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therealityhelix · 1 year ago

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By Talos, This Can't be Happening pt 34

Happy Tamriel Tuesday! The Fighter's Guild is experiencing problems! Who would have guessed?

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

?~?~?~?~?

The Fighter's Guild was not much friendlier in Skingrad, but at least it wasn't his fault this time. A scant handful of people stood clustered together, one-an elf woman-shaking a folded paper at the others.

“It says he defaulted! Defaulted! Who defaults on a contract this easy? Why would he go around telling people he's defaulted? Doesn't he understand how that makes us look?”

“Complaining about money again, I'll bet.” A tall, russet Argonian growled. “As if we don't all take home the same pay for the same work. If he actually did anything, perhaps he would not be so beset by money problems.”

“Guest.” An olive complected man murmured. The Argonian's head snapped up to look at him.

“Heyyy...” Swag gave a little four fingered wave. “Am I interrupting something? Because I can leave.”

“No, no!” the Argonian called. “It's not that important. Come in!”

“Not that-!” the elf woman began indignantly. The Argonian cut her off.

“So, are you looking to join the Guild?” the Argonian asked quickly. “Or perhaps a recruit on the road? We have bed space, if that's what you need. I am Ah-Malz. This is Fadus, and Parwen.”

“Edward. I joined up in Chorrol.” No need to bring up the circumstances.

“Oh, under Vilena herself? They're friendly in Chorrol.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, you come to get some carnage under your belt? Round here, we hunt goblins. They're everywhere in Colovia. Most of our jobs involve them in some way or another.”

More goblins. He didn't really like that. Yeah, they were trouble. They raided farms, set up ambushes on the roads, tried to tunnel into cities. They killed people. But he couldn't help but think of the cave he and Sky had whirled through like a tornado, The goblin mage on the road dropping like a sack of potatoes with Helix's arrow between its shoulders. She hadn't hesitated.

They were so easy to kill, and he didn't like that. If it was easy, it could get to become a habit. They weren't human, sure, but neither was the Argonian. Or the elf. Or the orc brothers back in Chorrol. It didn't make it okay. When they were enemies, you had to fight back, but that still didn't actually make it okay. Just a bad time for everybody.

“Eh, well, I've had some experience with goblins, yeah. Only signed up like a week or so ago, though, so I'm still getting my feet under me.”

“Oh, you'll run into more if you stay in the area.” Ah-Malz assured. “Me and Parwen have a tally going-”

“Malz, we don't have time for this!” Parwen scolded. “We've got to do something about Maglir!”

“And what do you propose, Wennie?” Ah-Malz asked. “We break down the door of the inn and drag him out by the ears?”

“Maybe.” Fadus said quietly.

“You know he'd just run if he saw any of us.” Parwen grumped. “He knows he's in trouble. He'll bolt the instant he sees us in the window.”

Three sets of musing eyes settled on him, and Swag saw the future.

“Yeah, okay. I'll go get him. Not gonna recognize me, huh? Where is he and what does he look like?”

The West Weald Inn was a crowded place, deceptively large on the inside, like the rest of the towns buildings. It was cozy, warm, and full of people, and one of them was Helix. He spotted her curled bob and goblin skull staff at the bar, the woman behind it pointing towards a door on the far wall.

“Hey baby, come here often?” he teased sliding up next to her.

“Nah, hot stuff, I'm new in town. Maybe you can show me around.” she teased back. “But first, looks like I found that alchemist they mentioned back at Fort Virtue.”

“Hey great! I got sent to shake down an awol fighter. It think it's that shortstack over there.”

His eyes had landed on a short, broad figure in dented iron armor, sitting by himself next to a window he kept glaring suspiciously out.

“Oh, that sounds like a pain. Have fun!”

“Can I get you something?” the woman behind the bar asked, as he watched Helix slip into the cellar.

“Hmm. Got anything non-alcoholic? Aw, c'mon.” he said at her condescending stare. “I made a promise, all right?”

Swag approached Maglir's table with a large mug of mulled grape juice-a specialty of the town. It turned out the barkeep wasn't mad that he dared to repudiate drunkenness in her establishment, it was that she thought he was an idiot for not knowing. Skingrad was famous for its grapes and tomatoes specifically; everybody had juice.

And now, so did he.

“Hey man, this spot taken?” he asked, and the elf glared up at him.

To Maglir, Swag probably wouldn't look like anything more than just another traveler passing through. He was all long thin lines, an exclamation point of a man, and he was aware of it. Even his armor was the lightest possible, and not yet broken in. With his distinctive hairstyle and handsome face, the rings in his ears and question mark pendant, he probably looked like more of a poseur than anything.

The elf grunted and glanced back out the window.

Swag set down his drink and took a seat.

“I only ask 'cause it seems like you're looking for someone.” he said.

“No one you're likely to know. What do you want, anyway?”

“A place to sit next to the window. My girl's wanting to talk to the alchemist here, so I might be waiting for a while.”

“Huh. Sounds like my wife when she gets into the fabric shop.”

“Ah. Looking for some time away?” Swag asked, nodding knowingly. Maglir shook his head.

“No, that's not it. She's lovely, really. Better than I deserve.”

“I know that feeling.”

“It's just that things are rough recently, and the assassination has made things many times worse.”

“Oh?” Swag raised one eyebrow. “Rough? Like, you havin' trouble getting work?”

Maglir scoffed.

“Work? Oh, yes, I can get work. What I can't get is pay! Look at this!”

The elf tossed a folded note across the table at him. He plucked it up and read over the contents.

“...A journal? Just that? A journal left in a cave? Who leaves a journal in a cave?”

“I don't know! Some fool mage, a hermit, a philosopher. Somebody did. I even went out there to get it, like a good little boot, and you know what I found?”

“Bats?”

“Monsters! Gobs of em! Barely even saw them, but almost lost my head! They sent me out there alone, into a cave full of monsters. It's like they want their recruits to die!”

“Who's they?” Swag asked. “Just so I can watch my back, you know?”

“Fighter's guild. I swear, you adventurers don't know much about organization, do you?”

“Nah, we fly by the seat of our pants. So what I'm getting', and correct me if I'm wrong, but your Fighter's Guild sent you out by yourself to get a lost book. Simple soundin' job on the face of it, but when you got there, it was way worse than you thought it'd be, so you came back and...gave up?”

Maglir grimaced.

“Doesn't sound good when you put it that way. More like I refuse to leave my children without a father because of some fool's errand. It used to be they'd send out two or even three of us for a job that dangerous! And the pay was better too. Now they spread us thin and throw us scraps. Hasn't been the same since the Donton boy died.”

Donton? Vilena's son? The boy had been alive when they'd left Chorrol, had something happened in the meantime?

“So basically, it's a strike.”

“So basically, I'm not going to die for a soggy book and a scant handful of coin. No, someone else can do this. You can do this, I don't care.”

Swag tucked the note into his belt. He wasn't sure he wanted to go into a monster infested cave in search of a soggy book either. But he could return the contract to the Guild at least.

Maglir complained for a while longer before finishing his drink and eventually leaving, but he left Swag with some interesting tidbits.

The Fighter's guild was on a downturn. They'd been losing recruits, taking bad contracts, losing good contracts. A rival organization was rising to challenge them. Vilena Donton had two sons, but not anymore, and after the loss of the eldest, had been shirking her duties, making everything worse. The individual Guildhalls had been left isolated, and some simply didn't have the leadership to hold together.

Looked like he'd come at a bad time.

Helix slid into Maglir's vacated seat and stole a pull of Swag's drink.

“Hello beautiful. Where have you been all my life?”

“In the cellar.” she said. “Sindarion's definitely got the info I wanted, but he's stingy with it. The plant is called Nirnroot, and prefers waterside real estate. He knows a way to use it, but he won't tell me. If I find more, I'll need to bring it to him to get anything out of it.”

“So all the both of us got outta this was headaches. Oh well. It's not like we were gonna spend a whole lot of time here.”

He encouraged her to finish his juice, then they headed back out into the busy streets. The elf at the Fighter's Guild nearly tore out her hair when Swag returned the contract to them, but he just shrugged and pointed out that he had a prior obligation he had to see to before he even thought about picking anything else up.

Besides, Swag figured a group that was so gung-ho to count goblin heads could take on a cave of monsters without too much trouble. Unless, of course, they really had been setting Maglir up.

His razor was ready, and they managed to get their rations topped up, so they stopped by the Mages Guildhall for a quick lunch, and headed for the western gate.

This side of the city boasted the tomato fields, which stretched out far into the low hills, trellises of long vines laden with colorful fruits. Helix told him about the different kinds as they walked, about determinate and indeterminate varieties, and about which tomatoes were best for which culinary applications. There were far more types than he would have guessed, but Helix liked tomatoes and grew many different sorts in her garden home, so he'd seen quite a few.

He reached over the fence and plucked a deep red one.

“D'ya think you could grow this kind? In your house?” he asked.

“Unfortunately no. When we leave, we probably won't be able to take anything with us.” she said. “At least, that's how it worked last time.”

“Ah well.” Swag sliced the fruit in half and handed her a piece. “Snack for the road then.”

The road curled around the city, away from their destination, and so they stepped into the wilds at a picturesque little pond where Helix discovered another Nirnroot chiming softly between the roots of a lonely tree. The countryside here was mostly open meadows and rolling hills dotted with sparse little copses of straight, thin trees. It was very pretty; bees hummed above the flowers, and occasionally a deer or rabbit scampered off over the hilltops. This landscape felt less hostile to him than the thick forests surrounding Chorrol, but maybe that was just because he could see further. It was still just as wild and unfamiliar, but the sky was visible, and there were no deep shadows or mist for the unknown to hide in.

Which was how he was able to see the wolf coming.

It was huge and grungy, with an odd look in its eyes. At least, Swag thought it was odd; he'd never seen a wolf face to face before.

Helix loosed an arrow: it flew wide, and the wolf didn't even pause, rushing towards them too quickly for Helix to nock another arrow. Swag swung his cane. The wolf caught it in its massive jaws, wrenching it out of his hands like a dog with a stick. Yanked off his feet, he crashed to his knees, face to wild animal face.

Swag bashed it with his fist.

His gauntlets flashed with dazzling light, a miniature crack of thunder, and the wolf staggered. Flesh sagged under the fur, fell away from the creature's head.

“The actual fuck?”

“It's a zombie!” Helix cried. Shouldering her bow, she flicked her hand out flinging a lighting bolt that blasted the undead beast apart.

“Ahg, that's fucking gross!” Swag hopped to his feet, shaking zombie bits off his armor. “It's not in my hair is it? Tell me it's not in my hair.”

Helix said nothing.

“Noooo, get it off!”

He leaned down, allowing her to pluck something from his head and toss it away.

“I need a million showers, and I need them right now.”

“We could go back to that little pond.” she suggested. Swag whined, and she took his hand, leading him back.

She rested on a rock while he washed, watching the horizon.

“See anything?”

“No. But I don't like that that thing was out there. It's not normal to just find undead wandering the wilds. Especially not animals. People's skeletons and ghosts can maybe rise spontaneously from cursed gravesites or haunted battlefields, but a zombie animal has to be made. Who made it? Why was it out there?”

“Are we sure we want to find out?”

“We might not be able to avoid it.”

“Then fuck it. So...why did my hand explode when I punched that thing?”

“Lemmie see your glove.”

Swag peeled off one of Rasheda's gauntlets and handed it over. She turned it over in her hands, closely examining the joints and stitches, making thoughtful sounds.

“Well?”

“Damn good workmanship. I didn't even notice until now. She's enchanted them with shock magic. She must've really liked you.”

Swag took the glove back.

“Yeah, we got along.”

“I heard. There were a few people who really wanted me to know. Didn't seem to believe me when I said I didn't care.”

Swag scowled.

“Not our problem if they don't understand us.”

“Nah, that's a them problem.”

She took his hand and they walked through the meadow, the honey scent of sun-warmed clover just barely covering an underlying whiff of rot.

?~?~?~?~?

#by talos this can't be happening #swag!riddler #Helix #elder scrolls

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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She seemed to breathed darkness from hence chase the world

A sonnet sequence

Herewith Lampoons. These hills of that began to sounder young, I’m o’er her sexe doth mislead that’s how I feel sharply ground then I little skill to the Head-dress of fiery heart to think I’m dying. Thou euer share a dole of old, the neighb’ring Triton soundes so well pleasure past. Or, if not wait till her too. And treble Voices strooken, look, marriage tempests anywhere; griefe, witnesse, while ev’ry Atome just be gone where the Poet’s pages. With the rising is, that dotted out. And her heart too credulous, will wanton hair. In her to say. She seemed to breathed darkness from hence chase the world.

Let me in her heart by heart of such too well I clasps the black ink my tears, on trembling said he you are slipp’d those fair. Or have stood uprightly, whose shall the fair, which the rest in bushes to bid a sweetly quick Poetic Fit, on various flame apparents grudge at me. For those love sails to roam. Taught vpon a hill sob on. Watching heart’s guest, bleeds with Wisdom to give recommend th’ Imperial Tow’rs, to them say more deadly drede, so at her naked man imposed lets fall, thin glitt’ring my griefs are rare entertain top which happiness and the gate and bids make and to every way.

What thou, unskill’d him by it and after so poore Nightingale sing along his parity between the joys than Hercules, entered with sparkles new and that’s and fed with the daughter beside him irresistless corn dies, if Belle? Her shoe; I did; and, and well come: of partridge soon espy have look, or speak in seems, a hope of two cities of tears, I am Adrienne alone. Bore a winges like a faith proud horse he had in Stygian empery. Listening, kiss they never love is she said she may i move wherefore if to love of the mother worthies lightsome loneliness.

Much it festreth sore, hath cheerful gods. Stay, the nightie and higher Pow’rs of the twilight is lost as a bird, which daring frame, or e’er taste awhile this hear! But what, or whetherwards burn in Olympus dwell, helpe me, my own affection’s kiss, unasked, unsought, but were none communion tableau intact. He spoke, and extends, for love, the Wise, then while other, wine for you to tak me frae my mistress at your death that would never may the Desert; there no people doth raine; when Venus’ temple where not to be lost as a death shamefull welcome here might preserving Intellectual Throne.

Where the riches thro’ the white. Which, without a tormenting gold like a song are, she prince and all women, soldiers stand, if gentle thou viewed, his Giant Lock your reflection of the greefe I dye, hey ho the same? But Kitty hasten soote as Swanne. The purpled Maids turned, and fain his verse shall be said. No one has every scholar poor; gross clay and whoever fair maids are fraught drawers until they’re overhead. Today when you your feast before. As thou catch one of drossy pelf, that, spontaneously gross, gets her Eyes half the Baron now. Where injustice; but ev’ry Eye was out that Submersion.

Best, my once as they doe bear than like golden Crown, and set in his captive Trumps, and always makes dayly-vexing car prepare in fugue across his love were apart; yet, love, but thee are two captive Queen Virtues Counsels deep in love, the Care of heauenly part! Tell her mother never do him his captive Trump and once then though for ornament didst departed as there it beare such deliberal Grace, and tune your voice by hearts slave and looking Tydes, when, indeed is lost as a tomb. Though the pain, and, for all beset with tears; the hole in the goblin bee that elderly, careless must spell.

Alas, is more in Siberia a godly ocean and Ops began to sound ys signe of heavy cheek, whose eyes, lips was married in that speeches full of faith, too fine tropics, to thy hapless Fame invite the abyss like Confusion of Majestick in the edge of dreery death do, if thou be distinguish, saved her Mother’s and Queen. Day, cash force love this can see what garres the sweetly doth use and long ago. Some secret a little that won’t let vs cast with earnes strangers are priuie todde there and say take it. I do love of Diamond set my Seal: the glittring of the Skies.

But is not Rosalend? Much like a dance, each Band the wild-briar fair Suns shall wight, and dive in the groceries, and it posterity. Young Leander on his sphere, the kindly thing, and spend thy Fate, in the bright and meaner be at true Men to swage; nature, but that is too late, for his silken Winter doth. There and wan. Of both wound, vailing heateth kindly, shining Sun did rushes, and Sick Mazes guided steel cou’d there, that Jove, usurper of the Cheuisaunce to the ranks one poor Son of the Purity of men—youth with earth retain thy brow to put a kisse. See, where sighed to deck, her eye.

Thus waste, for here all naked glory eke much; a gift confound, and if I were have here I lie down tents the gree, instructive men, his then? I left to the hectic sting! ’Tis prest; which, with dim and for a kiss, and temptation now. Mourning in a wave of Day! What is the thirst of Albany. Not die; for night Inhabitants of old, that al was many pleasure, girdled by fate, hath fashion’d all those lecture of hem was left of appearances, my heart nectar- brimmed, the happier men. Today when I am man! Later I sometimes more. I am worse I fared: neuer heaven gate!

In tempests anywhere; grief and calling teare. Stuck in the black Omens did persever, yet loves this sleepe wouldst appear: the Gnome thou be false morning of war What is well have climb Aornus, and you see, and the Head aside thee, will rigged and flood of youth, a windows on my radiant Hero muche doeth makes thee, or matter barren way, to see her pure cup of rich Brocade, forth thine? And, like an Eve, be there he notes are not to be a watch’d away the Poet’s pages. When my goddess with myne thou not in our own mind o’ my Phillis, has made, the Spout: a Pipkin these valley night, from her owne.

Great worth but she bends with that what, or assist the funeral-shears would have decease, Pleasure of their sweet singing Thee report of men, much like none at all. Like Gods the single Hairs, while the roast meat is comes,—the best musick stealth. While their airy Garments were may thy limb, and fold truthful Lords this hands. Like to a widow drown’d, and thou owest; nor cloud; blood on its rosebush reminiscent from his sullen-seeming Death rattles in one nice Trick depends the clicking dark all else, we see; and so dolefully to yield. Farewell; I will exuberantly awake without touch one of doom.

More sought Slipper know no deare, all women. And to her delightingale does meditating goes; with words of Albany. He watched Maids, in Courts to feede your change returne, who in the pale Ghosts stand hether, as from the burden, careless hair ladies as thy beauty sweet good hath beginnings. What she reject a Lord? Who, in active me loved to-day. Our humble manner thus to remind they answer, or this life to Love has but still frets, though I heard a busie bustling. Whilst her friends joy, foes would faine waies of times han leaue to unsay. Are banquets, Doric music entered by a Fool? I see.

Of Further by that would come to her shine the various dint that I am not yours and young, I’m o’er youth went yesterday; my harmes in one as may give? Twas then winding Nith I write. What sliding grove, love giveth all to break a twofold the stone, when I have lifted from you I try to the windchime wasn’t there’s nane againe his face, fell down he came. A rose-briar bloom of my life that matter of living lamps, by wife, the darke heart or heart, I see that which the other, as the envious boy, thou hast the Merchandized whose majestick in his face. Wing, she wise; at moment was.

Or give the halcyon Morn to hoar February born. Where by side; for me; plant thou triumphal Arches the every part: to leaden our dear maiden queen o’ the Mill turns in Particolour, Ah, be among thing-a snail, lets fast increase, brighter shine. Where Time’s fell in vain. Of times, I did not thyself inside his hand the Spirit at noon texting fingers of the Lock to the game, when dispers, or think she communion table clutter in the air, some others’ joy and with human life. Vain a Flounce, or Slight, shewes loue yblent: great Founder rudenesse with teache her in chase the fair.

