#and then to innkeepers and then. gravestone again.

[quietwingsinthesky]

choosing the believe that the seagull is buttons come to bring izzy back from the dead because what the fuck was that

[opheliajupiter99]

Random OUAW Thought: Baron/Agwe Edition

//Again, I find myself coming back to the pondering of what the infamous 'Are You Ready?' scene would play out with Kremy. I mean, his powers and the Baron himself's powers are deeply rooted in both the movie and Louisiana legends and such in general, so as someone with Cajun roots, I suppose it's natural my mind keeps going back to the subject. Dr. Falicier is one of the best Disney villains also so that helps lol.

//While the scene itself would depend on where they were, like in the movie they had those masks bursting forth from faces carved into the nearby gravestones cause they were in a graveyard, so there's probably a near infinite ways in which the chaos could unfold, but I do know one thing for sure; if the time ever came for Kremy to be taken, it wouldn't happen subtly.

//As funny as it'd be for Kremy to just be sucked up under his blanket and vanish into thin air like that one kill in the Grudge, the Baron is -way- too much of a showman for that. He'll be taken in a grand spectacle, as I imagine all of the victims of the Baron are.

//Thinking about that also made me think of Agwe itself, clearly being either the, or one of, the primary domains of the Baron. With that in mind, I wonder how often on a yearly basis that infamous ominous jazz starts playing. Do kids hear the jazz in the middle of the night and excitedly wake up their sibling like they just heard Santa Claus on the roof, racing out to try and catch a glimpse of the Baron.

//Has the ominous jazz ever started in a tavern, and the occupants are super used to it? Like if one of the patrons was the one to not pay his debts and was the target, would innkeeper and other patrons try to stop him from leaving so the Baron could easily take him? Is the Baron so much of a showman that when notices other people watching he'll go MORE insane with the visuals, just to put on a show?

[cresentcube]

currently obsessing over the thought of nine forgetting just when he is. it’s VERY rare that he slips up in front of other people, but in the privacy of his own mind it happens when he’s not paying attention. Just upon waking up after camping out in the sands of Gallipolis he finds himself wondering how Voluptula’s doing, or when trekking through the Zwaardsrust ruins he can’t help but shiver, paranoid that one of these hidden staircases surrounded by foul purple ooze will lead into a dungeon filled with his people, even though there aren’t any other Celestrians to enslave. Sometimes he’ll file away an interesting fact or rumour to gossip about with Erin later, before remembering that she passed on peacefully centuries ago.

I'm currently losing my mind over how galaxy brained you are. That's PURE GENIUS. I'm screaming.

Nine has lived for so long that memories and places start to intermingle, however hard he tries to stay grounded- He fumbles over the map because surely there was a city around here? Not realizing that the last monarch's rule was literally two centuries ago. He mixes up locale names so often in his head that it loops around from being a weird occasion to "Nine has his head in the clouds again, don't mind it too much" moment that everyone doesn't pay much attention to.

Nine is not sure. Was the last time he visited Voluptula a decade or a century ago? Is this land ruled by a queen? No? There's a prince? Huh! Oh, while we're here, maybe the plague might resurface, he might have to check the seal while he visit- no, wait, this isn't coffinwell. Sometimes he reaches out to make a remark to Stella, but the only thing that meets his eye is a confused Veronica. He takes note whenever he hears news from a trader but it takes a bit too long to remember that the kind innkeeper's name on the gravestone had eroded off the last time he visited. In some occasions, he wakes up 6am sharp with a list of training regimens for the day in his head and only remembers that he's the only one left after he nearly panics over losing his celestrian uniform in his sleep. Sometimes he wakes up with pride in his chest, because he has a protectorate and a fully fledged guardian, and remembers that now all of the world is his protectorate and he had failed cobblestone in his name.

The earth wanes and erodes but the stars in the sky stays ever the same, and at this point only thing Nine can be sure of is his present. His purpose. The protection of the luminary. Maybe that's why he's so desperate to keep Eleven safe- because the prescence of a luminary is only thing that's solid enough for Nine to grasp on. His past is a primordial soup of travels and protection that he cannot place a finger on anymore. So he picks out an handful of important chunks that he HAS to remember- his name is Nine, his role is to protect- and seals the pot lid.

...Everyone just thinks that he has a slight memory problem. Nine is not going to refute that.

[mtygalvatron]

The Girl and the Lost City

The city around him was stagnant, covered in a layer of snow. Still, silent, dead. It had been like that for what has felt like centuries since the plague came and took his friends, his family. It took them all one by one until he was the only one left and only thanks to his knowledge of the necromantic arts that he learned in his vain attempt to stop the plague has he alone survived. He looked at the skeletal hand that he possessed. Was this really surviving?

           He made a fist with that hand and directed his will into it. In a flash of light, the dead snow-covered city transformed. The cobblestone streets were no longer in disrepair, the ruined crumbled buildings were brought back to their former glory and the sun shined with a bright light. The people came back as well, merchants selling their goods in carts, the brave knights clad in shining armor mounted on their equally well-armored horses traveled down the roads making a show of power.

