#and you can generally one hand a longsword if you want to

[superdaisypowerhour]

There are two schools of thought on the locked tomb series; there are the people who took tazmuir at her word when she said gideon had a longsword and drew it as such; then there are the people who know what a longsword is and know that the thing gideon swings is at the bare minimum a fucking claymore.

[hayatheauthor]

Have u done a post on anatomy of swordfight? Or like weapons in general. I have a lot of different weapons planned out: bow, different types of swords, daggers, shields, spears, etc. I can't find a single proper guide explaining how to write fight scenes for these that make sense.

The Anatomy of Writing a Sword Fight

Thank you for the ask! I really love your ideas/reqs and will be making at least 2 more blogs as a reply to this ask (that will cover bows etc). For now I've gone with swordfights.

This guide dives into the technical aspects of sword fighting—from the types of swords and injuries to the medical realities of treating these wounds.

My long-form posts are usually filled with long detailed paras but this time I wanted to focus more on the 'facts' and had a lot of things to cover so I stuck to concise pointers for each area. That being said, feel free to ask follow-up questions if needed!

Understanding the Blades

Firstly, here's a quick breakdown on the types of swords and their impact on injuries

Longswords Longswords are double-edged, straight blades often used with two hands. They cause deep slashes capable of severing muscles and tendons, and thrusts that can puncture organs or arteries. Heavy blows can also break bones.

Rapiers Rapiers are thin, pointed blades designed for thrusting. They cause precise punctures targeting vital organs or arteries. Less effective for slashing but deadly in skilled hands.

Katanas Katanas are curved, single-edged blades optimized for slicing. Their shape allows for those gory slashes that can amputate limbs or expose bones. Thrusts can also be fatal.

Sabers A saber is a curved blade with one sharp edge, typically used on horseback. These blades are designed for slashing, often causing wide, shallow wounds.

Short Swords and Daggers Smaller blades that are used for close combat can sometimes fall under the sword umbrella based on their shape and length. A Jambiya for example is categorised as a 'short sword'. These work for deep puncture wounds in tight quarters. Can sever arteries or puncture the heart or lungs.

In short, the design influences the wounds. Remember: 

Straight blades are versatile, causing both slashes and thrusts.

Curved blades focus on slicing, leaving gaping wounds.

Thin blades like rapiers target precision strikes to critical areas.

Types of Sword Injuries

As mentioned above I'm trying to cut to the chase with this blog so for each injury type, I've covered what I think are the key points. These are the appearance, severity, blood loss caused by this type of wound, and pain levels. I think these four basically cover everything a writer needs to know when picking their poison. 

Slash Wounds

Appearance: Long, open cuts with jagged or clean edges depending on the blade.

Severity: Superficial slashes may damage only the skin and fat layers, but deeper cuts sever muscles, tendons, and even arteries.

Blood Loss: Significant, especially if major arteries like the femoral (thigh) or brachial (arm) are cut.

Pain: Immediate burning or stinging, with sharp increases if nerves are involved.

Thrust Wounds

Appearance: Small entry wounds but potentially deep and catastrophic internal damage.

Severity: Can puncture vital organs such as the heart, lungs, liver, or intestines.

Blood Loss: Often internal, leading to hidden dangers like haemorrhaging or collapsed lungs.

Pain: Stabbing pains that radiate outward, especially if organs are pierced.

Blunt Force Injuries

Appearance: Bruising, swelling, or fractures from strikes with the flat side or hilt.

Severity: Can lead to broken bones, ruptured vessels, or concussions.

Blood Loss: Minimal unless skin is broken.

Pain: Deep aches or sharp, localized pain from fractures.

Assessing the Severity of Wounds

When assessing the severity of a wound, there are a few important things to keep in mind. To make it easier, I've put together a quick checklist to help you out.

Location: Wounds to the head, neck, or chest are often life-threatening. Injuries to limbs are less fatal but can lead to significant blood loss.

Depth: Shallow cuts are often cosmetic but painful. Deep wounds risk severing arteries, damaging organs, or causing fractures.

Angle: Oblique cuts may glance off bones or armor. Direct thrusts to unprotected areas are far more dangerous.

What Happens When Each Area is Wounded

It's kind of a given that each area of the body is different and would thus cause different reactions when pierced. While many writers stick to the 'blood dripping from the mouth, hand desperately clutching the wound' look, I think it's a good idea to consider the medicinal side of your injuries.

Are there arteries in this area? Vital organs? Muscle and tissue? Here's a quick breakdown of those questions (no I haven’t mentioned every area or organ of the body):  

Limbs

Forearms and Upper Arms: Severing the brachial artery results in rapid blood loss. Cuts to tendons disable grip strength or arm movement.

Thighs: The femoral artery is a critical target. Damage here leads to exsanguination within minutes if untreated.

Calves and Feet: While less life-threatening, injuries here severely limit mobility and can cause nerve damage leading to paralysis.

Abdomen

Liver: Heavy bleeding due to its vascularity. Potentially fatal without intervention.

Stomach: Leakage of acidic contents causes severe internal infections.

Intestines: Punctures lead to sepsis from spilled waste material.

Kidneys: Severe back pain and rapid blood loss from renal artery damage.

Chest

Lungs: Punctures cause pneumothorax (collapsed lung), leading to difficulty breathing and chest pain.

Heart: Even small cuts are often fatal due to rapid blood loss and cardiac tamponade (fluid pressure around the heart).

Ribs: Fractures can puncture lungs or other organs.

Neck

Jugular Vein or Carotid Artery: Severing either leads to death in under two minutes from blood loss.

Trachea: Obstruction causes immediate respiratory distress.

Spinal Cord: Severance leads to paralysis or death.

Back

Spinal Cord: Injuries vary from numbness to total paralysis depending on the location.

Kidneys: Vulnerable to back stabs; severe bleeding and pain radiating to the abdomen.

Face/Head

Cheeks: Slashes leave disfiguring scars but are rarely fatal.

Eyes: Punctures result in blindness and intense pain.

Skull: Blunt force may cause concussions or fractures; penetrating wounds can be fatal if they reach the brain.

Treating Sword Fight Injuries

In the chaos of a sword fight, providing immediate care can mean the difference between life and death. The first priority is to stop the bleeding. For deep cuts or arterial wounds, use a clean cloth or pressure bandage to compress the injury. If the bleeding doesn’t subside, especially in limb injuries, apply a tourniquet above the wound, ensuring it’s tight enough to restrict blood flow without causing further damage. 

Once bleeding is controlled, stabilize the victim. Immobilize fractures with makeshift splints, and in cases of suspected spinal injuries, avoid moving the victim unnecessarily to prevent exacerbating the damage. Finally, cleaning the wound is critical to minimize infection risks. Remove debris carefully and irrigate the wound with clean water if possible. Though battlefield medicine is rudimentary, these steps provide a fighting chance for survival.

Also, one thing people forget to go over is temperature. Keeping the victim warm is essential, as blood loss can lead to hypovolemic shock, which compromises the body’s ability to circulate oxygen. 

Historical vs. Modern Treatment

The approach to sword fight injuries varies dramatically between historical and modern contexts. While I can’t completely break down the differences, here’s (what I hope) is a quick overview that will aid in your research. 

Historically, treating wounds was rudimentary at best. Herbal poultices were applied to reduce inflammation, and cauterization—burning the wound to seal it—was a common but agonizing method to prevent bleeding and infection. Stitching techniques were crude, and the lack of sterilization meant infections like sepsis or gangrene were often fatal. 

Fret not, modern medicine offers a more hopeful prognosis. Sterile wound care, antibiotics, and surgical interventions allow for precise repairs to severed arteries, muscles, or organs. Advanced imaging technology can assess internal injuries, while blood transfusions and IV fluids combat shock effectively. 

This just underscores how important it is for writers to consider what timeline their story is set in. Sorry but your medieval prince won’t just have a full recovery after suffering a brutal gash, especially not if his only source of medicine was love interest’s xyz solution. Infections are a very real issue. In fact, most deaths during that time were due to infection. Do your research.

The Psychological Aftermath

The aftermath of surviving a sword fight extends far beyond physical wounds, leaving lasting emotional and psychological scars. Many survivors experience trauma or PTSD, manifesting as flashbacks to the battle, vivid nightmares, or an overwhelming sense of anxiety, especially in situations that trigger memories of the fight. I would absolutely love to see people incorporate this in their writing! If your modern OCs can get flashbacks and nightmares after a single gun altercation what makes you think the medieval ones won’t experience something similar? 

Survivor’s guilt is another common burden, particularly if the character witnessed comrades die or was forced to make life-and-death decisions during combat. These emotional struggles can deeply shape their personality, making them more cautious, resentful, or even vengeful. Villain arc here we come! 

One thing to remember; physical limitations compound the psychological toll. Permanent injuries like chronic pain, reduced mobility, or disfigurement can remind a character daily of their ordeal, influencing how they interact with others and navigate the world.

As a writer it’s important to take recovery into account. Exploring these aspects adds depth to the character’s recovery arc, making their journey more relatable and human. 

Remember folks; a sword fight isn’t just a moment of action—it’s a fight as brutal and dangerous as any knife or gun altercation you can think of (if not worse). 

Crafting the Fight Scene

To end this blog, here are my (and various Google articles’) two cents on what you should be focusing on/keeping in mind during a swordfight. 

Writing a compelling sword fight requires balancing technical accuracy with emotional resonance. Pacing is key: alternate between rapid exchanges of blows and brief pauses to allow tension to build. These pauses provide an opportunity to describe a character’s thoughts, pain, or strategic planning. 

Sensory details bring the scene to life—capture the sharp clash of steel, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the searing pain of a wound, and the slickness of a sweat-soaked grip on a sword hilt.

Focus on the characters themselves to make the scene more engaging. Highlight their emotions, such as fear, determination, or desperation, alongside the physical toll of the fight. Show how fatigue sets in, how their breathing becomes labored, and how every swing of the blade drains their strength. 

Injuries should be portrayed realistically; instead of dismissing wounds as minor setbacks, use them to heighten tension. A cut to the leg might slow a character’s movements, while a stab to the shoulder could make wielding their weapon excruciating. 

Balancing these elements ensures your fight scenes are not only thrilling but also grounded in a visceral reality.

Resources for Writers

Books:

"The Book of the Sword" by Richard Francis Burton

"Medieval Swordsmanship" by John Clements

Videos:

YouTube channels like "Skallagrim" and "Scholagladiatoria" for sword reviews and techniques.They’re very helpful for all sorts of weapons actually so OP I think you should consider stalking their channels you’d find a TON of info (I get most of mine from them lol). 

Articles:

I don’t have any precise ones but to boost your research consider medical journals on trauma and wound care. Oh and historical accounts of duels and battles.

[mactiir]

sword misconceptions pt 1: longsword

Post series: shortsword | rapier | buckler | dagger | spear

so as I'm getting back into fantasy lit as a historical fencer, there are a lot of things I am noticing cropping up in swordfights that are inaccurate or flat out wrong. So i wanted to write a post for my fellow writers putting down a few things I've learned in 2.5 years of swinging the actual weapons around!

Disclaimer: i am not an expert. Additionally, many of the historical terms for weapons were not standardized (there was no "one" longsword/rapier/shortsword etc when we're talking about a weapon that existed for hundreds of years across an entire continent) so what I'm discussing under the cut is specific to the late medieval/early Renaissance European two-handed weapon with a simple hilt/crossguard and with a blade length around 3 feet -- what D&D calls the longsword, or in older editions the bastard sword (although if we want to get picky about it, bastard swords should have shorter handles than longswords -- but I wrote this post as a writing reference so names are beside the point. you can call the swords whatever you want in your story, anyway).

Misconception 1: longswords are heavy.

Older editions of D&D had these weapons at 6 pounds, which is about 2x too heavy. 5e has them at 3 pounds, which is exactly right. Your average longsword is between 2 and 4 pounds, and a well-made one will be balanced such that you barely feel it. Pound for pound, they are heavier than almost all one handed weapons (except some rapiers but we'll talk about that later), but between their balance and the fact you wield them in both hands, their weight is likely not going to be a prohibiting factor for most characters. Everyone who can pick up a wooden baseball bat can pick a longsword up and swing it. A weak or out of shape character will struggle for wielding it for lengths of time, though.

Misconception 2: longswords are slow.

You're 1) thinking of a zweihander and 2)zweihanders aren't slow, either, but we'll get to that later. Longswords, wielded properly in both hands, are lightning fast, with a skilled fencer that's opened their opponent's defense often able to land 2-4 hits before a director even registers the first hit and calls "halt". And there are two components to speed: actual velocity, and distance. Longswords are -- well, long. Even if you can't swing it as fast as a little knife, the fact that it's three feet long means you're closing to target much faster compared with a shorter weapon, because you don't have to do as much footwork to get into, or out of, striking range.

Misconception 3: you can wield a longsword in one or both hands.

I mean, you could. But a one-handed wield robs a longsword of a lot of its dexterity, grace, precision, and yes -- power. You want two hands on this thing. Your dominant hand goes closer to the crossguard and it's what generates your power and edge alignment. Your offhand on or near the pommel is where your dexterity and fine steering is. Switching or removing either of these hands feels weird and you are also way more likely to get disarmed just by trying to parry with one hand.

Misconception 4: swordfights are about dodging.

You have two realistic options when someone is swinging a longsword at you: parry or step out of range. You do not duck. You do not jump. You do not sway, roll, or do backbends. All of these things will 1) rob you of necessary structure to riposte, 2) leave you wide open for a renewed attack or remise, and 3) leave your most important tool for not getting hit -- your SWORD -- too far off target to help you. Yes, all of these things look super cool and may fit depending on your style and setting. But if you're going for realism, YOU PARRY.

Misconception 5: you can be fast or strong but not both.

Ok, this is more a pet peeve about martial arts in general but: you cannot be fast without a certain base amount of muscle. You CANNOT. Small people with no muscle are slow. They have to take huge, looping cuts to compensate for their lack of muscle and leave huge openings while they do it. Small people who do well at the sport are often very quick because they have to train the heck out of footwork to outwork bigger opponents, but that only comes with TRAINING. It's not a "small people are automatically dex builds" thing. And while big muscly guys are often slower, they also 1) have less distance to move to close to target, which makes them "faster" even if they are moving a tad slower and 2) they're also often fast as balls, so you can judge virtually nothing about an opponent based on their body type except for their reach. A good, big longsword fencer will often have really fast handwork because most don't do well in longsword fencing without speed.

Let me know if there are any lingering questions I missed! I may think of more later, but I hope this was helpful for now :)

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 2: Swan Lake (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

The next night, Lucanis finds himself arranging a few plates on the dining table ahead of Rook’s planned arrival. He arranges, then rearranges, doubts what he made, or if it was weird thing to do in general. But he remembers his conversation with Neve from earlier in the day, and that seems to hold his nerves steady for the time being.

He had walked into her office-room with a question. And Neve, unsurprisingly, knew exactly what that question was before he even got to her front door. She was a damn good detective, he had to give her that.

“Planning something special for Rook?” she asked coyly.

“You know her better than I do” He admitted, scratching the side of his beard. “She’s … helping me. I want to do something nice for her”

“Is that all?” Neve quirked a brow and leaned back in her chair. An errant wisp floated by her hair, which she quickly swatted away gently.

Lucanis frowned. “Yes. That is all. Just tell me what I should make for her”

Neve crossed her arms, “Information rarely comes free in Minrathous”

“We’re not in Minrathous” he pointed out.

“You can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl” she said wistfully, closing her eyes and grinning.

