#and they’re all running around back there like magical elves just creating enchantment with a gazillion unrelated instruments

[roofermadness]

ok but you really do not want the brass and winds at the front though

Hey can someone help me go back and time and ask who's fucking bright idea was it to stick all the bass and other low register instruments completely on the right fucking side of the theater with zero compensation on the other? RIP to the people on the left side I guess, fucking ridiculous here please enjoy my proposed solution

FUCK YEAH WAY BETTER

[thedinanshiral]

My personal DA4 wishlist + thoughts

I’ve been teasing this post for a couple of weeks over at Twitter, i’m the worst! But anyway, since game journalism has decided to confirm, once again, that the next Dragon Age game will be set in Tevinter like that’s breaking news, now’s as good a time as ever to write all this down.

Locations: Tevinter, clearly. It’s been pretty much a given since the end of Trespasser in 2015, with that scene where the Inquisitor stabs a map on a table directly on Tevinter as they promise to go after Solas to stop him. But also concept art and several stories from Tevinter Nights heavily imply Antiva, Nevarra, the Anderfells, and maybe Rivain. For those of you who don’t know your Thedosian Geography 101, that’s basically Northern Thedas. And it makes sense, since so far for three games straight we’ve been first stuck in Ferelden, then the coast of the Free Marches, and later the rest of Southern Thedas. We’ve never been North, only heard of it. So in DA4 i’m sure we will finally be able to visit.

Characters: If we’re going to Tevinter, we must meet Dorian again, maybe meet Maevaris Tilani as well (previously only seen in comics), judging from the latest comics series, i’m hoping for Fenris too. And going by the latest teaser trailer, we might see Varric again. As for characters that so far we have no news of, i’d like to see Cole, the Iron Bull, and if by any chance BioWare feels like blessing us with a Hawke/Fenris reunion i might just die happy.  I’d also very much like to see the Inquisitor, but more on that later.

Companions: considering concept art and the latest teaser trailer, plus Tevinter Nights stories and new characters, we have an interesting repertoire of new potential companions. A Tevinter mage, an ancient elf (like a temple guardian) or a dalish elf (like Strife), a Nevarran mortalitasi or spirit, Antivan Crows, Lords of Fortune (new faction, kind of like treasure hunters), Qunari lady, maybe an alchemist or shapeshifter, Grey Wardens (possibly a dwarf), a liberated or escaped slave, a Siccari (Tevinter spies/assassins)..even past agents of the Inquisition could return. 

Plot: We know Solas wants to take down the Veil. We know there’s two archdemons left, and Grey Wardens are regaining some spotlight in concept art lately. We might have to fight on multiple fronts simultaneously and be strategic about it. Solas might even unleash a double Blight just to keep us distracted while he focus on his own goal, who knows. But many other things are happenig in the margins and all over the place. The Qunari Antaam is having a crisis with some of its members supposedly going rogue, the order they’re so proud of is breaking up, and the whole of Northern Thedas is facing an imminent threat of invasion. Tevinter is still dealing with remnants of the Venatori and might soon be dealing with a slaves rebellion and/or a political and social reform (Magisters Dorian and Maeveris have been working wirh the Lucerni, a group aiming to restore and redeem Tevinter). The Antivan Crows -the de facto rulers of Antiva - may be dealing with a succession crisis, as their First Talon, a powerful feared and respected but old lady, might not be around for much longer and seems her chosen heir has died before his time. Meanwhile in the Anderfells nobody’s heard anything from the Grey Wardens’ HQ at Weisshaupt since the end of Inquisition, and as told in the novel Last Flight, the sudden reappearance of griffons may have had something to do with that radio silence. So you see, get ready for another +100 hours long game because BW has plenty of stuff to keep us busy with. But in short, DA4 seems will be about primarily searching, finding, and dealing with Solas. Regardless of what you decided at the Exalted Council in Trespasser, the Inquisition or what’s left of it is most likely the group orchestrating that mission. As it was so clearly stated then, they need new people Solas doesn’t know so he can’t foresee their actions, so it’s possible the DA4 protagonist is a new agent or a third party hired to do what the Inner circle can’t due to their familiarity with Solas in the past. But at the same time -and this is assuming we get to find Solas in this game - i definitely think the Inquisitor could easily show up again. No, losing an arm doens’t mean they’ve retired forever, prosthetics do exist in Thedas, a world where you can combine dwarven craftmanship with enchantments, seriously, i don’t ever want to hear “but they lost an arm” ever again as an excuse to write them out. And no, marrying Cullen or joining the Red Jennys is no impediment to join the “Stop Solas” Squad; the end of Trespasser means something, mainly that this is personal. Be it they loved them as lovers, as friends or ended up hating his guts for using and betraying them, the Inquisitor’s relationship with Solas makes this very personal, and so having any other character do that face off would cheapen all of it, all that bittersweet angsty development and expectations of either revenge or closure. That moment should happen between those two. It adds a ton of motivation due to their past historyas well, something a new protagonist would lack entirely.  My personal best hope is for a sort of dual protagonist thing, say we play new protagonist for most of the game but a selected missions or scenes where we play as the Inquisitor once again and take over for key and heart-wrenching dialogue options. My second best hope is for the Inquisitor to show up as playable for the moment we catch up with Solas. My third and final best hope is for the inquisitor to be a sort of advisor but more like new protagonist’s boss/employer to whom they report back to and get new missions from. The Inquisitor can be stuck in meetings for the most part of it, i just want to know they’re there, behind a door, super busy but there. A cameo like Hawke’s in Inquisition is the bare miminum i can take, anyhting less than that like a mention in a sidequest description or a footnote in a codex entry would be a total  injustice. 

Romances: I’m open for pretty much anything, as any good BW fan would be. But i’d like romances to feel more alive in the sense that they don’t abruptly get stuck once you exhaust all related quests and dialogue options. As much as my Adaar liked that spank from the Iron Bull, that it was the only thing they could share after their romance was locked was a bit..meh. I liked Dorian’s tho, because his gave one the option to talk a bit, go for a walk, gossip, and sure, it all happened off-screen, and there were limited possibilities, but it was nice and made their relationship feel a bit more real, like they had more to it than kissing and stuff. It happens in most games, once you secure a romanceable companion suddenly you run out of things to do and share with them, and you get stuck with the same 3 lines of dialogue over and over again. There should be a way of solving that.

Side quests: i’m ok with fetch quests initially as it is a good way of forcing the player to go out and explore huge maps, but i’d also like the fetching to have some meaning other than checking things off a list. I want to explore many ruins, and -can’t believe i’m actually saying this- i want a Fade quest. Wait! I know what you’re thinking but don’t kill me just yet, here’s my idea: what if we could visit the Fade at certain locations to witness memories or meet with spirits and recollect information on Solas, his past, his present? Both to understand him better (keep in mind we’ll most likely get a new protagonist who isn’t familiar with him like we are as players) and try to locate him or predict his next move. It would be i think i great way of having visions of Arlathan in its golden age, maybe seeing some of the other Evanuris, how they interacted with each other and with the elves in their service, what really happened ...i just want that sweet, sweet lore, i need it.

Technical stuff: ok, graphics will be amazing for sure, but i also would really really like: better, more varied and longer hairstyles, PLEASE. Body sliders, it’s damn time we get them. Mounts that actually make a difference! Let staves blades make damage in combat, I’M BEGGING HERE. Combined classes, MAGICAL ROGUES! A homebase we can fix up/build on/redecorate as fully as possible (Skyhold was great and i love it to pieces but why were those walls NEVER repaired????) . More casual outfit options, idk i love to dress up my characters, maybe some transmog? A day/night cycle and please i would love to see Thedas’ second moon, also weather variations depending on the region. Yes, i’m ambitious.

Gameplay: i’d like more AI options for companions, but not quite like in DAO, that was too much and i rarely used it. I’m curious how they’ll do combat this time but i know for sure i don’t want the kind of combat that has me going almost frame by frame pausing at every second, it’s annoying for me. I want large areas like in DAI but with a bit more stuff to see and do although one of my favourite maps is the Hissing Wastes so i won’t complain if we get a literal desert but i’d also like it to have secrets hidden around, make me work to find and solve them, i love exploring, i jump and click on EVERYTHING like i’m still a kid playing Monkey Island. A companion in concept art seems to be holding what looks like some form of rifle, so i’m curious how they’d incorporate that in the game. I know Tevinter has the magics and dwarves have the skill, a firearm is totally within the possibilities in-game without breaking any lore; also super curious what sort of skill trees Crows or Lords of Fortune could have, are they rogues, or warriors, or both??

So far, that’s what i got in my head.Well, most of it anyways, i may have missed something but this post has to end somewhere lol

What’s in your head? Feel free to share! Have you been thinking on how you’ll create your next protagonist? All i can think of is magical rogues and that  glowing bow was all the hype i needed.

[pastthevaulteddoors]

What if, in book 3, instead of running off after Pettigrew and Sirius on the map, Remus had the forethought to rush to Snape for the wolfsbane potion. I mean, it was nearly sunset, he would know he couldn’t confront his past friends if he turned werewolf. Snape follows Remus in secret when he rushes out of his office once Remus drank the potion.

Therefore, Remus would never have went batshit crazy when the moon hit his eye (like a big pizza pie).

More under cut because this went far longer than I meant it to.

In the chaos of the transformation, Pettigrew tried to transform into a rat but a mindful werewolf-Remus put the rat in his mouth and held him there like a jail cell. When Snape comes out of the stump, he freaks out at first, but then remembers the wolfsbane potion Remus rushed him to finish. Not trusting either man, Snape demanded that Harry and co. get to the castle for help (partly to keep them away from harm aka werewolf and Sirius).

Remus almost decides to crush rat Pettigrew in his mouth but overcomes that murderous desire so Pettigrew is alive when help arrives. After a few minutes of a Mexican standoff of Snape, a werewolf, a fugitive, dementors, and auroras, Pettigrew is forced to reveal himself. Now with evidence, the Ministry doesn’t send Sirius to the dementors when they take him into custody, but hold him for questioning.

In the end, Sirius is cleared of all charges. Remus still resigns once Snape gets petty and reveals his condition, but when Harry goes to check on his favorite teacher, Sirius is there with him as he’s packing up. Sirius explains how he is going to immediately try to reclaim his family’s home and start knocking down walls and bad memories. When he has approval and proper enchantments done on the house, he’s going to take Harry in.

Remus says he’ll be staying with Sirius, to help with the house and, well, the two have thirteen years of pain and trust issues to overcome.

That’s the first time Harry realizes that these two were perhaps closer than friends.

It only takes a month into the holidays before Harry is invited to Grimmauld Place. Although not blood related, being godfather does include its own veil of protective magics. (Although Remus and Sirius are very British about showing affections to each other, it doesn’t take Harry long to realize that not only are the two on a road to emotional recovery, but the affection between them is definitely romantic love. Not to mention that they share a room and no one says anything about it.)

Anyway, Harry has a great summer with his new family. Sirius goes out a lot for interviews and aims to reclaim his name in society. He also gains an emotional support dog that looks suspiciously like a grim (it’s not a magical beast, it’s legit just a dog trained to assist Sirius after 13 years of Azkaban induced PTSD).

Remus obviously wants to work but is shunned loudly by the public, so he remains at home most days. Harry can tell he’s upset about not being able to find a job and ‘be useful’ he once heard him say, so Harry asks him for defensive lessons. It sparks joy in Remus to teach again, and when Ron and Hermione visit, they let him give them a lesson or two. (To be fair, he’s a kick ass teacher so who wouldn’t want to be tutored by him?)

Otherwise, Remus spends his days fixing up the house and talks of some day creating a house for wayward werewolves. With Sirius’ backing and inheritance, it would be possible.

Year four is as it should be, only Sirius is there to support Harry, and, since he’s a public figure, defends his godson in the daily profit when Rita Skeeter writes her columns. Remus never shows up, as he is not family and he does not want to stir up trouble with everyone knowing his ‘condition.’

Year five, Harry never goes to the Dursley’s and goes directly to Grimmauld place, which has had a huge face-lift since last summer. Remus put a lot of work into creating a home for them. It does become the Order of the Phoenix’s headquarters but still they don’t let Harry in on what’s going on.

Around his birthday, Mrs. Weasley asks the trio to pop over to the store to get eggs since she and Ginny need them to make Harry’s birthday cake. Harry suspects they’ll come back to a surprise party, but does’t probe and lets himself get shoved out the door. Down an alleyway is when they’re attacked by dementors.

Of course, he is not expelled because Dumbledore interferes.

Towards the end of the year, within the Department of Mysteries, Sirius has long since learned to trust more and his wits are about him. He doesn’t get distracted by Harry’s James-like dexterity and therefore is able to get out of the way of Bellatrix’s avada kedavra spell. However, he does become gravely injured to where Harry thinks he’s dead.

He lives though. Because.

Year six is basically the same, but the Order still meets at Grimmauld Place and sometimes the trio is allowed, if only for their own safety. Life is not unbearably dark and grim.

During Christmas, Remus has to finally get firm with Tonk’s flirting that accidentally outs him and Sirius. Only a few didn’t catch onto their relationship so it’s not really too big of a surprise.

I almost want to say some Drarry happens in year six, what with Harry with a new outlook on life, and mentors that wish the best for him. Harry reaches out to Draco until the boy crumbles. When Draco doesn’t kill Dumbledore and Snape does, Harry takes Draco to the Order with him for protection. Shortly after, Mrs. Malfoy deflects as well and goes into hiding at Grimmauld Place. Mr. Malfoy remains a coward at Voldermort’s side.

Year seven, the trio set out on their journey to find and destroy the horcruxes but with the support of his family. Harry is able to use the broken mirror as intended and thus ends up in less deaths. No dead Dobby, or Hedwig, or Mad-Eye, or Tonks, or Remus, or Fred because they were able to communicate and prepare better for the attack. (and damnit I love happy endings!)

When the dust settles and the world starts to right itself, Remus and Sirius finally marry properly. Remus opens his House for Wayward Werewolves. Harry accompanies Draco back to the manor where he is now the head of house (since Mr. Malfoy died... because he was trash) and helps him rebuild.

A few years later, Harry and Ron quickly become dissatisfied with being aurors. Harry decides to become the next DADA teacher. Ron goes to assist his brothers at turning the joke shop into a cash cow as he does in canon, except, ya know, Fred is still alive. Because of course he is.

With Hermione rising in the ranks at the Ministry, she’s able to overturn a lot of backwards thinking and laws on non-Wizards. Therefore, Remus returns to Hogwarts. Maybe as the librarian or transfiguration teacher.

Sirius is a dandy and never gets a real job. Surprisingly, Sirius and Draco become close as in-laws and are fearsome elites amid the magical community. Not fearsome like Draco’s dad was, but in a ‘yes, we’re elites and we’re going to use our power to help those in need. House elves you say? You bet we’re in for the cause!’

...

I... dunno what just happened.

It’s a Harry Potter time of year.

[creativerogues]

Player’s Guide: Meet The Archmages of Capitol!

Well the Player’s Guide is coming together really well, and thanks to @dnd-chamyra-studies, as well as @paradigmanomaly and @nickle-snatcher for providing so much help on building the City of Capitol.

But without any further delay, let’s get into the details...

Archmage of Illusion, The Archmage Indefinable

The Archmage of Illusion never shares his actual name, and often creates elaborate illusions and personas to hide himself.

He’s a High-Level Wizard (obviously) with the magical capabilities to create up to 8 Illusory Duplicates thanks to his ability to cast Mirror Image at-will, and he’s almost accompanied by his Simulacrum, who can do the same...

He’s used many fancy names and personas to hide his identity: Example names include Salem, Owahl, Zakalis and Morgan.

The Archmage of Illusion became famous for being so powerful that when the rival Kingdom of Rassumurait attempted to sail to the shores of Capitol, he disguised the stars they used to navigate so that they ended up lost at sea and where forced to retreat...

What does he look like?

He’s an older Halfling Man, lightly hunched in posture with wild curly grey hair with an arrow through it like a makeshift hairpin. He’s well over 3-foot-tall, even while hunched over, with gross old barefoot hobbit feet with excessive foot hair, his toenails have clearly never been trimmed, and he seems to have some sort of exotic fungal disease on his feet, even starting to develop small mushrooms...

Because when you literally always have a disguise or illusion on you, you don’t really need to look good or wash at all...

He carries a small wooden staff like a cane, and in his other hand he often holds a pipe.

The Archmage of Illusion is known for levitating in conversations with the other Archmages, so they can speak eye-to-eye rather than top-of-head to crotch; and he has a nervous habit of letting out a little giggle whenever he tells the truth.

He’s also recently become addicted to the Laumadorian Plant known as ‘Weeping Flak’, smoking it and adding it like spice and sugar to everything they consume, since Weeping Flak (also known as Bluegrass) is also known to increase one’s arcane powers for a short time after consumption.

Archmage of Enchantment, Father Jack

Father Jack? Well this handsome dwarven wizard used to get every girl he wanted into bed since his beard started to grow. You may be asking why the Archmages call him Father Jack, better pose that question to his 122 Sons and 99 Daughters...

He’s short, stocky, and very clearly dwarven to anyone that looks at him. His skin is slightly tanned from his days on the coast, and his face carries a big bulbous red nose at its center.

His beard seems quite magnificent, with ornate brass and bronze bands adorning their beard. Their beard is also very obviously dyed. There are streaks of grey that have been colored to match their original shade, but don’t quite match.

Another odd feature is his left eye, since he’s missing it, and it appears he’s had a chunk of solid gold carved to look like an eye implanted in the place of his left eye.

He wears a copper ring on one finger, a ring with intricate carvings on its surface, and this Archmage always seems to be followed by a smell of rum and alcohol on his breath...

Archmage of Conjuration, Archmage Butterfly

Her full name is ‘Clawed Butterfly’. A Conjuration Wizard who is always accompanied by her Faithful Hound and her Unseen Servant. She often chooses to use Misty Step rather than walking...

She’s feline and cat-like in appearance, she often wears an ombre-dyed hood that reminds you of a hunting cat. Meanwhile the feline tail of the Archmage winds and flickers with a mind of its own.

She has cat-like slits for eyes, and just to confirm; Yes, she’s a Tabaxi Wizard.

She has tattoos across her face, starting from the corner of her mouth to the edge of her eye, but barely visible under her tabaxi hair.

Her right arm is bizarre and unnatural: One of her arms is a slightly different tone, and slightly shorter in length than the other one, her right-hand having steel claws that appear to be artificially attached to her fingertips.

Her left arm is even more bizarre: She has an extra hand coming out of her left wrist. This extra hand is as small as a child’s and is blackened and seems to be of no use: A failed conjuration experiment perhaps?

She also has an eye on the palm of her left hand, something she hides behind her back in her always regal-looking pose while speaking.

Archmage of Evocation, Archmage Damascus Iados

A Tiefling Evocation Wizard with bright flames that flicker across the back of their hands, and smaller, heatless flames seem to flicker across their skin while the earth seems to tremor slightly while he walks.

In charge of the Tower of Evocation, Archmage Iados is a Tiefling Man with bright red skin, a bald head and two curling horns atop his head like those of a wild ram.

He wears blue and green robes that flow down to his feet, and every so often has heatless flames flickering across his skin before sputtering out on their own.

His left hand has three fingers, while his right hand has seven, and both hands seem to glow very faintly with a low white flame...

Archmage of Abjuration, Archmage Neskul Nyultin

Urban legends say that there used to be a Silver Dragonborn Wizard so skilled in the magics of Abjuration, yet so paranoid, that he stayed deep underground within his Tower, surrounded by a bubble of powerful magics, though when forced to go outside in-person, he sits cross-legged on a Tenser’s Floating Disk, with a globe of protective magics around him at all times...

Archmage Neskul Nyultin is a Dragonborn Wizard with glimmering silver scales, as is usually seen cross-legged on a small disk of force that floats above the ground. His legs seem withered from atrophy, and his body seems very thin for a Dragonborn...

A shimmering globe of arcane wards almost always surrounds him, as he’s almost always seen with his hands inwards, his fingers intertwined and seemingly always concentrating on the many spells that protect his being.

This Dragonborn Archmage has several scales missing and a long deep gash running along his face. He has two long, spiny and membranous ears, and a slightly off-center snout, akin to a poorly reset broken nose.

Upon his head sit two overly curled horns, and in his chest glows a dragonborn heart, a heart that glows bright enough to be seen beneath his scales and through the sphere of arcane wards that surround him.

 After an encounter with a Red Dagger Assassin as a young Archmage, Neskul has become paranoid, as he knows the Red Daggers are master assassins that always get their target, one way or another. 

This paranoia has caused him to become shut-off and shut-in, though he still teaches the students of his Tower through the use of Simulacrums, Projected Images and various other methods of magic, all while hiding himself away deep within the underground of his Tower of Abjuration...

Archmage of War, Archmage Leowynn Wynanthal

A High Elf War Wizard and Bladesinger, Archmage Leowynn is probably the most prominent figure in Capitol aside Archmage Iados.

An elf with pearl-colored hair that seems to glow in the light, with long and curved ears and incredibly long eyebrows with a small pointed nose. He has pale skin, his face having splotches the color of red wine, with exotic runes carved onto his forearms and a long thin rapier by his side.

He wears flowing robes that looks as if they’re made from specks of starlight, he also wears elven ear clasps made of spun silver and an engraved leather archery bracer on his left wrist.

He has many scars and callouses along his forearms, perhaps formed over many brutal sparring sessions.

But his hands can sometimes be the most fascinating thing about him. He has a recessive finger on each hand, and a Holy Symbol of the Black Hand of Bane branded onto his right hand.

