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deanwritings · 2 years ago

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Safe Now

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: After a tough hunt, Dean is upset that the reader put her life in danger to save him.

Warnings: Smut (surprise!)

Word Count: 2,251

Gif:

A/N: Wow! First fic in 5 years. I’m definitely a little rusty but ready to get back into the swing of writing. Hope this was worth the wait.

Dean slams the door behind you as you both walk into the motel room, you a few steps ahead of him as you drop your battle duffle onto the floor with a thud.

The room is completely silent and you wince as you try to roll your jacket over your bruised shoulder. You were lucky it wasn’t dislocated, and you were even luckier you weren’t dead, but that didn’t stop Dean from giving you the silent treatment as he moved around you to unpack his weapons’ duffle, no doubt looking for a gun he could take apart and fiddle with while he continued to ignore you.

The ride back from the hunt was excruciating, and not just from the cuts and bruises you earned during this hunt. It was Dean’s seething silence that hurt the most.

It was a werewolf hunt that was suppose to be easy, and for all purposes except the slight hiccup at the end, it was. You didn’t normally accompany the brothers to the fights, your skills being much more useful on a laptop or when it came to interrogating the locals, but Sam was home with the flu, and even with your limited hunting skills, you figured taking you as backup was still safer than Dean going into battle alone.

For the most part, you stayed out of Dean’s way while he took on the pack of three alone, managing to fire off a few rounds of silver bullets to distract them if they were overwhelming Dean. But the problem arose when a fourth wolf that you hadn’t accounted for emerged from the shadows and lunged for Dean. You didn’t have time to think, let alone alert Dean to the surprise danger, so you did the only thing you could -- you tackled Dean out of the way, getting yourself thrown across the room and into a window in the process.

Your deflection gave Dean enough time to realize what happen and he was able to take out the final monster before running over to you as you struggled to push yourself up. You weren’t use to getting hit, let alone thrown through a window, and it had definitely knocked the wind out of you while also cutting you up in the process. Thankfully, none of the injuries required stitches or other medical attention, and with Dean’s help, you picked yourself up and you left the bloodied scene behind you.

You turn to face Dean who is sitting at the table, wiping down his machete, eyes completely focused on the blade.

“We gonna talk about this?” You cross your arms, wincing at the tight pull behind your shoulder blade.

Your boyfriend’s eyes glance up at you for just a moment before flicking back to the weapon in his hand and you take a deep breath.

“This is ridiculous.” You huff. “You’re pissed because I saved you? Really?” You ask incredulously. “Would you rather I let the werewolf blindside you?” Your eyebrows raise as you stare down Dean.

A beat of silence passes through the room before Dean finally sets the machete onto the table and adjusts in his seat, giving you his full attention. You see the scratches around his eye and dried blood on his forehead. There’s a cut across his cheek that looks fairly deep and could probably use some butterfly stitches and a deep clean once you two had a chance to talk.

“That’s exactly what you should have done.” His voice is low, his gaze finally meeting yours.

You laugh, thinking you’ve heard him wrong. But of course you didn’t hear him wrong. This was Dean Winchester, the most self-deprecating man on Earth. Chuck forbid someone looked out for him for once.

“I’m sorry, but you want me to just sit on the sidelines and watch you die?” Your voice suddenly raises, a mix of panic and anger rising like bile in your throat.

“I’d rather that then you get hurt because of me!” Dean suddenly stands, the chair he was sitting in teetering from the sudden movement. “I’d rather you didn’t die because of me, Y/N!” He takes a few steps towards you and you keep your shoulders square. He was loud, but you were stubborn, and you weren’t about to back down just because Dean was louder and bigger than you.

“Because I have no idea what the hell I’d do if I had to watch you die.” His voice lowers as he gets closer to you, and your chin begins to quiver at his confession.

It’s the same thing you fear every time he leaves the bunker for a hunt, or returns to a motel room torn up from the monster of the week. If Dean ever died, you’d have no idea what you’d do without him. And you couldn’t even bare the thought of having to watch him die. That would be a fate worse than death itself.

“And how come you get to die for me and I can’t die for you?” You whisper as he stops right in front of you. “Because let’s be real here Dean, if one of us had to survive, it has to be you.” A flash of pain shimmers in his green eyes as your words sink in. “You’re the one who saves people, you’re the one who stops apocalypses, I’m just along for the ride.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

It was a truth you had realized long ago, before you had even started dating Dean, and it was something you thought about every time you hopped in the Impala with the boys to take on the next case; that if it ever had to come down to you or Dean, Dean would have to be the one, every time. Same with Sam. The boys protected our world, and you’d be damned if you stood around and let them die just because you were scared. In the grand scheme of things, you were just a girlfriend, a gloried sidekick--not that the Winchesters would ever call you that--but you knew that when it came to the bigger picture, you were just a speck and the Winchesters were the sun and the stars.

“Don’t say that.” He whispered, his green eyes glossy. You know Dean’s self-loathing nature would never let him fully understand just how important he was, or how important his survival was. It broke your heart, but he needed to understand his importance, no matter the cost.

“Dean,” you take a deep breath, your voice soft but strong as you smile sadly up at him. “It’s true, whether you see it that way or not. It has to be you. Every time.” You swallow and take his hand in yours.

“Well that’s too damn bad because I won’t let you,” his voice cracks slightly as he takes in your words, his hands squeezing yours.

You laugh, humorless.

“Dean, I’m not planning on going anywhere. I’m actively trying not to die.” This earns you a green-eyed glance. “But if I do, you are not allowed to do anything to bring me back.” You shake your head, your voice lighter but the truth strong. “If you give your life to bring me back I will literally find the nearest bridge and will jump off of it just to spite you in the afterlife. So don’t even think about it.” That earns a silent chuckle from Dean as he looks away from you, shaking his head. Yes, your voice was light, but it was the truth. He was the world’s guardian, and you couldn’t let him do anything stupid just because he would be grieving.

He takes a deep breath and looks back to you before pulling you into his chest, his chin resting on your head as you relax into him.

“Besides, I’m safe now, so there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll be back behind my laptop screen soon enough.” His chest vibrates as he laughs and you smile against him.

A moment passes before he pushes you away slightly, just enough so he can look down at you with a soft smile on his face. You reach up on your toes and bring your lips to his, gentle at first until his hands reach up to cup your chin, deepening the kiss.

If there’s one thing you knew about Dean Winchester, he wasn’t a man of many words. But actions, that was his language, and you knew he needed to show you his relief and love now that you were both safe and your conversation behind you.

Dean’s tongue brushes against yours, your body pressing into his as you start to walk you backwards. With a practiced movement, you jump up and wrap your legs around Dean’s waist as his hands cup your ass. You lean your chest against him as your arms wrap around his neck, your kisses getting faster, needier.

Without breaking the kiss, Dean lowers you onto the bed and you release your legs from his waist, but keep your arms around his neck as you pull him down with you. Dean lowers his body over you, not putting his weight on you just yet as you break the kiss and start trailing your lips up and down his neck, stopping to suck on the skin under his ear as you feel his hips roll above you. You can’t help but smirk that even after all this time, you still have this effect on him with just a few lingering kisses.

He pulls away to look down at you, relief and lust in his eyes as he looks you over.

You raise your hands over your head, swallowing down the pain in your back, knowing if Dean sees you wince, he would stop the both of you, and you didn’t want that. You needed this as much as he did.

Dean immediately recognizes your action as your silent signal to start undressing you, and he carefully reaches down, his fingers brushing under your top and tickling your torso as he lifts your shirt up and pulls it over your head. His eyes shimmer as he stares at the sight your breasts, and you arch your back as he lowers himself over you, his hands reaching behind you before he starts fiddling with your bra hook as your lips find his neck again now that he’s so close.

The hook finally pops and you shimmy the straps down your shoulders as Dean pulls the fabric away, your breath hitching as the cool air hits your bare breasts. Dean smirks, a glint in his eye as he stares you down while his mouth wraps up around your right breast, your body buckling as his hand travels up your thigh before cupping your middle. You let out a groan, your body arching as his teeth graze your nipple, causing you to gasp suddenly as his hand tightens on your crouch in response. Your core clenches between the different pressures and you whine, “Dean” as you wiggle your hips, needing him to get your pants off so he can get closer.

His lips leave your breast and he chuckles as his hands come to your waist before he pops the button of your jeans. Without missing a beat, you lift your hips as he starts to tug the fabric down your legs until you’re left in nothing but your underwear. At the edge of the bed, Dean tears off his shirt and undoes the buckle to his pants, before stepping out of them, his erection obvious against his boxers. You smile at the sight, and your legs clench together with the anticipation of what’s to come.

“You just gonna stand there or what?” You tease as his eyes continue to roam over you. But with your words, he strides over to the bed and is suddenly hovering over you. He smirks down at you as his hands find the waist of your panties, and you moan as two of his fingers dip inside you.

Breathless sighs escape your lips as he continues to move within you, the pressure building. His mouth is suddenly on your left breast, his teeth biting down and rolling across your nipple as his fingers dance in a maddeningly uneven beat. Your body bucks as his speed picks up until suddenly your whole body is shuddering against Dean’s as your core tightens and implodes inside you.

You’re panting as your body begins to relax back into the bed, and when you open your eyes, Dean is smiling down at you, eyes shining as he admires his work.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Dean smirks and leans down to capture your lips. His fingers leave your panties, and this time, he pulls them down completely and tosses them across the room.

In a quick motion, he discards his boxers, his erection popping free and standing proudly in front of you.

“Ready, sweetheart?”

“Always, Dean.”

Dean lowers himself back to you slowly, lining himself up before pushing into you. You sigh in relief as he fills you, the aching pressure in your core replaced fully by him.

He begins to move in you slowly and purposefully. Back and forth, back and forth, hitting deep inside you as a slow burn resonates from within as you moan from the friction. You hear Dean’s voice catch in his throat, but you’re too lost in the feeling of him to fully notice.

His hand finds yours and you lock your fingers around his as he hits into you deliberately and deep, a welcomed change to your usually fast and dirty. But this isn’t about pleasure, not entirely. This is about love, about relief, about safety.

The knot inside you continues to grow as he hits as far back as he can go, your other hand digging into his back, needing a way to release some of the ache that builds inside of you.

You moan aloud, the burn becoming too much as your thighs tighten around his waist, holding him in place as you explode around him. Your walls are pulsating, your eyes rolling back, and he starts up his motion again, a feral sound leaving your lips as he continues to pump inside of you until you hear the sound of his pleasure as his body shudders and he releases inside of you.

Your heart is pounding against your chest, your hair stuck to your slick forehead as Dean’s weight collapses on top of you, his own body rising and falling as he attempts to catch his breath. You love the feeling of him on you after he cums. The weight of his world off of his shoulders, even just for a few minutes as he relaxes into you.

You place a hand on his cheek, under his cut that will need attention once you’re both ready to get up.

“I love you,” you whisper, the silence of the room now a welcomed friend among both of your heavy breathes.

Dean leans into your touch and places a kiss on your palm, everything that needed to be said laid out on the bed.

“Always gonna keep you safe, sweetheart.”

#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean reader insert #dean smut #dean winchester x reader #dean Winchester smut

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earnestly-endlessly · 4 years ago

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Hiii could you rec any fics where Erik or Charles or both are vampires and or werewolves?

Thank you so much dear lots of love

I'm so sorry for being so late with this, but in compensation I do have tons of fics that should quench your thirst for some vampire/werewolf cherik. Enjoy!

Vampire

And the Gunslinger Followed – musical_emjay

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hunts the things that go bump in the night.

He’s done so since he was a child, since the first time his mother put a knife in his hand and told him how to use it, told him why he should.

But ten years alone on the road has caught up to him, left him wrung out and longing for a place to rest, recharge, get his head back on straight. Though nowhere has ever truly felt like home, he heads straight for New York City, a place that’s always had more to offer him by way of warmth and comfort than any other. What he finds when he gets there, however, is several miles south of anything approaching restful. Old acquaintances, old memories, and a mysterious stranger who has him forgetting all his rules — Erik soon realizes there are decisions he needs to make, before circumstances intervene and make them for him. Otherwise, he might not like the result.

An Accident of Circumstance – manic_intent

Summary: Secret Santa, for azryal00, prompts: virginity, stalking or vampire AU. Decided to attempt all, in one fic. As part of a reward for his successes in border skirmishes, Sebastian Shaw allows Erik discretion to create a childe of his own, within reason. Erik rebels.

B-Negative – manic_intent

Summary: Written for the 5 Acts thing on livejournal, for toestastegood's 'Vampire AU' Act. This was originally going to be some sort of True Blood parody, but it somehow became a bit more serious. :/

Bloodbound – ikeracity

Summary: Finding himself strapped for cash at the start of his senior year, Erik decides to become a donor at TypO, a blood bar where vampires come to drink fresh blood from consenting donors, safely and legally. There, he catches the eye of Charles Xavier, vampire, telepath, professor at Columbia, and quite possibly the most alluring person Erik's ever met. Their first meeting sets into motion a bond much deeper than they can understand, one that neither of them had ever expected.

Old Metal (Blood, Memory and Rubber Ducks) – pprfaith

Summary: Erik is a vampire. Sookie, err, Charles is a telepath. Any questions?

Food Allergies – madneto

Summary: A bout of insomnia one fateful night leads Erik to Xavier's, the late night bookstore near Columbia University, whose owner Erik quickly decides is the best thing since... well, since maybe ever. Charles is brilliant, funny, passionate, handsome, and every other good adjective Erik can think of, and even though they've only been on three dates, Erik is convinced this is the start of something perfect.

Then Charles has a bad reaction to the food Erik cooks for them on their fourth date, leaving Erik to wonder if maybe he's completely botched his one chance at true love.

Series

The Price for Eternity – madneto

Summary: Erik and Charles are relaxing in the park when Erik decides to ask Charles a question that has long been on his mind, re: vampires. The answer is unexpected.

Series

The Boy with the Sigil Tattoo – keire_ke

Summary: Buffy AU. The story of a boy and his vampire.

Love and Other Secrets – Microsaur

Summary: Erik is a vampire that would much rather be left alone, Charles is a baronet that can't seem to accept that.

The First One – SassyDuckQueen

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a vampire living in a peaceful life in New York City, where he works as a night time security guard at the Pentagram. He's in a relationship with Charles Xavier, a young professor at a private university. However, his life is thrown upside down by the return of his wayward son, Peter, who informs him that an old enemy has resurfaced.

Series

Blood Bound – WaxRhapsodic

Summary: Charles is sick. Again. He decides to do something drastic about it and take a Blood Contract with a Vampire who turns out to be dangerously attractive.

Night Holds No Redemption – isabella

Summary: Vampire Hunters AU

When vampires roam the city at night there are also those who will hunt them down.

Charles Xavier and James “Logan” Howlett are vampire hunters part of the NIB – Night Investigation Bureau, in New York. When Erik, a vampire Charles failed to kill, comes back to haunt him Charles finds he no longer can run from his past and has to face the truth about the monster he created.

Pairing info: Flashbacks are Charles/Erik, present focuses first on the growing relationship between Logan/Charles, then on Charles/Erik.

Endgame will be Charles/Erik.

Night Life – Ook

Summary: he young journalist, or researcher, or whatever he is, is going to get himself in trouble around here. Erik can tell.

A researcher who doesn't know when to stop.

A man who doesn't take no for an answer.

A vampire that doesn't give interviews.

Werewolf

Dancing in the Rain – Pangea, velvetcadence

Summary: Werewolf alpha Erik found a human pup Charles alone in the forest and took him back to his lair. Erik protected and cared for the boy, though he was barely a mature wolf himself.

A few years passed, Charles grew up so pretty, and Erik was afraid he would miss his kind and go back to them, leaving Erik to be alone again - but Charles stayed and chose to be Erik’s mate.

