandits that've been plundering local caravans, the party's raid of the outlaw's encampment is thrown into chaos when one of their targets breaks open an innocuous crate, pulls out a glowing glass canister and smashes it in the middle of the melee: unleashing a beast in a burst of blue light into an already chaotic final battle.

The party find a strange tension when they arrive in the town of Thimblewell. Though the settlement has a long history of being beset by monsters from the primeval wilderness it borders, there've been no attacks for the past several years and no one seems to want to talk about why. Eventually a disgruntled former guardsman points them in the direction of the local landholder, an amateur mage with a reputation for conducting strange experiments. He fails to mention that said mage has a defence system built into his manse, and that he's been expecting the party's arrival for some time.

Background: Irnett Bittley was never a mage of large talent, both because he was unable to summon up the showy displays of elemental mastery that would have earned him a living as a court wizard, and because his self important streak made him too proud to ever suffer suffer through an apprenticeship. He was a great mage, destined for great things, and the fact that others couldn't see that was their failing.

Tired of being challenged or denied by people who genuinely knew better, Bittley picked up stakes and went to the boonies seeking to find a pond small enough to consider him a big fish. He found it in Thimblewell, a little town sorely in need of a handymage, and he could have been happy and well liked there if the need to be great wasn't etched on his soul. Thimblewell had a monster problem, and while Bittley was no battlecaster he did have a knack for bindings and containment spells. If he managed to catch a monster by supprise while it was distracted by the local millitia he could shrink it down and hold it in stasis, effectively defeating the monster by kicking the can indefinitely down the road.

The townsfolk heaped praised upon him for his heroics, only to have their goodwill spat right back in their faces as Bittley started asking for increasingly steep "donations" to keep his enchantments in place, all but threatening to release the beasts again if his impromptu tax wasn't paid. Fast forward a couple of decades and Baron Bittley has become rich enough to buy himself a title and become Thimblewell's defacto ruler.

Still not content to be a backwoods landbarron, Bittley's latest scheme is to sell his stockpile of captured beasts one by one to unscrupulous individuals who are in need of a good monster: thieves in need of a distraction, poachers and collectors trafficking in rare specimens, nobles who'd prefer an untraceable and indiscriminate means of assassination. This enterprise is making Bittley even more rich, but with success comes paranoia, and we all know how dangerous a paranoid mage can be.

Challenges & Complications:

1: The drake was intended as a means of assassination, targeted at a countess and her heir attending the playhouse's performance in one of the box seats. As the party runs in to save the screaming commoners, they'll potentially be diverted by the countess's guards, intending to save their employer's life before anyone else's. Saving the noble might earn them a rich reward at the cost of many lives, but choosing to look after the common people will earn them the ire of the acid-scarred heir, who watched them save the rabble while his flesh burned and his mother was crushed to death under rubble.

2: After the party have defeated the bandits, they'll find three more of those arcane canisters left in the box, each containing its own miniaturized monster waiting to be unleashed. The caravan the bandits robbed was smuggling these beasts to a buyer with dangerous aims, meaning the caravan's owners now have good reason to want the party silenced. Do the party report their findings? Extort those who hired them at the cost of a knife in the back? Or do they just take their offbrand pokeballs and run, dreaming of the chaos they can cause.

3: Baron Bittley knows the party is coming for him thanks to his spies in town, he also knows he could never hope to take them in a fair fight. Thankfully he’s got access to magic, so he doesn’t need to fight fair, allowing them into his home only to catch them in a trap that will shrink them down to a few inches tall, whereafter it’s a simple matter of mage-handing them over into the basement bound dowry chest/prison he’s made for all those in town who’ve dissented to his rule over the years.

Thankfully the tiny townsfolk have been working on a jailbreak for some time now, having painstakingly sawed their way out of the box while their inattentive overlord’s been distracted domineering the world outside. The greatest hurdle to their escape has been the wild landscape of the junk fulled manor basement, filled with various pests that’ve become arcanely mutated from the leakage from the mage’s lab on the floor above. The party will need to engage in some borrowers esque traversal across the basement, up through the walls, and into the lab if they have any hope of reversing their predicament.

Artsource 1

Artsource 2

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Early on in their friendship, there came a year where Geralt and Jaskier’s paths did not intersect at all.

Jaskier had full confidence in Geralt’s abilities, but he couldn’t keep himself from worrying when he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his witcher for 14 months! He had a dangerous profession. One full of blades and blood and enemies and monsters. What if his dearest friend and muse was dead?!?

He wasn’t ready to write that song! He didn’t think he ever wanted to write that song.

Thankfully, his witcher was not dead. They had a tearful reunion—well, Jaskier was the only one who cried, but it counted!—and continued their travels together.

However, the bard now insisted that they agree on meeting places before parting. He would not be deprived of his witcher again, thank you very much.

Jaskier also commissioned some magical items to give himself peace of mind.

Jaskier had a mage enchant a pair of talismans with dandelions painted on them. The enchantment was activated when a person smeared their blood over the talisman, which would then reflect the person’s health. If they were injured, the dandelions would wilt in proportion to the injury. If the person died, the dandelions died too.

So, Jaskier explained to his fierce friend that they would exchange talismans in order to stay informed on the other’s welfare.

There was a part of Jaskier that worried Geralt would refuse, but the witcher immediately unsheathed a knife to prick their fingers.

The talisman always brought comfort to Jaskier during their separations. It soothed him to have proof of Geralt’s wellbeing.

Even after getting his heart broken on the mountain, Jaskier kept his talisman. Him being sad and angry didn’t mean he was done caring. (Though sometimes he considered chucking the thing out a window)

Then, Nilfgaard captured Jaskier. Their mage made sure to disenchant Jaskier’s person to ensure that he didn’t have any means of calling for help or escaping.

Not even Geralt would know of his plight.

***

Across the continent, the moment the mage disenchanted Jaskier, Geralt watched the dandelions on his talisman burst into flames.

YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[agent-carvour]

[Schaffer and Axel had both received a phone call from Owen telling them that it was time and he was waiting for them at the WItchwood cabin. While waiting for them to appear, Owen sit's on the cabin's floor, cigarette in one hand, a bunch of hand-written notes in the other, and the black book on the floor in front of him. Instead of his usual jacket, he's wearing a black leather jacket with red stripes on the upper arms and red shoulder pads, and while the bags under his eyes reveal the stress he's been under recently, his eyes look awake, glowing with a confidence that hadn't been there during his last conversation with Schaffer.]