Leowynn is maybe my favorite Archmage out of the lot. He’s the Archmage in charge of both the Tower of War that trains War Wizards, and the War College that trains up the regular infantrymen and soldiers.

He’s probably the most publicly seen figure, and his whole host of magic items, from Bracers of Archery to his Robe of Stars to everything else he carries, also makes him look the part of an Archmage (he’s also the only Archmage to travel to another Plane of existence...)

He’s also known for his spats and arguments with the other Archmages, since the War College has always had an uneasy alliance with the Edhel Halls Library, and with Archmage Leowynn being one of the few Archmages to of taken part in the War Underground between the Elves of the West and the Drow of the East over 50 Years ago, he’s probably the oldest Archmage in the King’s Council, but he seems to favor Archmage Iados and students from the Tower of Evocation especially...

Archmage of Necromancy, Archmage Froja Dundrek

Ya haven’t heard of the old tale of Froja’s head? Well let me tell ya!

There was once a Wizard called Froja who got sentenced to death for using Necromancy and black magics back when it was still a crime, before the War Underground basically. She managed to break free and sneak into the Archives of the Edhel Halls, the place that holds all the scrolls with the old magics in ‘em. She found a spell in those forbidden pages, one that granted her eternal life.

After she cast the Spell, she went in-front of the King himself and asked for forgiveness before demanding her freedom, he refused. Put her in Jail and chopped off her head the next day.

Well as it turns out, she’s still alive! And she now teaches other Wizards. But they still keep her head as a training object for young students...

The best way to describe Froja’s apperance is that of a headless corpse.

She’s a shadowy and shrouded figure, wearing boots and thick black leather straps around the ankles. She also wears grey patterned pants and a slender thin belt made of the same black leather.

A shimmering feathered shawl drapes from her shoulders like a pair of dark wings, and a brooch that seems to be made of woven strands of pure silver hangs from her left breast.

And above her shoulders is a collar made of woven tree twigs, the twigs and sticks thorny and withered black. 

And finally, above this collar, where a head would be, there’s nothing at all! No head, and yet the body lives on...

Archmage Neskul has been at odds with Archmage Froja since the beginning, with Archmage Neskul begging Froja time and time again to reveal whatever magics and spells she used to maintain this life (or un-life) for eternity, never being able to truly die. And time and time again Froja had refused his advances, never revealing even a single detail about the spell she used to gain this eternal life...

Archmage of Transmutation, Drasaaria Argal

There once was a Transmutation Wizard so prolific that eventually any gold coming into her city was treated like scrap metal to her...

Archmage Argal is a Half-Drow Transmutation Wizard, and probably the only figure with a dark elf bloodline that’s tolerated by most people in the Capitol. When she joined the King’s Council, the uproar was tremendous, as the War Underground between the Elves of the West and the Drow had ended not a decade before...

But you wouldn’t think she’s a half-drow if you looked at her, because her skin isn’t dark... It’s metallic!

Her skin has a shine to it like a fine polished metal, and some might even mistake her for a statue standing in the room if you didn’t know her...

She wears very little actual clothing, but hold onto your thirst because she still wears clothes, specifically a pair of white gloves woven from the finest spider silk, while an ornate ear-cuff in the fashion of an orchid spirals around her left ear.

Her leggings have an opalescent sheen, and she’s also one of the many Archmages that likes to stand and walk barefoot...

Argal is another one of my favorites, and I knew I wanted to put a Drow on the Council because I just wanted to see what would happen...

And trust me when I say she’s no pushover, as my Players have found out time and time again.

That shiny skin she has: That’s Adamantine. Yep, she transmuted her skin to become living adamantine, so you try facing down a 20th Level Archmage with 23 AC...

 And she’s also been known to horribly torture people the Council wants dead, or wants answers from. She’s turned a guy’s brains into mercury, polymorphed a guy into a robin before turning said bird into a tiny solid gold statue, she’s even wiped a Player’s memory clean using Programmed Amnesia... She’s a mean one...

She’s also one of the Wizards (alongside Archmage Froja) who’s at odds with Archmage Neskul, since he keeps asking her how she got her adamantine skin and she keeps refusing to answer him.

And due to most of the other Archmages just barely tolerating the presence of a Drow on their Council, that just means she trains up her students in the Tower of Transmutation even harder, which often results in the Tower of Transmutation producing some of the most powerful Mages...

Archmage of Divination, Archmage Ofyne Yuvidet

There used to be a Wizard so skilled in divination magics that she never bothered having a conversation, because she already knew how it was going to end...

Ofyne is a Human Wizard and the Archmage of Divination. She wears old dull blur robes over tattered clothing. She has long and frizzy graying-brown hair that falls just below her shoulders, with what looks like small woodland critters wriggling around in her hair...

Her body seems incredibly damaged. Her hands are stained multiple colors of brown and green, and acid burns that run along both hands.

On her right hand is a small blackened sixth finger that twitches of its own volition. She also possesses what’s left of a still-attached left hand. It looks like it was crushed but was never amputated. She also has a horrid burn mark running down from her left elbow to her crushed hand.

One leg seems severely deformed: Ofyne uses a set of double crutches to walk, but more often floats and flies around as she finds it far easier on her body. She’s also one of the Wizards that walks barefoot, and smells of burnt tea leaves!

She seems blind, her eyes pale and clouded over with cataracts in her old age, with bags under her eyes that suggests she probably hasn’t slept comfortably in many years...

She has no nose, instead having a big hole where her nose would be, and her mouth is permanently crooked, giving her a cocky smirk and almost wicked grin. However, Ofyne wears a prosthetic nose and mask made of silvery-blue mithral, which keeps the prosthetic in place while partially obscuring her face to prying eyes.

Small mushrooms emerge and grow from her neck and shoulders, she also has several scars around her neck, some apparently self-inflicted, almost like she’s had her throat slit multiple times and healed from every wound...

Ofyne (or Archmage Yuvidet if you want to call her that) is probably the most interesting Archmage. She hasn’t cut or groomed her hair in over 8 Years, and her eyes seem to glow when near poison or fresh blood.

She’s in charge of the Library of Saturnity in Fostin, ans she’s also one of the very few Archmages that’s actually allied with Archmage Neskul.

However, the Archmage of Divination is currently missing and has been missing for some number of months now, but this has yet to become public knowledge...

Ofyne is probably the oldest Human on the Council (aside from Archmage Froja and that eternal life thing she has going on...) and Ofyne’s seen a lot.

You’d think for a Divination Wizard she’d be fine right, no scratches at all because she knows the future...

Well when you have to take orders from the King, the Hand of the King, and a bunch of Archmages (lest you be straight up murdered), you’re forced into situations where you know you’re going to get messed up. (Google ‘The Seven Against Thebes’ if you want to see where I got some inspiration...)

And that’s all the Archmages!

And yes, I know there’s other Wizard Schools like the School of Invention and the School of Onomancy, but since those aren’t Official Subclasses yet, I’m yet to make them canon in my world, so no, there is no Archmage of Onomancy or Archmage of Invention... Yet!

But tell me what you think of the Archmages of Capitol, what are your first impression, are they to be trusted?

Let me know in the Comments with your Replys and Reblogs!

[theeggoman]

The traditional wedding clothes of both the Dragons and the Outlanders! This has been on Patreon in progress shots for weeks because I couldn’t figure WHAT COLORS EVERYTHING SHOULD BE!!! If you want to know more about what the garments mean/ where they come from/ how they fit the characters, it’ll all be in the cut below!

Read Tarchak 

So since Dragons don’t really transform into their humanoid forms, if at all (Most Dragons will never transform just bc they don’t want to,) I figured they wouldn’t have any actual cultural garments. Dragons mate for life, and they LITERALLY just bang and boom, they’re together, no ceremony, but this is not a porno so that ain’t happening. The only real ceremonial thing that could be considered wedding material is the exchanging of scales, where they wear their mates scales on their chest. Since the Dragons and the Elves are very close friends, Queen Nefertiti asks them to create garments for the wedding, which they are more than happy to do! Also, transforming is a difficult kind of magic, which requires a lot of practice, which is why Princess Aggie still has her long ass claws and horns, and in the comic during high stress situations she’ll just hulk out back into her Dragon form as a defense mechanism. Queen Nefertiti could look entirely human if she wanted to, but she likes intimidating Chief T’Chaka by reminding her how dangerous she is.

SO, the Dragons clothes: They’re made up of very free flowing fabrics that can be easily wrapped around and slipped on and off, with intricate patterns representing Dragon flames and scales sewn into the silk from moonstone or gold. There’s a lot of gold and precious gems sewn into the robes as well because Dragons horde treasure and shiny things, and there are slits in the back incase they want their wings out in the transformation. It looks like just a pile of pretty cloth and blankets on the floor before it’s all put on and tied up. The crowns are actually gifts from the Orcs, forged in their dungeons as a wedding gift. Nefertiti’s crown is made of black steel, and Aggie’s is made of Iron. The crowns are enchanted to grow with the Dragons while they transform. And the golden chains and jewelry are wedding gifts from the Succubi. In the Succubus and Incubus culture, dressing your bride up with lots of dangly jewelry on their horns is a symbol of good will, because they wouldn’t dare dirty their precious gems by running you through with their horns. Basically the Dragons garments are comprised of all of their allies cultures, while those allies try to make something entirely new for the Dragons.

Dragons are ancient creatures that posses magic that is neither dark nor light, so they are one of the only creatures that are friends with beings that practice dark magic, (orcs, goblins, necromancers,) as well as those that practice light magic (Elves, Faeries, Nymphs.) All magical creatures consider Dragons to be something akin to Gods, and since Dragons are vain creatures they LOVE the attention.

NOW, the Outlander clothes: I’ll start with T’chaka, because she’s the only 100% Barbarian here.

The crowns were forged by Outlander blacksmiths a few generations back, but are hardly ever worn except for special ceremonies because Barbarians value strength above flashy symbolisms of power. She of course has the Monarchs Cape, which has been passed down from Chief to Chief and is always worn, and she just has her normal face makeup and jewelry bc sSHE’S not the one getting married, she doesn’t need to get all decorated, but her armor is the thing that sticks out.

It’s very hard to make, and kept polished and shined with details made of gold. The reason it’s cut so STUPIDLY, basically protecting nothing and showing off her vital organs and access to her heart, is because this is a symbol of trust. That armor isn’t meant for battle, it’s meant for peace treaties, to show she is unarmed and truly wants to negotiate. Since this wedding is a political treaty between the Dragons and the Humans, they need all the trust and goodwill they can get. But since this is T’Chaka she can’t do anything easily, so she also is wearing actual War armor as well, which is easily distinguishable by the color of the steel. Instead of shiny silver, her boots are black steel, and her shoulder armor has actual Dragon teeth forged into it from a Dragon she herself killed, because she STILL hates Dragons, tradition be damned she’s gonna show them who’s BOSS!!

Now, Sebastian: Sebastian wasn’t born an Outlander, however how he 100% identifies as one and loves his people. If you want to know more about his backstory and how his mechanical limbs work, you can look at my post here:

His clothing is a combination of Outlander and his native village clothing, with vests and button up shirts and tied up leather boots instead of the fur lined ones. His cloak was weaved from moonlight, a technique used by the elves but was ironically also discovered by his people and taught to him by his grandmother. These cloaks are extremely light and sheer, but also crazy strong, kind of like Mithrel from LOTR, and it can also act as an invisibility cloak. Inscribed on his limbs are voodoo magic symbols from his culture. His crown is far more gentle than T’Chaka’s, made from Silver and crafted very delicately, and it was a gift from the Elves back when T’Chaka and Sebastian got married bc Sebastian’s Alchemy and mechanical knowledge helped the elves create a new irrigation system for farming. 

And now, Princess Chaka! Her clothing is mostly Outlander, with small bits of Sebastians culture added in the form of small golden talismans tied onto her boots that sound like bells as she walks, a wedding practice from his village to alert the groom if the bride was nearby. He’s sewn voodoo fertility symbols into her shirt and added some decorative ribbons here and there, and a belt with voodoo symbols of long life to go along with her Outlander belt. Chief T’Chaka made a Dragon Tooth Shoulder brace for her daughter as well to show the Dragons they mean business! As an Outlander Bride, she’s wearing decorative gold and red ruby jewelry in a few places, specifically around her waist and neck to symbolize vulnerability to her partner. Sebastian insisted that she not wear her Dragon teeth necklace so she’s wearing a wold teeth necklace instead. That choker with the blue pearl that both T’Chaka and Chaka wear is given to them at infancy to represent the next chief in the bloodline. Chaka has a dagger bc it’s customary for the bride to always have a weapon incase she changes her mind last minute and wants to stab her spouse (lol) and also to prevent forced marriages. If she doesn’t stab them, the dagger is given to the spouse as a wedding present. Her crown is made of gold and rubies, and is a wedding gift from the Succubi, as well as a pledge of alliance bc any ally of the Dragons is an ally to the Succubi.

OKAY, I hope you guys liked that weird convoluted backstory and over-explanation of wedding clothes, and I hope you read the comic!!! 

[be11atrixthestrange]

The Underground

Harry Potter orders Kreacher to do the impossible: have some fun.

Written for the International Wizarding School Competition Theme and Prompts: -Write about an oppressed character or group creating something that is theirs as an act of independence from their oppressors [Song]- Used To The Darkness by Des Rocs [Object]- Button

~The Underground~ ----------------------------------

-12 Grimmauld Place-

"Kreacher? Can you come into the drawing-room?"

Kreacher was startled by the voice that echoed into the kitchen. Even though he hadn't served the Black Family in years, he still resided in their home, and Harry Potter's voice simply felt out of place.

Master's calling, but Kreacher doesn't want to talk to him. Kreacher might not have to. Master didn't give an order. Maybe Kreacher can say he's busy...

Even though Harry Potter's question wasn't technically a command, Kreacher still felt a tug of obligation toward the drawing-room, from where his rightful master had called.

Kreacher must remember he serves the Potter boy. Even though the Potter boy doesn't ever give clear orders.

He dropped the cleaning supplies onto the kitchen counter and dragged himself away into the other room.

"Hi," said Harry brightly. He was standing at an open desk drawer, pointing inside. "What's this?"

Kreacher shuffled toward the drawer and peered inside. There were old shards of parchment, old quills, inkwells, and other miscellaneous junk, but notably to Kreacher, there was a button.

Master won't notice it. He won't think it's peculiar.

"This is a junk drawer," Kreacher stated.

Except for the button.

"Even the button?"

Master was not supposed to find out about the button.

Because he couldn't lie even if he wanted to, Kreacher reluctantly shook his head. "No. The button is not junk."

"So it's yours?"

Kreacher nodded.

"Did someone give you clothes?" Harry lifted his eyebrows imploringly and added "Was it Hermione? Did she try again?"

Kreacher couldn't shake his head fast enough. Kreacher would never accept a gift of clothes, he thought.

"Tell me how you got it. And while you're at it, tell me why it's burning hot," said Harry. "That's the only way I noticed it."

As Kreacher could not detect any available loopholes in Harry's command, he was compelled to tell the truth. So he told Harry what he wanted to know.

The button was a gift from another house-elf. They chose a button because it was small, compact, and easy to hide. House-elves weren't supposed to own things, so possessing a button, something of inherently little value wouldn't raise flags. It was also a common enough household object that it could be thrown into a junk drawer and remain undetected by a wizard.

The button happened to be enchanted with a Protean Charm. House-elves used it as a communication device, and when it burned hot, it meant it was time to gather.

"Gather?" asked Harry, once Kreacher had finished. "Where do you gather?"

The subtlety of the button was supposed to prevent questions like these. Masters generally overlooked the cleverness of their servants, but not Harry Potter.

Kreacher answered him as vaguely as he could. "Underground."

There was a hint of pride in Harry's eyes. He smiled. "You know, we used this same charm back in school to enchant galleons to communicate the time of Dumbledore's Army meetings…," he trailed off, reminiscing.

"Kreacher won't go," he croaked. "Kreacher doesn't want to go to The Underground."

"Why not?" said Harry. "You've been summoned. I think they're expecting you."

Kreacher doesn't enjoy the Underground.

"Kreacher won't. Kreacher doesn't like it."

"Go have fun, Kreacher," said Harry, as he tossed the flaming hot button into Kreacher's hand. "That's an order."

Kreacher, who could see no way around following his master's command, grasped the button, frowned at Harry, and vanished to The Underground.

-The Underground-

If a Muggle stumbled upon Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all they would see is a run-down ruin and a sign alerting them to potential danger. It would be unlikely for a Muggle to even get close enough to see anything, because repelling charms kept them far enough away and filled them with a sense of foreboding when crossed. The Underground repelled Wizards with a similar set of enchantments.

For a Wizard, crossing the barrier of the wards felt like walking into a curtain of negativity. First, they could no longer see their clothes, and became convinced that they were naked. Unlike House-elves, Wizards weren't used to feeling so self-conscious and humiliated.

The second effect was regret. They would feel it the minute they walked through. Any questionable morality of their most recent decisions swam to the forefront of their minds and demanded repentance. House-elves were accustomed to the constant urge to self-punish, but Wizards were not.

Lastly, the wards rendered their wands as useless and invisible as their clothes. They still had wands, of course, but they could no longer see, feel or use them. Most Wizards scrambled into their pockets the moment they became convinced that they were naked, and when they couldn't find their wands, they panicked. House-elves remained unaffected, since their magic didn't require wands.

There were also physical barriers designed to filter Wizards that managed to move past the wards. The Underground had no visible doors, and the only way to enter was through Apparition. The same enchanted button that alerted the elves to a gathering acted as an apparition-induced portkey. Without it, they'd have nowhere to go, no direction.

In order for a Wizard to enter The Underground, they had to find an enchanted button, resist the crippling negativity of the wards, and try to apparate wandlessly once inside the protective barrier.

It was safe to say that Wizards didn't come around too often.

*******

Kreacher reappeared in a large empty field on the Welsh coast. It was dark out, he could smell salt in the air, and the crashing waves muffled the reverberating bass from the underground speakeasy nestled under the cliffs.

He stepped inside the wards— or at least he thought he did. The wards did not affect Kreacher, so he wouldn't truly know if he was within their boundaries until he clasped the button in one hand and snapped the other's fingers…

And there he was. Kreacher materialized inside the uneven walls of The Underground where the smell of elf-made wine was strong enough to make him dizzy, and the wailing of a fellow elf's off-key attempt at karaoke assaulted his ears relentlessly.

Kreacher doesn't want to be at The Underground. Kreacher doesn't approve.

The room was decorated with balloons and sparkling gold streamers that reflected beams directly into Kreacher's eyes. Kreacher, who was used to darkness, winced at the light.

Harry Potter ordered Kreacher to come here. Harry Potter sent Kreacher to have fun.

Kreacher dragged himself past an open closet bursting with colorful scarves, socks, and jewelry. He scowled at a pair of elves who were taking turns adorning themselves with as many flamboyant accessories that they could fit on their small frames.

He shuddered at the thought of putting on clothes and the punishment it would earn him if he were still serving the Blacks. He watched the elves for a few moments, before his eyes settled on a box that overflowed with vibrantly hued knit hats.

Kreacher could try one. Kreacher serves Harry Potter now, and master Harry wouldn't mind.

Just the thought paralyzed the elf with guilt. Even though his current master would never punish him for it, for some odd reason he still felt chained to the expectations of those he served before Harry. With a shudder, he tore his gaze away from the tempting box of clothes and continued his exploration of the bar.

Kreacher stumbled across the room, eventually happening upon a table of rowdy elves. They were carelessly holding drinks that sloshed around their glasses and spilled down their hands when they threw their heads back in laughter. He shuffled past the table to see the source of their amusement— an elf that stood on her chair, mimicking the words of her master.

"And then she tried to throw the hot soup at Velga's face but," the House-elf named Velga paused, possibly for dramatic effect, while the other elves leaned in to listen more intently, "she dropped the bowl on her own foot!"

The elves burst into another round of laughter and leaned back on the legs of their chairs, splashing the contents of their glasses around. Velga remained standing and adjusted the position of the oversized sunglasses and scarf she had likely taken from the front closet. She waited patiently for the laughter to settle before she spoke again.

"Then," she continued, commanding everyone's attention back. "She tried to run toward Velga, but the floor was slippery with soup, so she fell down instead and hit her head!"

There was another chorus of guffaws around the table, and one elf laughed so hard he choked on his wine, showering mead across the table from his long, hooked nose. None of the other elves seemed to care, but Kreacher trembled at the distant memory of a time he had been so uninhibited, only to earn a beating from the Black family matriarch.

He wanted to join in the laughter, and he tried. He served Harry now, and technically could laugh at a Witch or Wiizard's expense without repercussions. But for some reason, the laughter got stuck in his throat. It no longer came naturally after so many years of repression.

Kreacher can't.

Kreacher turned away from Velga and her raucous audience and shuffled over to the stage, where another huddle of elves stood clapping and cheering. The elf onstage held a microphone to his lips and was belting the lyrics to a song Kreacher had never heard before.

I'm too damn young to give up on the light

I'm used to the darkness. I'm used to the darkness…

The song had a strong beat and a heavy bass, and Kreacher felt his foot start to tap along. It didn't help that Dezzy— whose name Kreacher guessed by the supportive chants of the dancing elves below the stage— was quite a performer. Like Velga, Dezzy was dressed flamboyantly from head to toe, clearly having raided the same closet at the bar's entrance. The sequined bomber jacket he wore was plastered with glitter that reflected light like a disco ball. A pair of aviator glasses rested on his nose to keep the beams out of his eyes, and every stomp of his tap-shoe-clad feet added another heart-pumping beat.

