#and somewhere will be a rock carved with instructions on how to summon me

[savage-rhi]

Me when it's finally my turn to be an ancestor and descendents of my bloodline summon me:

[onwesterlywinds]

Catspaw Blackmarket

Part of my Godhands series, set roughly in the year 1543 of the Sixth Astral Era - thirty-four years before Hydaelyn’s present-day, and fourteen years before Ala Mhigo’s fall.

GODHANDS IS NOW ON AO3! If you like it, send over some kudos!

"Get up, Ashley."

The voice tore him from sleep, and the accompanying nudge to his foot sent his dreams scattering. He lunged forward from his pile of discarded jackets, grasping for his bearings, only for something made of rough-spun fabric to collide with his face: a plain hempen bag, which fell into his lap as his heart pounded and his thoughts raced in confusion.

"Morning," said Élodie. She sauntered into his field of view, spinning a keyring around her finger - the key to the safehouse where he and Marco had taken up shelter. "We have to head to the Profondeurs right away, so the longer it takes for you to get up, the more we'll need to run on our way there."

It took him several tries to fully grasp what she was saying. "What the fuck?!"

"I'm serious. We're on a tight timeline, so you'd better come to life quick."

Absent was a teasing comment, or even an exhausted groan at his flank; sure enough, when he glanced around the safehouse, there was no trace of Marco where he had fallen asleep beside Ashley only a short while before. "Where's-"

Élodie set herself to tying back her long black hair into a simple bun. "He's getting your knives repaired in the Sprawl. We'll meet him there later, assuming our own work goes well, but he said I could borrow you for a bit. We talked it over right in front of you; you really slept through it all?"

"Ugh." He blinked and tried to rub the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes. "Yeah, I... I've just woken up."

"I hadn't noticed," she quipped. "So are you ready?"

He had half a mind to refuse to go with her as a matter of principle, to insist that she ask for his assistance before taking it for granted. But he would never deny Marco his presence, just as he had no good reason to deny Élodie whatever she needed now. His safety with her was no question: he had never seen Marco or Élodie lie to one another, and Marco would have put up much more of a fight if he'd left against his will. "Why the Profondeurs, then?"

"Listen, not to be an arse, but there's literally no time. If you're not coming with me, fine - but I need to make this happen or I'm fucked."

He staggered to his feet in his effort to quickly find his balance. With his knife in Marco's hands for repair and no other possessions to call his own, he needed scarcely any time to ready himself; still, he took a moment to stretch out his shoulders and breathe in deep before he gave Élodie a nod that was much more confident than he felt.

"Lead on," he said.

Were someone to ask him the way into the Profondeurs, Ashley would have thought himself capable of giving directions. Several times along their run, he recognized paths that led toward the deepest reaches of the Undercity: paths from which he had seen other Duskwights come and go, or crossroads that he had carved into his memory from piecemeal snippets of maps and muscle memory and directions spoken aloud. Élodie's chosen course skirted every one of those instincts, had him second-guessing himself and his position in the Undercity at every turn.

The two of them met with only a few others along their route - not deliberately going out of their way to remain unseen, but crossing just enough bypassers to avoid attracting suspicion. Only the final half malm of their journey was completed in solitude, as they traversed a narrow precipice jutting out over a deep and bottomless darkness below. Ashley made it more than halfway across before he realized what it was he faced, and just how near he was to some unfathomable end. From there, once their path widened, Élodie lowered her stance into an impossibly slow pace and Ashley followed her lead, treading with greater care even than when faced with the threat of falling to their deaths. He knew better than to ask the reason for their sudden caution. He traced out her footsteps with care until his calves ached from the strain of it, and yet his steps were as silent as hers. The quiet submerged him as surely as the darkness, until he heard, as clearly as if it came from somewhere deep within him, a series of low and steady clicks. They continued on; Élodie paused once, still crouched, to let out a deep exhalation of breath. He did not see when whatever danger they strode through had passed: Élodie simply rolled out her shoulders and resumed her usual posture.

"Right," she said, speaking as confidently as though their trek had not just demanded their utter silence. "We're here."

Élodie flicked open her lantern and blew out the candle. Whatever sound Ashley might have made to stop her died in his throat. He needed only to blink for his vision to adjust, and spots of deep gold bloomed into his view. The entire cavern shimmered as if lit by distant stars.

"Whoa," he breathed, despite himself.

She let out a rare snort of laughter but did not slow her pace. "It's called Jan's bloom. I need as much of it as we can gather. Here-" Her outline came closer, manifesting in the darkness more as the absence of gold than as any distinguishable shape. With one hand, she gently clasped his wrist; with the other, she passed him a new knife to replace the one Marco had taken for repairs, one with a dulled but even blade. "It should come right off the walls with this." Still holding him by the arm, she directed him over to the gold-speckled stone, where she held her hempen bag at the ready and ran her own knife along the cavern wall. With a light and tinny scrape, the moss fell easily into the sack.

"You take up that side," she instructed, and though he could not see where it was she pointed, he headed over to where the gold seemed to gather in the brightest clumps and she did not redirect him. The motion of scraping while holding the bag steady required somewhat more coordination than Élodie's example had made clear, but after only a few rounds of fumbling with the fabric, he set himself to work and soon fell into a rhythm marked by the almost melodic sound of metal against stone.

The moss gathered quickly in his bag, and the more of it he collected, the more his vision and hearing adjusted to his darkened surroundings. Soon every ilm of him, down to his bared nerves, responded to each and every stimulus: a subterranean breeze, a droplet of moisture from the cavern's high ceiling, even a reprise of the clicking they'd heard before summoned from somewhere deep in his mind.

"So, uh," he said at length, "what does this stuff do?"

"It's a deadly poison that kills Hyur on contact." He could not see her grin amid the darkness, but he did not need to; before he could even open his mouth to respond, she continued, "It has lots of different properties. On its own, it's a cure for sunlight headaches - or, if you steep it overnight along with some other herbs, it can help with anxiety. My aunt takes it, or else she doesn't get out of bed."

It was the first Élodie had ever spoken of her family. Rather than risk prying, he nodded, then remembered she likely couldn't see him in the dark. "So why do you need so much? Why bring me along?"

"It's... a long story."

"Élodie." His hand holding the knife stilled, hovering over a clump of Jan's bloom as thick as his thumb. "Come on."

"What?!"

"I'm just saying. I'm here because I chose to be. I'm just asking if I have any reason to worry."

For a while, she said nothing at all, but the sounds from her knife came faster than before. At last, she said, "Fine. I needed your help because this'll be my last time in the Profondeurs for a while. Maybe ever."

"Did something happen, or-"

"I really don't want to talk about it," she said. "Not right now, at least. How's your harvest coming along?"

He reached into his bag and gently pressed down on the moss he'd gathered. "Little under halfway full."

He did not hear her come up behind him until she breathed next to his ear. Her sudden proximity made him jump; he had not been so close to anyone except Marco for a long while. From somewhere near her neck, he thought he caught the scent of a vaguely earthy-smelling perfume.

"You're getting the hang of it," she said. There was no malice, no urgency in her voice. "Here-" She reached her knife arm over the top of his, coming up close behind him; she scraped her own knife along the underside of a small outcropping of rock, from which Jan's bloom growing in thick and lush clumps fell with ease into his open bag. She placed one of her hands on his elbow, as if to direct his arm holding his knife. "Open your mouth," she directed.

His face burned red in the darkness. "What?!"

"You'll be fine," she shot back, then adopted a teasing, singing tone. "Come on!"

He did as she instructed, waiting with his mouth hanging wide for at least a few seconds and feeling every ilm the fool, until Élodie placed a drop of Jan's bloom upon his tongue. It tasted like nothing he had ever tried before: bitter enough to make him nearly recoil at first, yet ending on a sweetness that reminded him of rolanberries.

"Don't worry," she said. "It's harmless like this - you can eat it right from the rock." Élodie demonstrated this by lifting the glint of her moss-laden knife to the height of her own lips. "Heat's what activates its properties. Put it in tea water, or leave it out on a hot day, and that's when it'll really start to kick in." She gave another look into the contents of his bag, then back up at him. "You look cute when you blush."

"Wh-"

"I can see way better than you in the dark, remember?" As he reeled at this newfound knowledge, she said, "Let's give it another quick go-around and then head out. I'd rather not have enough than risk getting caught here."

Élodie used the light pooling in her bag to find her matches. In the middle of her motion to reignite her lantern, she paused, bit her lip, and glanced back up at him.

"Thanks for coming with me," she said. Her voice held an unfamiliar waver. Then the lantern glowed anew, obscuring the Jan's bloom upon the walls once more - and as his eyes stung from the sudden brightness, he had the good sense not to comment on the tears gathered in her own eyes.

***

Ashley did not know when or where he had first heard tell of the Undercity as a child. He might have insisted he'd known of it for as long as he could remember, were it not for a string of nightmares he'd once had - of falling through cracks and haunted treasure and blades in the dark - that had forced his exasperated mother to sit awake with him for the better part of a week.

The Sprawl resembled those dreamlike fascinations more so than any other part of the Undercity he had yet seen. It was itself the closest thing the Undercity had to a city beneath the earth, with shops and dwellings crammed into close proximity under a low-hanging ceiling of stone. Most streets were only wide enough to permit a few people to pass, and blue lanterns illuminated the paths in lieu of a bright sky overhead.