Moon Song – ikeracity

Summary: Werewolf AU. When Charles is captured by hunters, Erik and his pack go after him. It turns out there might be some room for redemption left for both of them after all.

Loyalty and Obedience – Ook

Summary: A human rent boy working the streets gets rescued from a pimp by the Lehnsherr Pack Head and his Second on a recruitment trip. Werewolves, huh?

Who knows where this one's going?

Skin Deep – manic_intent

Summary: Written for the kmeme, Everyone-is-a-werewolf AU. Erik happens upon a seemingly abandoned mansion in Westchester during a full moon and finds an insanely clueless werewolf living in isolation.

In Escrow – manic_intent

Summary: Same 'verse as Skin Deep, between the final part and the epilogue. Charles abruptly realizes that he's unable to shift forms after a full moon. Which can only mean one thing.

Supernatural and the Scientist – Caradee

Summary: Charles Xavier is a upcoming geneticist and wildlife biologist who’s next big thesis reveals a little to much about the hidden werewolf community. Now Erik Lehnsehrr is suppose to figure out who it is feeding Xavier the information and put an end to it.

However, things are not what they appear.

Open Season – Caradee

Summary: Charles is a adorable omega wolf who has no sense for pack dynamics and wanders on his own. Erik is the exhausted Alpha of the pack who is unfortunately smitten with him. Its hunting season, nothing can go wrong. Right?

Only Hope – onaxe

Summary: According to werewolf law, an unwed Omega cannot legally hold custody of a child. When Charles is challenged for custody over his 17 year old sister, Raven, he desperately turns to the only solution available. He marries a complete stranger, Alpha Erik Lehnsherr, who is haunted by a mysterious past.

Note: Unfinished but a fun read.

Tooth and Nail – TurtleTotem

Summary: Erik is no longer part of Charles's pack. It's none of his business who he takes as a mate.

Vampires and Werewolves

For you, Eternity – gerec, lachatblanche

Summary: Erik still remembers the day he lost everything to a pack of werewolves; his family, his village, and the love of his life. Left with nothing but regret and pain everlasting, he turns to Sebastian Shaw - who promises revenge in exchange for loyalty eternal.

For centuries, he leads his clan of vampires in a war against their hated enemy, the same werewolf pack responsible for the slaughter of Erik’s village. But now Logan - the pack’s new leader - wants to make peace with their age old adversaries; an act that neither side particularly cares to pursue.

Adding to this volatile mix is one Charles Xavier, scientist and academic, drawn to the continent by his fascination for the supernatural and the locals’ tales of love, betrayal and never-ending war…

On the Scent – dedkake

Summary: The full moon is nearing and Charles decides to visit his neighbor.

Does not ebb – StarkMad

Summary: prompt: "...I would love a fic with Charles and Erik in an Underworld AU basically with Charles as Selene's character and Erik as Michael Corvin's character

and/ooor nonnie could do an Underworld: Rise of the Lycans and Charles as Sonja's character and Erik as Lucian (feel free and make me cry, dearest nonnie) feel free to do whatever you want as long as the AU still remains identifiable (and just kill me with tons of Chares and Erik drama and lurve and heartache and whatever.

Dear Neighbour Mine – issabella

Summary: Fill for the prompt by Lonelyparts: Charles is a telepathic werewolf living next door to a vampire who favours severe black turtlenecks and metal coffins.

Of course they have to annoy each other first, before dangerous circumstances bring them together.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #werewolf AU #vampire art #there are surprisingly more vampire fics out there than werewolf fics #thought it would be the other way round #asks #earnestly answers

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5am-the-foxing-hour · 6 years ago

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The Collector

I have no idea what this is... I just have to write this scenario out so i can forget about it.

Magic, Medieval, Fantasy au????

“Roman is sent on a quest to find the Dragon Prince and kill him to keep the kingdom peaceful.“

Characters: Sympathetic Deceit, Roman, Virgil, Patton, Logan

Warnings: uuuuuuuuuh... no idea....

General Fanfic Tag list: @ebony-wolf, @nashiraneko, @secretlyanxiouspersona, @i-sold-my-soul-to-thefandom, @rabbitsartcorner,@punsterterry, @sleepyssnail, @nightmaresides, @virgilswritings, @ninja-girl2846, @ninjago2020, @starryfirefliesbloggo, @grace–the-fangirl, @sympatheticdeceit

The magician laughed loudly and threw their head back as they down right cackled.

Roman, dressed in his royal attire and armour, gripped the handle of his sword harder as he glared at the villain.

Patton grabbed hold of the tattered and ragged hooded cloak Virgil always wore. Making the dark haired man turn his attention from the magician to Patton, giving the curly-haired man a small smile of comfort, they had known each other the longest out of the group, and despite ups and downs they would fight tooth and nail for each others safety, Patton held a wooden shield in his hand while Virgil held his daggers, that were glowing from his magic, making the thunderstorm spark and rumble in his eyes.

Logan, the groups scholar and ranger, had a tightness to his face as he studied the scene before him with a critical eye, finger holding an arrow at the ready, all he needed was to raise his bow for attack.

The newest member of the group was the one who looked most stressed about the encounter before them. his hair shifting between dark brown and blond depending on where the light fell on the fluffy curls. he also held his sword at the ready, thinner than Romans, as well as holding his hand that was glowing with yellow magic that had a more fog like characteristics to Virgil’s storm clouds.

“Princy, princy, princy, after all this time, we finally meet again” the magician said wiping away a stray tear from laughter. Roman grabbed his sword tighter, he had no recollection of this person.

“And you even used such an ugly and disgusting glamour on top of it.” the magician said in a more annoyed tone. making Roman blink and turn his head to where the magician was looking, which was right at Dee.

the others looked at Dee with a confused and questioning look, making the magician gasp before grinning with glee.

“You haven’t told them who you really are?” they laughed “this couldn't get any better.” the magician snickered and a dangerous grin spread on their lips.

“I demand to know what you’re talking about.” Roman ordered. getting the magicians attention.

“Oh, my precious prince, on a quest to find the Dragon Prince.” they sneered. “There is one one catch, you still haven’t found him have you?”

Roman scowled, not liking the fact that the magician was right. Missing how Dee looked at the magician with a panicked look on his face.

“Then, my dear prince, there is someone i’ve been dying to introduce you too!” the magician suddenly said with a sing song voice.

“Don’t you dare-” Dee started but was cut off as the Magician just smirked.

“Mage Dee, yes, it is he.” they started looking at Roman as they raised their staff making the magic shoot out of it and grab hold of Dee who was lifted from the ground, he dropped his sword and the magic died out from his hand as he struggled in the hold. “But not as you know him~” the magician looked at the others and smirked “Read my lips and come to grips with reality.”

The magic hold the magician had on Dee let go only for Dee to land hard on his feet.

“Yes, meet a blast from your past, whose lies were too good to last. Say hello to your precious Dragon Prince Deceit.” The magician made a swirl with their staff and Dee’s form shifted.

Gone were the look he had, replaced by the sight of yellowish scales coating his body, and the pair of big wings on his back along with the horns on his head.

Deceit looked down at himself, to the tattered clothes he wore, the shirt that had an open back for his wings. before he slowly looked up at the others who were staring at him with mixed emotions, Roman looked at him with scalding betrayal, and anger, strong enough to make his sword shake.

Virgil was staring at him with wide eyes, Logan looked like he’d been slapped and Patton, gods... Patton looked like someone had threatened to kick a puppy. and it was all because of him.

Deceit felt his heart twist painfully and he spread his wings to fly away, but he didn’t get that far as the magic from the magicians staff grabbed hold of him again this time tighter than before, only making him struggle harder.

“I’ve been looking for you, Dragon Prince. and I’m not gonna let you get away now when i have you.”

Deceit stiffened when everything seemed to grow bigger around him, before he realised, that so was not the case... he- he was shrinking?!

Deceit felt panic flare up when he realised just who this magician was, and his struggles grew more desperate, but it was already to late.

The Collector, already had him in their grasp.

“Now. this size fits you better.” the collector said with a snicker as they brought fourth a clear glass jar, having changed their grip on Deceit from holding his whole body to just holding his wings between their fingers.

Deceit paled when he saw the jar and tried to get away, his legs uselessly trying to find friction in the air. With a cackle the Collector dropped him into the jar and put on the cork lid before Deceit managed to fly out, only making him smack into the lid and crash back to the bottom of the jar.

The Collector lifted the jar to their face and grinned.

“You’re magic will be the most delicious~” just as they said that, their magic made the jar give away a small creak, and then pain shot through Deceit’s body, as his magic was sucked out of him. He desperately clawed at the glass, only ending up flaking his nails, before he fell over, no energy to keep himself up. he distantly heard the collector laugh, and with his remaining energy he sent a look towards the others to see their distorted reflections through the glass.

a bright flash suddenly grew outside the jar and he distantly heard a muffled roar, before his head fell to the glass with a thud, no energy to keep it up any longer. The jars had sucked the magic out of him, enough that he couldn’t break out on his own, but still leaving enough magic that he didn’t die.

The collector jumped out of the way of the dagger, that was thrown their way exploding out in a bolt of magical lighting, making the air thrum form the energy, before it fell to the ground with a splat.

This only made the collector laugh as they grabbed the jar with both hands and with a twist the jar shrank to the size of their thumb, shrinking Deceit with it. before they opened their coat and put it amongst the other jars that decorated the inside of the coat.

“I’d love to stick around and play with you all, but my allies call~” and with that the collector vanished in a puff of magic. only leaving their footsteps on the muddy ground.

rain started to fall as Virgil moved over to pick up his dagger, before moving over to where Deceit’s sword lied where it had fallen to the ground.

behind him Roman started to talk about how they never should have trusted Dee to begin with, which hastily became an argument between him, Logan and Patton.

Virgil put his dagger back in it’s sheet before he took Deceit’s sword with both hands looking down at the thin blade, a flash of lightning made him able to see his reflection better, and he furrowed his brows and scowled as he turned to face the others.

“We have to get him back.” he said. Roman looked like he was ready to argue, but Virgil cut him off before he could start. “Look, i trust him just as little as you do right now. But. No one deserves to be in the Collectors collection. Trust me on that.”

“And how exactly would you know?” Logan asked, with a tone that told he wanted to know more details.

Virgil sighed and cast a look to Patton who gave him a small smile and nod.

“Because.” Virgil said as he let his form shift. his cloak opened as a pair of black wings shifting in purple in the light of the thunder spread out from his back, and his legs grew longer along with his eyes that darkened until they were fully purple with a dark slitet pupil. “I was in one of those jars before Patton found me and got me out.”

#sanders sides #Janus #sympathetic deceit #patton #logan #roman #virgil #magic #fantasy #text #the fox writes

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doomedandstoned · 5 years ago

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THE DESERTFEST DIARIES: Destination Antwerp ‘19

~By Willem Verhappen~

Photographs by Stefanie Dörnbrack and Willem Verhappen

Day 1

The good beer, tasteful food and beautiful inner city, together with the fact that even though I live close to it, it makes me feel like I’m on vacation, make that Antwerp ranks high on my list of favorite cities. Every once in awhile my girlfriend and I like to spontaneously cross our southern border to go shopping (seriously, check out Chelsea Records if you're ever there) or watch a movie in their massive cinema complex. There is however one weekend when nothing can stop me from going to Antwerp and that's the weekend of Desertfest. For three days, Antwerp turns into the Mecca of all the music I -- and since you're reading this, probably you, too -- hold dear. So on the 18th of October I made my fourth pilgrimage to this epicenter of riffs.

My timing could hardly have been better, since my friends with whom I was going to share a hotel room for the next three nights showed up at pretty much the same time. After dropping our stuff at the hotel, we went downtown to meet up with some more friends and have a pizza and some beers.

With some proper groundwork laid, as we say in Dutch, it was time to head to the Trix, as the venue's called. There was some discussion as to whether it was faster to go by tram or subway, so we decided to turn it into a race. In the end, we still all ended up going by subway, since there didn't appear to be a tram going that way. I was told, however, that the subway was way quicker than the tram the guys took in previous years. That still counts as a victory in my eyes.

When we arrived at the venue, we were greeted by the sign shown at the top of this article. What a way to get your crowd hyped up for all the goodness that was to come.

The first band we got to see, was Monomyth. The band, featuring former Gorefest guitar player Boudewijn Bonebakker, plays an addictive mix of styles ranging from kraut- and space rock to more progressive and psychedelic exploits. The Dutch instrumental rockers might be reminiscent of acts like My Sleeping Karma, but with five people, there's never a boring moment.

After that first headbanging session, it was time for some more partying with desert rockers Nebula, where the title of their new album 'Holy Shit' sums up the experience quite well. This was followed by my first Duvel beer of the day and the Dutch '60s heavy psych inspired wolf pack named Temple Fang, both at the cafe. For a band that hasn't even released a single yet, they've got quite the following. Taking into account that two members used to be in the cult band Death Alley, gives some understanding as to why. Witnessing them live makes you a believer yourself.

As a music collector and lover of artwork, I decided to pay a visit to the merch area. I was very happy to see that my personal artwork favorites Branca Studio decided to take the car to bring some of their t-shirts to Desertfest. Now I finally have my very own "Doom life" shirt. Could my day get any better?

Of course it can! With some more cds and some less money in my pockets it was time to go to the main all for Truckfighters. When we walked through the door, one of my friends asked when the show had started. This was more than five minutes before the show actually started, but the hall was already crowded. This was the first time we had difficulties getting in before a band started playing, but it turned out to be only the first of multiple shows where this phenomenon occurred.

As you might know, Truckfighters was on a hiatus for a couple of years. Lucky for us, the Swedes have returned. I'm happy to say that the show hasn't really changed. You still get your high energy rock show lead by Ozo. Dango still runs through the crowd shirtless. There's still a different drummer than the last time you saw them. And of course, every place turns into absolute mayhem once they play Desert Cruiser. Honestly, the only thing that changed is Dango's beard. That's fine, but other than that, a Truckfighters show is perfect as it is.

Sadly, there wasn't much time to catch my breath, for after witnessing a bit of Beglian band 30,000 Monkies, Yatra was about to take the upstairs stage. I wasn't familiar with the Maryland doom crew, but someone (sorry, I don't remember who) recommended them to me. I cannot thank that person enough, for Yatra is by far my favorite discovery this Desertfest. It was the first doom band of the eveningThis trio spices up their low 'n' slow doom with a whiff of black metal dirt, just the way I like it.

Since I've never been much of a Zeal & Ardor fan, I decided to socialize and go looking for stories instead. That's when I ran into the Yatra gang, who were talking with Dango from Truckfighters. The latter mentioned to me that we can expect a solo record from his hand somewhere in the near future. Needless to say, this encounter needed to be documented, as shown in the picture above. Afterwards I decided to check out some Z&A, only to arrive when they started Devil is Fine. It was a good reminder of why I'm not a fan.

The first day ended with a banging show from Polish psych doomers Sunnata and a fun after party. I had to promise not to write about the after parties, even though I could write an entire article on just that. Let's just say that lots of fun and beer was had by all, up to the point where we were kicked out of the venue.

Day 2

Saturday started, not entirely unexpectedly, with a hangover. Usually I get over them pretty quick, but this one kept lingering on for quite some time. Not even the great sandwich I had, seemed to have any effect. The thing that eventually cured the hangover, was Bismut. The Desertfest website describes them as "instrumental psych desert metal", which is an apt description for these young Dutch hounds. We're treated to some heavy spaced out jams, mixed with some colorful shredding. Day two is a go!

The Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell put up one of my favorite shows this weekend. This is their second year in a row and third in total of playing here and if you've seen them live, you know why that is. The band are like the demented love child between MotÃ¶rhead and Hawkwind (like that would ever happen), blasting some dirty biker rock, but with some stoner groove in there. It's also the first band I witnessed on the Canyon stage that made full use of the video screen.