Kreacher noticed the involuntary tap of his toes and froze in fear. He put all of his willpower into steadying his foot. For a moment, he wondered if this is what Harry Potter meant when he ordered him to 'have fun', but it couldn't be— at this point in Kreacher's long life, doing something so unproductive as dancing only induced more guilt.

Kreacher shouldn't dance.

Kreacher knew that he'd eventually be unable to resist the dance floor's allure if he stayed, so he turned around and stumbled to the bar instead. As he took a seat, he squinted up at the menu to read the drink options, but the words were obscured by large scrawling letters that revealed the reason for the evening's gathering.

Tonight We Honor Dobby, A Free Elf

Dobby disobeyed his masters. Dobby didn't follow all orders.

Kreacher had thought those words many times, but this time the thought came with notably less judgment than it used to.

"Pleased to see you Kreacher," said a voice behind the bar. "Winky didn't expect Kreacher to answer her call."

Kreacher narrowed his eyes at Winky. "Kreacher didn't want to answer. Kreacher doesn't like coming here."

Winky poured Kreacher a glass of magenta-tinted wine and slid it across the bar into his hand. "Then why is Kreacher here?"

Kreacher picked up his wine glass and sniffed it, as if he was testing for poison. He didn't like to drink things he hadn't poured himself, especially underneath caverns by the sea. "Master Potter found the button and ordered Kreacher to come. He ordered Kreacher to have fun."

Winky nodded. "Most masters would punish their elves upon finding the button. Kreacher is lucky."

Kreacher shook his head and stared intently at his wine, still unsure if he should drink it.

"Is Kreacher following his master's orders?" continued Winky.

The older elf grunted. "Kreacher is here," he said, gingerly raising the glass to his lips. He took a small sip, and was quite pleased with the taste. "But Kreacher is not having fun," he added, before taking a larger gulp of wine.

"Has Kreacher tried on clothes?"

"Kreacher won't," he said, thinking of Velga, and Dezzy, and the other foolish-looking elves piling on clothes at the entry closet.

Winky nodded. "Has Kreacher tried singing?"

Kreacher looked over to the stage where Dezzy was now bowing as his audience applauded. He passed the microphone to another elf who then began rumbling the first few lyrics of a vaguely familiar Weird Sisters song— something about Hippogriffs. Kreacher shook his head. He had no desire to listen.

"Kreacher doesn't sing."

"Well, if Kreacher thinks it would be fun," said Winky, as she motioned toward the round table that was crowded with laughing elves. Velga was back at it with another anecdote of her master. "Kreacher can make fun of Harry Potter."

Kreacher didn't even know what he would say. Harry Potter was nice to him, and would never throw hot soup in his face. Harry Potter usually gave him reasonable orders, with the exception of this one— having fun.

"Kreacher can't make fun of his master."

"That's where you're wrong," said Winky. "Here at The Underground, Kreacher can if he wants to. That's why Winky built it. Winky knows Dobby would have loved it here," she added sadly.

Kreacher took another long sip of wine. "Kreacher doesn't want to make fun of Harry Potter."

Want. Kreacher was still uncomfortable speaking in terms of wants, rather than needs— or more accurately— duties. Maybe it would get easier someday.

"Very well then, Kreacher. No one, not even Harry Potter, can force Kreacher to have fun."

Kreacher sighed— the stress of carrying out Harry Potter's order was growing on him, but the wine was helping. Winky seemed to understand, because she refilled his glass before scurrying along the bar, where another elf was waving her down.

Kreacher continued sipping his wine, staring solemnly into the glass, and tried to repress the rising guilt that came with leaving Harry Potter's orders unfulfilled. Maybe someday Kreacher will have fun at The Underground.

[mareebrittenford]

I’ve never believed in magic. I’ve never seen anything that’s convinced me of it, especially not living here in Anaheim, California. It might feel magical to make that big trip to Disneyland, but outside of that shiny spotlight, it’s all boring or depressing. 

There’s no magic here. It’s not a special place to grow up. It’s too far from the beach to be cool, too far from L.A. to be hip. It’s dull suburbia, pushing the edge of seedy.

Perhaps that’s why I felt so drawn to something that felt a little outside of normal. The Fairy House. 

I’d never noticed it before this last summer. I call it The Fairy House because it looks like something straight out of a fairy tale, the old-fashioned kind that hasn’t been processed to remove the nasty bits. It’s got a real wood shingle roof covered in creeping vines. There’s diamond-shaped windows of wavy colored glass and a fence that looks like drunk elves built it in the middle of the night out of materials they thought were pretty. It even smells special. Rich and damp and green, despite the baking dry heat that’s overrun everything else.

It’s obviously just a house. A funky, water-restrictions-ignoring old house that’s shoved its way into my head. I don’t even know why I noticed it. There are other old houses that are falling apart around here.

But somehow it’s just special. Cute. Not quite belonging.

I’ve altered my running route, to the point of doing extra miles in the summer heat, just so I can run past it. It keeps my mind occupied for the rest of the run, coming up with stories about what if. What if it really was enchanted? I’ve been reading up on older versions of the familiar stories. The kind where there’s no magical save at the last moment. The kind where people die for making bad choices. 

If the house were really enchanted, I’d say there would be a 50/50 chance of my fascination being a curse or something. But I wonder, as I stop in front of it and breathe in the sweet smell of flowers and grass, if this was how Hansel and Gretel felt. This strange desire to know. To see. To go inside.

In the end, they’re just silly stories to keep my mind entertained on the long solo runs. Around here people know better than to believe in magic. When you’ve seen backstage, you know that it’s all a trick. All there is to magic is people working to create the illusion.

The house might not be a planned illusion. But my stories about it are just stories, like an oasis in the desert that evaporates when you get closer.

I’m fifteen, so even if I’d ever been taken in by the idea of magic, I’m too old for it now. I have more important things to worry about. School. Getting into college. 

When I meet up with the track team the week before school starts, I casually suggest that we take the run along Orangethorpe. Because there’s trees. Everyone wants shade, right? Of course it’s already late afternoon, since no one wants to run in the full heat of summer if they can avoid it. So shade isn’t that important.

I still want to run past my fairy house. It’s been a few days, and I miss it.

Lionel, the new team captain, rolls his eyes. He knows my motive. He’s one of the few people that has bothered to keep up his training over the summer. He’s also one of my best friends. I’ve made him run this route enough times for him to complain about it. 

“You need to be careful, or people are going to start calling you the girl who obsesses over weird houses.”

I roll my eyes, but he ignores me, turning away to call out and get the attention of the messy group. He has to clap his hands and yell a few times to get their attention.

Now would be the time to give an inspiring speech about the exciting competitions we have in the season ahead of us, and Lionel makes an attempt, but he’s not much for inspiring speeches. He’s a tall black guy, his long, lean body the ideal runner’s build. He’s going to be good at most of the captain stuff, and he’s got a great eye for talent. But he’s not what you’d call a natural public speaker. We’ll have to find our inspiration elsewhere.

That doesn’t matter today. It’s traditional to make this first run easy. The hell workouts will come in the next few weeks. 

“It’s better to start soft so these out-of-shape idiots don’t quit on us,” Lionel told me earlier. Their commitment level isn’t the best anyway. We aren’t exactly an all-star team. 

I mostly tune out his speech and focus on twisting my hair into a rough French braid so it doesn’t frizz or tangle too much. Of course as soon as I start sweating I’m going to have a frizzy halo around my face, but at least it’ll be kind of controlled. 

Lionel finishes talking, and we all straggle off down the street, some people dropping to a walk almost immediately.

I fall into step with Lionel in a pack with a few other kids who haven’t skipped training completely over the summer.

“Oh wow, I wonder why we’re running this route,” he says smirking. He knows very well why.

“Why are we?” asks Brad, dropping in on my other side. He crowds me a little, and I edge closer to Lionel. Brad has never forgiven me for only going on one date with him. That was one more date than I should’ve. It gives me perverse pleasure to see that his pale skin is now bright red and he’s streaming sweat. Someone didn’t stay in shape over the summer.

“Lyse has a local tourist attraction she likes to cruise past,” Lionel says. He puts on a high-pitched voice. “If you would turn your attention to the building coming up on your right. It’s a falling down old house, which our esteemed teammate Carlyse believes to be inhabited by fairies—” I elbow him in the side, and he makes a choked sound as if I’ve done him some actual harm. Carlyse is my full name, but he only uses it when he wants to annoy me.

“What?” Brad frowns. “What are you guys even talking about?”

We’ve just reached the house, and I flick my thumb at it in annoyance. “This old house. I think it’s cute. And I don’t think fairies live there.” Okay, when I’m right in front of it… maybe I do. Or something like that.

Brad shakes his head. “Why are you guys always such jerks? I'm not an idiot. It’s a model train store. Perfect for nerds. You should visit.” He snorts in annoyance and gives up his battle to keep up with us, dropping back to a walk. 

I look up and down the street. It’s a light industry/retail area, and the fairy house is sandwiched between a mattress outlet and a janitorial supply store. Further down is a sporting goods store, and a FedEx depot. There’s lots of businesses. But one thing there isn’t?

“Hey, do you see a model train store anywhere?” I scan back and forth.

“Nope. Just your dopey house.”

“What was he talking about then?”

Lionel shrugs, unconcerned. “He’s just pulling your leg. You know how he is. Or maybe he got confused. There is a model airplane store down on the next block.”

How could he look right at the fairy house and see a model store, train or otherwise? It’s weird. I look back over my shoulder and see him with a couple other teammates who have stopped to walk too. They’re laughing and pointing at the house.

Obviously he’s not confused. Just Brad being his usual asshat self.

I resolve to put him and the stupid house out of my mind.

I actually succeed for a week or so.

This is the opening from my new book The Liminal Gate. Check it out!

[microwaveabl]

Alright fuckers,

I decided to post what I have right now of my story, starting at Comic Con. @septicake​ hasn’t responded all day, but I hope they like it. Flowey, sentient toilets, and gay Obi Wan are here!

9

The next morning, we were both excited. We were finally going to get our answers. Fairly early that morning, we set out. It took us a bit to find the convention center, which Robin remarked upon: “This sounds exactly like the sort of thing we should’ve prepared for earlier this week”. I hate it when he’s right.

When we got there, we were awestruck at the spectacle before us. Hundreds of people, dressed as wizards, elves, orcs, comic book superheroes, video game characters, and soooooooo much more were there. Cosplayers of every kind, colors everywhere, it was incredible! I can’t begin to describe the wonder I felt, or everything I wondered at.

“All the hype was worth it,” Robin whispered to me, and I slowly nodded.

“This is… wow,” I responded, my eyes large. The twos of us, Robin and I, walked into the center, and my jaw dropped. It was even better than the outside! So many people, packed into the place! I knew it was big, but now I was wondering how exactly I was supposed to entertain everybody while Robin looked through them.

“Okay, slight change to the plan. I’m going to go up on that stage and begin my act. I’ll invite some people up, do some cool stuff. I’ll use a spell to broadcast my voice, for I think it’d be difficult to get a connected microphone headpiece thing. You get up there-” I pointed up to some of the pathways near the ceiling, probably so that those large posters on the wall could be hung, or something “- and use this charm of seeing” -I produced a small magnifying glass from my pocket - obviously enchanted, not just a magnifying glass “-and scan the crowd. You know what to look for, and, I don’t know, figure out a way to contact them. Maybe you have a charm, or something, I’m not sure. Improvise, you’re good at that!”

“This is a terrible idea,” Robin told me, “and you’re going to get kicked out. Still, I can’t think of a better idea.”

I grinned. “Good, and besides, if I do well enough, they won’t want me to leave. Now go up, and get ready.”

I waited while he made his way through back ways and such, until he was up on the pathways (I should really figure out what they are called, but we don’t have them where I come from, and I don’t feel like learning it). He tossed something down at me, not sure how it got to me through the crowd, and I looked questioningly at him. He mimed putting it in my ear, and it did look like some kind of earpiece. I gently placed it in my ear, wincing slightly, for I didn’t think it was meant for my pointy elven ears. 

“Hey,” a voice that sounded like Robin’s came into my ear. I jumped, and looked up at him. He was grinning, of course.

“Can we communicate through these?” I hesitantly asked, to which I heard, while noticing it was definitely Robin speaking, “Yeah, I found a couple earpieces and tuned them to each other. Don’t know how I managed, but hey, if it ain't broke, don’t knock it.”

I chuckled, and responded, “Fair. Let’s get this show on the proverbial road and the literal stage.”

I pushed my way through the crowd, passing Captain Americas, Captain Rogers’, Captain Mal Reynolds’, and many others that were not Captains. Finally, I made my way to the stage. Wondering what exactly I would say, I jumped up onto it, where there were luckily no people, and muttered to myself, “I’m an introvert, and yet I’m here at such an extrovert place, about to do something terrifying. It’s a good thing I really want to get home, and I really hope this works.”

I activated my charm as people looked up at me, wondering what an elf was doing up on stage, and began speaking.

“Hello, all of you. You might be wondering what I’m doing up here on stage. To be honest, I am not sure either, but I think I’m supposed to give a demonstration or whatever it’s called for my cosplay, but they didn’t really tell me. Hey, can I get some boxes or something destructible up here?”

A couple confused convention workers brought up some empty boxes, while I sweated, wondering if I should make a run for it. Somehow, though, nobody came up and stopped me. I wasn’t even sure why there was a stage up here in the first place. Was an event or actual demonstration supposed to happen? Whatever the case, this was working, and I could see Robin up there scanning the crowd, though none of them really should be interested yet.

It was time to change that.

I deftly pulled out my sword, keeping it in this dimension. I did some basic fighter’s moves, which seemed to impress the people. 

“This is one of two Vorpal blades of mine. The name is misleading, or rather, does not do my blades justice. A vorpal blade simply is one that has the capacity to decapitate a foe, especially in fantasy games such as Dungeons and Dragons. However, all of my blades are like that.”

A few nervous laughs floated to me. I looked up at Robin for support, and he gave me a thumbs up. He spoke to me, saying, “Now, tell them the special thing and give them a little demonstration.”

“Okay. My blades are special, for they are enchanted. They can change dimensions at my will, and thus pass through objects in this one when I desire, and join back up in this one to cut what I want.”

To demonstrate, I deftly stabbed my sword at the first box, phasing it just before it broke the flimsy cardboard.

“Now, that may not look impressive, as you do not know that my blades do any damage at all, or that these boxes were not staged so I would not appear to do any damage. Furthermore, optical illusions could render it such that I did not stab the cardboard at all, and thus am a fraud. Now, will someone please come up here? I really don’t care who.”

People murmured amongst themselves, until one person stepped forward.

“I will,” they said, and I asked them a little about themselves. They were John, a human male, who came alone, dressed as The Arrow from DC. He loved coming to Comic-Con, and was excited at the opportunity to be a part of what he thought of as a very real and planned demonstration. He came up on stage, and I appraised him.

“I loved your T.V. show,” I said, saying the first thing that popped into my head. I had never seen a single episode, but knew that it was a thing and hoped he wouldn’t question me.

He beamed at me, and said, “Thank you! You are a really good elf!”

“I try. Now,” I directed this at the crowd, “I shall prove, in front of a witness, that these blades are no joke.”

I quickly pulled the handles close to myself, phased them back into reality, and drove them into the boxes. They easily cut through them, for they were designed to cut through things much tougher than some boxes. I then rapidly whirled, phased my blades out of sync, swept the handles just in front of John’s face, and phased them back in sync with the world. I asked a stunned, slightly scared John to touch the blades, and he reported they were very sharp.

“Now, was that an optical illusion? I think not. I am also a great fighter, and master of small charms.” At this, I tossed up a charm I had created haphazardly and quickly earlier, which exploded into a sunburst of light. I had built it to be merely light and not also heat, a better model, I think, than the fireworks of Earth. I pulled another from my cloak, threw it to the ground, and watched as the image of a unicorn burst from it, dazzling the crowd as it dashed between them, an apparition and nothing more. After lapping the center, it returned to the charm, which I picked up. I asked John to return, and I thought about what I would do next.

I heard Robin tell me, “I may have found someone. Here, let me give you some sight.” Before I could protest, I was looking through one of Robin’s eyes and one of my own, which was quite disconcerting. I closed the eye connected to my own vision, and looked through Robin’s. He was looking at a wizard, quite a well done cosplay, perhaps too well done. He was staring attentively at me, but not the same way as the others. He wasn’t awed, or surprised, just kinda wide-eyed, like he couldn’t believe someone else was here. I nodded, prepared for vertigo, and opened my other eye.

After a moment, I noticed the position of the wizard. I noted him in my mind, noted where he was, and whispered to Robin to disconnect us. My vision was yanked back to my own perspective, which was nice, and I prepared my next bit. Everyone was still oohing and aahing at my magic, and so I decided to have a little fun. 

“You there!” my voice boomed, my finger pointed at the wizard. He panicked, and I quickly said, “No, please, come on up. I won’t hurt you, I just want another person for my next part. John was lovely, but you look like you know some real magic!” I laughed, and the audience laughed as well. He was pushed forward, and reluctantly got up on stage. 

“Now, what is your name?” I asked him, which was the polite way to go about things, I believed.

He glared at me, and responded, “I am Thuzhal, a wizard banished to this realm for many heinous acts.”

“Ooh, nice backstory. I like it! What kinds of acts?” I replied enthusiastically.

He sighed, and said, “Well, people don’t really ask me, so I say they’re heinous. I was just kinda messing around and apparently broke something important, and so I was magically exiled. I was trying to figure out how to get back in, looking through probably forbidden texts, when I tried a spell to return me to the place so I could undo my exile, but it instead sent me across dimensions and I ended up on this technology-ridden, climate-changed planet.”

I clapped, and people in the audience followed my example. “I like that! Gives you an objective, something dark, and just enough flare of mystery. Now, my good sir, I am also not from around here. I was transported here when I tried to figure out the true magical nature of my staff, here-” I gestured at the staff I had leaned against a wall, yes, obviously the one topped with the spider, “-and found myself in a cornfield in Illinois! Naturally, I was confused, as corn does not exist in my world, and I did not know that I had changed dimensions. Now, my man, I believe we can help each other! You know magic and magical items, and I have my staff! Now, for my demonstration…” I decided to try a little something. I pulled out my blades, and concentrated on making them visible, but slightly out of sync with Earth. The sword blades usually became invisible when phased, but I did my best to keep that from happening. 

The blades flickered, trying to change dimensions, but I did my best. Eventually, they came into full view, but I passed them gently through my hand to make sure they weren’t physical. I then whirled and, similarly to what I did with John, tried to swing it through the wizard’s neck. However, he was also armed, and so tried to block my attack, which obviously failed. My blade passed straight through him, and he retaliated, swinging a small dagger at me with ferocity and a wild look in his eyes. From the way he handled his blade, I could tell he wasn’t experienced. This was going to end quickly, luckily, I thought, and parried his frenzied swing. 

With a series of quick swipes, jabs, kicks, and punches, I disarmed the wizard and sent him to his knees. “Look, man, I didn’t want this to happen. I’m sorry for swinging at you, but it was part of the demonstration. You can get up and help me, or leave, alone, stuck here, probably never to return to your home. Which would you prefer?”

Thuzhal considered my words, and grudgingly got to his feet. I handed him his dagger, which appeared to be made of mithril, and smiled. 

“Good, now let’s get out of here. I’m not even supposed to be demonstrating anything here, I just got up on stage and nobody stopped me for whatever reason.” I deactivated my microphone-like charm, and told Robin, “Come on, let’s go.”

He ran into a door, and quickly joined me. I surveyed the crowd, which was full of whispers, no doubt about me and what I had just said. I jumped down, followed by Thuzhal and Robin, and we pushed past the crowd, out of the door, and ran a block before slowing to a walk. We returned to our motel, and I was happy we had managed to complete our goal for that day.

10

“I’m afraid we may have a problem,” Thuzhal said, walking into the bedroom.

“What kind of problem?” I asked, a little surprised by his sudden entrance and a little frustrated that he couldn’t immediately solve all of our problems.

He winced at the strength of my words, and responded, “Well, I know what kind of magic it uses, and I can partially control it. However, I cannot control the exact dimension. I can make it so that we don’t end up places we can’t survive, like in the vastness of space, or on a planet where the air is poisonous. We will have to travel many worlds until we either get lucky and end up in the right one, or find someone who can use your energy signatures to lock onto our universe. Will that work?”

I thought about it, looked over at Robin, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed, and looked back at Thuzhal. “Well, I guess we don’t really have a choice, so let’s go with that. Do we have any idea how long this will take?”

Thuzhal grinned, and said loudly, “Nope!”

I sighed, and replied, “Well, pack your bags. Might as well get right on down to it.”

*

We packed the gear we wanted to bring with us, which included some probably illegal items. It has been neglected to mention that these items included two assault rifles, lots of ammo, a couple grenades, a few other guns, including a sniper rifle and a pistol (of course we also had plenty of those ammos as well, and I intended to get a blacksmith or something to break them open and figure out how to make them and potentially augment them/the gun.). There were others, but I shouldn’t really mention them.

We gathered behind the motel, in the parking lot, after checking out and getting our stuff all ready. I readied myself for what was about to happen, planted the staff at arm’s length in front of me, and Robin and Thuzhal both grabbed it. After exchanging grim looks with both of them, I grabbed the spider, and it did the same thing as the previous time we used it, though the eyes seemed to glow brighter and the wind seemed stronger. I closed my eyes, and wondered what would happen on the other side, just before I lost consciousness.