Élodie scarcely bothered to conceal their harvest as she marched him through the narrow lanes. There was a pageantry to her carelessness: here, every step they took was under scrutiny, more so than even during their earlier journey in the Profondeurs. Together they passed conversations held at a whisper, children who halted to stare with open curiosity, curtains drawn and opened at random.

They ducked past a pair of green-robed Roegadyn and turned sideways down a grimy alleyway. There they arrived outside the Catspaw, a shop that to Ashley blended in with the rest of their surroundings, tucked behind a metal grate with a beaded curtain as its only defense. It resembled any other seedy apothecary one might have found in the Ala Mhigo, albeit with fewer wares on display.

"Wait here," Élodie said. "Don't talk to anyone, don't touch anything."

He might have protested at her lack of faith, were he any less exhausted, but the compounded fatigue of running and sneaking and secrecy were beginning to weigh on him. He merely held out his sack of Jan's bloom for her, and she took it with a wink.

Élodie pushed aside the curtain and the shopkeeper lifted his head to greet her. He was an older Duskwight man, though sturdy for his height; his grimy white hair was tied back from his shoulders in a low ponytail, and he offered her a smile full of perfectly straight teeth. They spoke together in tones too quiet for Ashley to distinguish words from, though the shopkeeper glanced his way more than once and Élodie often huffed and sighed and made a show of setting the two bags of Jan's bloom upon his seller's counter.

"Hey," came Marco from his left side.

Ashley let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding; his arms were crossed tight.

"How'd it go?" Marco asked.

"It..." Ashley shrugged, then figured Élodie's "don't talk to anyone" was unlikely to apply to Marco. "She's still in there, selling our haul. We were just about to go and meet you. What about the knives, did you-?"

"All set." Before Ashley could see that Marco had moved his hand, his friend slipped his newly resheathed dagger into his waistband at the left hip. "And I ran into Hazal, an old ally. She said she's got a job for us both, if you think you'd be up for some intimidation."

He made a noise before he could help it. When Marco gave him a look in response, he said, "Intimidation? We could scare the piss out of little kids, maybe, but I doubt we'd be anything but a nuisance to folk bigger than us."

Inside the shop, Élodie slammed her palm down on the counter with a bang, and he and Marco both jumped in alarm. "What do you mean, there's none left?!"

The shopkeeper appeared unfazed; if anything, his unctuous smile grew ever wider. "I mean precisely what I said," he drawled. "I've no more vera root for you. My supplier has doubled their asking price, and it's more trouble than it's worth to keep it stocked. Your attempts to blackmail me will not conjure what you need."

With a single breath, Élodie drew herself up to her full height. "How dare-"

"Do not think me a fool, Miss Fiel," the shopkeeper continued, still baring his perfect teeth. "It took all of a half a bell for word of your disownment to reach this street."

"I-"

"Allude to my relationships all you wish. Your juvenile gossip will not conjure vera root in my stores - nor will it make your dear Maman Hélène love you as before."

The words found their mark. At once Élodie stepped back, almost staggering, as though the shopkeeper had struck her. Ashley darted through the beaded curtain at once, sending its strands skittering against one another, and took up his practiced defensive stance between Élodie and the counter. Marco did not follow him inside but instead kept close watch at the entrance.

"You shut the fuck up," Ashley snarled.

"I need the vera root," Élodie sobbed behind him. "For a potion, it's-" My aunt takes it, or else she doesn't get out of bed. "Please."

Ashley unsheathed his newly repaired dagger, and the shopkeeper's sunken eyes followed the glint of its blade. "Tell me who your supplier is."

"Put that down, you pathetic, shitesucking little-"

"Tell me who they are. And if you lie, I swear I'll tear this place down."

Again the man's eyes darted to the blade lowered at Ashley's side, then to something on the shelves behind Élodie. "The Balam Ring," he said. "It's J'zhal Nunh of the Balam Ring. Now get out."

Élodie took in another unsteady breath from behind him. From the corner of his eye, Marco gave the most imperceptible of nods.

He opened his mouth to deliver one last parting threat to the shopkeeper but found his mind utterly blank. He resheathed his dagger with one hand, led Élodie out of the shop with the other, and made a hasty retreat with Marco into the shadows of the Sprawl.

"Well," Marco quipped. "At least we know you are up for intimidation."

"Oh, fuck off."

His friend only laughed. "I'm serious! That was amazing. And bloody terrifying."

Behind them, Élodie fell to her knees and wept.

"Hey." Marco's humor fled at once as he and Ashley rushed to her side. "Hey, now. We've got you."

They had to support her weight for the rest of their journey back to the safehouse. There, in their relative privacy, Marco gave her the last of their clean water and Ashley did his utmost to bundle her in the jackets they'd slept upon the previous night, but there was little else for either of them to do for her until the majority of her tears subsided.

"I'm sorry," she whispered at long last. Marco immediately shook his head, but she pressed on. "My clan's matriarch, Maman Hélène, she... she told me I wasn't allowed to go topside anymore. She was angry I've been learning alchemy; in my clan, it's something only married women do. She wanted me to marry her son and succeed her one day, but he's vile, and he's allowed to go topside whenever he wants, and... and it wasn't fair. So I left."

"Fuck," Ashley breathed.

"Wh-What?"

"You'd get kicked out of your family just for going up to the surface?"

Élodie heaved a shuddering, sniffling breath. "Our matriarch's word is law, Ashley. That's been our way, ever since the Gridanians drove us out of Gelmorra."

He had no response to that, and so he labored to wrap his thoughts around the enormity of what she was saying, and all that she was surely leaving unsaid.

"I d-didn't want you to think worse of me," she stammered. "Your family's been murdered, and Marco never had one to begin with." Her lip trembled, and the rest of her words fell out of her in a rush. "And I just left mine - all because I was too stupid and selfish to do the one thing asked of me."

"You're not," Ashley said. "You're not either of those things. And I'd never think worse of you for leaving a family like that."

"My aunt was depending on me," she sobbed. "She needs the tonic I make for her, and now... Now I don't know how I'll ever see her again."

"Listen," said Marco, gently. "This aunt's the one who raised you, right? The one who took you in after your parents died?"

Élodie nodded.

"She won't give up on you that easy. From everything you've told me about her before, I bet she'll find a way to see you. Even if she's stuck in bed for now. 'Sides-" He set a hand on Élodie's shoulder as it began to fall once more. "There's plenty of other Duskwights who live outside the clans, most of 'em decent enough. I bet you'll have them to look to. So this isn't the end, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah."

"And you've got us," Ashley added, then immediately wondered if he was jumping to conclusions. "If you'll have us."

She gave a heaving sniff and wiped at her streaming nose with the back of her hand. "It's good this happened."

"Yeah?" said Marco.

"Yeah. It means I can join you now, really join you, without putting a target on the others' backs. Now that I've no family to speak of, Blackram will have no one to go after. And I... don't have any more excuses to keep my head down."

Marco's eyes darted to meet Ashley's, and the same grave understanding passed between them. Without speaking another word, Élodie curled up beneath the bundle of fabric and laid herself down to sleep. Ashley huddled beside her, weathering her every muffled sob even as he kept his open eyes fixed upon the door - even as she wrapped her arm around his waist, and Marco draped his arm across them both.

[thecleverdame]

Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Eight

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta:  ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Western Woods

No one, indeed. Sam, Dean and Young Masbath ride alone, their horses loaded up for the expedition. The three ride through the dark and gnarled woods keeping a watchful eye.

“The Van Garretts, the Widow Winship, Jonathan Masbath, and now Magistrate Philipse...something must connect them. Can you think of anything Young Masbath?” Sam asks.

“We had no dealings with the magistrate that I know of.” The boy shrugs. “And the widow?” Dean pulls his horse beside him. “Your father knew her?”

“Everyone knew Widow Winship,” he confirms.   “In a manner of speaking I trust.” Sam glances to Dean.

“She would bring old Mr. Van Garrett a basket of eggs every week.” A crow screeches in the distance and all three riders nearly jump in their saddle.

“Did your father have dealings with the Van Garretts?” Sam inquires.

Young Masbath look between the brothers. “He worked for them, we lived in the coach house.”

“You didn’t think to mention this?” Dean presses. “It’s nothing, there were many servants. All dismissed now, of course...But there was something that happened one night, a week before the murder. An argument upstairs between father and son, and my father was later sent for by Mr. Van Garrett.” Sam nods, “An argument between father and son?” “After which, the elder Van Garrett summoned his servant, my father.”

“Stop.” Dean snaps, putting his hand up. “Listen.” “I hear nothing.” Young Masbath looks around.

“Nor do I, no birds, no crickets.” Sam keeps his eyes on the horizon, fingers grazing over the grip of his pistol.

“Everything has gone quiet,” Dean notes. “We need to keep moving.”

“This way,” Sam nods. They reach a hill crest, stopping to take stock of the surroundings. Below there is a cave with a rock archway over two ill-fitting doors that look to be coming off the hinges. Above is a chimney, smoke pouring out into the gray sky. “This is a bad idea.” Young Masbath pulls his horse back several steps.