@peip-peeps @agent-black-heart

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumptober No. 1

Race Against Time

Search Party // Panic Attack // "If only we could hold on.”

TW: lady whump, blood, lady whumpee, multiple whumpees, male whumper

Welcome to Whumptober everyone 3:) I am doing all 31 days~

*~*~*~*~*

Caretaker kicked Whumper’s door to the cabin open, gun in hand, barrel finding Whumper’s chest immediately and locking on. Immediately. Because Whumper was sitting on the couch with a book in hand, waiting for Caretaker to arrive. At the commotion he raised his head and smiled.

“Ah, Caretaker, I was wondering when you’d come back.”

“Where is he?” Caretaker all but growled. Whumper didn’t answer. He tilted his head to the side, eyes locked on Caretaker’s the whole time, as if Caretaker wasn’t holding a gun that could kill him in heartbeat. A small squeeze of the trigger, so gentle a touch for such a big weight off her shoulders.

Caretaker could kill him, she realised. Right here, right now. She could be free of him forever. A tremor ran through her hands at the possibility. So tempting. So tantalising. If she killed him she wouldn’t get Whumpee back.

“You know you really shouldn’t aim those things at someone you don’t intend to shoot.”

Caretaker’s eyes flashed. “Try me.”

Whumper hummed, snapping the book shut and placing it on the table beside the couch. Caretaker swallowed, planting her feet on the ground, expecting him to stand.

Instead he crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee and leaning his elbow on the armrest, his hand propping up his cheek. Completely relaxed.

“Where’s Whumpee?” Caretaker ground out through clenched teeth. Whumper smiled coyly, his eyes the half lidded fox gaze, that saw everything. It was as if he could strip back skin with his gaze, peeling back layers and peeking inside you to see how you thought, how you felt, what made you tick, what made you scared, what made you scream. The world his playground; people his play things.

“Did you come alone?” Whumper asked instead. The question sent shivers down her spine because yes, yes she did come alone and he knew that. She could feel it. He just asked to let her know he knows.

Caretaker stepped closer, hopefully menacing, but her body was thrumming with a mixture of fear, anxiety and adrenaline. She had to keep her nerves for god sake, her hands clammy on the grip.

She clicked off the safety. “Where’s Whumpee?”

Whumper smiled. It made the hairs on her arms stand on end, at attention, every fibre of her being registering the threat he was to her. And he wasn’t even moving. He was just sitting. Fuck! She was freaking out.

“Look at you, Caretaker. Taking the initiative, I told you that you’re magnificent,” Whumper purred. “If you could see yourself right now you’d know what I’m talking about.”

Caretaker swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that formed in her throat. This is just his trick, his verbal disarmament. Reel you in with his honeyed words and once he has you, he…

Caretaker steeled her resolve, raising the gun a little higher, about to ask where Whumpee was again when Whumper stood suddenly and she faltered. His movements fluid like a cat, a deadly grace as he towered over her, humming. She fought the urge to step back.

“How long do you think a person can survive without breathing, Caretaker?” He asked, his voice rumbling in his chest, echoing off the wooden cabin walls and back to her ears.

“What?” She asked.

Whumper put his hands behind his back, observing her down his nose now. “How long do you think someone can survive without oxygen?”

Dread opened in her guy like a black hole, yawning and threatening to pull her organs into it. “Wh— what does that have to do with anything?” She stammered, hating her mutinous voice.

Whumper hummed, shrugging. “It may or may not have something to do with where Whumpee is,” he said casually. Caretaker paled.

“So would you say a minute? Two minutes? Say, how long was this delightful chat, hmm?” He crooned, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Whu—” Panic and rage blinded her at his words, heart jumping into her throat because how long have they been speaking? Was it longer than a minute? Two? Three? Can normal people go without oxygen for three minutes? Could Whumpee?

She abandoned the thought of shooting Whumper, clicking the safety on and opting instead to hit him with it. A blunt weapon, probably more effective than killing him if she wanted Whumpee back and he caught her wrist before it could make contact.

How— she didn’t even see him move. Her eyes widened as she yanked back, but her wrist didn’t budge from his grip. His eyes flashed down at her, tipping his chin back as a smirk slowly made its way across his face.

He reached his free hand to her face, cupping her cheek. She flinched at the contact, but Whumper didn’t make fun of her for it. She was trembling violently, her index finger pulsing, reaching for the safety to click it off and shot him because she had to get away—

Whumper yanked her closer, making her lose her balance and stumble forward into him. He plucked the gun from her hand, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “So bold of you, Caretaker. To think you could threaten me.”

Tears welled behind her eyes. “Please,” she begged. “Please just tell me where Whumpee is. Please let him go.”

Whumper tilted his head, regarding her. “And what do I get in return?” He mused but Caretaker didn’t have time to negotiate! Whumpee didn’t have time!

“Anything!” She blurted out, desperate, trying to pull her hand free from his grip. “Please! Please! He could be dying! He could be dead, please!”

“Anything,” Whumper repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. “How interesting. Tempting. Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Caretaker lurched forward, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, eyes wide. “Please! Anything! Please, just free Whumpee! Please!”

Whumper paused. “Are you begging?”

“Yes! Yes! I’m begging you, please!” She cried, her heart racing, feeling sweat bead on the back of her neck, horribly conscious about the passing seconds ticking by while Whumpee could be dead or dying, or unconscious.

Whumper’s smile glinted with a knife’s edge as he leaned his head down to hers. “You don’t look like you’re begging, Caretaker.”

Ice flushed her blood, her knees locking as her heart stuttered, shaking like a dog during halloween. Her mouth suddenly very dry, but she was hesitating. She couldn’t— no, for Whumpee.

Her face flushed with shame as she dropped to her knees in front of him. He still didn’t release her wrist, holding it above her head now, tears burst from her lower eyelids, spilling over her cheeks. She stared at his feet.

“Please,” she whispered, tightening her free hand into a fist on her thigh. “Please let him go.”

“Look at me, Caretaker,” Caretaker stared at the ground, she didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her cry. But Whumper didn’t let her have any of her dignity. He sat down and tilting her head up to look at him. “I’ll release Whumpee, if you take his place.”

Caretaker flinched. “What?” She asked with a stolen breath.

Whumper smiled, sitting back in the couch and propping his head up on his hand again, his eyes dancing with a pleased maliciousness.