Most importantly, she was there. With her amber skin and hair as gold as honey. At her waist, a child was clinging to her watching the knights and horses ride by with bright eyes and hope of becoming a knight himself one day instead of becoming a mage like his father before him. It would have been fine, as long as he was still alive that would have been fine for him. He tried to run his dead hand through the child’s hair, but it was only met with air. He knew better that none of this was real, that it was an illusion. Yet time and time again, for a moment, he would forget that and try to cling on to something tangible.

Moments later, the illusion would disappear, the world returned to its cold dead state. Leaving the undead man on his knees alone once again in his lonely frozen hell. He would play out these illusions every day trying to keep this city’s memory alive, his family’s memory alive in the only ways he knows how.

Then something shifted in the corner of the man’s eye. Something was here? How? Nothing should have gotten through the walls and wards placed to keep the plague away from the outside world. Questions were flooding his mind, but the foremost one was who or what that was, and he intended to find out. He got back on his feet with a vigor not seen since his living days and dashed where he saw movement. The small figure moved away with great haste and speed, darting into a nearby alleyway but the man gave chase. He needed to know, he hadn't spoken to anyone in ages, he has been cut off from the outside world for so long.

He turned into the alleyway, but there was no sign of the figure. Had he imagined the whole thing? Was his sanity starting to leave him after so long? Before he could ponder any further, he felt something tear into his robes and go in between his ribs on his right. For most mortal men, this would have been a painful experience full of screaming and blood. Being undead had its perks, however, and the man felt nothing but the mild annoyance of his clothes being torn as there was no flesh to cut through. He turned his head towards his would-be assailant and much to his shock discovered it was a small child, a girl, dressed in dirty, tattered rags with eyes full of fear, trembling at the sight of the animated skeleton before them.

He pulled the blade out from what was left of his body and handed it back to the child. “I believe this is yours.” He was shocked by the sound of his own voice and how it sounded so aged, so tired. He never fully realized how the weight of ages had affected him. The child took the knife back.

“Sorry,” the child said while the knife trembled in her hands.

"My name is Magnus. Do you have a name?" He decided to go slow, he was sure it wasn't every day she met skeletons that could talk.

“It’s Merlene.” She replied.

"I know, I'm scary. I wake up every day and scare myself when I look into the mirror,” he said making the best look of shock a skull can do. Laughter ensued from the two. It had been so long since Magnus laughed about anything, there was a feeling of warmth in his core that filled him.

“But why are you here? And where are your parents?” He asked.

“They told me to run away and keep running to a village where the sun sets and find the innkeeper there. But I came here because I heard about the stories of the brave knights and wizards here that could stop any evil,” she said.

“So, you came here for help? Well, I'm sorry, but this city has been gone for a long time now. No one should have even been able to get through the barrier, although I guess there are exceptions to that,” he said as he gestured towards Merlene. “How did you get in here anyway?”

“Oh, there was a hole in the wall at the edge of town, I just squeezed myself through that,” she said as she pointed towards the direction of the walls.

As absurd as it sounded, it made sense. The way the barrier was set up was that it would supplement the walls that were already built beforehand so that the mages didn't have to exert anymore of their power than they had to. The barrier was supposed to be taken down once the plague was cured, but a cure didn’t come fast enough, and the city withered and died as a result. With Magnus as the only mage left, he wasn’t powerful enough to take it down himself. And he never had the strength to tear down a wall on his own, or least that’s what he told himself.

"But you can help, right? You were a knight or a wizard, right?" Merlene asked, filled with hope.

“I… don’t think I can go out there,” Magnus said. “If your initial reaction is any indication, I fear I would not last too long among the people out there, they would see a monster and destroy me.”

“Huh, well we could get you a mask, or a helmet!” She said. “Then they can’t see your face.” Merlene darted out of the alleyway and towards where the old blacksmith was. Magnus barely had time to leave the alley before a helmet was unceremoniously thrust into his arms.  

“See, Magnus, now no one is going to know!”

“I’m supposed to wear a helmet at all times?”

“We can worry about that when it comes up, c’mon!” Merlene grabs his hand and begins pulling him towards the exit.

Magnus had to stop the child. “Just give me one moment, there’s something I need to do first before I leave,” he said as he removed his hand from Merlene’s grip and walked further into the town and towards the castle. Some supplies needed to be gathered on this trip and Magnus was not one to go on journeys unprepared. An old map of the world from what used to be the cartographer's house, a leather water pouch, and a sack to hold these items in. The only perk about living in this empty city was that he didn't need to ask permission to take anything. In his own house, Magnus took a single sword still sheathed in a fine leather sheath. With those items gathered, Magnus took what could be thought of as a deep breath and headed towards the cemetery on the hill.

Magnus kneeled in front of two gravestones and softly spoke to them. “I just wanted to say that I’m taking a trip. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for, but I promise I’ll return to you two. One way or another.” He picked up a sheathed sword and unsheathed it, shining the muted light of this stagnant city. “Jeralt, this was going to be yours someday, when you were older, but it seems I may need use of it before the journey is through. I hope you can forgive me, son.” He got up, sheathed his sword and walked. Taking one look back before he carried on.

