#akro smile

[perfumestars]

Amidst the dynamic tapestry of modern perfumery, AKRO Smile emerges as a groundbreaking scent that reimagines how we perceive delight and elation through fragrance. This standout creation from AKRO merges familial legacy with innovative craftsmanship. The perfume, a collaborative creation by legendary perfumer Olivier Cresp and his daughter Anaïs Cresp, encapsulates more than just scent; it is a testament to shared memories and joyous moments, distilled into a chic and modern bottle. As the latest addition to AKRO's prestigious lineup, Smile beautifully melds personal narrative with olfactory artistry, making each spritz a celebration of shared happiness and creative passion.

[persolaise]

Serge Lutens Point Du Jour, Penhaligon's The Dandy, Akro Smile and other reviews - 2024

And we're back! -- Reviews of new releases from Serge Lutens, Penhaligon's and Akro, as well as thoughts on some vintage finds from Chanel and Montana.

Given that Love At First Scent has been off the air for several weeks, it was perhaps appropriate that the first post-summer review was of a scent inspired by daybreak: the brand new Serge Lutens Point Du Jour, composed, as ever, by Christopher Sheldrake. A decidedly more nocturnal affair followed in the form of Penhaligon’s The Dandy (Fabrice Pellegrin), bridged by the mid-afternoon contentment…

[dragonheart-swtor]

WIP Whenever

For once in my life I have something written ahead of time! \o/ (Not that I don’t always appreciate the shove to get some writing done, genuinely xD)

I was tagged by @sleepswithvillains​, thank you so much for the tag! No-pressure tags: @swtorcompanionsgoofin​, @sith-shenanigans​, @opalxempress​, and anyone else who wants to!

From the setup for a WIP smutfic with Zavi and Quinn post-reunion, wherein Quinn, uh, apologizes for failing his lord. (Snippet is fully SFW.)

Quinn found xir in the cockpit, not actively piloting but lounging in the pilot's seat skimming through something on xir datapad. He cleared his throat slightly, and waited; it took xir almost a full minute to finish what xe was reading and glance up at him. He bowed. “My lord, I beg an audience.”

Lord Akros arched an eyebrow ridge at the formality. “Speak.”

He dipped his head. “My lord, I wish to apologize again. Our conversation has been at the forefront of my mind since we left Dromund Kaas – I cannot forget it.” He swallowed hard. “If there is anything I can do to redeem myself, anything at all, I hope you will ask it of me, my lord.”

Now Lord Akros set aside the datapad, turning in xir seat to face him. Xe regarded him for a moment, then stood. “You are a funny thing, Quinn,” xe sighed. “You know repeating an apology is meaningless to me, so you did not come to me to apologize. And I do not think you came to me for redemption, either.” Xe raised xir chin. “So what do you really want out of this?”

Quinn's face burned, and he lowered his eyes to the floor, unable to meet xirs. “I – I apologize my lord, I did not mean to -” He cut him self off to take a breath, and sank slowly to one knee. “I failed you again, my lord, after I swore you my faithful service. I – I submit myself to your judgement, and to whatever consequences you see fit.”

Xe was silent for an uncomfortably long time, deliberating or wondering or simply making him wait for the sake of it. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut under the inspection, skin crawling. His skin had been crawling ever since their reunion on Dromund Kaas – it felt wrong, to simply return to xir service as if nothing had happened, for his failure to just be forgotten.

At last, Lord Akros let out a long breath, not quite a chuckle. “So that's it. Punishment.”

He shivered despite himself at the word, at how it fell across xir tongue, but said nothing, not daring to either confirm or deny.

Xe trailed xir fingers along his jaw, tilting his face up ever so gently to make him look at xir – the gentleness of it made him tremble more than if xe had slapped him. “I had considered how best to reprimand you for your transgressions,” xe mused, “but I never imagined you would come to me asking to be punished.” Xe smiled a thin smile. “Perhaps I should have.” Xe released him and brushed past him, and for a moment he thought xe would leave him there, but – “Come,” xe commanded, and Quinn stood and turned to follow xir.

[laillakat]

Mentos

Kade Akros fucking loved science. There was a certain safety in numbers and math as well as a certain beauty in the mysteries of the universe. Astronomy was one of his favorite subjects. But that class was filled so he got stuck in the same class as Alex Cross, roommate to his best friend, making a Coke and Mentos explosion as his first homework assignment. Naturally he texted his cousin and best friend as soon as class was dismissed.

K: Doing a science project tonight. Come over O: I can’t, gotta focus on hw, would get too distracted E: I’m in, but I gotta do hw too O: Changed my mind, don’t leave me out

Kade smiled, putting his phone in the back of his car as he drove home. He pulled his car into the driveway, making room for his experiment in the driveway. He thought about cleaning his room before the girls arrived but brushed that idea to the back of his mind. There’s not enough time for that, he thought, though it made him uncomfortable. Even if they wouldn’t notice the microscopic mess, he would know there are paper clips on the floor near his desk. Kade was pulled from his thoughts as he saw Ophelia drive into her usual spot on the curb. Echo was the first to get out, helping Ophelia by opening her car door. Kade ran to Ophelia’s assistance as well.

“How are you adjusting?” He asked, wrapping an arm around his cousin, eyes trained on her new prosthetic leg.

“I mean... It’s hard,” Ophelia huffed. “I’m trying but I’m not good with balance yet and my skin is irritated so I scratch it and have to put lotion on my skin a lot. I’m going back to the doctor next week so we can talk about it then.”

“Okay we are going to start walking on the count of three,” Kade commanded, holding her tighter at the waist.

“Please let me walk on my own.”

“But--”

“Hey, Kade?” Echo intervened. “Let’s start on the project. Ophelia needs to use your sound equipment for her song project.”

He closed his eyes, trying to let go but he couldn’t help his instincts. Ophelia was the last person in his family, disowned from the rest due to who he was. Looking at the blonde girl to his right. “Alright.” He let go, reluctantly. 

Echo grinned, walking over to the Coke and Mentos with a pep in her step. “Could you help me with my Dream Interpretation homework after this?”

“Whatever.”

After a few more words and half a sandwich later, Kade and Echo were covered in syrup, soda reaching Kade’s roof. “I knew that would be fun.”

“This is what you do in class?” Echo asked, wiping her eyes. “This is children’s homework.”

Kade grinned wickedly. “I could have done something else but I went with this because it was simple and I’ve never done this before. You can go inside and shower. I’ll have Ophelia bring you something to wear.”

[i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate]

Akros Week Day Five

All of you who follow me should have known this was gonna happen. 1940s AU. Based off of the lovely beauties I made that you can see HERE. 

AU

Jaune stood in front of the dusty mirror in their dimly lit dorm room, eyeing his neatly brushed blond hair, and straightening his bowtie. The night of the big dance. He was nervous, but he knew he had made the right decision. Weiss would be happier with Neptune. He could focus on just being with his team. He quickly looked at his watch, checked his hair once more, and then turned to see where Ren was sitting, buttoning up his green vest.

           “This is the first dance since the war, Ren,” Jaune said, “It has to be perfect.”

           “Right,” Ren nodded.

           “Is my tie straight?” Jaune frowned, glancing in the mirror again.

           “You look swell, Jaune,” Ren sighed, brushing a speck of dirt off his left shoe. “The girls are waiting outside.”

           “Alright,” Jaune stepped over to the door and swung it open. The old metal hinges squealed, like they always did. Stepping out into the hall Jaune turned to find his other two teammates waiting for him. Nora was grinning, swinging her hands back and forth. She looked nice, her short red curls bouncing happily along with her pink dress, navy blue heels clacking on the floor.

           Pyrrha was leaning against the wall, her hair, which was usually in a long braid was loose, in the popular waves that Jaune had often seen his sisters struggling to perfect. This was the first time he had ever seen Pyrrha wear a dress. She always wore her long red trousers with her suspenders. Now she was wearing a silky, auburn colored dress, hanging a little off her shoulders. Black heels gently tapped on the hardwood as she stood up straight.

           “Jaune,” she said, her soft voice reverberating right to his heart. She was stunning, not that she wasn’t before, but now it seemed he was just beginning to realize it. “You look nice.”

           “Yeah!” Nora hopped up, and then straightened her hand knitted cardigan carefully.

           Jaune was still speechless as Ren exited their room, and skidded to a halt at the sight of his partner.

           “Nora…”

           “What are we waiting for?” Nora gasped, reaching out and grasping Ren’s hand. “We all know it’s tradition for the teammates to accompany one another down to the ball! Lets go!”

           “Right!” Jaune said, though… if he was being honest with himself he felt a little queasy.

           “Come on, boys,” Pyrrha smiled, holding out her arm. Nora practically pushed Jaune towards her. “It’s time to have some fun.”

           When they got to the dance floor, their team seemed to scatter. A live band was in the corner, an older gent singing some sort of lively jive. A few couples were out spinning on the floor. Jaune found himself alone after Nora grasped Ren’s arm,

           “Come on! Let’s go cut a rug!” And they left him in exchange for the dance floor. Off by the door Jaune watched as Professor Ozpin spoke softly to Miss Goodwitch before the General cut in and offered his hand for a dance. Perfect. Even the adults are having a good time, and I’m stuck alone. He found himself looking for Pyrrha, a flash of her red curls, or a hint of her smile in the crowds of kids around the ballroom, but he couldn’t catch sight of her. She was probably with her fellow, dancing. Jaune sighed, decided to put her out of his mind and he wandered over to the refreshments table, and just when he was about to grab himself a drink he locked eyes with her. She was leaning against the wall, eyes brimming with tears, but she smiled when she saw him, trying to pretend she hadn’t been upset.

           “Pyrrha,” he said, “Where’s the lucky guy? When do we get to meet him?” She shook her head.

           “Jaune, there is no guy. No one asked me to the dance.”

           “That’s… ridiculous!” Jaune muttered, but relief swirled into him like some sort of relaxing nectar. His body instantly became less tense. “I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t want…”

           “That’s just it, sure plenty of people want it, but I’m a strong fighter, Jaune. I don’t know, maybe some boys find it intimidating. Maybe they think they’re not good enough for me. Besides, even if someone did ask me, I wouldn’t want that. The fact is… you’re the first person in this building that has looked at me like I’m a normal person, a normal girl. That’s something I’d want. You’re the kind of fellow… I’d want.” She finished with a shake of her head and she turned to walk away. Jaune tried to reach out and stop her, to ask her for a dance, but a thought popped up at the back of his mind and he recalled what he had said only a week before.