Lucanis groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fine, what do you want”

“Fried fish for dinner tomorrow night”

“I was going to make Paella tomorrow night”

“Well, now you’re making fried fish” Neve quipped.

“Mierda, alright. But I’m also making vegetables” He pointed at her, “You people need to get better eating habits”

Neve grinned and steepled her fingers together, then leaned forward on her desk. “Make the churros again. You might not have noticed her sneaking an extra one or… five, during dinner, but I certainly did. She wouldn’t stop talking about them the day after you made them”

“Churros” He repeated thoughtfully, as he rubbed his beard. He could do that. He should still have some ingredients left over from the first time he made them last week.

Rook likes sweet things. Smells like sweet things. Spite echoed in his head. He ignored that.

“Thank you, Neve” He gave her a curt nod before he turned to leave. “There will be fresh coffee in the dining hall in a few minutes if you’ve a mind for a real cup of it.” He called over his shoulder.

Lucanis left to her chuckling behind him and closed the door to her office. He had spent the rest of the day gathering supplies, and later in the evening when he was certain the team was asleep, he began preparing. The routine of baking and cooking was as calming as sharpening his longsword on a whetstone. Slow, methodical, rhythmic. But unlike sharpening his swords and knives, the end product was something that could bring joy, rather than misery and death. He tries to hang on to that.

When he finishes the churros, he decides that’s not enough. He makes a chocolate sauce to go with the churros. But maybe she prefers caramel? He should have asked Neve. So, he makes a caramel sauce as well. Then, he wants to see if she’ll like cioccolata calda and starts preparing that. It’s fairly late in the evening when he finishes the croissants he wasn’t planning on baking.

No sign of Rook yet.

He’s not sure when he started pacing with his second cup of coffee in hand.

She had accompanied Bellara to Arlathan – something about Veil Jumpers going missing deep in the forest. He shouldn’t worry. He’s seen Rook fight, she’s more than capable. But she does have a certain recklessness to her way of fighting. No - he doesn’t need to worry. He isn’t worrying.

He continues pacing. Then, he’s once again finding flaws with his arrangement of the desserts on the table. Would she find this strange? Too much? Off-putting, and not in a charming way but an unsettling way? Was there even a way to be charmingly off-putting?

He's pacing again.

“Am I interrupting something?”

He stops in his tracks.

Her voice has caught him off guard two nights in a row. That is a problem.

“Rook” He says stupidly.

“Hi” She waves meekly, and limps into the dining hall with a groan. She’s dragging her left foot on the ground. “Sorry I’m late – ran into trouble in Arlathan.”

He takes a few tentative steps closer. He wants to extend his hand, but some unknown force keeps it to his side, his entire body wound tighter than Harding’s bowstring.

If his body won’t move, his mouth will have to pay the balance.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

Rook winces and draws closer to the large wooden table.

“Rage demon” she answers, pulling out a chair by the fireplace “And I’m happy to report it lived up to its name! It wasn’t very happy to see us”

He pulls out a chair beside her. She turns to him and laughs bitterly, “Have you ever been burned and stabbed on a job? Because I found out what that feels like today, and it’s kind of awful. Thankfully Bellara was able to patch me up”

Lucanis looks down at her left leg. Whatever injury she sustained is covered by her pants, but he can surmise from the way she’s shifting nearly all her weight onto the other leg it must have been bad.

“You leave your left flank wide open when you fight” he says, absent-mindedly. And immediately wishes he hadn’t.

“What?”

Mierda.

“You have a habit of leaving your left flank open.” He says quickly, then looks into the fire. Anywhere but her confused face. “Something I’ve noticed on the field.”

He feels her staring. He’s said something he shouldn’t have said. He doesn’t know how to right it other than by offering her food as a distraction. Lucanis turns to his handiwork and reaches for the bowl of churros, all but thrusting it in front of her.

“Churro?” He asks hopefully.

If Rook is taken aback by the odd exchange, she has the manners not to say anything. She blinks twice and looks down at the dessert.

“You made this for me?” She tilts her head.

Lucanis rubs the back of his neck.

“I … yes” He sets the bowl back on the table after she gingerly takes one in her hand. He wonders if they’re as soft to touch as they appear. “I thought dessert might pair well with your stories”

Rook chuckles, and leans in closer “It’s a good thought”

Smells like Blood and Ashes and Brimstone, Spite’s anger reverberates through his chest. She’s supposed to smell like sweet things.

For once he’s grateful for the demon’s interjection as it keeps him from staring at her while she eats the churro. And licks the cinnamon sugar from her lips. He shouldn’t be paying attention to this.

“Mmm” she sighs, an expression of serene delight passing over her features. His chest tightens.

Rook grins, oblivious to the effect she has on him, “These are dangerous you know- you can’t keep making them for me or it’ll be all I’ll eat”

Lucanis sighs and pushes the chocolate and caramel sauces towards her. “You and Neve are peas in a pod evidently.”

Rook squeals in delight and wastes no time dipping the dessert into the chocolate sauce.

She prefers chocolate.

“So” He starts, awkwardly shifting in his seat, “What tale will you tell tonight?”

He pretends not to notice her wiping a smear of chocolate sauce from the corner of her lip with her finger.

“Oh, right” She reaches into her side pocket and pulls out the small journal. Rook flips through its pages, humming thoughtfully. She lands on a page near the end of the journal before stopping.

“This might be a good one.” Rook snaps the journal shut and places on the table beside her. “Have you ever heard the tale of Swan Lake?”

Even if he had, he would say no. If she wants to tell him a story, he won’t sway her.

“The original story is from Nevarra, but it was adapted into an Orlesian ballet some time ago” Rook continues, not giving him a chance to answer before barreling ahead with her explanation. “Apparently it was one of Emperor Judicael’s favourites. He liked it so much he had the ballet house play it nearly every night, and producers of the other ballet’s threatened to quit en masse. It was so bad, the play was actually banned in Orlais for about fifty years because of that whole debacle. Caused quite the scandal”

“Must be a good ballet” He remarks, before getting up from his seat. “Wait here for a moment, Rook”

Rook nods and reaches for another churro, “Sure”.

Lucanis returns with two steaming cups and passes one to Rook. She takes it gratefully and lifts the warm beverage to her nose. “Mmm! What is this? Smell’s divine”

“Cioccolata Calda. An Antivan specialty”

“Is it coffee?”

“Try it”

Rook does as she’s told and takes a curious sip. Her eyes widen and her lips split into a large smile. “That is amazing. I think I have a new favourite drink”

“They make it better at Café Pietra, but this will do for tonight” Lucanis sits back down and takes a sip of his own cup. It’s a little too sweet for him, but the look on her face assures him it was a good call. “If we find ourselves in Treviso again, we can –“

“I like the way you make things” Rook says quietly, gripping her cup a bit tighter. She’s looking down at her cup, and it’s probably for the better. He is certain the tips of his ears are a furious shade of red.

“Thank you” He whispers, after a few moments of quiet pass between the two. “That’s… very kind of you to say”

“You’re welcome” She replies, crossing her legs in her seat like she did yesterday. She looks like she wants to say something else, but a quick shake of her head and a clap of her hands brings her focus back to the reason she came here.

“Okay, umm, let’s see here” Rook’s gentle features twist in concentration.

Her hands begin glowing with that familiar blue light, and as she raises her arms and gives a flourish with her left hand.

A castle once again fills the empty space between their chairs. This one has a central dome surrounded by four gilded towers with pointed roofs – different in style and architecture from the one yesterday, but no less impressive.

“Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a handsome and gentle prince by the name of Siegfried”

The castle ripples out of existence, and in its place, is the form of a young man with short, cropped hair, a broad chest, and a large bow on his back.

“Prince Siegfried was one of the most accomplished hunters in the kingdom. It was said he could hit any mark, no matter the distance. His aim would always be true. Some versions of the story mention his crossbow being enchanted, others chalk it up to pure skill. Either way, he’s a good shot” Rook grins and makes the figure of the Prince aim an arrow right at Lucanis’ chest with a crook of her finger.

Lucanis raises an eyebrow and holds his hands up in mock defense, “Tell the Prince he should stick to animals – I might be above his paygrade”

Rook bursts out into laughter and as her concentration breaks for a moment, the image of the Prince flickers in and out of existence.

“Sorry, carry on.” Lucanis smiles as she rights herself in her seat and places her hands back into position.

“Yes – where was I?” Rook flicks her wrist, and the Prince is back in view. This time, he’s joined by another figure. A tall woman, dressed in a long, flowing dress with an ornate crown on her head, comes to stand next to him.

“His mother, the Dowager Queen, comes to inform him of an upcoming ball that will be held at the royal palace. ‘At this ball, my son, you will choose a royal bride. For I am late in my years and wish to see grandchildren in these palace halls before I depart’” As before, the Queen’s mouth moves in rhythm with Rook’s words – like magical ventriloquism.

Rook waves her hand and the Queen disappears. The form of the prince cradles his head in his hands.

“The Prince is despondent at this news. He wanted to marry for love, not political power. Surely, he has a right to his own heart, at least?” The Prince sinks to his knees and stays like that for a few moments.

Another flourish from Rook, and a new figure appears. Shorter, portlier than the Prince, but with kinder features.

“His friend Benno sees how upset he is, and wonders how he can help cheer up the Prince”

Both figures disappear as Rook pauses to take a sip of her hot chocolate. He tries to ignore Spite’s impatient rippling at the edges of his consciousness.

Siegfried and Benno return soon thereafter.

“Benno looks out the window, and happens to see a flock of swans flying outside”

Rook waves the swans into existence, and they flit around Siegfried and Benno in circles before disappearing. The figure of Benno tugs on the prince’s shoulder sleeve.

“‘Your highness, a hunt!’ he exclaims, pointing out the window” The figure of the prince straightens, his interest piqued by the animals.

“Benno gathers a few other men from the castle, and along with the prince, they all ride out to the forest to hunt the swans”

The scene changes to Benno, Siegfried, and three other men riding horseback through a dense forest canopy. He will always be in awe of the imagery she’s able to bring to life with her magic. Never in a hundred years would he have thought of using magic in this way. Then again, Rook is anything but a typical mage, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

“At some point, Prince Siegfried becomes separated from the group”

One by one, Benno and the other men disappear, until only the prince remains, trotting horseback through the air on the spot.

“He comes to the lakeside clearing and finds the flock of swans.” The swans reappear, now floating on the edge of an invisible lake. The figure of the Prince draws his crossbow and pulls an arrow from the quiver. As he nocks the arrow, one of the swans transforms into a beautiful young woman. She has a long plait of hair spilling over her left shoulder. She’s wearing what Lucanis assumes, from its puffy construction, a ballet dress. The skirts are feathered, and feathers even fall from the dress, winking out of existence moments later.

He leans in closer to observe the finer details.

“You have quite the imagination, Rook” Lucanis smiles at her.

She returns it in kind and brushes a stray curl behind her ear. She looks shy, almost, and like she’s avoiding looking at him. “Some say over-active”

“I think it’s just right” He pulls back and takes a sip of his own hot chocolate.

“Thanks…” She whispers, drawing her legs closer together. When she sees her figures flickering again, Rook’s brows bunch together and the blue light in her hands grows brighter.

“The … ah … the Prince was so transfixed by her beauty and grace, he had to know more about her”

The figure of the prince begins moving closer to the woman, but the woman begins to back away.

“But she was frightened, for she did not know this man, and feared the crossbow in his hands”

“‘Wait!’ The prince calls just before she leaves his sight” The prince holds out his hand and tosses his crossbow to the ground. Well, the air. “‘Please stay, I’ve not a mind to hurt you. Won’t you tell me who you are?’”

The young woman stops and rests her hand on her chest.

“‘My name is Odette, and I cannot leave this place’”

“Why?” Lucanis is leaning forward, practically on the edge of his seat.

Rook leans in closer. Too close. Close enough to reach out and touch. Her large, doe-like green eyes, framed under long and wispy eyelashes, feel like they’re burning themselves into his soul.

Chocolate and cinnamon. Spite shrieks gleefully, and he wants to draw back. His heart throbs loudly in his ears, almost drowning out the demon. Almost.

“The prince had the same question” She winks and returns to her previous spot before he has the chance to pull away first.

“Odette explains she’s been placed under a curse by a powerful, but wicked mage. His name was Von Rothbart, and he was obsessed with Odette.”  

The prince disappears and is replaced by a taller man with hair tied behind his back and sharp, hawk-like features. He was dressed in a finely tailored doublet, with a side-cape hanging by a large broach affixed to the right shoulder. A faint red light shines from the broach.

“He kidnapped her from her home and used her blood to bind her soul to the gem in his broach. ‘Marry me’, he asks her every night. Every night she refuses. Every morning thereafter, she turns into a swan. And every night, she is called back to Swan Lake and turns back into a human. Such had been her fate for the last five years. It’s a powerful spell, born of ancient magic – but not an invulnerable one.”

Rook arced her hand over Odette, who’s form morphed from human to swan to human again with every back-and-forth motion of her palm.

He doesn’t have the words, none that will meaningfully add to the conversation at least, to describe how he feels about the way she uses her magic. Amazing, incredible, inventive all seem inadequate.

“There was one way to break Rothbart’s spell. A man would need to profess his love for her and remain faithful to that vow forevermore”

The figure of the prince kneels down on one knee, evidently ready to profess that love immediately.

Lucanis is resting his elbow on his knee, and his chin rests in his hand. His cup of hot chocolate rests forgotten by his side, as do the churros and croissants. He is certain she doesn’t realize how captivating she – her stories, are.

But they are interrupted by Rothbart, suddenly appearing beside Odette. He grabs her roughly by the arm and holds her beside him.

The prince stands with righteous anger. He has an arrow pointed at the figure of Rothbart.

“‘I shall slay this wicked mage, and free you from his grasp’” Siegfried declared”.

As the prince was about to loose the arrow, Lucanis is surprised to see Odette step in front of Rothbart, her arms spread wide in defense. The prince lowers his bow hesitantly.

A low growl escapes his throat, his eyes flash an angry violet “Why would she do that?” Lucanis’ voice is drowned by the deep and unnatural timbres of the demon, echoing together in a discordant symphony.

“Spite” Rook says calmly, like one would address a misbehaving child. “May I have Lucanis back so we can finish the story? You’ll find out why in a moment”

Lucanis’ face contorts with frustration. His violet eyes burn bright with anger, “Want. To know”

“You will, soon. Now bring Lucanis back”

Lucanis – well, Spite, growls again. When the demon refuses to relent, Rook hesitantly touches his forearm and frowns. “Please?”

The violet in his eyes dims, and Lucanis shakes his head. It was rare for Spite to surge to the forefront so quickly.

He couldn’t understand why the princess would protect someone who hurt her.

Lucanis takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly.

“Are you alright?” Rook asks quietly. The figures are long gone now, dissipated by the distraction that was Spite.

He realizes she’s still touching his forearm. Warm, and calming. Gentle. They both look down and she quickly pulls away. He feels the withdrawal of her warmth like gust of cold settling on his skin.

“Yes, I’m fine – don’t worry” He gestures to her, “Please, continue with your story”

Rook still looks hesitant, like she doesn’t quite believe him. He wouldn’t either, he supposed. He needs her to continue the story. Needs to distract himself from the feeling of her soft fingers lingering on his skin, like a brand.

She relents and her hands glow blue again.

The three figures of Siegfried, Odette, and Rothbart return.

“Odette explains that her life is tied to Von Rothbart. If he dies, then the spell imprisoning her can never be broken”

The figure of Rothbart retreats into a deeper part of the forest she’s conjured.

Odette and Siegfried share an embrace.