“Bad ideas are what we do best.” Sam grins, dismounting his horse. “He’s right. Don’t be scared, boy. You’re safe with us.” Dean jumps to the ground, helping Young Masbath down.

They tie their horses to a tree and head toward the cave, stalking carefully on the approach.

“Do we...knock?” Sam whispers, looking at his brother.

Dean shrugs, hand on the butt of his pistol. “Sure.” Sam taps on the door twice, and it flops to and fro, clearly ajar.

Looking back at his two companions, Sam raises his eyebrows and ducks down to prowl inside. The walls are covered with skins and skeletons. Sam freezes when he spots her, across the cave is an old crone, facing away from them, motionless. Everything about her is gray, from her hair to her rotting skin. They all share a look as Sam clears his throat lightly. “Pardon our intrusion…”

There’s no response, so Sam edges forward.

“Are you from the Hollow?” Her voice is broken, fractured sounds only held together by the rasping of her throat. “In a way,” Dean affirms, leaving Young Masbath behind him to join Sam. Dean taps his brother’s arm, bringing his attention to the table beside them. It’s littered with gourd bowls of dead insects, dried leaves, acorns, knives, scissors, and yellowed bones. “I would like to say,” Sam inches closer. “We make no assumptions about your occupation, rather, your ways witch-which are nothing new to us. To each their own.” The Crone places something on a table beside her, a dead bird, a bright red cardinal. Sam begins to back away, but Dean stops him. “Do you know of the Horseman, ma'am? The Hessian?” Dean finds his voice.

The Crone draws her finger across her neck. “That'll be him, miss.” The elder Winchester snickers.

Around her neck is a cord on which is threaded a carved stone, a mystic bauble, they both notice. The Crone stands tall and faces them, pointing to Sam.

“You, follow me.” She curls her finger. “Get out, child,” she instructs Young Masbath. “Keep away. No matter what you hear, keep away.” Sam looks back to Dean who’s standing his ground. “She wants you, not me.” The crone takes a candle and heads deeper into the cave and Sam follows her through the passage,terrified and bent under the low ceiling. “Um, what might he hear that he must keep away from?” “Sit here,” she instructs. Sam sits on a crooked stool. The Crone kneels with her back to him, grasping two metal cuffs with chains attached, sliding them onto her wrists, testing them. “He rides to the Hollow and back. I hear him. I smell the blood on him,” she grits.

“Do you,” he stops trying to find the right question. “We’re here to find him, to make him stop.”

“You want to see into the netherworld? I can show you.”

She gathers straw in a pile on the floor, then bowls, putting grass and powder on the pile, fussing over it. Then takes a jar from a table. “What are you doing?” Sam watches intently, he’s scared but even more entranced. This is old magic he didn’t believe existed in these modern times.

The Crone shakes one jar, pulling the lid off and upends it. A baby bat squirms, dazed. The Crone grips the bat using a knife to cut off its head, soaking the straw with blood. “Do not move or speak. When the other comes, I will hold him.” She explains calmly and Sam bows his head in confirmation. Using her candle, the Crone lights the straw pile. “The Other?” He asks softly.

“Silence,” she hisses, bending over to inhale the smoke. “He comes now.” The Crone slumps forward to the floor, suddenly immobile with her back to Sam. Wind howls through a hole somewhere in the wall of the cave. Sam looks around, uncertain. “Excuse me...ma'am?” The Crone remains motionless. The wind intensifies, candles blow out. Sam inches closer... “Do you hear me?” he asks again, a bit louder this time.

The Crone jumps erect, spinning - a half-human, half-demon creature, black clawed hands reaching out to Sam. He cries out, leaping backward. The chain on the restraining cuffs around its hands goes taut, yanking the creature back. Sam knocks over a table of bones, hits the floor. The creature is chained, but still wants Sam. It shrieks. Its face still seethes from transformation. “You seek the warrior bathed in blood, the Headless Horseman.” Sam scrambles to his feet as the creature claws the rock floor, yearning. “Follow the Indian trail to where the sun dies. Follow to the Tree of the Dead.”  The creature yanks, testing the chains. Behind, the bolt holding the chains slips, the wall cracking. “Climb down to the Horseman's resting place. Do you hear?” Sam nods, quaking, aghast. He glances back, wishing Dean were here to witness this horrific display. The chain bolt gives more,  it’s coming loose. Sam flees toward the door. The creature howls, leaping when the chain bolt breaks. Sam shouts as he's tackled to the floor. But when he looks up it’s only the crone lying on him. She’s returned to her human form, semi-conscious as Sam shoves her off him and to the floor. Sam sprints out from the cave, past Dean and Young Masbath. “We are leaving.”

“What happened?” Dean asks, watching Sam mount his horse.

“We are leaving, now.” Sam offers no room for dissent.

“Stop and talk to me, brother.” Dean claps a hand on Sam’s saddle horn.

“I cannot pretend to understand what’s happening in this place. But a spirit spoke to me.” Sam’s face is ashen. Dean stares at him a moment longer, then wordlessly mounts his own horse.

Sam, Dean, and Young Masbath ride side by side. "Take the Indian trail...to the Tree of the Dead.” Sam repeats, scanning the trees around him. “How will we recognize it?” Young Masbath asks. “Without difficulty, I rather fear,” Dean snorts.

“And climb down to the Horseman's resting place, she said.” Sam recites for the tenth time, as the repetition will hold the words in his memory.

“His camp?” Dean wonders out loud. “His grave.” Sam’s sure of it.

Somewhere in the woods is a snapping branch that breaks the silence. The three look back.

“There’s someone out there.” Dean listens, eyes fluttering closed as he tilts his head toward the sound.

“We need a better vantage point.” Sam searches their surrounds. “Up there.”

They charge up the hill, halting the horses, the constables dismounting. Sam and Dean hand off the reins to Young Masbath and draw their guns.

“Ride on,” Dean whispers to the boy, who obeys immediately. The Winchesters wade into forest growth, backtracking the route they just took. Moving through the underbrush, keeping low. There’s the snort of a horse and they look to each in unspoken communication. They come up behind a figure in a gray cloak on horseback. Dean nods at Sam, both men raising their pistols, cocking the hammers. “Halt and turn! There are pistols aimed.” Sam’s voice booms through the forest.

The figure stops, pushes off the cloak hood. “It is me.” You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, looking at the two men who have their weapons trained on you.

“Y/N,” Sam lowers his gun. “We might have killed you. Why are you here?”

“Because no one else would go with you,” you answer honestly, watching the wonderful, faint smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. He’s heartened by your presence.

“I am now twice the man.” Sam reaches out, taking your hand, helping you off your steed. The feel of his hand on yours makes your cheeks flush.

Dean sighs averting his gaze, looking toward the tree line. “It is your white magic.” Sam grins, one hand curling around your waist.

Your eyes meet and he leans closer, unphased by his brother who stands only feet away.

“Pardon my intrusion…” Young Masbath steps out of the woods.

“Oh please,” Dean smiles, patting the boy's shoulder. “No one has ever had more perfect timing my young man.”

“I think you'd better come and look at this, constables.” You follow the boy, Sam reaching behind to take your hand, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by his brother. Your fingers thread between his, a thrilling reminder of how large every part of him seems to be. The four of you come into a clearing, slowing your pace to look up at the monstrously huge Tree of the Dead at the center of the clearing. Its branches reach far and wide, knotted and gross, like agony captured in wood sculpture. “The Tree of the Dead,” Dean mutters, awestruck. “It does announce itself,” you whisper in confirmation, transfixed by the arboreal terror before you.

Without looking back Sam gives your hand a squeeze, before relinquishing his hold. He crosses a line beyond which grass and weeds will not grow. The three of you follow. Sam stares up into the endless, dead canopy of branches. There's a vertical wound in the bark, like a terrible suture, now healed and scarred. Sam reaches out, finger sinking into the mushy scar, picking at its scabs till sap begins to run. Red sap. Sam coats his fingers and brings them to his nose, sniffing. “Blood.” He looks to Dean.

“The tree bleeds? How can it be?” you ask, stepping forward to look at the evidence.

Dean turns back to the horses, pulling two hand axes from the saddlebags. “What is it?” Young Masbath looks on, shaking in fright.

“Move back.” Sam locks eyes with you, sending a thrill of excitement down your spine, despite this perilous situation. At the trunk, Dean hands Sam an ax, thumping the flat end of it against the suture. It sounds hollow. They look to each other, and in accord they begin to chop. Dean sinks in first, pulling away loose bark. The tree drips more blood and a sickening goo. Sam uses both hands on the ax to hack at the festering suture. “What are you doing?” You stand on your toes, trying to look around the men.

“Just...keep where you are.” Sam instructs, fixated on the task at hand.

Young Masbath moves closer as the men keep chopping. Dean grips a large, loose flap, trying to pull it away. It's not easy. Sam joins him and they both struggle. You follow Young Masbath's slow advance. Both men give a menacing heave and the flap suddenly gives, revealing a blood-soaked, wide-eyed, gape-mouthed human head. Sam recoils, Dean covers his mouth. Behind them, you stifle a scream, clasping both hands over your mouth. Sam cocks his head, getting a closer look. It is Philipse’s head, hanging off the trunk flap, held by roots grown around and into the flesh. Four other severed, decaying heads are held by ingrown roots within the dewy innards. One of the heads is Jonathan Masbath's. Before Young Masbath sees it, you hide his face, drawing him to you as he buries his head in your arms.