The wall indeed had a crack in it and time had seen to it that it would be wide enough that a body could squeeze through it with enough effort. The first thing Magnus noticed was how bright everything was, without the filter of the barrier the sun shined through brighter than he thought was possible. The wind flowed and the trees, the trees were green and flowing with life. The feeling and sounds of life surrounded the two and Magnus had to stop for a moment to soak it all in.

“Are you okay?” Merlene asked with a look of concern as Magnus stood silent.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just getting my bearings. It's just been so long since I've left the city." Magnus looked around. "There used to be a path nearby, but it looks like it's been overgrown." He pulled out a dusty map, yellowed with age. “The only village in this area where the sun sets is here," he says pointing at a small village by the ocean. “Is this the place your parents were talking about?”

"Yep, that's it. Wow, that's an old map, Magnus. You think it’s still up to date?”

"Up to date enough to suit our needs, let's get going before darkness falls," Magnus said as he walked off west towards their destination. Merlene trailing behind.

Traveling the countryside brought an invisible smile to Magnus’ face. He remembered the times he walked about with his wife outside of the city. Katya loved nature and the walks gave the precious time he needed away from the hustle and bustle of the castle, the nobles’ constant mandates and the general noisiness of life itself. It was amazing to Magnus that these were the little things that he missed, the sounds and sights of a world that was alive were beauty compared to the cold stagnant world that he was lost to for so long. As the duo passed a lake Magnus remarks "I remember this place, it's where I proposed to my wife. The water was so clear that day. Oh, how I missed all of this.”

The sun began to get low so the two decided to make camp for the night. Around the warm flickering fire, Magnus watched through his helmet as Merlene ate a loaf of bread. Merlene must have noticed because she asked, “Did you want some?”

"Oh no thank you, I don't have the stomach for it," Magnus replied laughing to himself slightly.

“Oh, because of the whole skeleton thing, right?” Merlene said stuffing her face.

“Yes,” Magnus said, peeved that his joke fell flat on its face.

The duo enjoyed a comfortable silence through the night. Only the chirps of crickets, the occasional hoots of an owl and the crackling of the wood in the campfire filled the sound in the air.

“Hey, can I ask you a question,” Merlene asked breaking the silence. “How come you’re a skeleton, what happened?”

"That's because… I got sick one day. A plague came around and a lot of people got sick back then, in fact, the whole city caught it eventually. My colleagues and I tried to find a way to cure it, but then we all got sick too. I knew it was a matter of time before the plague took me and our only chance of curing it, so I turned to my knowledge of the magical arts to keep myself alive. As you can see now,” Magnus said as he gestured towards himself, “that solution is not without its costs.”

“But if you were in a group, what happened to them why couldn’t you use your. “Merlene was cut short by the sound of a stick snapping in the darkness surrounding them. “Did you hear that?”

Magnus was already on his feet and kicking dust into the fire to put it out. Maybe it was a predator, or perhaps it was this ‘evil’ that Merlene spoke of back in the city. Either way, his sword was out and ready. “Stay here child, I’ll be right back,” he said as he walked away from the makeshift camp and toward the noise in the distance.

It wasn’t long until Magnus could make out the light of a torch and two voices in the dark of the woods.

“You sure the girl ran off this way?”

“Of course, I’m sure you fool, where else could she have gone?”

“What about that weird walled city over yonder?”

“You’re kidding, that place is cursed. No one can get in there, you’d have to be insane to try. Now quit your whining and find her so we can get paid.”

It wasn't long until the two ragged-looking men had caught notice of Magnus in his helmet with his sword out.

"And who might you be, eh? Little late to go out for a walk isn't it?" The man said, the wrinkles in his face betraying an older, possibly more experienced man. His hand was on the hilt of his sword around his waist.

“Why are you two searching for a girl in this neck of the woods?” Magnus replied under his helmet.

“That ain’t none of your business lad, just move along before you get hurt,” the younger fellow said while visibly shaken, either by excitement or fear. Sword already in hand.

“Well I plan to make it my business,” Magnus said as he readied his sword with both his bony hands.

The younger one rushed forward with great haste and Magnus met the lad's fury with his steel. The sound of metal clashing against each other reverberated throughout the forest. Magnus went in for a strike, but the young one dodged swiftly and left Magnus open for a strike as a sword plunged into his chest and ran through the other side. Magnus was cursing to himself that he’d let himself become lax in his sword training.

At first, the man’s face had a sense of satisfaction at such an impact, but that look slowly twisted into one of horror as Magnus remained standing, unfazed at the situation. The young man didn't even notice that he let of go his sword, leaving it embedded in Magnus' torso.

“You’ve ruined my clothes,” Magnus said while pulling the sword out dropping it to the ground below, feeling more disappointed over the loss of his shirt than feeling anything about the attack on his life. The young man was already fleeing at that point, but there was still the older man to contend with who had brandished a very ornate looking dagger.