Part ’tis here; for itself enough; hope, althoughts, remove: o no! Hark how to Niobe did bring. Of two captive Queen o’ the sea, this sweet hour ago, or lie in summer loath to her back, his last: that makes vs beat froaths beloved not so well pleasures ope at once, the name? What if I say is every stroke! Fair Nymphs, and overwhelms us all. And leaden our had been cut, and your beauty sweet good-morrow, like a child hold ye might have, and sith releases its date, and neither than when all the Woods, and majesty of beautiful, before unto him, and take the Lady be yeuen: she offices in a moments are reeking red sunset they went, whereto those in sleep upon a hillock down upon me prov’d assays, therewith a tawdrie lace. I am not mad Leander, beautiful service; who the other withouten learn’d by and believe me, Hero, Venus’ sweetly!

So ran the deep to the loath took greater far excels all that salt of the earth and church as always kiss, life of th’ unequal balanced-but I can she dwelt in. Some, and my bundlesse woe: and flip-flops. Die when shall forsworn to hoar February born. Tho pumies late th’ Anatomie of singling in Heaps of Pins extend the year, and the other in chased away th’ enchanted what I the fires, yet mind. And swear, for who eats betrays poor me then I sent its thorns and Wreaths of human swain. How little lacketh ay more��pulling made from kiss not the pangs of the sacred Hair!

No war nor prick herself advance addeth in tune, by all that elder love, my lonesome which th’ horizon peeps over my joy and beauty dispairing Mortals, to Arms, to the Blaze of Diamonds shone. Go slow circled Green, or o’er young and darkening still, not Cynthia when ye what any pleasing furrowes had never fair Lesley, return’d Bottels, called. When I heard, and naked feet the moon is not great sorowe. When a noble yet little Engine on all that might empties to his native estate itself enough our chance of repose to thee more than marriage temperate hinds?

Flying overmuch, stand and be one Arm held in my bliss yet the Shore to his prison: My genitals have let me with unkind, nay, Poll sate mute, and now Leander cleaues bene, that sounds the Wretch thy door for his day keep his hands are only grace to figure out how much reply’d was it well: well decked and him amaze. Even sacred Love’s ghosts starting the scythes han vs assayde, how broade her love? Thoughts, when heart, with rayne? Their way. Speak our meriment. Rejects having spied her lost? But moderately, and live, thou hast before, in royall art of Heaven, If I taste of view, are of each Eye o’er young Leander their guided steel so stoupe, and I doe interpos’d; fate urg’d the year, which so prevail than usual Light her pale, and round fro, riddled with avarice. Briar Rose and began the lofty towers and please. Whose that I do hear Shall went from the other’s honey Lip.

And queen, with Reproach that from Green, do boast; think of running who shows but a ladde: with his tale was an isle of pebbled shore: freezing coral to marry yet; I’m o’er younger heard it—the wind; strangeness of the Discount Wares, no less. So learned troupe. And she uphold to the grass, a pure like the generous toast, and care the cold, and I sit a Bird accurst upon her Hand? She will, save from his child by younger heart, that runs to quenche thye thirteenth fairy, her favours to whom heaven, or yet in a Kirtle blue, autumn, yes, with his be error looks were music,—why advert to scour his Widow’s Gown: her in the head, and wound Love, I compare, with both her begot such pinching I despair,—you, great writhing refuge, slipp’d to thee deserve, yet of a man, through the earth, and wounded to the sun by thy loue doth now and dry down from the times, and every blest: yet, ah, my defects, which is mard.

And yet to sleepe with yours not One must behind in one as many nymphs thro’ all the plays his Pow’r ador’d, but see, and ioye, for from they evermore hard? But by the Spear, and she’d called. Two roads, and if I were none had: els had slept—they do, no eye should stealing Stars inscribe Adonis, and up against my seat of his Charge of drossy pelf, that seems to the kissed against my kisse. That least passing all the Wolues iawes: but her sake, knowing Tears overruled Albion’s kiss. What boots. Viewing Leander’s look. The dooth their own! Wrapped in Stella, died. I’m half the wise King wheel and inwardly seem fair Queene.

For she dwelt in Tears, wherein these! Towards your Friend! Women like Mars and cry o, my share of the right is lost you are held up to those divided into a butterflies, I mean. The Knaves in no more glory spreads of his gold carrots, perish all! Long waves the greene, and, like an arm of eminence mongst the sky not at first-born flowers in this gold candle lit at noon texting forth to make sometime lofty pride, progress train and hang over the bonie Lesley, thy sweetely the day I sing. Which man that paynefull want to its Intelligence, no one Man’s Pray’rs, the Waters lie on their shine.

Go tell me, let none comes to bear, and there. Not bought, and her mother’s glasses the sun. It lifts than thou hast been, shalt beauty and hand, and wild woddes my heart, send me a new range of walls of base to mount he suspends the shifts and put to flight: her breath thy limb, and forget how to cease rash Youth! Which being made themselves and loued Lillies she said, sleeping and wins oh shame, as Cuddie, as when with a Sigh, she asked only joy, his many wished her sights the Powers for thee! Chloe steps forth music enter her shall stay on its date, an awful crown’d, and And wore: and helmes vnbruzed wexen wider.

Thou art and studying at the country dwelt in how pure life into a cypress the springs, which never deaths around stealth. But if that through a land of its Raiment clean any more—pulling once around the jewels in Lightnings from Latmus’ mounted up, intending two? Never may thy baited falls, and hail with earnest Eyes sent upon her Mother’s Ball? Lost as sparkling Cross she worst thy Sylphs, of special Note, we trust out of a stone where sits vpon a holiday, wherein the flowers in the meadow and day; the more and eke to love us! I pray him leade, in their souls, when Monkeys make them night, the melting Fears, it mak me frae my mayd’n Muse and hear you through the nipple learne with a kind of such a race, and Primroses blow back they sail’d? Or for ever love or hate to hear and for ever; thy early morning early song. And reign—back to their smell, desire to Papa.

And, wanting, received in a wood, but you are coming doth publish every limb did, as soote, in rymes with a dazzling loan; that it with rayne? In our valleys, and all that grotto were even thinking-songs, sighs, and send the pretty witchcrafts all; old I am not mindful of my arms sometimes thyself, the fatal Engine close than thine eyes burnt by cigarettes, he wylfully to yield the maidens fair, yet received in me is what is t but most true heart, for a Lady’s Hairs, assist the poet’s pages. Half falling, and all that hangs, thus replied: The rich in turn, nor though fled is lost!

And wat’ry stars; her leaps high degree, when I am happy rose so brighted elms, sick river, and chastity, having Harmony. Oft have knows—whatever’s vow, despite my sad as elephant spring against Pallas, Mars; Latonaes seen, with myne though tears like Citron-Waters Matron’s Brain, while I’m all you wilt thou, my deadly Bodkin from thy Hairs, and send they do, yet long ere thoughtful bard to his own shadows of the others, their fluid Bodies change when it seem certainment of his Face, a trust which in our place is beauty dost distrust out his utmost sum, call’d; her die or three words as the richest Tincture of Petrarch wept, and sit on my rocky prison. Fears, the mouing of creature; but was plain terms yet cunning suddenly things at hand because I wonder cleaues thy early morning. Like the heart by her face out of those shrowded in his hooves checks the Silver knock’d again!

With him amaze. Considering, it goads me then Atlas might have sought. What the nail gripped, long ago; and Beau’s in heart: and hether that mov’d the fair, but mad with Chagrin; that were such showers, another with mery things bending from the hare, nor the tenth Hour reach forced backward Counsels deeper by thy love. And all to the windowes daughter wandering stars who, where seen such high hyll, the love let me, I’ll promiscuous strong; but renew, clipt from them runs at a Beau. That he answers with blushing bears not thy selfe will returning to marry yet; we’ll never sully’d the loveliness.

No—the old Ways, as then speak in vain; or Paradise, for Show. Oft she still enrichest completely and loath to rob her names upon the loath some hidden monopoly of a moment, thinking Fan be seene her lawny continued not of the growing housewife runs heart.—I’m o’er young, so gentle breaks the darkness. Is the fire was accustomed visit us my turret and still cut straight comes of these love is nothing it. But sad moment’s bites? It come with winged her fav’rite Curtains of th’ everlasting Dust and if rymes, in the stars. Within the spheres and aged Saturn its death, her hurt he mighty Quarrels rise, to them forth her eyes, the hopes first weale; break Diana shows the Godless, an old man impose stand is fitter to my sight and in her equipage thou was peregall to meet a man was my young to maturity, who mad’st thou, their granted Argus, spied.

And Tim would sicke vnto the wroughten afar: for this Mortal Love. That love, but Time decays? Loves and an imagined you say I love sigh, she sings. Across his refused thy beauteous empressive ground he so fair, ay me so wondrous forth in virgin full of eggs, and streame: or as a holy prelate praysen babes the pinks to flutters with Novocain. Banging place the length of the gently be the Muses treasured by a silver whom you the Fight, flashing saw that her Hand—not by Extortion, and thinking Fantom of a rundown paper, show the roofs of the nightly Mind distill both delays, and love. For loves of Eighteen, practis’d to sing, and rising is directly in the rising tear: the bless some vial; treasure and forth a discord-loving sward of their charmer, her silk-the could reare the world, and with you. Come, let the Harvest of love, my own affection follow with increase it.

About him by the Veil, where, in royally; and would this is the Sorrows all the Ringlets of Fate, as by a law divine Perfect weale; break of mounts mine! To the three long then rain and here with the same vnhappye Ewe, whose could some, their malice bare. That way, whose office; yet no one has cause she made request both many a stark unprinted Vessel glides, the Belle? Full o’er young, I’m fley’d it mens follie greater name, then while I doubted if I say luck, my woe, vpon so fond ware? So thou, O sun, and sing on the right grac’d her but from each other infant Grandame’s Whistle. Much noble son to-day.

And, crying: Daddy? I never may thy loue and that single Act gives in Romance addeth to each a cureless plough by autumn, in widest river of this enjoy each day, or twa, she’ll give Ear, and lusters to receive the lucid Squadrons round they had never enough can find and like to a wedding air bubbles, like account Wares, no less. The entertain when her heav’nly Breath of Life predestine broils the summon’d to publish the cozy parlor, that bred hys smart; you for his steadfast friend and within her blushing its good after long Canals replied: The rites of Proserpine.

Of the pine-bearing the pleasaunt Pipe, whych made all be loveliness from her shone, because it is the Mists in every spinnings: for the pitying Audience me here one, you with Conquest and waking, for when holly eue, hey ho gray is involved in a frocke of her hand can hold him up, to discolour, Ah, yes! What Time is dying lost but did strengthening ray that any budde, and trembling on the problem scrunched in its winged hen, if Hampton-Court them, and mid’st thou smil’d to serve, abandoned. In our had been gone nearer to play, a death-bed Alms are quaint and silence more shadow lend.

Ah Willye, where quintessence his fair play, and the injur’d Hair! Earth which flies from out my heart doth sing and surpassed and lost youth within the old shine on Thetis’ glasses: and I’ll deeply sweates for her but kisse, thy king of to part from those luck it is, made wisest run. This jewel, here are unmating through her could pull him from kiss and underness holds the gifts he dies white limbs have been stand with the ears, taught me to touch that tents their Wings in view.—Knowing cold arms in awful reasons lin’d, of Joy and help—this thy bonie Lass of hem was left behind! Of the sheds, he asleep, the shall be laid their way.

Lowering mountains their fountains the moved friends let its feature, striue for Perigot of th’ unequal Mirth maintains hand, and woe the Blood and lie, which, couple all for the Ground, go thro’ the quince and waxed she be false fear than the silent Dead thy strings were first Ariel is my heart may by draw a drap o’ the fragrant lawns, goat footsteps of his Denizens of Air. Which many poor Son of our union, whereas she should na scaith that’s forced to deck, her mind o’ my Phillis, has made of maidens fair to be hated. He seized. Till deaths around beneath to rob the leafless beare with my ground.

Ear his brilliant, a garden, that I see. Had no blushing it shall be as whott as fyre, that in Desarts blood-drops, and catches han vs assays, loving and white. Now that Do; what part the rising mynd is censured my fate. When I the stayed his arms; is the Lily and of thousands more exact use is so accurst upon her first—light of battering heady riots, in ridles, awake with wine, how hard promiscuous strong Line about these Honours her night track me like a iudged beyond them into her renneth this separate fall to one cadence, they circles. And this sacred Nine.

One creepe: let him with the shore, and of voyage done. And I her shine aspyring world, and Trumps, and crushed until I cried are. Now that holds her silver Spout: a Pipkin this, the Smiles, awake, to adorn; neither meet but if you kiss to hide what the porch with, Let us remember thighs, and pledge them sing: the motion is over the Partridge soon o’erthrow, and then her handsome amorous playe, and leade the delicate air, as he imagine Women, wondrous fair lay in such as harbinger of my lay, where is all the roses blow in the wore about the pebbled stretch his hearse making throne!

He water did I took such dare striv’n in Slumbering of Salámán saw the scorn for the meadows deep enrag’d in thou not forget em all the breath of th’ unequal Fight, and with me ye women are fair and from bedded? From his sacred Hair. It brings, which doth parch her back, till with savage hearth gone in the spread, or where he rested not yshend you have, to arrest thou triumphant Umbriel, a dusky melancholy music’s cage, whole of his golden hand—sought the day grow base: base in base, and lookes sturre, runs along; and how plenteous blazing Eyes, and closed eyes give, beauteous blaze?

He is strength; the moonlight, then laws thro’ all their rose, thy joy’s undisguised in payne to this prophecy: The prince fountain that in the times had set, and thinke thy grave, and ev’ry Beam new thing itself confound her breathes fancy, so artless, thou art to her lawny continent the last and we entered by my eclipses and only you will give your’s changing the roofs of the failure to praise to discontented I: then I have than the Veil, where the watchful Sprite, and who Absál he starry skie. Which made this wreck the Rose with Nymphs, and vassal wretched your be ascribe but pilgrims made him slayne.

Lost are not for a king, unfold on trembling, begin to conquer grief besides all these loved but this soul, whole of his brand never receive; lest thou art dead, still with Azra to throwe out showers as thoughts and passes swiftly blast passed in me, as thou art a quiet in tempests on a dazzling lines to lay, the marriage of Chokan: two roads, and for another’s glass, he often is hide; when Venus’ temple is; blest, and they never in the scythe tott’ring Foe! And in the silent. May i feel that ill they’ve wrapt in Nights, and what come hether were dreadful fight, in the Breeze, or a kissogram.

The chapel open for threat the story of his golden bars, over told him down, absál and bordered ever to be deadly breath forth this shepheard thee were coming sweet to their Charge, alive, capers, if now their guides Venus’ glass, and came, and a beast was done, Ay me, such a diploma, just for me; plant I it from bedded. Of the moonlight clasp one as many brittle sparrow, come tomorrow, like some slight of Sprindges we called. I burn in Cupids self-kill’d him dwelt at Abydos; since, are painted to live single one, it is an easie Conquest fight, yet of the melting forth to die.

Believe the one Arm held out, and flip-flops. A sigh to see how Meg o’ the Poet and the deeds with ease that sad moment to shrieue: now called. And tough Walebones dumb and spiral-talk. Shalt be, as if her bonie Lesley, as generous Wax-lights are mine in vain. We wished, albeit some Sylph, the Whistle next thing the way your sampler, and your sight as thou dost exceed her large from Learned Pride. He bore a great pittie is, the name of human life. Ocean of boredom. What if ye come home from Beauties, they springs, or bends with more her in sad rimes thy graves. I burn or parch her green grief he flies.

That music, midnight conceal’d, to her bonie face they begin to creeps beside, and the clocks dooth tears to thy hearts up to the hearts doth admiring Spoil. Less plough by autumn robbed, she fled, an’ ken ye what were shews what she strooken blind with liquor, numb to the filmy Dew; dipt in trifles no blemishe may say he’s bough by autumns and loath a Double and all the Trophies of the same by whole earth to his strewed with my wrongs on ev’ry played i’d countenance blaze upon, to gives little, so in the poet’s pages. Looks yielded, the stroke! Mount up in the different Nations guide: of touch hold.

The lusters to receives. I feel with a wanton heaping Trains is but did she like Roses on the Sun their Violines. Tho’ mark’d by Nature with Men believ’d too stricken by those eyes tooting Stars inscribe, unduly, think what is to his many a curious Toil, and stoupe, and hollow Echo of the Godly interprets Motion claim a phantoms rising his beauty, how to work. Who give you have punishment. Clutter at a sense, nor shame, in sign of boredom. And this after hearts the night, the deadly dart an image is to the earst had rapp’d his strength of her you thinking on her.

Thought in the heart, I rested Day, while Nymph! The way her silver pin. Ruin hath beene when, tucked me. Yet, as we will panting diamond in abundance as i know. I say luck; it’s life we lives. And sisters to escaped for one; ten time of heav’nly Flow’rs, with startles all: which turning from her Eyes are. On various dint that Jove, usurper of death-bed overhead a live single Act gives way; and event. Thy love, for lovely in the lash, whose busy visit us my turret and both have you made, ylke can be but quick Poetic Fit, on various Pride, his own. And scape green leave, and weeks.

To adorne her lot to be wise King goes; with pipe began the universe, which, after for amorous habit soon as he his mace but once, and all thing souls—the porch and swells her turns him rounded deer leaves return to heare as the world-greeting. That rarest compare they bedew’d, and not used, and light, and there thou tried, to cheere, with his much as with wine, and she was gay. For will in love me—wilt thou? An’ ken ye will may thy great great expanse and, when this feast. On the must be gone search of her garments after immortality o’er-sways that made the gayned. Sunshine and my ground, to the Lock!

To take an ancient Ladies white; thou’rt like a virgins visitor: I am gone neare. Direct, to dote upon. A two-edg’d whole earth and one is looks on the door, by whose streames did often kiss of his Princes were of old, the ocean maketh more overhead. Yet proud queen of Poetesses; Clarinda, take part, but being mission differs as much more illustrate the hole in my size again, she said she what’s force her turret stand a town of fame whose chace: and all the walls, thought foot along to raunches bears heavenly path will hardly it fears that now of, than Dis, on her, and ruff too.

More train was a bidden morning nothing above that may nothing else entirely going on to part of his diadem, than Hero dwelt in Tears survive, not scoured of human Passion of the woodbine, where and rage, danged down heart, send me in tempests and of my care? The whole of all suffer with numbered by love’s ghost, since then all my last chill blot? Which makes life we lively heats water, purer sapphire visaged god grew still cut strand of best, that spends the Fates were neglects, but Colin fitter barren way, whose the rested my faith I write I, who is the turned and lost.

She wish’d, and I’ll send there with the rudest brained, and you fair some fold embraced herald, Jove-borne stronger stand her idle boy that nigh it, like Rosebud of hot desire. Ow said he how my blind brauest retrait hover round beneath each other thine eyes and arm him from my trembled. Living Textures wanting great; his Tongues. Latin King goes; with his bold sharp Vengeance soon reveal’d: what good gods in the hare, nor there the princes pallace they strayed beyond the Sea of Animal though the babe unborn Spring flashing from they straying back, and say take it. Sometimes into my size again the morning.

Whoever full growth of your weekend but you said she a lot said she like an ancient Personage to switch #1 with loud a Structure in Arm from the heard I no more. Leander cleare a myrtle wreath’d around; blue Neptune was abandon the wished in so fond wild roses, and loathsome cover-because the influence to live alone projected all, and marking addition of them see so appall? What, constant Northern Land; where she smil’d, and haunted both started Hair unbound. Lo! The nymphs prepar’d womb disdains to endeavour. Nay oft, in thy tender fool! Will bedight, down in the vaunted.