“You heard me, Caretaker. Those are my terms. You for Whumpee,” he said, his eyes flicking to something behind her. “And I’d say you need to decide quickly.”

Caretaker searched his face for a trick, for a lie, for any hint that he was joking but he wasn’t. He was just watching her with his cut amber eyes, smirk on his face because he already knew her answer.

She looked away from him. “Fine,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “Now let Whumpee go.”

Whumper sighed. “Alright. But first, I need you to do something for me.”

Caretaker’s eyes burned, narrowing into a glare. “No, give me Whumpee! Now! He could be dead already!”

Whumper tightened his hand on her wrist but she didn’t wince or show it hurt. She needed Whumpee. To see him safe and sound. Whumper leaned forward, making her lean back almost falling if he didn’t have a tight on her wrist keeping her up.

His hot breath fanned her face, blowing a stray hair as he spoke. “I can leave Whumpee to die all I want, Caretaker. I’m the only one who knows where he is, now do you want to save him, or do you want to refuse me and waste more time?”

Caretaker pulled her wrist back and this time he let her. Still glaring, she kept his gaze. “What do you want me to do?”

“I need you to get me something from that room over there,” he said, nodding his head to the right. Caretaker turned her head to follow his order and nodded.

She got to her feet quickly, speed walking over, but Whumper stopped her. “Don’t you want to know what?”

“Tell me when I’m there,” she spat, throwing the door open. Hanging from his wrists, covered in blood with a blindfold and a gag stood Whumpee. His head hanging on his chest. Caretaker covered her mouth with her hands and screamed into them, running in and putting her hands on his face.

“Whumpee! Whumpee! Can you hear me?!” She pressed her ear to his chest, sobbing when she heard his heartbeat. He was alive. He was alive, he was alive, he was alive, he was alive.

“You know,” Whumper drawled from behind her. “If you’re coming in guns blazing, you really should do a quick check to see if the thing you want is already there.”

“You tricked me,” Caretaker cried, turning her furious gaze to Whumper. Instead, her eyes found the barrel of a gun.

He smiled lazily. “Not at all, to be fair, breathing is hard when you’re strung up like that, you wouldn’t think it, but your arms squeeze your chest and make it harder to breathe, especially when you’re gagged and dangling.”

“You’re a bastard,” she hissed.

“Compliments don’t get you anywhere with me, Caretaker, but you’ll learn. Maybe the first thing I’ll do to you is leave you like Whumpee here, hmm?” He asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Caretaker took a cautious step back, one arm stretched to protect Whumpee, keep him behind her.

“I don’t care what you do to me, just let him go.”

“Mmf?” Caretaker whirled to face Whumpee, eyes wide.

“Whumpee? Whumpee! Can you hear me?” She reached up and pushed the blindfold away from his eyes. “Whumpee. It’s me. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened, flicking to Whumper and back to Caretaker again, struggling in his chains. Trying to speak behind the gag.

“Hold on, I’ll—”

She felt Whumper’s presence behind her and jumped, going to hit him but he grabbed her by the back of her neck and squeezed until she stopped struggling. Whumpee’s struggles increased tenfold, screaming into the gag as Whumper leaned down to Caretaker’s ear.

A smile in his voice as he said, “or maybe, I’ll just keep you both.”

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Of Ghosts and Sparrows

A Festival of the Lost @d2artevents gift for @theavocadojam featuring their OC Kieran!

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there (Ao3 has chapters, Tumblr is all in one post.)

"Kieran," Eris Morn turned from the Lectern of Enchantment to face the approaching Hunter, staring at a point to the left of his face.  Kieran had not announced his presence nor told Eris who he was.  They were surrounded by other guardians on their way to request bounties from Eris.  Yet she moved directly to him without looking at him, as though she sensed who he was with otherworldly awareness.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," she intoned.  "I have need of your particular skills."  

She turned back to stare above the heads of the other guardians waiting for her attention.  

"Please.  Go."  She waved her hand in a cryptic motion above her Ahamkara bone.  "Return another time."  

Several of them turned away without a word.  One Titan's shoulders slumped.  They looked as though they were about to say something and then they transmatted away.

Eris stepped close and clasped Kieran Nor's arm.  The grip of her fingers through her glove felt almost like claws.   

"This is a matter requiring considerable discretion, and has the potential to involve significant risk.  I trust this is still acceptable to you?"

"For you, Eris?"  Kieran answered, warmly.  "Of course." 

Eris sighed deeply in relief.  "Come then.  Let us begin."

She muttered for a few moments and then a Hive portal appeared in the air before them both.  She held out her hand.  Kieran took it and they both stepped through.  

Kieran was not a nervous, twitchy type, but stepping through a Hive portal with no idea what was on the other side was always a bit of a nerve-wracking experience.  It was therefore quite a relief when the other side of the portal turned out to be nothing more ominous than the front of Spider's bar in the last city.  Not Kieran's favourite place, but better than a lot of the alternatives.

Eris paused at the threshold, placing her hand in a pocket at her side.  She seemed to be considering something and then she nodded, as though agreeing with someone Kieran could not see.  

"First, we will need information," she informed Kieran.  "An activity which may prove..."  Eris sighed and squared her shoulders as though steeling herself for something difficult.  "...vexing."

"Nevertheless," she continued, "it must be done.  And quickly.  I prefer your assistance here more for... emotional support than anything.  It would be... problematic... if the Spider were to not survive my inquiries, no matter how pleasurable that outcome might be for so many of us."

"...and if that doesn't convince him," they heard the Spider's voice as they approached.  "I have methods of... sweetening the deal, as you might say."  He was speaking to someone not physically present via a comms device.  "No! No! Nothing so barbaric as that, my friend.  Let's just say... it can be beneficial to be cooperative, for the future of ones hatchlings.  So much better to be contributing to their education rather than... the alternative."  The Eliksni crime boss chortled menacingly.

Eris made a low growling sound in the back of her throat as she walked closer.  Kieran let her take the lead.

The Spider's laughter cut off abruptly and he began coughing as Eris approached.  

"Eris Morn," he addressed her between coughing.  "To what do I owe the... uh... pleasure of your visit?"

Eris stared at a point to the left of the Spider's head.  "One of our... mutual associates recently ceased responding to communications with me while in the middle of a mission involving... the acquisition of... an item.  An item they previously consulted with you regarding locating.  I need to know where he went." 

"Ah, I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean." Spider leaned back, clearly amused.  