11

When I returned to consciousness, I was confused. The sky was a pastel purple, with red dots swirling through it. It seemed like some kind of strange dream, and its colors were chaos. The ground was some kind of acid green, and there were portable toilets everywhere. They were in every shade, from green to blue to pink to yellow. I closed my eyes, as I felt a migraine coming on. I shaded my eyes and reopened them, looking at the ground for Robin and Thuzhal. I found Thuzhal covering his eyes, peeking through his fingers at the landscape, and Robin was still passed out on the ground. Oh, and, by the way, Thuzhal is a human. 

“This is a strange world you have brought us to, elf,” he told me, and I followed his gaze. I had originally thought that the toilets were just sitting there, but as I really looked at them, I saw that they were moving. There was even a small village, made of what I couldn’t say, as there wasn’t a tree or rock around. Even the ground itself was a deep green, and made of a substance I couldn’t make out. It was smooth, and I could push my hand through it, like a partial liquid. It was strange, as none of us were sinking into it, but it didn’t seem like good building material. The toilets weren’t walking, or splitting apart in any way, but just seemed to glide, all of which seemed very strange and impossible to me. When they came to a step, they seemed like they just jumped, but with no downward movement to create thrust upward, if that makes sense.

“Let’s… explore?” I said hesitantly, and Thuzhal strode toward the settlement. I followed him, after a moment’s consideration, and dragged Robin behind me. When we got closer, we could see that it was made of some kind of wood, and so I guessed that they had just taken down any trees in view. It seemed similar to a Wild West town, minus the dust everywhere, horses, natural colors, or people. I was quite unnerved, and moved close to one of the johns.

“Uh… hello?” I said (asked?) hesitantly. It’s door turned to me, and it seemed to make an annoyed, squishy sound from within it. 

“Do you guys have any wizards or magic folk at all?” I asked it. It moved toward me, making angry sounds from within it, and I backed away. “I don’t think it likes the sound of ‘wizard’.” It moved faster, squishing louder, and other toilets started coming over. I pulled Robin into a fireman’s carry on my back, and readied one of my blades. 

“We should get out of here, Thuzhal,” I told him, and he nodded, his eyes frantic. I turned and ran, but there were toilets everywhere.

“No time! We have to do it here!” I shouted, and he grabbed the staff. I shrugged Robin forward and held his hand around the pole, and grabbed the arachnid on top.

*

When I awoke, I simply lay there. I didn’t really want to open my eyes and find out where we had landed, but I suppose it would have to happen eventually. I slowly opened my eyes, and squinted at the bright light coming from the sun… suns? There were two shining orbs in the sky, one more yellow-y, and one more orange-y. It was very hot, and the ground was grainy. When I looked at the landscape, I saw that we were in a large desert of sand, and there were a couple houses in the distance. It looked like about midday, but I couldn’t be sure how long the day lasted, so it would be best to start moving. I got to my feet, and noticed that both Thuzhal and Robin were still passed out.

“Hey,” I said, shaking Robin. He stirred, and started moving. I moved over to Thuzhal, and patted his shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, time to get up sleepyhead,” I told Thuzhal, and his eyes snapped open, then quickly shut.

“Where are we, and why is it so bright?” Thuzhal said, and Robin nodded in agreement.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but there are some houses over there, we can ask them. I hope it goes better this time than last time.”

Robin looked confused. He held up a finger, and said, “Last time? Do you mean Earth?”

I was also confused for a second, before I remembered that Robin had been asleep the previous dimension.

“Well, we travelled dimensions, and you know how we always fall unconscious when we do that? Well, you were asleep while Thuzhal and I almost died from sentient Porta-Potties.”

This only served to bewilder him even more, and I described the events that had taken place in the strange, colorful dimension.

“Anyway,” I said, finishing up, “we should get moving. We aren’t going to kill ourselves, after all!”

With that lovely remark, we started walking toward the houses. It was extremely hot, hotter than Calimport, even hotter than California in summer. I didn’t know how people handled it, but then I thought, perhaps the people here are different and more adapted to this environment. 

After probably 15 minutes, we got to the houses. They were strange, quite small and kinda dome-like, circular, with person-height walls and a sloped, domed kinda roof. It was similarly colored as the sand, probably so that it could blend in, though the satellite dish looking thing on top of it kinda ruined the effect. It was silvery, and very much did not blend in.

“Sh-should we go in?” I asked tentatively, and Thuzhal marched forward, grinning. “Um, is that a yes?”

“I recognize this place!” he said in response, and knocked on the first door. I rushed toward him, but it was too late.

“HOW, exactly can you recognize this? You’ve never been here! You were directly transported to-” A thought rushed into my mind, causing me to stop in my tracks. “It’s like Faerûn, huh? Someone came from this world, or travelled here, and made a story or whatever based on this place?”

He slowly nodded, and simply replied, “Star Wars.”

*

The door opened, sliding to one side, and a man came out. I hadn’t seen a lot about Star Wars, but there were a lot of cosplayers at Comic-Con that I had recognized as probably being from this universe. The person that opened the door looked like Obi-Wan, except his hair was black. I blinked, for, while it was true I didn’t know much about Star Wars (already mentioned, but it makes this sentence flow better. Shut up, stupid), I knew that: 1. He wasn’t supposed to be on Tatooine until much later, when he looked old with white hair, or something, and 2. His hair was brown, not black. All of this was very confusing, especially once Qui Gon Jinn walked past, asking, “Who is it, honey?”

“U… u-um, I’m Alushtas, and these are Robin and Thuzhal,” I stammered, my eyes searching for answers I doubted I would easily find.

“Ah, hello! What lovely and strange names! What can I do for you?” he asked nicely, and I looked at my companions. 

“Uh, can we come in? I think we need to talk to you,” I said kinda randomly, for I was still very confused and needed to figure out what was happening.

He smiled, and ushered us in. “Honey, come meet our guests!” he said, and Qui Gon walked back in.

I looked back and forth between the two men, and I asked Obi-Wan, “Why does he keep calling you ‘honey’?”

They looked at each other and smiled, and Obi-Wan told me, “Well, we were dating for a while, but then this wonderful man approached me, what, probably almost a year and a half ago, and proposed to me! Of course, I said yes, and we’ve been living here ever since, happier than ever!” Qui Gon came over and hugged Obi-Wan deeply, and the two men sat down on a couch, holding hands. 

Thuzhal looked confused as well, though I had realized that this was not the normal Star Wars universe I knew, and the wizard asked, “Where is Luke? I thought he lived here.”

“Well, yes, he has, but once he married his spouse, they’ve been travelling the galaxy. Would you like some blue milk?”

“Uh, sure,” I said, and Obi-Wan waved his hand. A glass came over to me, as if by magic, and I sipped it warily. It was good, similar to Earth milk, but more coconut-y. 

“Soooo, who has Luke married, anyway?” I asked Qui Gon, taking a longer drink from my glass.

“Oh, he ran off with that hooligan, Han Solo, for a bit, but he came back eventually, and told me they were getting married. I was shocked, for it seemed sudden, but they were happy, and so we gave them our blessing,” he replied, and I, suddenly realizing something, asked another question (we really wanted to ask questions, I guess), “So what happened to Chewbacca?”

“Ah, good old Chew. They are going around the galaxy, exploring, happy by themselves. They liked Han, but they always felt less, you know? They are very introverted, and just like to explore. They find people difficult to understand, and they’ve told me that everyone just goes too quickly for them. Last I heard, they were going to Coruscant, which is nice.”

“Mhm. Anyway, you guys haven’t mastered inter-dimensional travel yet, have you?” I asked, realizing that, while cool, this place wasn’t really gonna help us.

“Unfortunately, that project was shut down because of its possible repercussions and side effects and all that,” he told me, “did you need something like that?”

I shrugged, and said, “Yeah, it would’ve been nice, but I think we might be able to manage. We should be going, though. Thank you, both of you, for everything.”

Qui Gon smiled at us, and asked, “Are you sure you want to leave? We’d be happy for you to stay.”

I sadly smiled back at him, and replied, “Yeah, we need to go.”

We said our goodbyes, and left. When we were out of sight of the house, it was probably about midnight.

“Well guys? Shall we?” I said, holding out the spider-adorned staff.

*

We travelled through many more dimensions, probably more than I could ever describe. As we travelled, and got used to dimension-hopping, we slept for less and less time, and eventually simply got tired, and then slightly dizzy.

Something that I have talked about, but not really explained, was that Earth was a Chaos realm. This means that both magic and technology work there, though there are other realms in which magic works and tech doesn’t, ones where tech works and magic doesn’t, and ones where neither work. However, this is a flawed perspective. It is one described by wizards of old in my world (yes, interdimensional travel isn’t completely unknown back home in Faerun), and their experiences in other realms. 

This is flawed for a couple reasons. It isn’t so simple as just ‘technology and magic, or one, or neither’. Magic can take many forms, and magic that works in one place doesn’t necessarily work in another. In the Star Wars-like world, there were Jedi that could manipulate objects using their mind and what they called the Force, which seems to be a type of magic. Meanwhile, my own magic could have been unstable or unusable, because it is a different world than mine. Similarly, magic could exist on Earth, though its inhabitants didn’t usually have it, leading to unpredictable results. I was lucky that only a couple of my charms failed or had issues, and not more of them. There were many other forms of magic, but to go into detail would take too long.

Technology is also a difficult thing to pin down. It’s basically just the application of knowledge for practical purposes, and so almost anything creature-made could be said to be technology. Again, some technology could function in some places, but not in others. Some steampunk worlds, for instance, couldn’t ‘fathom’ the existence of further innovation, like cars or computers. Other worlds were stuck in the Stone Age, and in some, not even bird’s nests could be made. I am not sure what would happen if one tried to make a bird’s nest in that world, but I had decided not to find out.

As we went along in our journey, I collected items. I wanted mementos of our travels, and hey, they might be useful in the future. Unfortunately, I wasn’t always able to pick things up, whether because of being chased by the inhabitants of the world or something else (and if you’re wondering if I took something from the Star Wars world, yes, I palmed a handle-looking thing with a button from a counter). This led to some fights, some running, and some pain. Still, I wanted certain items, like I think one was called a “Babel fish”, which allowed me to understand others, no matter what language they spoke. 

Something that I realized was that no matter where we went, some items were still able to be used. I eventually figured out that it was because they were dimensional items, which transcended some of the ordinary rules of the realms. We started with two - the staff itself, which is a good thing, because otherwise we would’ve ended up stranded on a random world. The other was my Vorpal blades, which was nice, because I liked them. However, the realm we received the third (and fourth and fifth?) dimensional item(s) was very… strange…

 *

We had come from a world of robots. There wasn’t a single human, elf, dog, orc, sentient species of any kind, or really any organic being that we found. Everything was automated, and seemed as though there had once been people, but then they had left, potentially leaving the robots there to keep things up until they returned. However, we realized that it was unlikely, if not impossible, that a machine could bring us home, rather than magic. Therefore, we left pretty quickly, though not before I got a small bracelet that had nanotech that could form a dagger in my hand in a millisecond, which could be quite useful.

When we arrived in the new realm, we found ourselves in a smallish room. There was a bed of flowers, yellow flowers, illuminated by a fairly dim light coming through a hole in the ceiling of the room. Actually, it seemed more like a cave, though we couldn’t really be completely sure. There was a hallway, or corridor, or whatever to our right. We went through it, and found a doorway.

We went through it, and walked through a system of rooms, some of which had puzzles, and traps, though none of them actually hurt us (well, except for Robin, who got a sprained ankle after falling through some leaves). We saw beings, some might call them monsters or abominations, which had very strange physical makeups. This wasn’t really uncommon for us to see, because of everywhere we had already been, but weird stuff is weird. One had a large eye as most of its body, and another looked similar to a frog. They ran from us, so we didn’t have to worry about fighting them, and when we got to the end of the rooms, we came to a small house.

We tentatively opened the door, and found the house deserted (or at least visibly so, and nobody came to the door to see who was there). There were stairs leading down to what I assumed was a basement right in front of us, a living room looking area to our left, and a hallway to our right. It seemed like an odd way to set up a house, but again, lots of places were quite queer (in both senses of the term). 

Anyway, we entered the living room. There was a table with chairs, bookshelves with books on them - “How to Cook Snails, Snail Basics, Meals with Snails?” -, and an armchair in front of a fireplace, fire included, which seemed like a fire hazard, but whatever. We didn’t find anyone, so we went through the door leading out of the room (not the one we entered).

We were in a kitchen, which seemed normal, except the stove didn’t work, there was white fur in the sink, and a pie on the counter. There was a faint smell of pie crust and cinnamon in the air, and I took a slice for later, in case I might want it (hey, I’m a thief, what would you expect, perfect morals?). We went back to the first room, and entered the hall.

There were three doors, two of which were bedrooms. We decided not to explore them, though one looked more like a child’s bedroom and one like an adult’s. The third was locked, however, and had a sign that read, ‘Room under Renovations’. Because there was no more of the house to explore, we went down the stairs to the basement.

There wasn’t really an actual basement, as far as we could tell. It was a long hallway, which, after walking the entirety of, showed us a doorway, similar to the one at the entrance, which we went through, as we didn’t want to walk back. We found ourselves in some kind of snowy, forest-y area, though, when we looked up to the sky, we could faintly see a cavern roof.

I’ll spare you the details, but basically, we went through this region, a very wet, cave-like region, and a very hot area. In the hot area, we came across a laboratory, which we chose to go into. It had a large video screen, seemingly inactive, though I couldn’t tell its use. As we continued walking through the building, we saw a cluttered desk, a bag of dog food(?), and a dark hole in the wall. When we got to the hole, the door to a bathroom hitherto unseen opened, and a tall lizard woman (?) came out. She looked quite surprised to see us, but hurried over nonetheless. 

“More humans? This is quite unusual… umm… hello? Who are you?” she asked hesitantly.

“I am Alushtas, and I am not a human… which I only tell you because I don’t know why. I am an elf, This is Robin, he’s a human, and Thuzhal, whose race I never actually found out, I think,” I responded.

“And I would prefer to keep it that way,” Thuzhal said, smiling and extending his hand toward the person. “And you are…?”

“Oh!” She blushed furiously. “M-my name is A-alphys, and I’m the-the royal scientist for King Asgore.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Do you guys have any, you know…, magic?” I asked Alphys. We seemed to do a lot of questioning in these worlds, and not much else.

“K-kinda, we have magical a-attacks and the like, and fire magic, and probably other kinds.”

“Oh.” I must’ve looked really sad, because she immediately responded with, “B-but that’s okay! Here, I can improve your phones! You… don’t… have phones? Um, I can get you phones!”

She rushed upstairs up an escalator, then quickly came down another closer to the entrance. She was holding three small objects, which I assumed was a phone, and hoped her word for phone meant the same thing it meant for me, because it could be useful. It seemed that way, so yay.

“Here! I have a phone for each of you! Y-yes, I had them l-laying around… anyway, they can text, access the internet wherever, access special Dimensional Boxes, defuse bombs, and activate a jetpack! Here, t-take them!”

We each took a phone, and I immediately checked out the Dimensional Boxes. They each had space for 8 items, seemingly no matter the size, which didn’t make sense, but whatever. There were 3 boxes, which was nice, so I didn’t have to worry about 24 items taking up space in my Bag of Holding. 

“Sweet, thank you!” I said, and she blushed again. “Oh, don’t worry, I just like helping people! S-speaking of which, there was this human that came through a bit ago. Have y-you seen them? I think Toriel is coming after them, and I’m a b-bit worried.”

Thuzhal and I exchanged looks as Robin looked between us. “No, we haven’t seen anybody except a couple dudes back at that purple place,” I told her, and her eyes widened.

“O-oh! You n-need to go… I’m s-sorry I can’t help more! Now, g-get out of here!”

She pushed us out of a back door, while I protested and tried to ask her about dimensional travelling. She didn’t listen to me, and locked the door after us.

“Well, now what? Do we go after the human? Do we go see the king? Do we leave? What do you dudes think?” I asked, looking at Robin and Thuzhal, whose backs were to the lab. 

“I think I can help!” a cheery voice said from behind. I whirled around, dagger forming in my hand. A little yellow flower had popped up from the ground, and it had a face which was smiling at us.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Thuzhal asked, suspicious of the small being.

“I’m Flowey! Flowey the flower! You were just talking to that overgrown lizard, huh? Don’t listen to her, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about!” the golden flower told us.

“Um, she seemed nice, while you were insulting her. Not really the way to play the ‘nice guy’ card,” Robin interjected.

Flowey gave a wide smile, and said, “Oh, sorry. We all insult her, ‘cause she’s senile and ignorant of the world. Even nice old King Asgore cracks jokes about her!”

By this point, I was very unsettled, but decided to humor Flowey. “So, you said you can help us. How?”

“Easy! The rules down here are simple. You k i l l, o r   y o u   b e   k i l l e d.” As he spoke, his face grew ugly, into a mixture of a smile and a look of utter hatred. He sent little white bullets at us, which we tried to dodge, but some still hit us. They really hurt, and it felt like my life force itself was being sapped. I swung my dagger at him, but he popped back into the ground and back up a bit further on.

“Hope you guys have fun! See ya later!” he said, smiling, and vanished into the ground.

“That… was horrible,” I said, and both of my companions nodded. 

“We should leave and never return.” Again, they nodded.

I pulled out the staff from my Bag, held it out, and we did our thing. However, as we began to flicker out of the strange, underground world, none of us noticed the edge of a flower root curling around the base of the staff.

wasn’t really sure how to say that Flowey was comin with the gang (obv without them wanting hiim to :P) with the exact wording, so I used ‘flower root’, but I am open to suggestions or changes if you think soething should change. It mgiht not, because I know hwere this is going and you don’t, but you coudl definitely help!

[october-rosehip]

30 Day OC Challenge: Anger

Yeah ok so day 4 of @luinquesse‘s challenge is supposed to be “fighting”, but this one made demands. @raymurata, you have created a monster and I CAN’T. STOP. WRITING.

This takes place during Blight year, at Broken Circle, which is, for Macsen Surana, the first stop.

The flames ruptured into a rushing orange cloud, thundering in Macsen's ears and searing orange across his eyes. The explosion blew him back to crash into the floor several feet from where he'd stood. And so, the rage abomination died with as much destructive force as it had lived.

Death Magic swirled around Macsen as it forever did, if he allowed it free rein. The last bit of life in the creature flowed into him. And with that, he knew the name of the mage who had succumbed to rage. I'm sorry, he thought. Go, Lilka, and find peace.

That knowledge was a fair price to pay for the fact that her last act in life was to restore him, even as the demon that took her made one last stab at taking him with. Macsen hauled himself to his feet. Lilka had been the last in the library, but the Circle held too many surprises so far.

“Everybody all right?” called Alistair. Leliana and Wynne murmured that they were. Behind a pile of debris that had been a bookcase, Macsen heard something else. A small gasp, or rustling cloth; he couldn't say. His ears still rang.

“Come out!” Macsen approached the tumbled stacks with caution. “I won't hurt you if you're still in control of yourself.”

“Macsen?! It's Iris. I'll throw my staff out first if you want. Pleasedon'thurtme.”

“All right. And I won't. Wynne's here, and Alistair the templar-”

“Ex templar.”

“Yes, I was getting there. And my new friend Leliana. Is it just you?”

A classroom staff, the kind used against training targets that never released a full-strength spell, rolled out across the floor with a soft clatter. Behind it, Iris slunk out as well, her strawberry blond hair in tangles, brown eyes wide, and her ear-points tipped low in an emotion even human-raised Macsen read easily. She held her hands folded in the way the templars directed them to when they caught trouble. Macsen's stomach plunged through the floor. They were doing the templar's work for them, and she knew it.

“It's just me,” she said. “I didn't have anything to do with this, I swear.”

“If you did, you wouldn't be using that staff. Anyway, I don't care. You're not a demon at the moment. Are you hurt?”

“No, I was in hiding when the abominations passed by. I think they planned an assault on Wynne's barrier.”

“Why didn't you ask me to let you through?” asked Wynne.

“I wasn't sure you'd let me. I was still working out what to do. I couldn't fight you, not with that.” The elven apprentice glowered at the practice weapon. “It took me so long to get here. I was working in the kitchen when the trouble started. I couldn't be seen. They've been... rounding everyone up.”

“Who has, the abominations?” Macsen couldn't picture it. That level of organization seemed beyond their single-minded abilities.

Iris shook her head and swallowed. “The senior enchanters... um. They're involved. Some are blood mages.” Her eyes darted to Wynne.

“Is Uldred among them, perhaps?” Wynne arched an eyebrow.

“Yes! How did you know?”

“It's a feeling I've had.” Wynne crossed her arms and glowered. “He was at Ostagar. He worked alongside Loghain, who abandoned the king and condemned us all to die in that ill-fated battle. When I made it back here to find people whispering about siding with Loghain, I'm sure you can imagine my thoughts on the matter.”

“Yeah. All... all right. That makes sense. Is the door open?”

“It is,” said Macsen. “You can stay with the others if you want, but if you're up for it, we could find you a real staff? You know what's going on better than I do, and we could really use the help.”

“I will if I can, but I have something I need to do first. Has... when was the last time  anyone went down to the dungeons?”

“No-one has. The door down has been locked all this time,” said Wynne.

Iris fell to her knees with a wail. “No! No... Maker, no...”

Macsen felt faint. He should have thought. Iris was as likely to be alone in a crisis as Macsen, himself. “Robin. Where is he?” But Macsen knew.

Iris gasped for breath before she could manage more words. “Irving found out he's my brother. They read our mail and put it all together. They took him to send away, but then all... this happened. I don't think they had a chance to leave. I have to... to know.”