           “Damn…” he muttered under his breath. That’s just rich. Now I’m going to have to go put on a dress.

[thetalesofthereneverwood]

Broken Lute, Broken Brother

In the darkness of the evening, the olive skinned woman darted from hiding spot to hiding spot. Although only 25, Metiria has the wisdom to know that encroaching on Leonin land could be fatal. Fortunately for her, her training had forged her body to be strong yet with delicate air about her, not shuddering a blade of grass. She had been sent this far from Setessa and the Ophis Tower by the high priestess of Setessa, who had a vision of danger coming from the rocky lands of the Leonin.

Quickly she arrived near the edge of Orekos where she heard a familiar voice yell, “NOOOOOO!” and ran to hide in the safety of a rock formation. The priestess was right, she thought, there is danger afoot here.

“You have proven far more capable than I might have expected from a bard. But the gods smile on me. Clearly my cause is just. Go, be with your family, stop wasting my time and yours, what little of it is left,” said a voice. She heard the footsteps of a leonin walking away and she silenced her breath, using a spell taught to her in her teachings of the Ophis Tower.

As the leonin’s footsteps sounded far away, she heard another cry from a familiar voice, “Why? Why did you do this to me!” Theren… what did he get himself into? A thud rang from the source of the familiar voice, then all went still. The only sound was that of crickets chirping. Muting her footsteps, she sneaked over to a scarred and bruised Theren. His bare chest had an open wound near the shoulder. Next to him lay his prized lute, burnt in half with broken strings. Hoping he was just beat up, Metiria slapped her brother but there was no response.

“Little Wolf!,” she whispered. “Little Wolf, get up!” The prone bard did not stir. She put her ear near his face, and her breathing slowed to match his. She stood up again, looking around for a bush or a tree. She then saw it, a mighty oak with large overgrown roots. There, that’ll work.

Soon Metiria had expertly hid the unconscious bard and placed a sleeping spell on him. “Don’t you dare wake up before I come back for you, Little Wolf.” She picked up the charred lute and sprinted towards Setessa.

A couple hours later after midnight

Metiria had just past Akros when she got to an Ophis Tower checkpoint. “Valencia, Thank Karametra you are here! Send word to Setessa that the high priestess was right, and that my brother is in danger. Also, ask them to send Thristos, it will be faster to get him to safety that way.” Valencia saluted Metiria and soon came back to the opening where they stood with a falcon. “Gods speed little one,” Valencia said as the falcon soared into the clouds.

Later that morning

Theren was pushing Thristos as fast as he could. “Faster Thristos Faster!” He yelled as another arrow whizzed by. Metiria sat behind him, firing arrows back at the Leonin squad that had found Metiria and Thristos as they were waking Theren. Pain jolted from the spike wound but he kept pushing forward.

Soon, the trio were near the foot of the Kolophon. “Leonin intruders! Fire a volley,” said a guard on the wall. Thristos stopped at the bottom of the wall of the Kolophon, arrows flying down towards the Leonin. “Retreat! Retreat!,” yelled one of the Leonin, and began to run back towards their rocky homeland.

After the Leonin disappeared over the horizon, Theren led Thristos past the walls of the Kalaphon and to the Ophis Tower checkpoint. Valencia was standing there, guarding the tree that was the ceiling of the underground base of operation. “Ahhh, so this is Little Wolf, it is a pleasure meeting you,” Valencia said while she shook his hand. “I heard you walk between the worlds.”

Theren nodded, “I do walk between wo—“ as a violent pain hit his body. He convulsed once before hitting the ground.

“Little Wolf! Little Wolf! Are you alright?!,” Metiria screamed as she watched her brother yelp in pain. “We need to get him back to Setessa.”

Valencia helped Metiria get Theren back onto Thristos and waved as the dire wolf raced down the road.

Two hours later

Thristos panted as they finally arrived at the gates of Setessa. The dire wolf slowed his pace but headed straight for the temple. As they arrived, the temple guards stood as an archway, and the three went in.

“High Priestess! Your vision was correct, but now I don’t know to help Theren. He’s been going in and out of consciousness. Please help my brother, he’s the only one I have,” Metiria exclaimed. The priestess motioned Metiria to bring her brother forward. The priestess spoke. “I will do what I can Metiria. Go and I will send a messenger for you.”

As a curtain was drawn to give the priestess and the body of the bard some privacy, Metiria walked down the steps of the great temple. I have to do something more, she thought. Soon, her walking led her to the Abora Market. She noticed a woman, arrayed in clothing foreign from this land. Perhaps she can search for aid, thought Metiria.

Metiria closed the distance between her and the stranger and herself. Not trying to scare the woman, Metiria tapped her on the shoulder. “Salutations, I happened to notice your clothing and I can tell you are much like my brother, Theren.”

The stranger looked back confused but responded. “Theren? You are his sister? Interesting, how is he doing?” 

Metiria looked back with forlorn eyes. “He is hurt and in danger and I do not know what to do. I am but a warrior but I cannot spread the message to his friends that he needs help. Could you help me?”

The stranger looked back at her. “Theren helped me defeat a metal giant, I can help him get some help. Where should I tell them to go? Straight here to Setessa or somewhere else to meet you?”

Metiria looked back at her. “Tell them the Nistos forests, the Ophis Tower will see to their safe passage to him.”

“That sounds good, I hope he will be okay, tell him Isobel sends her regards.” Isobel then walked off towards the forests edge and disappeared from view.

Meteria let up a small, quiet prayer to Karametra.

“Blessed Karametra, protecter of the hearth and provider to our people, hear my silent plea. Allow Theren to live through the night, and to the morning, so I may speak with him again. I am not ready to lose my little brother and the worlds of the multiverse need him. Keep him safe from harm. In your name I pray, Amen”

[sylvan-library-blog]

Old Ruststein

By @kytheon-hero-of-akros​, @magus-of-the-color-pie​

     Damn my accursed curiosity and that accursed man. Why can’t I have a bit of peace? I just had to open that urn, and now I’m being haunted. Avacyn bless that I can find the guy who owned it again. He better know how to banish the spirit or I’ll come back to haunt him.

     It is foolish to travel just before sundown but there’s no time to wait. Night falls like a rock from the cliffs I skirt. Something’s following me. I need to go faster. It could be the spirit, a vampire, a demon, or any of the other plethora of things that make my hair stand on end. The bare trees swing in the mild wind, constantly causing monsters to appear at the corner of my eye, which disappear just as quickly. I sense a sudden drop in temperature; curse this blasted land. The evils of the Geier Reach surpass my imagination. Danger lurks behind every corner. Faster. I crack the whip. Doesn’t seem like she needs much encouragement.

James Paick, “Harrowing Journey”

     As we gallop through the darkening shadow of the mountains into the thick clinging fog, the silhouette of a stationary carriage appears. It’s that damned man again! I’ve got him now! Somehow he knew to be here. He stands by the carriage, as if waiting for me. I approach it, keeping an eye on him. He looks exactly how I remembered; he’s tall, square-shouldered and in a black leather duster that makes his crimson red shirt that much brighter in comparison. His hair is short, greasy, and jet black, which is... confusing, given his wispy white beard.  He opens the door and invites me in with a sweeping hand and a tight grin on his wrinkly face. I pull up beside him and consider, his two eyes, one brown, one glass, magically enchanted I presume from its light glow, silently scanning me. Should I meet with him again so readily?  He’s the one who put my life in danger, after all. But I need his help if I am to escape the spirit. He again gestures for me to enter and I slide in, the carriage’s floor creaking with every step. The inside is well lit, even though I fail to spot any light sources. It's also surprisingly large, though it feels crowded from the artifacts littering the floor and walls in a seemingly random mess. I spot a few blades of varying length and hilt, some stacked boxes on the floor, what looks suspiciously like a demon’s horns, a glittering symbol of Avacyn placed on an ordinary-looking bottle, and dozens of other oddities. There’s a vague sense of agelessness, like he’s been dealing in procurement for thousands of years.

     “I … I’m being haunted. An urn. I picked it up from you awhile back. You r-remember it, don’t you?”

     “Take a seat, lad,” he returned, gesturing to a small wicker chair propped up against the wall, “I don't do business standing up. It's bad luck, you know?”

     I oblige, sitting on the little chair with a thump. Rutstein scoots an ornate armchair in front of me and sits down with a satisfied sigh.

     “I never had the nerve to open that bottle,” he chuckles. “I’ll bet you’re wishing right now you hadn’t been so curious yourself.”

Igor Kieryluk, “Niblis of the Urn”

     Wait, he thinks this is my fault? How could it be my fault? He sold it to me. He didn’t even warn me of the danger! I want to get angry, to shout at him, but I can’t. I need his help. With a deep breath, I ask.

     "Do you have anything to get rid of it? Or to... ward it off?"

     Rutstein gestures to the multitude of battered objects on shelves around the carriage as he says, “If you’re looking for a solution at a bargain, you’re in luck. Old Rutstein never turns away a customer, especially not when they’re in such a troubling situation.” There’s that grin. While I can’t be sure of his intentions, I suppose they can’t be worse than the geist’s. He reaches for a silver censer and holds it in front of me, the carriage’s dim light glimmering off its side.

     “I’m not a cleric,” I say defensively.

     Old Rutstein lets out a snicker. “You need not worry about that, my boy! This isn’t just any old censer.”

     I stare at him, puzzled.

     “Alright, then, let Old Rutstein tell you how he came across this beauty,” he whispers as he leans forward, setting the censer on the ground. “I come into this town at nightfall, was somewhere near Gavony, you see, small town, just a few houses and a church and whatnot, selling some real goodies. Avacynian collars, holy scrolls, blades of blessed silver, you name it. There’s this small group that walks towards my carriage as the bells ring, signaling the end of the service in the town’s chapel. Everyone knows Avacyn is out there protecting us, but there are always those people that want some more… consistent means of defense, you know? They gather round, asking protection from the fiends of the night. Soon as I’m done cutting a deal with the last fella, I notice this rumbling noise coming from just west of the town, where there’s this sort of pass, you see? Sure enough, I see a mass of red coming right in from there. Ah, those cursed devils! They’re fast, you know. Out of nowhere they’re in town and setting fires all over the place, people are shrieking, there’s a ton of black smoke, really just a terrible situation,” he recounts in his gravelly voice, an expression of sincere grief painted on his face.