Not every band can be a winner and if there's a loser this weekend, it's Fireball Ministry. Personally, I really enjoyed their distinct brand of desert rock, featuring vocals from both guitarists James A. Rota II and Emily Burton. The only point of critique is that Emily should stick to background vocals.

Even though the band gave their everything, they we're playing to a half filled hall at most, with many people leaving after a song or two with some just taking a couple of pictures. These pictures were of course from former Kyuss bass player Scott Reeder. This behaviour made the band look more like a freak show than anything else, which is too bad, since Fireball Ministry deserves better.

The Desert stage is far more crowded for Church of Misery. I can't say I'm surprised, since the Japanese quartet knows how to deliver a solid slab of old school doom metal. For 50 minutes, the band proved to know exactly how to keep heads banging in unison.

Following Church of Misery, I decided it was time to give the muscles in my neck some rest. And what better place to do that than in the food and relax area. This is like the school yard where all the cool kids hang out, drink beer and smoke, but mixed with a food truck festival. I'm usually not big on festival food, but the food here is certainly an exception. From homemade fries and vegan burgers to Mexican and tribal food, there's something here for everyone. It's a great place to just sit down, eat and talk to random people.

This moment of peace was very much needed ahead of Bongripper. This was one of the most crowded shows of the festival. The band created a most impressive wall of sound, or should I say wall of noise, during their show. Although the show was very impressive, I'm still surprised by how insanely crowded it was.

After the intense show from the Chicago doom crew, desert rockers Steak are a welcome change of scenery. They might be from London, but these guys sound like they came straight from the California desert, although with some Pink Floyd thrown into the mix. I was very charmed by their sound, since it sounds familiar, but with a British twist. Highly enjoyable.

At the Desert stage, we remain in the instrumental musical spectrum with Pelican. This was one of the shows I looked forward to the most. The post-metal from these Americans manages to find that sweet spot between heavy dark riffs and a touch of light. The hour of playtime was over way too soon.

The other band I was really looking forward to, was Dopelord. I'm not sure what's happening in Poland that's causing the rise of so many good old school doom bands, as proven by Dopelord's recent excellent 4-way split with Weedpecker, Major Kong and Spaceslug, but it's clear these guys are leading the revolution. This show had everything I love: great songs, heavy riffs, exploitation cinema on the background and rowdy crowd. There even was a new song, called 'Hail Satan' and some moshing during the epic 'Reptile Sun'.

On my way to Ty Segall & The Freedom Band, I heard some music coming from the Vulture stage that caught my attention. Crowhurst was supposed to be performing here, but they had to cancel last minute. Their replacement were the Antwerp locals Your Highness.

Earlier that day, I was told they were a doom band and that I would like them. That turned out to be very true. The band plays traditional doom metal, but with a hardcore ferocity. I clearly wasn't the only one who enjoyed their show, judging by some of the most intense mosh pits I'd seen all weekend. I was so entertained that, for the first time in four years, I missed a Desertfest headliner. Not that I mind, these guys are worth it.

There's no rest for the wicked and Inter Arma made sure of that. The death/black.sludge doom band pretty much set the Canyon stage ablaze. It was past midnight but that was no excuse to take it slow. Vocalist Mike Paparo was running the stage like a ravenous beast. The band was a great warm-up for yet another night of mad partying.

Day 3

Usually the last day of a festival is somewhat of a cooling down. Festival days are long days and involve lots of walking and a lot of things to take in, resulting in you being exhausted, both physically and mentally. For this Desertfest, being tired was not an option, since the lineup is nothing but spectacular. Luckily for me, I woke up relatively fresh. I still don't know how I pulled that off, but I'm not complaining.

Since not everyone was as awake as I was, the first band we got to see was Wolvennest. I've seen the band perform many times in the past four years or so and I've yet to grow tired of their music. Their excellent mix of black metal, doom, psychedelic and krautrock still entrances me every show. And every show, they seem to get better. At least it helped me clear my mind in preparation for the rest of the day.

Wolvennest may have brought me to a higher plain, but after that it's a slap back to reality, courtesy of The Progerians. Their sludge mimics their hometown of Brussels. It's dark and nasty, but with just enough melody to make it appeal to the masses. This makes it a good warming up for the impressive set from Lord Dying, although they look towards more progressive and psychedelic horizons.

Monkey3 is one of those bands that always manage to deliver. Their instrumental space rock usually attracts quite the crowd and that was no different here. Sadly, nature called, resulting in me not being able to get back to the Desert stage. On the other hand, I did get to see High Reeper. These guys manage to play an energetic, balanced mix of stoner rock and Sabbath-y doom metal. A perfect blend of old school and new school.

The NOLA sludge kickers of Eyehategod are on a roll today. The band is clearly in a good mood and frontman Mike IX Williams is playing the crowd like a fiddle. The crowd, on their turn, is eating the slow, nasty blues raw. This was without a doubt my favorite show of the day.

After EHG I'm in doubt, stay where I am and be assured of a good spot for tonight's headliner, or go and see Un. I decide on the latter, even though many people seem to be saving their spots. I don't regret it though, since the Seattle band delivers some beautiful, heavy funeral doom. Especially fellow Seattle natives Bell Witch come to mind while riding Un's emotional roller coaster.

When I got back to the Desert stage, some 20 minutes before showtime, I was happy to see that it wasn't as crowded as I'd expected. I managed to get a nice spot in the center of the hall before the countdown started for the band all of Desertfest was clearly waiting for.

At a quarter to 11, the famous audio recording leading up to the moon landing started playing. What happened next felt like a ritual. Joints were lit across the audience, with some also being passed along through the crowd. People moved towards the stage like Muslims to the Ka'aba.

At 11, the almighty Sleep took the stage. Even though it was my fourth time seeing them in 15 months, the band still manages to impress me. All through the weekend, bands have been projecting everything from band logos to movies on the backdrop, but not Sleep.

Sleep doesn't need a backdrop. Nor a dynamic light show, for that matter. Sleep is all about the music. And the music is all that matters. Witnessing a Sleep show is like witnessing a voodoo ritual. The band's goal is to get you in a trance, to get you to follow the smoke to the riff filled land. For 75 minutes the music is all that matters.

Black Pyramid holds the thankless honour to close off the festival after Sleep. Their psychedelic brand of metal sounds good, but honestly, Sleep is still stuck in my head. Judging from the size of the crowd, many people have decided to head home early, but not us. We stayed until the bitter end.

On monday morning, to my great joy, the headache remained absent and I was feeling relatively fresh. I was looking forward to my own shower and couch, not necessarily in that order, so I was packed and ready to go in no time. My friends had some more difficulties to get their motor running, so we ended up getting brunch at one of the countless Panos sandwich bars in the city. Of course, we ran into some familiar faces there. Going over the weekend, we could all agree it was a festival with many highlights and next to no low points. Another one for the books. Why can't all festivals be like Desertfest? I'm not being melancholic, I'm seriously asking.

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sepiadice · 5 years ago

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DiceJar Campaign 0.1: A Slippery Slope (2020/01/03)

So I return to the mighty throne of the GM Screen! To pull the strings, interpret the weavings of fate, mold the world to my whims and desires!

However, I’m going from a module, namely Crypt of the Everflame, made famous by Trix’s adventures. So I’m treading old ground, though with fewer players, and only one returning from that adventure. The better part of a decade has passed since I played it, so plenty of details should’ve left the veterans.

The reason I’m playing out of the module is as a sort of learning experience: Viewing box text and published adventure design so that it may help develop my original adventures. As for why I chose this one: I really like the opening premise. New young adventures thrown together deliberately for their origin story. Often players get focused on making an exciting backstory that they forget to make what happens at the table be the most interesting part of their life. I think it’s charming.

It’s an element/theme I want to incorporate in future campaigns.

Anyways, how will the tomb dive go without Team Pesto?

Cast

Mogui (IndigoDie): A Hedge Mage for a Lord Grey. Essentially a living lawn ornament. He helps take care of the Lord’s menagerie. Sole repeat player of the Module.

Bernard ‘Bean’ Dipp (NavyDie): Still just a child, but his father is (supposedly) suffering polio, so young Bean needs to become the man of the house. GM of the campaign I just finished. Revenge time?

Yot (LimeDie): A traveling mercenary slash adventurer nevertheless being pulled into things because some players struggle with direction. Player is a vetran of an Improv club Navy and I were also members of.

Delilah Dunford (VermilionDie): The unruly daughter of the local snobby nobles. Roguish interests and talents. Player is also from my high school days, but not the High School game group.

Game Master (SepiaDie/Me): Everyone and thing else. Nervous wreck caught in his own head. Attended a High School once and participated in a college Improv Club.

Session One

I failed to change any proper nouns like I wanted, but I also avoided needing to say anyone’s names, so there’s still time.

There’s an immense backstory I summarized, because it was too long for me to read out and I can’t trust players to read.[1] Kassen is a town that evolved out of a hold built by a guy named Kassen, a soldier turned adventurer. One day, he went to fight an evil band of… bad people. Kassen succeeded, but succumbed to injuries taken. He was entombed in a crypt, where an eternal flame was lit. Every year, the mayor rides out to bring back a lantern lit by the flame to bless the town to survive the winter. Every couple of years, town youths are sent instead as a rite of passage.

This is one of the rite of passage years.

The mayor first meets with Mogui, a lonely mage working for one of the town’s two noble families. The mayor awkwardly stumbles through his invitation, which Mogui gladly accepts.

Next, the Mayor finds Bean waiting in the market square. The mayor, again, stumbles through his invitation, which Bean seems rather confused by the semantics of, needing to be specifically told not to just wait in the town center for two days but to come back on the actual day of departure.

Yot is found in a tavern, and attempts to talk a big game as the Mayor asks him to join the adventuring party. I still need to force a firmer connection between Yot and the town of Kassen, as my original plan of Yot belonging to what once was Kassen’s band of mercenaries was sunk before I could work it in.

Delilah pops up from behind the Mayor as he’s on his way to her family’s manor, and she eagerly joins the quest.[2]

Thus is our party arranged!

Two days later, at the predetermined time, they walk into the market square and I gently prompt them to give physical descriptions of their characters. Delilah is described as having slightly asymmetrical dark hair, while the rest focused more on height and relative ages.[4]

Mogui arrives with some sort of bipedal creature. Indigo didn’t actually know what he intended the creature to be, so I’m going to assume it’s a chocobo until gently corrected.[5] Everyone promptly forgot about it, even though it supposedly was following them.

The four mingle for a bit as I lost focus trying to recenter myself and review the next step. I tend to let my players just fill time until they get bored of their scene. I probably should work on keeping a good pace with the plot, but I also don’t want to step on their fun. It’s a difficult balance, especially if there’s no NPC handy to gently snark at them to move forward.

The bells of the Church of Polyhymnia[6] ring in the noontime.

The townspeople, dressed in blacks and other dark clothing, start to form a crowd around our adventurers. The mayor emerges with an old pony pulling a cart of supplies. He distributes backpacks to the adventurers, gives a prepared speech,[8] and sends our young heroes on their way.

Mixed into their supplies is a fourth of a map that, at an actual table, is supposed to be a real piece of paper torn and distributed to the players. Since we’re not in the same room and split between two states, I instead alluded to the paper in their bag for them to ask about, while also prepared to gently drop the detail if the players don’t engage. Pivot and roll!

Initially the torn map pieces are overlooked, and the party walks south, into the Fangwoods, following a trail that starts well-worn, but progressively fades.

A few hours into their hike, they come upon a fallen tree. Three orcs emerge from behind it, and initiative is rolled.

I overlooked a mechanic I was supposed to employ, a problem I had throughout the session. The module imbedded vital instructions mid-paragraph in the description, which means I overlooked having the players roll to disbelieve when they land hits or are hit. I did read the module in advance, though, but it’s easy to forget the details, especially details hidden away like that.

I’m a terrible note taker. In school, if I was taking notes, then I wasn’t paying attention to the lesson because I was focused on writing. This also made me a terrible stage manager. Half the reason behind these write-ups is to get the information down and in circulation in my memory because I’m not able to mid-session.

What I should be doing is reading (or writing) the module, and making a bullet point list of the bare mechanics. I sometimes do similar when trying to learn new systems.[9]

Delilah climbs into a tree to shoot arrows at one of the three Orcs, the other three taking the ground battle.

The orcs are quickly defeated, their corpses fading away. What a curious event that I’m sure has no explanation to be uncovered in the future. An utter curiosity.

At this point, the party finally pauses to ask if they know where they’re going.

Ah, time for pay off.

At this point, I describe how they’d been following a shrinking trail, but soon they won’t have it to rely on.

I’m asked to post the list of supplies to the text chat for them to pour over. A careful edit of the description of the map is needed, and I do so.

The party discusses the supplies shortly, and someone looks at their part of the map. I tell them it appears to be a fourth of a map.

NavyDie shrewdly asks if they’re all the same fourth of a map. He likely learned from the time I gave my players descriptions of dreams then later threw some wood blocks at them not to take paper for granted.[10]

I confirm that they each have a different fourth of the same map. So they jigsaw puzzle it, and Mending is cast. Now they have a single map, and a burned spell slot![12]

They follow their map for the remainder of the day. The sun began to set, and the party needed to make camp.

When the opportunity arises, players will want to roll dice, because rolling dice feels good,. So everyone rolled for the survival check meant for one.

Bean, our ranger, was the only one who failed. I punished him by having him punch a hole in his tent. Everyone goes to bed, though Yot elects to take watch for a few hours, with no intention of waking anyone to take a shift after him. He chose enough time, and made the proper check, to spot a wolf investigating the border of the campsite before slinking off.

Yot decides to increase the length of his watch a little longer. So he was still awake when the wolf returned with three friends.

New combat! Yot shouts to rouse his allies, succeeding in waking Bean and Mogui, who come out of their tents to assist. No one thinks to go wake up Delilah, so she gets to sit out of this combat.

A few rounds occur, with the lead wolf eventually knocking Yot down and mauling him a tad. Mogui uses magic to scare off the other two, but lead wolf stays intent on his objective:[13] food.

The wolf makes his way into the camp, takes a mouthful of food, and skedaddles. I declare the end of combat. Bean buries the remainder of the food,[14] and everyone goes back to sleep.

With the morning arrival, and the completion of a long rest, the journey to Kassen’s Crypt continues.

The map leads them to the shore of a large lake on a misty morning, the grey skies and fog obscuring the horizon. A bandit lays dead on the beach. Our protagonists investigate the body, and find signs of an attack by a massive serpent. The body also has a sword and a wallet of gold on him, but they are left as the body is entombed into a shallow, sandy grave.

Travel continues, and they crest a small hill overlooking a serpentine valley, within which rests Kassen’s Tomb.

This then proceeds into my second big mistake: I overlooked the acrobatics check hidden with the descriptions and had my players roll directly on the failure table. Again, the table carefully set apart drew my eye. I’m learning! Poorly!

Still, someone ran into three different trees on the way down, so at least it was amusing, if unnecessarily punishing. I’ll quietly retcon away any damage taken in apology at start of next session.

Down the overly slippery hill, a small stable’s worth of dead mounts await: two horses and three ponies, the horses long dead, the ponies a little more recent. None the same day our party arrived, however.

A description of a fancy rune in the doorway’s keystone is given, and the session ends, exploration of the dungeon saved for the next session a fortnight later.

As usual, the session was characterized with me being stressed over keeping it running and attempting to follow the script of the module. The few times I’ve managed successive sessions has hinted that I’m able to settle in as things go on and the players figure out the table dynamic. I’m mostly confident I’ll figure it out.

While I am learning the value of boxtexts,[15] modules still invoke a sense of containment on me. A fear that if I, as a GM, stray too far, I’ll accidentally break something. I don’t enjoy scripts, that’s why I did improv. Scripts means you can make mistakes that need course correction.

But I’m playing with friends, we’re learning to be a cohesive performance troupe, and hopefully this will turn into a podcast. For the future.