“’Come to the royal ball in three days’ time. There, I will profess my love to you in front of the entire court’ Says the Prince, resolved to defy his mother and marry her instead of a princess.”

The figure of Odette nods and disappears soon after.

“What they don’t know is that Rothbart heard the entire exchange, and he had a plan to make sure Odette could never escape him” Rook frowned.

The prince disappears next, and they are back with Rothbart and another young woman. This one slender and petite, with the same sharp features as the man next to her.

“Rothbart had a plan. He would use magic to disguise himself” Rook waved a hand and Rothbart morphed into the dress and appearance of an unassuming peasant. “And his daughter, Odile” She waved her hand again, and the young woman became an identical copy of Odette – but her dress, was glowing with an ominous black light.

“There’s no way that’ll work” Lucanis throws his arms up and leans back in his chair. “He has to know that Rothbart won’t just let her waltz into the ball”

Rook merely shrugs, “You’ll have to wait and see”

Lucanis crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. “Continue”

Rook laughs, “Alright, alright”

Odile and Rothbart disappear. They are replaced by a grand ballroom floor, with guests dressed in all sorts of finery decorating the dance floor like little spinning jewels.

At the top of a grand staircase sees Benno, Siegfried, and the Queen gathered together.

“Siegfried anxiously awaits the arrival of Odette” Rook explains, before waving her hand and bringing to life the disguised figures of Rothbart and Odile-as-Odette.

“Overcome with joy when he sees her, he immediately asks her to dance”

The two come together, and the rest of the ballroom disappears. They twirl about the ballroom in an elegant pas-de-deux.

“At the end of the dance, Odile asks him one simple question”

The pair part, and the prince drops to one knee in front of her.

“’Do you love me, and only me?’”

Lucanis watches intently as the figure of the prince bows his head in front of the pretender.

Sadness washes over Rook’s face. “The Prince, none the wiser, proclaims his love to the entire court ‘Of course I love you’ – but it wasn’t enough. Rothbart, masquerading as the girl’s father, asks him to make a binding vow in front of the Queen. Siegfried, thinking nothing of it, does so immediately”

Rook waves her hand and the figures of Rothbart and Odile return to their original forms. Suddenly, the real Odette, in her pure white dress, is inside the ballroom. She crumples to the floor as she witnesses the Prince profess his love for Odile.

“Odette, heartbroken, flees the ball and returns to the lakeside clearing. The prince follows after her, distraught at what he’s done.”

The two figures stand in front of each other on the lake.

“Odette eventually forgives him, realizing that he was under Rothbart’s spell just as much as she was. But the damage was done. His actions consigned her to live as a swan forevermore”

Lucanis frowned, unable to see a path to a happy ending. But Rook was full of surprises, maybe her stories were as well.

“Odette and the Prince resolved to leave this world together, rather than be bound by Rothbart’s magic”

The figures of Siegfried and Odette walk towards the lake, hand in hand. They slowly sink together under the willowy depths.

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

A moment later, they both disappear under the water.

The figure of Rothbart returns into view. The red light of the broach on his shoulder flickers in and out, before dying out completely. Rothbart collapses to the ground and remains still.

“It’s true that Odette’s life was bound to Rothbart’s – but the magic worked both ways. Rothbart’s life was also tied to hers. And when she left this world of her own will, he left it against his”

A moment later, Rothbart disappears and in his place are two ghostly swans, flying in circles together.

“The spirits of Siegfried and Odette are reunited in the Fade, until they decide to pass on together”

With a final flick of her wrist, the birds disappear, and there is nothing but empty space between him and Rook again.

“The End”

Lucanis exhaled.

“Not the most cheerful ending” He remarks, taking another sip of hot chocolate.

“What was it you said about that one brew at Café Pietra? Bitter and sweet - like a kiss goodbye?” Rook nods and absent-mindedly chews on another churro. “That’s how I think about this ending. Not every story has an overtly happy one”

He’s dumbfounded she even remembers that throwaway comment.

“I still don’t understand how the prince doesn’t question Odette appearing at the ball. With a father she hasn’t seen in five years, supposedly” He wants to change the subject. Away from kisses, goodbye or otherwise.

Rook shrugs, “That’s a question for the author- though he’s likely about four hundred year’s dead.” A light twinkles in her eyes, “Maybe we can find him here, in the Fade, and ask his spirit!”

Lucanis laughs, “Now there’s an idea”

“I’m full of them. Some better than others” Rook grins sheepishly. She begins massaging the side of her left leg.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, following her gaze down.

“Nothing – it’s just starting to ache a bit” Rook winces. “That demon got me good”

“Let me see” Lucanis drops to his knee in front of her. “If that’s alright”

Rook removes her hand and drops her gaze to look at him.

“Oh – it’s fine, Lucanis, really. I’ll bug Bellara about it in the morn- “

“It’s better if you bug me about it now. It might get worse over the course of the night”

He gestures to her pant leg, “May I?” He asks again.

Rook bites her lip, before relenting. “Sure… go ahead” she answers softly and lifts her leg so he can support it in his right hand.

He clicks his tongue when he sees the damage under her dressing. The lateral portion of her lower leg is covered with an irritated and inflamed superficial burn. Three parallel gash marks, likely closed thanks to Bellara’s healing magic, create tracts of bright crimson skin. She hisses when he gently presses on the skin of her leg.

“I have something for this. Wait here” He carefully lowers her leg and returns a moment later with a small jar from the pantry.

“Embrium and Elfroot paste, good for burns and skin irritation. It’ll also prevent infection. Apply it twice a day” He sets the jar on the table beside her. “Let me know if that gets worse”

Rook grins, “I didn’t know I was getting a doctor and an assassin in my contract”

Lucanis chuckles, “Any Crow worth their salt knows how to close a wound just as well as they can open one. Consider it on the house”

“Is the all the cooking on the house too?” Rook slowly stands up, and they’re only a few inches away from each other now.

Lucanis nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I think it has to be, with the way you people eat”

“Hey! I’m not that bad” She places her hands on her hips and frowns. “I eat vegetables … sometimes”

“I’ve seen you pick out the eggplant in every dish”

“Okay, I don’t like one vegetable”

She shakes her head and gathers a few churros and croissants onto a plate. Rook sticks a croissant in her mouth, and speaks around it, “Just for that, I’m eating nothing but these for the next two days”

“You’re going to miss Paella night” He deadpans.

Rook swallows and places another croissant defiantly on her plate.

“Three nights”

Lucanis sighs. At least she seems to like the food.

Rook’s laughter fills the dining hall. “On that note – I should get some sleep. I hope Spite doesn’t give you too much trouble for the rest of the night”

“He won’t” Lucanis doesn’t know that but says it to give her some reassurance. “Good night, Rook”

“Madeleina”

“What?”

“My name … it’s Madeleina. You can call me that if you want” She smiles widely. “Rook is fine too, though”

“Madeleina” He repeated softly. He smiled, and for the first time all night, he feels like he can keep her gaze. Their eyes meet, and it feels like an entirely new conversation is happening between them. “It suits you”

Rook toys with an errant curl and smiles. “Thank you”

“I – umm… I should get going. Goodnight, Lucanis” she adds quickly.

She quickly rights herself and for good measure, steals one more churro from the bowl. Madeleina then turns and begins hobbling out of the dining hall, leaving Lucanis and Spite to mull the feeling of her new name over in his mind.

He would have to thank Neve for her advice.

[distardre]

julance week 1: broadsword

feel free to read whoever's interested is a small info dump about swords bc i went down a rabbit hole of sword classification when i looked up a broadsword LOL

disclaimer that if you are a sword expert and i got anything wrong i am sorry, i am a measly english major who dropped out of his history course and got all this information off of comparing appropriately 20 quora posts and two random sword classification websites

(also i may be an english major but english is not my first language so sorry if the x edged blade, y hilted sword is not the way it is grammatically correct)

okay so basically nowadays the most mainstream sword among fantasy media and D&D and stuff is the broadsword HOWEVER that is not actually what the broadsword is; what is used in games, tv, etc is most commonly the arming sword (a double edged blade, cross hilted sword, intended for single hand use)

the broadsword is generally a double edged blade, basket hilted sword which's blade is wider than that of a rapier, it is intended for single hand use (hence the guarding of the hand at the hilt), and more or less is a double edged version of a backsword; it can also be referred to as a claymore (which however has also been used for the longsword in the past)

however, in the broader historical context (haha funny pun), a broadsword is literally that, a broad sword, or in other words a sword broader than a contemporary one at a given time

then we have the longsword, generally a double edged blade, cross hilted sword intended for two hand use, but can be wielded with one hand if the situation is fitted

however, we also can use the term longsword as its semantical meaning, a long sword or in other words, a sword longer than a contemporary one at a given time

then we have for example the great sword which is similar in shape to the longsword however really long, like up to the size of the person wielding it and the hilt has space for three hands and it's also fairly heavy; i saw one person refer to it as a sword shaped polearm which i found quite funny

uhhh yea okay i think thats all i have to say

i would just like to add the little detail of the fact that sword classifications are a modern thing, people back in the day would just call any sword a sword, they might use long sword and broad sword in their semantic sense but other than that they were just swords

it was with the rise of fantasy media and their focus on the middle ages that swords became misclassified too with the arming sword becoming so popular under the wrong name

moral of the story: sword classification is really confusing :)

here is the quora post i found most interesting, and pretty much all of its information checked out with others i read, if anyone wants a (admittedly way) more comprehensive explanation than mine!

[ezziefae]

Thoughts while reading The Prisoners Throne Excerpt

Here's a rushed annotation of some parts of the excerpt that really drew my attention. Jurdan fans be ready for many surprises.

"Imagine you have a weapon. They had been in Vivi’s second apartment, standing on a small metal balcony. Inside, Taryn and Vivi had been fussing over Leander, who was learning to crawl. The Ghost had asked about Oak’s training and been uninterested in the excuse that he was eleven, had to go to school, and couldn’t be swinging around a longsword in the common space of the lawn without neighbors getting worried."

(this is a flashback) Taryn’s child makes their first debut!! Taryn named the boy Leander. (I’m assuming its a boy name) Since the Ghost is in Vivi’s apartments could that be a hint that he’s romantically involved with Taryn? Or it could also be that he’s accompanied Taryn to protect her. It's super cool to see The Ghost and Oak training together.

"Oak had actually liked making his own sword. It was huge and black with a bright red hilt covered in demonish faces. It looked like the sword of someone in an anime he’d been watching, and he felt like a badass, holding it in his hands. The sight of Oak’s blade had made the Ghost smile, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he started moving through a series of exercises, urging Oak to follow. He told the prince should call him by his non‑spy name, Garrett, since they were friends."

Love that Holly is still referencing anime in the Elfhame series. Can we also talk about The Ghost’s character development? In TFOTA series he always kept to himself, and now he’s letting his closest friends call him by his real name.

"The prince has been imprisoned three weeks, according to the tallies he’s made in the dust beneath the lone bench. Long enough to dwell on every mistake he has made on his ill‑fated quest."

THREE WEEKS??? What the heck have Jude and Cardan been doing for three weeks??? I honestly expected for him to be rescued asap. If anything Jude and Cardan have been carefully planning to save oak and I guess that takes a lot of time. 

"His family must be in a panic right now. He trusts that Tiernan got Madoc to Elfhame safely, no matter what the redcap general wanted. But Jude would be furious with Tiernan for leaving Oak behind and even angrier with Madoc, if she guesses just how much of this is his fault."

I really want to see someone from Elfhame’s POV on Jude finding out on Oak being taken prisoner by Wren. I want to see a raging Jude. I’d be terrified to be in Tiernan’s place, since it was his job to protect Oak, and he failed that.

"Possibly Cardan would be relieved to be rid of Oak, but that wouldn’t stop Jude from making a plan to get him back. Jude has been ruthless on Oak’s behalf before, but this is the first time it’s scared him. Wren is dangerous. She is not someone to cross. Neither of them are."

OHH??? OHHH???? So many things are thrown at us here. Oak has a reason to believe that Cardan doesn’t like him??? To the point where Oak believes Cardan would even be RELIEVED to get rid of him? That was SUPER unexpected. Oak finally takes it in that neither Wren or Jude are people to cross. As much as I hate saying this, I want a Jude and Wren fight. That would be amazing. Not saying I want either of them to die, or get hurt, but that would be an intense scene. 

“I can do better,” he says. “And perhaps you might bring me a little gossip to cheer the chilly monotony of my days.” “You’re very silly, Your Highness,” she says after a moment, biting her bottom lip a little.

Oak is using his most dangerous power, seduction. Screaming. 

"He remembers Oriana’s warning to him when he was a child. A power like the one you have is dangerous, she said. You can know what other people most want to hear. Say those things, and they will not only want to listen to you. They will come to want you above all other things. The love that a gancanagh inspires—some may pine away for desire of it. Others will carve the gancanagh to pieces to be sure no one else has it."

I'm so glad holly is diving deep into this, We know that Locke also had this power, and how he was wielding it in TFOTA series. 

"That night, he wakes to the sight of a snake crawling down the wall, its black metal body jeweled and glittering. A forked emerald tongue tastes the air at regular intervals, like a metronome. It startles him badly enough for him to back up against the bars, the iron hot against his shoulders. He has seen creatures like it before, forged by the great smiths of Faerie. Valuable and dangerous. The paranoid thought comes to him that poison would be one straightforward way to solve the problem of his being held by an enemy of Elfhame. If he were dead, there’d be no reason to pay a ransom."

Oak sees this snake, and he immediately thinks it was sent from elfhame to kill him. Which is insane for him to believe that. 

"He doesn’t think his sister would allow it, but there are those who might risk going around her. Grima Mog, the new grand general, would know exactly where to find the prince, having served the Court of Teeth herself. Grima Mog might look forward to the war it would start. And, of course, she answered to Cardan as much as Jude."

"Not to mention there was always the possibility that Cardan convinced Jude that Oak was a danger to them both."

WHAT IS THIS DISAPPROVAL CARDAN HAS ON OAK?? The fact that Oak believes Cardan sent the snake to KILL HIMM, that's absolute madness. Like what the helll did this man do to Oak to make him feel this way?? Cryingggg. 

"It yawns widely enough for him to see silver fangs. The links of its body move, and a ring comes up from its throat, clanging to the floor. He leans down and lifts it. A gold ring with a deep blue stone, scuffed with wear. His ring, a present from his mother on his thirteenth birthday and left behind on his dresser because it no longer fit his finger. Proof that this creature was sent from Elfhame. Proof that he was supposed to trust it."

THIS IS THE RING THAT'S ON THE COVER!! Now we know what the ring means to Oak!!

“Prinss,” it says. “In three daysssss, you mussss be ready for resssss‑cue.” “Rescue?” Not here to poison him, then. The snake just stares with its cold, glittering eyes.

Okay so Jude sent a snake as a messenger to Oak, to let him know that they're coming to save him in three days. Cool….coool.

“Give me longer,” he says, no matter that it’s ridiculous to negotiate with a metal snake and even more ridiculous to negotiate for his own imprisonment, just in order to get a chance to speak with someone who refuses to see him. “Two more weeks perhaps. A month.”

THIS STUBBORN BOYYYYYY. Oh I know Jude would be absolutely furious for that.

"Oak slides the ring onto his pinkie finger, watching the snake as it coils its way up the wall. Halfway to the ceiling, he realizes that just because it wasn’t sent to poison him doesn’t mean it wasn’t sent to poison someone."

BIG MISTAKE MISTER SNAKE, BIGGGGG MISTAKEEEE.