Beneath his helmet, Kieran ground his teeth.  

"All of my business dealings are registered with the Vanguard authorities." Spider said with a tone that could only be described as... slimy.  "Anything anyone might be doing for me will be recorded in their shipping logs."

Eris stepped closer.  

"Interactions with this particular individual would not be recorded in the shipping logs for your... businesses," Eris spoke calmly.  "He is a very private person.  A... law abiding citizen."  She paused briefly so the implication of her words could sink in.  "He... pays his taxes." 

"Oh!  That one!  Yes... yes of course... but I am sure you understand... as this is a private citizen, I can't go around discussing his uh... personal business.  Especially with a member of the Vanguard special forces, you see.  That would be... very uncouth of me, no?"  He chortled to himself at his own joke.

Eris stepped closer.  Spider's two personal guards stepped closer as well.  Eris glared at each one in turn.  They both took a step back.  

"I am not coming to you as a member of the Vanguard," she continued.  "I am coming to you as his friend.  He is in need of assistance.  The nature of his transactions with you need not be disclosed.  Simply his whereabouts."

The Spider coughed again.  No.  He was laughing.  "That one can take care of himself, my dear.  And if he somehow doesn't?  Ha!  We're all a lot better off."  

Eris stepped closer.  

Spider stopped laughing.

"Look," Spider said quietly, leaning down toward Eris, his voice condescending.  He held out an empty three-fingered hand toward her.  "Information isn't free, my overly fleshy three-eyed friend.  Surely there is... something you can... offer me... for my trouble."  The Spider's four eyes looked Eris up and down, his fingertips following his eyes in the air as he chortled to himself.

The temperature of the room dropped by several degrees.  Kieran felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.  

Eris leaned even closer to the Spider and placed her free hand in his.  

Kieran could not hear the exchange but the Spider tensed and he moved to lean back, away from Eris.  Her eyes flashed and the ball of Soulfire in her hand began to rotate.  

She gripped the Spider's hand tightly as he tried to pull away, drawing her hand down and forcing him to remain near enough to hear her whispers.  

The Spider's four eyes went wide as she continued muttering in his ear.  The ghost shell he was holding in another hand fell to the floor with a loud clatter.  

Eris' lips continued moving, whispering something only the Spider could hear, her hand beginning to twist his beyond the normal range of motion for an Eliksni wrist.

"He's on the Tangled Shore!" the Spider blurted out, his voice tinged with panic.  "I'll send you the coordinates I gave him!  Please!  Please just leave me alone!"

The Ahamkara bone ceased its rotation.  Eris released the Spider's trapped hand and stepped back.  "Thank you," she said tersely, finally speaking at a volume everyone else could hear, then she turned to Kieran.  "We can leave now."  

Kieran looked from Eris to the Spider, breathing heavily and shaking in his chair, visibly cringing away from the three-eyed woman as Eris muttered something in the guttural language of the Hive.  Another portal appeared.  The guards flinched and backed away from it.  

Spider said something in Eliksni as they walked through.  Kieran wasn't certain if it was a curse or an appeal to some higher power for protection.  It may have been both.

***

The other end of the portal was neither the Moon nor the Tangled Shore. Kieran wasn't sure what he's been expecting, but the Gambit ready room on the Derelict wasn't it. 

Eris walked quickly to a door that was always kept sealed during Gambit matches.  The door opened immediately upon her approach. 

"Whoa." Blinx appeared at Kieran's shoulder. "Is the Drifter  going to help us rescue this person too?" the ghost asked. 

"The answer to your question is highly dependent upon his level of consciousness and state of injury when we find him." Eris intoned. 

"Wait," Blinx asked his eye flickering, "You mean to tell us this rescue operation is *for* the Drifter?" 

Eris turned partway down the corridor and stared at the wall. "Is that a problem, little light?" 

"No, Eris," Kieran answered. "That's fine. Of course we'll help. We're just not used to the Drifter needing rescuing." 

"Nor is he, I suspect. But I am certain he will be grateful for it.  Now follow. Time is of the essence." 

Eris made her way through the ship with the ease of someone who was completely familiar with it.  Strange heaps of unidentifiable junk were piled up in odd assortments, visible through the doorways of various rooms.  They walked through a surprisingly clean and well-kept galley area and then past what had to have been a workshop, although from what Kieran could see in the brief parts of it he saw, it was a workspace which seemed to be attempting the violation of every known safety protocol simultaneously.  

Moments later they were on the Derelict's small makeshift bridge. 

Kieran eyed the kit-bashed controls and clumsily soldered circuitry, noting one panel that was occasionally spitting sparks. 

"Can you fly this ship, Eris?" he asked, somewhat concerned. 

"It would be madness to try," Eris answered with a wave of her hand.  "The Drifter's... modifications are far from standard.  However, there is one other individual who knows how to operate this ship."

She reached into her pocket and then withdrew her hand 

A strange ghost lay shuddering in her palm.  Its badly welded shell twitched as it rose and floated to the controls. 

"Is that..."  Kieran's voice trailed off as he watched it.

"Yes," Eris answered.

"I've never seen the Drifter's ghost."  Kieran told her.

"Most have not.  He prefers it that way.  However, circumstances are extenuating at the moment and I am certain he would prefer this to the alternative.  When I sent my request to you, I noted how highly I valued your competence and your discretion.  I will hold you to that."  She turned to Blinx. "Both of you."

"Of course, Eris."  Blinx said, eyeing the Drifter's ghost from Kieran's shoulder suspiciously.

"Have the Spider's coordinates arrived, little light?" Eris asked the ghost.  

It made no sound as it turned to face her, but its red eye-light blinked blue and then red again.  

Eris nodded.  "Proceed."

The Drifter's ghost hovered over the controls and expanded its shell, rotating slowly.  

From this view it was clear to Kieran that the small ghost's shell was amalgamated from the shells of several other ghosts.  Something told both Kieran and Blinx that those shells were probably not uninhabited when whatever had been done to the Drifter's ghost had occurred.

The Derelict lurched and made a low grinding noise.  Eris watched dispassionately, cradling her glowing orb.

"Is it... supposed to sound like that?"  Blinx asked. 

"I do not know," Eris intoned.

The Drifter's ghost emitted a single tone and turned to Eris.  Its light blinked blue and then red again.  It turned back to the controls.  

"Apparently, yes." Eris translated.   

Engines that sounded like they were about to die began to rev up and then, rattling, the ship began to move.  Then it moved faster.  And then it moved very fast.  