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.

[1] I’ll grant them the benefit of the doubt that they’re literate. [2] I’m seeing a combined Trix and the Sorceress[3] from her party. I’m going to have fun with that. [3] Indigo says her name was Makenna. [4] Which will make the process of creating sprite pawns for them slightly more difficult. I’ll ask them on the discord for physical appearances when I’m done writing this. [5] Were it not bipedal, I might’ve steered him into making it into a riding jackalope. They’re… kinda my pet fantastic beast. Usually ridden by mail carriers. [6] Originally the Church of a Pathfinder Deity, but I’m transplanting the module into D&D Fifth Edition anyways, so might as well sneak the details of my setting[7] into the margins. Helps everyone’s already just human. [7] Is this canon with the abandoned Genesys campaign? You decide! [8] When I have something to read, the mayor loses the stammering and uncertainty he has when I’m doing it off the cuff. This is because I’m not awkwardly trying to do things off the cuff. [9] I should have a file that’s basically Maid RPG Lite floating around due this same habit. [10] The one time I planned for my players to ‘cheat’ and show each other the notes I gave them, and the clowns kept the notes to themselves. You literally cannot rely on anyone to do anything like they should.[11] [11] I’d say you can trust players to make things harder for themselves, but return to footnote 10. [12] When I played through this module, I arrived after the mayor distributed the backpacks, and the party already had investigated their maps. So I don’t know how this puzzle was solved then. I also don’t remember the Orc encounter. [13] Behind the screen fun: while I rolled three times fairly, I applied the single success to who I wanted. For narrative reasons. I often play favorites in this manner. [14] Sure. [15] Along with listening to Dice Friends streams/podcast.

#SepiaDieGMs #crypt of the everflame #Dungeons and Dragons #Fifth Edition #NavyDice #IndigoDice #LimeDice #VermillionDice

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orlandri-tl · 7 years ago

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[Sukamoka Vol. 1] Chapter 2 Part 2: The Winged Guard’s 5th Division

Feodor Jessman disliked his appearance.

His wavy and dull silver colored hair was difficult to comb. His deep purple eyes glittered with natural menace, and had to be hidden by black-rimmed fake glasses. As expected of an Imp, his unblemished skin was pale white.

He had no horns, fangs, or scales – the clear, unavoidable appearance of a markless.

A hated kind, the markless whose numbers included Feodor were looked down upon by most of Regul Aire’s inhabitants. The whole bunch were rotten to the core, and Feodor had on several occasions mused to himself half-seriously that it’d be considered a favor to the world if every last one of them were to disappear.

Like many of those living in the cramped environment of Regal Aire, Feodor’s own race was mixed. His father’s great grandmother was a troll, and far up his mother’s side were ancestors who had been fox-beastmen. However, Feodor’s blood didn’t appear to have done anything for him; his appearance and traits, like the majority of the Jessman family, were that of a typical Imp.

The Imps were a subspecies of Ogres, the descendants of a demonic race that arose within Emnetwyte civilization long ago. Lurking in the shadows of the Emnetwyte, they had lived a most misguided existence, leading individuals towards debauchery and ruin with their cursed eyes and dark whispers.

The Emnetwyte were long extinct now. For no apparent reason, their shadows lived on.

Imp eyes were once said to hold an outrageous power capable of confusing and manipulating others. When their activity was at its height, one great individual supposedly drowned a small country in revelry and depravity with their eyes alone. However, through the passage of time and mixing of species, the Imps no longer possessed such splendid power. They were now just another typical markless race, perhaps slightly better with words and lies than most.

Feodor Jessman was but one of the many sorry descendants produced by that pitiful race.

Boom! An explosion-like sound rang out. Slamming his feet into the bronze-paneled floor, the wolf-headed beastman launched into the air. He violently twisted his large body forward and swung his arm down. The mass of conditioned muscle arced, whiplike, and down from the sky came roaring a mighty punch that could split someone from skull to groin.

It was a cleanly executed fist technique with graceful form in every seemingly-brash movement. One might call it refined brute force; believing in one’s strength, obeying that strength, and ultimately relying on it. The idea was to entrust everything to one’s own muscles and power, one’s greatest weapon. It was a state only attainable through solely pursuing the concept of “crushing,” something that the beast races born with “rending” claws could not easily reach.

Well, I doubt I can stop that.

His opponent was just too ridiculously strong. Even if he were to try and push that incoming arm, its trajectory likely wouldn’t budge an inch. He could go for a leg sweep, but the foot his opponent pivoted on was currently midair. Before any of that, considering his opponent’s momentum, it was obvious that he would be sent flying no matter where he made contact.

He dropped into a low crouch, his right hand hidden in the shadow of his body. The beastman’s eyes reflexively darted there as Feodor shifted his center of mass onto his left foot, then made a sharp sliding motion with his still-hidden hand. The almost magician-like flourish imitated the moves of a dagger-wielder; it hid the user’s intent, the blade’s shape, and all other information from the enemy until it struck.

If one thought it through, of course, that was an impossible scenario. They were in a training arena, sparring with bare hands. There was no way for a fighter to bring in a real weapon. Still, the beastman flinched, his inborn instincts and hard-won warrior experience instantly perceiving the most dangerous attack Feodor’s actions could result in, and he twisted his body to avoid a fatal blow. His head – having eyes, nose, and ears, all areas impossible to toughen no matter how strong one might be, all weak points through which his skull could be pierced – jerked back and out of the way of any angle Feodor’s attack might come from.

The graceful sequence of movements faltered, a fatal error introduced into it.

No matter how rapidly a top spins, it will lose control and motion if its axis is shifted. Every ounce of momentum that had served to support the beastman’s landing instead became exhausted by his hasty dodge. By the time the first inklings of regret surfaced in the beastman’s eyes, everything was over.

Bam! Wham! Whaaam!

The beastman tumbled, flipped upwards, and rolled through two nearby sparring soldiers, sounding much like someone pulverizing a barrel with an axe, until he came to a stop against the wall.

A few seconds passed as everyone present turned their eyes to the fallen beastman, their own matches long forgotten. An uneasy silence filled the training field.

“...Gahahahaha! Oh, that was great stuff. You’re good, you know!”

The beastman raised his head good-naturedly. “To think you got the better of me with that sneaky trick of yours! If it weren’t for that little counter move, I would’ve pummeled you flat!”

Feodor shook his empty hands. Of course, he wasn’t holding any real dagger. He had merely made a suggestive movement in front of a master, which had caused his opponent to reflexively dodge and lose balance.

One by one, the questions rose among the people surrounding them: What happens now? Why is this giant beastman so happily declaring his defeat? Only the two involved could understand the situation.

Feodor fixed his misaligned glasses back into position. “Your assessment boosts my confidence, Portrick.” He went over to the toppled beastman, took his extended arm with his own hand, and pulled him up with all his strength. “Though, you don’t need to praise me. After all, I cheated rather than used my own power. It’s something that could only work against an overly strong person like you.”

Imps were a deceitful race. The affinity for deceiving others was rooted within his species. It was only natural that the methods of his fighting style would reflect that wicked nature.

"What strange humility! Still, that’s not a bad way to put it.” Portrick slapped Feodor’s shoulder with explosive bams until it hurt. His words aside, his body language was like that of a pleasant old man towards the neighborhood troublemaker. A lycanthropos known in the division as “Bruiser,” Private First Class Portrick was the strongest, perhaps the second strongest, of the soldiers belonging to the Winged Guard’s 5th Division.

"It hurts."

"Ah, my bad." He withdrew his hand with a half-baked apology, laughing heartily.

Just then, the flighty voice of Private First Class Nax came floating in from a nearby doorway. “Oh, hey – hey, Fourth Officer Jessman. The Division Chief’s calling for ya. Didya get up to anything you shouldn’t have?”

"Hmm? The First Officer wants to see me?”

I wonder what it is.

Feodor wasn’t sure why he was being summoned. As Fourth Officer, he had irreproachable conduct and was an exemplary soldier. His actual personality and behavior aside, he should at least have that much of a general record.

On the other hand, if any of his past misdeeds turned up in his records… That would be unpleasant. But if he was summoned for that reason, there would’ve been some forewarning. Probably.

"Could it be? A talk about promotion?"

Feodor vaguely smiled at Portrick’s wildly positive guess. “If that's the case, I'll be happy.”

As he started towards the corridor that went to the general headquarters, his thoughts went back to the earlier physical training.

How idiotic.

In the first place, the army was formed to battle the 17 Beasts, destruction itself given form. All it took was witnessing the Beasts for one to lose the will to live. Punching or kicking them was unlikely to be of much use.

Our training is meaningless. It's nothing more than the excuse that ‘we’re doing as much as we can’. Supposedly it’s intended to keep us ready to go, but it just exposes how much we’ve become complacent in peace.

“Absolutely idiotic.”

After making sure nobody else was in the corridor to hear him, Feodor vented.

The Winged Guard was the sword and shield of Regul Aire. For better or worse, that was what their entire existence hinged on; their greatest strength and weakness.

To begin with, Regul Aire was not a monolith. Countless races called it home, numerous communities flourished within it, and endlessly differing values clashed. No single system of morality, no single definition of good and evil intentions, could be shared by all who dwelt upon the floating islands.

And this unnatural state of existence was born of the Winged Guard’s creation.

Roughly four hundred years ago, a Teimerre had drifted up from the gray plains below and come to rest onto the 27th Floating Island. Because of the great threat to all other islands presented by the Teimerre, it was then suggested that all those who inhabited the islands should band together to battle it.

What had happened next could only be called comedy.

First, goodwill groups obstructed military operations one by one, insisting that attempts at communicating with the Beast should be made.

Next, a fleet was unable to even leave its port because it was swarmed by civilians demanding that they should also be allowed to fight.

Another incident came about when soldiers were detained and prevented from fighting by groups who waxed philosophically on the evil of life-or-death battles.

Again and again, emergent governments competing among themselves subverted one another’s plans of attack. An army appeared one day, pretending to work in concert with the Beast. Conspiracies that the Beast’s entire invasion was nothing but a false flag were thrown around. The value of the silver coin was rewritten almost every day, certain people becoming extremely rich while others lost out. Groups that were disliked from the start were blamed for the arrival of the Beast and wiped out one after another.

Around that time had been the birth of the “Heaven’s Arrival” cult, who claimed, among other things: The Beast is a messenger of death sent by the Visitors; for those of us who dwell in sin, we must accept our deaths joyfully and without resistance... The cultists, believing in their righteousness that everybody should be sacrificed to the Beast, worked in unyielding conviction towards their goals.

Throughout all this time, though not a single ship reached the 27th Floating Island and not a single shell was fired at the Beast, dozens of airships crashed and tens of thousands of lives were lost.

A decade or so after the disaster, the Winged Guard was established.

Regardless of what those on the islands might believe, the Winged Guard existed only to protect Regul Aire, obeying the Constitution of Regul Aire alone and disregarding any other laws or customs. It was only dispatched to go against confirmed invasions of the Beasts and defeat them. Furthermore, any military power aside from the Winged Guard was strictly prohibited from participating in these battles. By single-handedly assuming the responsibility to deal with internal and external threats, further problems were therefore prevented from occurring.

The Winged Guard was founded under that principle, and uphold it to this day.

"Of course, I don't intend to talk about any minor wrongdoings,” the First Officer said. The smoke from his cigarette wafted through the general headquarters office of the Winged Guard’s 5th Division. "Though, I suppose something like, say... a military officer slipping out a hole in the chain-link fence to buy and eat donuts... would go against regulations."

Feodor winced. That’s one crime exposed.

"If you do sneak out and buy something, you should get something forbidden like alcohol. That way you’d gain prestige even if it was found out, right?”

No, wait a minute, what’s he going on about now?

"Ah, well,” the Armado sighed. “Now, about what I actually called you in here to talk about..."

"...what you said just now wasn't the main topic?"

"Nope, just a little chitchat. There’s a matter I want to put you in charge of.”

Among the military officers belonging to the 5th Division, Feodor was particularly outstanding. Individual martial arts, knowledge of tactics through the ages, battlefield artillery operations… he was more proficient than anyone else in pretty much in every skill required for military officers. That was why, despite being an Imp with poor physique, he’d been able to rise up to the position of a ranking officer.

If there was any obstacle to his success, it would be that he was still quite young and hadn’t yet been blessed with the opportunity to distinguish himself in actual combat. That was a problem that would in time be resolved, however. There were whispers that he’d soon be charging up the ranks to 3rd and 2nd – and he intended to do just that.

The First Officer nominating him for the upcoming duty meant it should be an opportunity to rack up achievements. It seemed like a good chance.

"I'm glad to receive your assessment, but it's a bit intimidating to be selected as the person in charge,” Feodor said. “Have we even discovered the plans those Heaven’s Arrival fanatics have in mind for causing mass destruction?”

"No, but fortunately that won't be your mission. It's a bit more of the peaceful variety."

Huh? That was strange. If it was that kind of thing, it didn’t seem like Feodor’s talents would be needed.

"I understand what you want to say, but I'm certain that you’re the most qualified individual." Finished speaking, the First Officer glanced at the wall clock tiredly. "They're late."

"Sir?"

"Your duty will be the supervision of four first-class equivalent soldiers dispatched from the 11th Floating Island by the Winged Guard’s 2nd Division.”

"...Huh." The First Officer was moving at his own pace, forcing Feodor to rapidly digest what he was saying in order to keep up with the conversation. Because of that, his responses were delayed. “They’re equivalent soldiers?”

Although the term was unfamiliar to him, he had memorized the Winged Guard’s military regulations, and thought he recalled a description about such a rank.

As it went, the rank of “equivalent soldier” was special, temporarily issued when it became necessary for someone to have the same authority as a regular soldier over a period of time. By itself, it seemed like a convenient framework; scattered among the various races of Regul Aire were individuals whose raw strength equalled a trained soldier, and to obtain their cooperation without creating confusion in the chain of command was attractive.

In reality, however, it was impossible to put into action and had never been done before.

That was because the requirements were strict to the point of being unrealistic – specifically, a line stated ‘The signatures of three ranking officials of first rank or higher are required’. The Winged Guard currently possessed within its ranks thirteen First Officers and 16 First Technicians, and above them only seven generals. Obtaining approval from three of those thirty-six people was a request on the same level of uniting the entire army in agreement. Consequently, it was pretty much impossible to utilize in response to the immediate needs of a combat site.

If you wanted to treat an ordinary civilian as a soldier, it was much quicker to give them an actual military title rather than the troublesome position of equivalent soldier. As a matter of fact, there were positions such an event: purely decorational officer ranks like that of Third Patrol Officer and Second Enchanted Weapons Technician, for example. The fact that someone on the 11th Floating Island didn’t do just that meant that there was some reason to not do so. In other words…

“Infamous criminals, I'm guessing..?”

As he muttered, the thought seemed plausible. They need to be used as military personnel, but can’t actually be given military status. If there’s some politically delicate situation, it makes sense to jump through all those hoops.

He sketched out his mental picture of one possible first-class equivalent soldier. The fierce, hardened criminal is known to everyone on the 11th Island. His physique is the same as or larger than Private First Class Portrick. Perhaps he could be a member of the Giant tribe. His hands dyed red from the countless people he murdered, his prominent blood vessels pulsing along his bald head, his eyes constantly bloodshot, his mouth distorted into a heinous grin.

I understand. I definitely wouldn’t give somebody like him a regular military rank. The decision to treat him as an equivalent soldier is understandable.

The Armado nodded, as if he had read Feodor’s mind. “If nothing else, they’re certainly a troublesome group to deal with.”

“But why now?” Feodor questioned. “We still have time before the day comes to make an attack on the Croyance, but there’s not much time left either. The 5th Division already has its hands full.”

"That's true."

"Right. Which means there’s no time to deal with some outsiders who have their own problems–”

"That's why I asked for you."

