#artificer!Killian
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The Thief of Time
HAPPY BIRTHDAY @optomisticgirl!! You are one of the loveliest and most supportive people in the fandom, a loving cat mom and brutal murderer who would die for a fictional plant and has the t-shirt to prove it. I am so, so honoured to have you as a friend ❤️❤️.
This fic came about because B sent me this post and I immediately said "Yep, Killian would be a wizard or an artificer." And B, unrepentant evildoer and witch!Emma's foremost fan, planted seeds in my head that would not stop growing. This is the result.
SUMMARY: Killian Jones, pirate-turned-artificer, has suffered blow after blow from life and all he wants is to go back to the past and make things right. If only he could get his bloody time machine to work.
Emma Swan, witch, has the ability to See through time and space and the responsibility to stand down any threats to either of them. When an artificer from 300 years ago in another realm devises a machine that could blow a hole straight through the multiverse, it’s her job to stop him.
What they find when they meet is an improbable connection, an understanding that bridges the distance between them. A distance that is in all practical ways insurmountable—by everything but love.
(And one very determined pirate-turned-artificer.)
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Words: <9k Rating: T Tags: magic au, witch!Emma, artificer!Killian, angst, Killian Jones is a sad boi, a dash of hurt/comfort, time travel, realm travel, HEA
AO3
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The Thief of Time:
Once upon a time there was an artificer.
He wasn’t much of an artificer, it must be said. Artificing, as everyone knows, requires patience, perseverance, and attention to detail, and while Killian Jones possessed a rock-solid stubbornness that stood in well for perseverance as well as a fine eye for detail, patience—at least when it came to tedious, laborious tasks—was not among his strengths.
This is perhaps why, on the particular bright morning when his life changed forever, Killian could be found in his workshop surrounded by shards of glass and a puddle of pale brown liquid oozing through his floorboards that until a moment before had been a bottle of rum. Until Killian, in a surge of frustration at yet another failure, had flung it furiously at the wall.
The rum bottle had been a more or less innocent bystander, a casualty of proximity, a stand-in for the machine that sat on a rickety table in the centre of the hut that served as Killian’s workshop—a machine that continued nonchalantly failing to function even after the rum bottle had met its tragic fate.
It was almost, thought Killian, as though the device didn’t care how many bottles came to an untimely end, it still had no intention of ever working.
He held out his hand with fingers curled like talons and let it hover menacingly over the machine before tightening it into a fist and shaking it. “I should bloody well smash you to bits,” he growled. “I should—”
He had no real idea of what he should do, beyond demolishing the bloody thing, heaving its carcass into the sea, and abandoning this foolhardy plan for good and all. It hardly mattered, though, as the machine made no reply—not so much as a tick of motion to indicate that it cared in the slightest about its own fate. Killian gritted his teeth and with effort reined in his temper. He reached for another rum bottle—there were always plenty standing by—and groped for a moment before he remembered he had the awl attachment connected to his brace and grabbed the bottle with his hand instead.
The bottle was stoppered with a tenuous scrap of cork; this Killian gripped between his teeth and dislodged with an expert twist of his neck, then spat it at the machine and watched as it struck the hammered copper facing with a satisfying thunk. He took the bottle to the porch of his hut—‘porch’ being the word with which he flattered the platform of weatherbeaten boards raised on hunks of driftwood—collapsed into the hammock strung across the corner of it and stared out to sea with the rum bottle cradled in his lap.
Tropical sun beat down on the shack and on the swaying palms that shaded it, and on the stretch of white beach that curved beyond it, and on the azure water glistening beneath the blazing sky. A tumbledown shack on a lonely atoll was not, so Killian had been given to understand, generally the sort of place in which most artificers chose to set up shop. They preferred tiny rooms atop winding staircases in tall university towers, so he was told, or for the more eccentric among them perhaps an derelict castle or even a dark forest hut. Somewhere close and damp and chill, where they could work by artful firelight draped in hooded cloaks and tuck the secrets of their craft safely away amongst the shadows.
Killian cared very little for such things, however, as he was not most artificers. He wasn’t, as has already been remarked, much of an artificer at all. A sailor by blood, a naval man by training, and a pirate by circumstance, this was Killian Jones. And now an artificer, by desperate last resort.
He took a long swig from his bottle and glared at the sea, at the ship that bobbed gently on the waves, anchored just to the left in the atoll’s curving bay. If he had any sense he’d end this foolishness, he thought with a bitter twist of his lip. He’d take his ship and find himself a crew, sail off and vent his frustrations on royal cargo vessels and navy frigates rather than haphazardly assembled collections of wood and scrap metal that would certainly never do more than than sit there smugly not working, taunting him, and—
Click.
Killian froze, with every muscle in his body. He waited. And waited. And—
Click.
Again. Killian exhaled slowly, cursing the faint vibrations of his breath in the air. He waited. And waited. And—
Click.
Click.
Click.
It was working.
—
A week later and Killian’s temper once again was hanging by the barest thread; the click of the device that had at first spurred him on now plucked at the frayed edges of his nerves and rattled inside his head each time he tried to focus. It was clicking, the mechanism was turning over, he had everything he’d thought he needed but still an element was missing, something vital that he couldn’t put his finger on, that hovered just at the edge of his perception like some fey spirit sent to taunt him.
Maybe you should just give up.
Killian spun around at the sound of the voice, a woman’s voice, with a wry tone and an unfamiliar accent. His eyes scanned the empty room. “Who’s there?” he called out, though it was plain to see no one was there. He was alone.