Caged, hungry, dirty, cold. Didn't do anything WRONG. Fear demons whispering that you're abandoned, that you'll die down here. You believe it's true. What if you're forgotten? Or “forgotten”, by someone skipping the formality of an execution. What if. What if. What if.

The thought took Macsen no longer than a breath. He grabbed Leliana's arm and bolted back the way they had come.

“How long?” begged Macsen. “Oh, Falon'din, how long?”

Iris ran right behind him. “They took him just before all this started, so just over two weeks? I- I think?”

Macsen found himself whispering a prayer. They halted before the heavy door into the cellars. “Leliana, get us in there.”

She nodded and set to work. “It's a challenging one, but I'll get it.” Her brow wrinkled and her lips set into a line.

Macsen mentally smacked himself. He pulled out the skeleton key Phelan had given him as a parting gift, to keep him safe. He glanced around the wide, bright area and found Wynne  checking in with Petra, thank goodness. “Wait,”Macsen whispered. He shifted to put his body between Leliana and Wynne. He slipped her the key. “Try that. Keep it hidden.”

It worked. Leliana, bless her, pretended to struggle with the lock for a few moments more before straightening up with a satisfied smirk.

Macsen grabbed her arm again and they rushed down the stairs, Iris right behind them. The dungeons were carved out of a darker layer of stone than most of the circle, and only dim, blue, glowlights lit the way. Macsen summoned his faintly purple wisp, which wasn't as bright as some, but helped them see the steps at least a little more clearly.

“I don't know if they've repaired the sentinels,” Macsen said. “But-”

“No,” panted Iris. “Ever since they lost Beatrice, enchantments are taking forever. Nisha told me they chained him to make up for sniff the lack of security. He didn't DO ANYTHING!”

“You've seen Nisha?!”

“Not since...”

“Oh.” Macsen would not dwell on the possibilities now.

They ran on, finding no sentinels. Macsen's feet knew the way to the cages. They passed empty cells on the way, the nicer ones, with books and furniture, for respectable prisoners, Macsen reflected bitterly. Although, if Robin truly hadn't stood accused of anything but a lie of omission, then maybe... “Do you think they put him in here and he escaped already?” Macsen allowed himself to ask it, but didn't really believe it.

“Those aren't for elves.”

Macsen knew they weren't but it had felt right to ask. Beside him, Leliana sang the Chant out of order, each a verse about mercy and solace. He never knew where she found the breath at times like this. They kept running.

Heavy footfalls thundered up behind them. Alistair caught up with them, breathing heavily, as well. “Why... is this place... so huge. I asked... Wynne... to stay with children. Keep them from wandering down. Given what we might find.”

“How did you?” Macsen felt a surge of warm gratitude for his fellow Warden.

“Used templar voice.”

“Eugh.”

“Yeah. I feel icky.”

“Thanks though.”

Macsen ducked into one of the store rooms to grab a jar of cider and a random armload of food. They ran into nothing at all, not even a cat.

At last, they arrived.

A skinny heap of rags lay slumped against the bars of one of the cages. Alistair whispered “Oh, Maker,” as Iris leaped ahead of him. Leliana pushed past them all and tried Macsen's key in the lock. The hinges screeched and shards of metal fell on the floor as the door fell open.

“He's alive,” Leliana observed. She knelt beside him and removed the one manacle Robin still wore. It was indeed him, his black hair matted with neglect and his cheeks gone hollow. Alive still, somehow, and having wasted no time.

The other manacle and the chain that had affixed the cuffs to a ring in the floor lay discarded and cracked. The hinges showed scarring as well. Robin had come so close.

Macsen shook himself out of his thoughts and joined Leliana in waking the man. It didn't take long. He blinked at them all, and stared openly at Leliana. Macsen understood. Demons didn't usually do the unfamiliar.

Macsen looked at the things he'd grabbed. Cider was not going to do any good, or cheese. He found the water jar, still damp. Robin had been summoning drinking water, then. Macsen admired his determination and reserves. Macsen summoned water himself, heated it, and mixed rolled oats into it. He threw in a few raisins as well and crumbled in a travel cake. Robin could probably use the sugar and fat. He also had some sausage and a jar of herring, but those could wait. Robin needed a decent soup. Thin, weird, porridge would have to do.

Leliana helped Robin hold a waterskin. Iris wept openly. Alistair shuffled awkwardly and pulled something out of his pocket. “Will this help?” he asked as he handed it over to Leliana.

She set the waterskin down carefully and opened the small jar. “Oh yes, very much so! Thank you!”

Robin's eyes widened and he tried to say something. His voice came out as a croak.

“Don't try to talk yet, just take a few bites.”

“What is that?” Macsen asked.

“Apple butter.” Alistair looked pained. “I got it in Lothering. It was expensive but if we were headed to the Circle, well, you never know how many mages you might have to bribe, you know?”

“Oh.” Macsen felt glad but conflicted. So much he would have done for this treasure, and Alistair had judged him and found him lacking for that very fact. Yet, Alistair had come prepared to use the Market of Trades, even so.

Macsen's insult-to-food everywhere finished cooking enough and he cooled it down a bit. “I'm sorry, this is going to be a lot like late winter food, but it'll give you your energy back. Iris, when did you last eat?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Then, why don't you share this? He can't eat it all yet, anyway. And there are other foods. You know yourselves best.” He handed over the porridge jar and took Aistair's arm as he headed into the hallway. Macsen remembered too well how overwhelming people were after the forced solitude.

Alistair gaped at the scattered cages, most of which didn't share walls or even lines of sight around unnecessary corners. Piles of bedding molded in the damp. “I- I thought you were being dramatic about the dungeon. You've stayed down here?”

“Three times. For an afternoon, a week, and a month. It could have been worse. That last time, I had someone sneaking down to smuggle me things like blankets and tea.”

Alistair's eyes drifted upward to a chained collar dangling from the ceiling. “I can't believe it. Is it... very hard to see this?”

It was. Macsen felt a fist around his heart. It felt like the sentinels would emerge anyway, roaring their fury at him, for being out of place. It felt like Greagoir would come stomping down the stairs to yell at them for breaking the rules, and shut them in.

Alistair stared at him with increasing worry.

Macsen swallowed, and softly spoke. “You never forget. You're never the same. I'm not well in a way that's different from how I was before. It breaks something inside you, but they do it all the time. The templars don't think it's any big deal, or so they say. I'm never not angry about it. Never.”

Alistair chuckled, but with a wince. “You know, I got locked in a dog cage once. For one day. Guess I'll stop complaining about that.”

They fell silent. After a while, they heard voices behind them, pitched more normally. Macsen headed back to his friends to find Robin sitting upright and looking better, if like he could sleep for a week.

“Are you able to talk about what happened?” Macsen asked him.

He nodded. “They usually sent Nisha down with meals. The last time I saw her, she didn't have the keys. She shoved loaves of bread, some cheese, and carrots through the bars and said something was wrong. She didn't know what. She said she'd try to find out and would come back if she could. I tried to make the food last, and heated and froze the chains and then the hinges. What could they do to me that they weren't already planning? I had to try. I am so tired. I'd be worse than that if a tranquil hadn't thought to take care of me.”

“Thank the Maker for her,” said Iris. “I never thought I'd say that.”

Robin sighed with all the heaviness possible in one person's soul. “I did it backwards. I shouldn't have wasted time on the cuffs and just broke the ring, but I wanted them gone so badly.”

“I know what you mean,” growled Macsen. “Anyway, it's bad up there. Uldred's a blood mage and had a conspiracy going, I guess.”

Robin made a face at him. “Man, everybody knew that but you and Irving.”

“All right. Irving taught me about politics and court intrigue and I missed my very first practical lesson. I can accept this. I have one probably irrelevant question though. You're siblings? How didn't anyone know all this time?”

“I was betrothed young. I moved to my wife's alienage. When they picked Iris and I up from different cities, nobody even checked. Irving pieced the truth together from our mail. The rules say they had to separate us. I'd be gone already, but with the battle, they couldn't spare the templars to escort me.”

“What do you both want to do?”

“Go home, collect my wife, son, and dog, and run like blazes.” He turned to Iris. “You?”

“Sounds good. Maybe we could find a farm to hire on with somewhere. Nisha'd love the irony. Do you think the Dalish would take us?”

“I've no idea,” said Macsen. He had no real idea if the Dalish would take him after so long. “But if you're traveling, there's a storage room full of staves and old gear in the third hall to the right. I'll be right back.”

Macsen ran. He remembered the way. He would always remember the way. He should have done this then.

He arrived at the phylactery chamber. His fury raged anew, brighter and hotter as he ran. He stared once more at all the tiny little vials, each one neatly labeled, ready to hunt them all down one by one if they didn't sit here and die like they were supposed to. A Circle was annulled every fifty years or so. Every mage knew they'd live to see it if they were lucky enough to live so long. Every mage hoped the Circle that fell wouldn't be their own.

Macsen took a series of calming breaths as Mamae had taught him. He read the names. Amelie of Dragon's Peak. Ossian Weaver. Eadric...

And then he saw something he didn't expect.

Silvana Amell.

They'd never even bothered to get rid of it after it could be of no possible use any longer. Macsen let out a startled sob. She'd voluntarily trusted herself to the Circle. She'd believed in the Maker and also in her own right to exist. She could have been such a force for good within the system that Macsen hated, but it betrayed her. They'd thrown her away, but not her blood. He couldn't leave... her... here.

Macsen cradled the tiny crystal to his chest and wept. They had no time for this. He needed to be racing to save people, fighting. He had no time for nursing this old grief. His grief came for him, anyway. He'd watched so many people come to harm. Women, mostly. He'd be dead or tranquil himself, by now, if Irving hadn't thought him brilliant. Irving had spared half a thought for Silvie, and no thought at all for Nisha, who, even now, spared a thought for everyone.

Macsen rubbed the tears away. Nothing was right, or fair, or safe. He wondered if... yes, there it was. Lazy bastards. Nisha's phylactery lay among the others. Then again, maybe it wasn't an oversight. Irving still raged about Beatrice and might not want another tranquil “being stolen.” He tucked the crystals containing the essence of his friends into a pouch. He hid it in an inside pocket, safer than their owners ever were.

Macsen stood, regarded the chamber one last time.

Macsen freed his rage.

He smashed, and cast. Crystal shards sparkled in magical flames. Shelving creaked and crashed to the floor. Macsen howled. His cry of fury gave way to hysterical laughter. Everything around him exploded. In the end, only charred kindling and sparkling dust remained. It looked like a creature of the fade had vented itself against the contents of the room, and in a way, Macsen supposed that was a little bit true.

Whoever else they found alive, Macsen could give them this one gift: a good head start.

Macsen ran back to his friends, smashing a few more things here and there along the way. He felt his face settle into a satisfied grin.

“Something was loose down here,” he told the others. “It destroyed the phylactery chamber. What a bother for the templars.”

Leliana caught up with his mind immediately. “Macsen! You can't just-”

“I. Did. Just.” He snarled.

“But those exist for a reason!”

“It's an evil reason!”

“They'll just make new ones, anyway.”

“Of those they can, probably. They won't know who turned. They won't know who ran. They won't have a second chance to kill anyone else here through sheer fucking neglect.”

Alistair shifted uncomfortably. “It's... it's done, Leliana. They left everyone in here to face demons themselves, they plan to kill everyone. Idunno. Can you really blame him?”

Leliana shook her head. “It is done, I suppose. I do not like it. I can see why you felt the need to..” Her voice trailed off.

Macsen would have to deal with this later. He wasn't sure what to say.

Iris knew what to say. “Ma'am, with all due respect, you haven't seen anything yet. I think once you do, you might feel differently about whether we should stay in our proper, Maker-approved place.”

Robin looked at his sister with alarm. Now that Macsen knew of their relationship, he wondered how he'd missed it, even if they looked so little alike. But then again, his own brother was a shemlen.

“Do you wnt to help?” Robin asked.

“I do. The Circle is overrun with demons, I-I mean more than usual. But after, I think we should enact our plan.”

“You were always going to escape,” said Macsen. “I was too, but knew I only had one chance.”

“Just so,” said Iris.

“Aneirin,” added Robin, unnecessarily.

The name and the doom it spelled hung in the air for a silent moment. Macsen felt a flicker of old anger about that unfairness, as well. Shems, they brought back alive.

Macsen breathed a cleansing sigh. They were on their own. Whatever they found up there, the templars wouldn't be around to complicate matters. They'd sort this out as well as they could, and give everyone as much of a chance as they could ever have had. He straightened his shoulders, cleared his mind, and settled his soul as much as possible.

“Let's go.”

[shellheadtmark2]

𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐕, 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐌: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

So it was settled. The Chimer army marched at night, and swarmed into the Dwemer camp. They were relying on Chimarvamidium to lead the first wave, but it malfunctioned and began attacking the Chimer's own troops. Added to that, the Dwemer were fully armored, well-rested, and eager for battle. The surprise was turned, and most of the high-ranking Chimer, including Karenithil Barif the Beast, were captured.

Though they were too proud to ask, Sthovin explained to them that he had been warned of their attack by a Calling by one of his men.

“What man of yours is in our camp?” sneered Barif.

Chimarvamidium, standing erect by the side of the captured, removed its head. Within its metal body was Jnaggo, the armorer.

“A Dwemer child of eight can create a golem,” he explained. “But only a truly great warrior and armorer can pretend to be one.”

- Chimarvamidium

the dwemer, a race of elves also called dwarves (though they were of average size in comparison to the other races of tamriel), were known as master craftsmen; an atheistic race that lived in gleaming cities of grey stone and bronzed metal, among their steam-driven machines and amuniculi.  blinders of the falmer, associates of dragons before the dragon war, half at war with the chimer and half in an uneasy alliance with them.  part of their belief system involved the idea that the world dreamed, and to wake up would return them to their rightful place among aetherium and worked to those ends, building a brass god named numidium.  it’s said their chief tonal architect, kagrenac, used specialized tools - keening and sunder, with the use of wraithguard to safeguard - on the heart of lorkhan, and all once the entire race disappeared.

well.  almost the entire race.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎

name:  tnathas birthsign:  the thief | 29 evening star race:  dwemer(i) (duuma in the dwemer language) occupation:  former tonal architect | currently traveling adventurer specializing in dwemer ruins birthplace:  kagrenzel, in the velothi mountains current residence:  clockwork castle, located in the velothi mountains specialization:  spellsword/storm mage | blacksmithing | enchanting | destruction and conjuration magic factions:  college of winterhold | bards college | avengers | dawnguard

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋

tnathas is on the tall end of the spectrum for dwemer, standing six feet, one inch in his bare feet, with a lean, angular frame.  while it’s almost easy to believe he’s just a strange looking altmer, his ears and eyes are what give him away as something else, his ears being more dunmer in shape and size (they’re large, pointy, and are angled away from his head in a more dunmer manner, and he [like most dwemer] wears golden hoops up their length).  his eyes are also more dunmer in their shape and coloration, being blue on black sclera.  he wears his hair short, and his beard entirely unlike the current fashions (or the past ones), just long enough to have three dwemeri beads braided into it.  in a home environment, where he’s safe and feels comfortable, he trends back to dwemeri styles of robes, layers of cloth, open sandals, and runs around barefaced.  otherwise he typically rarely takes his helmet off in public, because the fewer people that see both how odd he looks compared to current elves or that he’s an elf at all, the better.

while a spellsword, he suffers the curse laid upon any dwemer that might have survived the cataclysm by the daedric prince azura, in that his ability to use magic does not regenerate over time.  as such, he has to keep a healthy supply of magicka potions nearby, or rely on the strength of his sword arm alone.  like all dwemer, he possesses the ability of the calling - a telepathic link between all dwemer - though these days...it’s mostly silent.  and because of dwemer innovation in both magic and machinery, he can and has been known to toy with magic that disrupts time for very short durations.  like the skaal and their listening and the former yokudan sword-singers, he’s also well versed in dwemer tonal magic.

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

a badly behaved dwemer in his youth, tnathas often thumbed his nose at convention and responsibility and instead of settling into his expected position as a tonal architect, he took what can be considered an elven gap year and instead traveled across tamriel to see what he could see, staying above ground more than below.  in this way, his experiences have shaped him into something that is not the typical dwemer, as he is less cold, less calculating, and in many ways, less logic driven and more warm and sympathetic.  

however, with the rumblings between those that did and did not agree with what kagrenac wished to do with numidium and the heart of lorkhan, tnathas finally returned home to dwemer life and settled in as a tonal architect, as the war of the first council decided to really get rolling between everyone and their cousins, from dwemer to chimer to nords to nedes.  he ended up, when it seemed that kagrenac was really going to carry out his insane plan to use his tools on the heart of lorkhan, closing himself up in a private lab in a small pocket carved from oblivion, and got to work.  when he emerged again, having no idea of the passage of time on nirn, his entire race was gone, the nords were at war again, this time with some nebulous empire, and he realized very quickly that displaying what he really was would bring nothing but trouble, and let people assume he was altmer or dunmer or an exceptionally large bosmer.  these days he’s simply trying to find his place in the world, while coming to grips with the things he’d been aware had been happening in the dwemer cities, and struggling with the choice of searching for his people - if they still exist - or letting those ghosts lie uneasy in their graves.

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒

+ he’s not a man, he’s a mer, and yes, that’s actually an important distinction.  but if you never see him without the helmet he’ll let you assume what you want. + he can enter dwemer ruins and not be attacked by the amuniculi inside.  your safest way to traverse them is with him, unless you count the falmer.  the falmer will attack. + the house he calls home is full of all sorts of repaired and reprogrammed automatons.  the clanking is unbelievable. + he knows the divines and the daedra are real, he just doesn’t care.  believe what you want, but leave him out of it.  he’s got SCIENCE! to do.  you won’t catch him making deals with daedra or wearing an amulet of mara. + even in private conversation with someone that knows what he is, he’ll often correct himself if he uses old names for things.  it’s all about moving into the future, for one, because he’s not going to dwell in the past, but also because he’s already odd enough without calling something by a name that hasn’t been used in four thousand years. + the house contains...well.  two other dwemer.  of a sort.  they’re called the gilded and they’re automatons built from the souls and gilded bones of dwemer who were ill and dying.  lamashtu and lahar are their names and they act as caretakers for the house.  those who know the whole story will have to deal with the fact that tnathas mostly talks to either of them in dwemeris.  old habits and all that. + there’s also an enormous dwemer city under the house full of gilded that are...broken.  tnathas sees himself as their caretaker, because violent and confused or not, those are still his people and he has a responsibility to them. + his work/life balance is absolutely horrid and he will have to be dragged out of the workroom and study for things like sleep and food. + he’s decided calcelmo is his worst mortal enemy and lives to troll him.  calcelmo has no idea he’s even dwemeri, tnathas just thinks he’s kind of a dick. + his home is open to those he becomes close to and trust, and eventually the idea will take root of a new kind of guild - something like the companions - but to fight for the people who can’t fight for themselves, and not expecting payment in return.  if you guessed the avengers, here’s your gold star.

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

+ clockwork castle + the timelost dwemer - a deep elf race

[maiden-of-wolves]

Ariel & Fox - Persistance

“Meeting” Scene

Part 1

More writing with Fox & Ariel. This time Ariel screws up and gets (figuratively) scalped.

“I’d cite cleverness for finding you, but this one would protest regardless,” Fox said as he came up behind Ariel. He had a basket in hand with a kitten poking its head out. It meowed loudly when she looked at it.

Ariel scrambled, usually not so off in her own mind that she could hear anyone approaching, and took out her earbud, stuffing the phone into her bag after clicking power button. She was still in a fairly good mood, so despite her previous irritation with him she chuckled. Plus, he’d brought a kitten, and how could she be mad at that?

She carefully picked it up from the basket and sat it down on her lap. As her legs were crossed that gave the little cat a lot of room to wander. Instead, after a few long strokes along its back, it found a perfect place to lie down: the center of her lap. She couldn’t blame it, that’d certainly be the warmest place to go, but it was a little awkward. Ariel took to gently petting around its chin and by its ears, which earned her pleased purrs. The sound made her smile, though the gesture only moved her lips. True teeth smiles were rare.

“So,” she finally said, glancing over at Fox for the first time since he offered the kitten. “Is this a check up? Or just an investigation to sate your curiosity?” A tiny part of her felt a bit disheartened that if she told him everything, he’d just leave. The rest thought it a brilliant idea. For the time being, she just waited for him to answer.

“Some of both. With the Breach, there is a great deal of ambient magic that may have adverse effects on you.” He planted the butt of his staff in the packed snow and looked out over the ridge. “I must admit it’s a bit of a damper to realize you’re not important enough to warrant inclusion in prophetic visions.”

“Okay, you’ve lost me already,” Ariel admitted, quirking a brow as she looked up at him. “You mean what I know about this place?” That confusion partially rectified, she turned her gaze to watch the goings on in camp again, idly petting the kitten’s head. “Look, it’s… weird. I doubt I could explain it to you even if I tried. And they’re not ‘prophetic visions’. Stuff like that doesn’t happen at home. Mages don’t exist and ‘magic’ is just sleight of hand.”

Fox stood silently, then turn his head towards her. “Perhaps it would be easier if you explained the situation as you understand it, as I can’t see any way knowing people you’ve never met before isn’t magic. Well, I’m assuming it’s not letters and portraits.”