"...What does that mean, if I may ask?"

Knock-knock-knock.

A steady tapping came from the door of the general headquarters. A young woman’s voice, sounding very much lost, spoke. “Um, sorry for being late. We’ve arrived.”

"Please come in," the First Officer said.

"Excuse me…"

The knob turned. The door slowly opened–

"Sorry to keep you waiting!”

The door vigorously banged open and a girl with orange hair came tumbling forward into the room, accompanied by a slight shriek. She had probably been the one knocking.

A girl around the same age with cherry blossom-colored hair energetically strode into the room next. "Is this the general headquarters?"

She was followed by a quieter young girl with purple hair, who bowed. “Pardon the disruption.”

All three of them possessed no fangs, horns, or any other extraneous features. They were markless.

Feodor was silent for a long second, then looked back over his shoulder. "…Um, First Officer?"

Three girls in front of him. First-class equivalent soldiers visiting from the 11th Island. His wordless gaze asked, Surely not?

“They are the soldiers.” The Armado’s answer was straight and to the point. It was also exactly what he’d hoped to not hear.

Feodor looked back at the girls. By their appearances, they were only fifteen years old. "Question. When did the Winged Guard start training children?" He himself was seventeen, not actually that much older than them, but that was of course an entirely separate matter altogether.

"As I said, they are the soldiers.”

Annoyance was clearly present in the First Officer’s voice, but Feodor persisted regardless. “No matter how you slice it, they’re delicate ladies. To put it mildly, our division is a den of vulgarity, isn't it? Is this really a good idea?”

"Hey now, are you calling this place a den of vulgarity in front of the officer responsible?"

"Are you going to deny it?"

Just then, Private First Class Talmareet’s angry shouts could be heard from the training grounds; a morally questionable tirade of words whose utterance outside the military base would have vigilante groups dogpiling the speaker. The orange-haired girl blushed and looked downward, while the cherry blossom-haired girl tilted her head, looking puzzled, and the purple-haired girl chuckled strangely.

"...See? Isn't this place a vulgar den?" Feodor’s lip curled; he was beginning to feel a sinking sensation. "Whatever, I don't care anymore."

“Be that as it may, Fourth Officer Jessman,” the First Officer waved his hand, “I wasn’t asking for your personal opinion on this assignment. Your orders are to supervise these first-class equivalent soldiers, and I won’t permit any objection.”

Well, that’s that. This was the army. Whether or not the explanation was to your taste, you couldn’t choose what you wanted to do.

"I have no particular objections. I am honored that you entrust important tasks to an inexperienced person like me,” Feodor replied grudgingly. “But at the very least, let me ask something. I’m a military officer, this is the armed forces, and we're in an emergency situation. Our capabilities are limited. What in the world am I supposed to do to supervise these children?"

"Nothing."

"...What?"

"These first-class equivalent soldiers will be stationed here. As far as peacetime training and duties are concerned, treat them the same as any other soldier. They've passed the basic training curriculum on the 11th Island, so you won’t need to worry about their ability at that level."

The cherry blossom-haired girl added a cheerful “Yep, yep!” in agreement.

"However, they’re still our precious guests. As much as I’d like to allow them to run freely without restraint, that’s impossible under the circumstances. These girls must always be under the supervision of the military, and their overseer must be of the officer rank or higher. A superior officer in name is necessary. And furthermore–”

His stumpy finger jabbed in Feodor’s direction. "Just as you’ve said, the 5th Division is a vulgar place, and one would be reluctant to simply throw these girls out into that chaos. So in short, they need a chaperone. That person needs to be somebody who’s glad to help others, understands the 5th Division well, doesn’t have prejudices against markless, and has a logical mind. It just so happens that, in this entire division, there is exactly one ideal Fourth Officer who satisfies all of these conditions. Any questions so far?”

“...None, sir.” It was a reasonable evaluation of him. Feodor Jessman was a good person. He was calm and conscientious, kind to everyone and yet strict. He excelled at many things, but didn’t lord his superiority above others. He always remained positive, had grand goals, and never slacked off.

At least, others looking at him would assume so. That was the image he’d carefully cultivated.

"Of course, I don’t make the decision without any concerns. Your races are similar and you’re close to them in age, not to mention you’re male and they’re female – so that makes me slightly uneasy. Say, you’re an Imp, aren’t you? When exactly is your mating season again?”

"I don't have... that kind of thing." Why is this old man talking about dirty things in front of girls?

"Uh huh. Well, whatever, as long as there’s consent involved I don’t care what you do. It’s a delicate time for all of us though, so don’t do anything untoward or else the whole division’s morale will be damaged–”

"I won't,” Feodor interrupted heatedly. Feeling the girls’ gazes on him, he reconsidered. Maybe immediately rejecting the idea was a bit too much. I don’t want them to think badly of me. “Er, that is to say, while I do think they’re pretty enough, I’m devoted to my fiance. I’m not about to drift away to other women.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie. His family had once chosen a fiance for him.

But I’ll never be able to see her again. He hid his innermost thoughts behind his smile.

"That so? First I’ve heard of it."

"Yes, well, it's not something I spread around too much. By the way, First Officer..."

"What?"

"Earlier, didn't you say ‘four first-class equivalent soldiers'?"

"I did," the Armado nodded.

Feodor turned to the girls and did a head count. The orange-haired one was blushing bashfully, the cherry blossom-haired one had boldly puffed her chest up for some reason, and the purple-haired girl just stared back amusedly.

"...I seem to count only three present.”

The orange-haired girl seemingly mustered up some courage and raised her hand. "Ah, um, may I speak?!" she asked a little too eagerly.

"Oh, what is it?”

"Erm… First-Class Equivalent Soldier Tiat Shiba Ignareo isn’t here."

That’s an overly long name.

"S-she's not feeling well. She might be a little late, b-but she'll be right here..." Going off her attempts to stand still and the cracks in her voice, the girl was desperately trying to cover for her missing companion.

“Ah, I see.” In contrast, the First Officer’s reply was delivered with almost breezy nonchalance. “That’s fine.”

Out of the six divisions of the Winged Guard, the 5th Division is said to possess the highest grade of laziness and irresponsibility among its troops. Whether or not that reputation is caused by the people in charge having the personality to match, or else those leaders are chosen by the top brass due to the notoriety of the division itself, remains a mystery.

"It’s not like you girls have a schedule to follow yet, anyway,” the First Officer was saying, “so as long as you’re not late for something important it’s not a probl–”

The door, still half-closed, suddenly burst all the way open as if kicked.

"E-excuse me for being late! First-Class Equivalent Soldier Tiat, reporting in!"

This one has poor timing, Feodor mused. As he’d expected, the newest girl was the same age as the other three, with grass-colored hair. She’d probably run here as fast as she could; her face was flushed and she was out of breath.

She was the girl he’d met atop the abandoned theater the other day.

Ah… Feodor found that he wasn’t entirely surprised by this new development. Somehow, I had a feeling it’d be like this.

The girl swiveled her head around, taking in everything her wide eyes could see in the room as she rushed and tried to catch up with the situation. Once her gaze landed on Feodor’s figure in front of her, she froze.

"...Wait, y-y-you?! Wh-why are you here?!”

"Er…” He wasn’t sure if he was still supposed to have forgotten about her. Nevertheless, Feodor took the first move, acting in accordance to what she’d wanted from him back then. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ladies. Apologies for the late introduction, but I am Fourth Officer Feodor Jessman. Just now, I’ve accepted the duty of being your supervisor and guide to our humble 5th Division.”

He placed his hand on his chest in salute and flashed them his best smile. "You may already be aware of this much, but the 5th Division is currently engaged in battle preparations. I believe this can be confusing even for the 2nd Division’s elite members, so if you have any questions please come talk with me. As your superior, I shall try my best to be of assistance.”

"Y-y-yes s-sir – ow!" The orange-haired girl had bitten her tongue. "It’ll be… pleashure worhking... with you!”

"Oooh!" The cherry blossom-haired girl exclaimed, oddly impressed. "The smiling face of a womanizer!"

"Nice to meet ya, Fourth Officer." The purple-haired girl grinned at him. "I'm sure we’ll get along. Hopefully it won’t be too brief.”

Feodor turned to the girl with green hair, the one he’d seen slip and fall into the water tank yesterday.

"Nnh… Nice to meet you..." Her eyes flickered back and forth nervously, the situation having passed her by long ago, but she managed to keep up with his act. “I-it’s my… pleasure to work with you…”

#sukasuka #sukamoka #fan translation #shuumatsu nani shitemasu ka isogashii desu ka sukutte moratte ii desu ka #shuumatsu nani shitemasu ka mou ichido dake aemasu ka

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texanredrose · 7 years ago

Text

By Moonlight - The End

Yang fidgeted all through the meeting, sitting beside her wife and trying her damnedest to appear like she wasn't counting the seconds. Normally, she'd have no problems at all providing her expertise, especially for such a unique problem as a rampaging unicorn driving people out of a forest along the western border; they were usually docile creatures, preferring to flee rather than fight, but this one had wounded six woodcutters and chased off a few children.

Quite frankly, she thought the villagers should just leave the unicorn alone and come back in a few months, but that was neither fair nor right.

"Has the unicorn left the forest at all?" Winter, equally anxious, managed to maintain her composure moderately better. Outside the window, the moon rose high in the sky, yet she remained in her human form. All things considered, it spoke volumes to the woman's iron will; they'd painfully gone through the flashes of memories she experienced upon first turning and tied them to ancient werewolf bloodlines.

Yang still could hardly believe it. Winter now stood as the last bastion of several old packs, ones driven to extinction by the Vacuon warlocks who stole their blood, some of the most fearsome werewolves to ever roam the land now sharing a blood bond with the Atlesian Princess. They'd been captured and tortured to madness before being released, spawning the many terrible stories that survived to present day regarding werewolves as a whole, and how Winter hadn't immediately began carving a bloody path through Atlas when she turned mystified not only the dragon but the Elders, too. They'd been wary at first but accepted Winter among them, just as Yang said they would, and it proved to be a bit awkward as more than half were tempted to defer to the younger werewolf's judgment, regardless of her inexperience.

The intervening years had greatly improved Winter's control of her inner wolf. The moon didn't hold the same sway, but she still turned once the sun set as opposed to remaining human, and they often ran through the forest together- up until recently, anyway.

"No, Your Highness." The harried messenger sighed heavily. "We've tried everything to appease it. We've sent virgins-"

"That's a myth," Yang said, her irritation beginning to show. "They're drawn to those pure of heart, but if it's charging children, then it's likely been wounded or it's protecting someone who is." She tapped the table. "Leave out medicinal herbs in a basket at the edge of the forest. If it's gone by morning, then it's someone else; if the unicorn is standing in the area, then have a healer approach slowly with a sage necklace. If neither occurs, then send urgent word to the guild." Her gaze slid to the guild master, a man Winter trusted unequivocally- a member of their pack. "James, send a few of the younger members with Ren to oversee the offering; there's a chance it might anger the unicorn, so they can at least turn its anger north rather than to the village."

"Of course, Your Highness." He inclined his head. "I'll see to the arrangements. Thank you for taking the time to hear this request out."

Yang didn't bother replying, immediately shooting up from her seat and heading for the door, her wife falling into step behind her after offering a quick, cordial farewell.

"Easy, Sundrop." Her voice, soft, held enough edge to be slightly reproachful. "We're not far-"

"We're too far," she replied, quickening her pace down the halls. "It's too late to be leaving the room at all- what if we miss them hatching?"

"We won't-"

"But what if we do?" The whole process had been long and drawn out. Two months of carrying the eggs before she laid them and another eight keeping them warm during the Atlesian winter, with only her duties as the kingdom's official authority on uncommon beasts managing to pull her from the room. Winter brought her food and water, sat with the eggs when Yang absolutely had to leave, but she didn't share the same attachment to them as the dragon did, instead more concerned about her mate's well being. It made sense- wolves and humans usually carried their young to term- but it frustrated the dragon to the core. "I won't have them coming into this world without me right next to them."

"I understand that, but you're running yourself ragged at this point." Winter sighed, realizing she wouldn't win the battle and dropping the offensive, her form shifting as she turned. Although the halls wouldn't allow for Yang's larger form to comfortably navigate, the werewolf could lope along the stone rather easily. She didn't hesitate to dig her fingers deep into white fur and pull herself onto Winter's back, pressing low so she could run, down the halls towards the dragon sized addition to the castle.

Servants, guards, and whoever else happened to be in the hallway quickly ducked down corridors to avoid the two, everyone more than aware of Yang's lack of patience for being away from her eggs. When they made the last turn, the royal guards standing at the doors wordlessly opened them, admitting the two without a word; they knew better than to waste time with pleasantries considering the circumstances.

"I feel like we should be offended you have so little faith in us," Weiss said, having taken off her crown and relaxed as much as she ever did, one arm curled around her eldest child seated in her lap. Blake, meanwhile, had the twins occupied with some manner of puzzle that Yang couldn't be bothered to decipher as she leapt into the air and shifted, gliding to the little nest she'd made and quickly checking her eggs, all of which were motionless and intact.

I told you. Winter padded over to her side as she wrapped her tail around the assortment of blankets and furs, all sprinkled with enchanted dust to prevent any fire mishaps; according to their father, Yang had hatched and immediately set fire to the nest, which he'd found funny only in hindsight. Their scents drenched the entire area, with Weiss', Blake's, and their children's scents much less prominent, and all others obliterated by periodic blasts of dragonfire. The staff thought it a bit odd but it set Yang's mind at ease, running more on instinct than sense ever since she'd gotten pregnant. We had time.

You're lucky. The Dragon blew smoke through her nose. If we'd missed it-

"We would've sent for you," Blake said, the ears atop her head twitching. "They're moving around but they've not started trying to break through. There would've been plenty of time."

That's not the point.

Sundrop. Winter crawled atop her coils until she could rest her muzzle on the dragon's snout. You're fretting too much. You'll make yourself sick worrying over nothing. Her ears dropped to the sides of her head as she sides deeply. You'll be a fantastic mother. Of that much, I'm certain, so have a little faith in yourself.

Yang snorted, only a little smoke billowing from her nostrils. I'll never be as good as Summer.

"That's not even a fair comparison; Mom was the definition of Super Mom and you know it!" Ruby chimed in, slipping through the door bearing a tray piled high with cooked meats. "And she was also a witch, so I'm not sure if it really counts when almost all the chores did themselves."

That's-

"Beside the point, we know." Four voices chorused and Yang winced.

... okay, maybe I'm a little high strung. The way canine ears laid back spoke to the severity of that understatement but she ignored it. Can you really blame me?

Of course not. Winter nuzzled against her, tail wagging. But the faith you have in me, I have in you. Our children will be thankful for a mother so attentive. Her tail stilled. Between us, you certainly have a better maternal instinct, and a better role model.

"I'd take offense to that if I didn't agree," Willow said, striding into the room and bearing another tray like Ruby's. Between a dragon and a werewolf, they had quite the appetite. "You both have a much healthier relationship than I had with Jacques. You're already miles ahead in that department, and I'm certain the rest will fall in line, even with dragon... kits? What is the proper name for Dragon young?"

We call them hatchlings. Yang sighed, eyeing the plates of meat; she couldn't remember the last time Winter reminded her to eat, nor if she'd actually followed the advice.

Sensing where her mate's mind had wandered, the werewolf got up and loped over to her sister-in-law, grabbing a piece of meat in her jaws- lean pork, lightly salted by the smell- and snapped her head to the side, tossing it up in easy range for the dragon to snap out and pluck it from the air. The grumbling in her stomach said that it'd been far too long since she'd last eaten, making her disinclined to stop accepting the meat thrown her way.

"Hatchlings? Curious; at what point are they no longer considered that?"

"Once they've made their first kill," Blake replied, wincing and putting a hand to her swollen belly, the fourth royal child on the way for the ruling couple. "She's kicking again."