A loud banging erupted from somewhere deep within the vessel.  In front of them the Reef came rapidly into view.  Moments later they were in a stable position above the Tangled Shore.  

"What... powers this thing?" Blinx asked.  

"I have no idea," Eris replied.  "The Drifter would undoubtedly advise you that you do not wish to know.  However, you may ask him when we find him, provided he is in a condition conducive to responding."

The Drifter's misshapen ghost emitted the same tone it had before and flew to a console next to where Eris was standing.  A projection of the terrain on the surface appeared with a large red splotch covering over half of it.

"I see," she said solemnly.

"Can the Drifter's ghost lead us to him?"  Kieran asked.

"That would be ill-advised." Eris said.  "I was entrusted with him for a reason.  Both he and I suspect the Drifter is in a darkness zone which would prevent resurrection and... when I lost contact with him, he was not alone.  Based upon the partial conversation I heard, I suspect he may have run afoul of some of his... former associates."

"You were talking with him when he lost contact?"  Blinx asked.

"Yes."

"No wonder you're worried about him."  Kieran said.

"Indeed."

The Drifter's ghost flew back to Eris' open hand.  She placed it once more in her pocket.  

"Prepare yourself," she intoned.  "The transmat is... firing."

***

Kieran materialized just outside of an abandoned building on the Tangled Shore.  

"I have mapped out a route which should bring you to the coordinates Spider has provided," Eris spoke through the communicator in his ear. "That will be where he started.  It is my hope that we will be able to intuit his route once you arrive."

Kieran nodded and hopped onto his Sparrow.  

Eris' path was winding, but uneventful.  A few of the turns were quite sharp and there were several jumps, easy enough for someone as good on a Sparrow as Kieran, and very comfortable at the quick but relaxed speeds they were traveling.  

"You know," Blinx said after another long but relatively gentle jump over a gap, "With all the jumps and turns and interesting terrain, if it weren't in an active war zone, this would make a fantastic Sparrow Racing track."

Kieran nodded.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm, little ghost," Eris answered in Kieran's ear, "Please, both of you, remember to keep your wits about you.  We do not know what tricks may await you ahead."

Kieran's bright red Sparrow slid to a stop between the wreckage of two Ketches.  The door in front of them was sideways from its original configuration and looked like it would lead them to one of the main areas of the larger ship.

"All right, Eris." Blinx said through the comms.  "We're at a locked door but I can't seem to get a read on the security protocols for it at all.  It must have some really complicated shielding.  Nothing's coming up on my scans at all.  This might take a while."

"It is open."  Eris said.  "You can proceed through."

The mechanism panel had a small red light glowing, clearly indicating access was denied.  

Kieran and Blinx looked at each other and then Kieran pushed on the door.  It swung open soundlessly.

"That's clever," Kieran said with a smile.

"The panel is... fake?"  Blinx asked, incredulous.

"The Drifter calls it... security through obscurity..." Eris intoned in his ear.  "His tricks are often very banal but... still manage to be remarkably effective at times." 

Kieran pulled the door shut as Blinx illuminated the area.  They were in a short hallway.  The other end was a crumpled mess.  

"Are you seeing this, Eris?"

"Yes.  Look slightly to the right.  Can that panel be moved?"

Kieran lifted up some debris and sure enough, they were greeted by an open air vent.  

"We sure do spend an awful lot of time crawling through air vents." Blinx said quietly as Kieran made his way through.

"A common hazard of the profession.  I did so as well when I was a guardian."  

The other end of the vent had no covering and they were able to crawl out without issue into the wreckage of the ship's bridge.  

Long dead Eliksni corpses in various states of crumbling decay lay around them.  

"What happened here?"  Kieran asked.

"Mutiny," Eris said in their ears.  "A betrayal long since past.  Move swiftly, Kieran.  You are close now.  Be wary."

There was a dim light up ahead.  As Kieran rounded a corner, he understood why.  The top (or rather the side) of the ship was completely gone.  Cool light splashed down onto the bones of the gutted Ketch cargo bay from the stars above.  Vehicles and crates were strewn around.  Some were mostly intact, others were in pieces or simply piles of twisted metal.  A hole in the other end of the Ketch opened onto a stretch of hard rock butting up against a sheer cliff face.

"Maybe he went another way?" Blinx asked hopefully.

"No."  Eris' voice was gentle but insistent.  "Look closely.  The Drifter is a creature of obfuscation and guile.  It is likely his trail has been obscured by his own hand."

Kieran scanned what was left of the large space and then tensed, his scout rifle in his hands ready to fire.  An eerie flicker in the corner of his eye.  When he turned to look, it was gone.  He shook his head.

"Did you see that?" he asked Blinx.

"See what?" 

"For a moment I thought I saw something but now it's gone."

"Marauder?"

"No, it was pale and... almost glowing?  Sort of Eliksni-shaped?  Never seen anything like it."  Kieran walked toward the spot he'd been pointing at and then gave an exasperated sigh.

"What now?"  Blinx asked.

Kieran groaned.  "If there's one thing I hate, it's improperly parked forklifts."  

Kieran pointed at the Eliksni version of a forklift.  It was oddly intact and was on a piece of wall which had buckled inward, causing the forklift to be tilted at an odd angle.  

"This whole place is trashed and we're concerned about how a forklift is parked?" Blinx asked.

Kieran walked toward it.  "Look at this. It can't have fallen that way.  Someone parked it like this after the crash.  And they parked it on an incline.  You do not park forklifts on an incline.  They can roll.  It's a massive hazard.  Whoever did this has no regard for safety."  He climbed into the driver's seat with a sigh.  

"You're not seriously repositioning it now, are you?"  Blinx asked, incredulous.

"It bothers me."  Kieran said.

"Hey, that's weird," Blinx said over his shoulder.  "Someone's already hotwired it."

Kieran took the exposed wires and tapped them together, starting the vehicle.  

A loud and insistent beeping echoed through the wreckage of the ship as Kieran began backing the forklift up.

"What are you doing?" Eris asked through the comms.  "This noise will carry far!  It will give away your position."

Kieran got out and stepped away from the forklift and examined what it had been parked on top of.

"We found where he went, Eris."  Blinx answered, illuminating a gaping hole in the floor.  

"Hmmm... Very well.  Go swiftly.  We do not know what attention you may have attracted from the surrounding area."

Kieran jumped down onto a rock ledge that was barely visible in the darkness below.