He jumps onto the bench and grabs for it, catching the end of its tail. With a tug, it comes off the wall, falling against his body and coiling around his forearm. “Prinsssss,” it hisses. As it opens its mouth to speak, he notes the tiny holes in the points of its silvery fangs. When it does not strike, Oak pries the snake carefully from around his arm. Then, gripping the end of its tail firmly, he slams it down against the stone bench. Hears the cracking of its delicate mechanical parts. A gem flies off. So does a piece of metal. He whips it against the bench again.

Oak really said “oh hell no, you're not killing the women i love, nah uh,” and then proceeds to kill it in a very violent unsettling manner. Everyone was right when they said that Oak was like Madoc.

Straun spits on the floor in front of the prince’s cage. “No amount of gold or gems will save you. If my winter queen wants you to rot here, you’re going to rot.” “Your winter queen?” Oak repeats, unable to stop himself. The falcon looks a little shamefaced and turns to go back to his post. He’s young, Oak realizes. Older than Oak, but not by so very much. Younger than Hyacinthe. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Wren made such an impression on him. It shouldn’t bother Oak, shouldn’t fill him with a ferocious jealousy.

THE JEALOUSY HAS ME CACKLING. He was imprisoned, neglected in his cell by wren and yet he's jealous whenever someone else has lovey dovey eyes for wren. This man is so down for wren, and I don’t blame him. 

The Ghost taught him how to move stealthily, but he’s never been very good at it. He blames his hooves, heavy and hard. They clack at the worst possible times. But he makes an effort, sliding them against the floor to minimize noise.

Super cool to see how much The Ghost has impacted Oak's skills. The court of shadows in general has been a huge part in Oak’s training and it shows.

Oak moves fast, jerking Straun backward and covering his nose and mouth with the cloth. The guard struggles, but inhaling blusher mushroom slows his movements. Oak presses him to the floor until he’s unconscious.

THERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Welp, The excerpt ends in Oak escaping his cell…..after all thar chaos i've become too impatient. Just 3 Months until this book comes out !!! 

[ilynpilled]

These two characters are usually not in the same conversation because they are pretty isolated from each other’s stories, but I talked to one of my Dany mutuals about this and there is one thing in particular that I desperately want to see happen down the line. The duality of fire is such an integral part of this series: its function as a representation of passion, emancipation, and light along with destruction, corruption and death. I think it is supposed to speak to the multifaceted nature of power in general. Jaime’s relationship with fire (wildfire in specific, the most corrupted version of it) is pretty singular, especially among PoVs, because of his trauma. He associates it with Aerys, and then later Cersei. To him, it means destruction, corruption, and death. It represents the epitome of the abuse of power. So what I would find very poignant is the redefinition of it for him in particular during The Long Night.

I am very convinced Jaime will be present: George spending time on him training again as a competent fighter feels like something with a function beyond a LSH confrontation, the whole Oathkeeper and Widow’s Wail thing for JB, and trauma being packaged deliberately with TLN imagery: “In his dreams the dead came burning, gowned in swirling green flames. Jaime danced around them with a golden sword, but for every one he struck down two more arose to take his place.” Then the prophetic weirwood dream in general: “The shades dismounted from their ghostly horses. When they drew their longswords, it made not a sound. ” “They were armored all in snow, it seemed to him, and ribbons of mist swirled back from their shoulders. ”

His trauma is so focused on the fact that Dany’s father used something of such great power for something so deeply evil and destructive: “Jaime saw green flames reaching up into the sky higher than the tallest towers, as burning men screamed in the streets. I have dreamed this dream before.” For us to see the daughter of that man use it for the exact opposite, to repel death, through his eyes at some point would be one of the best ways to communicate and really drive home that duality that permeates this series regarding fire. It is not just fire that is being redefined, but power in general: who wields it and how.

Not to mention Jaime’s relationship with Rhaegar. Deep inside of Jaime’s mind Rhaegar was the “good king that never was”, something he still clings onto despite how much he represses the idealist romantic boy he used to be:

Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "When this battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but . . . well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return." Those were the last words Rhaegar Targaryen ever spoke to him.

On the morning after the battle, the crows had feasted on victors and vanquished alike, as once they had feasted on Rhaegar Targaryen after the Trident. How much can a crown be worth, when a crow can dine upon a king?

He rues Robert, and aspects of Barristan’s character’s commentary of who you represent and choose to serve are more subtly present in his story too.

Jaime snorted. "It's not Aerys I rue, it's Robert. 'I hear they've named you Kingslayer,' he said to me at his coronation feast. 'Just don't think to make it a habit.' And he laughed. Why is it that no one names Robert oathbreaker? He tore the realm apart, yet I am the one with shit for honor." "Robert did all he did for love." […] “Robert did all he did for pride, a cunt, and a pretty face." He made a fist . . . or would have, if he'd had a hand. Pain lanced up his arm, cruel as laughter. "He rode to save the realm," she insisted. To save the realm. "Did you know that my brother set the Blackwater Rush afire? Wildfire will burn on water. Aerys would have bathed in it if he'd dared. The Targaryens were all mad for fire."

And because he deserved to die. "I have made kings and unmade them. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor."

Dany is destined to succeed in the places that Rhaegar was doomed to fail, they have a plethora of parallels, so her reawakening that hope in Jaime in some form too would be something I would love to see actually.

Jaime is one of the characters that does have a very emphasized relationship with Rhaegar and his children. The guilt is very present, other than the reevaluation of his father, it might also be building to something concerning Rhaegar’s legacy: be it Jon, Dany, or even FAegon. He also has guilt regarding Dany’s mother:

And dragons, lurking down below. He remembered the sullen orange glow of the coals in the iron dragon's mouth. The brazier warmed a chamber at the bottom of a shaft where half a dozen tunnels met. On the floor he'd found a scuffed mosaic of the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen done in tiles of black and red. I know you, Kingslayer, the beast seemed to be saying. I have been here all the time, waiting for you to come to me. And it seemed to Jaime that he knew that voice, the iron tones that had once belonged to Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone.

"You're hurting me," they had heard Rhaella cry through the oaken door. "You're hurting me." In some queer way, that had been worse than Lord Chelsted's screaming. "We are sworn to protect her as well," Jaime had finally been driven to say. "We are," Darry allowed, "but not from him.”

Prince Rhaegar burned with a cold light, now white, now red, now dark. "I left my wife and children in your hands." "I never thought he'd hurt them." Jaime's sword was burning less brightly now. "I was with the king . . ."

For an instant, the deep red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar's children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks.

Dany is one of the most raw representations of hope in this story, so I would love for that to be a through line with multiple PoV characters she interacts with. She is the fire in the title. Not to mention that fire is already associated with life, light against darkness, very directly in Jaime’s prophetic weirwood dream:

Brienne’s sword took flame as well, burning silvery blue. The darkness retreated a little more.

The fires that ran along the blade were guttering out, and Jaime remembered what Cersei had said.

“the flames will burn so long as you live” “when they die so must you”.

[author-by-night]

So you want to write about swords…

I’ve been reading Tamora Pierce books with my boyfriend, and it’s got me in my trap card again about what different swords are.

Despite what some sword nerds will say there really is no absolute / concrete taxonomy of swords. Especially in history, different styles of swords were highly contextual to different cultures and didn’t often need to be described super specifically or told apart. But when we’re writing, especially writing western fantasy, and we have a wealth of cool swords that we want to describe to an audience so that they sound distinct… then we need to have a ballpark idea what we’re talking about at least with the more commonly appearing ones. So.

Arming Sword / Shortsword

What the overwhelming majority of white people think of when you say “sword.” Also, unfortunately, what most white people (and tabletop systems) think of when you say “longsword,” which is just not correct.

These are one handed double edged blades with a cruciform guard, what an archetypical knight wields alongside a shield. Good for thrusts and cuts, very versatile. A good length for them is one where you can swing the sword straight down without hitting the ground.

For more specific swords that basically also fit in this category see: gladius, spatha, viking swords.

Bastard Sword

What most people who don’t think an arming sword is a longsword think is a longsword… and they’re still mostly wrong. Some people will even use this to mean something bigger than a longsword… which is even less correct.

Think of these as the shortstop between arming swords and actual longswords. They’re often also called hand-and-a-half swords, the idea being that they’re meant to be a flexible weapon that can be wielded effectively in one hand or two. The funny thing is, while most people use these to signify that a character is big and strong and edgy they are specifically a smaller and lighter cousin of the longsword.

Longsword / Claymore

Yes these are basically the same thing. This is by far the most flexible category of sword, though, so nailing down what one is can honestly be kinda tricky.

The crux is this: longswords are generally meant to be two handed weapons. Don’t listen to D&D, it lies to you. If you want the best picture look up “German longsword” or “Italian longsword” or “HEMA.” You’ll get the idea of how they were fought with. Disambiguate them from arming swords in your mind. If it’s paired with a shield (or really anything) it’s an arming sword. Longswords are bigger than you think and every guard I’ve learned with them has needed both hands.

And seriously if you remember nothing else here remember that a Claymore is just a longsword in Scottish font.

Greatsword / Zweihander

Get the image of Cloud Strife out of your head. These were not, and I can’t stress this enough, meant for dueling. They’re what you come at a pike formation with. They were handled more like polearms than swords. Generally speaking they just exist much harder in fiction than they ever did in history… but also the concept is really cool so who cares. Beeg chonk sword. Yaaaaay.

For the wacky wavy version, see “flamberge.”

Broadsword

These. Are not. Longswords. Or bastard swords. Literally they’re “rapier but thicc.” They have a basket hilt, they’re made for fencing, they’re just chonkier than other fencing swords. This one is easily the one I see misused the most because people use it to mean “lorge sword” when in actuality they are relatively small. They’re just heavyweights for a fighting style which is still geared around being light, fast, and virtually unarmored.

Rapier

We all pretty much know this one. Skinny double edged blade with a fancy hilt meant to be wielded in one hand. Good for cutting, better for stabbing. While almost no one gets confused on what it is though, there’s one common misconception about what it does.

I’ll put it this way: if seeing someone with a longsword is like seeing someone with a hunting rifle slung over their shoulder, seeing someone with a rapier is like seeing someone with a beretta tucked into their waistband.

Too many stories have big chunky dumb dumbs seeing a rapier and going “haw haw look at that little toad sticker.” No. A rapier means you definitely have money and most likely a lot of training. There is no chance you are a working stiff like a soldier, a mercenary, or a guard. Rapiers are for killing people in the street or on a dueling ground. This is one of the most intimidating weapons someone can be carrying.

Saber / Cutlass

Basically everyone knows sabers: curved fencing swords, occasionally with a fancy hilt. Mostly these were for soldiers, especially cavalry where their cutting capability has a great advantage.

The cutlass is pretty much that moved down a tax bracket. They’re relatively cheap, single edged, useful for things like cutting rope and thus often seen on ships. Often these were self defense weapons.

Falchion

An elegant weapon for elves and stuff, right?

Well… no. Try a self defense weapon for the lower class, not unlike a cutlass. Single edged, not usually curved or especially interesting, really. Though fantasy authors love handing these to graceful fighters and the name sounds rad as heck they’re basically just a big cleaver. See also the messer and the seax / langseax.

Very, very often confused with the falcata or the falx to the point that all three sort of get mixed together when they’re actually very distinct. (Personally, I think the falcata is the coolest.)

For writing purposes… think hard about how you want to use these. Curved swords that don’t mean “pirates” or “elves” are often handed off to non-white people when in fact all of these three are weapons from western civ, ranging from Rome to middle Europe. They’re not fancy, they’re not that far off from a machete except that their primary use is as a weapon rather than a tool, and if anything they curve forward not back.

Scimitar

Did you mean: Shamshir?

A curved sword that odds are you are too white to be writing about. See also the kilij, the talwar, the saif.

If you don’t immediately know what these swords are then odds are the best thing they can do by popping up in your story is alert you that you need to do more research to write the culture you’re trying to write without being accidentally racist.

Katana

A single edged Japanese sword that was neither folded a thousand times nor was it made of special super awesome steel. The optional groove in the back is called a fuller and it has nothing to do with blood, it just makes the blade lighter and sturdier. It’s not inherently master crafted, just historically the forging technique was unique and interesting and involved differential hardening. It’s great at cutting. If one shows up in your story and you aren’t Asian, you’re probably a weeb. Take it from someone who was a teenage weeb, and see my previous note about cultural research.

Bonus Round: Weight

If you made it this far I have one last gripe and I want you to spread the word: swords are not heavy. Every time I read about a noodle-armed protag struggling to lift a sword I want to scream. The average weight of a historical zweihander—the swords so big they’re used as polearms—is about 5lbs. There are books heavier than that. Unless the sword in your story is made of tungsten for some reason there is no reason it should be hard to heft. Tiring to fight with? Sure. But swords aren’t made to be cumbersome and acting like one can’t wield them at all without doing a whole montage about it first looks really silly to anyone with even a passing familiarity with fencing… which will be a sizable chunk of your audience.

[historicalfightingguide]

"The Historical Fencing Channel is an organization that disparate historical fencing groups come together and, through agreement, to collectively validate and recognize the efforts of their individual members. In doing so a "common ground" and sense of community is created within, through which ideas, methods, and knowledge may be shared in order to promote the growth of both groups and their members beyond what would otherwise be separately achievable. This Channel is a common ground for members to submit videos of their interpretations, to create a library of techniques from differing groups"

More specifically we can see Adam Franti of the Lansing Longsword Guild in all the videos of this playlist - covering a lot of the basic strikes, guards and concepts of Meyer Dussack(effectively a form of medieval/renaissance central-european saber that usually had a (semi)complex hilt but was often practiced with leather and wooden practice weapons with simpler guards).

On that note here’s a masterpost of sorts of Meyer content on this blog

You may also remember Adam from the earlier methodology and murderhobos posts.

The provoker-taker-hitter tactical concept and its uses are quite relevant to dussack as a weapon.

You may also enjoy this general one-handed sword according to Meyer video as well

(and keep in mind the dussack is used by Meyer within his 1571 book as a basis for all one-handed weapons).

As well as these videos on how to apply the Meyer square to a dussack, and some other dussack-handling drills.

Lastly you might find the dussack tag of the blog relevant too.

For anyone who hasn’t yet seen the following links:

.

.

.

.

Some advice on how to start studying the sources generally can be found in these older posts

.

.

.

.

Remember to check out  A Guide to Starting a Liberation Martial Arts Gym as it may help with your own club/gym/dojo/school culture and approach.Check out their curriculum too.

.

.

.

.

Fear is the Mind Killer: How to Build a Training Culture that Fosters Strength and Resilience by   Kajetan Sadowski   may be relevant as well.

.

.

.

.

“How We Learn to Move: A Revolution in the Way We Coach & Practice Sports Skills”  by Rob Gray  as well as this post that goes over the basics of his constraints lead, ecological approach.

.

.

.

.

Another useful book to check out is  The Theory and Practice of Historical European Martial Arts (while about HEMA, a lot of it is applicable to other historical martial arts clubs dealing with research and recreation of old fighting systems).

.

.

.

.

Trauma informed coaching and why it matters

.

.

.

.

Look at the previous posts in relation to running and cardio to learn how that relates to historical fencing.

.

.

.

.

Why having a systematic approach to training can be beneficial

.

.

.

.

Why we may not want one attack 10 000 times, nor 10 000 attacks done once, but a third option.

.

.

.

.

How consent and opting in function and why it matters.

.

.

.

.

More on tactics in fencing

.

.

.

.

Types of fencers

.

.

.

.

Open vs closed skills

.

.

.

.

The three primary factors to safety within historical fencing

.