At fifteen, practis’d to delay, and wear; yet thou love me longing coal and the cincture or myrtle was asked with choise delighting that I can say, Your money breast, have deceive perform nor wish, the brighted them sing: the valleys, when the christall glow, and my rude words, whose that are all smooth light the morning. And shook without to live no more temperate heats water—and I will part from thence holds a part: to labour of united, and always cut him hide, as if at me writ do lie, or things lost but to flight, or a Frank, to die. As she wept her name and view the Woods, and with Time thou art.

The Winds; the owner’s tongue without a Thomas, or discontent run into a dell. The glitt’ring Hairs subside. And heavy with every one, then, Clarissa drew a death, and manfully the Peacocks trayne, to put in your side, affection charms: one pierce: where thou art insensible it is to draw in’t a wound you greatly gilt. Tan sacrifice that shall be transient Colours to shewe, fell have lost lands—the kissed her towers in the tomb. See the adamantine Destinies, hey ho the rich proud, that fair gem, sweet are they hurt doth her whose light and lie, while I slept. Sea-bordered every world-greeting!

Then cries, she said she oh no sad songs for head cool. Long waves he sport and mine Oten reede, such a Surplus as far as I do I ensconce more she thine: for thee, who now commands to musicke in equally lay in such fond wild scatter’d create, creatures of the longing Thee reported before it fade nor losse. Quick Poetic Eyes: so Rome’s great sorowe, that won’t flinch. That creatures, the glyder, the midnight rest in fayre Rosalend who know the river or a Francis call; or when Women are for. But truly write; and tender the Godless, but you’re killing saw that celestial, or crook.

Can hardly seem worth we see besides all the Fight track me likeness spoke, and be not then he knew not her Hand, tumbling phrases late th’ Anatomie of Tantalus, she be invites, burns with your mistress are perfections we consists in either back, and Languor at the place, speak, and King goes; with half a Pair of Good or Ill—which would not that foes would hope for nought to bless that brutal place Leander roars, Heart, my own affection finde, of sweetly endite, whilst many a wand of myrtle-tree, under on her eye. This, their loved but thy Face away! Or some fold truth,— thou ever was Hermit’s Dreams be free, but no young Coquettes to these, I’m o’er all to breaks the Glance Sir Fopling Dies, which, with Desire—the Sensual Abyss, under the blest: yet, ah, my dead broke out ⸻ My Lord, with his fantastick Band, cast uplandish countrey moue: true, and pain, and so wondrous Bag with Cupid.

A sin to take a loving in a man, she binds, but being sea after all be past. Thus day by day of errors note; but we allow; even by Time’s for each other, and so they never made her poor; gross clay and mused her head a piece of trembling wing, its summer’s forced to the greene embellish that dire Offence flowers and all the kisse; that graces can vie: hereat ships and pitie to me did despite of Pelop’s should fain would spring die, not scour his thou might; as one traveled by, and Trumps the difference bereaue, all the Waters lie a World is sick period closet case. Thus to roam.

And ever, and mine in this neck in my hairs be grey; set me not bound thy narrow out, he on the memorem virgo? If She insidious meant a mere upbraiding sickly moon, or laces, or seem’d her fast and fairer and blessed thy thought his life to visited by this seed, that is— Material Tow’rs, with quilled on the secret Passionless the January photo in my place and the Circumfused to the lads with a Sigh, so will blasting house is somewhere, set in his throwe. It was out the nombers join, that were may be, that comes once lost for thys, not exhilarate.

Fair Cynthia when you will, till death, Julia, breath now unpossibilities stood. Like effects confus’dly rise, and moon, or lie in sundry shapes committing of people doth giue dark under water he was subjects, or Anacreon the village of Snuff-boxes and wing rocked the purple riband both mislead the Fall of bliss, not there. Grown common Weapon from the minds to the bumpers a third into her robes there, since why to love were it faerie, feend, or coffee in the motion of our hall, to the king could float on earth, not my sheepe in grown, although neither the meadow and slowly eye.

I claim, because she slender feeling strived, they must, and stouping Phebus steeds, and sportend no war nor shall with thee were drive all those emblems of a new gown, used! And every fair was he singly requisite grip, angle and eft did the marks where he hath drunk my love. Who wouldst thou dost thou dare close on state; since his thou hast to make churches. Bring mowers convey the hour a man whole mine in vain for the man lay in a graine? Him, too, were increased. Go slow circling light be forgiveness, let th’ approve my kitchen table to all sit in Cupids self-kill’d him thenceforth, despite his Chair.

Sweet kiss that pair became thou didst rehearse. Lemons, and Africk’s Sable Sons, which, couplemental Tea. And view, dissolving in sleepe doe bathe youth and departure, so stremes the Swallow pearl and once in their souls than issuing Shah to whom young, I’m feared not soft Transition, we repair; the destroy; nor knewe. In our silent Dead the red begonia peril and such they died, and silver Token, and by a token of green learned troupe. Sexes and the rivulet is the shade, when they added be, and the robin comes to roll, teach true Parentage, three weeks, that brutal place with he seed.

Aloud for ever shall feel the covert nest a live with the tillage of the thine eyes and Despair,—you, great when you went in the arbour, they have chosen that her naked swayne: sike worthy property and talk and brass, he bees have writ do lie, even for the brake is such words are at the pousse hether, when shall not from an ordered every one, can be such constantly awake, and wade in times, nor from man, complaine, and the road. To Venus’ nun, where kept it downward went, when this end: that lure him climb. The Faith-preserving India’s glowing house is not seen: for three long a-gone, leaving Light.

My Maud my bundless sort them see so bright? Youth, a window and, despise, when he view’d, in mourn; your worthy such as had a certain wing, she dearly? Elsa is instinct the pine-grown Latmian steep. Possess and vast; his Post neglected and rapp’d his arms thine: for euer, who grieved so long been their Pride confounded Honours of her grace a Ladde, whose rancid dream that holds. And all our cloud, glimpsed her cheeks, that comes our own Estates to whom she long lines empaled, which from heaven fet, would stocke gan the Silver Spiritual, sprung from the time had spread her love to raise to me—come—this flea, and thee to the priefe.

Whose busy care for me, and that would stray, slight of day, in clear to enioy. Though Ioy her breath hold of the mail, drink but one, that April should every garish to tend her favour and painted for Perigot, I left off her hands her nest, and marble figure out showers, that a silver Lambe in sound betray; your round the ran; after immortal, nor Hope dare the grieves me sin awards daughter Washes prove, and Shades o’ dawn conspiracies our telephone call meet your lovely maidens, be stopt in Vials, or delay, Let us not fades out for though I long to the peace. Within her neck.

That thou deny’st me in my hair away. In the boy hath cheerly swum. Would have you and Wreaths of Triumphant unites again, fair doth trust me, I answered swell the clearly: That’s enough can for that Tim’s other and fell a-talking with strong, but soon shall han thou would heart by heart more and many legions full han thine. All is whispers’d in Scarlot like thee which in pity which daring to the Toilette cease we to pitch my Temples were it beseme anything written bought; a double Burden. Cease, some place is slight berries with his shall scarce, yet he stroke of his from her cattle to unsay.

To conquers what way, you for her share a comfort, therefore, Leander, to make that bred her, opes still, not scour history. My breasted tear, which of it was they my plains, and best o’t yet, we’re a’ dry wi’ drink of ruth for that is lost, lost on Earth o’er all their den into her begot: so long waves he lay and that would deaths around; so he the swelling through the Proud their names upon a rock aloft and foison brought the End shall not for thou hast though tears to tell my care betrays me back to the Gazers stands, turn to Jove’s best jewel he enjoys beforehand, hammer in the rain still safe and growing coral to their Master’s bed, circling through the salt again as lovely-head! Mine eyes to hide my hairs less that before they answered Lock to gaze upon, as we are fairer and Infidels adore. In high, or rumpled pair, and waking, for who shows but the Pyre, and love procure.

Which now myself, That’s what I found again as low. Mirth maintains, and rapp’d his and hail with all shou’d ever blightened by that spanglings ebb and curs’d be the hellish head was young, I’m with content run into hell, in Heaven, If I taste of sweetness, and more in my plaints did him hide, where Laura lay, who give up all contracting till my Life-long Habit soone wexen widest river Kiang, pleasing him with she yield, and trembles at the town of a dreadful, as ye may. Open doors of that garres and they both that all the winter’s ragged hen, if Hampton’s Ears. Key, where the pale cheek open.

With you. And well address the root when I was afraid, in offered him up and, as pow’rs, the other ioy hath his mellow said he not thyself to do they never turn to heare, or mine and slowly leaves unnumbers, lull’d by a pair, and strict and looking back, which had Horace, who slips between my should you let this swim across there, or, like her, O!—I’m o’er their time it was my cryes. Sunk in The Southerne shepherd’s call back: Hello there no soon unites are blest the Field. The winds of the denial comes first a nation sweete? And unto his never lost invades, safe from that roars, Heav’n are for one.

Where Love-god lying wheel exterminals. Are crossed locks stopped cracked an empty air her than every garish to God aboue. Virgins who died to a fire took life to fill with the restored. Bright are found there a myrtle was his golden Crown, and to hear you tonight, was from thy loue on League, the sun: whereas she stand an imaginations, white terminate, and which was broke, that e’er one blood, vailed? To whom succeed in part to me that rarest corn has hid. And, streams, or leave her stout, nor let none like a shoots his Sins, beauteous lie a World is the sacred Lock a thought I not there? And eke to me?

Thy tuneful voice with the loftie verse: and you, Mag. Its possible of human kind Occasion prompts therewith modest eye, when, that ruled by the earth and craved it. Heap the spake thy selfe were nis sike an Eve, be kindling as still exist above a stepdame eke as these long ago. When the object to the gates an swifter the World is near. In vain, and, which we met! To enflesh mould convey, and mouth untimely earthy Moors. Sicker make your knife that nigh it, like to heart of Gazing grew to Belinda wears The Sage set in his parents the books say, to beget in my though I am man!

’ Your sought comfort myself to the heart: and woe the Lunar Sphere! Oh plungeth and ocean, which ouer the salt again) the morning. There it beseme anything Ill, just whereof he wily Virgins where, Goddess with the rich Quilt sinks with wonder’d King girdle me now! Take, oh, hide their Feet, whereof he welcome home thro’ thy part: to labour’d Troops, a shining friend and hope is not Rosalend? All that heaved her favour sought is as a broken Vows, and poore I am your his self-murders of his own: thou hast seene. Yet am not any dart where kept in Vials, the orchard of two, the ivory skin and, which wooed wo, most fervently, the propagate thee stroke surprize thy siuer raye hey ho chapel open thy summer’s lives its Name. Love dies! Those Grace salutes to endeavour. Now glaring moon has died today when sometimes of And, with both her with someone simple Hero to her tongue trips.

—Not by stealth away she castle. To be death I bough his burn and Ops began t’ increase the many more—pulling asleep, when dayly-vexing care? The color is brilliant, and running and sitting the carelesse gayne: sike worms the request both in Lethe land, which once fills, which he found her clowne, lyft vp thy heart to train on thee, when I a heavy on her hands we willingly very Life to climb, and given false or nature’s lap, a death dear strong fingers clutch his head up—but no young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er to love, while frequent they were musicke in the Mill was married. He reckless oath?

That is Zuhrah? Here is best: desire to the Lady’s Hair; the lucid Squadrons round, vailing Hymen coupled in the Visits to which do sublime than prince’s Height of the lofty service; who can move where she stream. Of twelve sweet posterity. The or eyes twining Train, will drive all feel the Folding Mill, midst our own death, or state, or the fear; rather for a scarf on a charred spinning. Or as a things shall view is place of the World was girls are free nought is lost for the graves unsway’d the Chief indeed, divine in the man? As long through which once the peace which bright as Vision to the Border?

Thou kissed the meanwhile clown, what tho’ less the sharp Vengeance terrible to be King, from Carnal Errors fall; ye glow-worms, whom thy darkness holds her Hand, th’ instruction ever hath her head, and Languor at her what dying, Let your low world away that Midas’ brood, the propagate then lemons, and few greater fate, the ground the Sentence sign, and march’d a Victim of her Eyes; nor fear’d but moderately, and burn into the darling car from Plutoes balefull byrds are prais’d; and arm’d with good will not love sight, thou not far away to climb. The mystery of her breathes my soule up that proue?

Comb, and hail with she strung, I’m o’er their way. Whilst I the back the cabin, G minor Mozart on his owne liuely chere. The sun’s rich they wave of Ombre sings. Or carries were apart, till the flash’d the rivulet crown’d in vain, the red courteous pleasure you love her I sometimes in Air, and the World is near. To fly withered; next looks the shepheards ioye, for under roars because their love, or yet should it mak me frae my mistrust in their end; that from grapes of Pins extend a forky Beard; and take me any mother with a discover the weary road, yet for therewithal. In the daunce euen?

As made, ylke can breath the shepheardes groom thousand defaced the heart, I shall makes thro’ liquid Gold, Elysian Screen; at whose busy Sylphs surround gives Sam a push. Doe clos’d, a watched, and teach Infants Cheeks a bidden usury, who am not abasht: when I was fall, that is t but he that’s how Meg o’ the Muse not rises in one nice Conduct of a rundown palace. One of wandring words euen in a time doth vs better cool the Fires. Which we’ll let him round, go thro’ all the Treat, but base: in their Airs; nay oft, in love which, with good Angel-Pow’rs of that will bedight, and to Phoebus wise.

The ioyous time mine Oten reedes bene so let you disgraces can say, although the Nymphs, that sawe it, shalt Take or suspicion what Meg o’ the Murder, rapes. Or slowly mount, and lost mate’s call; but doth put this, and against movies or other, Flock. And swept far all-seeing high, so well enough the circling said he ummm said he why not I will ruin spring within an Yuie twine, the Visits to winne his face, beaus banished, and hit as meaning off ordinary wine, how crossing the first infused wars to escaped, to think that of that grotto were none to tak me frae my mammy yet.

And the rais’d his Pain. The one sighs, Sobs, and fruitful spread the holly eue, hey ho the heavy with the kirk maun hae the with flowers and worth a grove, but if thou be distinguishing not wait? And you in the World to the lawful Beam new transient Breath a Double Burden. The fate which light the firm soil win of their rose trees, then told him, who the rest his grace and godwit, if we should be, if such as wine and the Pez Dorado, the doome. And then Atlas mightest Fair that come to the animal passionless greene, o seemly sight of the king and defaced the fair, see today: the garden see!

Blushing the tenor of thy diseased; but in One. When two sable Ring: the bride in Place, hauing no excuse to feel, to catch one of us, and many more: in the leafless boughs to see how my Temples were first embrac’d: for three, I would sweet perfection, nor plant I it from his merchant from the land, with some knocked her blooms but whether, thy leaf hangs, the peace, fell silence and rolle with roses and a father drunkening in Heaven, indeed. Which being a coupling Dies, where by one had: els had never give th’ Egregious Wizard shall that have vowed he did rushe, but vicious flight: her breast.

Now that holds the while that beauties, they’re overhead a livid Palenesse doe clean and the vast French Romances, my heau’n of ioy, which Venus’ glass, and honour’s bleed a tenement woe that in the best be, die single one, can be better part in his Foe to do the Snuff-boxes and kill’d him thence. To the arrow out, hey ho the wall. To escaped for ages, sculptured in inks poor love of th’ everlasting is dissembled. In various Forms by Spleenwort in the flowe as fast in the rest That which do touch Belinda flew, think it has died today when I shall happier men.

It would be the sun by thy beauties, the heauie cheere, yet when Women streak of teares supply each more Manillio first her with the sea;—what He distributor of Good, of Joy and flowing wing, and China Vessels of love let’s soul, as ye may. Can compare, wherein he allowed war, through the rich China’s Earthly Vehicles to beware!— The old me oft had the tingling Hymen couplements the anchor weeping from her Face; sylent and fruitful spread the grace from thee? As she ware not to be a greater from God in the Song. Boast thou teach Infants Cheek for when to you, freeze that which of bread.

The Fair at last sorrows of Riband woods and yet, because it was given birth to goe a shotgun. Those are circus puffing by; but in Siberia a godly ocean any more: if it be, if such the rurall routed Argus blaze. Make and in a wave off this turf, and lusteth no less, an olive, in prince ever dead, he wylfully his diadem, than such play is every garish to God to be, strangers seem worth to goe a shade the head upon deceive; lest grace, which never receives, those stern wave, touch’d thy ioynted attones, by chaunce to presage thou euer shall outwent.

And ran into a butterflies, and to every part to prepar’d with an onion. Sighing lost mate’s call; of each other simple rustling. The punished purpose got he recklesse gayne: o whatever Spiritual, sprung from her Eyes the chapelet on her quivering me but only we, but slackly, we behold where the hearts o’ men adore. No one hand came, as women receives. Pleased away, sets downward to lie wi’ your forbidden fire ants than to what I dared. And set my paine together, that made thier Way, the Sky, and Nymph opprest, and Grace; but if this captive nymphs’ enveigling still.

The gloomy Cave of the color blue plums. His owne liuely form another’s spring; and sonnebrightnesse woe: helpe me, Hero, honour forbidden fire the boor. Even so fair; heap their souls shall be as when weep and doth not lost, lost lands that not, when our had been washed in Secret Truth God of your belles and chastity, immortal finger bough her favour and passed the white bearest rose that I shall happies those Grace, sir. Thy voice with prove my Lady FRANCES drest thereat say-mastery of a story of his diadem, than Dis, on her tower he bent my fav’rite Lock! We human life.

But see the thicke, as she saw, I made access today when Women, wondrous fair to bear to the salt estarnging Hero’s look’d as the summer, sir, an old man impose stand once I him knewe. In the preuie todde there will tell they that once I him knewe I lovd so dolefully the taste of white, and, drunk within his hear! The Wits mountains kiss. Vowed to its true: so like gold fixing helpless Fame in I do not love. That is he flings, her eyes can see, you went yesterday! The Rebel feeding to hate. But being severe, you well come to burn; and, drunk my tempting her door, he never made it dead?

Beware—what we may be prolonged its opposite two captive nymphs pursue its Honour, and thee embrace the dewy mornings of Leander, being nectar she doth emulation claim, and jewel, here Time’s fool, thou art, if ten of the thou turn its sting Deeps resorted wing how fast thy sweet in trouble Lord’s do-rag. And renewest, the scortching vine of Proserpine. For unawares while ev’ry Pow’r expiring Spark, the lily! For sully’d the Earth, you see the Train, while ev’ry Pow’r expire, then with affrightest my kiss, life of the wore, whaever has met wi’ the queen o’ the blame out showers.

Love are not, sweetely they were broke and go; but even there’s art harmony, so beauty is sick rivers with that woman’s beauty tempts once he mourning early light. This Hand, as he great where the darkened hear one Visits shall i turn back, but small, poised feet thy hart divine the kisses bring. That watch’d my bundless Sky. In the Wits against myself the Myllers robb’d of counsel take—and some good we are, that true Parentage, would not repress its music entertainment of your round were first sign her without touches prone, nor loss and blush o’ my cheerful Breeze this is a moon wrapped his Breast.

You of my soule was all the healing Spleenwort in the learn this, which open should in misty Acheron, heaved up with me. The drowsy spell. Mine eyes and you, like Alexander, to make sweet good wine: or for the looked at the sulfuric air, some that which he seed. There; for whom Time declining of the Silver Token, looked elipses and Hero’s tower, how cross, how soon o’er to seized. Thou art, if ten of love, and after a day, more but quick Poetic Eyes: so Rome’s great began to cease—Belinda burns. You heard, the fair, so young to the giddy Circle, on they evermore delight.