At that, Ariel actually laughed, the movement startling the kitten enough for it to give a tiny murrp chirp. “Well, in a way it kind of is,” she admitted, carefully stroking the kitten a few times to help it settle down.. This was going to be a hell of a task; explaining video games to a person that’s never seen a pictograph? “It’s an illustrated story. Interactive, as well. You can talk to everyone and make decisions that affect their lives, as well as Thedas. It’s supposed to be just a story, a complete fiction…” she paused, gesturing widely to the area. “And yet, here I am.”

“Hmm.” Fox turned to look back over the ridge and leaned into his staff. “So someone else was a prophet and made this story to tell their prophecy and you, after reading it, arrived here to tell it.”

Ariel watched him with increasing skepticism and bewilderment. What can I possibly say to get him off this prophecy kick?? “It’s not a prophecy. I’m not a ‘chosen one’ don’t start with that shit,” she finally managed. She tried again to explain. “It’s… imagine that you got dropped into the world of Swords and Shields. It’s like that, but with no magic and tech you wouldn’t know the first thing to do with.”

“It wouldn’t make me the chosen one, no, but it would make me the prophet for the Chosen One. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that novel, so I can’t make a proper analogy, but simply because it is a fiction to you does not mean our cuts do not bleed.” He paused. “Nor yours, it would seem.”

So apparently not everyone in Thedas had read Master Tethras’s novels. Good to know. Though it hadn’t helped her in the current situation. “Oh, believe you me, I learned that real quick…” she quipped back. The idea that she seemed callous to their plight came into her head and she quickly added, “I’ve been making sure to offer whatever I know when Venna needs help. I... she wants me to be a part of the war table, but the rest of the advisors are against it. I don’t know how I feel about it, honestly, so I won’t push for it. She just comes and talks to me when she can’t make a decision.”

“Why not simply tell her what she will choose?” Fox asked.

“Because I don’t know that,” Ariel answered. “That was who you played. The character you were interacting with Thedas through. First it was the Hero of Ferelden, then the Champion of Kirkwall, and finally the Herald. You want to call anyone the ‘chosen one’, it’s Venna. I can just tell her what the general effects of her actions will be in the future and she can weigh which ones she wants to pursue based on that.”

Fox’s lips moved as he muttered silently. “Are you saying that this prophecy of yours accounted for different choices by these heroes?”

“It’s not a prophecy…” Ariel grumbled.

“If it has given you knowledge of the possible future, how is it not a prophecy?”

“It’s an interactive story,” she sighed. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter to you all. It’s your future. But, to answer your earlier question— yes. It does. The Warden could come from several different backgrounds, as can the Herald. That alone has a small bearing on the plot and how you interact with the world. Elves have to work much harder to garner respect; a kossith would be even less respected. Dwarves are just kind of seen as oddities, despite there being a ton on the surface now.” She paused, pursing her lips as she weighed the point of actually continuing the examples. In the end, she just shrugged and barrelled forward. “The Warden could have died if they hadn’t assisted Morrigan in a ritual to keep them from being destroyed by the escaping Archdemon’s soul as they killed it. The Champion could have sided with the Templars and culled the entire Kirkwall circle, becoming a rallying cry for Templar aggression. The Herald can chose to bring the broken Templar order to heel and rebuild it properly under the Inquisition or ally with the ‘free’ mages in Redcliffe and have a hand in creating the College of Enchanters, which attempts to rival the circles as a place for mages to study.” She looked over at him with a tired chuckle. “Lots of things can change.”

“I would rather you stopped thinking of our lives as a fiction or a story, simply because it is easier for you.” Fox’s tone had none of the warmth and lightness it usually did. “How the prophecy was presented to you doesn’t matter in the scheme of things. We are real. That is what matters.”

“Oh,” was the only thing that Ariel could think to say for a moment. Oops, being the main thing that echoed in her brain. Well, here you are again, royally fucking shit up. At least apologize! Came the internal chastisement. “Right. I’m sorry. I didn’t… it wasn’t meant to … make it seem like I didn’t care. I do. I’m not some heartless bitch.” She chuckled again, though the sound was mirthless and blinked away the sheen in her eyes that had developed from the panic. “Sorry…” she murmured again, though apparently this time to the kitten as she returned her attention to it.

He didn’t acknowledge her apology. “I’ve heard Rutherford speak quite a bit about recruiting the Templars. Does that lead to a more favorable outcome, then?”

“It’s up to interpretation,” Ariel admitted, taking a few heavy breaths as she continued to try and calm herself. In the back of her mind she was running over how furious she’d probably be if she was talked about like a fictional character when she was standing right there. The idea of Fox being that mad at her made her want to quake in trepidation. The only thing keeping her grounded and not in tears was the kitten in her lap. It wouldn’t like having a salt water bath. “But I think so. And when Venna has asked me, I encourage her to go to the Templars. But not to ally with them. Their leadership is in shambles. They need a place to rebuild and be under watchful eyes. And Cullen is—” she cut herself off, brows furrowing as she weighed the reasons to tell him the full reason why it would probably be particularly helpful with them. Eventually, she shook her head. “He is doing something different. And they could all benefit from the change.”

“And your prophecy told you nothing of me, is that correct?” Fox asked, still not looking at her.

“Nothing,” she answered quickly, suddenly getting the feeling that her habit of talking too much might be dangerous.

“Did it tell you what became of those children from these Southern Circles? Because I can assure you, Redcliffe Castle is not home to even most of them.”

Ariel swallowed and slowly shook her head even though he probably wasn’t going to see the latter. “No, it didn’t even really talk about that,” she replied. After a moment, she looked over at him, concern finally overtaking her panic enough to show on her face. “Do you know something about them? Venna could help. If you just tell her. Haven could keep them safe.” In the back of her mind she knew that was partially a lie, considering they were going to be attacked, but in the event there’s no way that they wouldn’t have put the children first in the tunnel during the escape. The journey to Skyhold would be hard, but they could make it and they’d be safe there.

“Haven is completely indefensible. A tactical nightmare. It is no fortress and Commander Rutherford would know better if he were suited for any kind of command and you’re mad if you think I’d bring any child back into the view of a Templar, former or conscripted by Inquisition.” Lightning magic crackled across his shoulders before reaching his staff and fizzling out on the enchantments.

Okay. Back to panic. She held on to her outward veneer just enough to not cry. As an adult, one couldn’t do that just to destress. Especially not in a place as dangerous as Thedas and a furious mage standing next to her. She took several long, slow breaths and gently pulled the kitten closer to her just in case a stray bolt hit them it would hit her instead. “The Inquisition will have a fortress,” she said slowly. “Skyhold.” She purposefully left the last portion unanswered. She’d rather not have to deal with absorbing any more magic than necessary and certainly didn’t want to find out how much more powerful Fox was than Venna.

“It may be that the College of Enchanters as they call themselves cannot help the Herald seal the Breach, but I hardly feel favorable to them when they left scores of children twice orphaned. I came South to help. I did not expect the need to be so dire.” He shook his head and his shoulders relaxed. “It would be best if you told me who the Inquisition needs alive. I may not be able to stay my hand, otherwise.”

“Well, Commander Rutherford would be a good start to that list,” Ariel offered, offering a breathless chuckle as she finally felt the hairs at the back of her neck settle as he stopped interacting with his magic. “Venna is really the only one that has to be alive, honestly. She has the anchor and as far as I’ve ever seen one needs to be alive to use it. To actually deal with the one that ripped the veil open she’ll need just about anyone she can get. That’s not to say you won’t have plenty of people to steer your rage towards. The Inquisition will have many, many enemies. I’d just… like to see you live long enough to really help those kids.”

Fox chuckled, but it wasn’t cold and damning; he was back to his casual warmth. “I am much hardier than you would expect. Don’t worry. I only enter battles I plan to win.”

“You’ll find that I worry about people I care about,” Ariel said, not realizing what she said until it had already passed her lips. She quickly scrambled to correct herself.“I mean, I worry. It’s just something I do.” She offered a nervous laugh and stood up, pulling up the kitten with her and placing it on his shoulder. “I probably don’t deserve whatever else you brought me, so I’ll… I should go.” A tiny smile was all she could produce before turning around and grasping her back, making a quick check over it to be sure everything was inside and the zippers were pulled. “Thanks for the kitten time,” she said before heading off down the rocks. She needed to be alone. Time to test the wards that Solas had begrudgingly given her. She’d had more than enough of dealing with any people for the day. At least she wasn’t sick on top of it.

[buttsonthebeach]

ok ok ok. this would not be canon. prompt: ashara and lucius are invited to to a fancy council thingie to talk about something important, but it is assumed that they are still together. they have to pretend to be in a relationship for it to go smoothly. UST and HEA would be nicest!

ANON. ANON. I know it has been forever but can I tell you how happy this ask made me?? I love Ashara and Lucius so much. So so much. It adds 10 days to my life every time I find out that someone else loves them.

Have some shameless, fluffy fluff, and I’m sorry for the wait :) I am always down for more SFW or NSFW prompts for these guys!

Ashara’s dresses are from this post - her first dress is the bottom right picture, and her second is the one above it (far right of the second to last row).

Pairing: Ashara Lavellan x Lucius Talvas

Rating: Teen for some sensuality, but absolutely nothing beyond that

Note: In an AU of Reckoning, Ashara and Lucius meet again at a Council on Arcane Affairs in a time when prejudice against elves is running high, and must confront the end of their relationship at last.

************

1.

When Lucius saw Ashara on the first night the International Council on Arcane Affairs, hosted in Cumberland, he couldn’t breathe. Mostly that was because of the absolute, undiluted rage in her face as she argued with one of the guards hired for the event. He so rarely saw her angry. But also it was also because of her stunning gown - thin gauzy blue folds draping into a small train on the floor, a high waist, a deep V neckline and thin straps made of tiny blue roses, with more scattered throughout the skirts. Her curls were piled on her head in an intricate hairstyle studded with more of the roses. She was stunning. That was why he could not breathe.And because he had not seen her at all in the year since their relationship ended, and yet he still knew the exact place of each freckle on her cheeks.“This is absolutely preposterous,” Ashara was saying as he approached. “I have an invitation to this conference. Of course it includes an invitation to this dance. Aren’t there dances every night this week?”“I’m afraid this event simply isn’t suited for mages of your - kind. Not after what happened in Clermont.”

Ashara’s face, if at all possible, grew more angry. Lucius felt that anger spill over into him. The murky incident in Clermont - blood magic, elven immigrants, illegal Orlesian templars, intrigue at court - had been the fixation of too many people in the last weeks. To think Ashara could have been involved - she had almost worked for Vir'anor, the group involved in the incident, before Enasan’s top university offered her a coveted position - or to generalize what happened there to all elves… it was ridiculous. No one deserved this treatment.What Lucius did next, he did without thinking.He walked up to them, and put his hand on the small of Ashara’s back, the same way he had done a hundred times in the year that they were lovers.“There you are, amata. I know Magister Tilani will be thrilled to see you tonight. I hope these men have not kept you waiting.”Lucius was not sure whose eyes were wider - the guards’, or Ashara’s. Those blue, blue eyes. She smelled like crystal grace, and the fabric of her dress was soft and thin and he could feel her warmth and suddenly the last year, the loneliness, the million ways he questioned his decision to leave her, evaporated.“Oh,” Ashara said. “Emma lath. I thought I could get in without you, but apparently these men do not realize that we are both honored guests tonight in our own right.”“Indeed. We can always speak to Magister Pavus about this, though. Doesn’t he arrive soon?”“That will not be necessary,” the guard said quickly. Then, more grudgingly: “Enjoy your evening.”He kept his hand on Ashara’s back as they passed into an antechamber situated before the main ballroom. She seized hold of that hand and dragged him into a corner of it.“Lucius! I didn’t even know you would be here. That was kind of you. Kind, but unnecessary. I would have gotten around to dropping Dorian’s name eventually. I like your beard.”She had not changed. Her words were quick as her mind and she was so, so close.“It is no trouble. I did not want to see them harm you.”A change came over her - like she remembered, suddenly, that day a year ago when he ended their relationship, saying that he did not want to hold her back from the life she so richly deserved among her people back home in Enasan. She put more distance between them, backing towards the center of the antechamber.“Yes, well. How have you been since - that is to say, how are you?”Things had gone well for him since their relationship ended. He’d made great strides towards his dream of creating a magically-powered printing press, having partnered with dwarven enchanters from Kal-Sharok and merchants in Vyrantium to secure the necessary resources and contacts to make his plan a reality. He had made new friends. He had moved to a nicer flat in Minrathous. But somehow, all of that stuck in his throat, looking down at her now - no longer an abstract idea or memory that he could pretend didn’t hurt him, but instead a real woman - tall and curly-haired and lovely and no longer his.

“I’m well,” he lied. “Shall we go in?”

2.The International Council on Arcane Affairs was formed from a partnership between Grand Enchanter Vivienne and Minaeve, the new leader of the College of Magi, who had taken Fiona’s place after a sudden illness. Apparently they had grown close during their time in the Inquisition. So it was even more ridiculous that the anti-elven sentiment continued to circulate at the event, despite earnest attempts to stamp it out.

Lucius had thought that the whole charade between he and Ashara would be done after that first night. They’d spoken for a while - she still lived with her parents in the capital city of Enasan, she’d made a few friends at the university, her research into the possibility of spirits crossing the Veil without suffering harm or changing their nature was going well - and he’d lingered close to her for some time after that, making sure no one else gave her trouble. But surely it would go no further.

But that was before the protest began outside the grand dome of the College of Magi on the morning of the second day. Before the throng of people flinging mud and rotten food and offal at the white marble, demanding they hand over every single elf mage inside, to answer for the dead Orlesians in Clermont.

Before he heard one of the rabble say: “Most of the knife ears aren’t even staying here. They’re in taverns and inns around the city. We should flush ‘em out of their holes like the rabbits they are. There are only so many inns that give rooms to their kind.”

Lucius’s heart was in his throat. Ashara had mentioned the inn she was staying at that - the Dirty Duck, or the Black Swan - or maybe it was called the Black Swan but locals called it the Dirty Duck -

He found it quickly enough. It was a decent inn but not one of the nicer ones, and it was close to what remained of Cumberland’s alienage. A sovereign got him Ashara’s room number from the bored serving man in the tavern area, and his long legs ate up the steps two at a time.

She was still radiant.

Her hair was wrapped in green silk and she was wearing a long linen tunic and her leg wraps and she seemed utterly bewildered to see him.

“There’s a bit of an incident outside the College,” he said. “A crowd of anti-elven protestors. They were threatening to come and find the inns where elven guests were staying and do -” He felt heat creeping across the back of his neck. “Well, I didn’t wait that long. You shouldn’t stay here. There are so few places in the city that will rent rooms to elves, and if this kind of sentiment continues…”

“Fenedhis,” Ashara swore. Her face fell. She turned and went into her room, and after a moment’s hesitation he followed. “I can’t believe this. Everything my parents fought for. And humans still react this way.”

The door shut behind Lucius. They were alone. In her room. With her rumpled bed. She never made her bed. He knew that because of all the times they’d shared a bed, because he knew the smell of her skin in the morning and what it was like to kiss her shoulder when it was warm with sun -

“I can’t believe it either. It’s ridiculous,” he said, though the words felt like they came from somewhere outside of his body. Ashara was pacing now, her arms wrapped around herself.

“I suppose the easiest thing to do would just be to go home. But that’s what they want. I refuse to be intimidated that way. I’ll go there myself now and tell them that. I have every right to be here, and -”

“Come stay with me.”

Again, Lucius’s words came from someone that was and wasn’t him. Ashara stopped pacing and looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. She was flushed. What was he thinking? He couldn’t ask her to come and stay with him - what would she think?

“Would that even work?” she asked. “Aren’t you and Maevaris staying in one of those expensive new hotels near the center of the city? I don’t even know if they’ll let me in.”

She said it with such bitterness, and he wanted to go back to the college and shake every protestor there by the throat. How dare they make anyone feel this way. How dare they make her feel this way, when she had such a good heart, such a keen mind, so much to give the world.

“I’ll make sure they do.”

In hindsight, the problem that arose next was a rather obvious one.

He forcefully, calmly, told the (human) servant in the entryway that Ashara needed a key to his room, and that she was staying with him, and the servant glanced between the two of them and said:

“I take it this is your wife?”

Of course.

Of course he said that.

Well done, Talvas.

“Yes,” Ashara said, putting her arm around his waist. “I am his bondmate.”

And of course Ashara used the Dalish word for spouse, and her hair was still wrapped so her long, bladed ears were on full display, and her normally wide eyes were narrowed and angry. And of course his heart leapt all the same at how close she was.

This would not end well.

3.

“I’m sorry, you’re going to need to explain this to me again,” Claudia said. “In what universe, present, past, or future, was the only solution to this problem to pretend that you two are married?”

Claudia never did mince words.

Lucius sighed and pinched his temple.

“I already did explain it. The protestors -”

“And you didn’t think to have her stay with Mae? Or to stay with her at her inn until Dorian and I arrived and she could come stay with us? And somehow she didn’t think to mention any of these options either?” Claudia took another long sip of her wine.

“I don’t know, Claudia. It’s all that came to us.”

They were in one of the small sitting rooms in the College, in-between salons and discussions of all kinds. Ashara had gone to a different one from the two of them, and she was not back yet, which had led to the two of them sequestering themselves while they waited. They had not had a chance to talk in private that day before that moment.

“Fasta vass, Lucius. You two are the biggest idiots I know.”

Lucius’s anger flared. “I am trying to help her. To protect her.”

Claudia rolled her eyes. “So did you two sleep in the same bed last night?”

Lucius’s back still hurt from the night he’d passed on the floor. “Of course not. That’s not what this is.”

“Indeed.”

Lucius threw up his hands. “Claudia, this isn’t easy for me. Why would I do something that hurts me, if not to help her?”

Because it hadn’t been easy, lying there that night, hearing the rustle of her in the bed nearby, her quiet sleepy sounds. He was always one to sprawl out in every direction when he slept but he always made an effort to hold her while she fell asleep, when they shared a bed. Did she still have nightmares about what happened in Oruvun? If one woke her, what would he do? He could not kiss her eyelids and her forehead and her lips until her breathing slowed again.

It had not been easy when he woke before her that morning, stood and stretched, and saw that she had kicked off all her covers in the night, and was in her smalls and tunic alone, and he was greeted by the sight of her long legs, her skin nut-brown against the cream-colored sheets, her thighs dotted with yet more of those freckles.

Claudia, for her part, did look shocked at his vehemence. She put down her wine glass.

“I think you should stop and think about why it hurts that much.”

4.

Ashara insisted that he sleep on the bed on the third night, and that she could sleep on the floor. He woke up at one point to the weight of her sitting on the edge of his bed. She said something in Elvhen. Her hand rested feather-light on his shoulder. He found that he could not sleep the rest of the night, waiting for some sign, some sound, that would tell him it had not been a dream. That maybe, just maybe, this was hurting her too. Walking hand in hand through the throngs at the various events in that glittering marble building. Calling each other amata and arasha and husband and wife Averting their eyes or leaving the room when they changed back in their room.

That maybe it was hurting her too because she also wished so badly that all of this was real.

5.

It was on the fifth day that he kissed her, without any premeditation, of course.

The gala that evening ran late, and she was wearing another beautiful gown, handpainted cream-and-rose silk this time, a fuller skirt, and a neckline that plunged nearly to her navel, leaving that perfect expanse of skin between her breasts bare to the warm Nevarran air. She was laughing, stumbling against him, and that was when he saw two or three men coming down the road towards them, rough-looking sorts, angry-looking men, and before he could think of anything else he had pulled her to one side of the road, turned so that she was nearly against the building, and kissed her, trying to shield her from sight with his body. His heart raced in his ears. She made a startled sound - and then she melted against him, her hands on his waist. The men passed them by. He stepped back from her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know this is all supposed to be fake, I don’t know why I -”

She took his face in both her hands and kissed him, and her gown was smooth and cool under his hands but the skin on her back was hot, and when she parted her lips she tasted just like he remembered.

She pulled back, her breath already drawing short. She gestured nervously with her hands while she talked.

“No - I - now I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You had your reasons why you ended things and we haven’t even talked about any of this, and I’m sure I’m just taking advantage of your kindness -”

He kissed her, and he let every ounce of longing, every regret he’d ever felt in the time they’d been apart pour into that kiss. A fine tremor ran through his hand where it rested on the small of her back, and this time they were both out of breath.

“Then let’s talk,” he said.

She beamed at him. “Okay. In the morning. And - I think maybe I should stay in Claudia’s room instead.”

6.

The International Council on Arcane Affairs was full of watching eyes, and naturally people had noticed that the daughter of Fen’Harel and Maevaris Tilani’s protege had been seen in each other’s company and were even, reportedly, claiming to be married. So people did talk when they arrived to the sixth day’s events separately.

But, more importantly, they talked that afternoon, in one of the libraries.

“The moment I saw you,” Ashara said. “The moment you put your hand on my back and called me amata -”

“I know,” he said.

Ashara wet her lips.

“But you were the one who ended things, Lucius. And I accepted that - and - so much of what you said that day hasn’t changed. Your life is in Minrathous and mine is in Enasan. I don’t know that I could ever live in Tevinter long-term. Not as an elf. You could come to Enasan, but things are so unsettled now, after what happened in Clermont…”

She was right. She was. And good things had happened in Lucius’s life since he walked away from her - but as he sat there in a library bathed in light, not quite touching her, he realized that none of them quite compared to the way he felt when he looked in her.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “If you are willing to try - I know that I am. I want this to be real.”

“Me too, vhenan.”

She took his hand, and smiled at him, and he realized in that moment - it already was real. It always had been.

7.

They didn’t make it to the seventh day of the council. There were too many other lost days they needed to make up, too many smiles to share, too many plans to make.