.

.

.

Worth checking out are this blogs tags on pedagogy and teaching for other related useful posts.

.

.

.

.

And if you train any weapon based form of historical fencing check out the ‘HEMA game archive’ where you can find a plethora of different drills, focused sparring and game options to use for effective, useful and fun training.

.

.

.

.

Check out the cool hemabookshelf facsimile project.

.

.

.

.

For more on how to use youtube content for learning historical fencing I suggest checking out these older posts on the concept of video study of sparring and tournament footage.

.

.

.

.

The provoker-taker-hitter tactical concept and its uses

.

.

.

.

.

Approaches to goals and methodology in historical fencing

.

.

.

.

.

A short article on why learning about other sports and activities can benefit folks in combat sports

.

.

.

.

.

Consider getting some patches of this sort or these cool rashguards to show support for good causes or a t-shirt like to send a good message while at training.

[inevitableisopod]

Longswords and you, pt 1

So, to furtherance! the first thing im going to address is what i imagine will be of interest to the vast majority of people that actually want to read this blog, the longsword!

so, now what is a longsword? unfortunately, we don't know. the term longsword is a modern definition that is not necessarily indicative of historical perception, and as such it instead refers to a group of swords spanning approximately 4 centuries (first emerging in the 1200s, and being used right through the 1600s and slightly in the 1700s albeit with much diminished regularity), that differ in application and design, but never the less share certain characteristics, these being:

long double edged blades, usually 10 cm either side of a meter, but bare in mind this can very wildly

relatively long handles, easily taking 2, or even 2 and a half hands, ending in a rather pronounced lump of metal called a pommel

a long crossbar that forms the guard, giving the entire thing a roughly cruciform shape.

one of these basically

Unfortunately these rules are neither hard nor fast, but give the general idea!

Next i'll discuss its impact in modern western culture and usage!

May your edges stay sharp and your points true

[m1dori-eyes]

Begging fantasy authors who want to write about Medieval or Renaissance era warfare to please stop describing every single conflict as a bunch of people running at each other with longswords and full plated armor. Like yeah those battles between heavy infantry units DID happen a few times but the VAST MAJORITY of battles were fought between two bodies of LIGHT INFANTRY, aka a bunch of peasants in normal clothes with spears. Warfare was expensive as fuck, armor costs time and money to make, swords cost time and money to make, people cost time and money to be trained in swords and armor, and most militaries just couldn't afford to go through all that shit. If you want to send an army at someone, you give a bunch of locals spears, because spears are cheap, big, and a lot of individual fights were just decided by who could land the first blow. People didn't have hit points like in a video game, if you get stabbed through the shoulder with a pike then you were kinda just fucked from there, and polearms were longer than swords so you'd hopefully get the chance to attack your enemy before they could attack you. A one-handed sword is the weapon of a mounted warrior who needs their other hand on the reigns, a gladiator being made to fight for spectacle, or a rich person trying to honorably duel another rich person. They're flashy and have certain uses such as close quarters combat, but they're not practical for general military usage. Swords and shields were sometimes used in large scale warfare, but only by people who could afford them, which were wealthy commanders and a very select few units of elite infantry. And full armor??? Aside from being one of the most expensive things someone could buy, plate armor requires TRAINING AND TIME JUST TO PUT ON AND TAKE OFF. You think just any old ruler could afford to outfit an entire battalion of people with full armor, train them how to use it, and then arrange each battle so that they would have enough time to put it on before fighting? Just for them to fight on foot and not even on horseback??? Armored footsoldiers were niche, they existed but only when horses were impractical or otherwise inaccessible. Stop putting them everywhere, if that armored knight in your book could be on a horse in that situation, then they absolutely were. Also if you're on foot with a sword, and an enemy combatant on a horse runs at you, there's basically nothing you can do, armor or not!!! You either get incredibly lucky, dodging their strike and then happening to strike one of the few weak points on the lower half of standard cavalry armor, or the infinitely more likely thing happens and they hit you with enough momentum to immediately kill you on impact, before you can even get close to reaching them with your sword. The power of a warrior on horseback doesn't come from the arm strength of the warrior, it comes from the speed of the horse. Spears are the best weapon to use against other spear wielders, and will give you the largest chance of survival when you're outclassed by cavalry. Fantasy writers please just give everyone in big infantry battles a spear they make so much sense and they're so cool please I am begging you.

[aikoiya]

LoZ LU - The Rhythm of the Universe

I hc that if Cadence of Hyrule's Link, Rhythm/Tempo (I like Rhythm best, but Tempo also works, so he'd likely respond to both), were part of LU, he'd be something like August Rush. Able to hear the music in everything & able to play just about any instrument after just a bit of experimentation. Though, this particular Link just outright enjoys it.

Keep in mind that Caladbolg is a two-handed weapon. It big! And it deals high damage. However, it wouldn't be his only available weapon by a long shot. Surprisingly, he'd also have the Kokiri Sword (which would likely get a reaction from Time), which is only one-handed, allowing him to also use a shield at the same time, & even deals more damage than Caladbolg. Where Caladbolg shines is in its extra range, being a Longsword.

He also has Fragarach, which is a Broadsword that can pierce shields, thereby making it very useful against Darknuts & Iron Knuckles, though it deals middling damage. Then, there's Impa's Naginata, which both poisons enemies & heals the player after every 5 foes defeated (which basically makes it a Life Steal weapon). The Hylian Flail does little damage, but it also has good range & knockback.

Also, when Tempo, Harmony, Cadence, & Octavo were sent forward in time, it was specifically to the Downfall Timeline. To not long after Time was killed. It was their defeat of Ganon that made it possible for the Sages to seal him away later.

Anyway, his sense of Kairos & rhythm would also be near perfect & he'd likely be oddly in-tune with the overall rhythm & resonance of the universe. And his pattern recognition skills would most likely be on point, able to figure out almost any enemy's fighting pattern very, very quickly.

I also see him just having a naturally strong talent for acoustomagy (music magic). Also being able to memorize just about any song just from hearing it once or twice.

Seriously, the Paladin of the Oath of Music vibes on this man is absolutely ridiculous. He's also just more innately in-tune with magic. I could see him figuring out how sound waves interact with the world & using that to create spell songs of his own. Ones that utilize things like acoustic levitation, acoustic hydroremediation (purifying water through sound), healing, & causing plants to grow faster.

These are actually things that sound waves can actually do even without magic, just generally on a smaller scale, so channeling magic through sound would likely do even more.

Though, the acoustic hydroremediation might cause Rulie to have hope for his own Hyrule. He may even ask Rhythm to teach him how.

Rhythm has a bit of a fascination with weapons that double as musical instruments or musical instruments that double as weapons. Things like maceracas, a bladed battle-lute, ect. He can also be very musically experimental when he wants to be.

He's taken up woodwork, amateur metalworking, & even magical infusion to see just how creative he can get with making musical weapons. Some have been hits & others misses. This will eventually lead to him becoming the Royal Jubalturner of Hyrule.

... What if he was the one who made the Wind Waker??? This would fit well with my idea of the Wind Waker having a song that, when played, can turn it into a sort of Rapier of the Winds. While it'd be a sword, it would work similarly to how Artemis used the Wind Waker, but if it were happening while she was using the Rapier. But I imagine the wind cutting through enemies rather than blowing them away or confusing them. Working something like the Sectumsempra spell from HP if it had a wind effect.

(Not quite satisfied with the guard. Also, I based the design on some of the parts found in the Instant Armory app. If you like to make items & weapons, you might wanna check it out to get a bit of inspiration.)

The green gems are Emeralds, which are very rare & are known to be imbued with Wind Magic.

When in this form, the Wind's Requiem, Song of Passing, Song of Storms, Wind God's Aria, & so on & so forth, will all result in an offensive attack. Wind's Requiem & Wind God's Aria will both boost the rapier's default wind slice attacks, the Aria taking on a similar power to a Skyward Strike, though of both Divine & Wind Magic. Song of Passing will depend on if it's day or night & the phase of the moon. Daytime means a strong wave of Light Magic (Solar specifically), night will create a Twilight (Lunar specifically) or Shadow Magic strike. However, Shadow Magic will only come out under the new moon. Song of Storms will infuse the rapier's blade with a charge of Lightning Magic.

Basically, it makes this a very versatile weapon. Anyway, there are other songs, but these are the ones I thought of off the top of my head.

The Wind Waker may have been a gift to his dear friend, Harmony (who he knew had a certain inclination towards the use of rapiers & magic), which has since been passed down in the Royal Family as an heirloom. However, it's offensive capabilities have been forgotten.

My thoughts are that the Chain initially believe that the 2 aren't the same one, but a while after Rhythm shows them the Rapier of the Winds, Wind gets into a situation where a monster was comin' in hot. He already had his Wind Waker out & he wasn't sure if there was enough time to get the Phantom Sword out. So, in a panic & without even thinking, he did the directions above & his Wind Waker turned into the Rapier of the Winds, thereby proving that it was, indeed, the baton that Rhythm made.

Anyway, Rhythm's fighting style would also probably be just innately dancelike & would be able to bounce back quickly from most any mess up. Think if Capoeira used swords. In that even if he does mess up, he's able to make it look like he didn't. Which results in him being very good at course correcting & creating new strategies on-the-fly mid-fight in a way that makes it look intentional.

However, he'd also be prone to timekeeping as it helps him think. If you've ever seen Akeela & the Bee, she does something similar. This results in Rhythm tapping, sometimes unconsciously, when he's bored. He also tends to hum or whistle when he's happy. At the same time, he's also... fantastically bad at stealth when he's not tuned into the sounds of the night or in the right mindset.

He likes birds & birdwatching. He's prone to whistling back at them. Often mimicking their calls. He's actually very good at bird calls.

He's also just optimistic by nature, has stupid good hearing &, if he were to train that way, I think he'd be able to develop a type of echolocation. (However, I don't think he'd ever think to try.)

However, due to being so in-tune with nature & having such good hearing, he can get overwhelmed with sensory input, especially if he visits Castle Town.

The first few times he's there, he's overstimulated by all the sounds, the talking, the screaming, everything. And he'd likely make a break for the woods to just calm down as he takes in the more peaceful & manageable rhythm of organic life there.

But leaving for the forest isn't the only way to be able to calm down when confronted with all the noise of Castle Town. Another way is for him to take a deep breath & find the music in that too, much the way that August did. Instead of resisting it, take a moment to let it wash over him so his mind can compartmentalize it & identify the beat of the city's heart.

Though, that'd most likely be something he'd have to learn to do over time.

Once he's able to recognize the beat within the discord of the city, it's easier for him to acclimate to it & refind his own inner rhythm & allow it to exist alongside the city's, admittedly, more cacophonous beat.

Even then, Rhythm would likely see it similar to concerts in that it can be exciting, but a bit much at times & he'd likely go out to the forest & tune into that in order to decompress.

The city isn't a bad or disharmonious sound. Just a new one that can be a bit loud & difficult to get used to, is all.

And once he figures it out himself, I see him being the sort to help teach any other Links who also get overwhelmed with the hustle & bustle how to not let it get to them either.

Rhythm doesn't sing often, because he's shy about it, except for when he's completely alone or with someone he loves & trusts. However, when he does sing, it's, in a word... heavenly.

Also, he has an odd ability to translate a situation or something he or someone is going through into song as he finds that it makes it easier for him to process things. This also results in him both being one of the most empathetic & emotionally mature of the Links with some of the best coping methods, as well as giving him something of a Vibe Check ability.

Also, I hc that he was Time's father (though, if that's the case, his nickname being Tempo could be used as a cheeky nod to that). That Rhythm likely died during the Hyrulean Civil War. That he died of an arrow through the back of the skull due to having missed a beat in battle. (I know that in the manga, Time's dad died of an ax through the chest, but tweaks happen.) I also believe that his death at that time was not the plan. I think that, at the very least, he was supposed to guide Time through his adventure rather than Navi. But his death put a spanner in the works & destiny does what it can to make things turn out... at least somewhat manageable...

... Fudge... Imagine him singing "Remember Me" from Coco with his wife to baby Time before leaving for battle for the last time... Then imagine Time's mom singing it to him alone in her last moments beneath the Deku Tree...

Imagine Rhythm joining the Chain, perhaps a few months before his wife gives birth & him humming the song & Time's just like, "?!?!?!"

And he has absolutely no understanding of why other than the melody being hauntingly familiar & it invoking a feeling of unconditional love in him that echoes with some far off memory that's so fuzzy it's like looking into a thick fog. But in a way that causes his heart to ring with a note of sad longing & loss.

Yet he doesn't understand it at all.

I'm thinking about how Moses could remember the melody his mother sang to him as a baby in "Prince of Egypt" even before meeting Miriam. Remember how he whistled the tune to himself as he approached Rameses, who was hiding in the shadow of a statue?

Like that.

Perhaps he really remembers it, or perhaps it was unconscious.

Anyway, had Rhythm been able to be a dad, I imagine him being similar to Greg Demayo-Universe in a lot of ways. Just, ya know, a more fighty one who can actually be strict when he thinks it's necessary. And will go out of his way to educate his kid.

So, I think that'd show up here in an au where he joins the Chain.

---

Alt Idea: Before going to fight in the Civil War, Rhythm escorts his wife & infant son to the Kokiri Forest & asks the Deku Tree to grant his family sanctuary so that he may protect his home without needing to worry about them.

Here, Rhythm still dies, but his wife lives & she becomes sort of like the Wendy for the Lost Boys. As such, she's able to raise Time &, as a result, he's much more well-adjusted.

It's even possible that, because of this, the Master Sword does not put Time to sleep for 7 years due to him being more developmentally mature.

2ndary Alt Idea: What if there was a timeline where Rhythm had seen the sort of people that Kōme & Kotake were & he was like, "nope, I ain't leaving this kid here with them"?

Then he steals Ganondorf away & he ends up Time's older brother. Maybe Kōme & Kotake try to get Gdorf back & things spiral.

Maybe Rhythm kills the Twinrova? Maybe the Twinrova kill Rhythm & take Gdorf back? Don't know.

LoZ Linked Universe Masterlist

[thesadadventurersgame]

I forgot to post about the powers, forgive me hehe

made this in class and even though I've checked it more than 4 times, there may still be a typo or another here an there. Anyways, here's a more detailed look into the gods powers and a bonus

General powers:

Empathy ; the power to read, interpret, assimilate and intensify emotions and moods:

The gods can freely read and interpret emotions, however, they will be able to intensify the emotions to which they correspond to with no difficulty, as for the others, the further the emotion is from the Gods assigned emotion, the more difficult it will be for them to manipulate that emotion.

Example: Mc can manipulate sadness naturally, anger easily and happiness with extreme difficulty.

“Climate control”:

If a God feels a very strong emotion, the climate around the region they’re in will change drastically. They don’t necessarily control it, but I didn't have a better name.

Sadness will cause rain, storms and snow, drastically reducing the temperature. Anger will make the weather uncomfortably hot, it may also causes typhoons and occasionally tsunamis or volcanic eruptions.

Happiness will make the day sunny and cloudless and, at night, it will make the moon shine brighter. Love will make flowers bloom no matter the season and at night it will create a meteor shower. Fear makes everything dark and cold, the more fear the God feels, the darker and colder it gets.

and others powers such as telepathy, illusions, regeneration, magic in general, cursing/blessing and fortification by emotion (in that case, the one associated with them)

They may also unintentionally inflict their respective emotions on other people close to them.