“My God,” you stammer, fear and confusion twisting in your belly. “He tries to take the heads back with him, but they will not pass,” Sam thinks out loud.

“We must leave this place,” you call out, gaining the attention of both men.

Sam looks to the branches towering above. ”This is a gateway, between two worlds.” Dean studies the ground, circling the trunk, around the other side he gets to his knees. There he’s found the Horseman’s sword, a grave marker, jutting up from the ground, rusted twenty years' worth, gripped by the tree trunk and vines. Sam joins his brother, touching the ground with blood-stained fingers. “Climb down to the Horseman’s resting place.”

“Bring the shovels,” Dean calls out. Both men look up to the sight of you holding the boy, looking on in horror. “Forgive me.” Dean backtracks. Young Masbath courageously recovers himself, wiping his eyes and nose on the back of his sleeve. “Yes, sir, the shovels. Two shovels and the rifle, I suggest.” The sun is setting as you watch them dig by lantern light. Young Masbath is crouched, rifle across his knees. He watches the tree, looking up at the swarm of bats in the high branches. Sam and Dean both stand in a shallow grave. “This ground has been disturbed, the soil is loose.” Sam looks from his brother to you, throwing down his shovel. You and Young Masbath come to the edge of the grave. Sam pulls at thick burlap cloth covered heavy with dirt, straining as it comes away. Sam drops the burlap, looking down, disbelieving. “Dean, look!” The roots have gripped the Horseman’s bones and tattered uniform. The skeleton is all there, except the skull. “The skull is gone. What does it mean?” You scowl, looking away from the putrid sight. Sam jumps out from the grave. “It means, my dear Miss Van Tassel, it means...yes! What exactly does it mean? It definitely means something, only time will tell! But I sense that we are very close to the answer here.” Both Winchesters are both so caught up in the bones in front of them that they seem oblivious to the ground undulating beneath their feet. “Sam!” you shriek as he turns to look you. You grab Young Masbath, backing away as the roots in the grave come alive, entwining around the remains.

“Something is happening,” Dean draws Sam’s attention to the twisted tree behind them. The vertical suture seethes, pulling inward, sucking Philipse’s head back in and closing, bubbling at the edges. “Run!” Sam bounds over the grave, with Dean at his heels. He grabs you without slowing. Two big hands curl around your waist, plucking you off the ground as he heads for cover on the other side of the clearing.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, you can look behind him, the tree swelling and pulsing, the leaking scar moments from bursting open. Once Sam passes the bucking horses, he slips into the tree line, setting you down and moving to the forefront, putting himself between you and impending terror. There’s a rumbling coming from the tree as you peek around Sam to watch the spectacle. The wound bursts wide open, spitting smoldering cinders into the air.

From the open portal a glow brightens, and without warning, The Headless Horseman on his mighty steed, Daredevil, explodes into existence. The horse’s hooves hit the ground running, the ground shaking as horse and rider ride away, bolts of lightning striking the earth behind them. “Did you see that!” Sam shouts to Dean, both men look strangely excited for having just witnessed such a horrifying event.

“We have to go!” Dean responds, both of them already running toward their horses.

“Go straight home!” Sam calls back to you and Young Masbath. “Don’t stop for anything!” You call after him but there’s no stopping the Winchesters as they give chase, horses rearing up on two legs before speeding away in hot pursuit. Trees are silhouetted against the sky.

As the horseman’s hoofbeats grow faster, branches bending like arms and fingers yearning to touch. As the horseman roars past, and in turn, the trees relax. The Horseman rides fast with Sam and Dean behind him. There’s no keeping up and they slow, trying to decide what route he’s taken. “There!” Dean points to the distance, the sky is lit up. There’s a fire. The old crone’s cave is vomiting flames when they arrive. Embers swirling in the night air, the men dismount, heading closer to the cave as Dean slips on a blood covered rock, landing very close to the crone’s headless body. Dean recoils, crawling away, looking at the carnage in disbelief.

The corpse lies near the cave entrance. The jagged skin of the neck wound still bleeds. The ground and dead leaves around the corpse are thick with blood.  Sam walks back to the crone,  her headless neck has been cut and the carved Bauble is missing. They hear a Horse neighing in the trees, and the sound of the horse crashing through the undergrowth. They can hear him departing but can see nothing.

[abubblingcandle]

NADDPOD Manchester Summary

Just thought I did a highlights bit but while it is fresh in my mind you guys might appreciate a summary. If I have forgotten anything please let me know!

The scene starts between adventures on the deck of the Stormborn over the ocean. There are puffins floating on the sea below and a peaceful quiet. The Band of Boobs sails the ship down low and scoops a puffin on board. The next eight hours are spent by Moonshine attempting to awaken the puffin. She does so successfully and Hardwon names the puffin Peter. Peter is not sure about his new found intelligence and begins an existential crisis about how his life before was worthless. 

A raven flies down and lands on the ship with a note tied to his leg. It is quickly realised this is not Caw Caw and Hardwon laments that Caw Caw is off living his best life somewhere. The note is a note from Ren asking for the help of the Band of Boobs as his family has fallen upon hard times since the crick rebellion ran them out of town. He asks for their help to retrieve an idol made of arcanium from an old temple on his family’s summer island and offers to split the profits with them if they succeed. The band of boobs decide to go help Ren as in the end they could just steal the idol from him for themselves. Ren’s island is in a little archipelago of islands and has a lovely beach with a house built out of the cliff and an infinity hot tub over looking the sea. 

I can’ t remember the exact details of the exchange when they arrive but Rin things the boobs are hired help and tries to order them about. Ren offers them towels, Moonshine strips and changes into the towel. Ren tries to identify with Bev about how mad these poor people are and out of solidarity Bev also changes into the towel but to preserve his modest enlists an air elemental servant to help him out of his armour behind the towel. Rin offers them to stay for a dinner of puffin (much to Peter and Moonshine’s outrage). Instead they leave to the temple to retrieve the idol. Ren changes into an all silk Indiana Jones outfit and gives Beverly a matching one which he changes into.

They arrive at the temple, it is a temple with a stone carving of what looks like a bullywug king and some words underneath and the first roll of the whole session is a history check by Beverly or Moonshine to read some variant of elvish. Caldwell gets a nat 20 and identifies this as the bullywug language and translates “Squash the ant, step on the ladbug but be kind to gullywugs” (that was the gist can’t remember the exact words). 

Everyone tries to convince Ren to go first but Ren refuses insisting the poor people go first. Caldwell rolls a persuasion check and gets another nat20. Ren charges into the temple up the stairs and falls off a ledge with a scream. The Boobs follow him down and find the shit being kicked out of him by a giant stone ant and a giant stone ladybug. There is also a giant stone gullywug lingering back near a throne. They dive into the battle. Moonshine throws an unconscious Ren out of the way of the stone gollums and Bev uses Ren as a spring board to touch hands him and stab at the ladybug. They try to negotiate with the ladybug but it has plans on world domination, eradicating all other life so the world is only populated by ladybugs. Moonshine relates but it is discovered that this is actually only a giant stone beetle with spots painted on but he desperately wants to be a ladybug. Ren turns invisible to avoid the fight like the coward he is. They kill the ladybug but Moonshine promises to pass on its message in the outside world. Hardwon uses his new found Animal Husbandry proficiency (which Murph found absolutely hilarious) to befriend the giant stone ant and rolls a nat20. The ant lets Hardwon ride it and stops attacking, Hardwon calls him Anthony. Beverly dashes up to the stone Gullywug and brushes its teeth. The gullywug proclaims “you have been kind to the gullwugs” confirming that the riddle outside was instructions. Hardwon is devasted at the loss of his new friend but uses the towel to cover his eyes as Moonshine, Balnor and Bev finish the ant. The Gullywug gives them a key before disappearing. 

Caldwell gets a nat20 on an investigation check and finds a key hole in the seat of the throne. It opens into a chute leading into darkness. Moonshine shouts down and rolls a nat 1 on an investigation check. She is convinced that Cooter is down there as a crick elf is shouting and dives down head first taking about 20 damage. Bev uses featherfall on himself and Balnor and Hardwon grasps Ren to use his ring as they dive down too. It is pitch black but Bev uses the radiant light from his sword to illuminate the room through the unnatural blackness. There is a giant pit about 60ft in diameter with a plinth with the idol on in the middle. Hardwon throws Beverly who uses the whip from his costume to grip the plinth and pull himself up (another nat20 and after this one Caldwell kissed the dice and threw it into the crowd). Hardwon is convinced it was a great throw from him. Caldwell uses an investigate check to find that the room is booby trapped with spears in the walls. Bev grabs the idol and misty steps back over the pit. They all run and try to climb the chute. Bev goes first and races up, Balnor follows more slowly, Moonshine casts jump on Hardwon before climbing, Ren casts fly on only himself and Hardwon jumps up. On the way out of the crumbling temple Moonshine grabs a bit of the stone beetle/ladybug. When they leave the temple the idol has a prerecorded warning but Ren grabs it and smashes the idol into five pieces before it can finish. 