     “A small group of cathars gathers in front of the church, together with some volunteers and most of my clients. The priest is with them too. The imps are wily though. Their fires light a tall building ahead of them, which falls into the street. Chaos erupts as the cathars are separated from one another. The soldiers on my side of the blaze form a ring around the families fleeing the discord. I toss an extra fine axe or two to the civilians brave enough to wield them, but I wasn’t gonna get into that mess. Then the devils go for the priest. He wards them off with his censer, this censer,” he adds, pointing to it, “but I can tell it’s not enough. He drops to his knees and prays as the bastards surround him.

     Then, with this beautiful light, a flight of angels, probably Gisela’s, garbed with gleaming battle armor and with fiery blades of justice, come out of nowhere to lay waste to the monsters. One swoops down into the square between the priest and devils. She batters the advancing fiends despite their tricks. Her bravery inspires the cathars and the civilians into action, who fight back again!” Rutstein narrates, his voice rising with passion. If he weren’t a merchant, I’d say he’d have a career in storytelling. “The priest and I get to evacuating the defenseless, just in case. Within a few minutes, all those critters were gone. So naturally, I walk around to check out the wreckage. The priest’s censer is buried in a mass of burnt red limbs and heads. The burns are not from the fire, though. It was the censer’s holy magic that kept him safe, you see. I figured he wouldn’t mind if I took a small souvenir from the battle, so here it is,” he finishes with a broad smile, tapping the censer with his left index. A hollow, yet calming sound echoes faintly through the carriage.

Christine Choi, “True-Faith Censer”

     “Will it protect me from the geist?”

     “If it can handle a bunch o’ devils, it can ward off your little issue. But what happens when you run out of holy water? Maybe,” he says, holding his left index up as he reaches for something behind his armchair with his right, “a good geist to fight a bad one, eh?” he suggest, pulling out a modest-looking sword. “There is a rich history in a blade like this.”

Volkan Baga, “Neglected Heirloom”

     “Now you see, I’m on the way to Stensia from Kessig, traveling down Getander Pass. I may be protected, but I’m no fool—Ashmouth is home to the most powerful demons in the four provinces. Naturally some desperate souls have met their end here, and it seems one lurks now. I hear the ghostly screams before I see anything, and I know I’m in for a surprise.”

     His gestures have gotten wider, faster. Whether for the thrill of danger or for his captive audience, I can’t tell. He continues his story: “I hear the carriage before it rounds the corner. Its master is pushing it to the limit. No doubt why; a chilling wail demanding a sacrifice of blood pierces my ears. The ice blue geist, larger than a horse and quicker than one, too, is gaining on the carriage. Wisps of the lost soul overtake the car, which stops unnaturally quickly, horse frozen in place,” he whispers, gazing into my eyes.

     “The man inside the carriage bursts out and runs around the bend without another glance back. Shrieking all the louder, the geist descends upon him. Then, the unexpected! A brilliant blue ray comes from the carriage, then the flash of steel. A flaming sword just dives straight at the spirit through the air, smelling blood. Well, spirits don’t have any blood, but, well, you get what I mean. It pierces right through the geist’s chest,” he says through clenched teeth, driving his arm forward like a spear. “A terrible, terrible screech comes from where the spirit’s head should be. It falls from the sky, hood burning, lantern extinguished. The duel is over, lad. The geist is vanquished and the blade falls to the ground, abandoned, yes, but triumphant. And beautiful. Naturally, I approach it. There’s no proof it was ever on fire. But I know that the geist that possessed it remains inside. Perhaps it can save more than one life, I consider. The owner ain’t coming back, it seems, so I claim it as my own,” he finishes with a satisfied grin.

Volkan Baga, “Ashmouth Blade”

     “Well, um, that’s quite the story. So… you would be willing to give the sword to me?”

     “Well sure! For a price, of course. What better to protect you from geists than another geist, right?” he asks, leaning forward and patting me on the shoulder.

     I can think of a few things, but this seems like a fair option. More like my only option at the moment, really. With a guardian blade and a censer to defend me from evil, it appears I will be safe.

      “You’ve got yourself a deal, sir,” I say, reaching towards my pocket.

     “Now now, hold on just a second, lad,” he objects with a firm hand on my arm. “Have you considered the possibility of getting lost? I have other wares that can prevent you from such a misfortune befalling you,” he suggests.

     “I- I think I’m safe now, and it’s the same road back, so-”

     “Ah, but the evils of this land can play very nasty tricks on you, lad. You never know when someone might cast some magic on you, make you think you’re going in the right direction, and then bam! You just became some vampire’s dinner course,” he says with a sad shake of his head. “And plus!” he continues, lifting his head up with newfound joy, “I’ve got a special discount on purchases of three items or more going, this week!”

      I look at him, unsure. “I don’t really know how useful-”

      “Allow me to convince you of your … necessity,” He insists, pulling out a small, silver amulet from one of his many pockets.

      “So I’m riding down Briarbridge, that road in Kessig that’s always filled with bloody vampires, right? And ahead of me there is another carriage stopped at the side, so I ride up to it to see what's going on. Well, seems like it someone’s unlucky day! There’s a dark red stain right in front of the horses, but no corpse to be found. Obviously one of those bloodsuckers’ work. More could be around. This one passenger needs a direction, and they know it. Leaning outside the carriage, they gaze further into the forest, then back at the road behind, then into the forest. This one’s indecisive. Can’t blame him, though! Choosing to go deeper into Kessig could mean being dessert, or it could be salvation. The wrong decision is death. No decision is death.”

      A cold shiver runs along my spine. Vampires- I’ve had a few run-ins with them. I got out alive. Many others died… or worse. Rutstein quietly observes me for a few moments, then continues. “The passenger turns and notices me. We share a look of understanding—neither of us want to meet the vampires. When the moment ends they return to fretting about the situation. They curse and locate an amulet from their bag. With a shout of, “May angels watch us from the skies!” they toss it from the carriage and wait for a feeling of holy guidance. It takes them back the way they came. The correct choice. I watch them go, then I get out, pick up the amulet, get back in, and follow them.”

Alan Pollack, “Traveler’s Amulet”

      “You never know when you might lose your way, lad, or when someone might lose it for you. If you should face other fiends, this amulet will help you find your way.”

      I hesitate. Rutstein is good at his job, I’ll admit it. He’s probably trying to squeeze a few extra coins out from me. But on the other hand, the amulet could be useful, and I’d rather spend a bit more to increase my chances of making it back than save some money, get on Rutstein’s bad side, and possibly get murdered, or worse, by an abomination.

      “It’s a deal,” I say, rummaging through my coinpurse and giving Rutstein a handful of coins and then some more, following his will. The old man hands me the three items with a perhaps over the top reverence.

      “I knew we’d meet again,” he says as I prepare to leave.

     I stand up and crack the door open, stepping outside into the fog. The geist remains lurking, but I don’t feel the same dread now. My purchases will keep me safe, I know it.

      I turn to thank Old Rutstein.

      There is no carriage behind me, not even tracks to prove it was there.

[the-foxwolf]

A Quest for Vengeance: “The Board’s All Set”: A Short Story

Time for another episode of my “A Quest for Vengeance Series”!

In today’s episode @nantukohunk‘s Saria and @baldore-of-the-boros‘s Finn find that their nightmares from Mirrodin may yet be haunting them. Note: I promise we’ll get around to Heliod. It won’t be soon though. Which means many more stories for you all.

Gather `Round! It’s Story Telling Time!

            Walking through the lively streets of Akros in his trench coat and metal facemask, beneath the beating Theros sun, Finn wondered, not for the first time that morning, why he hadn’t just relaxed at the inn while Saria went and looked for the other Planeswalkers of Zerriko’s team. The people of Theros didn’t wear much clothing and the little they did was loose and flowing. Maybe he should just turn invisible and disappear into the crowd. Sneak back to the inn. Let Saria take care of this. But that wouldn’t be fair. He had already agreed to come with her.

            All morning they had been casually wandering between markets, listening as they pretended to shop. Saria was so good at this. Maybe she actually liked being social. The natural, gold, crown-shaped protrusion of her forehead and the matching spiked plating of her shoulder certainly helped. Everyone thought of her as a priest of Purhorus or Heliod. They didn’t know her like Finn did. If they even had the slightest clue of who Saria was, they would be impressed with how well she was handling being associated with the two gods whose very names have scarred her.

            “Saria,” Finn begins, drooping his arms at his sides.

            “I don’t wanna hear it Finn.” She replies, without even glancing at him, as she inspects the tomatoes at a stall.

            “When I die of heat stroke, what are you planning to put on my tombstone?”

            She scoffs, puts the tomato back, flashes the stall owner a grateful smile and the pair turn away to another nearby jewelry stall. “Quiet, Finn.” Saria says as she brushes past him. “I can’t hear chatter of people talking about strangers foreigners over the sound of your complaining.”

            Finn turns to follow her, one hand against his facemask the other over his heart, and says, “Darkness closing against me, Saria. I think this is it. Mother? Is that you? I’m coming home momma!”

            Saria rolls her eyes and she inspects the wares at the jewelry stall. “I think going home is at the bottom of your to do list, Finn. Not sure the Phyrexians would put up with your whining as well as I do.”

            He huffs, “If wonder if those metal demons even feel heat.”

            The elderly market stall owner looks up from item she was working on, “Did you mention the Metal Demon?”

            “What do you know of them?” Finn asks cautiously.

            “No one has seen the Metal Demon for nearly four days now.” The jewelry maker says, speaking to Saria and ignoring Finn completely. “Oh, Daughter of Purphuros, are you here in search of your god’s lost creature?”

            Finn squeezes his hands into tight fists. “What are you speaking of, elder?” He forces through a clenches jaw. “Are you telling me there were metal demons here?”

            She nods but continues to address Saria only. “A recent celebrity, a stranger named Marius of Zelzo, was last in the gladiatorial arena with the Metal Demon. The two battled until a draw. Neither has been seen since. I hope you are here to find it. The Metal Demon put up quite the spectacle at the Arena.”

            Saria gazes intently at the elderly woman, miraculously maintaining her composure. Unlike Finn, she didn’t have a facemask to hide her expressions. “This Metal Demon is an aberration, elder. If I find it, I must destroy it. Do you know where I might learn more of its whereabouts?”