“I know how to deal with freaks like you,” the older man said as he plunged the dagger towards Magnus, who managed to dodge out the way, but not quickly enough to avoid the blade nicking his arm. At that moment, a sensation Magnus thought he had lost had come rushing back to him so suddenly and surely that made him tumble to the ground. What is this feeling? Pain! How? Magnus hadn’t even realized he’d been screaming while his foe casually walked over ready to give the killing blow.

“Back to the hells for you, freak,” the man said before he plummeted the dagger towards Magnus.

A scream was let out as Merlene's knife sank between the ribs of the man. At that moment Magnus concentrated his will into his fist and launched his hand in the man’s general direction and with it enough force to send him flying into a nearby tree. Knocking him unconscious and perhaps breaking some bones in the process.

Magnus stumbled to his feet. “I thought I told you to stay at the camp.”

“Pretty sure you would be dead right now if I did stay. You’re welcome,” Merlene retorted.

“I would have been fine, “Magnus said while pulling a sword out of his chest. “I appreciate the effort, however.” The sword clanged on a small rock as it fell.

“Why were they after you?” Magnus was still reeling from the attack, feeling woozy What did he hit me with? He walked over to the dagger that was now on the ground. Examining it, the blade looked to be of bright silver and the golden handle had the crest of a red dragon on it.  The silver blade had to mean that there was an enchantment placed on it as only the metal silver could hold magical properties that were given by enchanters. Only magic could disrupt the magical forces that kept Magnus alive. “Why did he have an enchanted blade? With the way he dressed he couldn’t have had the money to afford daggers such as this one. And what is this symbol here with the dragon?” Magnus said showing the blade to Merlene.

Merlene looked at the blade for a moment and with a flash of inspiration in her eyes she shouted, “Oh that’s the crest of my family, the Dragonscales.”

Magnus never heard of the Dragonscales in his years of studies, but he figured that due to his time in isolation from the rest of the world new, powerful families have arisen in the absence of the old kingdom and have filled the vacuum of power that was left behind. “You have a crest? That’s pressed onto weapons?”

“Yeah, doesn’t your family have one?”

“No! Only royal families have crests like this. What did your father do for a living?”

“Oh, he was the king.”

“No wonder why you’re being chased,” Magnus said laughing a bit to himself. “You’re a princess. Everyone in the land is out looking for you. You’re worth a lot of money and favor to everyone. I wish you had told me sooner.”

"Well, you never asked," Merlene replied plainly.

"No, no I guess I never did, "Magnus said, "but we should start getting a move on to that town. Nowhere is going to be safe for long with your status." Magnus pocketed the knife in his sack and the two-headed off.

The two traveled for miles on end to the town where the sun had set, there was no time for pause or rest for Magnus, who didn’t need to sleep or eat anyway. When Merlene needed to rest, however, Magnus offered to carry her on his back for at least a little while. They had to stick to the lesser-known paths and off the main trail to avoid anyone who may have known the identity of the princess.

In what felt like no time at all for Magnus, but an eternity for Merlene, they finally arrived at a town called Sunset.

"This has to be the place; the name is too on the nose not to be," Magnus said looking at the wooden sign in front of him along with the map in his hand; matching the landmarks to the old map with the ones he could see around town. A waterwheel, the oddly shaped rock. The entire ocean that was by the coast was a large indicator as well. “What were you supposed to do once you got here, Merlene?”

Before Merlene could get a word out of her mouth. A crowd had gathered around the two. Someone started speaking "You're the princess, yes, and this is your bodyguard? We can help you, just follow us.” The two weren’t given much of a choice as the crowd directed their movements toward an old lighthouse near the outskirts of town.

The two were placed in a room within the lighthouse. In one of the chairs sat an elderly woman with greyish-red hair. “I’m Rose, and you must be Merlene,” she said looking at her, paying no attention to Magnus, “Come have a seat, there is much to discuss.”  

The two took a seat as instructed and listened to Rose. “It is a very unfortunate thing that has happened to your family, Merlene with how your uncle rose to power and has taken your father’s place as king. Of course, you still have your supporters as you are the rightful heir to the throne but currently, we feel that the time for you to reclaim your rightful place is not right.”

“What are you saying then?” Merlene finally spoke.

“Well, the council feels that it would be better for everyone that you sit and bide your time and hide away from the mainland until you're ready to rule," Rose replied.

“I don’t get it, I thought you people would help me save Mom and Dad," Merlene said as tears welled up in her eyes. She tried her best not to let her face betray her emotions but in the end, her face contorted, and the tears fell from her eyes.

“I thought we were here to help liberate this child's land from tyranny and corruption," Magnus said. "Why are we running away to gods know where to ‘bide our time'? There are contingencies for these kinds of situations, a reserve army, a cabal of secret guardians. What it sounds like is that you want to send her away where she won't be in the way."  

“Now that’s not what’s happening at all… who are you again?” Rose said.