Example: If mc starts crying, even for something silly, the people around them will start crying too, but that's it. On the other hand, if it is due to deep sadness…

mc’s powers:

Some will vary according to their species, but the characteristic powers of the deity of sadness are:

Tear manipulation/attack, It will generally be used to create the MC's weapon of choice.

Healing tears, ice manipullation, (emotional) pain infliction. you will be able to choose which of these powers (except tear manipulation) you are best at or if you have never trained with any of them. The fewer powers you have trained with, the weaker you will be.

Ahladita’s powers:

general fairy powers, light manipulation (generally used to create her weapon of choice: a spear), Luck giving.

Itoko’s powers:

general merfolk powers, supernatural beauty, has a lovebow, love detection and healing.

Gunnar’s powers:

general demon powers, blood manipulation/attack, Jinx and pain infliction.

Dougla’s powers:

???

Dalia’s and Orpheus will be presented in-game.

Bonus "What weapons will I be able to choose?"

You will be able to choose between: A longsword, greatsword, daggers, trident, giant hammer, spear, bow, harp, a violin or none if you want your mc to just use magic, brute force or just a goofball that doesn't fight

[mactiir]

sword misconceptions part 2: shortsword

Post series: longsword | rapier | buckler | dagger | spear

so as I'm getting back into fantasy lit as a historical fencer, there are a lot of things I am noticing cropping up in swordfights that are inaccurate or flat out wrong. So i wanted to write a post for my fellow writers putting down a few things I've learned in 2.5 years of swinging the actual weapons around!

Disclaimer: i REALLY wanna emphasize this because in my last post someone decided to get cute (and wrong) about this. Historical terms for weapons were NOT STANDARDIZED. There as no "one" longsword/rapier/shortsword etc when we're talking about a weapon that existed for hundreds of years across an entire continent. And "shortsword" especially is not a specific term. As how you use weapons are governed more by their properties than their names, you can generalize many things that may not have historically been called "shortswords" under this term. There are like five or six different weapons which have distinct traditions in HEMA which match the fantasy game description of "shortsword". So I'm talking here about any one-handed, straight-bladed, double-edged sword with a (mostly) simple hilt/crossguard and a blade length typically between 2 and 3 feet. As "shortsword" is a generic and not a specific weapon descriptor, this covers what we in HEMA call arming swords, gladiuses, some messers, and probably a bunch of other types of swords I can't think of right now (the "simple hilt" rule is because I'm putting italian side swords and scotch broadswords in a different category. They feel really really different to wield than an arming sword/messer, and classing them as shortswords feels wrong).

Misconception 1: dual wielding shortswords is safe and effective.

When you dual wield, you really REALLY want different length weapons in each hand -- like a dagger in the offhand. Otherwise they cross over each other, get in each other's way, and generally slow you down and mess you up. We'll dual wield matching weapons for fun sometimes, but it strangely feels very unsafe and most of the time you have to resort to windmilling (getting stabbed in the chest as a result). Is this a skill issue? Maybe partially, but there's another reason to have a shorter weapon in your weaker hand, and it's physics. Maintaining parry structure and speed in a full size blade is really hard to do in your weaker, non dominant hand, so if you're going to hold an offhand weapon, you want it to be something that can't be easily wrenched or beaten aside, and instead something that has more leverage (like a short lil dagger!) so that you can turn aside incoming hits without the sword getting blasted aside. If you have a character that's really, truly ambidextrous they might be able to legitimately dual wield full length weapons, but most of the time this one just looks silly.

Misconception 2: since it's a one handed weapon, you shouldn't use your nondominant hand at all.

One of my favorite things about slashy one handed weapons like messer and arming sword is that your offhand still gets a job, but it has to diversify its job prospects! Most "shortsword" traditions aren't like modern fencing the way saber or rapier are, where you only use your sword arm. In messer, which is a very grappling-focused system, your offhand's job is to grab your opponent's arm, put them in joint locks, seize the opponent's blade after you've locked it in a bind, and otherwise be a nuisance. In arming sword and buckler, the offhand holds a lil shield, whose job then becomes to suppress the opponent's sword by shoving the buckler into a bind, protect your sword hand, parry afterblows, or deny entire target areas to your opponent. Most shortswords are NOT weapons designed to be used without backup from your other hand in some way. Don't just have your character hacking an arming sword around. Have them close distance, grapple hard, yank, push, armlock, trip. Shortswords don't grant the luxury of distance longswords can. You have to be up close and very personal.

Misconception 3: shortswords are faster than bigger weapons.

And in close quarters, they sure as hell ARE faster, because that's where longswordsget jammed up by proximity. But "close quarters", in this case, is "less than five feet apart". I'm talking CLOSE. Correct to: measured by speed of the hand, you can swing a shortsword more times per minute than a longer weapon. But a few things equalize that: their length, so you have to step in to score a hit, making them slower; and their relative lack of mass. This seems counterintuitive, but think of it this way: cutting a longsword around often just involves redirecting its velocity, which is already trying to continue forward due to its mass, in a different direction. Cutting a shorty around often involves restarting the whole cut: it's probably stopped against your opponent's weapon or bounced off, so you have to re-engage your swinging muscles to get it moving again. This is why when you watch sword and buckler or messer fighting, fencers will often avoid binding their blades at all costs and instead repeatedly disengage under or around each other's blades instead -- because in this situation, with good footwork, the sword actually FEELS its proper speed. A two-handed sword is going to be faster and more nimble than a one-handed sword in almost all cases UNTIL you get close enough that the longsword wielder can no longer move their sword properly -- which is well within the longsword's cutting range.

Misconception 4: shortswords are for weaker characters than longswords.

My beef with d&d 5e is that every sword SHOULD be a finesse weapon with a strength prereq to wield. Yes, shortswords ARE lighter than longswords, but only by about a pound. Add that to the fact that you can only use one hand to hold it and the fact that you're probably trying to swing it faster due to being practically in the other guy's teeth, I find short swords actually more physically taxing to wield than longswords. They burn out your dominant shoulder BAD and there's no way to relieve the weight on your arm without dropping your sword and probably taking a point to the chest. Yes, they are easier to pick up. They are harder to fence/fight with for extended lengths than longswords, at least to me.

That's all I can think for now! Hmu with any questions or confusions.

[talenlee]

4e: Having A (Weapon) Type

Surely I’ve written about this already.

The 4e weapon system is one of its strongest points and it’s strength is directly linked to the ongoing attempt to make ‘person who uses a weapon’ as someone who can do cool or good things and not just being there to hold the wizard’s bags. The fundamental design of melee weapon-wielding characters’ powers is that the powers tend towards a generic set of effects, doing damage, pushing people around, pulling them, repositioning you – all that kinda jazz. But then, through feats, the powers that checked for weapons would be able to check the weapon you were using and add on special effects.

What this meant is that the weapon system of 4e is one of the most interesting I’ve seen in D&D where weapon choice is not a simple matter of mathematical superiorities. Back in 3e and 2e D&D there were just weapons that were the best in show. 2e went a step further than 3e did by making it so that some classes were simply not allowed to use the best weapons and this was a point of balance for them, which is how you know that the 2e wizard was so weak, since it only got to use the longsword when it was a bladesinger.

That’s a joke, and the only people who are going to get it are older than me.

4e weapons had basically four things that could be used to distinguish one weapon from any another:

A weapon category. All the hammers were listed as hammers. All the axes were axes. All the spears are spears. This sounds simple, but don’t worry about it for now.

A proficiency bonus. This represents the bonus you get to attacks made with this weapon if you’re trained in how to use it. This makes weapons beneficial to use if you’re trained in them and also represents the level of effect you can get out of being an expert in them.

Damage dice! This represents the scale of damage the weapon can do – multiple smaller dice being more even and capable of doing reliable damage, and single larger dice having more variance between high and low numbers.

Keywords. These are the key spice to this whole soupy mess, which means that suddenly you have a lot of standardised ways to make weapon groups relate to one another.

The keywords that a weapon can have isn’t even that long:

Brutal (reroll low numbers, sick as hell, used by the coolest and hottest heroes)

Defensive (gives you a defense bonus, good for people with shield envy)

Heavy Thrown (a huckable item you can use with strength)

High Crit (when you crit, you really crit)

Light Thrown (a huckable item you can use with dexterity)

Load Free (something to do with crossbows, who cares)

Load Minor (oh no more crossbow stuff)

Off-hand (ranger stuff)

Small (it’s small)

Stout (it’s not small)

Versatile (it can be small)

Every one of these factors can be fine tuned and there are trends within a category. For example, most light blades, in the vein of swords (you know, sword, smaller sword, bigger sword, much bigger sword, much smaller sword) tend to have no keywords that change their damage output, and instead their keywords relate to being usable and flexible. To compensate for this, they have the highest proficiency bonus (typically) for their damage dice, and swing at +3.

But that’s swords, that’s the cisgender white boy who listens to podcasts of the weapon sets. Sure, that’s the one that somehow mathematically winds up on top but that’s just because of fundamental biases from the people who designed the system. And in the context of the weapon system of 4e D&D, there are things you want to be able to do that aren’t necessarily damage (and hush up, CharOp board veterans since there are actually better things than dead and shaving fractions of turns only matters when dealing with spherical goblins in a vacuum).

Polearms and spears tend to be reach based! Axes and hammers tend to be heavy! Flails are chainy and daggers are stabby! But for most part, when you pick up one of these items, most of these traits aren’t immediately evident. Instead, you can invest in feats for proficiency with fancy weapons, or feats that support the way those weapons work. Every single weapon expertise feat, representing skill with that weapon, brings with it a special benefit that changes how those weapons relate to the powers that use weapons.

What this means is that when you play a character who uses weapons, what weapon you choose to use can be a part of how you relate to your powers. If your feats are in demand for something else, you can look at the support your weapon gives a small number of things. Just as an example, one of the most poached parts of the game in Character Optimisation is what I summarise as ‘Polearm Malarkey,’ which when fully developed, lets a defender of some variety interrupt an enemy attack, even against themselves sometimes, and push an enemy mid-attack a square away, then knock them prone – which can be their whole turn, since they were already in the middle of an attack. That’s really powerful but it needs a lot of feats. On the other hand, if you like being able to knock people prone and deprive them of actions and only have one feat or two to invest in it, you could try and wield a flail instead, and use Flail Expertise, then choose your powers in a way that let you impose slides on people. All that malarkey the defender with a fully mature polearm build can do, a level 1 Avenger or Swordmage can do with Flail Expertise…

But there’s not a lot more the flail expertise can do with that.

And that means there’s not just the matter of what a weapon can do but what it can grow into. Crucially though, and this is very important, at every step along the way these weapons are pretty good and offer rewards for what you’ve invested. It’s not like the 3e feat chain design where players take feats that suck pants in exchange for the promise of one day being able to Whirlwind Attack and then have nothing more for their build to look forward to.

Great system. I love when I see a coherent, sensible system like this built into a TTRPG from the baseline. Realism and historicity are not that important when the weapons designed in the game are game objects that players are meant to interact with! Make it so nobody has to make bad choices to get to better choices! You don’t get anything by putting traps in front of your players!

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[leviathans-watching]

D&D(evildom) Beyond!

my half of a trade done with @kasketart! it was a pleasure working with you and i hope you enjoy!!

includes: lucifer x gn!oc (they/them pronouns used)

wc: 6.5k | rated t | m.list | posted on ao3

a/n: i know very little about dnd, so s/o to my brother who is a dm answered all of my questions & beta-read this for me. i appreciate you!! but anyway, i tried my best to make this work similarly to actual dnd so i apologize for any glaring mistakes lol // i also have a drive folder here with character sheets i used as reference if that's something you want, and i was very intentional about choosing the classes i did for the characters but i will admit lucifer being a paladin was mostly irony lmao. this was also written before dungeons and demons dropped // also, for general requests, i do not write oc's, but since this was a trade where i received something in return, kasketart had more autonomy over the work that an anon requester or wtv would have

“Leviathan, Abel, what were you doing?” Lucifer prompts, and the two share a look.

“We were playing Dungeons and Dragons,” Leviathan begins slowly, “which, now that I’m looking–”

“–Our opening scene was awfully similar to this,” Abel finishes.

“Wait, are you saying you think we’re in your campaign?” Satan asks, eyes wide, and Leviathan nods.

“I mean, it makes total sense,” he says with budding excitement. “Like, I’m obviously supposed to be a ranger, Abel’s definitely an artificer, and Lucifer’s a total paladin. This is so cool, it’s like my dreams are being brought to life right before my eyes!” 

Lucifer grimaces as he sits up, head splitting. It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to notice his surroundings, and by that, he means notice he and his brothers (and the new exchange student, Abel), are in a forest, and an unfamiliar one at that. 

Now, this is concerning for several reasons, but the most pressing is because he could have sworn he had gone to sleep in his bed last night, in his favorite silk pajamas. Not whatever outfit he’s got on now. Black and red gauntlets weigh heavily on his arms, and as he looks, he notices he’s got a complete set of armor to match, completed with a variation of what seems to be his normal cloak. Beside him, in the dirt, sits an obsidian longsword with a matching shield bearing the Lamentation insignia. 

He’s pulled out of his examinations by Mammon, who is now clad in a brown cloak with yellow lining, an instrument slung across his back. “Where the hell are we?” 

“I… don’t know,” Lucifer says, hating the uncertainty. “Is everyone alright?” 

Around him, his brothers all give out varying positive answers, all dressed as strangely as he and Mammon. Abel stands as well, brushing off leaves and dirt from their pants. They’re one of the more normally dressed, which isn’t saying much, but Lucifer thinks it’s a relief that he doesn’t have to worry about them being handed a weapon of some sort. Until he sees the dagger at their waist, sheathed in brown leather.

“This isn’t the Devildom,” Belphegor points out, and Lucifer spins around, still semi-awkward in the armor. As the most powerful demon in the Devildom, Lucifer never needed armor, and when he was an angel they were more or less protected by divine blessings. So he’s never worn anything quite like the get-up he’s got on now and wishes it could stay that way, as the weight and clunkiness isn’t exactly pleasant. 

“Why are we here?” Satan asks, dark green robes swirling as he does his own examination of their surroundings. 

“That, I do not know,” Lucifer says, swallowing his instinctive urge to act like he knows everything, like he’s in control. It wouldn’t do to appear more confident than he is, especially with so many unknowns still present. “Everybody should think back to what they were doing before you woke up here. Maybe something was triggered by one of our actions.” 

“I was sleeping,” Belphegor volunteers, “so as you can imagine, I’m not exactly pleased to be here.” 

“None of us are,” Mammon bites back, “so can it. And I was just watchin’ TV. Nothin’ related to whatever all this is.” 

“I was editing one of my Devilgram posts,” Asmodeus says, examining his white tunic with a look of distaste. “And I really need to post it, like ASAP.” 

“I was in the library,” Satan adds, “but nowhere near the cursed section.” 

“Leviathan, Abel, what were you doing?” Lucifer prompts, and the two share a look. 

“We were playing Dungeons and Dragons,” Leviathan begins slowly, “which, now that I’m looking–” 

“–Our opening scene was awfully similar to this,” Abel finishes. 

“Wait, are you saying you think we’re in your campaign?” Satan asks, eyes wide, and Leviathan nods. 

“I mean, it makes total sense,” he says with budding excitement. “Like, I’m obviously supposed to be a ranger, Abel’s definitely an artificer, and Lucifer’s a total paladin. This is so cool, it’s like my dreams are being brought to life right before my eyes!” 

“Okay, well stop nerdin’ out because it’s not my dream,” Mammon insists. “And what the hell am I supposed to be?” 

“I think a bard,” Abel answers. “And I think Belphegor is supposed to be a rogue, Beelzebub is a barbarian, Satan is a wizard, and Asmodeus is a cleric.” 