Turns out arcanium can be used to power wish spells and is nothing to do with the drug R-Cane which pisses off Hardwon as he only came for the drugs. They return to the house as nothing happened when Ren smashed the idol. When they return to the house Rin has bought some dwarorphans as slaves which infuriates Hardwon but he is talked down with a promise of the hot tub. Hardwon summons the dwarven daddies who have a great time. Moonshine summons some otters and it turns out Ren is incredibly afraid of otters. Earlier (cannot remember at which point) Bev gave Peter the amulet which upset Paw Paw so he gave Paw Paw some frosted cheerios. They free Peter to do whatever he wants forgetting he has the amulet and he flies off with it.

It starts to rain, getting worse and worse causing the hot tub to flood and the house to begin to fall apart. Beverly magics an umbrella to make it wind proof (another nat20) and it turns into a holy relic with the same powers as the amulet. Gullywugs climb out of the ocean and the king Gullywug is stood atop a rock. The gullwugs are angry about the destruction of their temple; they demand a sacrifice. The boobs try and sacrifice Ren who uses time stop to run away. Moonshine tries to convince the gullywug king that they can have the island back as their home and rolls a nat 20 on the persuasion check (Murph is getting more and more annoyed at this point with these rolls). The gullywugs agree only if the boobs help them fix the hot tub. 

Moonshine casts locate object on Ren so they can convince him to use the wish spell using the arcanium as none of them have the spell. They find him in a cabinet in the basement of the house. Time stop used Ren’s last ninth level spell and so they convince Rin to do it instead. I can’t remember the lie they came up with but Caldwell gets another nat 20 and Rin agrees to use the wish spell to get Hardwon a giant real ant. Moonshine also uses reincarnate to turn the bit of stone bettle into a real ladybug. The gullywugs protest the giant ant and try to kill it. Hardwon calls the dwarorphans onto the ants back and they escape into the sunset.

Quotes!

1) Murph: I knew it, I knew when I put the puffins there you were going to do this but I did it anyway

2) Emily: I charge at Rin shouting it’s a crick rebellion then stop as I just reach him and say just kidding 

Murph: Rin shits himself

3) Moonshine: Well actually you can have my towel Rin as I have never been more dry in my life

[dailyaudiobible]

01/14/2020 DAB Transcript

Genesis 30:1-31:16, Matthew 10:1-23, Psalms 12:1-8, Proverbs 3:13-15

Today is the 14th day of January, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is a pleasure and an honor to be here with you today as we take our…as we take our places around the Global Campfire and just exhale. Has it been…how’s it been, the beginning of the year for you, hectic or smooth or whatever? Whatever it is there's this place that we come to hear from God, and we let His word reach into our lives. And, so we have this one place where we can just exhale and just let the Bible speak to us. So let's get to that. We’re reading from the Christian Standard Bible this week. And we’ve got this drama, this considerable family drama happening in the Old Testament where this man Jacob who got married and woke up to the wrong girl and then a week later got the right girl, but now he's married to two sisters and that's not going so great. And that's where we pick up the story. Genesis chapter 30, verse 1 through 31 verse 16.

Commentary:

Okay. So, yesterday in the book of Matthew we actually just kinda did a deep dive into the back story, like all the different things, the disruptions, the subversion that Jesus message was bringing, especially the disruption to those who were devout religious leaders. And we talked about how they were like, “you know, the reason He can do the stuff that He's doing is because He's empowered by the evil one to do these things”, which Jesus will address that plenty of times. And, so, we’ll talk about that when we get there, but the bottom line was that yesterday's reading gave us a glimpse into what Jesus was seeing. He was seeing a human harvest on behalf of God bringing Earth's people back to God and He was out in the harvest doing that. And we need to notice what He was doing, because what He wasn't doing was coming up with an evangelism curriculum. What He was doing was talking about the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of God and awakening people's awareness to it. He was telling them that the thing they have been waiting for is already happening if they have eyes to see and ears to hear. And then He was demonstrating that reality through His ministry works. And then He’s kind of lamenting to His disciples, “this is a big harvest. The harvest is ready, but the laborers are few. Pray that they'll be more, more to go do what I'm doing.” So, we moved into Matthew chapter 10 the day and Jesus is commissioning His disciples to go and do exactly that. He’s sending them into this harvest He was talking about. So, if this is the first opportunity for us to see Jesus sending out friends that He loves, His closest people, sending them out into the harvest, then we should pay attention. So, I’m quoting the Bible here. “Summoning His 12 disciples, He gave them authority over unclean spirits, to drive them out and to heal every disease and sickness.” May I point out that it wasn't Jesus death and resurrection, His work on the cross that made this possible. He hasn't gone there yet. These are just 12 people that Jesus picked who are ordinary human beings and He’s basically saying, “look, just go do what you’ve seen Me do.” So, He gave them instructions to equip them on this mission on this journey. So, let’s take a look at what He said to do or don't do. “Don't”, he says, “take the road that leads to the Gentiles and don't enter any Samaritan town. Instead, go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Okay, so we can read that and go like, “well, the mission of the world of all the world's people is try to tell the house of Israel that they’re lost sheep and should return to God.” And we could look at something like this, Jesus saying like, don't go to the Gentiles, don't go to Samaritans. Just go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel and…and…and go like…scratch our heads and say, “what? Is this not like kind of in conflict with the apostle Paul, whose saying that the work of Jesus was to bring everyone, all nations together back to God. Isn’t that the story that God told Abraham, the story that we’re reading through now in the Old Testament now, that all nations of the earth would be blessed through Him? So, why is Jesus just being so exclusionary and so exclusive here?” And believe me, there's plenty of different doctrines, different ways that people have interpreted and tried to live out what Jesus is depicting here. Since we know from the beginning of the story with Abraham, and since we know through the writings of the apostle Paul that yes, in fact, Jesus did come to restore all of the earth's people back to Himself - no Jew, no Greek, no male, no female etc. etc., that Jesus isn’t giving an exclusionary instruction here, He's telling them to go to their people. These are uneducated Hebrew fishermen for the most part, and tax collectors, zealots, like different kind of Hebrew people, but they have that in common. So, He’s not asking them to go without any education whatsoever into cultures they absolutely do not understand and have never had any kind of interaction. He’s saying like, “go into the harvest in the world that you live in in the culture that you understand and as you do it, proclaim that the kingdom of heaven has come near. And it's interesting because Jesus pitch isn't, “hey, your lost without me. Accept me. His pitch is, “the kingdom of heaven has come near, the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” This is the message that was awakening the hearts of Jesus hearers and there was a reason and they were misinterpreting it. They’d been waiting for this. They were waiting for a Messiah, a Redeemer, somebody to come and announce the kingdom of heaven is at hand and get everybody to rise up and revolt against these evil Romans who are occupying their ancestral land, which hadn't been their own land for well over a millennia. So, Jesus saying, “the kingdom of heaven is at hand” awakened things inside of them and they thought this was going to manifest itself in unified Israel when all Jesus was saying is, “if you have eyes to see or ears to hear you will see that God is never stopped working among you. You have silenced Him. Wake up and see what's actually happening and what's actually available right now if you simply have eyes to see it. And it's no different for us today. We share in the same kinds of blindness is and Jesus came to awaken us. So, he tells them, “go. Like, go. Proclaim the kingdom of heaven has come near.” And then He’s like, “heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those with leprosy, drive out demons.” Like…like just go do those four things. That’s just a whole complete sentence. It…I'm just like thinking to myself if I'm standing there in the crowd of friends and Jesus is like, “look go heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those with leprosy, drive out demons.” I'd…like you don't even know what to do with a command or even an indentation like that. And He's just saying it matter-of-factly because He's just been doing it matter-of-factly. And e can think that He can just do it that way because He's the son of the living God and yet He's telling His friends who have no education, who do not understand theology, who are not practitioners of doctrine, He’s telling them to simply go and do what they've seen Him do. And then He tells them, “freely you have received, freely give” right? Like this is a wide-open posture. We’re not trying to carve off a little piece of the action for ourselves that we can hide in a tent somewhere under the ground. We’re not angling for how the optics of our ministry might look and who might be able to see us being all holy and pious. Jesus hated that kind of stuff. That's the kind of stuff He goes after in the Gospels because it’s false. It's a veneer of falseness. It's a curated reality that's not real that we can even deceive our own selves into believing but it's not true or real. And Jesus can't stand what's false because it's a lie, it's a deception, it's the cloud that plagues the human race. It's the thing that's been going on since the Garden of Eden and the deception of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. When we look at Jesus we see a person who sees this clearly and is working diligently to do everything conceivable to get people to wake up to what's going on so that they can become aware and change the story. And it’s a wide open story. “Freely you received, freely give. Don’t acquire gold, silver or copper for your money belts. Don't take a traveling back for the road, extra shirt, sandals or staff. Everybody's worthy of their food” and so on and so forth. And those…like…those last instructions we can be like, “He's sending them out completely unprepared. Anything could go wrong and they won't be prepared to deal with any of it.” So, what can we learn from this? I like to be prepared. In fact, I think obsessively so, like maybe at times even in unhealthy ways to be prepared to care for those who are in my charge, whoever they might be. And, so, I can look at this and see his would be really difficult for me to just walk out my front door and walk into completely unprepared. And that's the thing, that's the thing about Jesus. That's what He was doing. And yet He never…there’s no stories of Jesus staring off into space completely lost, right? There's never a depiction of Him sitting on a rock down by the Sea of Galilee, praying a prayer of like, “what the heck am I doing? I have no idea what the next step is.” He knows when He needs to know. He does what He needs to do. He's always looking behind the false and finding the true and exposing the true. And that causes incredible amounts of disruption because we’re so used to hiding. People don't like that. And yet it's the truth that will bring us into the presence of freedom. So, there’s Jesus instructions. And…and then, like to put the little cherry on top of all of this, Jesus very, very clearly, after he's telling his friends to simply go. He tells them what to expect. “I'm sending you out like sheep among wolves. So, be shrewd as serpent and innocent as a dove. Beware of them, they’ll hand you over the local courts and flog you in their synagogues”, right? Like, that's basically like saying, “they're gonna…they're gonna take you to court and they're gonna drag you into church and beat you up. You'll even be brought before governors and kings because of me to bear witness to them and to the Gentiles. But when they hand you over don't worry about what you’re gonna say. You’ll be given what to say at that hour because it isn't you speaking but it's the Spirit of your Father that’s speaking through you.” And now we get some clues about our own preparedness in our own strength. Jesus is saying, “this kingdom work isn't something that you can simply arrange for by your own brute force. It doesn't work that way. You can begin to do this kingdom work, the kind of work you're seeing Me do when you are out of the way and out of control so that the Spirit of your Father is speaking through you.” Like, I know that we've covered some serious ground here that can feel highly theological in nature. Jesus isn’t making it highly theological though. We just make it highly theological to try to understand what he's saying to do. And what He's saying to do and what He’s saying we are going to be experience as we do it, we should be aware of because, like it's so easy to just sign up for the Santa Claus in the sky, that…that we just have to ask for what we need and He's just gonna drop it in our laps and that's how life is supposed to work and then we’re so angry when it doesn't work that way. And yet here we are in the Bible, Jesus the son of God is speaking here and telling us what our realities are supposed to be like. And how is it that we have such a disconnect? So, He’s like, “I'm sending you out like sheep among wolves and and you gotta be smart about it. You gotta stay innocent. You don't play that game. Just beware. You’re gonna face some opposition. You might be in court. You might…you might get beat up in church. You…you might be brought before governors and kings but you…you’re gonna bear witness. You’re gonna reveal the kingdom in that situation. So, don't worry about what you’re gonna say. It’s not gonna be you speaking. You’ve simply become open and available to go into this situation so that God can speak through you to them. It's not about you. Brother will betray brother to death. Father will betray his child. Children will rise up against their parents and have them put to death. You’re gonna be hated by everyone because of my name but the one who endures to the end will be saved.” That's kind of Jesus pitch. So, why are we so confused when what H says would happen, does? There’s a concept that's kind of being introduced here. There's a theme that threads its way through the teachings of Jesus and through all of the teachings of the New Testament and that is that if you want to truly live then you first have to die to yourself. And now we are beginning to see what that might look.

