#and the generational divides are more clear cut. ergo its success

[elffees]

im watching a Saints Row (2022) lets play. going into it i was a little nervous because of how controversial it seems to be amongst fans, but honestly? its not bad so far! i like the main group and the concept of them leaving already established gangs to create their own is interesting. the world looks PHENOMENAL like everything is so decorated and detailed, their apartment is gorgeous just... WOW

honestly, i think if they had just advertised this as the start of its own series, and not a Saints Row reboot, a lot more people wouldve shown this game a lot more love.

[galfridus1]

Thank you @amxlm for entering the prize draw I ran recently. Here is a fic featuring Zeldris as the leader of the Ten Commandments. Thanks for requesting this - it was a blast to write. I really hope you like it.

With thanks to @okamideimos for his headcanon about the Commandment of Selflessness which I have used here.

Trigger warning for canon typical violence.

Nine pairs of black eyes. Zeldris looked over the group, examining each of his new charges in turn. Every single one of the team had something different they wanted to say, and he could tell what it was from the way they were looking at him. He felt his impatience rise in his breast. Because of his own brother’s perfidy, he now had to manage these gits.

Actually, on reflection some of the hostility he saw he could cope with. Derieri was glaring at him, hands on hips and her mouth twisted to a snarl, but that was to be expected. She had just lost her sister at the hands of an archangel and had been saved from madness by the traitor himself, not to mention that slut of a goddess his brother had run off with. That humiliation had to sting. And Monspeet’s studied nonchalance as he lounged at her side was most likely in character. Zeldris searched his memory of the Commandment of Reticence and wondered if Monspeet had once smiled since taking his decree.

He sighed to himself. If this were a proper organisation with a proper resources department - like the one he had learned that the goddess clan had, with shiny offices and appropriate policies for things like performance evaluation, parental leave and bereavement - the pair would be having a few days off. But no. His father had zero understanding of effective people management and had flat out vetoed his son’s idea to bring some systematicity to the process.

“This is the elite army of the demon clan,” the king had boomed at Zeldris, “not a damned nursery. Get on with your job and turn them into warriors.”

But it was a damned nursery. The rest of the ‘warriors’ standing before him on the gratifyingly neat training grounds were behaving just like little children. Melascyla was pretending to ignore him, twirling her long pink hair around a thin finger as she looked at Estarossa who was rolling his eyes and flashing his brother some sort of rude sign with his hands. Fraudrin was practically bouncing up and down with eagerness, a slack grin on his sort of a face, and Galand was scratching under his armpits which he does not even have, Zeldris thought with irritation. Gloxinia and Drole were standing off to the side, both with arms folded over their chests but he could sense the nervousness they both felt. Only Greyroad was behaving professionally. She was floating in the air sedately and was clearly paying attention.

“Thank you for coming,” Zeldris proclaimed, lowering his voice to give himself an air of authority. The ‘warriors’ shifted a little at the address but their response was nowhere near satisfactory. Indeed, Zeldris noted with some disgust that Estarossa was picking his nose.

“I am delighted to take on the leadership of this group,” Zeldris forced himself to continue, hands clenched at his sides to stop himself from punching his brother in his self-satisfied face. “Between us, we have the best skills in the demon realm. Greyroad, Gloxinia, Drole, welcome. You are a huge asset to the Ten Commandments and I am looking forward to seeing you in action. But to beat the goddess clan, we have a lot of work to do, and that starts now. Divide up into pairs and duel. You may use any of the powers at your disposal. The winner from each pair will take on another successful opponent, until an overall victor emerges. The champion will receive a surprise reward.”

At the mention of a reward, the group visibly brightened. “Alright!” Galand yelled as he stalked towards Melascyla. “Shall we, my dear?” he asked, his voice echoing over the fields. Melascyla nodded her assent, and the two immediately flew at one another, Melascyla morphing to an enormous, hissing snake as Galand gave a shout and raised his spear in the air.

Zeldris watched with satisfaction as, one by one, the Commandments followed his orders. He was just looking around to see who was left, when Fraudrin sidled up to him, eyes narrowed and teeth showing where his chest ought to be. “Can I have a word?” the former general asked coldly.