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Asmodeus says. “Are clerics, like cool or something?” 

“Before we get into all of that,” Lucifer says, pinching at the bridge of his nose, “I think we should figure out how we got here. And why. Leviathan, where’d you get the game and what happened when you were setting up to play?” 

“Well, Diavolo gave me the game,” Leviathan begins, and Lucifer chokes. 

“Diavolo? You accepted a game from him? And played it? Leviathan, you know his penchant for practical jokes and games. That explains everything.” 

“We were playing with Barbatos, too,” Abel says suddenly. “He was our DM. Why didn’t he come here with us too?” 

“I’M AFRAID I AM STUCK IN THE GAME AS WELL,” a voice booms from the sky, and with a jolt, Lucifer realizes it’s Barbatos. “ONLY, I AM STILL THE DM.”

“This is so cool,” Leviathan whimpers, and Abel slaps him on the shoulder. 

“Dude, focus!” 

“Barbatos, do you know how we get out of here?” Lucifer asks, looking up into the disarmingly blue sky, so unlike the maroons and blacks of the Devildom. 

“I DO NOT THINK WE CAN,” he replies regretfully, the ground shaking slightly as he speaks. “KNOWING DIAVOLO, THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH.” 

“Through?” Abel yelps. “Like, through the entire campaign? That could take years!” 

“I do not want to be stuck in here for years!” Asmodeus panics. 

“NOT THE WHOLE CAMPAIGN. MOST LIKELY ONLY THROUGH THE SESSION.” 

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Leviathan says. 

“How long would that take?” 

“Well, we’re all kind of OP, so probably only a few days,” he answers, and Belphegor makes a low noise of protest. 

“A few days?” Beelzebub rumbles mournfully. “What am I supposed to eat here? I’m hungry!” 

“I’m sure we can find some lodgings with some food or something. Maybe there’s an inn or tavern nearby,” Leviathan suggests. 

“A PATH STRETCHES OUT IN FRONT OF YOU,” Barbatos intones, and Lucifer, watches disbelieving, as the air shimmers, revealing a dirt path stretching on into the distance. Now, he’s seen a lot of things in his time in the realms, but never anything quite like this.

“I’ll bet that leads into town,” Abel breaks the silence. “Maybe we should go down it?” They turn to Lucifer expectantly, and for once, he has no desire to be in control, feeling more out of his depth than he has in a long time. 

“I will leave this up to you and Leviathan,” he says, clearing his throat. “You do have the most experience, after all.” 

“That we do,” Leviathan nods, and it doesn’t escape Lucifer’s notice that he’s been smiling this entire time. This truly is a dream come true for him, and Lucifer just hopes he won’t get too overeager and get them in trouble. 

“Perhaps once we find lodging you can explain more of this… Dungeons and Dragons stuff to the rest of us,” he suggests.

“For once, I agree with Lucifer,” Satan agrees, lip curling. “I’d like to know what exactly being a wizard entails.” 

“Well, I definitely think that going down the path would be best,” Abel says, with surprising initiative. In the Devildom, they hadn’t been quite so outspoken, seemingly more anxious and hesitant. “It’s there for a reason.” 

“I agree,” Leviathan says with a nod. 

“But which way should we go down it?” Asmodeus asks. “It goes in either direction, and like, I don’t want to end up going away from town.” 

“How will we find a way to get there?” Belphegor asks, and Leviathan snaps his fingers excitedly. 

“I’ll bet there’s a marker! Barbatos?” 

“ROLL FOR PERCEPTION,” Barbatos instructs, and a moment later, a giant semi-transparent die appears, floating in front of Leviathan. Without hesitation, he plucks it from the air, throwing it down to the ground gently. It rolls across the path, coming to a stop by Satan, who steps back a few feet, away from it. 

“It’s a twelve,” Leviathan pronounces, and the die disappears into thin air, quickly as it had appeared. “And as a ranger… I have a plus four modifier. So sixteen.” 

“YOU NOTICE A SIGN WITH AN ARROW POINTING EAST WITH ‘TOWN’ WRITTEN ON IT.” 

“Nice,” Abel cheers. “Looks like we know which way to go now.” 

“What was all of that?” Beelzebub asks. “Why did that die have so many sides?” 

“That was a D20,” Leviathan replies, slinging his bow over his shoulder, “so it had twenty sides. They’re used to roll for checks, like I just did, in battles, and a lot of other cases. In Dungeons and Dragons, most aspects are determined by dice rolls. Multiple dice are used, and they’re all used for different things.” He pauses, taking in everyone’s blank expressions. “I’m losing, you, aren’t I? Whatever. Let’s just get to lodgings and I’ll explain everything as clearly as I can there.” 

*

The trek to the inn doesn’t take very long at all, but by the end, everyone seems tired and weary. Asmodeus’ complaints about his feet hurting fill Lucifer’s ears, but he focuses more on Abel, who looks confident and alert. Despite being the one who “chose” them and all, Lucifer honestly hasn’t paid much attention to them, besides the necessary. He’s polite and accommodating, yes, but truly, because he’s so busy he hasn’t really had time to get to know them.

Even for a human, Abel seems fairly weak. They don’t have any special powers or any great strength, and though they are diligent and studious, nothing about them has really piqued Lucifer’s interest. Now, he’s a little concerned. He and his brothers all have powers and skills that will hopefully make traversing through this land easier, but they have no such thing. Aside from their knowledge, they’re practically useless. 

Meaning, that for the good of the Devildom, it falls upon Lucifer’s shoulders to ensure they make it out of the game unharmed. 

Once they’re all settled in a room with various bunk beds, quite similar to a Human Realm hostel, they make their way down to the dining hall. 

“AT THE BAR, YOU SEE A MYSTERIOUS-LOOKING HALF-ORC,” Barbatos booms, and Lucifer startles, still unused to his unseen presence. No one else in the hall reacts, so he assumes he’s audible to only them. “AS YOU WATCH, SHE DOWNS A MUG OF ALE WITH A MELANCHOLIC AIR.” 

“Who cares,” Satan grumbles. “None of my business.” 

“That’s not how it works in Dungeons and Dragons,” Abel says patiently. “Side characters are often vessels that take us to the next part of our journey. They usually need help or something, and then there’s typically a reward that benefits us for helping.”

“That’s dumb,” Asmodeus says, crossing his arms.

“How about you all order food–poor Beelzebub looks like he’s going to faint–while Leviathan and I deal with the half-orc,” Abel suggests helpfully, and Lucifer nods. 

“Yes. Let us all find a booth while they deal with her,” he directs, and everyone sits down. “Before we order, let’s figure out much money we have left after renting the room. I really wouldn’t like to find out what sort of punishment we’d receive for being unable to pay our tab.” 

“I miss Goldie,” Mammon groans, digging through his pockets. 

In the end, they have a small pile of coins, but since Lucifer is completely ignorant as to what each coin is worth, he has to resort to flagging down a passing barmaid to inquire. Thankfully, it’s a decent amount and they waste no time placing an order. 

“No ale,” Lucifer says before one of his brothers can do something stupid. It would do them no good to try to maneuver through this world whilst drunk.

Once the barmaid disappears, Lucifer’s left to watch Leviathan and Abel. He can just barely hear them speaking to the half-orc. 

“THE HALF-ORC IS HESITANT TO SPEAK WITH YOU,” Barbatos says, and Lucifer still can’t get over how nobody else but them hears him. “YOU MUST PASS A PERSUASION CHECK.” 

Again, that blue die appears. In an act apparently also not visible to the general public, Leviathan rolls it. From his vantage point, Lucifer can’t see the number, but it’s evidently not good if the way Leviathan’s shoulders slump is any indication. 

“Nine,” he says, “and I don’t get anything else.” 

“YOUR ATTEMPTS ARE UNSUCCESSFUL.” As Lucifer watches, the half-orc gives Leviathan a wary look, turning her whole upper body away in a clear dismissal. “THE HALF-ORC CALLS FOR ANOTHER MUG.” 

“Okay, well that didn’t work,” Leviathan says, returning to the table. “Damn my lack of charisma!” 

“I can try,” Abel suggests. “Though as an artificer, my Charisma isn’t any higher. I’m worried I might make it worse by rolling low. Plus, I’m already not great at talking to people I don’t know.” 

“She doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere,” Lucifer points out after a moment, “so why don’t you and Leviathan explain everything as quickly and succinctly as you’re able so the rest of us can add our input.” 

What follows is a somewhat confusing explanation of the races, classes, fights, checks, and honestly a handful of other things Lucifer struggles to wrap his brain around. It all makes sense, but it’s just… a lot. All at once. 

“So, out of all of us, who would have the best persuasion modifier, or whatever it’s called?” Satan asks, and Leviathan thinks for a moment. 

“Probably Lucifer, to be honest. I’ll bet he’s got a plus three for Charisma.” 

“Me?” Lucifer echoes, surprised. “Does that mean I need to talk to that half-orc?” 

“Well, you should at least roll for it,” Abel says as if it’s the logical next course of action. Lucifer supposes it sort of is. 

“Alright,” he says, standing up and approaching the half-orc. “I want to make a roll for persuasion.” 

The die appears in front of him, and he reaches out. It’s not exactly corporeal, but it does have a weight to it, and Lucifer throws it on the ground as he’d seen Leviathan do. It rolls to a stop, showing a thirteen. He reads the number out, and Leviathan pumps his fist. 

“Nice! You’ve got a plus three, so that makes sixteen!” 

Out of twenty? That’s pretty good, then. Right?

“THE HALF-ORC TURNS TO YOU, UNPROMPTED.” 

“You look like a good listener,” she says, and Lucifer realizes she had done exactly what Barbatos had said. Placing himself in the chair next to her, Lucifer tries for a welcoming face. “And like a strong worrier,” she continues, appraising him. “Do you think you could help me?” 

“I could definitely try,” Lucifer says, and she finally sets her mug down, sighing heavily.

“My name is Shelley, and my troubles all started three weeks ago,” the half-orc, Shelley, says. “My garden was thriving, in the prime of its life! But then he came, and ruined it all.” 

“He?” 

“A three-headed beast,” she says lowly, clenching her fist. Lucifer watches the muscles all of the way up her arm ripple and supposes he’s glad he rolled high. “Apparently, he liked my garden. Enough to frolic everywhere in it and ruin all of my plants! My tomatoes are trampled, my flowers flattened, and my squash, well, they’re squashed. It’s awful!” 

Out of everything Lucifer has expected her to say, this was definitely not it. “That sounds terrible,” he says, channeling the same energy as when he listens to student complaints regarding R.A.D. during open meetings. “Have you tried fighting him?” 

“Oh, yes,” Shelley shakes her head, “but he is too strong for me and my friends. But you and your pals, well, you look like seasoned adventures! Do you think you could help me?” 

Lucifer follows her gaze to his brothers and Abel, who do look pretty badass. Well, they would, if they weren’t all visibly invested in their conversation, with Leviathan going as far as to mouth ‘Say yes! Say yes!” fairly obviously.

“I think that’s doable,” he agrees, returning his attention to Shelley. “Tomorrow, should we meet here? Then you can lead us to your house and garden?” 

“Works for me. I cannot thank you enough, young adventurer,” she says gratefully. “I will see you at ten.” 

“HAVING AGREED TO HELP SHELLEY, LUCIFER RETURNS TO HIS TABLE TO SHARE THE GOOD NEWS,” Barbatos booms, and Lucifer finds his feet moving automatically. 

“That was awesome,” Abel says quickly, and Lucifer doesn’t know why their praise hits them so differently from everyone else’s. Is it because they are just a human, and it is only natural that they should be impressed by him, or is it because they are stroking his ego, fanning his pride? 

“Nice going!” Leviathan cheers, holding out his hand for a high five. Begrudgingly, Lucifer obliges him. “So what exactly are we doing?” 

*

The next morning dawns bright and cheery, but they do not. 

“I can’t believe we’re still stuck here,” Asmodeus complains. “The showers here are communal. Communal! And there’s no body lotion or conditioner or anything! On top of that, I’m expected to put on the same clothes I was wearing yesterday? This is absolutely barbaric!” 

“I want to go back to bed,” Belphegor interjects. “I was forced to be awake all of yesterday and now today too? When are we getting back to the Devildom?” 

“I’m hungry,” Beelzebub adds on, and Lucifer sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. That damned headache from yesterday still hasn’t cleared up completely. 

“The quicker we take care of this quest the quicker we can get back to the Devildom,” Abel says, already dressed and ready. “So chop chop, because if we’re not downstairs soon, we won’t have enough time for breakfast before we leave.” 

That, at least, sent Beelzebub into motion.

“You’re taking this all surprisingly well,” Lucifer says to Abel, who startles.

“Well,” they scratch their neck awkwardly, “this isn’t the first time I’ve been transported into a strange new world.” 

“Ah, yes,” Lucifer says. “I apologize that you have to go through this. This shouldn’t have been a task of yours, as your duties were just to complete your tasks and go through your classes. But Lord Diavolo has always had a strange sense of humor.” 

They hum. “I mean, it’s not like I mind it too much. I’m definitely not having as much fun as Leviathan, but I think this will be a good chance for us all to grow closer. Though we’re all living under the same roof, I haven’t exactly had a chance to grow close with anyone besides Leviathan. I feel like I especially don’t know you, since you’re so busy.” 

Lucifer hasn’t known they had noticed, or even cared about his absence. “I’m sorry about that–” he begins but is swiftly cut off. 

“No, don’t apologize,” Abel says, holding out their hands. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel guilty. I know how incredibly busy you are, what with all your work running this family, for Diavolo, and as the student council president. Honestly, you make me feel guilty,” they continue with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I feel like I don’t do enough for the exchange program in comparison.” 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Lucifer says, semi-awkwardly. It’s been so long since someone has pointed out all of his duties, let alone praised him for completing them. To him, they’re just his duties, so he forgets that the burden he takes on is actually quite sizeable. “You have been scoring well in your classes and you stay on track with your tasks. That’s all you should be doing, considering you’re just a human and all.” 

“Just a human?” they question, raising their eyebrow. “Now, what do you mean by that?” 

“Not any offense, I assure you. Just that, in the Devildom, it would be quite difficult for you to do more than that,” he amends, but Abel doesn’t look assuaged. 

“Difficult?” 

“You know–” and here, Lucifer blames his lack of adequate rest and stress of being in a stressful situation for his words “–humans are quite fragile. Especially compared to demons, let alone demons as powerful as myself and my brothers.” 

“Seriously? That’s what you think of humans?” Abel says lightly, but he can tell they’re offended. “Just because we don’t have powers or live a long, long time doesn’t make us weak.” 

“Objectively speaking,” Lucifer begins, but thankfully, before he can dig himself into even an even deeper hole, Mammon interrupts. 

“We’re all ready, so let’s go.” 

Silently, Lucifer allows Abel to go first, following them out of their room and down the stairs. They grab a quick breakfast of bread and butter, then wait for Shelley. She arrives right at ten, apparently unaffected by the large quantity of alcohol he’s ingested the night before. 

“Good, you’ve arrived!” she says, introducing herself to everyone. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me. My house is only a short trek from here, so if you’re all ready to go…” 

“We are,” Lucifer confirms, hoisting his bag. His armor is still annoying, but he finds it’s getting in his way less and less as he grows more accustomed to it. Everyone else gathers their things, and they follow Shelley out of the tavern and through town. 

As they walk, Shelley explains some of the town's background, which honestly, Lucifer couldn’t care less about. Leviathan and Satan, on the other hand, are engaged, asking questions attentively. 