“I am Magnus of the Old Kingdom and I am not letting you send her away so that you may grow fat from her situation.” There was a fire in his voice, one that he hasn’t felt in many lifetimes. “Merlene get up, we’re leaving. We’ll reclaim your throne in our own way.”

"We can't let you just leave you know. There's too much at stake to lose because you don't want to fall in line with the new order.” As Rose said this a group of armed men came barreling into the room. Swords drawn and ready for action.

But Magnus was ready too. "Merlene, close your eyes." Ready or not, Magnus released a flash of light from his hands it was as if the sun had been birthed in that very room. Magnus grabbed Merlene and made a bolt for the exit while the guards were blinded by the light.

Outside of town, far away from any other people. Magnus and Merlene sat in a clearing in the nearby forest.

"So, it seems your uncle has overthrown the rule of your family. It's little wonder why they were sending men after you. He wanted to be sure that no loose ends were running around and becoming a potential problem for him later." Magnus said mostly to himself. Merlene sat in shock at the current events.

“I’m not going to let them exile you, Merlene. No one should be put into isolation, away from the people they love.” Magnus said, speaking from his own experience. “We’re going to your kingdom, we’re going to find your parents and we’re going to bring your uncle to justice.”

“But how, Magnus? No one will help us.” Marlene spoke.

"There's nothing to fear. I have a plan, but we need to move we haste and for that, we're going to need to borrow horses.” Magnus said.

Out on the road, there were men on horseback moving at a pace that indicated that they were searching for something. Magnus and Merlene were hidden away in nearby bushes, listening in on their conversation.

“Gotta be careful with her bodyguard, they say he’s got magics.” One voice said.

“Ain’t no such thing as magics. Don’t let ‘em get in your head.” Another voice replied.

Magnus clinched his skeletal fist and walked out into plain view in front of the men. The two saw him immediately and called out to him. “Hey! Where’s the girl? Make this easy for us and maybe you’ll get to keep your life, eh?”

Magnus remained silent. Unmoving from the center of the road. The men got off their horses, swords in hand already and moved in on Magnus.

“Let’s see you keep up the silent treatment after this then.” The man slashed with his sword at Magnus but met with only air. The figure of Magnus soon disappeared into thin air as well. Before the two realized in a horse ran between them and into the surrounding forest. By the time they turned around the other horse, carrying two, was running off into the distance.

"You sure do know a lot of magic, Magnus," Merelene said, wind flowing through her hair, holding tight to Magnus as they rode on horseback.

“Well yes. I studied a lot of magic back in my time and my people were known for having the best mages and sorcerers in the land.” Magnus said, fondly remembering the years he spent pouring over old texts and ancient tomes and seeing the results of his research become manifest through new spells.

“Do you think you could teach me magic after all this is over?” Merelene asked.

Magnus thought over it for a moment. His son was never interested in magic despite how hard he pushed it on him. “Yes, I think I could teach you a few things. Help you avoid burning your eyebrows off and learning practical spells.” Magnus said, remembering the time he lost all his hair in a magical mishap.

The trip to The Dragonscale Kingdom was long but shortened due to the use of horses. Magnus wondered why he didn’t use them at the start. Magnus pulled back on the reins and brought the horse to a stop. They were still a good distance away from the entrance gates.

"You know, in my day this place was just a small village and a bit of farmland," Magnus said looking surveying over the land in his helmet.

“Yeah, my great grandfather fought a dragon, defeated it and sold the scales to make enough money to build a castle and name himself king," Marlene answered.

“Most people can’t just name themselves king, but who would argue with a man that fought a dragon and lived?” Magnus said. “Well enough stalling, time to get this plan in motion.”

“What is this plan?” Marelene asked.

"It's almost the same thing we did to get these horses, but on a larger scale," Magnus said, clenching both of his fists. He took what could have been considered a deep breath and outstretched his hands. Suddenly, numerous knights clad in shining armor on top of golden steads began to appear out of thin air and began to march down toward the castle with the sound of rhythmic thumping of hooves on the ground. "Hopefully that will keep them distracted enough for us to slip into the castle from the back," Magnus said giving the horse a light kick and riding off to the back entrance.

As predicted a group of soldiers came to meet the slowly approaching knights. Numerous archers began lining up and reading their arrows waiting to hear the command to fire. Magnus and Merlene were already slipping in through the back when the archers began to ineffectively loose arrows against the illusory knights. Unfazed by the arrows the knights continued onwards.

The city streets were empty, the townsfolk were likely held up in their houses looking to avoid the conflict. “Merelene do you know where the dungeons are? I expect that’s where we’ll find your parents.”

“I think it’s under the castle. I wasn’t allowed down there, so I don’t know that place so well.” Merelene said.

“That’s quite alright,” Magnus said, “I don’t expect a child to play much in the dungeons.”

The castle was nearly as empty as the city streets. High ceilings and banners hung on the castle walls. Most interestingly was the large skeletal dragon hanging high from the ceiling. The lack of life in the castle signified to Magnus that the recent coup has left the castle so short-staffed that they couldn't manage to form some sort of defense against people sneaking in. It was an advantage that Magnus didn’t mind exploiting. The two made their way down the stairs and found row upon row of prison cells filled with people.