Prayer:

Jesus, we love You, we trust You, we believe You, and yet what You're saying it kind of disconnects when we actually experience challenge and opposition. We very, very much want to live into our identity as Your children so we focus very diligently on who are in You and what we can do because of You. And yet we are watching You in the gospel of Matthew. We are watching You, light in the darkness, people amazed and overwhelmed. We are watching this, but we are also watching the darkness envelop and try to smother You. And You are simply saying, “You need to be awake. You need to be aware. You need to be as shrewd as a serpent. You need to be innocent as a dove because the darkness is going to do everything it can to swallow You too.” And yet, we acknowledge that You have told us we are the light of the world. And, so, help us Father understand what that means and how important that is and how vital, how vital it is that we stay true and that we allow Your work to remove from us what is false so that we too can announce the kingdom and live in the light as You are in the light, no matter what the darkness may do. Come Holy Spirit we pray in Jesus, Your precious name, we ask. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I will be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hey DAB this is Kathleen in Mount Zion Illinois and I’m just calling today for an urgent prayer request. I’m sorry…I feel awful, you can hear me. So, my daughter…my whole family was just together in San Diego and things seemed….things seemed to be well and then everybody flew back to their own places and my daughter went to Dubai where she lives Abu Dhabi in Dubai, anyway that area and she’s been having migraines and found out that there is lesions on her brain and…and some odd shaped things on her brain, some oval-shaped things. They don’t know what they are and so they’re gonna do another MRI. They have to wait until February for some reason. And I just want everyone to pray that these things will go away, the way that this will be healed before her next MRI. And also, I need a way to get over to see her and so that she won’t be alone during this time. And any way so, we are working on all that and I just…I just pray people that…that this will be a miracle will happen here and that this will all be healed. So, I was just hoping you could pray with me and thank you so much family.

Good morning, this is Duncan Holmes from Fredericksburg Texas. I’m a first…I…I think I’ve sent recordings before, but I think only one was successful. So, let’s pray in the two minutes I have. I am totally blind, so I don’t know when this thing shuts off until voiceover tells me. And, so, when I’m recording, I don’t have voiceover. Let’s pray. Father God I bring Reed to you and any others on this community line that are hurting whatever is happening apply Father your balm of Gilead, apply whatever would take to comfort them, to walk them through whatever they’re all going through for Reed especially. It breaks my heart when people are…are…when I hear the needs and I hear the hurt. Father, the same…for the same for this one who calls herself Anonymous. Father may she find…she find comfort in your word and might she stay the path…the course. Father I don’t know what all to pray. I’m being general here. I don’t know to pray specifically. I thank you for this community. You’ve kept me in this group for five years now. My wife is now gone on to be with you back in October. She and I did this together every day except we didn’t always do the prayer…didn’t always go through the prayers. So, Lord I just ask you to…I just submit all of these to you Jesus and I know that time is limited so I better quit. Thank You Lord for hearing my prayer. Please…please be merciful. Amen.

Morning family I don’t normally do mornings at least not this early. It’s Paul from Wales. To the chap in Chicago whose voice was breaking, you were in my prayers straightaway. I could feel it in your voice. Please feel free, ring back with more. I’ll have a look on the Prayer While perhaps tomorrow see if there’s anything specific to pray about. Also just wanted to thank family whoever had those children that ring in with their prayers. Both my children are fully grown apples and it’s so lovely, it brought back memories of when they first committed their lives to God. And like so many young people, they go their own way. So, this morning Lord I just pray for all those people who gave their lives to you as youngsters and ask that they reconnect with you and come back and make this family so much bigger, so more effective and so more evangelical in your name so that mission might put some right back in this world. Amen.

Hi, DABbers this is Jean I’m calling in again with a prayer request for the persecuted church. If you remember I called in about Afghanistan and Algeria and I was going in alphabetical order, but I wanted to quickly step out of order to pray for Nigeria, the Nigerian church. I don’t know if you’ve heard but over Christmas there were 11 Nigerian Christians killed in an Isis Christmas video. The Nigerian church is extremely persecuted and suffering a lot right now and again I’m getting this information from the voice of the martyrs, but it is sharply divided along religious lines. There are about 80 million professing Christians in Nigeria. There are a lot of Islamic militant groups that are persecuting them and nearly Christians in northeastern Nigeria have lost family members to Bocu Huram ands and Islamic militants, Islamic violence. There have been entire congregations that have been displaced, pastors have been forced to leave the region. It takes immense courage to continue to serve Christ in this area. There is a need for Bibles in the north and there is an issue with famine as well in the North because of the jihadi activities. Farmers aren’t working because they’re afraid of being attacked and there’s just a lot going on for the Christians in Nigeria. So, I just want to lift them up. Lord Jesus, we pray that You would put Your hands on the Christians in Nigeria and comfort them, that You would encourage them Lord, that You  would fill them with Your spirit and meet all of their needs, provide for their physical, emotional, and psychological needs Lord comfort them as they grieve. Give them courage in the midst of danger. I pray that You would give them hearts of forgiveness towards their persecutors and that Your word and Your gospel would spread. I pray this in Jesus’ name.