            “Oh! I see.” The elderly lady says with a nod. “The Metal Demon is an insult to the God of the Forge. I understand, daughter of Purphuros. If anyone would know where to begin your search it would be the Arena Manager.”

            “Thank you elder.” Saria says hand griping her Darksteel sword’s pommel tightly. “We must be on our way.”

            “Blessing of the Forge upon you.” The elderly woman says with a bowed head.

            “And upon you as well.” Saria says with a bowed head in return. Finn and Saria turn on their heel and take off to their inn.

            “Phyrexians! Here! Saria! We must do something!”

            “This time we do what we could not back home, Finn.” She says, shoving her way through the street.

            “Saria. Slow down! Let’s think this through first.”

            “What is there to think about?” Saria snaps, “Nothing is more important than stopping them before they get started.”

            “We need help, Saria. If there are other Planeswakers here we have to-“

            She turns on her heel and shoves Finn nearly off his feet. “You can go find help then! But I need to find the Phyrexians now. I’m not going to let the Phyrexians take another world away from me.”

            Finn snarls and shoves her back. “And I’m not going to let Phyrexia take any more of my friends!”

            The pair of Mirrians glare at each other, Akroan citizens milling about them, entirely unaware of the storm of emotions they’re swimming around in.

            After a few moments of intense glaring Saria whispers. “I cannot sit here and do nothing while Phyrexia overruns this place, Finn. Not again. I have to act.”

            “I’m not asking you to sit down and wait. I’m asking you to think before you act.”

            Saria tenses up, fury bubbling beneath the surface, and explodes. Not into anger. But into tears. She steps forward and buries her face against his chest to hide her tears. Finn wraps his arms around her and holds her tight.

            “I thought this nightmare was behind us, Finn.” She says as she hugs him back. “I want to run to the other side of the multiverse and hide. But we can’t. We have to fight.”

            “Theros has no idea what the Phyrexians are capable of. We do. That’s exactly why we need to find Zerriko’s Planeswalker team as soon as possible.”

            A small metal sphere bounces off the stone ground beneath the with a tink! and rolls next to their feet. Finn notices it only a second too late. The sphere explodes and everything ignites into a cacophony of static and blinding light. His entire body feels numb and he feels himself fall, still holding Saria in his arms. Blind and deaf, Finn tries to cast an invisibility spell over them but he simply can’t focus enough. He can feel the pounding of feet through vibrations against his hands, people in panic and fleeing from the area. Saria’s not moving.

            Finn tries as hard as he can to stand up but everything tingles and feels numb. Head swimming he only ends up pulling himself up to his elbows and collapsing back flat on the ground.

            He feels two small flat cold metal surfaces press against his chest and electricity surges through his body, ripping him away from consciousness.

             The small well-dressed goblin puts away his stun batons, stands up, and nods at his leather clad companion, Taker.

            “Step aside Seeker.” She says, popping her knuckles. “My turn.” Taker grins wickedly and blasts the unconscious pair of Mirrans as soon as the goblin is at a safe distance. Saria and Finn are quickly encased in a block of ice.

            Snatcher walks up to her and claps his heavy hand on her back when she’s done. “Excellent. Now we have all six members of Zerriko’s little playgroup. The Matriarch will be proud.”

            The little goblin is already setting up the Spark Traveler, driving four special stakes into the ice cube and connecting them to a small computer.

            “When do we finally go after Zerriko?” Taker asks, brushing aside some strands of her bright orange hair from her face.

            Snatcher approaches the block of ice and sets his hand against it. “He will come to us. We’ve taken his play things. It won’t be long now until his corroded sense of consciousness forces him to come to us. I’ll leave a message for him to see that we were here. After that, it’ll only be a matter of time.”

            Spark Traveler ready. Seeker signs to Taker.

            Taker glances at Snatcher and grins. “Go ahead and answer.”

            Snatchers takes a deep breath and tries to sign back. It. Get. Started.

            “Close enough.” Taker shrugs as Seeker types the command into his computer. “I’ll meet you there, Snatcher. The phasing process should take about five more minutes relative to here and there.” She retrieves a small ball of tightly coiled dark blue filigree metal from her belt.

(Etherium Astrolabe: Shards of Alara) )(Art by Michael Bruinsma)

            “In a hurry?” Snatcher asks with a grin.

            “Gotta see a man about a giant.” She replies, drawing mana from the sphere. Her entire body becomes frosted over in a thick layer of ice that grows thicker and thicker until her entire body shatters, leaving thousands of small shards of ice. Planeswalked.

            Plans. Done. Almost. Snatcher signs to Seeker. One more…

            He strides up to the broadest wall he can find nearby, the Akroan citizens keeping a safe distance from him. Right on schedule the city guards arrive and shout at him to stand down. Snatcher grins, his lips parting only to one side.

            “On your knees!” The soldiers shout. “Submit or you will be killed!”

            “I don’t think so.” Snatcher calmly says with a wave of his arm. All at once, the metal of the soldier’s helmets contort and twist. Each of the soldiers collapse onto their knees, screaming, as their helmets begin to crack their skulls. With one more wave of his arm, Snatcher ends their suffering with a sickening crunch.

            The bystanders a shocked still. No one dares breathe lest they gain the attention of this almighty being. Again, Snatcher grins and relishes the fear and awe in their eyes.

            “Stand witness, all of you!” He shouts. “I am Dominique of Darahaz!” Snatcher raises his arms and focuses his powers. Slowly, the corpses of the soldiers rise in unison. Normally he wouldn’t waste so much energy all at once just for show…but the looks in their faces were easily worth the effort. One by the one the levitating corpses of the soldiers travel to the broad city wall nearby, the Theros sun glinting off their weapons and armor. The weapons each of the soldiers carried on them,  impale their former owners into the wall. When his gruesome work is done he turns to face the public again. “There will be a man here before the rise of the next full moon. He will carry two swords on his back and emblems on his arms and hands. When you see him, tell him what you saw here today. And tell him… I’ll be waiting. This man, named Zerriko of Dominaria, will know where to find me.”

            Snatcher leaves them with one last display of power. Unlike most people with a Spark, Snatcher was gifted an incredibly fast planeswalk. Anyone else who even tried to compare to him would have to use one of Seeker’s Etherium Mana Capsules. And even then few of them would beat him to their destination. With a snap of his fingers, Snatcher’s entire body dissociates into scattered molecules, disappearing in a rapidly expanding cloud of dark particles until none of it remained.

              He appears back on Darahaz in a wide, thin, cloud of dark particles. In a fierce whirl, the particles spin, closing in on each other, and gather into the coherent form of Snatcher. When he fully materializes he takes a deep breath to steady himself. Though he was capable of planeswalking at incredible speeds, it still took as much energy as any other planeswalk. Given that most planeswalkers spend a couple of minutes harnessing mana in order to planeswalk, planeswalking as he did was exhausting. Snatcher grins. The show was definitely worth it though.

            The metal mage rolls his shoulders and heads toward The House across the dry, water deprived, flat ground so prevalent on Darahaz. Twin merciless suns beat down on him, but to no avail. Born on this world, his people darkened a deep brown from generations of survival. Heat was no stranger to him now. Taker, on the other hand, came from a cold, wet, world. Every second outside of The House was pure torment to her pasty ivory flesh. Fitting that her magic specialized in ice while his was in metal. Of all the many dangers Darahaz had ever threatened his people with, none was more dangerous than The Arena.

            Memories flash before Dominque’s mind’s eye as he steps inside The House. A young boy, aged six, watches as The Matriarch’s agents storm his village. Within seconds they have taken his tiny village. That’s’ how they worked. How they struck. Hard. Fast. Overwhelming. Not a single life was lost…that day. No. The losses came on the way to The House. Intentionally, the Matriarch’s agents ignored their pleading for water and food. Those that died were simply rolled off the wagons. Discarded like dirty laundry. Only the fittest, the strongest, were even worthy of living to see the inside of The House. Any who died along the way wouldn’t have lasted in the Arena that lay beyond the house anyway.

            Domimque shakes his head, clearing the memories away from the forefront of his mind. Those days were behind him.

He

was master now. Master because he

earned

it with nearly two decades of sweat and blood.

(Arena Athlete: Theros) (Art by Jason Chan)

He opens to door to the lounge and throws himself on the couch and closes his eyes, fighting to bury his memories with preparation for what their recent arrivals had in store.

              “Hey boys.” Janice says as she walks down the hall toward the cell where Ellis and Kheve are being kept. “You two cozying up to your new rooms yet?”

            Kheve, laying down casuall on his cot, propped up on an elbow, says, “Don’t know about cozy, but it’s sure better than where we were before.”

            Ellis glances at him, eyes wide, “We said we weren’t going to talk to her to anymore! We were supposed to deny her the satisfaction of a response. What are you doing?”

            “I don’t know about this ‘we’ stuff.” Kheve says with a one-shouldered shrug. “You’re the one with the irrational need to spite her, not me.”

            The young Gruul man turns bright red and turns away from him.

            “Aww.” Janice teases, “Does someone have a crush?”

            “Shut up!” Ellis shouts. “Why are you keeping us in here? What are these stupid collars you put on us for? Answer me woman!”

            “You’re so cute when you’re angry.” Janice responds.

            Kheve speaks up, “Really though. Why are we here? How did we even get to this world in the first place?”

            Janice touches the cell bars that Ellis is so fiercely gripping and they immediately coat themselves in frost. Ellis squeaks and jumps back, shaking his hands. His reaction makes her grin.

            “Tomorrow,” Janice starts, “You’ll find out. The game board is all set now. We can begin playing the game tomorrow.”

            Kheve drops off his elbow and lays flat on his back. “Gonna take a wild guess and assume we’re the game pieces.”

            “You got it.” She ways with a wink. “Aren’t you a smart one?”

            He turns his head to her and scowls. “No need to be rude about it.”

            Ellis stomps his foot and says, “Why is this all so funny to you? Is this all some sort of game? You have no idea what it’s like being in here! To be a slave!”

            Janice snarls and presses her face up against the bars, her every word punctuated by a puff of white mist, “I know what it’s like! For eighteen years I lived behind those bars! So don’t tell me that I don’t know what it’s like! If you’re lucky you’ll die a quick death in the arena to spare you the life that I lived.”