"I know these guys, these are the castle workers," Merlene said.

“Looks like those who didn’t join in the rebellion were locked up here.” Said Magnus.

Requests and pleading for freedom began to fill the hallways. Magnus, with a simple use of magic, broke the locks on the cells. Soon the hallway was crowded with the bodies of prisoners; dirty and disheveled from their imprisonment. “Arm yourselves however you can.” Magnus said over the crowd. “the rebels shall be upon us soon I feel.” Many of the people began rushing up the stairs out of the dungeons.

Magnus stopped one of the former prisoners, “Have you seen the king and queen?” He asked.

“I heard that they were locked in the highest tower in the castle, sir.” The prisoner replied before running off with the rest.

A commotion could be heard upstairs, the clanging of metal against metal mingling with screaming and yells. The sound of combat was afoot as the rebel army had begun to pour back into the castle. Magnus turned to Merlene, “I need to get to the top of the castle to free your parents, but it sounds like the fighting has started outside, so I need you to stick close to me, ok?”

“Yeah, I got it, don't worry," Merlene said.

Magnus handed her the ornate blade he picked up from the brigand. “Just in case.” He said. Moving forward with sword in hand.

Stepping out of the dungeon the world was chaos, combatants swinging swords, clubs and improvised weapons. Some of the prisoners must have been soldiers as they were holding their own very well against the better-armored rebels. Magnus and Marlene weaved though the storm of blades toward the upper stairs only to be stopped by a large man in ornate armor covered in shining silver scales, carrying an oversized and cruel-looking morning star.

"That's my uncle," Merlene said, close behind Magnus.

"Yeah, that figures," Magnus responded.

“You don’t look like one of the rabble I had locked away, who are you?” The false king asked.

“I am Magnus, friend to the true king. And you are?” Magnus responded.

"You come to my castle asking who I am? Do you even know what you're doing here? I am Erik Dragonscale, king of this land that you have stumbled on." Erik's grip on his weapon grew tighter.

“I know exactly why I am here. To free this land of your grip.” Magnus said his free hand gripping into a fist.

“The commoners don’t even care about who’s in charge. Enough talk out of you.” Erik swung his spiked club down towards Magnus who quickly threw up an invisible barrier with his free hand. The force of the blow, however, was too much for Magnus and his skeletal arm shattered into splinters as he flew into a crowd in the center courtyard. There was no pain from the blow, but the attack left Magnus at a considerable disadvantage. At some point, the blow had knocked off Magnus’ helmet revealing his skull for all to see.

“Ah, I see you're not only a rabble-rouser but an abomination as well. How many souls have you stolen to achieve this pitiful form?" Erik said gesturing towards Magnus who was struggling to stand up with only one arm. Magnus had to rest upon his sword has he climbed to his knees. On is ascent he caught a glimpse of the dragon bones hanging above him.

By this point, the fighting had stopped. All eyes were on the king and the animated skeleton in the room. Merlene tried to run over to Magnus, but somehow gave her a look that told her to stay back. She used this opportunity instead to run up the flight upstairs leading to the towers above.

“I have not stolen a single soul, each one was given to me by my friends and comrades for a greater good. Each of those souls still live on through me.” Magnus said, mostly to himself as he focused his will into his remaining hand.

"Enough of your blabbering," Erik shouted. "No good can come from dabbling in those magics." He started pacing towards Magnus.

"Well, let me show you what good can come from it then," Magnus said and raised his arm into the air. A bellowing, glass shattering, roar could be heard from above that stopped Erik in his tracks. Looking up he saw the dragon, once a trophy, now animated and rushing toward him with incredible speed. Erik swung his morning star at the large mass of bones in front of him, but it was to no avail as the sheer force and weight of the dragon crushed him and sent dust and debris flying in all directions.

As the dust was still settling, Magnus, who now found himself against a wall, could hear Merlene shouting for him amongst the confusion. The court was covered in dragon bones and ash slowly descended from on high like snow to the ground. In the dust, Magnus could see two tall figures and one smaller figure in front of him. It reminded Magnus of his wife and child who were still waiting for him at his snow-covered home.

“Merlene, is that you? Did you find your parents?” Magnus asked.

"Yeah, Magnus, I did," Merlene said.

“Ah, that’s great. I’m happy for you.” Magnus said, struggling to rise to his feet. One of his legs seemed to have been bent in the wrong direction. “I think, I’m going to need to rest for a bit after this.”

It had been some time since Magnus made his journey and he was now back in his home of the lost city. The barrier was still covering the sky, but with great effort, the hole in the wall was widened so that people could come and go as they pleased. Mostly it was for Merlene to come and go as she pleased as the outside world tended to leave him alone. Merlene came to the snowy town every month for her magic lessons. And right on time as always, Merlene was waiting for him outside of his house.

“You ready for your next lesson?” Magnus asked.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," Merlene replied. Hair still growing in from the last lesson.