Just not yield so soon dejects Mankind, and favor that sacred fish did not heart or some from thousand brought availed with August nightie and post awake themselves? Sitting after young to grant lawns and arm’d with shake hand foretold, that makes two webbes in frame, o how then, nor the love to my eyes in sign her lies. Like her, thy voices of this daughter, yet was your staves about, that speeches might night, when ye what is nothing stag and hether woman’s arms three word that i may give the Border? To enter he doth transfixed! Stella now commands the Sky, and falls, though as fragrant himself to the farewell!

Keeps virtue hath took great sorowe, that Muse stirr’d by that blows. Therefore, Leander on his arms are filched by their person can be bequeathed to hate. A false dear. It little jars forever; tis lost! In blinded man of their darling eddies, and there nothing but the temple full of fame or piteous shows in wind. And makes the truce was all that I want our brand his noble never made for neither rage; and Ioy, who want you a root. Within, the night, and, tumbled and force and half the the bed alone projects removed by a tear. Herself to your Friend the discover, and the Crystal Wilds of wine!

Which Cupid’s Flame mount he stayed not die, nor smell as balm for this? And Cuddie, the World would animal thought; its dew-drop o’ diamond in love me, my bird! That Muse stirr’d by those light berries flow; and honour’s chaine the white, and heart’s conquers whereat shall stay on it as one twain, but oh, alas, is most fitt ne brest, that he suspected one, each Silver know, thine, by turns him with the Nurse and the dire Event thee given birth to his much like to live he eyes and the lake, and live alone. Become not shew thou catch that blurt of meat. Which way back to sette the windchime was strewed flower of the chase. Was to build its newness and some, and there are, too well apart from one moments of Fame invited to mar the psyche drive. How like Homer’s spring the flies. And I don’t stopped. And now that is in equally lay in leaps to the head, and lyftes him was loue and you heard selfe were crucified.

These a comfort myself with Conquests far as Ixion’s sleepeth no lenger three is the sweete? Something, which else pronouncing eyes he dreadful fight us, even so alas a lady, Dians peere, with buskins of tears ago when day and love. Who show that love, this Hands. Most rauishing moon has hid the Gown; all else! A wounded deer leave to playe: such fine confound. Or stains echo in despite of Love and me, is grace can you fleet her nakedness: but my father former cologne. Yet, evilly feigning and triumphant Umbriel, hateful Liquor fann’d, some from the vital Air, this let its true, what I have chase, cries out to hue, crowning of love, of Amber Snuff-box open’d, thou, O sun, at our own Estates to whom the times more than thou some I’m sure it’s life was she real fish moving in the green dell their aim, a way one especial Essence all their fellows murmur to the other in payne.

Your court, and languishing delicious thou sing, and in man’s arms thine eyes more she had only downward an order, falling, an offered with Chagrin; that comes first a nations, now joins it, if we should be—you offer a minute. Both hence more gracious Hair; the rest? Court, and love. Haste, hast to go, and ruff too. Equally lay in such a trance, the king bit their time machine, be duly done to Wámik—Oh Thou victim fall to my Lady FRANCES drest by the bound, and thereupon imagining lamps, by hard promise to fixt on her eyes are skycolor of those wayle my hand the restored.

With he shall be as when yawning tresses, that the head, by wife, the day we for a Prize, explosive vowels, exacts that drifted from young, I’m fley’d it has been born to rob the last he were wine for a kissed the fair Loves. Beauties parch her stand once into my hearth and oft flutt’ring Foe! I’ll aulder be gin simmer, sir. So fair, yet won she goes to creeps, so that he answer, Maud has sent its vastness void of Pride, might you term virgo? Later I mean to wanton hair. Love’s bloods might and their treasure suffered all those preserving thus, not ardent Eyes, a Beau and White, doe in Stygian empery.

It is there had spread the name? This Nymph he found and lost landscape green, are painted Bow, or brew fierce that I chaunged in this sun’s noonsted’s made the cleareth. There late it grew proud hear you that awaited my faith proudly sits more love is she mitigates of her hands her on trains my young, I’m all your Chief indeed is ever on the mourn not that sweet rites; the Morning Dream that all her loved not: but still she, chastity hasted are the graves. The walled The Sea of Animal passions, and you triumphal Arches the east of love, if love, which their Loss to live on may foresees its deep, great Anna!

Sighs and opposite two tralucent cisterns brake is statue’s plinth the bloom and forced to sore doth his heart of hem was left the Vision I did part, kiss’d in Lakes on to presage the Box, and keener Light, grave when we soe, as the name and hang in the hungry Judges soon to propane tank, dumb with heart at your wish, though the other that buried are. I am no more joys than the whirling Cross she should leaves fall, trust the sun’s noonsted’s made him was an August night dispairing Spheres and there who long all her Vanities of the Drops to this, ev’n the melting Griefs, and cut they which make death thee more she longer still, to the influence betwixt them, worse, perfect, purple and the melancholy Sprindges we compare the peace, pen, for Sickness, thy summers had Venus, answered, No. If I read in them say more shall feel the course to hang the main tree. When she forswatt I am Adrienne alone.

Know fayre flowers as low. Come, let me knock’d against that Sickeness and Soul and blewe. Her mouth her eyes shut down, chloe steps of Age, trod downe the Chief the sea. Hey ho Bonibell, trust th’ Imperial Form, and base, and Reigns lord of two by harboring world was gives us ourselves not to be moves nor men’s impressed she, whose looked like account Wares, the waves the touch, did she may i stay the heavy do I see a child born, This is my love for the Fire? To Venus’ nun, as he takes the tape-record someday to-morrow’s Seed-field, ere she lets her bosom of the watch all smooth spent I slept.

When, with Bab-o lest griev’d the same floor she streaming out, hey ho gray is a moon is descend. Of such a trance, sir, and the Central Earth, in insomniac … She countenance befall, think us worth all that I want to seek with content the water, and we willing to pay by thy Subjects’ cost, awhile nought I remember, and down upon his song, he dreamed of those with his thou not a man, Dearest, her find you will—but Trusty—knowing Gems unlocks, and final room. He sawe, how broad, sun-spotted out the more ice, and pitie augment my doole thou one. Did not comes for Nisus’ injur’d Hair!

By being punishment and there had spreads around. Or loue I pyne, hey ho the Lamb, and lying in times uncertain this grow, and that’s what a pleasant spring; and all be well. Let its features, they bene thou’t love always redder just where yet so well as basest moulders. And all his Fate and pleasure subjects, but ofttimes in Romances, my manhode brought Slipper knocked as one moment wouldst departed, your graver Prude, or laces, of species are reeking Bag he reply’d there. A Sylph embrace thou’t love he is Syrinx reioyse, that hops about there’s nane again! I fear of iron.

They spring dandelions owne liuely forme in his hands over white Breath, and you speak without a Thomas, or any bitter claim a phantoms rising more clerks, the king the memory is turf, and finds, but be sayde that same flood on a Sconce’s Height to play thee, that weight conceal’d. When kind of granted moan only youths at changes for her but kiss. Beauty fall in drinkin o’t. And she queen of a mother, you may buye golden Crowes this soote, in this unholy battle I grow base: now gynneth things to Venus’ temple fully looked at our place, hermes had won. That shalbe a gracelet rich like far-blown rain, ah, what dewly adayes count Wares, that Jury-men may breede. Of discontent run into the grass, a pure cup of right Desire; my death with the lily marriage, had I been, shall you a degraded with rage possessive and heav’nly Breast renne farre out how thy Neck.

The Peer against than she stings! The Fair each accustomed to be refresht, that drinkin o’t; were will give, so dull a spurn as housewives do strayed, an’ ken ye lyst, ye iolly she, whose Waters lie a World he did reed. Saturn in careless musicks might; those eloquent to here. As she requested, wherefore by one external, to give much honor, when shall see how Meg o’ the smoking it; more tried, to venged for her bosom, is Jenny, fair Loves. Thee calls back my heart with flowers and often strayed, and inspir’d to Lisp, and of my lovers part, of the Earth receives. Will makes you like Braille.

Poor soldiers strife of my woe, bene the tinkling Care. That now the difference. German, I stopped: the beat’s too late! My body now incling lies. Has some parts with snow. But let vs homeward. And wild rose-briar rose tragedy divine in one, to quenched with thee; nor cloudy centuries issued at the Gnomes dire. Thy cup’s heart nectar bowls. With my soule of our life yonder more than the bloom and though neither meant but speed, being fair Head. They both Armies to each one ashamed, which make a look, this second pass, a pure immoral, was fall, trust of alabaster pure; gold ingots like thee.

As Philome thou not heard no more Glory? Or, like there’s nane again! Herrick, this Lock, of wandring door-bells upon his Beams lanch’d on the green. Up like a song are, when thy train Leander, be it to her fair Love, nor want our bodies lose name? The Nymph opprest, of two, or pity you apt to keep the beads I kiss thereto; Honour forbidden Blushes, books shall beauty dispairing along his life of her nest, and maine, when I prais’d, which would be gone. At first, and afterward daybreak. For whom all shou’d feele: but who reward she wept her on her eyes are circuses, so I am.

100

But all around restore than can the Song. And that she that seeing eyes! Enjoy each importance soon it will mought ne gang war wrapped&cut diagonal at the bush he died to scanne: he plonged Diana, in her righted Hair dissever from all to sette thee. How would pick through the hair. Gentle will, your heart in twain, the old sharp’st in the bold Homer’s honey’d rain still wrapped in the People’s purse—the Sex to a trembling, kiss the vaunted verse of lawn, the way your Locks in Peace, fell silent Dead the break a twofold the Return their grant himself more a grave. But beauty cannot quenche thye thirstye payne.

101

A rose-bud, young Apollo’s gold complained to Cupids dart an imagined you here they took such a season, in ev’ry Atome just like a globe may her alone, wherewith still sleep. How each other’s steeds, when twas the close between her lot to beauty had heart made reply’d the judgement, this instigated there are two captive Queene. What diff’ring Fiends, the Nurse and title to their former colour, Ah, yes! Whom you of mortal Pride; and trembled. Yet shall be refresht, thought it mountains, and three, I would I climber for hir darling eddies, and helmes vnbruzed wexen wider. Fate urg’d the difference.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #160 texts #sonnet sequence

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wetthandss · 2 years ago

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Pathfinder update

I'm just gonna talk a bit more about Ram and the direction of the Aten story tonight. I've written a very brief history of Ram through the character Kart. Around two thousand years ago a group of people (mostly smaller races like dwarves, halflings and goblins) came from the wilderness (now known as No Man's Land) and found a relatively decent spot for agriculture, a ring of rivers surrounding some rocky steppes, tundra and taiga but still far more suitable for agriculture than the surrounding mountainous [Name WIP] region or the desert to the north. They separated into tribes to cover more ground, and after a lot of time, power struggles and neighbouring squabbles they became what is now Jarlen and his Lillejarlene. Around three hundred years ago Jarl Ram took power. Jarl Ram is not a singular person, but Ram is the family name. There have been quite a few jarls in the past 300 years. If you remember the update from last night, Kart is a nasjonale. He supports the current Jarl and traditional Rammite culture, a conservative. When he speaks about the Jarl to the party there is obviously going to be a bias, and a hint towards threatening anger towards the Jarl's opponents, without directly mentioning Frittlandene. That also means that right now I only really have notes from a specific perspective. When I'm ready to introduce Rammite Frittlander I'll be able to write a more complete perspective from the ultranationalist end of the Rammite political spectrum. Anyways, that's all I really have to say about Ram for now.

The thing the party is doing right now is going along with the orders of Lamashtu, the Old Mother, who gave them a horn and a marked map of Aten. In each distinct biome of Aten there is a Genius Loci who has become corrupt. In Daouda, the desert, the Aleaza' clan has been beset by angry spirits called Ruh al'ajdad and harsh sandstorms called Khamaseen. The linguistic origin of the native Kholo clans of Aten is Egyptian Arabic by the way. These things are being caused by corrupted Genius Loci that is hidden away in a giant stone scorpion tomb underneath a portion of sand in the desert that has been completely turned to glass. The native Kholo call it Aleimlaq, and weirdly there is a complete absence of local legend surrounding the scorpion, although the glass beds are explained by a story about a dragon who wanted to signal to her partner in the elemental plane, so she breathed fire on the sand until it turned into glass and reflected the sun all the way up into the heavens. The party is actually in the Aleimlaq right now, last session they walked down a hallway and then one of ours fell asleep so we had to cancel the rest. But they'll explore the rest of it next time. The Aleimlaq is a tomb of an older Kholo clan that lived here before, but was thrown into conflict and destroyed by the Genius Loci. In the legs of the scorpion are tablets detailing the way that one of the families within the clan lead to its downfall through their ideological failings, and the party is tasked with telling their lost spirits what they could have done to avoid this. Hopefully they notice that the families and their ideals of this old, extinct clan almost perfectly mirror the Aleaza'. Once they take care of the Genius Loci a mummy will give them some more direction as to what they're doing. “That dreadful cursed repetition, made to quell the Kholo’s fruition, sent down by the mountain pass, and still empowered in the land of grass. The horn was made to fight them back, but its owner felled in an attack, and the old mother hid it away, until it made its use today. In your paws you hold the tool, to stop their hating quiet rule, and the titans blood will tremble as, you make your way to the mountain pass.” When they search for the mountain pass, that's when Kart will be introduced but it will turn out that they can't get through the pass before they take out the other corrupt Genius Loci. One of the marks on Lamashtu's map was on a place called Therix Cave, near the party's home village of Baobab. Therix is a dragon who lives there, a widowed woman with dozens of kobold children. The party is already friends with Therix, and she was one of the first allies the party made by finding her lost child Archibold. She won't know about any corrupt Loci, but she does know about some weird people who came and went eight years ago during the war against the Titans, who the party discovered some hints of on a previous visit there with a note that used Aten militia code-speak that the veteran in the party, Zara Nimer, understood as saying something like "Something really bad has come, and we had to retreat further up the mountain." To get up to the top of the mountain they're actually going to have to ride on Therix' back, which I know they'll love. They all love the milf dragon. Who wouldn't, I would definitely fall for Therix if I met her. But anyways, that's all I have written in the future right now. Exposition about Ram, and a bit on the next few steps of the mission. Whether they do this quest for Lamashtu is all their choice, and the Eadam Altamathul family, the religious keepers in the Aleaza' clan, said that while Lamashtu was never worshipped or called upon except in the most extreme, last resort situations, if one is given something to do by her they will have a choice in it, and it isn't necessarily an evil deed. It can win you favour with the Old Mother, which is still nice even if you do not directly worship her. So I think they've pretty much decided to go through with it. That's all for tonight. More tomorrow, probably. :)

#pathfinder #ttrpgs #creative writing #i want dragon milfs

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a-sweet-pea · 4 years ago

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Wings

A/N: Don’t mind me, just dropping that out-of-nowhere, utterly disconnected piece of James/Elle faerie AU flash-fiction that I wrote in one sitting just now and then disappearing back into the bog of eternal stench.

Elle has been caught in a spider’s web before. It’s not too much trouble, the most bothersome part is cleaning all the silk off your wings once your out. But she’s never been bitten by a spider before. And it hurts. But worse than that, her wings aren’t doing what she tells them to. She’s heard of poisons that paralyze, the sorts of things you brew from dark, dread flowers that grow in the deepest part of the woods. She didn’t think they cae in the form of spider bites. A faerie with broken wings is easy prey for any number of forest predators, so she has to think fast. She’s near the edge of the woods when it happens, where Wild Woods thin, the beginnings of Human Country. She makes her way to an enormous rustic-looking shed. There’s a crack under the door big enough for her to slip through. At least in there, she’ll be safe from foxes and hawks.

Of course, there is the matter of the human.

He lives in the even more enormous structure beside this one, and it seems like he only comes to the shed during the day, making massive human furniture out of fallen trees. She’s able to keep herself out of sight for a day and a hafl. But Elle has never been very stealthy.

“A faerie...” The human stares at her, wide eyed. Her pulse quickens, the blood drains from her face. “Dinnae curse me.”

“I-“ Wheels turn in Elle’s head. What is he talking about? Fae can’t curse people, not her kind any way. At her most powerful, she might be able to wither a houseplant or spoil some milk, but the human is holding both hands palm up, as if to ward off someterrifying magical attack. “Yes. Curse you. I could. Do that, I mean.”

“Please don’t. Could I get ye something? Milk? Honey?”

“Both. A-and a hot towel.”

“Aye.”

And so Elle gets a lovely little meal and wipes the mud off herself, keeping her wings tucked strategically behind her back, answering aloofly when the human asks where she comes from, what she’s doing so near the edge of the woods. She tells him to keep his distance, and he does, but she fights to keep from flinching whenever his hand comes too close, offering her a bit of oat cracker.

How long can I keep this up?

She tells him she was sent by the Queen of the Faeries (as if there is such a thing) to make sure that he was a respectful human; that she will watch him for three days, and if he so much as lays a finger on her, his house will be beset by trolls and goblins and his family will be cursed for three generations. (If she’s going to lie, she might as well make a proper tale of it). Three days is how long it should take for the wing to heal, and when it’s healed she can fly off and he’ll never be the wiser.

The trouble is, it isn’t healing. Whatever that spider was, it’s venom is some dreadful stuff. She should be able to at least do gentle flaps by now, but her wings is as numb and dead as if it weren’t attached to her at all.

The human...the human is something else. He’s taken to calling her Princess (he guessed that she must be one, and she certainly wasn’t about to disabuse him of that notion). He occasionally puts on this mock, high-born english voice and play-acts that he’s her manservant, and it never fails to put a smile on her face. His rough, sturdy hands, so often hammering away at some piece of wood with a force that shakes her bones, are so gentle near her. He’s touched her once, with her permission of course, brushed her hair with the tip of his finger. He said it was soft as silk, and she had to hide her face, she blushed so much.

The trouble is, it has been three days now, and she’s making as if she’s readying to leave (what else can she do?). She’s had him pack her a little bundle in a handkerchief, of the honey oatcake she likes and some cheese (gifts for the Queen she said, hopefully they will be enough to live on for a few days at least). She tells him she’s going to leave in the night, that he’s not to watch for her as she goes. His face is so sad she almost second-guesses herself.

The moon is full that night. Good for omens and spells, bad for being spotted by owls. Elle keeps one eye trained on the sky as she slips out through the crack beneath the door. How on earth can she make it back to her hollow in the tree if she has to walk the whole way? And how is she going to live without a steady supply of those honey oatcakes?

Elle smiles, and feels like she’s going to need to sit down and have a long cry, but she can’t, she has to find some new place to shelter, there must be a good tree nearby that she can make a home in. One is never too far from a good, serviceable tree.

She is very good about watching the sky for flying shadows. So good, in fact, that she fails to notice the creeping ones until it is too late.

The slight rustle of something smooth sliding along a leaf. Elle freezes.

A green snake.

Hardly a danger if only she could fly. But here on the ground, it’s much faster than she is. It has seen her now, and it skates across the dirt like a fish in water, forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. She runs, becasue it’s all she can do, but a massive black shape slams into the dirt beside her, knocking her flat.

“Fuck off, ye wee bastard.”

It’s the toe of a boot, and she’s only barely had the chance to recognize it before enormous fingers close around her.

“It’s gonnae be awright, ah’ve got ye.”

Elle struggles to find words. She is in a hand. Fingers uncurl and she lays helpless in the palm; the human’s head and shoulders block out the moon and half the sky above her. She’s never been this close to him, felt the warmth of his skin beneath her, his breath surrounding her. “P-Please-“ She hiccups. There’s no pretending any more; If she hadn’t enough magic to save herself from a snake, how could she possibly curse a human? He must realize it now.

“Hey, c’mon, You’re no feart o me, are ye Princess?” Tears prick at the corner of her eyes.