            With a scowl she snaps her fingers and the cell’s floor frosts over. Like a kettle boiling over, the biting cold works its way swiftly up Ellis’s feet right up to his head. Instinctively he leaps off the floor and onto his cot, caressing his feet. Janice turns on her boot heel and storms away, her usual saunter replaced by a series of rapid clacks against the stone floor.

            When she’s gone Kheve turns to Ellis and says calmly, “Arena.”

            “What?”

            “She mentioned an arena. We’ve been brought in as entertainment.”

            Ellis takes a moment to let it sink in then responds, “We’ve got to get out, Kheve. I’m not about to live a slave. If I’m gonna fight, I’m gonna fight on my own terms.”

            Kheve nods and sits up on his cot. “I understand. But we have to play their game…for now. We can escape later.”

            “How are you okay with this?” Ellis says, testing the floor’s temperature with a foot. “Being a slave. How can you take it so well?”

            “I’m not.” Kehve responds gravely. “I hate this situation with a passion. You will about me that nothing matters more to me than freedom. But I’m not going to ruin my chance at escape by acting like a child.”

            “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Kheve ignores him, “It means that we will have one chance of escaping. As soon as they lose trust, what little they have, escape will be three times as hard. Until we figure out a plan, we need to keep our heads down and our eyes open.”

            Ellis braves getting off the cot and sees that the floor’s warmed up already. Must have been a flash frost. “I’ve got a plan. We break these collars and bust out of here. We can take them! Only reason we got caught was cuz we were drunk. It won’t happen again. I’ll crush-“

            “Calm down, Ellis.” Kheve says laying back down, arms crossed behind his head. “Even the beasts of the Rubblebelt, on Ravnica, wait for the right moment to pounce on their prey.”

            “Yeah…yeah, you’re right.” Ellis responds laying down on the floor, enjoying the remaining coolness of the stone. “But promise me we’re gonna kill as many slavers as we can on the way out. We can’t let them do this to anyone else.”

            “Sure. But first we free as many of the current slaves as we can. We can’t let them stay there with the slavers gone.”

            “Freedom!”

            Kheve snorts and rolls his eyes, amused. “Yeah. Freedom. Woo. Goo team. Camaraderie and good cheer. Yay.”

              Tom-Tom walks into the dungeon where the human, Marius, and the Phyrexian, Thaclel are still being kept. It’s day three in here and still the human has not broken. There is still a fire in his eyes.

            “Come to gloat at us?” Marius asks, straining against the Azormithuim anti-magic shackles that bind his tightly up against the wall. “Don’t bother. Snatcher has done that at least nine times since he first met us in here.”

            The goblin ignores him and heads straight over to the Air Conditioner. With a sigh he turns the dial and lowers the intensity of the cold. For the first time in days, Thaclel makes a sound. Her Phyrexian spine ripped out of her body and pressed directly against the cold stone walls while the Azormithium chains pulled her arms out and away, she had hardly twitched or made the slightest of noises. Understandable. The Air Conditioner had lowered the temperature of the room to an intolerable zero degrees Celsius. While Janice could walk in here in little more than her underwear and a smile, neither of these two prisoners came from worlds of extreme cold. To them, this was an alien and effective form of torture.

            Marius glares at him and asks, “Playing good-cop/bad-cop now? You think that by treating us nice you’ll get us to open up to you and trust you? Think again.”

            Tom-Tom waves his hand dismissively and exits the dungeon. He returns shortly with a small step ladder and a think metal collar. The goblin sets the steps up in front of Marius and climbs it with a sigh.

            “What is this?” Marius says, struggling to pull away from the approaching collar. “Explain yourself!”

            But true to his nature, Tom-Tom remains silent and locks the collar around Marius’s neck. He then pads over to Thaclel and set up the ladder to reach her. Of course the step ladder’s not tall enough. The goblin moans and leaves the dungeon, taking his step ladder with him.

            He then promptly returns wearing some kind of ridiculous looking boots. With a click of his heels, the soles of the boots ignite and the goblin hovers off the ground.

            ���Rocket boots!” Marius gasps. “

That is so cool!

” He catches himself and follows up with, “I mean…What I mean to say is…aw, screw it. Rockets boots are awesome.”

(Swiftfoot Boots: Magic 2012) (Art by: Svetlin Velinov)

              His short legs waving around like leaves in a breeze to stabilize himself, Tom-Tom manages to get up to Thaclel’s neck and attach the collar. Then, without so much as a glance at the pair, he propels himself with his boots out of the dungeon.

            Marius shakes his head, rather he tries to shake his head, as much as the Azorimithum chains and the collar allow. “I have no freaking clue what’s going here.”

            From the entrance of the dungeon comes Janice’s cool, flowing, voice. “What’s wrong, soldier boy? I would think you would be used to faulty intel, as a soldier.”

            “Yeah, well, it’s not like I have any intel at the moment. Faulty and absent are completely different things.”

            She walks up to him, each step deliberate and slow. “Tomorrow morning you will be free of this dungeon.” When she reaches him, she runs a finger down his nose and flicks it. “Cheer up, little toy soldier. Come tomorrow you’ll spend your days doing exactly what you know.” Janice breathes on his face gently, coating it in a light layer of frost. Immediately Marius begins quaking and shivering- as much as his bonds allowed, that is.

            “Wha-what-what do you mean?” He forces past his chattering teeth.

            Janice turns to walk away, each step deliberate and paced. “What are toy soldiers used for, Marius? Playing pretend with other soldiers. Except in your case you’ll be playing against living enemies.” When she reaches the door she turns to him and raises an eyebrow. “Who knows? Do a good job and you might just get to play with someone else. Or it you’re lucky…you’ll die on the sands of The Arena and be spared the future that awaits you.”

            She slams the door behind her, leaving the Phyrexian and the human in silence. Several moments go by as her frost breath fades away. When it’s all gone Marius whispers to himself. “This is just sick, Marius… It’s not cool to be so aroused and terrified by your captor all at once. Talk about Stockholm syndrome…”

@confused-phyrexian @actualborossoldier @foilmountain @vorthosthewillis @nantukohunk @baldore-of-the-boros @verumlumen @askkrenko @animar-smol-of-elephants @inudono @yawgmoth-lord-of-sin @shorewall @triumviratethree @brotwurst-lobby @fogothefighter @jolly-ob-saint-nixilis @weasel102

[dagger-of-venom]

Send a ‘💬’ to catch a glimpse of a memory my muse has.

Shout out to @halloftriumph for letting me use his thought-baby Anakaros for this. This is the AU in which Anakaros, and also Lévànce, are Planeswalkers but this doesn’t necessarily make this MTG specific. I like to think that MTG and FR can crossover quite easily.

It made Lévànce smile to see Anakaros appear from seemingly thin air. He hadn’t expected the no-nonsense Akroan warrior to accept the invitation to a day of fun at a magefair. Akroans were fighters, different from elves entirely in their love of battle or ability to fight well. Anakaros was just the same as the rest of his people in that regard.

Then again, Anakaros could be surprising. Clearly the bard was rubbing off on the fighter as evidenced by the sweet way he took the elf’s hands in greeting. The gentle and entirely unexpected tenderness of the kisses to his knuckles caught the elf off guard but it had his smile become a beaming, pleased row of teeth. Anakaros was not a man given to such acts generally. He and the rest of the people of Akros gave off the air of warriors too rough and tough for romantic gestures the likes of which Lévànce was fond of.

“It’s been a long time since -” Lévànce cut himself off with a gasp and reflexively but futilely jerked his hand away from the one that held it. Anakaros’ tongue had snaked out to quickly lave at the space between his fingers. Judging by the small but meaningful smile on the warrior’s face it was entirely intentional and Lévànce felt his face warming in a blush. He was sure it was noticeable and the way Anakaros’ tongue kept up its previous actions meant that the elf’s face wouldn’t return to a normal color any time soon.

“Ah. Uh. Um.” He trailed off, mouth just slightly agape as the hand not currently under the strangely appealing assault was rested easily on the human’s shoulder without a fight. Anakaros’ now free hand joined its mate and uncurled Lévànce’s fingers to allow him access to kiss and slowly tongue the elf’s palm. His deep brown eyes locked onto the elf’s steel blue ones, holding Lévànce in place with their intensity, and asking for permission to continue. All the while Anakaros’ tongue kept dragging agonizingly slowly across the lines it found.

Lévànce found his free hand gripping harder onto Anakaros’ shoulder as he unconsciously leaned and then half-stepped closer to the man, silently giving permission to continue. The Akroan’s smile deepened and his tongue trailed slowly up one finger to lick, nip, and suck before sliding back down to the bard’s palm. Anakaros worked up and then down another digit before skimming across the bard’s head line to the tip of his thumb.

He repeated his actions with the same agonizing precision on the opposite hand and by then Lévànce was noticeably breathing more quickly in short, inaudible intakes of air. He shivered heavily as Anakaros pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm and held it there.

“Anakaros?” The elf’s voice was low and shaky. He couldn’t step closer to the warrior, not without pressing himself bodily against the man. The idea was agreeable to Lévànce and he indulged in that desire. The incredible amount of warmth that he’d felt from the short distance between their bodies seeped into him and left him shivering in the chilly autumn air.

A smug smirk slid onto Anakaros’ face as he pulled the hand he’d been toying with up onto his free shoulder. It mirrored the clenched grip of its opposite before slowly slipping behind the tall man’s neck. Pleased, the Akroan slipped his hands down Lévànce’s sides to land on his hips. His smirk deepened further as he pulled the elf up off the ground, the bard’s legs winding about his waist familiarly, and walked towards a stand of trees.

Lévànce didn’t remember much after his back hit a tree but he knew that he walked into the magefair with a ridiculous smile on his face and his hand in Anakaros’.

[fotografisi-gamou]

New Post has been published on Wedding in Greece

New Post has been published on https://weddingingreece.com/hindu-wedding-in-santorini-greece-aashish-divya/

Hindu wedding in Santorini, Greece, Aashish & Divya

A 4-day Hindu/Indian wedding in Santorini – Aashish and Divya

Hold on your hats ladies and gentleman as this extraordinary 4-day Indian wedding at the sun-soaked island of Santorini will thrill you.

Santorini cruise catamaran

Aashish and Divya’s destination wedding had it all. A private cruise at the emerald Mediterranean waters followed by a henna party and completed gloriously with both Hindu religious and civil ceremonies.