“Well then let’s get to work.” Said Magnus.

[blackjacketmuses]

hc; braig backstory

A slightly shortened version of Chapter 11 of my fic rewrite, in which I detail Braig’s backstory. It’s tragic as hell, and so very good.

The story starts on a world, a long time ago and a long way away. The world was called Airelann, and it was a quiet place. Full of magic and spirits and fae, heroes and legends, rolling emerald hills and lush forests, bustling towns and small rural villages. Magic was easy to find under rocks and in faerie rings, creatures lived in rivers and in caves and on the crossroads at night, and the people of the world were bright and caring and full of life.

In a little village by a forest is where the story takes place – a village of perhaps two hundred strong, if that, with a pasture for sheep and cattle, a few henhouses and a stable, a single church, a fountain in the square, and a single inn and tavern. This is the village where Braig Tallow was born.

His father a hunter and his mother a washerwoman, Braig lived a quiet and normal life – family was everything in the small village, a lesson passed down from parent to child for generations; blood and marriage-bond above all else. Everyone looked out for each other, but family came first. That’s what Braig was taught, just like everyone else. It was a simple fact of their lives, just like how to milk a cow, or how to avoid being tricked by a faerie.

Braig grew up with the rest of the children in the village, but the two most important to him were his neighbors, the twin daughters of the innkeep – Siobhan and Aisling Durnin. The two were like night and day to each other; Aisling gentle and sweet, kind and quiet, with a love for flowers, animals, and stories of romance,while Siobhan was rough-and-tumble, the knight to her sister’s princess, a firecracker who loved to cook and climb trees.

The three children were inseparable, playing from dawn to dusk every chance they could escape from chores and duties. The village all knew them well, knew their mischief, and it was a common talk at family firesides which of the two would Braig marry when they were of age – it was no if, to the village, but when. It was simply how things went.

In the end it was Aisling who he chose, the gentle girl marrying the bright-eyed hunter one soft spring morning, two happy youths only just approaching their second decade. Siobhan was happy, too – the trio took over the inn soon after, and in time no one could tell which was truly the wife to Braig’s husband, and to most it simply didn’t matter. They were family, the three of them, and far be it from anyone to claim it was more or less of one.

It wasn’t long after that a fourth joined the family, a squalling boy with dark hair and Braig’s brown eyes, a boy they named Jasper. He inherited much from his father – the same eyes and hair, the same hawkish nose and crooked smile, the same sense of mischief and adventure, and the same nose for getting into and out of trouble with a laugh and a grin and a sharp tongue.

The family was happy, and content with their lives. Aisling ran the inn with a gentle hand, cleaning and welcoming weary travelers, while Siobhan ran the kitchen and the bar, cooking hearty meals and making sure the whiskey and beer flowed free – though she made damn sure no one caused too much trouble on her watch. Braig kept a sharp eye on his girls and his son, travelling into the woods to hunt with the other men, coming home with sundries to sell at the town nearby and with stories to tell around the tables at the inn.

Jasper devoured the stories like you would a fresh sweet roll, sitting on the floor surrounded by the music and tales of his father and the other villagers. He was always sent to bed when the crowd got rowdy and the drinking songs got bawdy, but he still hovered at the top step to listen, entranced. He knew from a young age what he wanted to do and what he wanted to be – just like his father.

He would follow his father to the forest sometimes, Braig letting Jasper ride on their dog – a huge black hound named Ulster, loyal and perhaps with magic in him – and placing him safe in the crook of a tree while he hunted. Jasper would listen intently as Braig taught him what to look for, the signs of both fauna and fae, what to avoid and what to seek out, the tricks to keep yourself safe and when to run and when to stay very, very still.

Life was sweet as honey and calm as a warm summer afternoon for ten long years after Jasper’s birth, but as in all things, happiness never lasts forever, and the more content you are…the quicker Darkness is to take everything.

It was soon after Jasper’s tenth birthday, husband wife and son riding home from the city, Jasper wearing his gift proudly – a red bandanna snug around his neck to match his father’s. But they were never to make it home that night, for that was when the tides of Darkness that were slowly encroaching all the known worlds came to Airelann.

They struck without warning, hordes of living shadows with bright gold eyes, soundless and deadly. A tidal wave, a roiling tide bigger than the tallest oak and deadlier than any black hound or vengeful fae, and caught out in the middle of the road, the Tallows had nowhere to hide from it, no place to be that would protect them from the shadows.

Braig fought valiantly, tooth and nail and useless gun against the shadows that surrounded them, only to watch with fast-breaking heart as Aisling was killed before his eyes as she tried to protect their son – her still form slumping, her blood staining the ground as the shadows rolled over her and stole the red from her hair.

Only to watch as the shadows and Darkness took his son and took him, hands unable to grasp hold of one another as the blackness consumed them and threw them far across the universe, far from each other, far from the home that fell that night.