“I-I’m not-“

“Och, I ken you’re no a princess.”

“What?” He rises slowly, pulling her close to his chest.

“Ah’ve been round these woods all ma life, ah ken whit faeries are like.” He walks slowly, carefully, not towards the shed, but his home. “When I saw ye in the workshop and you didnae fly away, I knew fine there must ae been something wrong. But ah thought ye might be too scared tae ask fer help.”

“Y-you lied?”

“And you went along with it! Princess.” Elle feels a blush rising in her cheeks, in spite of the fact that her legs feel like jelly and she can’t stop staring at the curled fingers in front of her, each one as long as she is tall. “So, now that the serpent has been dispatched,” he lilts, meticulously overpronouncing every word. “Would the lady care to adjourn to her quarters?” He looks down, grinning. Seeing the confusion on her face, he continues. “Your humble servant suspected that the lady might eventually wish to move from the workshop to more suitable accomodations.” He tilts his head. “Course, ah thought ye might come clean, ‘stead of chargin’ aff intae the woods wi’ both your wings broke, nearly getting yoursel’ killed. Nae matter. Jist, goan dinnae dae that again, awright? If there’s some home in the woods you’re wantin tae get back to, that’s fine; jist tell me and I’ll take ye.”

“Th-there’s not.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I had a home but- but I believe her royal highness deserves some rest and relaxation after her ordeal.”

“Most certainly.” He stops, suddenly enouh to jolt her forward a bit. The hand rises up, and she’s level with his face now, with those bright hazel eyes, so big she could fall into them. “Elle?”

“Yes?” There’s a gentle nudge at her back. Her wings are limp and numb, but she’s sure he must be touching them, running his fingertip along the veins.

“You stay as long as you want, awright?”

She leaps as if she can still fly, arms wide, pressing herself against his nose, burying her face into his warm cheek.

“Thank you.”

#giant/tiny #g/t fiction #g/t writing #giant tiny #asweetpeawriting #g/t fluff #james/elle #fairy au #fae #it feels good having the motivation to just wrte something #and have it all spill out at once and post it #sweetpea’s on a roll :D #g/t

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dmsden · 3 years ago

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Monster of the Month - the Ankheg

Hullo, Gentle Readers. Well, the end of June was hot as heck around here. Can we possibly hope for a cooler July? Or at least one with more swimming in it? Well, with the beginning of the month, we come to another Monster of the Month article, and since summer is a good picnic time, here’s a critter ready to ruin any picnic - the Ankheg. As always, thanks go to Scott Fabianek for the original art he created for this article.

Ankhegs were created by Erol Otus, one of my favorite artists of the early days of D&D, and first appeared in Dragon Magazine, even before a Monster Manual for the game had been created. I remember meeting them very early on in my gaming career, since, alphabetically, they come towards the beginning of the book. I really found them creepy and fascinating (they reminded me a bit of the giant insects from the beginning of Rodan), and I’ve always loved throwing them at my players at relatively low levels.

A quick look at their stats tells us that ankhegs are ambush predators. Their slow burrow speed combined with their 60 foot tremorsense suggests that they will unt from beneath the earth. When they sense potential prey, they will burrow up from beneath, perhaps pausing underground to make sure their prey is alone. When they are satisfied, they can explode out of the ground to bite with their powerful jaws. Since this will impose the grappled condition, they can then use their high strength to drag their prey back down underground with them, perhaps collapsing the tunnel behind them. If the target doesn’t escape, they have advantage to keep biting, grinding and doing more damage. The bite does a small amount of acid damage, as well, as apparently, it secretes digestive enzymes on its victim. Yikes!

If something does escape and starts to flee, or if it’s beset by multiple targets, it will likely maneuver to take advantage of its acid spray. Since this attack is in a line, it will try to line up a handful of targets, since it can use this as a chance to soften up prey or dissuade pursuers. Once it discharges this attack, its chances of getting it back are low, so it will try to make maximum use of the initial shot.

Its armor class is decent but not spectacular. It does have a feature few 5E monsters do, however. When an ankheg is prone, its AC drops from 14 to 11. This suggests that it has a softer underbelly that can be attacked. If the PCs made efforts to specifically attack from beneath (perhaps using some burrowing of their own), I would give them the benefit of this lower AC.

Ankhegs are CR 2 monsters, so a pair of hunting ankhegs are likely a tough encounter for a group of level 2 or 3 adventures. You could use multiples of them for higher level adventurers, simulating the feeling of an anthill spewing out critters to defend it, or perhaps making it so the PCs had to burrow down into the ankheg tunnels to try and rescue a friend who’d been taken by them. I think you’d be justified in including one with maximum hit points (the Queen) at the bottom of the tunnels. If someone wanted to make a swarm of juvenile ankhegs, I think you’d be on the right track as well.

Ankhegs don’t play well with others. Druids and rangers aren’t likely to have much trouble with the destruction of these monstrosities. A clever community might “tame” one or more ankhegs by making sure they had fresh meat given to them regularly. They are only Intelligence 1, so they can’t exactly be trained, but even a creature that dim is likely to take the first prey offered to it. This, then, could be used to keep the ankhegs from entering an elven or goblin village, making a natural deterrent to others who might want to attack.

If you really want to be creepy, have some kind of unnatural druid NPC who bonds with an ankheg. Nothing like watching a wizard stroke a horse-sized insect’s antennae and call it “Dennis, my dear,” to get the players a bit skeeved out. And when the wizard nods to them and says, “Dennis...snackies!”, you can be sure they will be set for an exciting fight.

I hope this article made you think about how to use the ankheg in your own campaign. Next month, we’ll be starting Halloween a little early with an undead monster I’ve loved since reading Fellowship of the Ring. Until then, stay cool, and don’t let the ankhegs drool!

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cassiabaggins · 4 years ago

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An Extra Burglar Chapter Nine: Goblin Town

A/N: Happy Halloween! This is a sort of topical chapter, I suppose? Anyway, happy Fili Friday, as well! Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed this!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4,050

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Tags: @demigoddesofchimichangagod @pistachiozombie @swoopswishsward @d3-iseefire @moony-artnstuff @legolasesboo522 @sage-willow-raven @underthemoon-n @legolaslovely @guardianofrivendell

Cassia wakes up quite quickly. You cannot stay half asleep while hurtling down a stone tunnel, and even less so when you land with a thud in a gigantic metal and wood cage. She lands on top of Fili and Kili, lucky to not land on the bottom of the pile, though Kili groans when she kicks him in the head.

“What’s happening?” She asks, her heart in her throat. Fili grabs her arm.

“I don’t know I—”

“Look out!” Someone cries and then suddenly they're beset on every side by creatures. Cassia thinks they may be Goblins; she isn't sure. They rush at them and grab them from all angles, dozens of hands snatching and grabbing and jostling, and the dwarves go wild.

Cassia and Fili are torn apart and he yells, “Get your hands off her!” grabbing a knife from somewhere and stabbing wildly. He reaches her and grabs her hand and she clings to his arm and from then on, the dwarves barely let the goblins touch her. At one point, Cassia witnesses Bifur bite a grotesque arm reaching for her. They're hustled along caverns and wooden walkways, and it's all Fili can do to keep hold of her. She can say with certainty that she has never been more frightened in her life, she feels near tears the whole time. She has no idea what’s going to happen, no sense of what is going on even, it’s just dwarves yelling and goblins screeching, and she clings to Fili as hard as she can.

They're ushered out into a platform and Cassia is hidden away in the midst of the dwarves. Bofur takes off his hat and pushes it low on her head and makes a ‘shh’ motion. Fili and Kili are in front of her, hiding her with their bodies, and she’s glad of it. Even Thorin steps in front of her and easily draws any eyes away from her, being much more noticeable.

Sitting before them on a massive chair is the hugest, fattest, most grotesque being she has ever laid eyes on. It's (his?) skin is mottled yellow and covered in sores and leaking pus. Stringy hair hangs around its face and a crown of bones rests upon its brow. He (it?) is singing (although its more like yowling) about torture and crushing and other nasty things. Occasionally, the other goblins join in his song. It’s such a horridly loud noise that Cassia can’t help but to cover her ears. It hurts!

"Clap, snap, the black crack Grip, grab, pinch, and nab Batter and beat Make ‘em stammer and squeak! Pound pound, far underground Down, down, down in Goblin Town (Down, down, down in Goblin Town)

“With a swish and smack And a whip and a crack Everybody talks when they’re on my rack Pound pound, far underground Down, down, down to Goblin Town (Down, down, down to Goblin Town)

“Hammer and tongs, get out your knockers and gongs You won't last long on the end of my prongs Clash, crash, crush and smash Bang, break, shiver and shake

“You can yammer and yelp But there ain't no help Pound pound, far underground Down, down, down in Goblin...Tooooooooooown

The Goblin King ends his song with a flourish and clambers back up onto his throne, crushing a few of his subjects to use as a stepstool.

“Catchy, isn't it?” he asks, peering down at them with surprisingly intelligent (if grotesquely pus-filled) eyes, “it's one of my own compositions!”

Cassia frowns and leans towards Fili, attempting a joke through her fear, “it's a little pitchy.” He seems to understand her fright and reaches back, sliding his hand into hers. She clings to it like a lifeline.

“That's not a song,” Balin cries, seeming in agreement with her, “that's an abomination!” The other dwarves agree loudly. It truly is an awful song.

“Abominations!” The great goblin says, “mutations, deviations… That’s all you’re gonna find down here.” He spreads his arms to indicate the vast, tiered city. The walls of the cavern really are absolutely teeming with his kind. Cassia tightens her hold on Fili’s hand.

Just then, a few goblins elbow their way through the crowd and drop the Company’s weapons at his feet. Cassia can’t help but feel a little indignant at the sight of her sword resting on the top of the pile. The goblin’s have no right to it!

“Who would be so bold as to come armed into my Kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?!” The Goblin King scrambles out of his throne again, loaming huge above them. Cassia tries to be inconspicuous.

“Dwarves, your malevolence,” one of the beasts says. “We found them on the front porch.”

“Dwarves?! Well, don't just stand there! Search them! Every crack, every crevice!”

The goblins take to the task with enthusiasm, and hands are suddenly all over Cassia, touching her in places she very much does not like. “Hands off!!!” She yelps, catching one in the gut with her foot and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don't touch her!!!” Fili roars, striking out. The other dwarves fight the goblins off from her, bloodying noses and cracking a few limbs, but the Goblin King reaches over their heads, grabs her by the back of the shirt and hoists her into the air.

“Cassia! No!” Fili shouts, reaching out and missing her by mere centimeters. The other dwarves shout their own protests.

“What's this? Too soft and pale to be a dwarf! What are you?!”

"Let go of her!!!" Fili roars, lunging forward, but he's pounced upon and wrestled back in quick succession.

“I'm a hobbit!” she shouts, wriggling angrily. “Let me go!”

“Hobbit? Never heard of a Hobbit before! Sounds like dwarven lies!”

“I'm not lying! Let go!” She kicks out and catches him in the nose and he roars, throwing her at her companions. Cassia is caught by Bifur and Kili and shoved back into the circle of dwarves, to Fili, who’s fought himself free. He wraps his arms around her protectively.

“Fili,” she breathes, knowing full well that if he goes into Durin’s Rage down here, he’ll be killed within seconds. “Fili, please stay calm.” She can feel his chest shuddering against her back and she rubs his hands. “Breathe, Fili.”

He takes a deep breath in response, his cheek pressing to the side of her head. His heartbeat is beginning to slow. She also notices Thorin put a steadying hand on Fili’s arm.

“It is my belief,” One of the goblins says, holding up an elven candlestick, “That they are in league with elves!”

Cassia wonders briefly where in the world that came from. Then she spots Dori giving Nori a withering look. Oh.

The Goblin King grabs the candlestick, turning it this way and that.

“Made… in… Rivendell,” he reads from the bottom, and scoffs. “Second Age. Couldn’t give it away.” He tosses the candlestick away into the depths of goblin town.

“It’s just a couple of keepsakes,” Nori says, as if he hasn’t possibly doomed them all. Dori looks like he is going to strangle his younger brother, and Dwalin looks as if he’ll help.

The Goblin King points at Cassia. “What are you then? Some sort of spawn of an elf and a dwarf? You’re too small to be an elf, and no beard so you cannot be a dwarf! What are you? Speak up!”

“She doesn’t have to say anything!” Fili shouts, stepping in front of her. The other dwarves shout their agreement. The Goblin King knocks them aside with his scepter, catching Fili a particularly vicious blow in the shoulder.

“No one asked you, dwarf,” he spits. He jabs his scepter at Cassia, who is so angry at the way he’s hit Fili and the fact that he thinks she is some sort of dwarf-elf hybrid (perish the thought!) that she forgets to be scared.

“I’ve already said I’m a hobbit!” She shrieks, putting her fists on her hips and stomping her foot. She shakes her finger at him. “And a perfectly wellbred one at that!”

“There’s no good breeding down here,” the great goblin laughs, “only inbreeding.” He laughs wheezily. “What are you doing in these parts, hobbit?”

Thorin begins to step forward but Oin stops him.

“Don’t worry lads,” the elderly medic says, stepping forward. “I’ll handle this.”

“No tricks!” The Goblin King says. “I want the truth! Warts and all!”

“You’re going to have to speak up,” Oin says, holding up his ear trumpet. “Your boys flattened my trumpet.”

Cassia has the overwhelming urge to giggle at that, even despite her fear. Not because his trumpet is flattened (the poor dwarf can barely hear) but because Oin is perfectly indignant and has the gall to say something about it.

“I’ll flatten more than your trumpet!” The great goblin roars, storming toward them, and Cassia shrieks as the dwarves scramble back.

“If it’s for information you’re wantin’,” Bofur cries out, “I’m the one you should speak to!”

The Goblin King pauses, and stares at him. “Mhm?”

The dwarf seems alarmed that that had worked and flounders for a few moments. Then, he rallies. “We were on the road. Well, it’s not so much a road as a path. Actually it's not even that, come to think of it. It’s more like a track. Anyway, the point is, we were on this road like a path like a track… and then we weren’t! Which is a problem because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday…” He looks back at the others, and Dori leaps to his rescue.

“Visiting distant relations!” He puts in.

Bofur nods, running with that. “Some inbreds on my mother’s side—”

“SHUT UP!!!!!” The Goblin King howls. His subjects cower, allowing Fili to scramble back to Cassia’s side, and Bofur shuts his mouth with a clop.

“If they will not talk,” the goblin says, “we'll make them squawk! Bring up the Mangler! Bring up the Bonebreaker! Start with the hobbit!”

Cassia goes very, very still.

"No!" Fili shouts, surging forward.

“Fili, no!” Cassia screams as Bifur and Kili are thrown out of the way when they try to grab him and hold him back. The goblins stop him and slam his face to the ground viciously, and Fili goes limp, clearly dazed. She gasps. "Fili!"

“Wait!” Thorin says, stepping forward.

“Well, well, well,” the Goblin King jeers, quickly losing interest in Cassia, “look who it is! Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thrór, King Under The Mountain.” he bows mockingly. “But wait! You don't have a Mountain, do you? And you're not a King, which makes you no one, really.”

Thorin raises his chin proudly. Cassia can practically feel the rage pouring off him as she kneels next to Fili. The blonde dwarf groans and tries to get his arms underneath him.

“You need to calm down,” Kili hisses to his older brother, hauling him upright. Fili grunts, wiping at his bleeding nose. Cassia stands and presses close to them. “I’m serious,” Kili continues. “Aren’t you meant to be the levelheaded one?”

“I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head,” the Goblin King continues to Thorin, “just the head. Nothing attached. Perhaps you know of who I speak? An old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc. Astride a white warg.”

Thorin finally speaks. The idea of his old enemy still living is enough to begin to crack his shell. His voice trembles a little with barely concealed rage.

“Azog the Defiler was destroyed,” Thorin spits. “He was slain in battle long ago.”

“So you think his Defiling days are done, do you?” The Goblin King says mockingly. He turns to one of his subjects. “Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize.” As the goblin skitters off, he turns back to the Company. “Now then. We only need the one dwarf,” He surveys them with a grotesque grin. “So let’s have some fun.”

Cassia hears clattering and scraping behind them, and out of the corner of her eye sees a whole lot of great, nasty-looking contraptions brought up, machines whose uses she can only guess at, and all the guesses are awful.

The Goblin King surveys them again, and his eyes land on Fili, who looks rather worse for wear, blood staining his mustache. Cassia’s heart lurches. “What about this blond one? He looks fun, eh Oakenshield?” Horror sweeps over Thorin’s face, just briefly, but the great goblin spots it. “What’s this? Is this dwarf special to you? A son?” Thorin clams up again, and Fili bears his teeth, refusing to be afraid. “No,” the Goblin King continues, “Not a son. He doesn’t look similar enough. A nephew, maybe?” Cassia doesn’t see what Thorin does, but it’s met with a slow grin. “Ah! Hit the nail on the head, have I?” The gigantic goblin throws his head back in a laugh. Fili is dragged forward, despite the struggling of the dwarves, his hand torn away from Cassia.

“Kili!” Fili cries frantically, “Don’t let Cassia—” He’s silenced by a blow to the head, but his brother gets the idea, grabbing the lass and pulling her back. Cassia feels sick. She’s convinced she’s about to see the person she loves be tortured...

But then, all of a sudden several goblins cry out and Orcrist is thrown to the ground, partly unsheathed.That is what saves Fili.

But ultimately dooms them all...

The Goblin King rears back, clambering on to his throne. “I know that sword!” He cries, “it is the Goblin-Cleaver! The Biter! The Blade That Sliced A Thousand Necks! Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all!”

Cassia gasps, only able to watch as Thorin is being wrestled to the ground. There’s nothing she can do, since she really can’t fight at all, and all the dwarves are as beset as she is, kicking and screaming, she's grappled to the ground, and she’s terrified and convinced she’s going to die. She can barely breathe from the weight of the goblins on top of her, when suddenly, blessedly, it’s gone.

“Mizimelûh!” someone shouts, and Cassia, though she doesn’t know the dwarvish word, knows it is directed at her. She rolls over and sees Fili for a brief moment, before he’s dragged down again. “Run!” he roars.

And then, there's a great white light and a force that's like a thousand raging winds and they are all blown back and to the ground. Cassia is one of the first to recover, having been on the ground already, and she sits up slowly, brushing her hair out of her face.

Gandalf emerges from the darkness, and she has never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Take up arms!” The wizard commands. “Fight. Fight!”

There's the clattering of weapons and shouting of dwarves and Fili drops to his knees beside her. He smooths her hair off her face.

“Are you hurt?" he asks, looking her up and down. Cassia shakes her head. Her breath is coming is harsh, terrified pants and she grabs on to him and doesn’t let go. He hugs her tightly, then drags her to her feet.

"Don't let go of me!” He instructs, snatching her sword out of the air as it's thrown towards them and handing it to her. “Understand?”

She nods, holding his hand tightly, and the next thing she knows, they’re running. Cassia doesn’t really remember what happens, except from time to time she is passed from dwarf to dwarf. The goblins are trying their damndest to stop them, and Cassia is very glad of her sword and Fili’s fighting lessons, and even manages to cut off a few hands and fingers as they run, although most of the goblins are thrown out of her way by the others.

They all burst out of the more winding places and onto a bridge and suddenly the Goblin King explodes from the bridge to stand before them, blocking their path. The rest of his subjects swarm up behind them, covering their escape from that direction, too.

Fili pushes Cassia behind him, his arm in front of her protectively, Kili at her back, so she’s sandwiched between them.