“My arms hurt,” Belphegor complains, and wordlessly, Beelzebub takes his pack, slinging it over his shoulder. Lucifer supposes that’s better than the alternative, which is him picking up Belphegor and slinging him over his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Beelzebub says kindly. “Hey, Abel, I can carry your bag too, if you want?” 

Abel looks up. “Thanks, but I don’t mind the weight.” 

“It looks pretty heavy,” Belphegor points out, and they smile. 

“It’s not too bad. There’s lots of cool stuff in it and I don’t want to make Beelzebub carry any more weight.” 

If it were anyone else, any of Lucifer’s brothers, they’d have taken Beelzebub up on his offer without any hesitation. The consideration is unusual, but Lucifer is glad to see it being extended, as Beelzebub already bears more weight than the rest of them combined if the thick and wicked armor he’s wearing weighs anything close to what it looks like it should. 

“My house is right up ahead,” Shelley calls, gathering their attention. Lucifer follows her gesture to the very last house on the road, set a bit away from the others to make room for the sprawling garden. The garden that is very clearly in disarray. 

“Bastard,” Shelley spits as they get close, bending down to examine a smushed flower bed. “He’s done more damage since last night.” 

“Where is this beast?” Lucifer asks, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. He still doesn’t really have a clue how to use it, but it makes him feel better. 

“Probably around back,” Shelley says, nodding to the back of her house. “Do you really think you can take of him?” 

“Doubtlessly,” he answers, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But you should probably go back into town. I have no idea what this battle will look like and I’d hate for you to be caught in the crossfire.” 

She hesitates, but Lucifer is insistent. He’d really rather not have her witness the absolute fools of themselves they’re about to make fighting this beast. 

“Fine,” she eventually agrees. “Meet me in the tavern when you’re done. And please, please don’t destroy any more of my garden.” 

“We’ll do our best,” Abel cuts in, looking up at Shelley comfortingly. “I’m sure we’ll meet up with you in no time at all.” 

Oddly enough, it seems like Shelly’s more convinced by Abel than him, though Lucifer's not sure exactly why that would be. Once she’s a good distance away, he turns to the rest of his brothers. 

“I suppose we should get ready for battle, or whatever,” he says, doing his best to channel all the confidence he can. This is just another chapter in their crazy lives; who cares that they don’t know what they’re doing or what the repercussions of getting injured/killed will be? 

“Okay, let’s leave our packs up here,” Leviathan says, “so take what’s essential out of them and leave the rest.” 

Around him, everyone begins getting ready. Lucifer already has his sword and shield, so he figures that’s good, but the others need a little more time. As he watches, Abel pats down their side, checking that their pistols are still there, then digs through the rest of their bag, dumping it out on the grass. It really did have a lot packed in there. 

Selecting a few items, they throw them into their pockets, but for the life of him, Lucifer cannot figure out what they’re doing. 

“Is there a method to this madness?” he asks, stepping forward. Abel looks up, shading their eyes from the sun. Instinctively, Lucifer shifts, blocking the sun from their face, then pauses. Why had he just done that? 

“To be honest, there’s not,” Abel answers frankly, with wry humor. “But I’m an artificer, so I should be able to do something with this stuff, right?” Upon seeing the uncomprehending look on his face, they elaborate. “Well, my talents lie in using infusing magic with everyday items so who knows which of these items will be handy.” 

“I see,” Lucifer says. “But I can’t imagine we will have much use for you in this fight.” 

Rising to their feet, Abel puts their hands on their hips. “What do you mean by that? Is this your whole ‘humans are fragile’ thing again?” 

“I mean,” Lucifer says, “look around. This is not the first conflict my brothers and I have fought in. You, on the other hand, don’t even have the strength to open a jar.” 

“Okay, that was one time. An outlier. So it shouldn’t be counted.” The spirited look in their eyes is captivating. When was the last time Lucifer’d seen such all-consuming passion, let felt it? His days in the Devildom had fallen into a scheduled monotony–even his brothers’ antics were becoming predictable. “And I do have things to bring to the table! Otherwise, why would you have picked my application?”

Lucifer swallows his impulsive words. It would not do for them to find out the truth, nor for it to get back to Diavolo’s ears. 

“Just stay back,” he says instead. “It’s my duty to keep you safe and that is absolutely something I will do.” 

When they’re all finally ready, Lucifer takes the lead, moving quietly around the house's edge. The expanse of the backyard stretches for quite a distance until it meets a forest that is thick and dense. Plants sprawl everywhere, and Lucifer quickly realizes the vegetables and flowers Shelley had mentioned were fairly different from their Human Realm counterparts, namely in size. 

“Holy shit,” Abel breathes, and with a jolt Lucifer realizes they’ve moved to the front of the group, standing next to him. “Those pumpkins are huge!” 

“What are you doing up here?” Lucifer hisses, and they give him a stubborn look, even as they swallow nervously. Thir orneriness is… something else.

“I can be helpful!” they insist. “I’m not going to let you sideline me!” 

“Even though it’s for your own safety?” 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Abel argues, louder, and Beelzebub makes a quiet shushing noise. They pay him no mind, continuing on. “I know you’re used to being in charge, but I’m not your younger sibling. You can’t order me around.” 

“Believe me,” Lucifer says angrily, “I do not see you as my sibling!” 

Before he can go on, a howl rips through the air, bouncing off of the foliage. He freezes, looking around, but the large plants block his view, and Shelley’s plea to avoid damaging more prevents him from just taking them all down. 

“YOU’VE AWOKEN THE BEAST,” Barbatos speaks, and Abel flinches. “YOU SEE MOVEMENT TO THE LEFT. CRASHING AND GROWLING CAN BE HEARD AND AS YOU WATCH, HE EMERGES.”

It’s exactly as he says. A large black paw appears, followed by not one, but three snouts. As the beast moves forward, Lucifer can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“Cerberus?” Asmodeus gasps, confirming that yes, the beast terrorizing Shelley is, in fact, his guard dog. 

But this beast is not his Cerberus, at least not in this world, because it gives no indication of recognition, merely advancing threateningly. Drool drips down from one of his muzzles, splashing off of a leaf on the way down. 

“Cerberus?” Abel squeaks questioningly, but they don’t retreat. 

“Our guard dog,” Satan replies blankly. 

“No,” Lucifer corrects. “This is not our Cerberus. And will not listen to us.” 

“Oh, great.” Leviathan’s voice is suspiciously high-pitched. “Our first battle and it’s with an A-class monster.” 

With an angry bark (from all three mouths), Cerberus leaps forward, into a run. Everyone scatters, but Lucifer, who draws his sword, shouts “I slash at the beast, driving him back!”

Around him, time freezes, and the D20 die appears. He awkwardly rolls the die, sword tucked under his arm, then reads off the result once he’s got his sword back in hand. “Thirteen.” 

“YOU SLASH AT THE BEAST, AND THE HIT JUST BARELY LANDS.” 

In a flash of movent, time unfreezes, and his body’s moving without his permission, doing what Barbatos outlines. Cerberus yelps, and Lucifer tries to ignore how wrong it feels to attack a beloved pet, focusing more on how it looks like it wants to kill him.

“YOU MUST ROLL FOR DAMAGE,” Barbatos says, and a different die appears, one with eight sides. Lucifer rolls it, getting a three, which with his strength modifier makes five.

The beast yelps, but the small wound doesn’t deter him much. With a snarl, he’s back in motion, but moves past him, towards Asmodeus, who screams. 

“I bludgeon the, uh, left head!” Satan yells, shoving Asmodeus back before Lucifer can get there. In a flash–and Lucifer realizes only much later that time must have frozen for Satan to roll all of his dice and everything–Satan’s quarterstaff connects soundly, allowing him and Asmodeus time to get out of the immediate attack range. 

Cerberus tries his paw at attacking Belphie, who barely manages to evade, then Mammon, who must have rolled poorly, for he receives a claw to the chest, raking bloody lines down his chest. 

“Mammon!” Lucifer moves forward without thinking, rushing to Mammon’s side. Thankfully, he’s still conscious, but clearly in pain. Cerberus howls, getting ready for another attack upon his wounded prey, but Lucifer intercepts. 

“I slash at the chest of the beast!” he shouts, and again, time freezes. Lucifer rolls the die, blood running cold when he sees the low number. “Three.” 

“YOU ATTEMPT TO SWING, BUT MISS. CERBERUS’S TEETH DIG INTO YOUR ARM AND TEAR. YOU PASS OUT FROM THE PAIN ALMOST IMMEDIATELY.” Barbatos’ voice shakes slightly as he says this, and almost in slow-motion, time unfreezes. The anticipation is the worst of it. The knowing that he’ll miss, even as his body futilely tries to attack, is horrible and he braces himself for the pain best that he can. 

But before Cerberus’ teeth make contact with the space between his arm and shoulder plate, a small body slams into him, forcing him to the side. Abel, who he’d forgotten about in the heat of the battle, quickly gets back on their feet, panting. 

“What are you doing?” They yell. “Get up, get out of the way!” 

Lucifer does as they instruct, rolling to the side right as Cerberus comes down where he’d been sprawled out moments before. In his haste to get up, he drops his sword and shield, but leaves them, trying to put some distance between himself and the enormous beast. 

From his periphery, he sees Abel pull something from their pocket. “I use my artisan's tool to make this make the sound of a dog’s squeaker!” The thing in their hand begins to omit a high-pitched squeaking, and almost immediately, Cerberus turns on them. “I then throw this as hard and as far as I can into the woods!” 

“YOU MUST ROLL FOR ATHLETICS.” 

The D20 appears, and Abel rolls it; apparently, time is no longer frozen to roll. “Fifteen plus two, so seventeen!”

“YOU PITCH THE TOY AS HARD AS YOU CAN AND IT GOES SAILING INTO THE WOODS.”

With a loud call of “here, boy!” accompanied by a squeeze of the makeshift chew toy, Abel launches the toy into the air. Cerberus chases after it, and Lucifer winces as he takes down a couple of cucumber plants, sending the fruit rolling. 

“What the fuck?” Asmodeus’ question hangs in the air as they all stare after the beast. 

“Oh thank god, it worked,” Abel says, and Lucifer rounds on them. 

“You didn’t know if it would work?” 

Abel looks too worn out to argue with him. “Nothing else was working, now, was it? And anyway, you should be thanking me. I saved your ass.” 

“Yeah, how did you do that?” Satan asks, raising his eyebrows, and for once, he and Lucifer are thinking the same thing. How did they get over to him fast enough, let alone even know that he had rolled poorly? 

Abel shrugs. “I was right next to him and I guess the angle was off or something. I don’t know, something in my gut just told me to move.” 

The explanation, as weak as it is, seems like the only one they can offer. Abel looks just as taken aback by the turn of events as everyone else. Before the conversation can continue, a familiar crashing becomes audible, and they all immediately jump into defensive positions. But when Cerberus appears again, he doesn’t go for the attack, merely dropping the toy at Abel’s feet with an expectant bark from the middle head.

“Stay back,” Lucifer warns, but Abel ignores him. 

“He’s not violent,” they dismiss. “I want to pet him.” 

“What?” Beelzebub yelps. “No way!” 

“ROLL FOR UH, ANIMAL HANDLING,” Barbatos says unsurely, and the D20 appears in front of them. They roll the die, gasping at the result. “Eighteen, and I have a plus one in animal handling.” 

“So nineteen,” Leviathan says, sounding completely shocked. 

“CERBERUS EAGERLY LEANS INTO YOUR TOUCH, COMPLETELY TAMED. IT SEEMS AS IF HE HAS CHOSEN ABEL AS HIS NEW MASTER.”

Abel grins as they reach up, stretching to rub the right head’s neck. Cerberus pants happily, tail wagging. 

“We… did it?” Belphegor questions. “Holy shit, we did it!” 

They spend a moment celebrating, which is quickly interrupted. 

“Uh, guys, still bleedin’ out here!” Mammon calls, and oh yeah, they’ve got to get him treated. 

*

Once Mammon is quickly and neatly bandaged up by the same barmaid that’d served them the night before (whose other job is apparently at the apothecary), they stake Cerberus up outside and meet back up with Shelley, who jumps up upon seeing them. 

“You did it!” 

“We did,” Lucifer confirms, and is quickly wrapped up in a friendly hug. Well, relatively friendly. He almost suffocates under her biceps. 

“Thank you so much,” she says, going around and shaking everyone’s hand. “As a token of my gratitude, please have this pouch of gold. It’s not much, and definitely not all that you deserve, but it’s what I have.” 

Mammon eagerly takes the pouch before Lucifer can decline, and the tavern shimmers around them. 

“CONGRATULATIONS FOR COMPLETING THE QUEST: CERBERUS AND DEFEATING THE BEAST,” Barbatos says, and a bright flash overtakes the room. When he can finally see again, Lucifer realizes he’s sprawled out on the floor of Leviathan’s floor, again with everyone else. This time, Barbatos is there too. 

“We made it back!” Belphegor exclaims, getting to his feet. 

“Thank fuck,” Satan exhales. “Leviathan if you don’t burn that stupid thing, I’m going to!” 

Leviathan pouts. “Aw, really? But I had fun.” 

“Destroy it,” Lucifer orders. “Or I’ll destroy you.” 

“I must be getting back to the castle,” Barbatos says stiffly as Beelzebub helps him up. “I have some choice words for Lord Diavolo I must share.” 

“Oh, believe me,” Lucifer says darkly, “you’re not alone in that. But first, I think I need a nice, long nap. How long has it been since we first were transported into the game?” 

Checking his PC screen, Leviathan makes a noise of surprise. “Only about five minutes!” 

“Yay!” Asmodeus declares. “I can still upload my post.” 

They all separate then, drifting off to recuperate and resettle on their own, as they tend to do. Lucifer finds himself alone in the hall with Abel, and before he can chicken out, he calls out their name. It’s best to get this over with now, rather than let it linger. Fester. 

“You shouldn’t have done that. Jumped in front of me.” 

They turn slowly, and that was not what Lucifer meant to say. He mean to thank them, to not be an asshole for once, but he’s learned that around Abel, his mouth moves on its own. 

“You were going to be seriously injured. Killed, probably.” 

“I had armor.” 

They scowl, looking past him. “We both know that would have done nothing. I saved you from dying. You should be grateful. Or what, is your pride too strong to let a human save you?” 

Their sneer nettles him. “That’s not it. You could have been killed!” 

It’s only when Abel’s silent that he realizes what he said. Heat fans over his cheeks, and he searches for a way to amend his words. 

“So, you do care,” they say carefully before he can speak. “And here I thought I was nothing but a nuisance to you.” 

“Nobody wants to see someone die in front of them.” It’s a deflection, and they both know it.“Thank you for, ah, saving me,” he tries. “And for your other contributions throughout that little… adventure.” 

“Oh!” They rock back, surprised. “Uh, yeah. I guess humans aren’t as weak and fragile as you thought, huh?” 

“Well, the jury’s still out on that,” he replies wryly, “but you definitely aren’t.” 

The conversation lulls there, and sensing it’s over, Abel goes to turn and continue down the hall. Unable to let that happen, Lucifer reached out and catches their sleeve. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “I just– Would you like to do something this week? Get to know one another better?” 

“Taken out of context it sounds like you’re asking me on a date,” they mutter, and Lucifer’s face flames even more. 

“I didn’t mean–” 

“I’d like that. Either way,” they say, beginning to make their way to their room. It takes Lucifer a second to get their meaning, but when he finally does, Abel’s already shut the door behind him. 

It takes him even longer to realize that he’s fine with–no, would prefer it–if it was a date.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own