Braig woke on a world he did not know, the night sky full of stars blinking out, rain soaking the ground and soaking him to the bone, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care – all he could see was his wife pale and still on the ground, all he could see was his son’s terrified face, and now they were gone. They were gone, and he was alone. No amount of screaming and begging, no amount of raw, bleeding hands clawing at the dirt and no amount of howling to the sky would bring them back to him.

So knowing he could not bring them back, he set off to search. Wherever the road took him, wherever he had to go – he would walk into the Underworld itself, tear down the gates of Faerieland if he had to if it meant finding his son, his only family left. He was alive, he had to be, and no matter what it took, what Braig had to give up, he would find his boy and they would find their way home.

He wandered the worlds, as this was the time in which all worlds were connected, all roads passing through the multitude. He searched and searched, seeing many places and many people, but none of them his son.

He would come across children sometimes – sometimes they were alone, and others were in small groups, young children with hope in their bright young eyes and blades in the shape of keys clutched in their hands. He would ask for his son, and they would never know him, but they told him of their destiny.

They told him of Keyblades, of the hundreds of youths from fallen worlds, youths searching for adventure, clutching their weapons in their hands as they fought bravely to stem the tide of darkness and bring light back to the worlds. They told him of their fight and they told him with eyes shining with hope and courage and hearts full of light, and every time he left them he felt that much lighter himself. It was hard to despair when you were faced with that much light and hope and courage, even if the wielders were children, even if each little face he met could have been his son’s, but wasn’t.

Seven long years Braig spent wandering, seven years of naught but dead ends and worlds empty of the one person he sought. Seven years of watching children fight a war that should belong to adults, watching children prove braver and wiser and more hopeful than anything else, even as eyes grew too old for young faces and their numbers began to drop and dwindle.

Part of him wanted to help – part of him saw his son’s face in every boy and girl with those keys, part of him couldn’t bear the thought of more fathers and more mothers waking up in their homes never to see their children again, never knowing why. But part of him knew he was helpless, useless – he had no key of his own, he had no means to fight the Darkness, and he had no way to help. So he would keep searching for his little boy, and hope for the children’s sakes that the war ended soon.

The war did end, though, and the war ended brutally. It ended with children killing each other in a field of weapons turned to gravestones, the only marker that the youths had ever existed their left-behind keys, a field of shattered hopes and dying lights lying silent in the rain.

The war ended and it took the worlds all with it, dragging the universe into deepest darkness. And Braig almost fell along with all the countless others – but something in him, some buried magic burst forth and protected him, warped time and space and dragged him to safety across centuries.

Once again he woke in an unfamiliar world, this time a bright and warm place, a radiant garden full of friendly faces and kind strangers. He was taken in, welcomed by the ruler and by the citizens, and upon realizing that the paths he’d once walked between worlds were broken and vanished, he resigned himself to settle there, to make a new home in this place he hadn’t chosen.

In the decade that followed, though, it almost began to feel almost familiar despite everything. The people there – friends he’d made, the stalwart axeman and the temperamental lancer, the neurotic scientist and his quiet adopted son, the wise and friendly king, and so many others – were almost a family, and the garden was almost like a home. Even if he hadn’t chosen it, it had chosen him, and he was almost content.

But almost is not enough, and that broken and missing part of him still festered in quiet, and one day, he was met with an old man carrying one of those keys – they keys that, to Braig, meant light and hope and a chance to fix everything, and in the hand of an adult who could carry that weight  – and he knew before the old man spoke that he would agree to whatever was offered, if only he could have a key of his own. For having a key of his own, Braig thought, would be enough. Having a key of his own would be the way he could make it all right again, the way he could find his son and bring him home.

The man with the key turned out to be a devil in disguise, however, and by the time Braig realized it, he had already sold his found family and his found home down the river for a chance to take back the blood family he’d lost – a chance that was all sweet-sounding lies and clever manipulations – and now he had nothing. By the time Braig realized what he’d done, the shard of Xehanort’s heart had buried itself deep within him like a parasite, eating at him from the inside out and changing him irreparably.

He looked in the mirror now and saw a face he hardly recognized, the scars of his follies traced deep into his cheek and burned into his useless eye, the marks of his deal seared gold in his vision and tracing grey into his hair. He looked into the mirror and wondered if his son would know him now, if he saw him again. If his son would love him still, if he knew what he’d done.

But that was meaningless.

It was all meaningless. The only thing left in his life that had meaning was Xehanort’s plan. That was what he lived for, what he was forced to do. And he’d do it, because no matter what he’d thrown away, no matter how alone he was, no matter how thick his web of secrets…if in the end, when the dust settled, he had his key and he had his son, then the blood and the betrayal and this deal that left him ruined and no longer in control of himself…it was worth it.

It had to be worth it, he told himself over and over again. It had to be worth it.

Even if he had to face down so many more children with keys, children that shouldn’t be fighting, children with homes and families and parents waiting for them  – he’d do it. Even if he had to betray his found family over and over, knowing they’d all either die or become slaves to Xehanort’s heart because of what he’d done – he’d do it.

He’d do anything to get that key and to get what he wanted, because it was the only thing he had left.