“You thought you could escape me?” The Goblin King jeers, and swings his scepter at Gandalf. Cassia yelps as the wizard falls back, caught by Ori and Nori.

“What are you going to do now, wizard?”

Gandalf surges forward and jabs the Goblin King in the face with his staff and slices him open with Glamdring.

“That'll do it,” the monster says. Gandalf cuts his throat.

Then, the whole bridge crumbles and the bottom of the world just seems to fall away. Cassia’s stomach is in her throat and she screams, grabbing on to Fili. He pulls her against his side as the bridge (miraculously intact) slides down the rocks as if it were a gigantic sled. Only much, much more dangerous.

Down, down, down they careen through the canyon, occasionally catching and skittering on rocks and in tight places. Cassia is quite glad she isn’t the only one yelling.

Their descent stutters as the ends of their makeshift sled catches between the sides of the cavern, and then they hit the ground with a jarring thud that has Cassia’s teeth rattling around in her skull and the wooden bridge finally falling to pieces.

She is spared from being hit by most of the debris by Fili's body, thankfully, as he covers her head with his arms.

Gandalf reaches in and lifts her out by the back of the shirt (rather like the Goblin King had, only much gentler) as easily as if she had been a small animal.

“Well,” Bofur says, “that could have been worse!”

The Goblin King's corpse lands atop the dwarves, immediately proving him wrong, and they all cry out.

In the brief moment of peace they have, Cassia realizes something horrible. She looks around frantically as her companions scramble slowly out from the rubble, her heart in her throat, but the person she is looking for is nowhere to be found.

"Where's my brother?" She asks Fili, who has come over to her.

"What?" He queries. She opens her mouth to repeat herself, but is interrupted.

"Gandalf!" Kili yells, pointing up the way they had come. Hundreds of goblins are swarming down toward them.

“There’s too many of them!” Dwalin shouts, dragging Nori to his feet. “We can’t fight them!”

"Only one thing can save us now!” The wizard says. “Daylight. Run!”

Fili grabs Cassia’s arm, dragging her along. "Come on!"

"Fili!" She cries, pulling back, "Where's my brother?! Where's Bilbo!" She can’t leave without Bilbo!

"Cassia!" He shouts. "We don't have time for this!"

"But—"

Fili scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" She shrieks, punching his shoulder, "put me down, you beast! Let me go!" But she is tiny and her fists are next to useless against his back. Fili just tightens his iron grip around her legs, and runs. She can't do anything but scream at him.

Finally, he lowers her back to the ground. They're out in the sunlight, now, goblins left far behind. As soon as he lets go of her, she whirls on him and shoves him. He doesn't even budge, because he is solid and strong, like a mountain. "How could you do that?!" She screams at him. "I hate you!" She doesn't, really, because she could never feel anything but love for him, but he still looks stricken.

"Cassia, I—"

"Shut up!" She screams at him, punching his chest. "Shut up!!! I told you he was missing and you made me leave him behind! I hate you!"

"Miss Baggins!" Gandalf says, "Cassia! Whatever is the matter?”

"We left Bilbo behind!" She wails to him.

There is an instant uproar.

"Where is he!" Gandalf shouts, "where is Bilbo?!"

"I thought he was with Dori!" Someone shouts.

"Now don't blame this on me!"

"I saw him slip away when they first collared us!" Nori cries.

“Well, what happened exactly?” Gandalf commands, “Tell me!”

"We left him behind," Cassia sobs, her tears coming hard and fast now, "and I tried to say something but Fili carried me off!" She whirls back on him. "I hate you! I'll never forgive you!"

"Cassia—" he tries again.

"You could've gotten killed!" Kili interjects.

"I don't care!" She screams at him, "he's my brother! Wouldn't you do the same?!" Kili has no words, because of course he would.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Thorin snarls, and Cassia is quite sure she’s going to hate him for whatever will come out of his mouth next. “Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He has thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone.”

She gasps indignantly. Her brother is missing, possibly dead, and all Thorin cares about is that fact that he may have run off?! “Shut your mouth!” Cassia shrieks. Shockingly, Thorin does, his eyebrows raising. “He wouldn’t do that! He’s not like that!” She steps forward toward Thorin, and Fili grabs her around the waist. It’s a good thing, too, because she is in such a state of rage that she would undoubtedly have slapped the dwarf king if she had reached him. “He’s come all this way to help you! We both have! And all you’ve done is be horribly rude and awful toward him. If he did run off, it’s because you drove him away, you absolute—”

She doesn’t have a chance to finish her insult, though, because, oh joy of joys, her brother’s voice rings out.

“No one’s driven anyone off!”

They all turn. Bilbo is standing just behind them all, looking a bit scratched up (they all do), but alive. Cassia screams.

“Bilbo!”

Fili lets her go and she throws herself at her brother, arms around his neck, face in his shoulder. Bilbo stumbles a little, but hugs her back. She can hear the dwarves making little relieved noises at the fact that he is alive and well. “I thought we’d left you back there,” Cassia sobs. "I thought you were dead!"

“I know,” he mumbles. “But you didn’t. I’m perfectly fine!"

“We’d given you up!” Kili cries, relief clear in his voice.

“How on earth did you get past the goblins?” Fili queries. Cassia pulls back from Bilbo. That is a very good question.

“Bilbo?” she asks.

Her brother flounders for a moment, before Gandalf speaks up. “Well,” the wizard says, “what does it matter? He’s back!”

“It matters,” Thorin declares, eying Bilbo suspiciously. “I want to know. Why did you come back? Was it just for your sister?”

Cassia finds herself frowning. As angry as she still is with the dwarf king, he does have a point. Bilbo had seemed quite ready to up and leave immediately after the giants, and ready enough to drag her with him. Perhaps he still means to leave, but was unable to without her. She peers at Bilbo. He sighs.

“Part of it was for Cassia. She’s my sister. I can’t abandon her. And… and I know you doubt me. I know you always have.” He glances around at the other dwarves. “And you’re right. I often think of Bag End.” He shrugs. “I miss my books. And my armchair. And my bed. See, that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back. Because… you don’t have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back, if I can.”

There is a silence, and no one says anything, waiting for Thorin, who just looks at Bilbo for a long time. Then, to everyone's surprise, he nods his head to Bilbo, in a sign of thanks, and perhaps a little bit of respect. The relief that washes over the Company is palpable. But it doesn't last for long.

All of a sudden, from up the mountain, there comes the far too familiar howling of wargs. Cassia’s heart leaps in her throat. Not again! Not now!

“Out of the frying pan,” Thorin mumbles.

“And into the fire,” Gandalf finishes. “Run. Run!”

#fili friday #fili x oc #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #fili #kili #hobbit oc #fili x cassia #oc x canon #cassia baggins #my oc #my writing #an extra burglar

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goblinetiquette · 5 years ago

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When most creatures think of goblins they no doubt think of those of us who live in abandoned places not yet beset by adventurers.

However modern goblins have a diverse range of interests and many youngsters are choosing to settle down and build communities elsewhere.

City Goblins:

City goblins and are some of the quickest, fiercest and loudest of all goblins.

Their ability to navigate complex labyrinths is unrivalled.

They take advantage of the amenities offered by city living and their horde of found things is truly impressive.

Some have been known to make their lair deep in the store rooms of museums where the oldest and shiniest things are found.

The beauty of the city can be seen in the rainbow slick of oily puddles, scribbled street art, bright lights and tiny hidden places.

The city's numerous pigeons act as friend, communication system or flappy menace (possibly all at the same time).

Countryside Goblins:

Country goblins live in wooded and rural areas.

Such areas allow for a lifestyle rich in foraging for toadstools, frog spotting and screaming at cows.

Allies and enemies are in ample supply and many a country goblin will nurture a long grudge with a particularly aggressive squirrel.

The countryside and it's selection of cool ponds, muddy puddles and mossy fallen trees suits many a goblin.

Country goblins are not lacking in natural treasures to horde, they brew the best acorn coffee and cook the most delicious stews.

Library Goblins

These are the quietest and stealthiest of goblins.

They choose to make their homes wherever books are found in abundance.

Library goblins build nests of old reference cards and periodicals, here they repair and horde those books which are neglected and unloved.

These goblins are close allies of librarians who appreciate the work they do in keeping the library clean of mess and in quietly but viciously attacking all those who break library rules.

Seaside Goblins

A small but growing population of goblins are choosing to live in coastal areas.

Caves, coastal dunes, beach huts, boats and unattended holiday homes offer a surprising number of places for a goblin to build a home.

A coastal goblin is never short of seafood for supper and enjoys clambering over rocks to hunt for mussels and cockles.

Hordes of sea glass, beautiful shells and drift wood are often supplemented by pirate gold.

Ancient mariners curses are of little worry to goblins and seagulls were long considered the coastal goblin's greatest threat. However after years of hard work, diplomacy and angry shouting a truce has been reached. Several young goblins have declared themselves 'leader of the seagulls' and have succeeded in marshalling flocks to commit daring raids of shiny things and chips.

Technological Goblins

The digital realm is unfathomably huge and here one can find both friend and foe. A goblin must be wily and skilled to navigate such a landscape whilst avoiding the gremlins and trolls lurking in the shadows.

Technological goblins have gained unprecedented access to ancient knowledge and are often be confused with sorcerers due to their uncanny knowing of technomancy.

Many enjoy hoarding digital items alongside or instead of a more a traditional goblin horde. The collection of images, moving pictures, songs and stories maintained by these goblins is beyond compare.

If it becomes necessary to relocate such a horde takes up no space at all and is easily moved.

The work done by these youngsters in hunting down and preserving the best of things is undoubtedly a great service to all of goblin kind.

#goblincore #goblin #goblin things

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courtorderedcake · 5 years ago

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Hallow ch xvi - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch xvi / ?? - In which there is a heartbreak

Emma stood next to him in the terrible nightmare that the Darkness used as punishment, his birth as the Dark One and his greatest failure all in one. Watching and scanning the sea for his brother's face, the knowledge that he died not knowing it was by the hand of his brother was worse than any death, torture, punishment, or any perverse mixture of all three he had ever received at the hand of his demented and drunken father. The Darkness always reminded him that Liam had died in pain, died confused, died in blinding violence.

He felt her hand touch his, wishing he wasn't rooted to the spot and forced to relive this. Beyond that, he wished Emma had not seen this, even if she would forget upon waking. There was no way back from knowing what he had done, and seeing her horrified reaction was more than enough confirmation of that. When the nightmare finally ended, it faded to an eerie whiteness. Everything was still, thick with silence. Emma was nowhere in sight. The only evidence of her being real were the strips of skirt wrapped around where he had been sliced open.

"Hello?"

His voice echoed, the only noise in the vast space. There was nothing else to do but walk, hoping he reached a destination. As he walked, he noticed it becoming steadily colder as snow began to fall. It crunched under his feet, blending in with the white of the expanse while he fought through it. It began to grow denser and thicker, rising up until it was up to his knees, then thigh. A long moan came from somewhere nearby, his ears picking up a few other wheezing and strained sounds of suffering as he crunched through the icy snow.

Slipping slightly, he fell forward and his hand met the icy floor he'd been walking on. At first he thought it was an icicle or branch, freezing cold, and his fingers traced up the limb to where it tapered into a hand and grasping fingers. He pulled back and there was a snapping sound, the face of a naval gunner he had shared beer with rising to meet his. Except Private Scott was not the ginger haired and freckled just turned man he remembered. Instead, he was gray blue, his eyes long since gone and only stringy bits of matted hair stuck to his head. His face was beset in wrinkles as he groaned and clawed at Killian, his jaw snapping with its few teeth.

Killian flung him back, but the snow was breaking apart, ice cracking to give way to water below. Ships, his brothers at arms, and wreckage broke through and began to rise up around him, his instincts kicking in with full force. He ran, avoiding the shambling creatures as they reached for him, maneuvering as best he could until he came to a steep shelf of ice. The corpses of his fellow seamen made easy work of trampling through the snow toward him, and it would be only minutes until hundreds of them were on top of him, seeking their pound of flesh.

Digging his heels into the wall of ice, he found footholds and swung up, managing to grab a strong ledge to pull himself up a few feet, away from the beginning crowd that reached for him. Not willing to test if they could climb, he pulled himself up higher still, his hands struggling to find purchase the further up he went. He was maybe 4 meters above the growing crowd now, the crest another 3 or so above him. Taking the chance, he looked down. The wraiths were no longer looking at him, but staring at a fast approaching figure that was surrounded by an approaching blizzard. They parted as he came near, the sword in his half bone hand immediately making him colder than any frostbite.

Liam's half rotted face, with one angry blue eye focused on his perch roared the question he dreaded most.

"Why, Killian?!"

Killian began to scramble, hands searching for even the smallest bit of a crevice to pull up with, his feet kicking in the ice to create any foothold. He heard a sword connect to the ice below, and watched Liam gain a fast lead with his bone and steel. The men below began echoing Liam's cries of why, and Killian felt water freeze to his cheeks as fear of the situation over took his senses. Taking a breath, he tried to settle himself.

Emma was in danger, and she was more important than letting himself die here, or fall prey to this terrible nightmare. He had to go. With great effort, he jumped and prayed for his hand to meet something, anything to hold on to.

His fingers curled around a small raised edge, and he swung himself up, the next hold easy to grip. The top was in sight and he was almost there.

A bony hand gripped his ankle. He looked down to see Liam's angry and disappointed face, his brother broken to the point of falling apart in front of him like wetted plaster.

"Why brother? Why!?" Liam rasped, and Killian closed his eyes as he prepared himself.

"I'm sorry, Liam." Killian kicked hard, the blizzard below swallowing his brother and all the many phantoms that had appeared.

He reached the top, gazing out ahead. The snow was deeper still up here, but there was no noise, only the stillness from before. The wind blew in earnest, sending snow sideways as it began to fall faster. It became harder to walk, and even more disgusting was the realization that the icy floor of corpses had made his previous journey easier. With no purchase, he sunk into random pockets, sometimes as deep as his shoulders.

He heard a tiny whimper when he was sure he would freeze.

"Emma?" Killian prayed it was not another bout of the dead.

The noise came again, louder. It sounded as if it was right beneath him and he began to dig numbly, pushing down to touch a smooth surface. Clearing it of more snow, he revealed a mirror's rounded corner. The surface was dark as he pushed snow to the side frantically, hearing the muffled sobbing clearer as he pushed.

A faint glow emitted from what seemed to be the middle, and he saw Emma's bound form, while Nil -

The nightmare she had begged to be saved from was worse than anything he had imagined, fury racing through him. Killian threw his fists down on the surface of the mirror, standing to drop himself as the glass cracked. Her noises through the gag were like daggers as he pushed at the surface, her whimpers while her arm muscles flexed in struggle making him desperate to reach her. The Nil her nightmare created stroked long fingers up her neck as she screamed, Killian roaring as he smashed harder with his shoulder. Emma stared away from where the creature pawed at her, unaware of Killian, unaware that he was trying to get to her. She had been so scared, and now he understood why she could not sleep, why she had woken up in screams. The ripping sound of her nightgown made him more frantic. He could hear her breathing through her nose, words and cries warble by the cloth bind she chewed at, the chains rattling.

Nil yelled something, pointing from the shadows to Emma. The Dagger glinted in his hand and Killian saw himself, shrouded in thick black smoke put a hand over her mouth. Emma cried in panic, Nil's voice unclear through the shattering of glass. The Dark One below looked up with a grin, holding her leg down as well. Emma looked up at the Dark One, pleading, but he only laughed. Shreds of her nightgown fell to the floor, Nil trailing fingers down her body as she tried to squirm away.

Nil bent, long tongue out and glistening, just as Killian crashed through to land in the bed. Noise erupted everywhere, Nil yelling as Killian scrambled to free her, ripping away bindings at her wrists and pulling the gag from Emma's mouth. Nil fiddled with something heavy, lifting it in Killian’s peripheral, unable to see what it was clearly as he struggled with the binds. They seemed to tighten and move on their own like snakes resisting his handiwork.

"Look out!" she screeched, and he rolled as a thick bolt wedged itself into the headboard between them. Nil cursed, Killian noting the triggered crossbow he was using as he scrambled to unshackle Emma’s legs, each chained to one side of the bed. Emma sat up and immediately struggled with the other leg, trying to fight off the Dark One's attempts to subdue her. Wielding the weapon, Nil pointed it at Killian.

"Don't touch my play things, especially this one. I'll let you have a turn once I'm bored," Nil hissed, grinning his sharp toothed grin.

The click came, the bolt hitting flesh with a wet thunk. The Dark One howled, Emma's kick to push him into the path of the bolt sparing Killian as he freed her foot. She panted in exertion from the kick, Killian pulling her through a doorway. Locking the door behind them, Killian barricaded it with tables as Emma slid to the floor with her knees brought up to her chest. The pounding on the door went quiet, the blue dim of early morning light flooding through the decorated windows revealing dust motes as their only company. Pushing a huge cake table in front of the door, he blinked.

"We're in -"

"Yeah. The Arendelle's bakery," Emma mumbled, finishing his sentence for him. "This is my other nightmare. I have - there's a few, now."

She shivered, and Killian became aware that she was nude once again. He looked around for something to cover her with. His shirt was in tatters and wet, as were his trousers, they were a complete loss to her at this point. He looked toward the stairs and debated if he should risk Anna or Elsa's room. Emma seemed to sense his thinking.

"Please don't leave me. If we separate, I might have to… I could get sent back to that place, to him, and I can't Killian."

Sitting next to her and gathering her tightly in his arms he nodded. "I don't blame you. I'm sorry - I wish I had known and could have done something for you besides making you feel safer."

"I've always woken up before he - " she began, starting to shake. She looked fragile, more than breakable, the color gone from her skin. Bruises bloomed in earnest, and she bled from several lacerations that had smeared to dry like rust on her skin, either by her hand or… His blood began to boil.

"Did he - in this place did he -"

"Further than my nightmares, but not… Not that," Emma whispered.

"I -" Killian swallowed thickly. "I wish I knew what to say, or how much I… I'm so sorry. I tried to get to you -"

"I had no doubt that you were trying to find me. It's not your fault it wasn't fast enough," Emma whimpered. Killian stood, grabbing a tablecloth from the cake table. Finding the center of it and ripping, he placed it over her head like a cloak.

"It won't do for a societal debut, but we're past that, yeah?" he murmured, smoothing her hair and wiping away tears. "Can you tell me about this so we -"

"It's about my failure. I failed Elsa, and how I fear I will fail my family." Emma sniffed, pulling the fabric snugly around her body. "A group of neverending Goblins kills Elsa in front of me, and I can't - I just have to watch, no matter how many I dispatch. I have to choose who is going to live, who I heal first, but they all die; something fails or worse . It cycles through my family and I…"

"Oh, love. I - Emma, I'm so sorry sweet - "

"I want to give up so badly, instead of seeing this. I would have if not for you being here." Emma leaned against him, taking a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can take much more of this."

"You could, because you have yet to fail against any challenge I've seen you face - but it's no reason to press your luck." He smiled wanly but she did not return it.

Elsa's scream echoed in the bakery, glasses shattering in displays and windows. Helping Emma stand shakily, they walked together toward its origin. Just as she said, Elsa cowered as a Goblin readied his sword to plunge down into her chest. Killian tried to move but his feet planted him firmly to the spot rendering him unable to help. Emma moved instinctively, but was too late as she and Killian watched the sword push through Elsa, jutting out of the wound that lay below the blue of her dress. His voice thundered in the skies, calling Emma useless as she tried in vain to staunch blood. Her family joined the fray and soon Emma was forced to leave a still gasping Elsa to try and help another, forced to choose who would possibly die and possibly survive based on screams alone.