"You're sure? Another girl?" Weiss did her best to keep the hopefulness out of her voice but it shone in her eyes all the same.

"I'm sure." The Faunus laughed as the twins inspected their Mommy's belly, little feline ears twitching. "You have a little sister on the way. But first, cousins."

"Cousins?" Their eldest perked up, twisting in Mother's lap. "We get cousins?"

"You absolutely do, my little Grace." Weiss smiled, looking towards her sister, busy licking her muzzle after finishing a cut of beef. "When do you think they'll be ready to hunt?"

Anywhere between a few months to a few years. Winter tilted her head. Though I'm not sure how their mixed heritage might affect that.

Well, I'm only half dragon, too, Yang said, her hunger sated for the moment, freeing her up to consider the question posed. But the only difference it made for me is that I can't really change my human appearance. Dragons can usually assume whatever outward appearance they wish, but I look like my dad.

"Perhaps-"

Suddenly, her attention snapped away as Blake's ears perked up and her own hearing picked up something that sounded like faint scrabbling. She watched the four little eggs- all of them a pale yellow with splotches of light blue- and held her breath until one shifted, just slightly.

It's happening.

What? Winter jumped up onto her coils, peering down with her ears cocked forward. Are you sure?

Listen. Silence fell on the room until another faint sound came from a different egg, the top wobbling just a little. There!

I saw. Winter moved along her coils, nuzzling against her cheek. We're right here for them.

Minutes passed and Yang found it difficult to breathe, wanting to reach out and help the hatchlings and restraining herself by the barest measures. They would need to break into the world on their own. The waiting was agonizing but when she saw the cracks appear on one egg, her wings began to flex erratically, anticipation rising.

Snowdrift! Snowdrift, look!

I see. Winter pressed against her cheek. We're keeping to the names we picked out?

Yeah. She couldn't be sure- not as sure as Blake, anyway- but she thought the darker splotches of blue might be little girls while the more vibrant yellow might signify a boy, but she honestly didn't care, she already loved them. It shouldn't be much longer now.

All eyes in the room remained fixated on the four eggs, two of which moved around a lot, while a third had started to move as well. Yang could feel her excitement rising, shoulders bunching as Weiss and Blake came to stand beside her coils, while Ruby plopped down on her curled tail, and the children fluctuated between being bored and trying to get in the spirit of their parents' anticipation.

Then, after a small eternity, one of the eggs broke, a tiny scaled nose poking through and taking its first breaths of air, gleaming white scales visible beneath the fluid.

There you go, little one, she said, voice as soft as she could make it. Just a little more.

At first, the nose retreated, and then it pushed again, tiny claws aiding as the little dragon broke a bigger hole, the egg falling over. A little dragon head slipped out, blue eyes blinking and curiously taking in the world.

Hello, little Zephyr. Winter fidgeted where she sat. Welcome to the world.

The first hatchling twisted her head around, blinking up at them and opening her mouth, a sound halfway between a roar and a whine slipping out. Not words, not dragonspeak or even the language of werewolves, just the sounds of a newborn testing out vocal chords for the very first time.

Come on. Come out. Yang felt tears of pride stinging her eyes, happiness flooding her as the second egg broke. Come out, Zise. Her brows rose in surprise as the hole in the second egg was made bigger by a paw, a thin layer of fine fur instead of scales poking out followed by a little white dragon's head. Uh...

The werewolf beside her blinked. Is... that...

I have... no idea... Yang cast a look around, not that anyone else knew better than her as the second hatchling broke free into the world, revealing wolf's paws and a dragon's body, head, and tail. Little one?

Bright gold eyes looked up at her, long neck stretching towards the dragon as she let out a similar noise to her sister. The third egg broke, golden scales accompanied a dragon's head and front half, but from the belly down he was all wolf.

Well...

"They're... cute." Weiss didn't sound insincere but rather confused. "I've... certainly never heard of any creature like these. They're... unique."

"I wonder if this is normal, the combining of traits like this." Blake tilted her head, a quirk to her lips. "They're adorable."

"Are you kidding?" Ruby laughed, clapping her hands together. "They're perfect!"

They really are, Winter said, nuzzling against Yang's cheek. They're incredible.

Yeah. Now the shock had passed, the dragon could feel her pride and happiness surging forth, pressing back against her wife and mate. Just like their Mom.

I'd argue they take more after you. But lilac eyes fell on the fourth egg, still and unblemished, and her heart sank. Winter noted her shift in mood, following her gaze to the fourth of their eggs. Oh...

Three out of four... She shifted her right arm unconsciously. Guess that's a theme for me.

Oh Sundrop, this isn't your fault. The werewolf nosed under her jaw, rubbing at the soft spot in her scales. It happens-

Is that supposed to make me feel better? She sighed, lowering her head to prod at the three hatchlings. Come here, little ones. Let Momma get a good look at you.

However, now more or less mastering the ancient art of walking- it honestly looked more like stumbling around and luckily getting a claw beneath them before hitting the ground- they ignored her attention to look at the other egg, wobbling over until Zephyr could rear up and put her tiny claws up on the egg, sparking a flare of anger from Yang.

Don't-

Fire gathered on her tongue, a warning to be released high over their heads, but Winter wrapped her forelegs around the dragon's head to keep her jaws closed- a futile effort but as effective as a steel trap.

Wait. They watched as the other two hatchlings made their way over. Give them a moment.

Everyone watched as the three nosed at the egg until the eldest pulled her head back and rammed it forward, smacking hard against the egg.

Yang shifted slightly, whining a little, but her wife hushed her.

Then the other two began hitting their heads against the same spot, taking turns, and using the pointed tips of their mouths to peel back the shell, and the full grown dragon quite nearly ripped herself away from Winter in her distress until a tiny black nose poked through the new opening, twitching and sniffing.

What... Yang watched in slack jawed astonishment as the werewolf climbed down and approached the egg slowly, lowering her head so their hatchlings could press against her muzzle, recognizing her by scent and opening their little wings wide in a cute, playful gesture. Winter used her claws to carefully break open the last egg, revealing their fourth hatchling, mostly covered in white fur except from shoulder to tail, where she had the yellow scales, wings, and tail of a dragon. The wolf's eyes were closed, canine ears pressed flat against her skull, and Yang's breath caught entirely in her throat. ... Zajah...

She looks more mammal than draconic. Winter noted, placing their still blind hatchling among her siblings. No wonder she had difficulties.

The dragon lowered her head down, allowing for tiny claws to begin scrabbling against her scales and feeling a wet nose press against her chin. Hello, little ones.

"I can't believe we're witnessing the beginning of a new line." She looked over to see Ruby's wide eyes, shining with excitement. "Wolfdragons."

"Mommy?" One of the twins turned a curious look to Blake. "What are those?"

And with all the confidence of a seven year old, Grace answered. "They're scaly fluffy baby cousins."

The rest of the room stood in stunned silence until Weiss finally coughed into her hand. "It's not like she's wrong."

All of them burst into laughter, Yang's body uncoiling to allow Weiss and Blake to escort their family over to the hatchlings while Ruby darted ahead to scoop up Zise. Zephyr and Zachariah tentatively approached their cousins, with Zajah acclimating to the sudden increase in movement with little yelps that Winter soothed while Yang let out a low growl to settle all four of them. Eventually, the dragon turned her head to see Willow standing off to the side, speaking directly to the woman so it wouldn't upset her wife. Do you want a better look at your grandchildren?

The woman's lips twitched, responding in kind- one of the few humans to master the skill. The birth of my children are the few good memories I have out of nearly twenty four years. I wouldn't want to intrude.

You're part of this family, too. She smiled. I'm sure there's many new happy memories awaiting us.

Mother, Winter said, holding their last hatchling in one massive paw while using the other three to move. Look, she has a birthmark just like I do.

"Does she now?" Willow stepped closer, reaching out to accept the youngest of her grandchildren- for the moment, anyway. Blake had only a few months left before she was due, and the current betting pool around the castle expected more additions to the royal family. "Come to Granny Willow, little Zajah."

Yang smiled, chuckling as Weiss set the eldest atop her snout, the white dragon opening her mouth open wide. In time, they would grow- who knew how big- and maybe they'd fly the skies with her or run the fields alongside Winter, and maybe they'd look just like a combination of their parents in their human forms, too, and a million other possibilities whirled through her head as she made a solemn vow.

I will do my best as your momma, little ones. Yang's gaze was drawn up to the windows as a shadow appeared, black and red scales surrounding bright red eyes. The dragon on the other side of the glass looked at her for a moment before giving a single nod and disappearing into the night.

"Sorry I'm late!" The doors opened as Taiyang burst in, three royal guards hanging off the man. "I heard I have grandkids! Finally!"

"Guards! Let the man be; he's my father-in-law!" Weiss paused. "I'm pretty sure that's how it works."

"At any rate, he's allowed to be here," Blake said, the guards following orders and releasing the man.

"So where-" His eyes fell on Zephyr, Zise, Zach, and Zajah in turn, blinking for a moment before his smile widened. "Well, look at them! They're-"

"They're wolfdragons, Dad, and they're awesome!" Zach started licking at the underside of Ruby's jaw, making her laugh. "They're like puppies with scales!"

"Sounds like you're in for an easier time than I had." He laughed, striding forward and holding his arms out to Zach. "Now come here little guy! What's your name?"

Yang watched as her father embraced one of of his grandchildren, Zephyr scrabbling to the edge of her snout to inspect the newcomer, this man who smelled a little like Momma and a little different, and the dragon in her felt absolutely content with the treasures before her.

In her excitement, Winter tilted her head back and let out a long howl, following it with a few shorter ones that conveyed her overflowing emotions. Almost together, four tiny voices echoed her, the sounds not... quite the same, but close enough.

Weiss told the guards to send for Klein, James, and Healer Goodwitch, that the newest additions to their family might know the extent of their pack.

#Elderburn #Monochrome #TRR writes #Werewolf!Winter AU #By Moonlight AU #TRR and the discord shenanigans

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luntica · 7 years ago

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prompt list: Sho/Riku (bonus points with their kiddos) #8, 12, 13, 17, 20, 39, 46, 48, 57, 63, 66, 68

It was a day like any other, the small mix match of shifters doing their daily chores. Sho walks into the room built for the little ones, stopping in his tracks as he looks up." Who are you?" He asks frozen in fear. A pack of five strangers stand just inside by the window. Three charge at him, grabbing at his arms, he trys to shift into his bird form to escape but they turn into lions and quickly swat him to the floor. Back into his human form as he is nocked into having his brain scrambled, the lions use this chance to pin him down. "The mountain lion pride?" He says in the shock and confusion, but it was very odviously them. "A baby." The apparent ring leader says with a smile looking into the crib. Sho struggles more pushing against the stronger species that was holding him down. His muscles bruised and his bones creaked at the struggle but he wasn't giving in. "No! Don't! Hurt me, leave them alone!" Sho complained, as the ring leader picked up one of the younglings, the little rabbit like ears twitching and the tiny paws struggling against the strangers hold. "Honey it's ok, everything's ok." Sho tried to consul the baby as the leader looked the little things over. "Damn, you're so cute. Such a good father. To bad it's to this mix breed abomination." The leader said handing the baby to a lacky that was seeming to be unsure about all this. He cuddled the baby trying to comfort it as the ring leader kept their attention on sho. "Please, their just children." Sho said as the leader walked over to him. "Who will grow to be freaks, you should have stuck to your own species bird brain." The leader spat their words before grabbing sho's hair and slamming his head into the ground where he was held at. Sho felt the blood leave his aching nose as the leader laughed."Does that hurt?" The leader than asked with a wicked Smile. "Sho? Everything ok? I smell blood. Can I come in?" Riku's voice came from behind the door. If sho wasn't known for hurting himself often, Riku would have likely burst in at the smell. The group suddenly got nervous. Sho was easy to handle with force but Riku, nothing would stop that wolf. Sho smiles at the intruders before speaking to them." That doesn't sound promising. For you at least." He laughs a little before the group turn to each other. One of the lions on top of sho turns to the others."We can't just sit here and do nothing!" The others mumble in agreement but not knowing what to do. Sho was done giving them chances. "Riku help!" He called out and the door was thrown off its hinges. Two of the lions dash right away, while the third who stayed on top of sho gets clawed in the face. The fourth puts he baby down before pating the ring leader with that face of 'i told you this was a bad idea'"Curiosity killed the cat." He said before dashing too. Leaving one bleeding lion being beaten up on, and an Abaddon ring leader standing between a mother wolf and the pups."I'm not scared of you!" The ex ring leader says, shaking in their boots. Riku looked to sho for advice. To which sho sits up slowly."No limit hold em." Sho says, a code for the plan of using brute force in a fight."That doesn't sound safe. Let's do it." Riku says in response, smiling a toothy grin. Sho transforms and goes for the eyes while Riku shifts and gets ready for a big bite.The poor lion is left running away barely alive, destroyed property all over the place as there was no holding back. Once they were sure no lions were on the property anymore, sho leaned on the wall catching his breath. Riku Walked over frowning."You didn't have to fight with me, you could have stayed back I could handle it." Riku said touching sho's cheek. The crow smiled and leaned into the touch of his lover." Id go anywhere with you. Plus I was mad too." Sho explained before they kissed and went back to their kids.

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junker-town · 7 years ago

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The NFL opened up a football theme park in the middle of Times Square

And it’s one more way the league wants to hook you.

MANHATTAN �� The brand new NFL Experience in Times Square is not a football museum. I make the mistake of calling it that while talking to Danny Boockvar, the president of the whole endeavor, who’s walking me through the fourth floor of the 40,000 square-foot space.

“It’s purposely not meant to be a deep exhibit and museum,” he says, shaking his head. “I like to think of it as Disney meets-the Hall of Fame-meets Dave and Buster’s, with a liquor license in Times Square.”

Broockvar is an enthusiastic guy wearing a quilted vest, a wool blazer, and reminds me of a prep school headmaster who’s just closed a particularly lucrative capital campaign. He’s on the board of New York City’s tourism department, and when he heard about this project in June of 2016, he left his job as the CEO of New York Cruise Lines to head it up. The NFL and Cirque du Soleil had been planning the project for about a year and a half at that point.

As we walk through the room, Broockvar tells me that while I have entered as a fan, I will soon become a player, and then I will leave as a champion. I will do all of this by watching a movie in a next-level IMAX-ish theater, participating in a mock combine/practice hybrid, and looking at the Lombardi trophy in a room where the carpet is designed to resemble a football field littered with confetti.

Broockvar and I pass a case containing a cheerleading uniform, one of a few displays of actual memorabilia. Most of the action on this floor takes place on screens inlaid on tables set up throughout the space. I hit a button on one to tell it I’m a Patriots fan. Highlights from recent years pop up, and I hit play on the video of Malcolm Butler’s game-winning interception from the 2015 Super Bowl. I feel a degree of the same excitement and incredulity that I did when I saw it live in 2015.

“This is for both the avid fan, casual fan, domestic fan, and international visitors,” Broockvar says, gesturing at a family speaking what I think is Dutch nearby. The place is pretty empty because it’s not officially open yet — there’s been a soft opening, but the big kick-off event is two days away.

This non-museum is like the NFL itself: Brightly colored, loud, stimulating, and a surprising mix of gaudy and beautiful. The project has been in the works for three years, but as the storm of PR crises rage on — pick your poison: CTE, Jerry Jones v. Roger Goodell, backlash against players protesting social justice — the timing of the opening seems like a shiny new toy the league is hoping will serve as a distraction. That, and a way to keep consumers engaged and spending money in the off-season at locations away from stadiums. They want to hook anyone they can get.

Charlotte Wilder

“I mean, look,” Broockvar continues, “Whether they’ve ever watched a football game before or not, this is like the thriller version of the hall of fame. It’s entertaining, fun, engaging, and digestible.”