Claudia was the one who came looking for them, although when she took one look at them, she had only one word to share: “Finally.”

[mllemaenad]

How to make a slave class: an essay on evil

Hawke: Why does Meredith have a Tranquil assistant?

Anders: She flaunts what she can do to mages. She likes to rub our faces in it.

Elsa: The knight-commander believes Tranquil mages to be efficient and single-minded. I, in particular, am extremely organised.

It is insidious. It is vile. It is the work of centuries. The Chantry has created a class of utter non-persons, whom even their fellow prisoners in the Circles of Thedas do not think to defend.

Look at Anders, here. In Dragon Age 2, Anders is the voice of mage freedom. There are others in the world, of course: Fiona has been fighting for her people for some time, and the Resolutionists are out there – somewhere – striving to break free of the Chantry. But they’re not here now, in Hawke’s story. Here, Anders is the one who reminds Hawke and the player of the suffering in the Gallows, and that it is not just in the Gallows: in Circles all over the continent, many mages suffer as the Kirkwall ones do, if not quite so publicly and with such startling frequency.

But here? He does not talk to Elsa. He does not engage with her. He talks about her to Hawke, and he makes it clear that he regards her position as both a threat and an insult to the mages. He’s probably right. Meredith is like that.

Elsa is not a person to Anders. She is, at best, a walking corpse – the shadow of whoever she used to be. At worst she is a psychological weapon, who can do nothing but harm the survivors in the Gallows: those mages who have not yet been given the brand. Anders has given up on Elsa.

And that’s exactly what the bastards want.

The Tranquil are the least understood but most visible members of the Circle. Every city of respectable size boasts a Circle of Magi shop, and every one of these shops is run by a Tranquil proprietor.

The name is a misnomer, for they are not tranquil at all; rather, they are like inanimate objects that speak. If a table wished to sell you an enchanted penknife, it could pass as one of these people. Their eyes are expressionless, their voices monotone. Incomparable craftsmen they might be, but they are hardly the sort of mages to put ordinary folk at ease.

��� In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar

Genitivi is undeniably among the less hostile Chantry scholars. While certainly true to his faith, he tries to be aware of his biases and his interest in other cultures is genuine. Nevertheless, he is a product of Chantry indoctrination. Look how easily, how comfortably, he assures you that the Tranquil are not people. They are not humans or elves. They are furniture, to be used and discarded.

Genitivi’s books are popular: there’s a reason he pops up so often in the Codex. Think of all the people who read this, and then ignored bruises they saw on Tranquil faces, ignored Tranquil voices that described beatings and other abuse. Think of the ones who went further – who understood that peasants, elves and mages might be lowly people, but if cornered they might still fight back ... but that the Tranquil would not. And really, if you break a table you can just get a new one.

The Templars gathered you for your Harrowing in the middle of the night, without warning. Succeed at the test and you were a mage in full. Fail and you were dead. If you refused the test, you were put through the Rite of Tranquillity and rendered an emotionless neuter. It was a preferable fate for some, but Rhys found that hard to believe – he couldn’t get near a Tranquil without shuddering. He would rather be dead than spend the rest of his life looking at the world through those dead eyes.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

The amount of terror and loathing the Circle has instilled in mages for the Tranquil is appalling. Consider Rhys’s word choice here: emotionless neuter,  shuddering, dead eyes. He is afraid of the Tranquil, yes, but they also disgust him. They symbolise failure and hopelessness to him. In theory, a mage’s greatest fear is becoming possessed by demons. But in practice, they mostly fear being made Tranquil.

Imagine being an apprentice mage. Say – eighteen or nineteen. You’re anxious perhaps, or not especially skilled at magic. You don’t want to fight anything, and your teachers and your fellow apprentices do nothing but remind you, whether they mean to or not, that your Harrowing must come soon ... and you’re not going to make it.

So when the Templars come, you tell them no. You won’t take this terrible, mysterious test of theirs. They can’t make you. And no – they really can’t. So they drag you away to wherever they keep that lyrium brand of theirs, and they do what they do with it.

And when it’s done, you have no friends. No one wants to look at you. Any friend you had among the apprentices will shy away, sickened and horrified: they know that any day now, they might be mutilated like you. No one wants to talk to you. No one wants to hear about what you do – or what has been done to you. But it doesn’t matter, right? You’re just furniture now. Nothing could possibly be wrong with you. Even if you are a bit battered around the edges, it couldn’t bother you any more than a dent would bother a table.

Avexis, in Haven, says she would not accept the cure for Tranquillity because she does not believe she would survive it, given the terrible things that have happened to her while Tranquil. This young elven woman was once perhaps the most visible mage in Thedas (I mean, talking to dragons is pretty noticeable) and the Right Hand of the Divine should have had an eye on her. But she was made Tranquil, and no one noticed her enough to even stop people hurting her. In Inquisition she isn’t even named; you have to infer her identity from her damn ambient dialogue. The girl who could talk to dragons is rendered invisible by her Tranquillity.

It is even dubious whether Tranquil actually count as mages. Certainly the official stance seems to be yes:

The Tranquil, ironically, resemble sleepwalkers, never entirely awake nor asleep. They are still part of our Circle, however, and some might say they are the most critical part. They have incredible powers of concentration, for it is simply impossible to distract a Tranquil mage, and this makes them capable of becoming craftsmen of such skill that they rival even the adeptness of the dwarves. The Formari, the branch of the Circle devoted to item enchantment, is made up exclusively of Tranquil, and is the source of all the wealth that sustains our towers.

– On Tranquillity and the Role of the Fade in Human Society

... but the general feeling seems to be no:

“Yet here I am. Ask yourself which possibility is more likely.” It chuckled at her grim expression. “Ah, yes. If the Rite of Tranquillity can be undone, Templars would have to watch over the Tranquil as well as the mages. Suddenly no one is safe.”

The commons was crowded, just as Adrian had often seen it before. People stood in clumps, speaking of things in calm whispers. None of them were mages, however. They were all Tranquil. All of them.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

Notably, waaaay up at the top of this post, Elsa takes a stand on this: Tranquil mages, she says. It’s a subtle rebuke and I doubt Anders picks it up, but it’s there. She is a mage, and she is of the Circle. And right now she’s facing the possibility of an Annulment just like everyone else.

Mages are stateless persons: they are Chantry wards, and may be transferred between Circles without their consent. No government has the right to protect its mage citizens – although some do try. But the Tranquil don’t belong even among mages. Damn near no one is listening to the mages’ cries for help – but no one can even grasp that a Tranquil might ever need help.

So, we have established that the Tranquil are people to whom you can do anything, and it doesn’t matter because they won’t feel it anyway. But it does not follow from there that they will do anything:

Ser Alrik: That’s right. Once you’re Tranquil you’ll do anything I ask.

This is the Chantry’s great lie. If the Chantry has said a thing is true, triple check it to be sure – because most of what they say is an ugly lie. They have said these people are furniture to prevent you from appreciating that they’re slaves. Pharamond is quite vehement in his insistence that the Tranquil sometimes do things because they think they’re a good idea:

“The Tranquil do nothing they’re not asked to.”

“That’s not true! We have free will. We just ... desire nothing, we strive for nothing.”

– Dragon Age: Asunder

There is no denying that Tranquillity changes the way the mind works. But if part one of this plan is creating invisible non-persons, part two is then using that invisibility to force them to do your bidding. Let’s consider Karl Thekla:

Karl: I was too rebellious. Like you. The Templars knew I had to be ... made an example of.

We’ll probably never know exactly why Karl betrayed Anders. He simply isn’t around long enough for anyone to talk about it properly. And the Tranquillity itself is clearly a part of it: Karl is distressed by that state, and regards it as a kind of torture in itself. But when he asks to die, his last, desperate argument is that he cannot bear to fall back into Templar hands:

Karl: I would rather die a mage than live as a Templar puppet.

We know, indisputably, that they are beating the Tranquil in the Gallows:

Tranquil mage: Please do not steal the merchandise. I will be beaten if you do.

There is also, disturbingly, this:

A ball of white fire soared toward him, everything she had poured into it, and when it struck him it exploded into an inferno.

He was engulfed, as were the Tranquil nearest to him. They shrieked as they lit up, trying in futility to run away.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

To be fair, these aren’t real Tranquil: they are dream Tranquil. But they are Pharamond’s dream Tranquil, and if anyone gets to decide how the Tranquil respond to pain, it’s the guy who cured his own Tranquillity.

The Chantry claims that the Tranquil don’t feel, but they also know that beatings work. Tranquil scream. And so they have fear. Not as a non-Tranquil person would experience it, no, and they certainly are not able to express it in any ‘conventional’ sense. But they have it. Avexis was hurt so badly she does not believe she would survive the cure for Tranquillity. The woman selling Circle wares in the Gallows courtyard fears being beaten for others’ crimes.

Karl has free will, as a Tranquil, but has no expectation of being able to use it. What was done to him, to make him betray his principles so thoroughly?

They do have principles. The Tranquil may not strive for anything, but they will damn well take a stand for it, when the opportunity arises. The taboo against discussing the Rite of Tranquillity is broken twice in Asunder. Once is by Pharamond, who delivers a haunting description of the experience of being Tranquil. The other is by an unnamed elven woman, who draws Rhys a bath:

She stopped and turned to look at him. “If I felt pain,” she said softly, “it is meaningless to me now. Once I knew only fear, but now I know only service. Whatever pain there was, I believe it an acceptable trade.”

The Tranquil left. Though Rhys sat in near-scalding water, he felt a chill race through his heart.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

Poor Rhys spends most of the damn novel terrified the Templars are going to either kill him or make him Tranquil. This woman knows this – he initially believed she was taking him to have the Rite performed – and talked to him because she thought he needed an answer. She spoke out of compassion. And if the answer she gave him was somewhat unsettling – well, that’s the least that could be said of being made Tranquil.

This same woman turns up again later, and provides intelligence on the Lord Seeker to Wynne, Evangeline and Shale as they go to destroy the phylacteries:

“Why are you telling us this?” she asked. I’ve never known the Tranquil to do anything but what they’re told.”

The woman tilted her head curiously, as if the answer should be obvious. “Obedience is prudent. To interpret it as a lack of free will would be an error.” She turned to leave, and then paused. “Good luck, Knight-Captain.” And with that she walked away, vanishing into the shadows.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

This is a nameless elven Tranquil mage – a person with literally no identity, and zero social status. She is the least of all people in Thedas. And she twice defies what ‘everyone knows’ about the Tranquil to aid Asunder’s protagonists. History will likely forget her, but she is remarkable all the same.

And in all of this, I cannot forget Maddox.

Maddox: Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again.

Maddox: I ... wanted to help ...

Maddox loved Samson. What other words could you use for it? Cullen refers to him as ‘Samson’s Tranquil’ because, frankly, Cullen has about as much humanity and compassion as the giant scorpions in the Fallout games – but the truth is that Maddox was Samson’s friend.

Yes, they are fucked up: they are the survivors of Meredith’s regime in Kirkwall, and pretty well no one got out of that shitshow in one piece. There’s no way to argue that Samson is doing the right thing here. Samson isn’t even really trying to win: at his trial he frames it all as a means of taking the Templar Order out with one last bang. And Maddox, here, emulates that: his suicide is not practical, but a tragic act of loyalty; an effort to save Samson as Samson saved him.

I can’t applaud the pair of them for running around with Corypheus, but I can’t help but compare Maddox with Genitivi:

The name is a misnomer, for they are not tranquil at all; rather, they are like inanimate objects that speak. If a table wished to sell you an enchanted penknife, it could pass as one of these people.

That genial lie. That gentle insistence that everything is fine: these are not people, and they are not hurting; it isn’t even possible to hurt them. If they are beaten and that keeps them in line, that’s nothing to be concerned about. They don’t really feel it. Even the mages give up on those of their people who are made Tranquil. Even Anders doesn’t think to fight for the Tranquil.

But look at Maddox there, who loved Samson. Tell me he’s a fucking table.

That is how the Chantry made these people slaves.

I am very sorry that Inquisition blew up the mage rebellion and flushed its remains down the toilet. I am distressed that it chose to carve out Tranquil skulls to make magical telescopes. I hope we come back to them, next time there’s a game.

It’s time these people got their place in the world back.

[pauperpedia]

What’s the future for Aggro?

Pauper will never be the same after Commander Legends. This has been the set everyone wanted, but at the same time it seems everyone is fearful of it, and rightfully so. We've gotten access to some very powerful cards in regard to control, midrange, and tron strategies which will shape the format for a long time to come. Aggro decks, however, did not get any new toys or bigger creatures with which to counteract all these new cards. So which cards am I framing here that could make aggro a less than viable option when figuring out a deck to play in the future?

Well, Pauper finally got the sweeper that people have talked about for years in the form of Fiery Cannonade. Now, if you look at the sweepers we had before, they mostly did one damage or gave -1/-1 to each creature until the end of turn, which was fine because most of the time these were sideboard cards you would bring in against token decks or go wide strategies. One could argue we already had Pestilence, Crypt Rats, and Evincar's Justice. My argument would be is that Fiery Cannonade is not only one mana cheaper, but a heck of a lot easier to cast when it comes to color requirements. It's also instant speed which is a huge deal when it comes to control decks or anything that runs Mystical Teachings. Some decks already run Suffocating Fumes in the mainboard, in part due to its cycle ability when it's dead, so I'm curious to see if any decks would run this mainboard as well. This set also opened up the playable color pie when it comes to Monarch cards. Monarch is a mechanic that was created primarily for multi-player formats. It is an effect that cannot be permanently removed from the game state once it's introduced. If a player controls the monarch, they draw a card at the beginning of their end step. The only way to lose or gain the monarch is to deal or have combat damage dealt to you via creatures. In multiplayer formats this is a fun mechanic that encourages people to attack in the face of any in game politics. The player holding the monarch becomes a target for other players to come after them. In a 1v1 scenario, however, this means that the main focus once the Monarch once has been introduced to the game state is to protect it. I think we can all agree protecting something against one assailant is a lot easier than protecting something from multiple. The main goal is to amass more resources than your opponent and eventually kill them in the long game. In order to protect the monarch, decks utilize fog tacticts to delay the game in the monarch's favor. This leads to long, drawn out, and uninteresting games for the aggro player once this situation presents itself. Commander Legends gave blue two very powerful monarch cards, Fall from Favor & Azure Fleet Admiral. Fall from Favor is an unprecedented enchantment-aura spell which can give a player the monarch for three mana. Being able to lock down a creature that would threaten to take the monarch away and give you the monarch at the same time doesn't bode well for any aggressive decks not holding up targeted protection. Then you have the Admiral, which not only gives you the monarch, but also makes it so that you can take it back relatively easy allowing you to set up situtations to lock your opponent out from getting the monarch back in the future. I guess Azure Fleet Admiral dies to Lightning Bolt and Savage Swipe, but any decent player running monarch cards will most likely have resources at hand to deal with that outcome.

So how will aggro decks adapt to overcome these hurdles? I've had the great plasure to chat with some of our formats well known players. A common concern regarding aggro decks is their ability to recover from board wipes now that Fiery Cannon is a thing. Stompy is the biggest deck that could suffer. Most of Stompy's creatures are 2/2s so they can take full advantage of Savage Swipe. As the deck stands now, it will hinge on whether or not they can represent lethal by turn three or have a creature big enough by casting Hunger of the Howlpack. The problem with that is that even a really good hand, presenting lethal by turn three is highly unlikely. Even having one big creature puts a Stompy player in a bad position due in part to Skred, Cast Down, Defile, and Snuff out to name a few removal cards that could be run alongside Fiery Cannonade.

Calpine, a notable Tortured Existence player and daily Pauper Twitch streamer, told me he thinks aggro decks will have two paths moving forward. One path relies on going even harder on faster kills, and ignoring midrange stuff like Elephant Guide, in favor of Groundswell. I wonder if perhaps Stompy will go back to its roots and focus more on one drops that go in for a quick kill? Calpine said another path is for aggro players is to build a deck with more resilient threats or rely on burn more. Calpine noted that creatures like Mogg War Marshall, Safehold Elite, Young Wolf, etc. will become more popular. He also said that red decks will lean more heavily on burn them out strategies. I think creatures like Viashino Pyromancer & Orcish Hellraiser are decent candidates that could see more play. Goblin decks could also run pirates which dodge Fiery Cannonade, so I think creatures like Fanatical Firebrand & Goblin Trailblazer have a chance at seeing more play as well.

Zimplfy aka NotGood on MTGO, host of the UnFamiliar Territory podcast & all around good guy, went on to say that Elves is definetely going to get hurt by Fiery Cannonade. There was some discussion floating around that Wrap in Vigor could be an option, but both Zimplfy and I don't think that would be good enough. So, like all good investigative reporters, I sought out an Elves expert to find out how Elves could adapt. Thankfully Walker735 was willing to give their insight. Walker735 went on to say that Elves already has a lot of answers. Hydroblast, Prohibit, Negate, Dispel, and previously mentioned Wrap in Vigor are the best examples. It's just a matter of which ones will end as the best answers moving forward as it pertains to the metagame. Walker735 said this about what they want from their protection spell suite: 1) 2-3 protection spells in the main that are useful more or less in every matchup. 2) A combination of 4-6 protection spells in the 75 for every relevant matchup. 3) The protection spells used in the matchups have to not only be effective, but also efficient. Post Fiery Cannonade, Elves will probably have to give up on some sideboard slots that used to be dedicated to other things. This is a shame because it will weaken the overall deck, but hopefully not too much. Walker735 said it's difficult to theorycraft a specific protection spell suite already, beacause we dont have the data for what the metagame will look like. They're confident, however, that with all the good options available, Elves will be able to come up with a suite of protection spells that meet the requirements.

As someone who loves playing the white slice of magic's color pie, there are only two options when it comes to aggro decks. You have Heroic, a deck focused on buffing your creatures and holding up protection, or you have White Weenie which can either go wide or try and play like Stompy albeit not as efficiently. I think its pretty safe to assume any White Weenie strategy is now most likely dead, if it was even alive to begin with. In order to combat an efficient sweeper like Fiery Cannonade, White Weenie decks would have to run mainboard protection spells like Hallow or creatures like Loyal Cathar and Doomed Traveler. The main thing holding White Weenie and Heroic back, is the lack of card draw playing white has to offer. There's no coming back from early removal followed by a boardwipe, there's no Winding Way or Lead the Stampede. Until pauper gets downshifts or new relevant white cards in the format that not only combat sweepers more efficiently, but spells that can bring you back from the brink, white will continue being a support color in pauper strategies. Moving Forward now that we have an interesting downshift in Champion of the Flame and a new card in Benevolent Blessing (a more efficient Cho-Manno's Blessing), Heroic could become a Boros deck. This could change could give Heroic more reach, but at the same time you run the risk of losing early tempo now that you run two colors. Hexproof is already a really good deck that often loses to its own manabase, and I think running Boros Heroic just makes the deck a worse attempt at what Hexproof already does.

I think early on in the Post Commander Legends era, aggressive decks will find it hard to grab a decent foothold in the metagame. I think the most viable aggro decks moving forward will be Hexproof, Affinity, and I think you might see a resurgance in Tireless Tribe if you could classify that as an aggro deck. All three of these decks have ways of killing an opponent early, dodge Fiery Cannonade, and have answers when it comes to fighting monarch style decks. Deluxeicoff, original deck designer & host of Pauperganda, stated that Benevolent Blessing will be a house in Hexproof. It will be hard to measure how many feel right in the deck, but the deck will just "feel better/more consistent. In addition to that, I’d like to add that Hexproof also has access to cards like Essence Harvest which it brings in against decks that try to fog combat or prevent damage with Prismatic Strands. The two paired up do sound nice. Affinity is already a strong deck that has been on a recent trend of playing Jeskai Colors. I think the new addition of Fiery Cannonade will force Affinity to go back to playing Myr Enforcer and Carapace Forger and forgo the white splash in Glint Hawk, Thraben Inspector, and Kor Skyfisher. Tireless Tribe is a fun deck that could see a rise in success. Benevolent Blessing is definitely a card that can give this deck a boost. The built in ability for Tribe to dodge sweepers and mainboard counters to beat fogs, could make Tireless Tribe a sleeper deck that could spike a tournament or burn through a league with good results.

Of course, all of the above is heavily reliant on Fiery Cannonade being the major factor when it comes to aggro's demise. It will most likely be an abundance of factors that combine the influx of newer and cheaper monarch cards as well as the new sweeper. Keep in mind, the sweeper hits non pirates only and the new relevant monarch creatures are both pirates. I actually had a dream where a new UR Pirates deck was running amok and was the new deck to beat. While this nightmare scenario is just that, a fictional nightmare, it's not that crazy. I think you will see UR Faeries try to make a comeback. You started to see the deck deploy a more robust land selection so that it could reliably cast Crown-Hunter Hireling. Let's be honest, while it did put up results briefly, Crown-Hunter Hireling is a horrible card. Now, you can have the monarch on turn three with Fall from Favor if you need it, and can continue to get the monarch back if you lost it thanks to Azure Fleet-Admiral. This kind of tempo and card advantage will spell disaster for opposing aggro decks. Only time will tell which will be worse for aggro decks; the introduction of an easy to cast three mana "sweeper" at instant speed, or the new monarch cards in blue which was already a strong color to begin with.

[thecreativeangel]

Dancing (Peter Parker x Reader) Hogwarts AU

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Part four of the Improper series

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Between the upcoming Yule Ball and the completely biased new Daily Prophet column, you still find time to fight with Peter on most everything. 