Hey Anonymous my sister, this is Michael from Arizona. I’ve got a new name for you to call the Lord. Brian had…when Brian read it your face and thoughts of you came into my mind and it was thre name that Haggai referred to the Lord. She said, “you are the Lord who sees me, you are the God who sees me.” And I think that’s a beautiful, intimate way to to refer to the Lord. Not only is it acknowledging that He sees your innermost parts and every part of you, but it also acknowledges that you reveal yourself to Him and are vulnerable to Him and open yourself like a flower. It’s very intimate and draws you closer and I just I think it’s an awesome name for you to for you to refer to the Lord. I think it’s an answer to your prayer and I so admire your vulnerability in calling in and turning to the Lord, turning to the DABber prayer line and being vulnerable. Ahh…I have trouble pronouncing that word. Anyway, I love you sis. Hang in there and tell all that negativity to take a hike. You don’t have time for it because life is so full. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Hi Brian and the Daily Audio Bible community family my name’s Diana Davis and I’m the one that wrote Jewels of the Bible. I took the Bible line by line. I pulled out the verses and made them rhyme. __ the Bible I took it line by line but I’m leaving it to the world and I just got the news that I thought I was gonna get today and my…my cancer started out in my breasts and it metastasized to my brain and I had __ head radiation and they laser __ each one but I went back for my CT today and they’re all over my head and they said the only thing that they can do is put a drill and then inject chemo into my brain but he said that he wouldn’t recommend that for his wife or…or whatever, that it would…I wouldn’t be the same afterwards. So, I did everything that I’m supposed to do, that they’re supposed to do, and it’s…it’s at a stop where there’s…there’s no more to go. So, my husband after 25 years, 2 weeks after I was diagnosed drank and drank and drank and got real…so I had to get him out. I have two autistic boys ages 19 and 22. My prayer is quickly, my son Elijah he’s 19 but he’s severely autistic but I’m so…I know God’s gonna take care of it, I know, but please pray that Elijah and Michael get to stay together because my older son who’s also autistic but highly, he’s been on the __ about three years but he said his biggest fear is getting separated from Elijah. I’ve got them all set up with everything that I can possibly do but I just need your help and prayers because there’s so many people that can listen and pray for my son Elijah. He’s autistic and he’s so sweet, such a sweet boy. And he’s going to be really sad. And I know this is more than two minutes, but Brian the Daily Audio Bible and Jill says the Bible, you inspired that. I’ve been listening to you every day for 13 years Elijah is…

Hey Lee in Chicago it’s your brother Bart in Kentucky. I heard your call today, your prayer request on January 7th and I want you to know that I’m praying for you and I know many others are too. I’m sorry that you’re having to go through these tough times where everything seems like it’s falling apart. I understand completely. So, keep praying to the Lord. Keep asking him to hold your hand as you walk through this troubling landscape. He won’t let you go brother and we’ll keep praying for you. Call in and let us know how we can further pray for you in detail so that we know what’s going on with you. We love you. Have a good day. Have a great day everybody, all you DABbers out there. Thank you for your fellowship and thank you Brian and Jill for this podcast.

[nekoaihime]

Sealed with a Kiss?

Series: Fairy Tail Setting: AU!Verse Pairing: NaLu Genre: Romance, Fantasy Summary: Unsealing a Demon from its prison was hardly a thing she planned for, but what was she to do when said Demon would not leave her alone?! A/N: When Edens Zero hasn’t given enough to write a good thing yet, I fall back on my favourite pairing.............with random ideas. :D I’m too tired and lazy to vet through this properly....................                                                                   [ Read on AO3 ] 

There was nothing vaguely familiar about her surroundings ( besides green, green and more green ), though the woman could hardly fault anyone but herself. She was supposed to be holed up ‘safely’ in her ‘house’, yet she found herself wandering in the midst of a forest despite clear instructions to remain indoors. What was a young woman to do, trapped within four walls with absolutely nothing? It was a house, but it lacked the intimacy and warmth a home should have. Whilst she was reluctantly used to dissociation, it had been weeks, and the world beckoned and screamed her name. Exploration was a must for a new city, even a new town, but in a rural area like such where televisions were a rare thing? An adventure was the only thing that promised diverting experience.  Thus she had sneaked out of her prison, with a carefully packed bag in preparation, and her cell phone ( though it had no reception, it could function as a light if her flashlight failed her ). What could go wrong? She was careful, and she knew where she wanted to scout. There was a waterfall near a series of caves, a beautiful sight surely to inspire better writing. A few pictures would do no harm either. A picturesque location, would that not be a great place to relax? If she was to keep out of sight; trekking through the woods seemed like a far better alternative to the concrete cell they called a house in the middle of a quiet town. 

Except, she was supposed to trek and wander, not slip, fall and become exceedingly lost as her paper map fluttered away into the depths of the woods. Her ankle, twisted, throbbed obnoxiously as she trudged, filthy outwear tied lazily onto the straps of her bag. The tank top was a far better choice for meandering through the thicket, she reasoned, though sulky that her jacket was now sullied with mud. Her shorts revealed the worst of her plunge; bloodied and bruised skin peeking through fabric.  But she would not last long, not with her injuries, not with her ribs still healing from the trauma before. The trauma that sent her to this forsaken place. She ought to be grateful that she still lived, but still she desired her own life back. It was taking far too long, just as it was taking her far too long to make her way somewhere safe. There were no wild beasts, as far as she could recall, but night would fall soon, and she had no wish of camping outdoors with nothing for the chill that was sure to set. A jacket would do little while she remained exposed under the wide sky. If she could not find her way out, she would have to find some shelter, at the very least.  She attempted to still her anxious heart, attempted to pay heed to her surroundings like she had researched. If she found the water source, she would find the caves -- that would have to do for the night. She needed to refill her bottle too, and hoped fervently that the water was not contaminated. Nothing like a stomachache to ruin the impromptu camping trip. She groused, but ultimately, the blame was upon her. She made her choices, now she had to live with them, all of them. Nonetheless, be it by a stroke of pure luck, or simply the newfound survival skills she recently developed, booted feet finally came across a stream. Upon her knees she went, finishing up the rest of the bottled water she brought before she splashed the refreshing coolness upon weary face, and slowly begun the arduous process of cleansing what wounds she could find. After filling up her bottle, she would have to go against the flow of the stream to find the caves by the waterfall. And she needed to hurry.  Her mobile phone still had no reception, but the time ticked by and she noted with chagrin that sunset was but a mere hour away. There was little time to lose. Thus she hobbled along with haste, sparing little breaks for her swelling ankle. Pain was one thing, but she had far more to lose if she stayed in the wilderness. The food in her bag would last her the night and more, her jacket would make a passable blanket.... If she could survive that, she could survive the night.  She barely made it. There was no time to admire the waterfall in the dimming light, though she spared the rejuvenating cascades a glance of appreciation and a quick snap of camera. She would have the time to do properly so tomorrow, for now, she needed to pick a suitable cave before her world was plunged into darkness. She had no ability nor tools to start a fire, though knowledge told her that sticks were sufficient. Light and warmth would escape her tonight unless her choice cave contained twigs of salvation. Carefully she peered; a feeble attempt to select one -- but she had no clues.  She allowed Fate to make the choice, and that, perhaps, was the biggest mistake she made.  Eyes squeezed shut, she summoned her intense desire for warmth and safety, imaging it into an arrow and assigning it the task of selection. It was not the mental arrow that guided her, however, but a sensation of what she craved emitting from the distance. It was illogical, how one could sense such a thing, absolutely ridiculous -- but since luck had a way of dancing to her, Lucky Lucy made her way to that particular cave.  It was not much; the entrance smaller than she thought it would be -- she barely managed to squeeze in, but one ought not to judge a book by its cover. Though the access was constraining, the interior of the cave proved to be ample. Enough space for her to sleep, and a small opening to restrict the entry of wind. It would have to do.  Burdensome bag struck the ground with a thump, flashlight obligating with its duty. There were no bones in sight, which was a good sign, it was no creature’s cave, and she would not wake to the terrifying agony of being eaten. Taking a deep breath just to be certain, she noted no lingering whiff of death or meat. She spied a connection of sorts further back, and with mobile phone in hand, elected to explore before she settled down for the night. She wanted to take a look at the swelling ankle, and was sure that she would have zero desire to move after boots were removed. In addition, there seemed to be warmness wafting from further back. If there was a source of warmth, that may be of use. Better to be warmer, after all. She strode, keeping to the stone walls as she made her way deeper, marveling at the capacity. The further she walked, the more she regretted not bringing her bag along. Her indignant stomach growled its displeasure, echoing into the depths of darkness. Groaning, she gritted her teeth, determined to see this through. Already feeling far warmer than she did at the mouth of the cave, curiosity kept her going.  It felt like forever, though her phone inclined to inform her otherwise, yet eventually, she arrived the innermost cavern; the warmest she had felt so far -- nonetheless she found no potential source for the heat, there was naught more than a strange red lizard pinned under a rock. Flashlight found the creature, light bouncing off the scales as tongue flicked. With such visual confirmation, there was no way she could allow it to remain trapped -- she was no cruel human. Like her, the lizard would survive the night, and more.  Thus she edged forward, muttering under her breath in an attempt to comfort herself. It was just a lizard. “Just a lizard.” It was not going to do anything to her. “Don’t jump on me, lizard. That’d be disgusting.” She was no fan of lizards, and who knew what diseases it may have! After all, it barely looked like any lizard she had ever seen before. Not that she studied lizards. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me.” A devout chant she begun as she wedged the torchlight between face and shoulder, preferring to lift the rock with both hands. A devout chant she continued as she struggled with the rock, wondering why it was warm to the touch, and strangely enough, seemed to resonate. “I must be going insane, talking to a lizard and thinking that a rock is ‘resonating’. Maybe the stream’s water wasn’t so good after all....”  She could blame the water for all she wanted, but nothing could quite prepare her for the yell that followed as the lizard darted free and the rock fell to the ground, suddenly far lighter than it had been when she gripped it and freed the animal from what would have been its tombstone in a few days.                                             “I’M NOT A DAMN LIZARD!”  Its howl reverberated through the cavern, though in a different situation lips may curve with amusement at the high-pitched tone. Physically, it seemingly bore no damage from the immobilization of the load recently lifted. Instead upon claws did it rise and hiss, carving deep gouges into the solid stone, huffing a breath of dark flames that singed the edge of her already tattered shorts. She scrambled back with a screech, distressed vox resounding sharply. Despite the throe of pain pounding through her ankle, she wasted no time in patting out the glowing ember and putting as much distance as she could between herself and the demonic lizard. No animal could talk, and certainly no animal could spit fire! A DEMON ! It had to be a demon! She was going to be eaten by a demon because she disobey instructions to stay within her cell.  HOW WAS THIS LUCK?  And here she thought she was lucky to have survived that, and that she would survive the night lost in the woods. She choked on babbled words, a desperate plea for her life, “Please don’t eat me. I swear I probably won’t taste good, I’ve been eating terribly these past few days!” Yet in her unexplained fear, she made eye contact, despite every bone within her willing her not to; and as oculars met and darkness consumed what vision she had, Lucy Heartfilia came to regret her decision to leave the safe house.