On day one of this love celebration, our couple along with their 70 guests coming all the way from England, India, America and Australia, enjoyed a catamaran private cruise in the majestic caldera. Surrounded by the dazzling colors of the Aegean Sea and the reddish cliffs above them, they relished their champagne along with light finger food and of course, some dives into the refreshing Aegean waters.  

A private cruise with catamaran in Santorini

The next day, was the time for the henna party. In Hindu weddings, Mehndi or henna party is considered one of the most vibrant and spiritual events. Akro in Akrotiri, Santorini, a secluded luxurious beach bar has been chosen for the occasion. This evening, the Sangeet also took place.

In this uttermost landscape next to azure waters and the black pebbled beach, Divya’s hands and feet started to be covered in elaborate patterns. Symbolizing luck, love, joy, success, and beauty it is believed that the deeper the color of mehndi on the bride, the happier the marriage will be for the couple.

Akro beach bar Santorini

Wedding dinner Akro venue Santorini

Hindu religious wedding in Santorini, Greece

On the following day, the preparations for the religious ceremony had begun from the early morning. Santorini Gem, an astounding venue located in one of the highest points of the island overlooking the endless blue and the bright white architecture, was selected for the big event.

Aashish and Divya dare to go bold with their religious wedding decoration and the outcome was rewarding. Bright red and white colors dominate, lush bouquets of red roses lined the ceremony isle, which led to an artfully arranged wedding arch. The wedding chairs were adorned with matching red ribbons and you could sense that the whole venue design was inspired by the extravagant style of Indian culture. This is what makes a traditional Hindu wedding truly a blessing for the eyes.

The impressive baraat of the groom at the venue gave the first signal of the overall wedding attitude. Instead of a baraat with a white horse, groom arrived with a big car fully decorated with colorful flowers. Bride and groom in their traditional red and gold attires followed every Hindu wedding ritual. Full of symbolism and spirituality Indian wedding traditions are very engaging. Couple, friends and family were embarked on a whirlwind of moving emotions, fun and enjoyment.

Family seats under the Hindu Mandap and the ceremony starts off with the kanya daan.

Wedding lunch was held at the same venue with a luscious Hindu vegetarian menu satisfying the guests’ uraniscus. The ornaments of the table included a lavish centerpiece of vibrant flowers in red, dusty pink and yellow hues. The wedding lunch lasted until the first hints of dusk started to reclaim their space over the light blue Cycladic sky.

Caldera view from Santorini GEM

Mandap ready for Hindu wedding ceremony, Santorini GEM venue

The arrival of the groom baraat with dhol, Santorini island

  Hindu wedding ceremony Santorini GEM terrace

        Bride’s entrance Santorini GEM

  Indian wedding ceremony at Santorini GEM terrace

Wedding dinner area, Santorini GEM venue

  Pool area Santorini GEM wedding venue

Caldera view wedding photo-shooting, Santorini island, Greece

Caldera view wedding photo-shooting, Santorini island, Greece

                   Civil wedding in private wedding venue, Santorini, Greece

On the last day of this exceptional celebration, the civil wedding of the couple was hosted in LeCiel. A wedding venue with an enormous terrace and a magnificent view of Santorini’s volcano. Under the lucent Greek sun, a refined wedding was about to begin. Unlike with the previous day, this time royalty white was penetrating into the whole venue decoration.

From arch’s blossoms to the personalized detail of sun umbrellas for the guests. Divya looked stunning in her dainty wedding dress and Aashish couldn’t stop smiling and admiring her. The melodic harp sounds created an impeccably romantic atmosphere. There, between lights, sounds, and flooding sentiments Aashish and Divya gave promises of eternal love.

LeCiel wedding venue terrace

LeCiel wedding venue terrace

Wedding ceremony at LeCiel venue, Santorini

Cake cutting LeCiel wedding venue

Three layers of wedding cake

    The day completed with a great reception, which turned into a party lasting until the early morning hours with bhangra dances!

Divya and Aashish’s Hindu wedding in Santorini, Greece, was an awe to tradition, spontaneity, and people who know how to really cherish those unique moments!

Sunset time LeCiel wedding venue terrace

First dance at LeCiel wedding terrace, Santorini

                               Wedding planning by “Wedding in Greece” https://www.weddingingreece.com/

Wedding photography by Eleni Dona wedding photographer  https://elenidona.com/

[madissontaylor]

Smile Factor: 💯💯💯 The new 2017 @aprilia_official Tuono Factory is fierce!!!! We just took this bike in on trade and I probably won't last long. Full akro exhaust, carbon fiber belly pan, and more!!! Come and get her 🔥🏍💨🔥 #eurocyclesoftampabay #ECWorldwide #aprilia #tuonofactory #bearacer #akropovic (at Euro Cycles of Tampa Bay)

[dragonheart-swtor]

behold, a royal bitch

Meet Zavi Akros, my canon Sith Warrior. I have very little story for xir yet; all I know about xir is that xe comes from a long-standing Sith family, xe is very much a dark side character but, like, with a twisted sense of honor, and xe is going to absolutely destroy Quinn after the Quinncident. Also the scar on xir face came from a lightsaber, owned by someone she knows very well, and whenever I try to ask xir about how xe got it so far the only response I get is “One does not become Sith without learning how to bow,” which is very creepy, thank you Zavi.

(Image Description: a digital, fully-colored and shaded portrait of a Sith pureblood. Xe wears a low-cut v-neck with armored pauldrons, revealing ridges running down xir chest. The camera is angled slightly upward at xir face, which is illuminated both by backlighting and by xir glowing golden eyes. Lines of golden stud piercings run down the sides of xir nose, along with two studs at the corners of xir lower lip. A dark scar splits xir face, extending from xir right brow ridge across the bridge of xir nose and down to its widest point on xir left cheekbone. Xir curly, dark hair is mostly pulled back out of sight, save for a curl hanging down on each side of xir face. Xe smiles slightly down at the camera, eyes half-lidded. The background is a pale purple-to-yellow gradient, indicating backlighting. End ID.)

[the-foxwolf]

A Quest for Vengeance: “Zerriko’s Revelation”: A Short Story

Time for another episode of my “A Quest for Vengeance Series”!

In today’s episode, @vorthosthewillis‘s Finn and @nantukohunk‘s Saria confront @verumlumen‘s Zerriko about why he’s assembles his Anti-Heliod team.

Gather `Round! It’s Story Telling Time!

           Saria is understandably furious. As we stand here among the corpses of the Disciples of the Forge in their well-lit cave lair, I realize how much Saria has been manipulated throughout her life. How much she has been abused. First the Phyrexians. Then the Disciples. Then The Sphinx on Esper. It doesn’t surprise me that when she came back to Theros to retrieve the Darksteel sword she left behind, she slaughtered the deceivers who had betrayed her.

            Will Zerriko just be another manipulator in her life? Zerriko, the mysterious Dominarian Planeswalker who told them that the Disciples were attempting to create their own Darksteel. Why? What did he have to gain from tracking her down just to remind her of a weapon she had long ago forgotten? He stands before us, revealing the truth behind the schemes of the Disciples. All along they were servants of Heliod, not Purphorus as they taught Saria they there. I stand here, watching her fume, shed tears of furious rage, and I feel for her. Will Zerriko just be another manipulator? We’ll find out, I’m certain.

           “What do you want, Zerriko?” I demand, stepping in front of Saria protectively. “Why do you draw us to Theros? What do you have to gain?”

           “Please.” Zerriko says smugly. “What makes you think I’ve got some secret scheme going on?”

           I lean down and pry a dagger out of the hands of one of the deceased Disciples. “Answer the question.”

           He pauses, apparently amused. “Tell me, Finn of the Tangle. Why are you here? Why is she here?”

           Who is this guy? “Saria needed closure on this chapter of her life.”

           “Closure I facilitated.” He replies quickly.

           Saria speaks. “Answer the damned question, Zerriko. Why did you bring us here? Tell me or I will bury you in stone and leave you for dead.”

           Zerriko shoves his hands into his coat pockets and sighs. “You mortals are just so impatient. I suppose I understand. You’ve only got so many years left to live.” Once again, Zerriko releases a heavy sigh. “You really want to know why I brought you here? I brought you here to fight a god.”

           “That’s a big leap from cultists to gods.” Finn replies. “You sure you thought this out fully?”

           He merely shrugs and smirks. “You wanted to know.”

           Saria hisses, “Heliod. You brought me back to Theros to set me up against Heliod. You didn’t give a damn if the Disciples reconstructed the Darksteel. You knew what would happen if I came back here.”

           Zerriko pulls his hands out of his pockets and points finger guns at her. “Pretty clever of me, huh?”

           Finn turns to Saria and takes her by the shoulders. “Breathe, Saria. Let me talk to him. Just…go sit down over there while he and I talk.” She shoves Finn off but steps away from the conversation. Finn then turns toward Zerriko and walks up to him. “Why?”

           “Be specific.” He says with an uplifted finger.

           “Why did you bring us here to fight Heliod, Zerriko?”

           He nods and replies. “Finn of the Tangle. Do you mind if I call you ‘Fott’? That’s how Koth named himself. Koth of the Hammer. I’ll call you Fott.”

           Finn roars and shoves the Dominarian Planeswalker. “Answer the damn question! And no! Fott is just as long as Finn. Why bother?”

           The Dominarian sighs, puts his hands in his pockets, and turns his back to Finn, facing the entrance of the cave overlooking the snow covered mountain valleys. “Why pit you against Heliod, you ask? Do you really want to know?”

           Finn shakes his head and crosses his arms. “You know what? No. Not anymore. You know, I was curious at first, it’s why I’ve asked several times now, but you’ve changed my mind.”

           Zerriko smirks. “Works for me.”

           “Do you have any concept of sarcasm?”

           “What do I need to do to close this chapter of my life?” Saria whispers, tears turned into determination. “To put this all behind me?”

           “Meet me at Akros.” The Dominarian says. “The rest of the team should be there already. And you two have quite the walk.”

           “Sounds like Zerriko has quite the stride there, Saria. He thinks he can make it to Akros faster than we can.”

           “I have business on another plane.” Zerriko says plainly. “And I’ve practice planeswalking to Akros so many times I hardly have to try anymore.”

           “Who in the nine sphere of Phyrexia are you, Zerriko?” Finn exclaims.