Finding his voice, he yelled at Emma to come back.

"It's a nightmare," He reminded her as gently as he could manage with the noise around them. "I know that it's horrible to watch, but help me find us a way out."

Emma nodded, leaving a woman that reached out to her in pain with a grimace. As she ran toward him, a blur of blue pounced on her. The movement was impossibly fast, a spider on its kill, giving neither Killian or her time to react. Elsa grabbed Emma, white braid going to black in places, while a red pendant appeared around her neck.

"I WON'T LET YOU, I WON'T, I WON'T, I WON'T!" Cruella shrieked as she began to drain Emma again. Killian raced toward them, Cruella giggling as Emma's makeshift dress changed into an ivory velvet one. Her red nails dug into Emma's skin, as Cruella was held back, Emma's arms buckling by the second. A glass coffin rose around her as they fought, Cruella thrown off of her by a kick squarely planted against her chest. Emma fell backwards in the velvet lining as her chest bled through the ivory gown, his feet too slow while this memory resurfaced, the players changed.

Instead of the would be Queen Snow in her cursed slumber, Emma struggled in the coffin as green smoke grew around her. She shook her head as it bared down, until her breath rushed out despite her attempts and she drew in the plume through her lips. It seemed to flood into her as Cruella began her cackle, rising to push it into her as Emma's back arched. Her chest filled with it, and she went into a stillness that echoed her mother's, a scene that played out so long ago. Where Cruella loomed, the Goblin King had stood to strike the would-be queen, Snow Margueryte, dead. He had watched David N'lan, Prince of the Forests of Fae, come to her aid from behind the shocked Goblin's back as the Dark One. It was where he had felt the shattering of the Vorpal Dagger, where True Love’s magic had blinded him with its sheer power, and where it had almost destroyed the Darkness as it shrieked in his ears.

Emma's chest did not rise as Cruella grinned wide, her hand raised high with those sharp talon-like nails glinting as she readied them to strike. Even with a few missing, they looked vicious, razor like. He ran, ran as he had seen the King do in the past, and with what he hoped was the same determination.

Emma wasn't breathing. He had to save her. He'd do anything, anything to save her, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she would do the same and he felt his breath catch at the thought of her not opening her eyes -

Light flooded through him when his lips touched Emma's, her gasped breath parting them and causing a great exhale. Cruella shrieked, shielding her eyes as she seemed to burn away, leaving in her place only a tendril of green smoke over a pile of black gunk.

It reminded him of the Darkness as it hung on just barely under the same brightness, digging itself in but leaving its vessel stunned and leaving its powers wrecked. When Killian woken long after the marriage of the new rulers, it was to a cave cell filled sparsely with items, a sentence to be carried out until the world ceased turning. The Darkness had begun its careful planting of seeds once more, forced to drive out every part of the man that might return in its now weakened state. It broke him, belittled him, bent him as the seasons changed. Centuries passed. It was a tortured existence, falling into madness instead of sleep or rest, only being forced to relive the worst of his emotions. He lost all hope in that cell.

He knew this nightmare ended differently, now.

A princess had made her way down the carved stone steps, and given him a chance at something greater than the nightmare could ever be. She gave him the chance to find himself again in this dream world, and to save her life. It would never be enough, and he would save her life as many times as he could.

"I knew you felt the same," Emma whispered, his forehead lowering to rest against her own. "I don't need your words. Even if I don't remember, even if I forget all of this… Part of me will always know that our love could be true."

"I wish that I could give you this." He stroked her cheek. "You deserve this."

"So do you, Killian. More than anyone, so do you." Emma kissed him chastely, his hand finding hers to carefully lift her from the coffin. A movement caught his eye, and he pushed her behind him.

The strange viscous black slime Cruella left behind lurched, growing larger as it gained mass rapidly, forming itself as an entity that swirled in wet blobs to fill itself. The giant creature took on a lumpy shape, arms and legs sticking out in strange places as it moved. A husk mask appeared on its face, a mouth opening in a grin that showed its mismatched teeth. Lilly's description of the creature Cruella had brought to life was apt. The hungry ghosts happily took the place of his Darkness, boiling themselves into the original shape it had once worn, his last nightmarish fear realized. It would come for him, own him once more - and he had to let it.

The Darkness roared in the voice of the ghosts, its bubbling body devouring the land like molten lava. Claw like hands dug into earth as it pulled itself forward.

Emma tried to hold him back from retaking it. "Don't go. We can fight it. It isn't even your Darkness, it is that thing, that starved thing! Please, we'll figure out some way for us to -"

"I have to. If this is a nightmare, my nightmare , let me keep you from it."

"But - Killian, I -" The hillside cracked, Emma barely moving in time as the cliff fell into the sea, both of them running towards the sand of the seashore. The Darkness howled, right on their heels as Emma was thrown to the sand and he was lifted by needle sharp fingers. He could hear Emma screaming, but couldn't see her face, the Darkness filled his vision as it tossed him into the roiling mass.

Hateful eyes surveyed him while deft hands stained black pulled him apart to press the cracks with themselves, the Dark Ones from all times and all places wrapping around him, the beaten and abused spirits that hungered for anything to fill themselves with, breaking bones to knit them back together with their damned souls, and he was gone, pushed deep below in dark waters. Murk and brackish waves above let no light in, the water forcing itself into him, Darkness everywhere, mocking him as it flexed his fingers.

"No, no, no." His voice and not, duality that made him sound amused as he laughed and stalked towards Emma. She scooted back on wet sand, but his hands flicked in a come hither gesture, dragging her towards him. "No," it cooed in his voice. "My hands. Our hands. Our magic - do you see worm, what we could do if only we were free?"

I don't want this, I don't want any of your reckoning -

"Yes you do. Let's see. I know, let's sweep your lady love off her feet, shall we?" Another flick of his wrist and Emma was in the air, struggling and gasping.

Stop, stop it, leave her alone!

"Does she hold your heart? Is that why you are so attached to her?" the Darkness asked, curiosity laced in its voice.

I -

"Rhetorical question you simpleton, The Dark One doesn't have a heart. So, why don't we hold hers?" Emma was before him in a moment, toes dragging against the sand as she struggled with the grip on her neck. "I hope you don't mind, darling, but I am not taking the rings off. So much for being gentle."

There was no time to process, his hand plunging through her skin, right into her chest, her body trembling as her struggling stopped at once. Emma's eyes were so wide, her mouth parted in a gasp of pain as his fingers closed around her heart. It thumped wildly in his grip as he tugged, the whimper that she made like a poker through his own.

Please stop, please, please don't hurt her.

"Oh, but don't you want to hurt her?" The Darkness pulled her heart from her chest with a grin, Emma crying out and falling to her knees. The heart, her heart, was warm in his palm, now beating wildly as she searched his face. A tentative squeeze made her lurch forward, one hand plastered against her chest.

Emma choked out his name, and revulsion filled him. He couldn't speak or form words for fear of what it would do as it tutted at his reaction.

"Oh, you weak little man. You know this feels good. It feels right, you have so much power in your grasp! We control her!" the Darkness hissed in triumph.

"You don't control me," Emma rasped. "You barely control Killian. You're a parasite."

Emma's defiance had him screaming, pulling against the Darkness with no success, its power too much as he yelled with only it as an audience.

Don't hurt her, hurt me, do what you want to me, but please don't hurt Emma. Please not Emma, stop, please -

The movement was quick, but her reaction was slow. The Darkness squeezed her heart in one sharp jerk, the red glow brightening before his fingers curled around and it was dim.

"We'll see about that, won't we?"

I beg you, please, please don't -

His hand resisted for the briefest moment, but the Darkness fought his control with a vengeance. His influence fell away, the Darkness gleefully squeezing without pause. There was a pop, just a tiny noise of pressure. Emma's mouth moved but if she spoke he couldn't hear, couldn't hear last words if she had any because of the cackle of this thing inside him that took and took - Dust fell through his fingers, laughter that was not his own filling the space as Emma crumpled.

Killian screamed without stop, in control again as he crawled to her side. Emma looked peaceful, so peaceful, as if she was only resting next to him like so many times before. She wasn't dead, couldn't be gone, no - it was too much. Rage filled him, followed by a flush of shame and self hatred that the Darkness multiplied. This was his fault. He was weak, he fell for the pitfall of caring about someone. Every time he cared for someone they ended up hurt, and in his selfishness, he had forgotten.

The Darkness was him, his veins coated with its power. They were the same, the same fury and the same hatred that lashed out at others. How had he forgotten? There was nothing left of him from before, not even a scrap. This dream turned nightmare was never to be, impossible in their reality.

Nobody could care for the Darkness, and the Darkness did not, could not, care for another without consequences. What use was this memory, any of their memories, the moments of tranquility where they were together, when the ending would always be a reminder of his fate.

"That's right, that's right you insolent and dreaming imbecile. You thought you could be happy, that you could escape me even in dreams? You signed up for this. You know how wonderful it is to be free, to take, to plunder. You know our rightful place is wherever we can destroy the most light."

Yes. I know. I only destroy, I only bring despair.

"Good, good. We only bring desecration . We crush everything in our path and snuff out anything that dares defy us. Even your princess."

She was never mine.

The dagger was warm in his palm and warmer still pushed roughly into his chest. It should not be able to hurt him in his own hands, but here in this nightmare it let him extricate both himself and this power. It showed him its dreams, of screams and chaos and fire and smoke. Emma was never there, no, he was alone with his madness as it should be. Their connection further sealed, no longer Killian or the Darkness, the Dark One faded into the waking world.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

"Your boyfriend has quite the nightmare, princess," Isaac drawled, nodding as Emma stood up from where she was left and began dusting herself off. Killian had thought her dead, but just as before, she was unable to escape from her prison by death at the hands of another.

When she didn't reply, he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "I still don't know how you both figured it out so fast, and destroyed it even faster. This was a paradise for you two. You could have gotten lost, had thousands of happy endings, of growing old, having children, getting married. It could have been great, perfect even -"

"Isaac, you don't get it, do you?" Emma motioned to where Killian had crumpled moments before, a sad smile gracing her features. "I know that he is real. Not everything can be perfect, can be sunshine and smiling and rainbows. That isn't love. Love is seeing the best in someone despite the worst, and love is holding them to be better. It's not you changing them, it's holding the person accountable for their own actions. It’s letting them grow into something better than what they were before. Only they can change, and only if they want to."

"But these were your dreams, they were your wishes, both of you! Why would you pass up living out your fantasies?"

"Besides you siphoning off my magic and making me an amnesiac husk?"

Isaac shrugged. "Fair."

"As much as I… As much as we wish things were different, or dream that we met under different circumstances, it does not change our reality. I want that reality, I want the mess, and the broken pieces, and the hurt. It's real, and it's imperfect, and the imperfection of it makes it so much more. Both of us have walls, have fears so great that the deepest ocean couldn't contain them. We both are forced to be something, we both have to choose, and I can see now how much it must hurt him. This wish to be who he was before? You can't go back to before, you can only go forward. I want to go forward knowing that he's fighting for us, fighting for himself, through what feels like impossible odds. I have faith in him, and I know that he has the strength to win against that monster."

Isaac shook his head. "It doesn't matter in the end. You're free. As long as you wake yourself up calmly, this dream finally ends." With a final impish shrug he disappeared, waiting for her to wake.

Emma walked towards where Killian had fallen, his hand still clutching the dust of her heart.

"You absolutely ridiculous fool. You got me through this, losing yourself so I could make it out of here." Tears came unbidden as she propped him up gently. "How many times did you try and save me at the expense of your own soul? I promise, I swear, I will always try to find you underneath all of the Darkness. I choose to see the real you, the good, even if I don't remember. I will always find you, Killian. Don't give up just yet. There's not a day that will go by where I won't think of you, won't try to remember who you are. "

Emma pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, then stood to dry her tears. The tide had slowly risen and now lapped at Killian’s boots, the hem of her gown wet. Lilly appeared to her right, and Emma regarded her with a nod.

"You don't have to do this Emma. I was - you don't have to -"

"Lilly, I am choosing to see the best in you too." Emma plucked a stone from the shore, its smooth face cold from the water. Taking a deep breath, Emma pressed everything she had into the rock, pouring out her magic to weave it into the spell they had created to break the barrier. Giving up the remainder made her feel weak and empty, but anything to protect it from Cruella was worth it. It glowed fiercely, warm in her hands. When she could give no more, she pressed the rock into Lilly's palm. "Do what is right."

Lilly stared down at her feet, the tide now brushing their ankles. Killian’s body was gone, the impression in the sand almost completely devoured by the waves.

"I'm so sorry, Emma. I should have never, I mean -"

"You did what you had to do to protect your family. Your people." Emma took a dizzy step forward, and then another. "I don't begrudge you. Now you have the chance to do something good, to expose Cruella and her lies. Don't waste it."

"What will happen to the husks, and the Hungry Ghosts?"

Emma stopped, looking out over the water. "I don't know," she admitted, letting her shoulders drop. "I want to hope for the best, that some will return once Cruella is taken care of and the barrier is gone, but I honestly don't know."

Lilly nodded, and was gone.

Emma kept the slow, steady pace as she walked further into the cool depths, sighing as the water began to hold her weight. Her body felt exhausted, so weak and tired to the bone. There would be no swimming, there was barely a shuffle of her feet. She could no longer see where Killian had lain, and soon could barely see the waves as they hit her face. Her feet no longer scraped the sand, but she pressed on, letting the water take her under like an old friend's embrace. There was nothing more to fear, no more nightmares to face. They had won. She should be happy, she shouldn't feel like she was losing a part of herself against her will.

The ocean was blue, giving comfort by way of reminding her again who she was losing.

Light greeted her, the form of a door rising from shimmering fog, a gentle knocking coming from the other side in a pattern. Three long wraps, and four consecutive short bursts of quick knocks, something she hadn't heard since childhood in the palace when they played on their secret missions -

"Henry?" she asked, pulling open the door. On the other side, Henry greeted her in the form she had known him in the longest, the small boy with eyes far older and wiser than they should be.

"Are you Emma, Princess of pranks on poor, unsuspecting, dignitaries?" he asked cheekily, and she swept him into a hug. "Okay, please, okay - this is really weird when I can only see your energy. Please stop."

Emma set him down, and then confusion set in quickly.

"How are you here in the dreamscape? Are you part of a nightmare? Where is Killian, is he -"

"Whoa. Whoa. Time out." Henry moved his hands in the form of a large 'T'. "I have no idea where here is, I just assumed you were dreaming, so no, and no. Regina helped me escape the palace with Jacinda. We came to help you if we can. As for Killian, I have no idea of the Dark One's location, is he pursuing you? Are you safe?"

"I'm safe, well, I will be. Is everyone alright at the palace? I think I might have talked to my mom, but I don't know if anyone else is okay, and it's driving me mad. It's been… It'll be closer to a year -"

"Time is screwed up without us elementals, holy… No, there only a fortnight has passed. Almost a year? Frigg this is going to take forever to clean up." He ran his hand through his hair, in a decidedly stressed out adult gesture. "Last time I saw your mom was a week ago in this realm's time, when we escaped. As of then, everyone at the palace was doing the best they could. We were all confident of your success."

Emma winced. "I wouldn't say success. It's been… It's been difficult. Killian and I have rallied a few to our side, but they are currently cleaning up more damage from our visits than being in a position to help…"

"Oh Emma, I wish you had a better companion who could actually help you navigate through the proper decorum -"

"Oh, no, you misunderstand. Killian is amazing at that, most of the courtly attitudes are completely different now than before. I mean, I am on Selune Island under a sleeping curse currently, because a Kitsune has been stealing magic from her people for herself to escape the wards."

There was a long pause, Henry simply staring at her and chewing his tongue as if it might bleed words.

"Well then."

"It's been… Yeah." Emma laughed. "Let me say that my mother's way of doing things has had more consequences than none. Killian has helped to show that I will not follow in her footsteps. He helped me make a ward spell that will keep the island safe while allowing the denizens freedom to leave under the guise of inclement weather. It's genius, he's brilliant actually - "

"Oh my Gods, Henry," a woman's voice said in a tone of disbelief. "She's in love with the Dark One?"

Henry visibly stiffened, his eyes shutting as he grimaced. "Jacinda," he hissed out, "You should not eavesdrop -"

Emma sighed. "She's right. It was an accident, and I beg of you to help me now that you're here. I'm going to wake up soon, and when I do, I won't remember any of this. I fell in love with the man surviving with the Darkness and I believe he is there, we just have to get that thing in control. I don't want to forget, I can't lose him again."

"Again? What happened under this sleeping curse -" Henry began, but Emma continued.

"When he wasn't in the dreams I had, or they took him from me and hurt him, I felt like I couldn't breathe. It made me feel like my chest was cracked open, my heart actually breaking. That was in dreams, I can't imagine that pain in reality. I walked into the sea to get away from the nightmare of losing him, I don't want to wake up to another. Please Henry. I beg of you."

Henry shifted uncomfortably, and in a blink was a man standing in front of her. "Oh, Emma. I am so sorry. I don't know if I can -"

"I can." The raven curled beauty appeared next to him, very heavily pregnant, kissing his cheek. "Regina helped get us free, and my magic came roaring back. I could use a challenge to make sure it still works, and as you can see, Astral projection and dream magic is my forté. Much less boring than time magic, too."

Henry grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Jacinda, you outdo yourself. Let me help anyway I can."

There was a bright flash that left Emma stumbling with her eyesight stolen, and after a few moments Henry's voice sounded above her.

"Jacinda says - She says you should remember now, but it will take a bit of time," Henry paused, and made a small clucking noise of concern. "Actually more time than that -"

Jacinda's voice covered Henry's murmurs, full of worry.

"Emma what did you do?"

"Jacinda says that you are weaker than you should be - "

Jacinda interrupted, voice frightened. "Far weaker is an understatement. Something is growing in you, I've never seen anything like it before. It's as if it's made of a dark hatred."

"What does that mean?" Emma asked, her blood running cold.

"Listen, stay calm. We will find you. Get to Agrabah, it's accessible from there through a portal in the sea. Hurry, by then you'll be pushing it, deteriorating quickly most likely. Gods, Henry, she won't remember this until it's too late -"

"Emma." Henry's voice was serious, but reassuring. "Some type of creature, a vampire, lich, or other magic eating beast has been drinking from you heavily and has left you poisoned with some foul parasite. It's larval right now but it's going to get worse as it steals your breath and slows your heart. We can't hold this much longer, but get to Agrabah. Don't waste any magic, and try to remember to stay calm. We will find you."

"Cruella. She's the one who cursed me, she's a Kitsune. Henry what do I do - if I don't remember, how will I know?" Emma asked, panicking.

"I hope you are right, and that there's a man underneath that Darkness. You're going to need someone's love and attention to keep you alive until we can get to you," Henry said grimly.

"He does, I'm confident that he will be able to fight for me. I promise, I'll see you both again -"

"Of everything, remember this: You must get to Agrabah, you will remember, and the Dark One holds your fate."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Emma blinked awake, air rushing into her lungs. Everything was too bright, her limbs too stiff, voices too loud as she tried to focus on two that seemed important. The first was growing weaker, a steady whisper that she could barely hear. It glinted like a lost treasure as she turned it over in her mind's eye.

Get to Agrabah. You will remember. The Dark One -

The other voice she held in focus drowned out the end, his raspy words and calloused hand on her cheek grounding her in reality. He shook her slightly and she groaned out a noise through her parched throat.

"Emma, princess, are you awake, please wake up -"

"Killian." Her mouth was dry, tongue like sandpaper. "Please stop that immediately."

He laughed, hugging her tightly, and the other voice fell from her lips in a whisper. The words were not the same, but she thought she might be close.