The 4D movie that Broockvar promises will “knock my socks off” is about to start, so he leads me into the theater. I ask what 4D is. It’s … well, Broockvar doesn’t want to ruin it for me, so he won’t go into details. But he does say that it’s more like a ride than a movie: There are screens on three out of the four walls, the seats in the theater move, and there will be wind. He tells me to turn my seat up to the “max” setting. I sit down and oblige.

The movie begins with a series of warnings that could also, I suppose, be applied to an actual NFL game — you might experience motion sickness, you could have a seizure, it will be very loud, and pregnant women should probably sit this one out.

My seat starts to shake and my body tenses up as the Packers run out of the tunnel to take the field. NFL Films is a partner in this whole thing, so there’s lots of “never-before-seen” footage from the point of view of players. My chair buzzes, slowly at first, as Aaron Rodgers looks for an open receiver. The vibrations ramp up as he pulls his arm back to throw, then suddenly the whole seat shifts, tilting me forward. Rodgers releases the ball and my seat whips me to the side, slamming me into the armrest as the quarterback get tackled by a defender who’s charged at him out-of-the-blue on the front screen. Video of the stands on the side screens show fans screaming and cheering.

Montage after montage of hits and sacks and throws and touchdowns take us through the regular season as I’m yanked around in time to the action. When I told a friend a few days ago that I was coming here, he’d said, “The NFL Experience? What, do they just slam your head against a wall for a few hours?” He was joking, clearly, but it kind of feels like that’s what’s happening right now.

“This is probably the first thing [off the field] I’ve been a part of that gave me goosebumps,” the Giants wide receiver Brandon Marshall will say when I talk to him at the end of the visit. The NFL Experience wanted a player to do some interviews, and since Marshall is injured and has some free time, he’s the guy they got.

“The anticipation, that anxiety that you feel in the theater, like ‘What’s happening next?’ That’s real. Once in my career I was in a scramble and literally it felt like all 22 guys on the field were on top of me. I freaked out. It can be the longest 30 seconds of your life.”

The film takes us onto the playoffs. The Star Spangled Banner plays through the speakers and my seat quakes as fighter jets fly overhead. Music that sounds like a mashup of the Games of Thrones opening credits and the NFL on FOX gets louder. The patriotic display is overt and overwhelming — I feel like I’m watching the football equivalent of a propaganda film from World War II, or an ad for the Marines that runs during games.

The film ends before anyone makes it to the Super Bowl, but it’s done its job: According to Boockvar, I have officially become a player, and it’s time to move on to the mock equipment room and practice facility a floor below.

There’s a vertical jump in here, as well as dummy blocking, an interactive play-calling situation with Jon Gruden (that was filmed especially for this!), a build-your-own-trading-card station, and a place where you can throw a football at a screen to a virtual wide receiver. Despite the fact that I think I’ve blown out my knee as I jump in boots, and that I’ve only made the practice squad with my weak showing against the dummy, I’m having a blast. Playing football is fun. I delight in throwing spirals to a pixilated Gronk, who catches two and misses one, and isn’t to blame for the latter.

Cohn & Wolfe

I have not performed exceptionally well, but as I walk down the stairs and to the final floor, I have won the Super Bowl nonetheless. The confetti hanging from the ceiling is the Patriots’ colors, but it will change each year according to which team is the current champion. There’s a display of Super Bowl rings from year to year, which have gotten increasingly ostentatious, as well as copies of tickets. A few decades ago, a seat went for $12. Last year, the one displayed on the wall cost $1500.

I am officially a champion. I walk through “the media tunnel” and enter the bar and restaurant area that overlooks Times Square. It will serve rotating offerings of specific dishes from stadiums, and will be — the league hopes — a place you can watch the game on Thursday nights.

While the informational aspect felt a bit too thin for actual fans, the drills were enjoyable no matter how much or how little you know about the game. I can see where if you’re a football-obsessed kid, or a family that won’t be going to a game anytime soon, this would be a cool, behind-the-scenes look. Or if you’re on vacation with time to kill in midtown. Here, the NFL is saying to foreign tourists, is America.

I just can’t shake the fact that the theme-park portion isn’t a simulation of a ride, it’s a simulation of the hits player’s bodies endure (and evidence of the 100% injury rate). Dawn Hudson, the NFL’s chief marketing officer, will tell me on the phone a day later that it’s more than that— it’s about running, juking, throwing. She says that as someone who didn’t play football, getting to experience a big person coming at you in real time was eye-opening.

It was. On television and even in the stands, watching football isn’t so visceral. Here, however, getting thrown around in the seats, it was impossible to ignore and honestly a little alarming. The NFL and Cirque du Soleil know what buttons to push to elicit reaction and emotion. They knew to show me the Butler interception, to kick up the music there, release some fake snow here. I’m just not sure they intended it all to worry me more than pump me up.

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othersportsnews-blog · 7 years ago

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Answering greatest questions for each NFL group getting into 2017 coaching camp

New Post has been published on https://othersportsnews.com/answering-greatest-questions-for-each-nfl-group-getting-into-2017-coaching-camp/

Answering greatest questions for each NFL group getting into 2017 coaching camp

How will participating in on a just one-12 months offer influence Washington QB Kirk Cousins? Should the Colts depend on Andrew Luck to get started 7 days one? What is Le’Veon Bell‘s system for the Steelers’ preseason?

As coaching camps all around the league swing into comprehensive gear, NFL Country reporters remedy the greatest questions for just about every group heading into camp.

AFC East

Does Tyrod Taylor have the supporting forged to give the ideal analysis of his effectiveness?

Taylor is underneath the microscope after he agreed to a decreased contract this offseason that could permit the Bills to launch him after the 2017 time and preserve $14 million of his $eighteen.one million cap selection. But the Bills’ situation at receiver continues to be just one of the murkiest in the NFL and it could influence how a lot Taylor is equipped to strengthen. Prime wideout Sammy Watkins need to keep healthful after missing chunks of his earlier two coaching camps with accidents, even though newcomers Zay Jones and Andre Holmes just about every have something to establish in purchase to get the No. two work. There is also the possibility of an outside the house veteran this sort of as Anquan Boldin getting into the mix. — Mike Rodak

Will the Dolphins function out a contract extension with Pro Bowl receiver Jarvis Landry?

To Landry’s credit history, he has carried out all he can to not permit his contract status to become a distraction. He has claimed and carried out all the appropriate things, together with demonstrating up for voluntary workouts in the spring. Landry is getting into the closing 12 months of his rookie offer and will get compensated both way. It really is just a matter of irrespective of whether Miami handles it now or after the time. — James Walker

Will Mike Gillislee seize the major running again work formerly held by LeGarrette Blount?

Signed as a restricted cost-free agent from Buffalo, exactly where he was powering LeSean McCoy on the depth chart, Gillislee’s offer will pay out him an common of about $three million per time. That is much more money than the Patriots had been supplying Blount, who scored eighteen rushing touchdowns in 2016. So they obviously see something in Gillislee that they imagine signifies an improve, and coaching camp is the 1st time we are going to get to see the running recreation in comprehensive-pads tactics. — Mike Reiss

Who’s on the bubble? Which rookie could shock? NFL Country reporters take a crack at a preliminary 53-male roster and commencing lineup projection and preview what to anticipate in coaching camp for each group.

No quarterbacks, offensive linemen or coordinators allowed — just pass-catchers and running backs. From 32-one, we’re ranking each team’s offensive weapons.

one Related

Does Christian Hackenberg have a opportunity to get the quarterback work?

Of course, but it probably will never occur right until the time is underway. He has still to take a frequent-time snap, and he nevertheless has not confronted a commencing defense in a recreation situation, counting the 2016 preseason. Probabilities are, the grizzled Josh McCown will land the work, but he is regarded as a bridge QB. When Hackenberg is considered ready, the work will be his. — Loaded Cimini

AFC North

Will the Ravens add an offensive lineman?

Of course, but possible only just one. The Ravens shed two a few-12 months starters (appropriate deal with Ricky Wagner and middle Jeremy Zuttah) and are now changing them with backups who couldn’t conquer out Wagner or Zuttah very last time. Baltimore would be inclined to signal a middle and appropriate deal with, but the group does not have ample salary-cap space to do so. If Nick Mangold would lower his inquiring price, the Ravens would probably signal the cost-free-agent middle to take around for both John Urschel or Ryan Jensen. Baltimore also could glimpse to improve around James Hurst at appropriate deal with. — Jamison Hensley

Will the Bengals’ offensive line arrive alongside one another?

The Bengals are breaking in starters at a few new positions after getting rid of Andrew Whitworth and Kevin Zeitler this offseason. Longtime deal with Andre Smith has re-signed with the Bengals to play guard for the 1st time, and the Bengals’ 2015 major draft picks, Cedric Ogbuehi and Jake Fisher, will have to establish their value at deal with. The Bengals have a large amount of function to do after permitting 41 sacks very last time. — Katherine Terrell

Who emerges as the commencing quarterback?

The only point anybody can say for absolutely sure is it will be just one of a few. Cody Kessler has a year’s knowledge. Brock Osweiler opened some eyes in offseason function. And DeShone Kizer is the rookie discovering his way. The Browns’ final aspiration would be if Kizer seized the work with his camp and preseason performances. That would permit them to allow him play instantly and develop from there. But the group was very clear when minicamp finished in June that he is not ready to get started, so the situation continues to be muddled. — Pat McManamon

What is Le’Veon Bell’s system for coaching camp?

The Steelers’ star running again has still to signal his franchise tender and a short while ago instructed ESPN that he hadn’t made a decision when he would report to camp. Gamers understand the business enterprise element after Bell unsuccessful to get to a very long-expression offer with the group, but they’d like to see him at camp due to the fact of his relevance to the group. Bell has recovered from offseason groin operation but is coaching in South Florida and thinks he does not need many tactics to be ready for the time. — Jeremy Fowler

AFC South

Who will open up the time as the Texans’ commencing quarterback?

Coach Invoice O’Brien suggests Tom Savage is the No. one man appropriate now, but offered the two 1st-spherical picks Houston gave up to draft Deshaun Watson, he really should get a reputable glimpse for the duration of coaching camp. Savage is getting into his fourth time in the Texans’ program, but due to the fact of accidents, he has played in only 5 NFL game titles and has not thrown a landing pass. No matter of who starts off at quarterback in 7 days one, O’Brien has revealed he is not shy about switching it up for the duration of the time. — Sarah Barshop

Will Andrew Luck be the Colts’ commencing quarterback in 7 days one?

The Colts hope that is the scenario, but they’re not a hundred per cent absolutely sure still. Luck was placed on the lively bodily not able to execute record with the anticipation that he’ll be ready for the get started of the frequent time. The Colts can not say with certainty that Luck will be the starter in opposition to the Los Angeles Rams due to the fact he missed the complete offseason even though rehabbing from January shoulder operation. Luck finally resumed throwing the 7 days of July 17. The subsequent move for him is to return to the apply discipline. — Mike Wells

Can Blake Bortles make the required strides to elevate his recreation?

Bortles potential customers the NFL in turnovers (63) and is 2nd in interceptions (51) around the earlier a few several years, and the Jaguars have created it extremely very clear to him that he need to appreciably lower all those numbers. While much more consideration is compensated to his mechanics, it really is his choice-building that has to strengthen. He has to get rid of the ball faster, not predetermine exactly where he is heading with the ball, and become greater at looking through defenses. — Mike DiRocco

Will Marcus Mariota modify his participating in style to keep healthful?

Headed into coaching camp, Mariota claimed he is “ready to go with almost everything” 7 months after suffering a broken appropriate leg, his 2nd consecutive time-ending injury. The Titans have superior anticipations in 2017, and all of them depend on Mariota, who ideas to be a lighter, more rapidly quarterback at 218 lbs . this time, remaining healthful and much more consistent. The Titans will need a large amount out of their franchise quarterback, but the system could need to change to much less made runs and much more sliding after scrambling to maintain Mariota healthful for sixteen-plus game titles. — Cameron Wolfe

AFC West

How very long will mentor Vance Joseph wait around to choose a starter at quarterback?

Joseph has claimed that what Trevor Siemian and Paxton Lynch did for the duration of the offseason program was geared toward discovering Mike McCoy’s offense and failed to depend on the proverbial scorecard to get the work. Having said that, at coaching camp, each throw, each choice, each phrase the two say in the huddle issues. Numerous of the Broncos’ gamers have claimed the faster the group picks a starter, the greater, but Joseph has claimed he is in no hurry. Joseph has claimed he will “take even so very long it will take to choose the appropriate man” and that he’ll make a choice when he sees “separation.” Joseph has even claimed he would take the choice appropriate up to the frequent time, but a set of joint tactics with the San Francisco 49ers to go together with the Aug. 19 preseason recreation in opposition to the 49ers will have a large amount to do with his choice. — Jeff Legwold

How a lot will QB Patrick Mahomes II play as a rookie?

The Chiefs are established not to spoil Mahomes, and the quickest way to do that is to play him in advance of he is ready. Judging from the way Mahomes played for the duration of offseason apply, he will never be ready for some time — maybe subsequent time. He is beginning coaching camp as the No. three quarterback, and even though he could rise on the depth chart at some position this 12 months, he’ll have to receive the marketing. In the Chiefs’ perfect entire world, Mahomes will never play at all in 2017. That implies starter Alex Smith stays healthful and is participating in nicely. — Adam Teicher

How a lot, if any, will rookie receiver Mike Williams play in 2017?

The Clemson products was identified with a lower-again disk herniation that retained him out of offseason function. Williams possible will commence coaching camp on the bodily not able to execute record, but he has responded positively after a 2nd epidural shot. The Chargers hope he can make it on to the discipline at some position for the duration of coaching camp so they can get him ready for the frequent time. — Eric D. Williams

Who is the middle linebacker?

The Raiders play in the Black Hole at the Oakland Coliseum, but they also may have a black hole in the middle of their defense … at minimum when it comes to knowledge at the situation. The man who started 11 game titles there very last time, Perry Riley Jr., continues to be unsigned. The man who started the time at middle linebacker very last time, Ben Heeney, is on the non-soccer injury record. And the man who manned it in offseason workouts, Tyrell Adams, did not play a one snap on defense very last time after currently being signed to the apply squad in early October in advance of currently being promoted to the lively squad in late November. The gig, it seems, is Adams’ to get rid of. — Paul Gutierrez

NFC East

How nicely will the Cowboys hurry the passer?

They really don’t have a DeMarcus Ware type who will command consideration from an offense on just about every snap, so they will depend on a quantity-around-top quality tactic. The Cowboys really don’t have a player with a double-digit-sack time in his occupation. They feel they will have 4 or 5 gamers, this sort of as DeMarcus Lawrence, Tyrone Crawford, Maliek Collins, Benson Mayowa and Taco Charlton, who can get 5 to 8 sacks on the time. — Todd Archer

Did the Giants do ample to correct the offense?

They included vast receiver Brandon Marshall, restricted stop Evan Engram and blocking restricted stop Rhett Ellison this offseason, but they barely addressed the offensive line. It really is feasible the Giants commence the time with the identical 5 starters on the line, with Ereck Bouquets and Bobby Hart as the tackles. They really should be enhanced but will nevertheless have some limitations with a underneath-common running recreation and line. — Jordan Raanan

Will Carson Wentz take a big leap forward in Calendar year two?

Coach Doug Pederson described Wentz as “refreshed, rejuvenated and ready to go” this 7 days as the Eagles kicked off coaching camp. Wentz included that he is in “a way greater place” mentally than this time a 12 months back when he was dealing with the major transition from North Dakota Condition to the professionals. Now armed with Alshon Jeffery and Torrey Smith at receiver and with a 12 months in this program underneath his belt, the expectation is that Wentz will take his recreation to one more degree in 2017. — Tim McManus

Will Kirk Cousins’ contract situation become a distraction?