           Zerriko shrugs, his being slowly fading into a blue mist, planeswalking. “An interested party.” He says as his material form vanishes.

           Finn throws his hands in the air and drops them against his side. “Do you believe this guy Saria?”

           Already Saria is gathering supplies for the journey, rummaging through the Disciple’s pantry.

           “Guess you do. Why? Why do you want to play his game, Saria? Clearly he’s got an agenda.”

           She shakes her head as she continues rummaging. “I’m sick of being manipulated and used, Finn. Zerriko is giving me the chance to take action, to have possession over something in my life for once.” Saria stops for a moment to sigh and goes on. “I know he’s got plans. But Finn but…if I can destroy a god and help free people from his oppression…” She stops, unable to finish.

           But Finn understands. “You’ll never feel vulnerable again. I get that.”

           “You don’t have to come, Finn.” She says, stuffing rations into her pack. “This is my fight. Not yours.”

           The elfish Finn groans and pressed a palm against his facemask. “No, I have to go. Zerriko has a team going up against Heliod. I couldn’t stop Phyrexia from taking Mirrodin. I couldn’t save everybody. But I can help save at least these poor souls. Going up against a impossible odds is something you and I have experience doing. They stand a better chance with me than without me.”

           Saria tosses Finn an empty pack and smiles. “Then start packing, hero boy. You and your hero complex…it’s cute.”

           “You and your hero complex. It’s cute.” Finn mocks. “I do not have a hero complex, thank you very much.”

           “Oh yeah? What do you call it then?”

           “I like to think of it as a sense of justice and charity.”

           “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Finn. I’m not gonna judge.”

           Finn snaps his fingers and turns Saria’s pack, and all its contents, invisible. “Take that.”

           Saria turns her head to face him. “So clever. Much wit. Such smart. You can’t come up with a clever come back and the best you can do it mock me or mildly annoy me?”

           “You can’t come up with a clever come back Finn. Why do you stink at being snarky so much Finn? Look at me, I’m so witty and clever.” He mocks with a concealed smile as he starts filling his own pack. “Come on. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

@confused-phyrexian @actualborossoldier @askkrenko @foilmountain @obi-one-drop @animar-smol-of-elephants @fogothefighter @vorthosthewillis @nantukohunk @verumlumen @baldore-of-the-boros @jolly-ob-saint-nixilis @kahalaomapuana @inudono @triumviratethree

[the-foxwolf]

A Quest for Vengeance: Friends and Strangers: A Short Story

Time for another episode of my “A Quest for Vengeance” Series!

In today’s episode, @foilmountain‘s Ellis and @baldore-of-the-boros‘s Kheve celebrate the Harvest Moon with a tribe of Leonin. As they prepare for bed, a mysterious woman arrives and shakes their lives to their very foundations.

If yall want me to tag you in future episodes, let me know!

You can read the other episodes –> here <–

Gather `Round! It’s Story Telling Time!

           While Ellis didn’t quite like their food, the Leonin’s music was the best. Tonight is the celebration of the Harvest Moon, where the night sky is more than bright enough to harvest the fields and hunt. And these Leonin love to dance! Kheve had a little bit of a harder time getting used to the rhythm, Ellis learned the moves in a couple days. They had spent here nearly a whole week longer than they were supposed to, just so they could enjoy tonight’s feast and celebration. And it was absolutely worth it!

(Paraselene: Innistrad) (Art by Ryan Lee)

           Around the bonfire, many Leonin gathered in a series of concentric circles to dance their ritual. Theirs was a ritual of spinning, clapping, stomping, jumping, whooping, all while moving in a constant circle around the flames. The Gruul danced too. But there was a unity to the way that the Leonin did it that was totally different than what Ellis was used to. It was nice to experience something new. Tomorrow night they would take off toward Akros as they had been planning since the night they met. But tonight? They danced!

           Several hours into the celebration, the festivities died down and the celebrants gathered into tight circles of ten or fifteen. A cup of syrupy sweet smelling substance was passed among the circle and each was expected to take a deep drink. Once everyone had their gulp, they would rise to their feet and share a secret with the group. It was a strange ritual. ‘Community building’ they called it. Whatever it was, they had been kind enough to host Kheve and Ellis for the week without asking for anything in return. So why not? Neither one was expecting the substance to be so…liberating.

           When at last Kheve’s turn came he rose to his feet, swaying slightly from his inebriation and said, “My name is Kheve. And I-I’m not sure why I’m here.” The human takes a deep sign and rolls his shoulders. “I was told that The-Theros was the land of heroes.” Kheve stoops to pick up his cup of beer and chugs the rest of it. “But I don’t see any heroes! Do you?” Some of the more inebriated Leonin let out a cheer. “Don’t-don’t get me wrong. I-I wanna be a hero. But I am no hero yet.” Kheve leans back and belches as loudly as he can, to the joy of many of the Leonin present. When the applause ends, Kheve goes on. “I like helping people. Helping people is great. It feels great. But I-I am not good at this whole hero business. It just doesn’t come-come naturally to me. But I wanna be good at it.” Ellis and the Leonin nod and raise their cup to him. Kheve bows and takes a seat. “Your-your turn, buddy.”

           Ellis rises, plants his feet firmly on the ground, throws his head back and shouts, “I came here to fiiiiight!” The Leonin cheer and then let him go on. “Life is short!” Ellis shouts again, relaxing his stance. “So why not have fun? We’re all going to the same place, am I right? We’re all bound for that dark empty blackness that awaits us all.” Many of the Leonin bob their heads in agreement. “So why not? Am I right? Why not? Like…why the heck not? We’re all going there so why not get there on my own terms? Why not have fun along the way?”

           Kheve’s raises his cup and leads the cheer among the Leonin to pass the turn. One by one each Leonin in the circle shares their secret until at last everyone is done. By then, half the Leonin in the camp are asleep and the other half are dragging either themselves or someone else to their bed.

           The pair of Planeswalkers wrap an arm around each other’s shoulder and together they work their way up the hill to their guest tent. Kheve giggles and says, “’I came here to fight.’ I like that.”

           “Hey. Don’t-don’t knock it. I didn’t knock your hero thing. Am I right?” Ellis replies.

           They brush aside the flap to their tent and stumble inside. In their inebriated state, neither realized the candle light from within the tent. But now that they’re inside, they realize they’re not along in here.

           Laying down on the bedroll is a long, slender, human woman. Clad in a long sleeve, short trunked, leather jacket, pants, boots, and fingerless gloves, the long red-haired but half shaved, red-eyed woman stretches casually and says, “So. You two looking for company tonight?”

           Kheve releases his friend, tries his hardest to stand erect, and runs a hand through his Mohawk. “He-hello. My name is Khe-Kheve. What’s yours?”

           She smiles at him but Ellis interrupts before she gets the chance to say anything. “Hey there se-sexy. My name is Ellis. What-what brings you around these parts?”

           The stranger rises up to her feet, almost standing taller than Kheve, and walks towards them. “My name is Taker.”

           “Taker?” Kheve grins stupidly. “You can take me any time.”

           She grins. Her eyes wild. Cruel. “I know…” she whispers. Taker walks up to Kheve, runs her hands down his chest and whispers, “Consider yourself…taken.” Her hands glow a light blue and suddenly Kheve is encased in a thick cocoon of ice, his stupid grin flash frozen on his face.

           “Whoa…” Ellis says, backing away. “Hold on here. That’s not cool. What’s going on?” He furiously rubs his eyes, trying to focus past the sleep deprivation, physical exhaustion, and inebriation.

           “Wrong.” She whispers as wiggles her fingers at me. “It’s very cool.”

           Suddenly, the ground beneath Ellis turns to slick ice and he finds himself sliding downhill faster than his senses can react. He lands flat on his back, his head swimming from vertigo, and tries his hardest to move. But already his mind and body are giving out to the night’s festivities. “No…” He whispers as darkness swirls around him.

           A goblin, well dressed in a fine suit, paints, shoes, button down shirt, and fedora appears in his rapidly fading field of vision. The goblin throws some kind of net over Ellis that immediately conforms and clings tightly to his body.

(Spidersilk Net: Dragons of Tarkir) (Art by Steve Argyle)

           “Well done.” A powerful low male voice speaks from outside of Ellis’ range of vision. “Four down. Two to go…”

 If you liked what you read, hit that “Reblog” button. For more informative articles and entertaining stories from me at Story Telling Time, hit that “Follow” button. Thanks for reading! See ya next time!

@confused-phyrexian @askkrenko @foilmountain @obi-one-drop @animar-smol-of-elephants @fogothefighter @vorthosthewillis @nantukohunk @verumlumen @baldore-of-the-boros @jolly-ob-saint-nixilis @kahalaomapuana @pepperapb

[the-foxwolf]

A Quest For Vengeance: The Arena: A Short Story

I told you all I would be writing a fan-fic based upon --> this <-- conversation. And it’s looking awesome. This is the first episode. Enjoy! I’m tagging everyone in the post. Let me know if anyone else wishes to be tagged in future episodes!

Today’s episode introduces @actualborossoldier‘s fanwalker, Marius and @confused-phyrexian‘s fanwalker, Thaclel. You can follow the rest of the story --> here <--.

Gather `Round! It’s Storytelling Time!

           He rolls his shoulders, his perfectly fitted crimson and gold heavy armor flow along with his motion. The sun high above in the afternoon sky shines down upon him, glinting off the flaming fist sigil he wears on his chest and shoulder plates. All around him the gladiator arena crowd cheers out his name: “Marius! Marius!”

           Marius throws his head back, closes his eyes, and lets the sunshine warm his face. It is a pre-battle strategy he learned years ago on the plane of Bant from the Rhox Castellean Knights intended to keep his mind clear in combat. In this arena of bloodthirsty entertainment for the masses, the creatures the Arena Managers throws at him, Marius certainly call for him to keep his head in the game. Giant scorpions. Hydras. Harpies. He even faced a Manticore. He could still feel the wound on his back even though he had taken three weeks to heal it with the best doctors the Arena Manager could find. Of his team only he and one other survived. It was then that the Arena Manager decided that Marius would best serve in single combat or in a team against slaves.