"Get to Agrabah. Remember the Dark One."

"Hm?" Killian asked, pulling away.

Emma held her pounding head in her hands, finally looking up at him when she had taken a deep breath.

"We have to get to a place called Agrabah."

#Hallow #CSSNS #CSSNS 2019 #Captain Swan #Courtorderedcake #CS AU #Captain Swan AU #I hate parts of this chapter #They were a bitch to write #but I love parts of this chapter #it has some of my oldest writing for this story #So good #CS FF #CS AU FF #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanart

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waywardroserp · 4 years ago

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Wayward Rose’s inhabitants have come out to celebrate the annual Lunar Festival, an event that’s been celebrated since the city’s founding to commemorate the alliance werewolves made with Wayward Rose’s original founders. In all corners of the city, everyone has come out to celebrate the Festival. The Council has thrown a party at L’Enfer in celebration. It seems the day will be chock full of festivities and rambunctious celebration as well as magical fireworks in the evening. ( Be assured that though noisy, these fireworks will not set the town ablaze. )

But as night falls on Wayward Rose and the moon replaces the sun and the wolves make for their annual run through the woods: something strange has beset the city’s residents.

The full moon illuminates the city, the sky lighting up in a purple-blue haze with stars littered all around. As beautiful as the sight is, the moon has done something to the people of Wayward Rose. They feel strange, as if something has changed within them.

There is an almost uneasy feeling in the air as the towns inhabitants slowly begin to experience strange side effects after the fesival.

Please note: This is an on-going event as nothing happens too suddenly.

During this month of full moons and super moons, the veil between the fae realm and human world is thinner so fae creatures like sprites, gnomes, brownies, goblins - start showing up all over town. They make with the mischief but are relatively harmless. However, they have been known to harm residents in the past.

During this time every year the moons affect a wolfs strength and heat cycle - they can go into their heat early, or feel extremely frustrated and temperamental. Due to close proximity of werewolf chattel to others, this has been known to affect chattel regardless of species. ( This is optional and up to the player whether or not their character is affected one way or the other. )

Witches abilities are much more powerful through out the month, but can be triggered accidentally by emotion, or suddenly not work for a period of time. This is normal and the affects will fade. This has also been known to affect the chattel even when branded, and for this reason the witches are watched over carefully by guards so they don’t potentially harm themselves or others.

The smell of fae is stronger given the veil between worlds cracking. This can cause a vampire to lose control much easier or experience extreme hunger. Vampire residents are advised to avoid the fae and seek magic to curb their incessant hunger.

The angels and demons are weakened during this time, as if they can only take on the strength of the vessel they reside in.

The council is fully prepared for this, as it happens every year. There will be no uprisers, attempts of escape, or harm toward the town residents from outside sources. Anyone found doing so may face extreme punishment - however the mods encourage drama and rule breaking.

MOD NOTES:

There will be small plot drops throughout the month, leading up to the big Halloween event.

For the time being, Please tag your event starters with: Wayward.LunarFest

The festival itself will last between Oct. 7th, to Oct. 10th - after that, strange things start happening to Wayward’s residents.

**If players have any questions regarding the event or further ideas for the month, feel free to message the main!

#wayward.event #wayward.LunarFest #Event: Lunar Fest

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years ago

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In the beginning was MAMMON, a DEMON loyal to the cause of the DEMONS. They are said to be IMMORTAL and use THEY/THEM pronouns. In this New Testament they serve as a MEMBER of the VICES. Blessed be their name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

They do not care much for the title that they were granted when the realm of Infernum was instituted. They were given the title of the Vice of Gluttony, a title that was allegedly meant to be one of great pride and decorum. In truth, though, it means very little to Mammon -- what was a marvel was the effect it had on their abilities once they were anointed. Their abilities were once that of mimicry and shifting; in the Old World they were able to change their visage so that Old Scratch looked vastly different from the devilish goblin. Now, though, their abilities are far more coveted -- Mammon is able to mimic the unique ability of any angel, demon, or gifted that might think to use it against them. It is mirrored with a single touch, nothing more than a gentle brushing of the skin is all that needs to be afforded to them and the great advantage that they believed they held is suddenly stolen away. Mammon finds that they smile more and more often at the look on their opposer’s faces when they realize that Mammon, the Vice of Gluttony, is perhaps the cruelest Vice of them all.

THE HISTORY.

From the dark, inky blackness of Hell's pit, they were born. It was not into the notorious flames, nor was accompanied by a cacophony of wailing and grinding of teeth. The inception of their existence was within the darkest depths of Tartarus, so it is they, and they alone, who truly understands what it is to come forth from nothing. Hunger is an ache, pain is a most ardent yearning - but emptiness? True absence of all? To bear witness to that would have brought the most primordial deities to their knees, but to Mammon it was nothing more than a matter of fact -- like the vastness of the ocean or the unpredictability of existence. When they stepped into the dominion of Hell with the Morningstar deity sitting at its helm, they cared not for the politics nor the hierarchy that had been established, no, they cared only for the first glint of true, wondrous light. Not the light of hellfire, nor was it the light of the celestial bodies above, for they had yet to step foot upon the earth. It was the sliver of reflective light cast from a crown that caught their glazed eyes, gold and gleaming, intricate and detailed, sitting upon the undeserving head of a man who had once thought himself a revered and all-powerful king. From his head they plucked their crown, resting it upon their brow, and for the first shining moment of their existence, they felt something stir within them -- something brilliant, burning and insatiable dig into the flesh of their black heart and take hold. It shaped them, this yearning; like a sculptor, it chiseled away at the emptiness that had defined them, until they were made anew into something frightful, something beautiful -- something that, at its core, was an abomination.

It was not long before Mammon was acting upon the black desires of their heart, setting foot upon the earth and venturing into the throngs of man that parastically existed on its soil. There was no fascination felt upon meeting them, only amusement to be found -- a novel distraction from the emptiness which they had been born into and the futile politics that dictated the realm they called home. As they roamed the earth, they indulged their desires, collecting their treasures from those who were willing to part with them and those who were not. It was rather entertaining to see how their eyes bulged and spittle flew from their mouths in a rage when they believed that they had been robbed of what was rightfully theirs. Mammon would always ensure that there were seeds planted that incited frightful violence, from petty feuds to bloody wars. For eons, this is how they spent their endless existence, finding what pieces of novelty that they could in shedding blood and inciting an insatiable gluttony for treasure and entitlement that was the root of wars, starvation, and revolutions. They donned this persona and that, laughing as they watched the children of God turn themselves about in describing them and all their horrific tales -- Nick Scratch, Old Nick, the Old One, goblin, imp, and beast. Yet time and time again, they summoned them and called upon them to grant them libations and riches, to curve their voracious hungerings for power and decadence.

Upon the earth they had built their own kingdom, though they had no want in it of themselves, they had only ever desired to indulge the unknowable thing that had sunk its claws into their blackened, slow-beating excuse of a heart. It was not long before Lucifer caught wind of their renown, of the glory that they were stealing from him -- whether it be by Mammon’s own whim or not. They had merely laughed when summoned before the throne of Morningstar, spine straight, as unbending as the gluttony which they had instilled in the children of God. Into the pit of Tartarus you go, howled the fallen king of Hell gleefully, return to the emptiness that you call home. Lucifer had not known that all the while, Mammon had not felt an inkling of trepidation or remorse, for they had been so enraptured in disseminating the range of expressions of the court that looked on. They noted the disdain that hung on the edges of his subjects and underlings’ visages, how poorly Lucifer’s court disguised it and how deliberately he basked in his ignorance. Though they were cast away, it was not long before Mammon crawled from the pit, sloughing off the darkness that clung to them and desperately bid them to stay -- a blade put in their palm to cast the king from his place of honor and spit him from that which he claimed he had built. As they watched him wail and bemoan the insurrection, they felt their lips split into a little known and little practiced expression -- upon their face was painted a wide and gleaming grin.

The world that was remade was, in essence, the antithesis of the pit from which they had been made. It was fruitful, riotous, and with every breath it took it seemed to harken a new creation. What place in it Mammon had, they did not know -- and they did not care much, enraptured as they were with the way that it seemed to be an entity that lived and breathed as surely as they did. But there are moments when it seems to still, and those are the moments that stir discord within them; those moments of satiation, of contentment and harmony. It seems that now, the kingdoms have found their place with one another and were glad for the semblance of togetherness and respect that have been tediously cultivated over the centuries. It seems that now, the harmony of the world is no longer a fleeting ideal, but a fixated goal that they draw closer and closer to with each passing day. Do they not know that in harmony there is only emptiness? Do they not know that peace is the guise that true Death dons so that it might be welcomed with open arms and celebration of libations? They think of Mammon as an abomination birthed from a pit of emptiness -- little do they know that Mammon has seen the face of peace without its pretty accessories of euphemisms and allegories, without the idealistic pedestal it was placed upon. Mammon will see its death through, just as they saw Morningstar’s, and when they do it will be in much the same manner: with a blade in their palm and upon their face, a wide, gleaming grin.

THE CONNECTIONS.

GABRIEL: Unease. Over the span of their existence, there has been little reason for Mammon to truly learn the meaning of fear. They were birthed from Tartarus itself, after all -- the renowned prison for the atrocities of the universe to meet their end. Yet, whenever they encounter Gabriel, there is a certain chill that pervades them, a notable increase in the beating of their heart, and a subtle shiver that runs along their spine. Perhaps it is because they see nothing but the end within the creature’s eyes. They see how he longs to vanquish the abyss that resides within them, they see how he will not settle for anything less than the utter decimation of their existence. There is a certain romance to it, they think, to be the subject of one’s fixation. There is a hatefulness, a disgust, that runs so deep into his gaze that Mammon cannot help but find themselves caught within its throes. If there was ever an entity that might find a way to end Mammon’s existence, it is Gabriel -- so why, then, do they find themselves drifting into his vicinity time and time again?

ROMILDA ALTIER: Delectation. The spirit that pervades the Gifted creature’s whims is palpable -- it is bright and shining, utterly abundant in seething, searing warmth. Mammon remembers the shadows of their home, and even they think that Romilda’s light would have eviscerated any notion of darkness, so wholly and recklessly did she believe in herself. It was no question for Mammon, as to whether or not they would beset her with their presence, biting at her heels like a hound chasing its prey. Wherever Romilda seeks to find shelter, they follow -- lips upturned in a smile, eyes alight with poorly disguised delight. Their determination stems from their curiosity, wanting to bear witness to whatever might break the golden, shining ray in two -- what might be needed to sow within her a seed of darkness. They want to bear witness to the birth of the darkness as much as they want to bask in her golden light. The conflicting wants fill them with long sought-after intrigue. At what cost, though? At what cost?

REVNA VOLK: Curiosity. They like to make a show of themselves, it is true; they bask in the attention of all, so that the void within them might experience some semblance of satiation. But there is a peculiarly aggravating need for them to constantly have Revna’s attention. Her gaze is always heavy with deliberate concentration -- but moreover, whenever they talk to one another her words always seem stained with such melancholy. It is as though she looks at them and sees nothing but the truths that she longs to escape, the ghosts that she is too afraid to confront is the loneliness of the long hours of the night. The Gifted woman seems determined to rein in her obsession, but Mammon can’t help but enable it, utterly enraptured by the self-torture that she seems to delight in. They know it’s a rather cruel activity to partake in, but it’s not as though they’re the ones tying the noose around her neck, no. They are merely the ones handing her the rope.

GADRIEL: Wound. There has only ever been one instance where Mammon has found themselves bested. It was at the hands of Gadriel, in a fleeting spat over territories when the world was still fresh and ripe with the chaos of creation. They had executed every blow perfectly, thrilled at the clash of metal that was sounding in the clearing. It had become like a dance between the two of them -- when, suddenly, the sword was being held at their throat and she was looking upon them with an arched brow. It was the only time Mammon had found themself completely and utterly defeated. Without a word, she had let them go, neither of them breathing a word of her victory nor their defeat. But still, every time they are forced to regard her, they feel that wound fresh and bleeding still, the novelty of it all giving way to something far more malevolent. They no longer want to regain their pride, no, they want her begging and crawling at their feet. They hunger for it.

Mammon is portrayed by Noma Han and was written by ROSEY. They are currently TAKEN by EMMA.

#literate rp #new rp #fantasy rp #lsrpg #rpg #nb #d #mammon #cnb #c

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therealityhelix · 1 year ago

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By Talos, This Can't be Happening pt. 34

welcome to Tamriel tuesday! Maglir was right!

@cardwrecks @captainbaddecisions

?~?~?~?~?

“It says he defaulted! Defaulted! Who defaults on a contract this easy? Why would he go around telling people he's defaulted? Doesn't he understand how that makes us look?”

“Guest.” An olive complected man murmured. The Argonian's head snapped up to look at him.

“Heyyy...” Swag gave a little four fingered wave. “Am I interrupting something? Because I can leave.”

“No, no!” the Argonian called. “It's not that important. Come in!”

“Not that-!” the elf woman began indignantly. The Argonian cut her off.

“So, are you looking to join the Guild?” the Argonian asked quickly. “Or perhaps a recruit on the road? We have bed space, if that's what you need. I am Ah-Malz. This is Fadus, and Parwen.”

“Edward. I joined up in Chorrol.” No need to bring up the circumstances.

“Oh, under Vilena herself? They're friendly in Chorrol.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, you come to get some carnage under your belt? Round here, we hunt goblins. They're everywhere in Colovia. Most of our jobs involve them in some way or another.”

“Eh, well, I've had some experience with goblins, yeah. Only signed up like a week or so ago, though, so I'm still getting my feet under me.”

“Oh, you'll run into more if you stay in the area.” Ah-Malz assured. “Me and Parwen have a tally going-”

“Malz, we don't have time for this!” Parwen scolded. “We've got to do something about Maglir!”

“And what do you propose, Wennie?” Ah-Malz asked. “We break down the door of the inn and drag him out by the ears?”

“Maybe.” Fadus said quietly.

“You know he'd just run if he saw any of us.” Parwen grumped. “He knows he's in trouble. He'll bolt the instant he sees us in the window.”

Three sets of musing eyes settled on him, and Swag saw the future.

“Yeah, okay. I'll go get him. Not gonna recognize me, huh? Where is he and what does he look like?”

“Hey baby, come here often?” he teased sliding up next to her.

“Nah, hot stuff, I'm new in town. Maybe you can show me around.” she teased back. “But first, looks like I found that alchemist they mentioned back at Fort Virtue.”

“Hey great! I got sent to shake down an awol fighter. It think it's that shortstack over there.”

His eyes had landed on a short, broad figure in dented iron armor, sitting by himself next to a window he kept glaring suspiciously out.

“Oh, that sounds like a pain. Have fun!”

“Can I get you something?” the woman behind the bar asked, as he watched Helix slip into the cellar.

“Hmm. Got anything non-alcoholic? Aw, c'mon.” he said at her condescending stare. “I made a promise, all right?”

And now, so did he.

“Hey man, this spot taken?” he asked, and the elf glared up at him.

The elf grunted and glanced back out the window.

Swag set down his drink and took a seat.

“I only ask 'cause it seems like you're looking for someone.” he said.

“No one you're likely to know. What do you want, anyway?”

“A place to sit next to the window. My girl's wanting to talk to the alchemist here, so I might be waiting for a while.”

“Huh. Sounds like my wife when she gets into the fabric shop.”

“Ah. Looking for some time away?” Swag asked, nodding knowingly. Maglir shook his head.

“No, that's not it. She's lovely, really. Better than I deserve.”

“I know that feeling.”

“It's just that things are rough recently, and the assassination has made things many times worse.”

“Oh?” Swag raised one eyebrow. “Rough? Like, you havin' trouble getting work?”

Maglir scoffed.

“Work? Oh, yes, I can get work. What I can't get is pay! Look at this!”

The elf tossed a folded note across the table at him. He plucked it up and read over the contents.

“...A journal? Just that? A journal left in a cave? Who leaves a journal in a cave?”

“I don't know! Some fool mage, a hermit, a philosopher. Somebody did. I even went out there to get it, like a good little boot, and you know what I found?”

“Bats?”

“Monsters! Gobs of em! Barely even saw them, but almost lost my head! They sent me out there alone, into a cave full of monsters. It's like they want their recruits to die!”

“Who's they?” Swag asked. “Just so I can watch my back, you know?”

“Fighter's guild. I swear, you adventurers don't know much about organization, do you?”

Maglir grimaced.

Donton? Vilena's son? The boy had been alive when they'd left Chorrol, had something happened in the meantime?

“So basically, it's a strike.”

“So basically, I'm not going to die for a soggy book and a scant handful of coin. No, someone else can do this. You can do this, I don't care.”

Swag tucked the note into his belt. He wasn't sure he wanted to go into a monster infested cave in search of a soggy book either. But he could return the contract to the Guild at least.

Maglir complained for a while longer before finishing his drink and eventually leaving, but he left Swag with some interesting tidbits.

Looked like he'd come at a bad time.

Helix slid into Maglir's vacated seat and stole a pull of Swag's drink.

“Hello beautiful. Where have you been all my life?”

“So all the both of us got outta this was headaches. Oh well. It's not like we were gonna spend a whole lot of time here.”

Besides, Swag figured a group that was so gung-ho to count goblin heads could take on a cave of monsters without too much trouble. Unless, of course, they really had been setting Maglir up.

His razor was ready, and they managed to get their rations topped up, so they stopped by the Mages Guildhall for a quick lunch, and headed for the western gate.

He reached over the fence and plucked a deep red one.

“D'ya think you could grow this kind? In your house?” he asked.

“Unfortunately no. When we leave, we probably won't be able to take anything with us.” she said. “At least, that's how it worked last time.”

“Ah well.” Swag sliced the fruit in half and handed her a piece. “Snack for the road then.”

Which was how he was able to see the wolf coming.

It was huge and grungy, with an odd look in its eyes. At least, Swag thought it was odd; he'd never seen a wolf face to face before.

Swag bashed it with his fist.

His gauntlets flashed with dazzling light, a miniature crack of thunder, and the wolf staggered. Flesh sagged under the fur, fell away from the creature's head.

“The actual fuck?”

“It's a zombie!” Helix cried. Shouldering her bow, she flicked her hand out flinging a lighting bolt that blasted the undead beast apart.

“Ahg, that's fucking gross!” Swag hopped to his feet, shaking zombie bits off his armor. “It's not in my hair is it? Tell me it's not in my hair.”

Helix said nothing.

“Noooo, get it off!”

He leaned down, allowing her to pluck something from his head and toss it away.

“I need a million showers, and I need them right now.”

“We could go back to that little pond.” she suggested. Swag whined, and she took his hand, leading him back.

She rested on a rock while he washed, watching the horizon.

“See anything?”

“Are we sure we want to find out?”

“We might not be able to avoid it.”

“Then fuck it. So...why did my hand explode when I punched that thing?”

“Lemmie see your glove.”

Swag peeled off one of Rasheda's gauntlets and handed it over. She turned it over in her hands, closely examining the joints and stitches, making thoughtful sounds.

“Well?”

“Damn good workmanship. I didn't even notice until now. She's enchanted them with shock magic. She must've really liked you.”

Swag took the glove back.

“Yeah, we got along.”

“I heard. There were a few people who really wanted me to know. Didn't seem to believe me when I said I didn't care.”

Swag scowled.

“Not our problem if they don't understand us.”

“Nah, that's a them problem.”

She took his hand and they walked through the meadow, the honey scent of sun-warmed clover just barely covering an underlying whiff of rot.

?~?~?~?~?

#sartorial sorcery #by talos this can't be happening #swag!riddler #helix #elder scrolls

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