***

The hollowed out area beneath the wreckage of the Ketch contained a lot of debris.  As they continued through, Kieran asked Eris.  "Why haven't the Eliksni salvaged this yet?  There's a lot here."

"Fear." Eris answered.  "The location, and its history, is known to be cursed.  There are stories that any who enter do not leave alive."

"Eris, don't you think we should have known that before coming here?"  Blinx' light flickered.

"It is baseless superstition.  You have nothing to fear from the ghosts of a past that is not even yours, but be cautious.  You are close, now."

Kieran paused, his foot in the air.  Then he stepped back.  

"What is it?"  Blinx asked and then hovered down at knee-height to look.  "Oh wow.  That's devious.  It's a tripwire grenade but the laser has been disabled.  It's using an actual tripwire.  Pretty much invisible in this light.  

"Sounds like Drifter," Kieran said.

"Yes," Eris agreed in his ear.

Kieran stepped over it and Blinx continued to scan the environment as they went.

"Scorch marks."  Blinx said, quietly.

"That is to be expected at a crash site," Eris intoned.

"Yes but, these are recent," Kieran said, placing a hand on some blasted metal embedded in the rock.  "Still warm.  Solar energy."

"And this metal is shattered, as though it were made very cold and brittle just before something impacted it."  Blinx added.

"Stasis," Eris said in Kieran's ear.

Kieran nodded.  

Moments later they found the bodies.  Eight of them.  Seven were dressed entirely in black, most had been downed with headshots.

One lay apart from the others, dressed in green clothes with distinctive fur-covered and spiked pauldrons.  

"Found him!"  Kieran told Eris as he knelt beside the Drifter.

Then Kieran very still as the barrel of an extremely familiar hand cannon pressed up under his chin.  He raised both of his hands slowly.

One eye swollen shut, one eye half open, his face a mask of blood.  The Drifter looked up at Kieran and brushed his finger lightly on the trigger of Trust.  "Who the hell are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  

"We're here to help, Drifter."  Blinx said from behind Keiran while keeping a respectful distance.  "It's Kieran and Blinx.  Do you remember us?"

They were all briefly bathed in a malachite-green glow from somewhere behind them nearby.

"Shiny... Red... Daito cape...Hung Jury... and... my gun.  Yeah.  Ok."  The Drifter's hand relaxed and he pointed the hand cannon away from Kieran.  "The hell are you doing out here?"

"I sent them," Eris intoned as she knelt next to Kieran.

"Moondust?" the Drifter's voice creaked.  "Izzat you?"  He squinted with the one eye he could see through.

"Yes," she answered.  "How badly are you hurt?"

"Uh... Pretty bad."

The Drifter's ghost appeared next to Eris and emitted its single tone.  

"That won't work here," the Drifter said to his ghost.  "Good thing too, or those assholes would'a got back up again too."  He pointed to the other bodies nearby.  

Eris sat still for a moment, muttering something unintelligible and then sighed deeply.   

"It is as I suspected.  I was able to track you externally through Kieran in order to make a portal here but it closed immediately behind me.  I cannot get a lock on the Derelict from this location to teleport us out.  We will need to make our way out on foot until we are clear from whatever is interfering."

Eris began to mutter and scratch something into the ground around them with a sharp stone.

"What are you doing?"  Kieran asked.

"Stabilizing him," Eris answered.  

"You can heal people with Hive magic?" Blinx asked, in awe.

"No,"  Eris answered. "Nothing about the Hive is healing.  But, this can help to fortify him until we get somewhere where his ghost can use its light." 

"You using Hive magic on me again, Moondust?" 

"Are you complaining?"  Eris asked.

"Nope.  Last time was fun."

"Ugh."

He grinned and then looked over to Kieran and Blinx.  "I fell off a cliff and she levitated me to keep me from breakin' my neck.  Hangin' around a three-eyed witch has its benefits."

"Tsch." Eris made the sound dismissively.

"What happened here?" Kieran asked while Eris worked.  

"So... Spider got intel on this place," the Drifter began.  "It was hidden by an anomaly and that anomaly went away.  No idea why.  Didn't ask.  Maybe should have.  Anyway, there's a thing here that means a lot to some people.  Spider sold me the details and I came out to get it.  But... I'm guessin' I wasn't the only one Spider sold that info to.  Which is something he and I will need to have a little chat about later.  Anywho, some old uh... associates of mine apparently either knew what I was after, or knew I was after it."

Eris continued muttering and scratching as the Drifter talked to Kieran.

"They came here but they didn't know where to look," he explained.  "We uh... talked a bit... came to an agreement that I'd show 'em where the good stuff was as long as I got the one thing I came for.  Then, of course, they didn't hold up their end of the bargain.  Which... is only fair since I wasn't planning on holdin' up my end neither.  Wasn't expectin' the vengeful ghosts, though."

"Vengeful ghosts?" Blinx asked, looking around, worried.

"Yeah.  I dunno where they went but they sure didn't want their stuff plundered.  They were weirdly fine with me.  But those jerks," he pointed at the bodies, "figured that since the ghosts weren't comin' after me, they must be somehow workin' for me, so they opened fire."

"When you say ghosts.  Do you mean like me?"  Blinkx asked

"Nope."

"Do you mean Scorn?"  Kieran asked.

"Nope.  Ghost-ghosts.  Dead Eliksni. Spooky shit."

Eris sighed.  "You did not see ghosts.  I have done what I can, but you are still quite badly injured and it is likely making you delusional."

"I mean yeah, sure, maybe, but this was before the firefight."

"Delusions can affect one's memory of events," Eris told him.  "Hold still a moment while I immobilize your leg.  It is broken in several places."  Stasis filled Eris' hands and she encased the Drifter's left leg in crystal from the ankle to the hip.  

"I saw ghosts, Moondust.  They were there.  I dunno why you think they weren't.  You talk to dead people all the time."

"It's quite different."

Kieran and Blinx watched them bicker with quiet amusement.

"Is it?  This is like that time you said the pumpkin heads didn't exist... when I saw 'em when I was running tactical on haunted lost sectors."

Eris sighed again.  "I said that because the Headless Ones are a myth.  They do not exist."

"We havin' this argument again?  Right now?" the Drifter asked, almost seeming to draw strength from the opportunity to irritate Eris.  "They do exist.  I saw 'em.  Glint saw 'em.  Eido saw 'em.  Lots of guardians have seen 'em.  Hell, even Immaru saw 'em."