           Today, the Arena Manager said he had found something special for Marius. Perhaps today would be the day Marius had been waiting for since he arrived here two months ago. Zerriko, that strange human from Dominaria, had asked Marius to come to Theros as part of team for a special project. Thus far, Zerriko hadn’t come fetch him from the arena. Until then, Marius would remain in the arena looking for anyone else the mysterious Zerriko might have sent here. After all, Marius found his way here. It was probably a good guess to assume the rest of Zerriko’s team would find their way here too.

           Marius draws his sword, centered and ready for combat. With his magically enhanced voice, the Arena Manager opened up the battle. “Esteemed visitors! Welcome to the Grand Akros Arena! Today Marius returns from his injuries against the Manticore. And it looks like he’s ready for battle! Let’s give him a cheer!”

           The crowd rises from the stands and gives Marius a mighty “Welcome Back”. When the crowd settles down, the Arena Manager goes on, “Today we bring Marius a special treat to welcome him back to the arena. Discovered high in the mountains of the Kragma, our field agents bring in a creature more grotesque than even the harpies! Esteemed Arena visitors! We bring, for your viewing pleasure, The Metal Demon!”

           Across the arena the gates open to reveal exactly what the Arena Manager said they had found. Wearing little more than a few thin and worn out strips of cloth enters a monster whose flesh seems as though armor had been grafted onto it. Steely thick cords of hair spread out down its face, obscuring most of it. The little Marius could see from beneath the mess of cord-like hair was a smile. A broad smile as long and wide as one of the viashino from back on the plane of Ravnica. Small, thin, needle-like teeth reveal themselves from beneath the fleshy smile the Metal Demon shows him. At first Marius had thought the Arena Manager’s field agents had captured this thing. But that smile…there is an intelligence behind it. A viciousness, a madness, that only a sentient creature could bear. This creature wasn’t captured. It came willingly.

           The Metal Demon stretches its arms out and detaches a long two-handed war hammer from its back. Then the arms continue stretching, revealing another two arms bearing nothing but a matching set of the creature’s savage looking claws it has on all its hands.

           Marius swallows hard and forces himself to breathe. There is an air about this creature. Something…wrong with it. It doesn’t belong here. Oh! This… this might be one of Zerriko’s planeswalkers? Wait…this thing is a planeswalker? No. This must be some aberration of Nyx. Yet its flesh looks far more like artifice than enchantment. Nor does it look forged by Purphorus as this creature is as much flesh as metal. Marius swears and shakes his head. Well…if this is one of Zerriko’s planeswalkers then…looks like he’ll need to make friends. Here... In the arena... With that thing…

           “Hark, Metal Demon! What is your name? I am Marius of Zelzo.” Marius calls out, readying himself.

           “My name is Thaclel of Phyrexia. That is all you need to know of me.”

           Thaclel charges at Marius with stunning speed, catching Marius off guard, and it smashes its war hammer square against his sigiled chest plate, crumpling it like foil. Marius tumbles heels over head a few times before pulling himself to his feet. He looks at his chest and frowns. It took hours to polish that chestplate and he won’t be able to replace it until he goes back to Ravnica. The Metal Demon cackles as it casually leans on its war hammer.

           Marius rips his chest armor off and prepares for another attack. Thaclel gives him another of its vile and monstrous grins, hefting its hammer. Taking a calming breath, Marius drives his sword into the ground prepares a lightning spell, hiding his actions behind his shield. The Metal Demon charges once again, lunging to the right to get around Marius’ shield. It finds itself face first with a double helix of brilliant lightning.

(Lightning Helix: Modern Masters) (Art by Raymond Swanland)

It staggers, disoriented and Marius presses his advantage, bashing it in the face with his shield and pulling his sword out with one smooth motion. He follows his shield bash with an upward slash of his sword.

           Thaclel catches the upward swing with the tremendous steel claws of its lower two arms. Decades of training tell him that the Metal Demon is about to make a follow up, Marius casts his sunlight spell, illuminating his body as brilliantly as the sun. Once again, Thaclel staggers back, blinded. Marius casts a quick speed boosting spell, finishing off his remaining reserves of mana, and charges at Thaclel with his shield. Thaclel is struck so hard it is thrown clear off its feet for a full meter before tumbling against the ground.

           Marius takes a moment to catch his breath. He was good at casting spells, but he didn’t have all that much mana with which to do it with. As the Metal Demon rises to its feet, Marius charges, sword raised. Thaclel grins something…vperhaps satisfied in finally meeting a good challenger. The human closes in on the Metal Demon and Thaclel heaves a its hammer high in the air.

           Dodging an overhead swing while charging at an enemy is child’s play for Marius. Deftly, he evades the hammer and closes in against Thaclel ready to pierce its side. But as the Metal Demon’s hammer hits the ground, the ground explodes in ripples. The shockwaves hurl Marius away and onto his back. Marius’ ears ring as he tries to lift himself back onto his feet but the ground is too unstable for him to get a solid footing. 

(Boom//Bust: Planar Chaos) (Art by Paul Avon)

           Across the rubble Thaclel grins and lets out a low chuckle. “The Uncompleat can be so predictable sometimes. More and more as I travel the planes I realize how much Phyrexia has done for me.”

           Marius finally manages to get back up on his feet and step out of the rough and gravelly mess.  “You are a planeswalker! I knew it. I am too. Did Zerriko send you here?”

           Thaclel prepares itself to attack, “No one tells me who I am or what I am to do. I know nothing of this Zerriko.”

           The two combatants close in one another. Thaclel takes a swing at Marius which he easily blockes. Marius is certain that if Thaclel was trying, it would have destroyed the shield as easily as it did to his chestplate. Now is the time to talk. Marius attacks back, making a wide open and well telegraphed lunges, which Thaclel deflects with the claws of its lower two arms.

           “Why are you here then, Thaclel of Phyrexia?”

           “A… friend… of mine has a score to settle with one of the gods of this realm.”

           Marius lets out a laugh. “And what? You intend to take on a god all on your own? You know that won’t work out for you.”

           Thaclel snarls and delivers a particularly heavy blow to Marius’ shield. “You know nothing about me, Ravnican.” It sees Marius’ surprised face and adds, “Yes, human. Even I know of Ravnica. It is a… popular…world.”

           “Join me, Thaclel.” Marius offers, taking an overhand swipe at Thaclel’s head. Thaclel bats it away with its hammer and Marius adds. “Zerriko is building a team. If your cause it just, I could convince them to help you on your quest.”

           The Metal Demon takes an underhanded swing at Marius who bunches himself together and takes a jump, bounding off the swinging hammer. He backflips off the momentum and lands on his feet, to the joy of the crowd. “Your offer is…tempting.” Thaclel says, circling with Marius. “How do I know your team will help?”

           “We ‘uncompleat’ have a thing we call ‘faith’. It is to trust in something one does not have proof for. Trust in people, Thaclel. People are worth the benefit of the doubt.”

           Thaclel considers this for a few moments and nods. “Fine. But we must end this battle first. How do we proceed?”

           “Like this!” Marius says, sprinting, closing the distance between the two quickly. As Thaclel readies itself to counter Marius’ charge, Marius takes a combat roll to the side. An obvious tactic that Thaclel counters with a quick twist of its war hammer. But Thaclel is caught off guard as Marius stops himself mid tumble and shoves himself, feet first, at Thaclel, knocking it back. Its upper arms firmly grasping the war hammer, Thaclel’s lower arms rise to deflect the attack Marius is sure to follow up with. The pair continue to fall together at what seems extremely slow motion to them both when in truth everything is taking place in a couple of seconds.

(Glorious End: Amonkhet) (Art by Raymond Swamland)

           Marius’ shield arm bashes aside Thaclel’s lower arms and drives his sword edge against Thaclel’s collarbone. They land with a heavy thud, Marius’ blade mere centimeters away from Thaclel’s throat. “Yield!” Marius shouts, grinning.

           Thaclel grins back. “It is a draw, human.” Something presses against Marius’ inner thigh. It’s Thaclel’s lower arms’ claws. “One twitch and I slice open your femoral artery and you bleed to death in less than a minute.”

           A thunderous roar erupts from the crowd as they rise from their seats in awe of the spectacle of a battle they had just witness. From start to finish, this would be a fight to be remembered by everyone here.

           “Esteemed visitors of the arena, Metal Demon, and Marius, your attention please!” The Arena Manager bellows with his magically enhanced voice. “The duel is a draw! If you would, I ask that both parties retreat to their respective sides of the arena. Let the two warriors know what you think of the fantastic scene you have been shown here today!”

           Once again, with renewed vigor, the crowd cheers for them both, Thaclel having picked up about half of Marius’ fans to bring them to an equally sizable fanbase.

           The combatants release each other from their deadly embrace and rise. Marius bows to Thaclel and says, “I shall meet you tonight, behind the arena near the docks.”

           Thaclel gives him a slight nod and turns to leave.

           “You are by far one of the best men I have ever faced in battle, Thaclel of Phyrexia. It was an honor to cross weapons with you.” Marius says.

           “Woman.” Thaclel replies.

           Marius shakes his head in confusion. “Excuse me? I am-“

           “Not you, human.” Thaclel says turning to leave and calling over its back. “I was by far the best woman you have faced in battle.”

           Blood rises to Marius’ face as he realized he had just made an assumption without thinking. “Forgive me, Thaclel of Phyrexia. I promise I will get it right when next we meet. I should not have assumed.”

           The Ravnican turns on his heel and goes to retrieve his crumpled chestplate. He stares at it with a heavy heart knowing there is no one on Theros other than Purphorus who could restore it to its former state.

           “Friendship is priceless, right?” He whispers to himself. “I’ll have faith it is.”

@pepperjaq @confused-phyrexian @actualborossoldier @askkrenko @foilmountain @obi-one-drop @animar-smol-of-elephants  @fogothefighter @vorthosthewillis @nantukohunk @verumlumen

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[aviatrixlife]

There is that "friends going flying" smile we love to see so much! ☺️🛩👍RepostBy @sofiaerobatics: "Can’t describe how much I miss flying upside down and pull some G! We need to try that flat spinn in the Giles soon again @viktorofsweden 😆👏 #aviation #flyingwithfriends #giles202 #aerobatics #acro #akro #summerinsweden #pilot #aviationlovers #avgeek #brattforsheden #gforce #spinn #loveflying #missflying" #aviatrix #aviatrixlife #femalepilot #womenwhofly #girlsflytoo #girlswhofly #avgeek #instaplane #instagramaviation #success #goals #inspiration #victory (at Planet Earth)