                                                              It had to be the water.

IT WAS NOT. It took her a few minutes to properly rouse and consider her current situation, though she had no idea how long she was out cold for; but there was no mistaking the solid ground she laid upon, nor the swell upon head that was sure to grow. The reason was unclear, but somehow, somehow she had managed to lose consciousness upon the sight of the talking lizard; originally assumed ( or so she had desperately hoped ) to be but a hallucination, a result of water unsuitable for quenching thirst. Yet as she stared down at what was the aforementioned lizard, now nestled by her side, looking larger than before, and shockingly producing sufficient heat to keep her warm in the midst of the empty cave.....she was now convinced that she had either left the realm of the living and now resided in some strange form of hell -- or that demons definitely existed.  After all, what else would explain those sentient crimson eyes staring up at her and how tongue flicked across scrapped skin, or how its jaws parted and uttered words she would never imagine from a lizard?                                            “You’re pretty weak, aren’t you?” Feet crept up her form, though she was thankful to note the lack of deadly claws ripping skin apart ( especially when they so easily carved the solid rock ground ), still her writer brain churned terrifying possibilities that failed to fade; especially not when it inched up her side and stood upon chest to stare her in the eye. Be it the weight of the lizard, or fear that suppressed her voice; Lucy could only gawk helplessly as forked tongue flicked across her lips.  Despite the expected urge to hurl at the mere thought of a lizard in contact with her lips as though it was a kiss, her first kiss was not with a lizard!!! She refused to accept that as a fact! So Lucy attempted to grip the lizard and fling it as far away from her as she could, but once more, the emphasis remained on attempted. Her feeble attempt brought her no luck as the creature grew, not only in size, but also in weight. Scaly arms doubled in size, and doubled once more, a continuous growth as she stared in utter disbelief -- breath lost to both its rapidly increasing weight and shock.  Lizards. Do. Not. Grow. To. Such. Sizes. Especially not when its length extended beyond her height. But the true shocker came as scales fell off its form; each and every piece of the layer bursting into tiny flames that neither burned or hurt her in anyway, instead coming to envelope and surround her with what she deemed as a familiar warmth. Distracted and confused, she glanced at the fire dancing around her and once more, attempted to make sense of the situation -- but this day was only the beginning of her future with little sense, logic, and choices. Lucy Heartfilia has taken the step into the unknown, jumping out of the frying pan -- straight into the fire. For as she looked up from the embers that night, it was no lizard she came face to face with,                                                                but a man. This time, she promptly dealt him a solid right hook.

[voidcrow]

From Chaos Comes Order - Part 1

Zilnakhan. One week before the Vindicaar's embarkment.

Past the crack in the wall, Shaaghun could see a landscape of ash and emerald embers under a sky filled with fel ribbons and the scorched husks of other, nearby worlds. Argus itself was once just barely visible in this world's sky—a star that burned green in hellish heavens—but it has been gone for a while.

So has Laciel Voidcrow. She'd sent the trio to find this world and scout this place out while she was on some sort of trip, which they managed to do unseen. Vaadeus knew Zilnakhan's geography well, and had led the other two to this place—a large building of rather exotic construction. Its halls were quiet. Though the decor could once have been described as ostentatious, it was clear this domicile had been abandoned and left to decay for many centuries.

Shaaghun stepped back from the crack and looked over the rest of the wall. A faded mural spread over it, depicting magnificent pagodas rising over the canopy of a forest whose trees blossomed with what looked like red lotuses. Near the bottom, humanoid warriors were shown wearing splint armor with pronged helms and carrying weapons with curved blades. Similar-looking humanoids could also be seen who were clad in robes. These were depicted conjuring small whirlwinds in an apparent act of magic. These old works of art had been Shaaghun's surroundings for some time.

But today, the wait was to end. Vaadeus had been contacted via telepathy. And now the felguard heard the eredar’s voice behind him: "Rekh... Vuld... Goth... Xul. Correct. Now, complete the circuit with a straight line connecting the Vuld to the Sar."

Shaaghun turned around. Vaadeus—a severed, floating demon head—was instructing the imp Rupmat as the latter etched an arrangement of Eredun runes in the shape of a half-circle on a blank section of wall. "I ‘aven't seen a portal array like this before," the imp noted, "Where the 'ell are we summoning the Mistress from?"

"I know not," Vaadeus replied with just a hint of annoyance in his tone, "Voidcrow would only say she has been on some sort of vacation. I have had to relay the directions from her." The eredar paused, looking away. Then he turned to the felguard. "Shaaghun, bring the staff here. The Mistress has orders for you, now, as well."

"Great," sighed Shaaghun. He bent down to pick up the aforementioned staff—one of bone, carved at its head in the shape of a skeletal hand which gripped a round and glowing red orb. A number of dangling little knick-knacks decorated the shaft. Great power was now in the felguard's hands, for this was crafted from the distal phalange of a mighty and colossal demon. This was Archimonde's Finger.

"She would have you merely hold it with its head pointed at the circle," continued Vaadeus, "You alone are strong enough to keep it stable while I incant."

Shaaghun took the staff in both hands, pointing it toward the runes. He couldn't help -but- do it, even though he was largely apathetic to all this... which is how he knew Laciel truly was giving the order by proxy. His pact of service did not allow him to resist her will.

Vaadeus began to chant quietly in his native demonic tongue, and the space within the rune half-circle on the wall seemed to begin swirling. Green light issued from both the staff and the array and the wall ripped open as an emerald vortex. Shaaghun struggled to keep the now-trembling Finger still in his grip for a moment, but it settled down when—clad in crimson robes with gold trimming—Laciel Voidcrow walked in through the portal.

Rupmat grinned. "Oi! Ya made it, Mistress!"

The blood elf smiled as the portal closed behind her. "Good. Very good~. I was a little afraid my input on the other side wouldn't work. First things first: Did any of you see Hathnuz while you were scouting things out here?"

The imp shook his little horned head. "Not a trace of 'im."

"Well, never mind him for now. I noticed Argus has just become Azeroth's next-door neighbor, so..." Laciel paused to take a nervous deep breath. "It's time."

"At long last," Vaadeus said with a smirk. "Magmugen will taste my wrath."

"And his demon forces will serve me, or they'll die screaming my name." Laciel glanced around at the ruins. "Um... You're sure we're in the Twisting Nether? This building we're in doesn't look like demonic construction."

"No." Vaadeus, too, took a look around. "It predates the Legion's coming to this world."

"Does it, now?"

"This is the imperial palace of the Kaze-Jin—the original inhabitants of this planet. I personally stormed these halls millennia ago. We are indeed in Zilnakhan."

"Huh. Neat. So, then, what's the haps on this planet right now?"

Shaaghun walked up, and spoke while handing her Archimonde's Finger. "Magmugen's looking to vacate this rock to go help Argus now that it's under attack by mortals. He's loading the Dark Lance with all his minions at the moment."

The warlock tilted her head. "And the Dark Lance is...?"

"A dimensional ship," elaborated Vaadeus. "You have seen many of them; the Dark Lance was once my own."

A devious smile came to Laciel's face as she looked back to Vaadeus. "So you know all of its subtleties inside and out~."

"Indeed. One such 'subtlety'—if you can call it that—is a barrier that can be conjured around the whole ship. My accursed usurper is likely to activate it as soon as his forces are all on board, whence the vessel shall be impregnable."

"We're so damn short on time, it's almost funny," added Shaaghun.

"Well said." Laciel put a fingertip to her lips in thought. "Still, we need to be sneaky about getting ourselves inside. If he sees us coming, he'll throw that barrier up, and then we'd never get him in arm's reach. Hmm..." She silently pondered for a bit. "Well, it wouldn't be that much work to disguise myself with an illusion." She lit up with glee. "Yeah, that's perfect! We just have to hide you, Vaadeus, and you can fit in pretty small places these days."

"I've got a sack somewhere 'ere!" said an approximately-as-gleeful Rupmat, prompting an annoyed huff from the eredar head.

"Okay, so..." Laciel's expression softened. "This barrier the Dark Lance has. You seem pretty certain it's impenetrable."

Vaadeus nodded. "To my knowledge, it can withstand anything short of a closing portal."

Laciel took another moment to think, plan, predict, calculate. And then she started grinning. "Who wants to help me etch some portal arrays?"