"Immaru's endorsement does not help your case," Eris intoned.

"Kieran?" the Drifter asked, "Surely you've done Haunted Lost Sectors before.  You've seen pumpkin heads right?  Back me up here."  

Before Kieran could answer there was a loud explosion near the entrance to the area they were in under the Ketch.

"Oh hey, that's my tripwire!" the Drifter said cheerfully.

"We are not alone," Eris said ominously.  "Do your 'ghost-ghosts' also set off tripwires?"

"Nope."  

"We should go," Blinx said quietly.  

***

They heard scurrying sounds approaching them.  Kieran stood, weapons ready.  Several Screebs scuttled over the wreckage near where they'd entered.  

Kieran began shooting.  

The Screebs exploded in clusters like loud, deadly, bubble wrap, leaving behind splotches of Dark Ether.  

"Good thing you brought him," the Drifter said.  "He's a great shot."  

"I am aware," Eris answered tersely as she helped the Drifter to stand.  

Eris and the Drifter hobbled farther into the wreckage under the Ketch as Kieran walked backwards while following them, gunning down Scorn as they approached with his Hung Jury scout rifle.

"Where are they coming from?" Blinx asked.  "And why now?"

"They were likely alerted to our presence from the noise made when the forklift was moved," Eris called out over the Drifter's shoulder.

"Hey Drifter," Kieran called back while reloading.  "You have a way out of here other than where all the Scorn are piling in?"  

"Nope!"

"That's a lot of Scorn," Blinx said, his voice worried.  "I don't think we have enough ammunition to shoot our way out."

"Oh great!" Kieran said, gunning down two Raiders and a Ravager as he continued backing up.  "Any other ideas?"

"Impossible," Eris said quietly behind him.  

"I told you!" the Drifter's voice was weirdly gleeful. "Now do you believe me?"

Kieran glanced back to see what they were talking about and felt his skin crawl.  A pale apparition of an Eliksni captain shimmered before them.  It floated in the air and raised a ghostly Arc blade, using it to point at a hole in the rock which was partially obscured by a twisted metal door.   

Kieran returned his focus to what was in front of him, continuing to fire at the oncoming Scorn.  "That a way out?"

"I dunno, hero," the Drifter called back, "but it's better than here.  Let's go!"

Eris peered at the ghost while she helped the Drifter limp through the hole.  

"Ether tanks!" the Drifter called out once he was through the entrance.  "I like it!"  

Sure enough, as soon as he'd cleared enough Scorn to turn and run after them through the hole, Kieran saw a pile of Ether tanks just inside what looked like a hallway from the crashed Ketch above them.  There was also a ramp leading up to another sideways corridor.  

"You know what to do with that, right hotshot?" the Drifter called out from farther ahead.

"Hell yeah," Kieran grinned and, backing into the second doorway.  He pulled out his own copy of Trust and fired a Solar round into the Ether tanks.   

The explosion rocked the Ketch.  

Kieran peeked around the doorway as the smoke cleared.  The opening they'd come through was now effectively closed off with wreckage and rubble.  

"Why is it assisting us," Eris asked, as she helped the Drifter to follow the Eliksni ghost.  

Kieran joined them as the Drifter pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle from his back pocket.  "Probably because she knows I'm gettin' this back to where it belongs."

The cloth had a distinctive, yet unfamiliar pattern embroidered on it and it shimmered strangely.    The Drifter unfolded it with care.  Within it was a necklace, worked out of some metal Kieran could not immediately identify, containing several unknown stones.  

"What is it?" Eris asked.  

The apparition hovered nearby.

"This... is an Eliksni heirloom," the Drifter explained quietly.  "Made in Riis."  

"The Eliksni homeland." Kieran said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yup, but even more important is the cloth around it.  That's a eggcloth.  Now, I don't pretend to know the full significance of this but the reason it's so important is because of whose eggcloth it is."  

"His mother," Eris whispered.

"Yup," the Drifter said quietly, nodding at the ghost.  The ghost bowed slightly back.  The Drifter folded the necklace up in the cloth again carefully.  

"But... how does she know?" Eris asked.  "Why does she trust us?  We are human."

"I have no idea," the Drifter said.  "But she knows."

The ghost hovered closer to them and then reached out one of its four hands. One of its three fingers pointed to the Drifter's left wrist.

The Drifter leaned back against what seemed like a wall, but which was actually the floor of the sideways corridor they were standing in, and took his arm off from around Eris' neck.  He pulled off his gauntlet and then gave a short laugh, pushing up his sleeve so that Eris, Kieran and Blinx could see.  

Around his wrist were several colourful braided strings attached to a flat bead with the house of light symbol carved into it.  

"Eido's friendship bracelet?" Eris asked, confusion in her voice..

"Made one for you too, did she?" the Drifter asked her.

"Yes," Eris said, pulling off her own gauntlet and placing her wrist next to the Drifter's, showing a similar braided bracelet with a nearly identical bead in the middle.  "The children in the last city taught her how to make them and she tied it on to me herself."  

Kieran gave one more glance back toward the caved-in entrance to make sure no more Scorn were approaching before he, too, pulled off the armour from his arm to display a similar trinket wrapped around his own wrist as well.

"Me too."

Eris tilted her head.  "But... why does this matter?"

"Well, if I had to guess," the Drifter said, replacing his gauntlet.  "Our friendly ghost here is the owner of the necklace, and the eggcloth.  Which would make this fine incorporeal lady..."

"Innaks," Eris intoned as she looked upon the ghost.  "Eido's grandmother." 

"But, isn't Eido adopted?" Blinx asked.

"I don't think that matters to the Eliksni," the Drifter answered.  "Pretty sure this is a love thing and an honour thing.  And Eido is Mithrax's daughter in every way that counts."

The ghost nodded and then pointed to a doorway with one of its Arc knives.  A moment later it flickered out of sight.  

"Look, I don't know about you," the Drifter said, "but grandma's two for two at this point, and I'm inclined to believe she's leadin' us outta here."

"I concur," Eris said, lifting his arm over her shoulder so she could help him hobble once more.  "Let us proceed."  

***

The corridor was crumpled in several places, and they had to squirm through some tight spaces, but eventually they found themselves looking over the entrance that first the Drifter, and then Kieran, had come in by.  

Inaaks' ghost had not reappeared.

Kieran's bright red racing sparrow was surrounded by Scorn. As Kieran looked around, he could see that the route he'd taken to get to the wrecked Ketches was likewise occupied with a large number of the rotting reanimated Eliksni.  