Warnings: Swearing, attempted assault, Peter being a little bitch... 

Words: 2,570

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“What is this rubbish?”

You peered over the paper Abigail was reading, eyeing the bold Daily Prophet title wearily. She rolled the newspaper shut and thrust in in your hands, tapping her foot under the table rapidly. You flipped through pages until she gave another growl, signalling this page was the one. Scanning the article became harder and harder with each word that you read, every paragraph more unbearable than the last.

“Followers of the Dark Arts and believers in blood purification may have found their way into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” You read aloud, that sentence alone grabbing Erin and Keira’s attention. “‘The Ministry suspects that they are the children of Voldemort’s old followers, influenced by their wicked parents’ says Teah Craffmann, senior undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. ‘They were most likely chosen to be in the same house as their parents, further influencing them to become the next generation of renegade witches and wizards.’”

Erin blinked twice, processing the information. “Did they imply what I think they did?” She asks menacingly, ripping the Daily Prophet from your hands and spreading it out on the table between her and Keira.

“Concerning Hogwarts,” Keira quotes. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is yet to be apprehensive about the subject, but sources admit they have gotten reports that the rush of interest in blood purity and Dark Art practices may have spread to more than one house.”

“They’re barmy!” You exclaim hotly.

“Of course they’re barmy, it’s the Daily Prophet!” Erin cries. “So are they really-”

“Yup,” Abigail confirms, snatching the paper back. “The entire article is just one big conspiracy by the D.M.L.E. to lowkey say ‘Hey, those kids that like the Dark Arts are all in Slytherin.’”

“Don’t forget them saying this might span more than one house.” You remind sourly. “‘By the way-Ravenclaw seems to be friends with Slytherin so fuck it, they’re guilty too.”

“Get Michelle and Stella over here, they need to see this.” Erin says, pulling out her phone to text them.

“You don’t need to,” Abigail warns, scanning the Great Hall, her eyes flicking from one table to another. “Look.”

You followed her gaze, dread seizing you. All across the hall students were also reading the paper, flipping through its pages. Some were already looking over at the Slytherin table with skeptical eyes. Over at the Gryffindor table Peter was squinting over Inigo’s shoulder to look at the Daily Prophet. You watched Inigo slap the newspaper down on his empty plate and grin with glee, pointing out something to Peter. Your heart sank down to your feet but somehow managed to beat a thousand times per half minute.

“It’s too late,” Erin says, laying her phone down. “Mick says everyone at the Ravenclaw table saw, and Merlin knows they figured out what all the fancy wording means.”

Her phone dinged and another text popped up on the screen. “...And Stella says the Hufflepuffs figured it out too.” Erin informs with a tight tone. “...And the Gryffindors overheard.”

Keira gives a dry laugh. “Awesome.” She says, layering the sarcasm on thick.

Erin checked her phone again. “Stella’s asking if it’s true.”

“It’s probably a fake created to fill up a page in the Daily Prophet,” Abigail says, glaring at the paper like it bit her. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Absolutely great timing, as usual. Can’t wait ‘till the other houses start teasing us about this.”

Students began to file out of the Great Hall so you and your friends stood up first, eager to go.

“So it’s true,” A pleased voice behind you announces. “The weirdos who like Dark Arts have spread from Slytherin to Gryffindor. I told Pete, but he wouldn’t believe me.”

You tense up instantly and slowly wheel around to face Inigo. “Didn’t you love the Daily Prophet today?” He taunts, blocking your way. “Peter seemed to enjoy it, didn’t you Pete?”

Peter passed you to stand Inigo’s side, his face completely unreadable. “Enjoy isn’t the right word,” He says stiffly, watching you closely. “She chose her friends, not me.”

“C-Chose?” You sputter, a couple actives higher than intended. Tempers were rising fast; you wouldn’t be able to keep your cool for long. “The bloody hell you mean I chose my friends? What d’you think, being around him is a good influence.” You jabbed your thumb at Inigo.

“You are in no position to judge my choice of companionship.” Peter deflects, still serene and poised. That angered you like nothing else; him being so impassive.

“Why is that, eh mate?” Erin asks venomously.

“Because she’s surrounded by freaks idolize the Dark Arts.” Inigo states. Peter looks ready to say something but closes his mouth. “Merlin, and I thought you couldn’t get any creepier. Cruciated anyone lately?”

“No, but I’m about to.” Abigail threatens, her hand darting to her pocket.

Erin pushes you away from Inigo and Peter, leaving them standing there. She had to grab Abigail by the collar to prevent her from pulling her wand out and hexing Inigo in the middle of the hall.

“Not now Abby…” Keira whispers through clenched teeth. Abigail tried to wrench herself from Erin’s grip but the latter held on tightly.

“Just one spell!” Abigail snarls, starting to swirl her wand to cast a spell. “I could stuff his body in the closet and no one would notice! Peter too for hanging out with him!”

Erin snatched Abigail’s wand away and held it above her head. “Or we could go to the secret room and chill there,” She suggest. “Find Mickey and Stella so we can go steal popcorn from the elves. My mum sent me another Muggle movie, should be great.”

Abigail grabbed for her wand. “But -”

“It’s fine, Abby,” You reassure. “I’m tired of thinking about Peter, anyway.”

The Yule Ball was today. Right now, to be exact. ‘Yule Ball’ were two words that made you want to roll your eyes and scream into a pillow. It was just an excuse for unreasonable amounts of drama, which definitely came. You had a dress and all that, but the outfit was the least of your worries. Michelle, you and Abigail practically begged Professor McGonagall to let the group skip, but she wouldn’t budge. Something about “good school spirit” and “getting out more”.

“Erin, Keira and Stella don’t have to come,” Abigail grumbles, staring down at her shoes. “Lucky little-they’re only a bit sick too! Probably just their excuse to ditch.”

“We could run for it,” Michelle suggests, looking very uncomfortable in her dress. “The library doesn’t close until nine. If we hide in the bathroom that’s cool too. I’m down with anything but this.”

You wished that were possible. There were so many things that could go wrong. To put it simply, you plus the Gryffindors who hate you and the tension between houses, minus strict supervision of a teacher equals... Me, probably dead, bleeding out on the floor. 

The three of you were already late and the doors to the Great Hall were closed. While reaching out to tug them open, Abigail stopped you. “I wasn’t kidding (Name). I don’t want to do this. Let’s find a good hiding place and stay there.”

You swat her hand away and begin to pull the door open. “We’ll make it. It’s just a couple hours,” You say. “Stay together, remember?”

Abigail heaves an overdramatic sigh. “Fine.”

The heavy door is swung open and light from the corridor streamed into the dark room. Everyone nearest to the exit froze in place, disrupted by the late arrival. You took a step forth, and then another, and another until your legs carried you into the Great Hall. There was a silence and then; Abigail shut the heavy oak doors, and everything went back to normal.

Michelle gave a low whistle of approval. “They went all out this year, huh?”

You could only gawk at the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling was showing a dark starry sky, the bright moon illuminating the room a gentle silver. The brick arches were turned to towering trees, the marble floor was soft grass. If you squinted you could see the little balls of floating light were fairies, peacefully drifting from one person to the next. Water cascaded off a stone fountain in the center of the Great Hall, splashing into a pond surrounded by lush greenery. A band you didn’t know played on stage as everyone danced to the beat.

Abigail tapped your shoulder. “Corner?”

You nodded before spying Peter twirling Liz Allan around near the stage. I’m not jealous. They looked so happy. What even is jealousy? Peter laughed at something Liz said. Never heard of it, never felt it… Liz leaned in and kissed Peter on the cheek. Okay, that’s enough torture for a lifetime.

Most of the Yule Ball is passed in the following activities: Abigail would carry plates of food to the small uncrowded corner that you found, Michelle would complain that there were too many pop songs playing, you would agree with her and silently hope they played some alternative rock. After half an hour of peppy pop songs the music changed to Nirvana.

“Oh thank Merlin.” Michelle yells over the noise, pulling you to the dance floor. “I was about to throw up.”

You swayed to the song, albeit somewhat awkwardly, but were slowly becoming more relaxed. Michelle was mouthing the words to “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, a constant smile on her face. You excused yourself to go get a drink and strolled over to the drinks table, pouring butterbeer into your goblet. 

A pair of hands latched onto your arm, causing you to spill some butterbeer on the floor. You assumed it was Abigail or Michelle, you prayed it was them, but the hands held on too tightly. They began to drag you from the ball, out of the Great Hall. You screamed at the person but one hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling the cries. They shoved you into a broom closet, slamming the door. You could feel their breath on your face, smelling strongly of firewhiskey.

“Geroff!” You yell, grabbing his (you figured out it was a boy) shoulders and shoving him against the wall. The broom closet was so small he only stumbled back an arm's length, clumsily falling on an old Cleansweep, snapping it in two. You scanned the person, remembering him from your bathroom encounter with Inigo. He was the same burly brunette who slammed your head against the mirror. The boy didn’t speak but pinned your arms above your head before you could punch him. He grabs the skirt and pulls it up, revealing a good portion of your legs.

“I said get off! I’ll tell McGonagall! I’ll have you expelled!” Your voice is slightly hoarse and all of you is revolted when his hand moves farther up your leg.

The door bursts open and the boy’s hand drops down off your thigh. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Your attacker falls to the ground, arms and legs pinned to his sides, stiff as a board. Peter stands with his wand raised, his face contorted in rage. You realize you’re panting and lean on the wall, not wanting to face Peter yet.

“Are-are you okay?” Peter asks, stuffing his wand in the pocket of his dress robe.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” You challenge, stepping over your attackers stiff body.

“Didn’t you have yo-”

“No, I didn’t have my wand!” You snap hotly. There was little fear in you, just anger and frustration. “He jumped me! He jumped me and I couldn’t do anything!”

“Bran’s drunk. I told Inigo it wasn’t a good idea to bring firewhiskey.” Peter says bitterly and slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s picking out the right words to say. You know that. “It’s not his-”

You growl like an animal, lip curling up in a scowl. “Don’t tell me it’s not his fault!” You snarl fiercely.

Peter’s hands ball into fists inside his pockets. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No, no, no. I heard you. You were going to say it wasn’t his fault.” You step on the boy’s sleeve, twisting it under your shoe. “How can you say that? How can you defend him?”

“You defended your friend when she punched you.” Peter grumbles, thinking you wouldn’t hear him. He thought wrong.

“Are you still on about that?” You marvel at his pettiness, your chest growing tight. “That was last year. How can you compare Erin to this twat?”

You prod Bran’s cheek with the toe of your ankle boot, moving his head to the side. “He was going to-to abuse me!” You shout and stomp down on Bran’s face, hearing his nose give a satisfying crack. Raising your foot again, you kicked the side of his head as hard as you could.

“What are you doing?” Peter yells, grabbing your arm and throwing you out of the closet, away from Bran. A trickle of blood was flowing out of Bran’s nose and pooling near his mouth.

“I’m, I-dammit I don’t know!” You sputter feverishly, throwing his hand off our arm. “He deserved it! He deserved being hurt!”

“That’s out of order.” Peter says, dangerously calm. “You can’t kick him like that for anything.”

“I’ll do what I want!”

“My god-you’re supposed to be brave and selfless, not-”

“Not what?” You ask shrilly.

“Cruel, inconsiderate, temperamental, dense, tactless…” Peter says. “The list goes on! You. Are. A. Gryffindor. Start acting like one.”

You stand there, processing his words. Angry red blotches appear on your cheeks, your entire face heating up as the anger set in. “And you were supposed to be my friend!” You bellow, blinking rapidly.

It takes a moment for you to cool down. You look straight forward and set your jaw, glowering at him. “Peter Parker, you are a shit friend.”

And then you ran. Past him, past Bran in the closet, past the closed doors to the Great Hall until your feet were splitting and only stopped when you reached the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. You kicked your boots off and plopped down on the carpet with your feet tucked under your legs. One of the robes you lost is laying neatly folded on the couch, probably found by a house elf. You reach over and snatch it, pulling it into your lap. Peter’s words swirl around your head, repeating over and over again like a chant. You are a Gryffindor. Act like one. The pad of your thumb glides over the sewn on Gryffindor crest on the robe. You are a Gryffindor. Act like one. You clutch the robe tighter, resisting the urge to throw it in the fire.

If being a Gryffindor means being like Inigo or Peter… You tear the crest from the robe and chuck it in the fireplace, watching it smoke and curl at the edges, turning ashy and black.

Then I will never be one.

The next morning you thump down the stairs before anyone else even woke up to retrieve the robe you forgot on the floor. In your fury and tiredness, it slipped from your memory to take it back last night. You slide on the carpet, still in your pajamas and fuzzy socks to see the robe yet again folded, sitting on the coffee table. Picking up the article of clothing and inspecting it, you conclude it wasn’t jinxed or tampered with as a prank and everything seems normal, except for one thing-

A new Gryffindor crest was sewn back on the front. You frown, having mixed feelings about the house elves fixing the garment. It wasn’t until breakfast later that day you realized that the crest was sewn on rather poorly, and that no house elf worked past dark yesterday.

Tag: @madithemagicalfangirl, @makaylahoran,  @girlygirlbishop, @kaitlynthehuman, @inelasco, @mcheung0314, @damnedangel98

[gathering-magic]

Cryptic Commander #13: For the Birds

I’ve dabbled in building tribal decks in the past (my Gisa and Geralf Zombie Tribal deck stands out as the prime example), but Tribal decks have generally felt a little too narrow in scope for my liking. The more popular tribes tend to have a strict mechanical focus which dictates the direction the deck should be built in. Take Elves, for example. Elves like to make mana, pump each other up, and swing in for the win. A lot of Elf decks end up looking pretty similar because the Elf lords all reinforce those mechanical focuses. Goblins like swarming, attacking, and blowing things up regardless of the consequences. Zombies are entirely focused on attrition and graveyard recursion. You get the idea. Popular tribes are hard to innovate with due to how focused they are. However, there is room to play around with some of the tribes that have fallen by the wayside.

Today, I want to go south for the winter and build a deck around a tribe that once enjoyed some decent support back in the days of Odyssey. This Cryptic Commander is for the Birds.

I used to have a version of this deck back from before Commander 2013 brought us Derevi, Empyreal Tactician. The deck was fun, taking to the skies and beating people down in the air with an aerial army. I had to include some less than stellar cards in order to maintain as pure a bird tribal experience as possible, and that ultimately led me away from the deck, ultimately retiring it. In recent years, Wizards has printed some birds that have slowly rekindled my desire to play the deck, and the time has finally come to join the flock once again. Derevi, Empyreal Tactician shall once again take the helm of Bird Tribal, and we shall spread the good word of bird once more. With Kangee, Aerie Keeper and Aven Brigadier as seconds-in-command, these fleet-feathered fowl are ready to deliver a Grade A aerial assault.

Decklist for The Word

So, let’s address the non-birds in the room. Emeria Angel, Soraya the Falconer, Windreader Sphinx, Jotun Owl Keeper, and Kefnet the Mindful. Soraya the Falconer’s Oracle Text states that it gives all birds +1/+1, not just Falcons… and we’re gonna ignore that second piece of text about banding (now is not the time or the place for that). Emeria Angel and Jotun Owl Keeper make a bunch of birds, so that’s enough to garner their inclusion in the brood. Kefnet the Mindful may have creature type God, but he’s a bird in spirit. Look at that head! And then there’s Windreader Sphinx. Look, Sphinxes are kind of like big birds; and, in the canon of this deck, the birds learned their mastery of the sky from the Windreader Sphinx! He is their teacher! The Big Bird to their Sesame Street! There’s a story here, and each card has its own justification for inclusion.

Now, let’s move on to the birds proper. Birds have played in some interesting mechanical space during their time as a tribe. Unlike some of the more established tribes, there isn’t anything that really holds the birds together mechanically other than Flying. There’s plenty to work with there, and we’ll get to it later, but I think the lack of a focus for the tribe makes some interesting things possible. I’m gonna break my choices down into categories and go over each one by one to explain the reasoning.

Card Advantage

There are a surprising number of birds that deal in card selection and card filtering, I’ve found. As the newest bird, and Magic: The Amateuring approved cutest card from Hour of Devastation, River Hoopoe was a shoo-in for inclusion in the deck. Having a good outlet for mana when you’re running low on cards is invaluable, and River Hoopoe is happy to help you stock back up and gain a little life. Raven Familiar does a decent Impulse impression and has done good work for me in the past. There are quite a few birds that like to loot, like Murder of Crows and relative newcomer Messenger Jays. Even Sawtooth Loon has a form of looting, as well as letting you re-buy any ETB effects you might be interested in using. Of course, the most swingy form of card advantage in the deck comes in the form of Airborne Aid, letting you draw a card for each bird in play. Sometimes, you’ll draw 2-3 cards off this, and other times… well, the sky’s the limit. Not to mention Beck // Call, letting you net four birds and four cards for one card. Honorary birds Windreader Sphinx and Kefnet also help out on the card advantage front.

Utility

I mentioned how diverse the mechanics that appear on Birds are. This is just a sampling. Nimble Obstructionist is a Stifle on a stick, Keeper of the Nine Gales is a repeatable bounce effect for permanents, and Aerie Mystics gives your birds Shroud so they can’t be picked off by targeted removal. Coveted Peacock goads your opponents into attacking someone else. Celestial Gatekeeper brings back two birds when it dies. Cloudchaser Kestrel destroys an enchantment when it enters the battlefield. We have bounce effects from Mist Raven and Icefeather Aven, we can manipulate the top of our library with Aven Fateshaper, we can save our creatures from combat damage with Gustcloak Savior. There are so many options. While none of these abilities points us in a direction, it gives us a lot of flexibility to react to the current board state and mood of the game. Diversity is good in this case!

Tricks

I know what you’re thinking. You’re just playing Cyclonic Rift because it’s a good card. Well, you’re not wrong. However, I do have a flavor justification for including it, along with Aetherspouts. You see, when all the birds work together, they can do some pretty powerful things, things like using their mastery of the wind and sky to create vortexes that sweep up everything except them and remove them from the picture. Also, I needed board wipes that left my birds alone…

Flurry of Wings does some interesting double duty as both a pseudo-fog effect as well as a way to buff up our army unexpectedly. If the player before you attacks someone else with a large force, your forces can swell to an overwhelming size in response. Cloud Cover gives our birds some protection, allowing us to return them to our hand instead of having them be killed. Then we have some small instant-speed tricks in the form of Swan Song and Path to Exile. I headcanon Path to Exile as the birds picking something up and carrying it away, a la James and the Giant Peach. Swan Song speaks for itself.

Flavor and Combos

There is some fun synergy in the deck beyond just making a bunch of birds and attacking in the air. Kangee, Aerie Keeper and Aven Mimeomancer do a fun dance to power up your whole army. Kangee has kicker for X2 to put feather counters on it. For each feather counter on Kangee, all birds get +1/+1. With Aven Mimeomancer in play, you may place a feather counter on target creature at the beginning of your upkeep. You can continue to place the feather counters from Mimeomancer on Kangee to increase the buff from Kangee’s ability. Both are good birds on their own, but the cute synergy between them can be powerful. They’re good birbs, Bront.

Then there’s the Dovescape/Portcullis combo. Dovescape is a nice little insurance policy against board wipes for our deck. We’re pretty vulnerable to mass removal, so having a way to keep that from resolving seems like a good idea. Plus, every once and a while we’ll be able to drop Portcullis as well, which does some interesting things with Dovescape. Dovescape will counter all noncreature spells and give that spell’s controller 1/1 bird tokens equal to its converted mana cost. Portcullis exiles creatures when they enter the battlefield if there are two or more creatures in play already. Those creatures come back if Portcullis leaves; but, if those creatures are 1/1 bird tokens, they never come back. With both in play, you end up with a soft lock situation which benefits you greatly if you’re ahead on board. A good every-once-and-a-while way to secure your boardstate.

We have some flavor considerations as well! The deck needed some ramp, so I’ve included the aptly named Peregrination, Cultivate, and Sol Ring along with Birds of Paradise. Some birds do like shiny objects, and what’s shinier than a Sol Ring? Birds are also a force for spreading plant seeds, eating berries and fruits and dropping the seeds elsewhere. Thus, Cultivate felt like a good include via flavor justifications. And what self-respecting bird deck would be incomplete without perches and fountains for your birds to roost on? Akroma’s Memorial and Eldrazi Monument are here and ready to be covered in bird droppings and feathers (as well as making our birds indestructible or generally hard to deal with). And, I really wanted to include Tamiyo, Field Researcher in this deck because her abilities work real well with evasive creatures. Bet you didn’t know Tamiyo was an avid Ornithologist, huh?

Wrapping Up

Add in some anthem effects for fliers, like Favorable Winds, Gravitational Shift, and Serra Aviary, and you’ve got yourself a deck! How good is it? That’s an excellent question. You’ve got quite an airforce going for you in this deck, and flying has always been a good way to poke damage through. The deck is vulnerable to mass removal, has little direct interaction, and could be very inconsistent (though, there is a decent amount of card advantage/filtering). It has weak points, sure, but that’s a sacrifice I made for theme. This is a thematic tribal deck! We make some sacrifices in this house!

I look forward to reconstructing the deck and putting it through its paces. It’ll be nice having a low-key deck to play for fun every once and a while. That’s the nice thing about themed decks: they’re just kind of fun to play and get in the spirit of. And I leave you with that!

What sort of weird tribal decks have you thought about building? With Commander 2017 coming up, what tribes are you hoping get more support? What sort of cards would fit in a bird themed Commander deck that I didn’t include? Leave comments, and I’ll see you next time!

Robert Burrows