Not to him. Cousins has been ready all offseason for participating in on the just one-12 months franchise-tag offer — and was probably much more irritated very last offseason when no very long-expression offer was attained. Taking part in in a identical spot very last time allow him know he can tackle it. A even bigger challenge will be modifying to life without the need of effective receivers Pierre Garcon and DeSean Jackson. Cousins desires Terrelle Pryor and Josh Doctson to be effective. — John Keim

NFC North

Does Mitchell Trubisky have a reputable opportunity to get started game titles as a rookie?

The Bears presently promised the commencing quarterback work to Mike Glennon, and they also signed veteran backup Mark Sanchez for superior measure, but Trubisky was drafted No. two all round. If Trubisky does not play in 2017, he would be Chicago’s 2nd major-10 choose (Kevin White is the other) in the earlier a few several years to sit out his rookie time. The only other intrigue bordering the Bears is John Fox’s work status (9-23 in Chicago), but Trubisky is a significantly much more persuasive determine as it relates to Chicago’s foreseeable future. — Jeff Dickerson

Who is heading to block Matthew Stafford‘s blind facet?

This should not have necessary to be a query for the Lions, but then Taylor Decker had shoulder operation and was considered out indefinitely. He was placed on the PUP record Tuesday, and now, it really is an open up levels of competition. Two of the candidates — Cyrus Kouandjio (NFI record) and Corey Robinson (PUP) — also will get started coaching camp sitting down out. That leaves the Lions with two authentic likely options for now: Cornelius Lucas and Greg Robinson. Lucas re-signed with the Lions as a restricted cost-free agent this offseason, and the Lions traded for Robinson for the duration of minicamp very last thirty day period. But Detroit has to determine out some type of option listed here or this could be a rough get started to the 2017 time. — Michael Rothstein

Will Ty Montgomery be the Packers’ workhorse again?

When Eddie Lacy signed with the Seahawks and typical supervisor Ted Thompson failed to signal a veteran, it ensured that Montgomery would get the 1st crack at the commencing work. And while mentor Mike McCarthy proclaimed the former receiver as his starter even after the group drafted a few running backs, he failed to make any claims about Montgomery’s workload. It really is a harmless guess Montgomery will get much more than the seventy seven carries he obtained very last time, but it may be a stretch to anticipate him to match Lacy’s two hundred-plus have tempo from his 1st two seasons. — Rob Demovsky

How a lot greater will the running recreation be?

The Vikings signed Latavius Murray, drafted Dalvin Cook and gave a blended $36.eight million to Riley Reiff and Mike Remmers, two tackles who will possible provide much more to the group as operate-blockers than they will as pass protectors. It really is all to correct a ground recreation that was the league’s worst very last time thanks in element to an inability to open up holes at the line of scrimmage. As the Vikings search for to make things easier for Sam Bradford, strengthening their running recreation will be a major priority. — Ben Goessling

NFC South

Who will get started at appropriate guard pursuing the retirement of Chris Chester?

Moving into camp, both of those Wes Schweitzer and Ben Garland are the prime candidates to fill Chester’s place. Falcons mentor Dan Quinn claimed nothing at all will be made a decision right until the group places the pads on and right until both of those Schweitzer and Garland get to play in preseason game titles. Schweitzer was inactive for each recreation very last time as a rookie, even though Garland’s main contribution in 2016 was as a defensive lineman. — Vaughn McClure

Can Cam Newton return to his 2015 MVP sort, or at minimum get shut to it?

The Panthers QB statistically had his worst time in 2016, and then he had operation in March to repair a partially torn rotator cuff in his throwing shoulder. Camp is the 1st authentic test for that. The Panthers have surrounded Newton with much more weapons, this sort of as 1st-spherical draft choose Christian McCaffrey, so he can rely on other playmakers as a substitute of carrying the load himself — particularly in the running recreation. How Newton performs will ascertain how significantly this group goes. — David Newton

Who will substitute Terron Armstead at left deal with?

Armstead will pass up at minimum fifty percent the time after injuring his shoulder in minicamp — a major blow considering the fact that he has emerged as just one of the league’s major young tackles. The Saints would love for 1st-spherical draft option Ryan Ramczyk to get the work in coaching camp. But the 32nd all round choose is an not known considering the fact that he played at Wisconsin for just just one 12 months and was nevertheless recovering from hip operation in arranged group activities and minicamp. He’ll compete with veterans Khalif Barnes and Bryce Harris. Andrus Peat, a 2015 1st-spherical choose, is also an solution, but mentor Sean Payton claimed the Saints would want to maintain Peat at left guard except their hand is pressured. — Mike Triplett

How a lot greater will Jameis Winston and the Bucs’ offense be with new weapons DeSean Jackson and O.J. Howard?

The Bucs had been twentieth in the league very last time in red zone scoring (TDs only), and it was a major position of emphasis this offseason. If they want to take things to the subsequent degree and perhaps knock off the New England Patriots and Eco-friendly Bay Packers this time, or even the Atlanta Falcons in their have division, the offense desires to score much more than twenty-22 details per recreation, and that is a reasonable possibility with a intelligent veteran in Jackson and a gifted rookie in Howard. — Jenna Laine

NFC West

Will the relaxation for the duration of OTAs, minicamp and coaching camp support quarterback Carson Palmer?

The early returns are, certainly, it really is supporting, but the true remedy will never be noticed right until halfway by the time, when Palmer’s arm has gone by the ringer of apply, recreation, relaxation … and repeat 8 much more times. Should his arm be rested and more healthy this time, it could be the launching position for the Cardinals to bounce again from a 7-eight-one time and return to the playoffs for the third time in 4 seasons. But if his arm does not answer to the relaxation around the class of a time, then Palmer’s time in the NFL could be gradually coming to an stop. — Josh Weinfuss

Los Angeles Rams

How a lot greater is Jared Goff?

Almost nothing issues much more to this franchise than that. The Rams moved up 14 spots to draft Goff No. one all round very last 12 months, but he in no way challenged for the commencing quarterback work for the duration of coaching camp and in no way received a recreation for the duration of the frequent time. His numbers by 7 starts off — fifty four.6 per cent completion level, five.three yards per try, five touchdowns, 7 interceptions and a 22.two Full QBR — had been dreadful. But a new coaching team, led by the offense-minded Sean McVay, and a comprehensive 12 months of NFL knowledge will certainly support. What seems to be an enhanced offensive line also will support. How a lot greater will Goff be in Calendar year two? The Rams are hoping it really is a large amount greater. — Alden Gonzalez

San Francisco 49ers

Will Reuben Foster be healthful and effective ample to get a commencing work?

The Niners have insisted all together that Foster’s surgically repaired shoulder would be ready to go by the get started of coaching camp, and there have been no indications if not considering the fact that the offseason program finished. Even assuming Foster is healthful, he figures to be in a restricted battle with veteran Malcolm Smith for the commencing weakside linebacker work. Smith has the knowledge and information of coordinator Robert Saleh’s defense to be the man early on, but it nevertheless feels like just a matter of time in advance of Foster techniques into the commencing lineup. — Nick Wagoner

Did Seattle do ample to address the offensive line?

Coach Pete Carroll and typical supervisor John Schneider are worn out of conversing about it, but the offensive line continues to be the greatest query mark on the group. A healthful Earl Thomas will support the defense bounce again. And a healthful Russell Wilson will give the offense a carry. But if the Seahawks can not protect him, they’ll be in trouble. Seattle signed Luke Joeckel to play left guard or left deal with, and the group drafted Ethan Pocic out of LSU in the 2nd spherical. But a lot of the progress with this team will be established by how a lot fellas this sort of as George Fant, Mark Glowinski and Germain Ifedi can strengthen in their young professions. — Sheil Kapadia

Resource connection

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captivesrp · 8 years ago

Photo

“Watch out below!”

Ffrewgí looks up and immediately, instinctively, presses himself against the side of the pit, his home for the past two days, as a shape drops suddenly in front of him.

A small girl crumples to the dirt. Ffrewgí stares in shock before his gaze moves slowly to his arms, flattened against the dirt of the pit wall. His useless arms. Almost to himself, he says, “I should have caught you!” as he rushes to the girl’s side. She does not respond as he tenderly turns her over and lifts her head. He can see the whites of her eyes through her cracked open eyelids.

“I am so sorry,” he whispers. He slips his arms around her and lifts her carefully, placing her down softly on his ‘bed’, a plot of dirt he has tilled to relative softness. He lifts her head and scoops loose dirt beneath it to form a pillow. Then he sits back and notices his racing heart. He breathes deeply.

“Well,” he muses to himself, “there is nothing to do but wait.”

Two hours later he checks her again, but her condition is unchanged. He considers calling for a witch, but does not know if there is one among the brigands---or if his call would be heard. He has been absolutely alone since Fuldryn had deposited him in the pit, though he knows he has been watched. His only tenuous contact with the outside world has been in the evenings, when a piece of chicken and a cube of cornbread are tossed into his pit, followed by a shovel---to bury his excrement, like a cat, he had been told the first night.

Ffrewgí sits back against the pit wall, trembling with weakness both mental and physical. “I’m eating better than I’d be, hunting for myself,” he mutters darkly, then shakes his head as if to banish the thought. He rests his head against the dirt behind him, staring up into the free air a spear’s-length above him.

* * *

“. . . bad luck too, huh.”

Ffrewgí comes blurringly awake, and jumps as he realizes he is not alone: a figure, a girl---the girl from earlier is sitting beside him. He relaxes. “I am glad to see you conscious,” he says with a warm smile.

The girl rests her head against the wall, her nearly-black hair splaying out and over her shoulders.

Ffrewgí stands. “I’m---” The blood rushes from his head, causing him to stagger. “I’m Ffrewgí,” he says, and bows politely in greeting.

The girl nods. “My lord.” She hesitates and then joins him on her feet. “Archora daughter of Adyrra, at your service.” Ffrewgí can see her conceal a smile.

“You’re making fun,” he says.

Archora’s dark eyes widen. “No, no! A formal greeting just caught me off guard, surrounded as we are by, uh,” she looks up at the pit mouth, “dirt and brigands.”

Ffrewgí’s heart sits heavily on his empty stomach. “It’s okay,” he says. “I probably deserve it.”

The girl ducks into his eye-line---though as short as she is she hardly needs to duck. “Buck up, Flurgy! You are very noble. I am sorry for laughing.”

Ffrewgí looks away. “It’s Ffrewgí.”

In his periphery he sees Archora drop onto a knee and strike a dramatic pose of surrender. “Ffrewgí, noble host, forgive me. I---” she looks up at Ffrewgí and relaxes her pose. Her eyes are genuine. “I am sorry, Ffrewgí. Sometimes I can’t help it---and . . .” she drops her gaze to the ground before looking back up, “and it felt good to smile. You are very kind.”

In the face of their misfortune, Ffrewgí cannot blame her for indulging in a little fun. “It’s okay,” he says, extending a hand. “Thanks, Arkora.” The name seems off even as he says it, but he cannot place the mistake.

Archora laughs, and then suddenly staggers backwards against the pit wall. A tear trickles from the corner of one of her eyes as she slowly opens them and looks at Ffrewgí. “Sorry, sorry,” she says, waving a hand. “It’s probably just your dialect. What tribe are you from?”

Before Ffrewgí can answer, Archora slides slowly to the ground to sit.

She says, “I’m just going to sit down.”

Ffrewgí sits in front of her, crossing his legs. “Did I say your name wrong? Are you okay?”

Archora gestures to her jaw, which is coloured with a huge bruise. “This ain’t war paint. And yeah, it’s ‘Ar-ch-ora’, with a bit of a guttural.”

Ffrewgí winces at the bruise. “Did they do that to you . . .” he commits despite the nervousness, “Argchoura?”

Archora giggles and shakes her head. Laughing, she says, “No. The witch was treating me from the edge of death when they came.” Ffrewgí watches tears that he suspects are not entirely from amusement trickle down her cheeks. “I hope they don’t need us for any heavy lifting.”

Ffrewgí does not know how to react as Archora continues to laugh. “I---I do . . . wonder why they have captured us,” he says, hoping to bring her down before she chokes, or something.

He does not get much more out of her that evening; with a couple words thrown into the mix she effectively laughs herself into unconsciousness.

When it is tossed in without announcement he sets a portion of their daily ration aside for when she wakes and wolfs his own half down quickly. Due to his nap or other reasons he staunchly but ineffectively refuses to acknowledge, sleep is long coming---

Oh, that extra food looks good.

* * *

Ffrewgí is awakened by the sounds of chewing. His stomach grumbles loudly, and Archora pauses her eating to look at him. “Sorry,” he says quietly.

The girl pops a final corner of cornbread into her mouth. “Was this half of your rations?” she asks after a thick swallow. “You are really noble.”

Ffrewgí shrugs, not correcting her and ashamed of it.

“I’ve never heard a name like yours before,” Archora says. She moves over to the wooden pail a pace from Ffrewgí’s left side. “This water’s okay, right?”

Ffrewgí nods. “It’s a bit muddy, but safe, I think.”

“Ffrewgí . . .” muses Archora, withdrawing her dripping face from the pail. “Are you an Yffewelden?”

Ffrewgí does not recognize the name. “No. I’m from the Celebres tribe.”

“Never heard of ’em,” says Archora, sitting on the opposite side of the water from Ffrewgí.

“We’re pretty small and relatively new, I guess.” Ffrewgí rises onto his knees and shuffles to the pail. He uses his hands to lift a few gulps of water to his mouth. “Only a fourth generation tribe---split from the Mculdre.”

“And the Mculdre were assimilated by the Refellwn and the Refellwn are the neighbour of the Breacalles and the Breacalles are a blood ally of the Woldens---that’s my tribe!” A smile brightens Archora’s face. “I guess storytellers really aren’t just for children.”

“The Mculdre were assimilated?”

Archora sends him a look. “How could you not know?”

“The Celebres were a nomadic tribe for a generation, so we lost touch.” Ffrewgí feels droplets of water drip from his chin to his shirt. He looks up at the mouth of the pit and tries to ignore the hollowness in his middle.

“Don’t you have storytellers? The ones we got would give ‘current events’ talks as often as they learned something new about the tribes.”

Ffrewgí shakes his head. “Our storytellers were just old people who told stories about their childhoods and the history of our tribe.”

Archora snorts. “Those aren’t storytellers. Storytellers are wanderers, adventurers, not connected to any tribe but connected to all of them!” She pauses. “Though, I guess, we had your kind of storyteller, too. Every village does.”

A woman appears in Ffrewgí’s view, approaching the edge of the pit with purpose. A male brigand joins her, standing up from where he had been sitting just out of view.

“How’re your charges?” the woman asks, not turning her eyes to her companion but studying Ffrewgí and Archora with an intelligent gaze.

“Quiet and inoffensive, Mistress.”

“Logain tells me the girl has energy.” Archora is frozen in the woman’s stare.

“Neither of them has moved much,” says the man.

“Keep an eye out, Bledig. That will be all.” The woman tosses her red hair over her shoulders and turns briskly, disappearing quickly from view.

Bledig remains still for a moment before pulling back his lips and whistling through his gap-toothed smile. He turns away and disappears as he sits back down. “Last day of pit duty,” comes his voice, then a sigh. “That’s nice.”

Ffrewgí looks at Archora, who shrugs. The ensuing silence is broken by Ffrewgí’s stomach, and he turns away to curl into a ball.

* * *

That night, Archora gives Ffrewgí half of the meat off her chicken leg and Ffrewgí accepts it.

“In return for your kindness,” she says.

Ffrewgí wishes he had actually earned such a return. He wishes he had had the pride to insist she finish her portion of the food on her own, but he had left his pride in that longhouse back at home---and that a tiny portion, not even substantial enough to avoid slipping through the gaps in the weave of his basket whenever he thinks back upon it.

His stomach grumbles.

#Ffrewgí #chapter three

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