"They're waiting for us." Blinx said quietly.  

"So it seems," Eris intoned.  

"Hey Three-Eyes, the Drifter whispered, "Can you portal us out yet?"

Eris shook her head.  "No.  I suspect the interference I am dealing with will correspond to the edge of the Darkness zone where I was able to transmat Kieran in."

"Right," the Drifter said.  "So uh, how many people can that sparrow hold, hero?  And can it go fast enough when it's overloaded to get us through that mess?"

"It can go fast enough," Kieran said, his voice smug.

"It'd be pretty tricky to drive through at top speed with three people through all that," the Drifter continued.  "You confident you can pull that off?"

Kieran smirked under his helmet. 

Blinx sighed.  "Yeah.  Yeah he is."

Eris' frozen Ahamkara bone ping-ponged off of the six Scorn Lurkers and the Abomination immediately surrounding the Sparrow.  The Drifter tossed a Coldsnap grenade to immobilize the rest.  Kieran fired Trust from the hip, shattering most of the hostiles as Eris and the Drifter scrambled to move as quickly as the Drifter's broken leg would let them toward Kieran's bright red Sparrow.

"Ooooh," the Drifter said as Eris helped him sit down.  "This is a nice ride."

"Appreciate later," Eris said curtly and slid behind him, placing the bulk of her weight against him rather than on the Sparrow seat so that there would be enough room for Kieran.  

Kieran squeezed in front just as the Scorn farther away started running toward them.  The Sparrow's engine revved and began to purr.  

Eris pulled out her Loud Lullaby hand cannon and took out two Screebs in their immediate path.  

Kieran's Sparrow began to pick up speed.

As they accelerated past another Scorn Abomination, a jade coin made a loud "ding" as it struck the Abomination's riveted forehead. The large Scorn exploded in a burst of Solar energy, immolating it and everything around it.  

"You weren't kiddin' about the speed, kid," the Drifter laughed as they banked hard to the left and slid half-way up a wall.  "This is great!  Woooo!"

The three of them ducked as Kieran brought them through a set of large pipes half embedded in the ground which, conveniently, gave them cover from everything shooting at them.  This ended up being a good move as even more hostiles began to swarm toward them, opening fire.

However, the one thing the Scorn seemed not to have anticipated was someone crazy enough to drive through the twisted winding path out of here at insane speeds, taking turns like a maniac, soaring over gaps with jumps that would have been challenging for one rider to land safely at those speeds, never mind someone carrying two additional people.  

"Hooo-ee!  I haven't seen driving like this since... ever! If I ever manage to get Sparrow racing shoehorned into Gambit you're gonna clean house, kid!" the Drifter shouted into Kieran's ear as they skidded sideways, drifting past yet another blockade, before making a sharp turn and skimming over a heap of wreckage.

They were almost out of the darkness zone when Eris grunted and slumped against the Drifter.  

"Moondust?"  The Drifter's voice held a tinge of panic.  It was the first time Kieran had ever heard that tone from him.  

Kieran opened up the throttle as the Drifter reached back with hands covered in Stasis to freeze Eris Morn to him so she would not fall.  

One final leap through the air and they were back where they'd started.  

Kieran's Sparrow landed gently, sliding sideways to a clean, perfect stop.  

The Drifter's ghost tumbled out of Eris' pocket and opened its twitching shell, scanning her as the Drifter turned in the seat to help Kieran to get Eris off the Sparrow and on the ground.  

"Talk to me, Three-Eyes," the Drifter muttered to her as he and Kieran tried to figure out where she had been hit.  "Say something."

Eris growled.  Then she grabbed the front of his coat tightly in her fist.  

"Insufferable," she mumbled through blood stained lips. 

The Drifter grinned at Kieran, relief apparent in the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.  He looked up at his ghost.  "You, ghost!  You able to get a signal up to the Derelict from here?"

The Drifter's ghost emitted its single tone in acknowledgement and blinked its light blue.  

"Good."  He nodded to Kieran.  "Transmat Firing!"

***

"Stop coddling me!" Eris snarled at the Drifter two days later as she leaned heavily on the modified Hive Knight femur wrapped in velvet cloth and pierced with osmium nails.  

It was a powerful magical artifact, one which she'd used to turn herself into a god.  But now, it was serving a more mundane and functional purpose.  Giving her stability as she walked with Kieran and the Drifter between the shelves of the recently constructed library of the House of Light in the Eliksni quarter.  

"Let me coddle a little, will ya?  It's my fault you got shot."

"Yes.  It is.  It is entirely your fault.  And I shall not let you forget it any time soon.  Thankfully, Kieran was there."

"Good thing too." the Drifter said, smiling at Kieran.  "I was dead-dead without you comin' in to save my sorry ass.  I'm grateful."  He turned back to Eris.  "So let me be grateful, will ya?  You're so grumpy!"

"Ugh."  Eris growled in frustration.

Kieran, Eris and the Drifter sat down around a table with Eido and Missraks, Scribe and Kell of the House of Light.  Blinx hovered near Kieran's shoulder, light occasionally flickering on and off, in eager anticipation.

The Drifter handed Kieran the cloth-wrapped package.  "You give it to them," he told Kieran.  "You're the only reason this whole caper has a happy ending."  

Kieran smiled and turned to the two Eliksni.

"Is that..." Missraks paused, his voice overcome with emotion.  

Kieran nodded.  

"Please..." the Kell looked upon Kieran with gratitude.  "Give it to my daughter."

Eido's hands trembled as she unwrapped the cloth and held both it and the necklace in her three-fingered hands.  

"Do you know," she looked up at Kieran with four wide eyes. "Do you know what this means to us?  To our house?  To me?  This is history... a piece of our past believed to be forever lost... this metal, these stones, they are pieces of a world that is gone... this... this is priceless..."

Kieran smiled as Eido hugged him enthusiastically with all four of her arms.

"Happy Festival of the Lost, Crabcakes," the Drifter said from across the table. 

"This is so exciting.  How did you find this?  You must tell me what happened!" Eido said, looking adoringly at all of them, especially Kieran.  "I want to know everything!"  

[olliveolly]

Fresh art💘💪

Straight to the point, I was finally able to go to the Mario movie, and I had an interesting idea)

So what if the mission to rescue luigi took much longer than expected, and the poor fellow had to stay in the dark lands for a long time?