“What is it now?” Zeldris snapped. He was tired of this demon. Fraudrin was by far the weakest of the team. He had been a sub-standard general even before his promotion, and Zeldris had serious misgivings about his current employment. But, of course, his objections had been overruled. There were no others suitable soldiers to appoint, so Fraudrin had been chosen by default.

Fraudrin seemed to quake a little under his leader’s gaze. “It’s about my decree,” he eventually managed to say, his words only just audible over the sound of metal clanging on metal and the fierce rush of the wind, which was being whipped to a frenzy by the onslaught of magical attacks. The air burned with it, the smell of smoke and ash floating on the breeze. “The king made me one of the Ten Commandments. Ergo, I should have a Commandment. I know you have The Commandment of Selflessness in your possession. When am I…”

Zeldris’s laugh cut over this speech, which had all the hallmarks of being pre-prepared. Since when did Fraudrin ever use the word ‘ergo’? He stepped towards the former general, pressing into the demon’s personal space, and despite being the smaller of the two, Zeldris could see the other quiver a bit. “That decree belonged to the greatest mage in the whole of Britannia,” he said sharply, his words cutting through the cacophony of noise. “It is not for the likes of you. We both know that you are only now in this army because of a serious shortage of alternatives. Besides, you are hardly capable of wielding power of this magnitude. It would destroy you…”

“That’s bull,” hissed Fraudrin, and he turned to look very deliberately at Estarossa. “I know he had no power at all before he took his decree. At least I have something. I have my own power, that is mine, that I worked for. So don’t tell me I couldn’t handle it. You know I could.”

Zeldris watched as Fraudrin shook, his emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “Alright,” Zeldris said, conceding the point. “That Estarossa is useless cannot be denied. Very well. I will tell you what I will do. I will offer you a deal. The others are all engaged in battle, so the two of us are left to duel. If you can stand against me for ten minutes then I will actively consider your request.”

Zeldris smirked as Fraudrin visibly swallowed. He was pleased with himself. This solution was neat and meritocratic. “If you end up on the floor though it is all over,” explained Zeldris as his opponent looked at him with uneasy eyes. The prince allowed his hand to stray to the hilt of his sword, excitement running through him as he grasped at the metal. “I will even do you a favour. You may use whatever powers are at your disposal, but I will refrain from calling on my own magic. I do not need to so in order to subdue you, so all you will have to face is my sword.”

Fraudrin moved more quickly than his leader would have expected. Zeldris’s weapon was out of its sheath faster than lightning, deflecting the blasts of Hellblaze which his combatant hurled in his direction. It was almost too easy. He stood still, moving his arm in time with the missiles which rained down on him, not even breaking a sweat as they flew back at his opponent. Fraudrin cursed loudly as he crashed to first one side then the other in order to escape the rebounds of his own attacks. The ground shook as he moved, but the huge demon somehow just about managed to stay on his feet.

Zeldris smiled. “Three minutes left,” he called cheerfully.

“Full Size,” snarled Fraudrin, the frustration he felt clear in his tone. Zeldris watched, amused, as the former general grew to enormous proportions. As if height and girth were an advantage against his own agility. Fraudrin lunged, fist poise to strike. Zeldris waited until the very last second, then sped behind Fraudrin, slashing at him repeatedly with his blade. It was like a knife running through butter; in just a few moments he had carved Fraudrin up into several pieces, all of which thudded like stones to the floor.

Zeldris landed lightly on his feet. “My win, I think,” he intoned, doing his best to keep the triumph out of his voice. He watched as Fraudrin stitched himself back together, limbs reattaching and skin smoothing over to leave no sign of injury. “But you did comparatively well,” he said more kindly as the now-restored Fraudrin audibly ground his teeth. “I was wrong. You may not be as powerful as Monspeet or Derieri, but you do have a place here.”

“Then give me the decree!” snapped Fraudrin.

Zeldris cocked his head to one side and, rather deliberately, shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, one day,” he said.

He was not about to tell Fraudrin he did not have the decree, that the Commandment of Selflessness had vanished with its owner. It would be somewhere up in Britannia, Zeldris was sure, and one day he would locate it. When he himself held all the decrees, he would be able to bring peace to the demon clan, to rule with Gelda by his side. But there was no rush, he reflected as Fraudrin skulked off. The princess was safe in her seal, protected from the ravages of war. There was time to train, to grow, and to learn to handle the power he knew he would some day have to make his own in order to save her.