Quite alone.
He knew he was alone, of course, though the tingle between his shoulder blades did not concur, and remained even when he turned his attention back to his work. The sensation of being watched by unseen eyes is frequently a distracting one, but Killian stubbornly disregarded it and focused on his task. The sensation persisted.
He worked doggedly for several minutes, then set down his tools. “Lass,” he said to the room at large, “it’s bad form to stare.”
He swore he heard a chuckle.
“I do understand how it can be difficult for women to take their eyes off a devilishly handsome rapscallion such as myself,” Killian continued, “but I’m trying to work here so if you wouldn’t mind…”
He turned back to his workbench and as he did his elbow struck the edge of it, knocking over his latest rum bottle and sending a shooting pain up his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut and spat a stream of vicious curses and very nearly stabbed himself with the awl before recalling that he had no hand with which to cradle the afflicted elbow and rub away the pain. When it finally subsided and he opened his eyes once more, the sight that met them had him swearing a new and even bluer streak.
His device now sat bathed in a pool of rum, with sparks shooting from behind its copper face and very ominously not clicking. With a snarl Killian slammed his fist down on the table and ground it into the wood. He’d have to mop up the rum and wait at least a day or two to be certain whatever had seeped into the mechanism was completely dried before attempting to open it again to determine whether he could repair the damage. If he couldn’t he’d have to start over.
Or you could just give up.
“Are you responsible for this?” he demanded of the voice. “At long bloody last I was on the right track, and now—now—” He slammed his fist into his workbench again, sending rum droplets flying.
Look, don’t get cranky, mister. I’m just trying to stop you doing something stupid.
“Oh?” Killian snarled. “Is that what you’re doing? You’re a bit bloody late.”
What?
“I’ve done many a stupider thing than this, unhindered by any disembodied voices. You couldn’t have stopped me doing any of them?”
I—
“Where were you, for example, when I lost my brother in a cursed land, travelled back from that land, and then in a fit of rage burned the only method I had of returning there?” he demanded. “Where were you when I threw away my naval career, stole my brother’s ship, and led her crew into piracy? Where were you when I ravaged the land of my birth? Where were you when I fell in love with—” he broke off with a choking sound, then sat with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at his hand and at the leather brace where its twin should be. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this aloud,” he murmured, “you’re not truly here.” He ran his hand over his face then through his hair. “Perhaps I’m finally going mad. It’s an occupational hazard, or so I’ve been told.”
A breeze rustled through the shack, gentle and soothing. It whispered across his skin in what could only be called a caress. Despite himself, Killian felt comforted.
I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. The voice’s compassion was undoubtedly genuine. But I couldn’t have prevented those things. They were not my business to See.
“And this is?” Killian demanded.
Yes.
He shook his head. “Who are you?”
There was no reply. The soothing breeze was gone, leaving the late afternoon air heavier and more still in its absence. His neck no longer tingled. He was alone. Again.
Always.
Killian pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed, then grabbed a fresh bottle of rum—plus a second, upon further consideration—and headed out of the shack. Headed to the rowboat and the Jolly Roger, and, with any luck, a drunken stupor that would last until he could work on the device again.
“Hear this, lass,” he murmured as he paused in the doorway. “I will be back. I’m not giving up.”
We’ll see about that, whispered the voice, once he was gone.
—
Three days later and Killian’s hangover throbbed between his eyes, but his device was dry and in a less disastrous state than he’d feared. He tapped the magical stone that powered the mechanism until it sparked sharply in response, reconnected a few fine filaments of copper, snapped the gears back into place and held his breath.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Killian exhaled. It was still working.
Sort of.
He sat at his workbench and glared at the device, as though intensity alone could help him see what was missing in it. When it did not, he reached into his satchel with a long-suffering sigh, and withdrew a book.
He really should have gone to the books first. That’s what the other artificers had advised. Research before experimentation, a solid foundation of scholarship on which to build. In another life another Killian would have listened too, would have loved the prospect of hours, days, weeks spent in a library, absorbing the wondrous knowledge that it held. But that eager boy had long been lost, and the man who remained had spent too many years in wasted endeavours, hunting elusive magic beans and fairy wands, anything he heard of that he thought might aid his quest. When every lead he could scrounge all came to nothing he’d had no choice but to alter his course, and no bloody time to start from the beginning and do the thing properly. He’d already wasted so much time.
But perhaps, he conceded now, that had been a mistake.
The book had a weighty heft that testified its age, as did the brilliance of the jewelled ink on its vellum pages. Modern books with their rag-paper and plant inks were lighter, more fragile, less vibrant. Cheaper to produce of course, and more accessible, but the earnest, bespectacled scholar that still lived in Killian’s heart found them far more difficult to love. This book had been scribed centuries ago, by the hand of a monk whose name had long since vanished into time but whose skill was evident in the carefully crafted words and illustrations, the diagrams of fantastical devices that he had seen only with the eyes of his mind, never in reality.
Killian traced his finger over the lines of an engraving, squinting through his headache and the glaring sunshine to make out the tiny words that labelled it. With painstaking strokes he massaged his temples and let himself fall into the book, lost in study for the first time in many a year.
The hours sifted away like sand through his fingers, until a soft breeze ruffled through his hair and he became aware of that telltale tingle at the nape of his neck.
“Lass,” he said wryly, “has no one ever told you it’s rude to read over a person’s shoulder?”
It’s the only way I can find out what you’re up to.
“And just what prescisely makes that any of your concern?”
It just is. I can See it.
Though he could not have said how, Killian was certain she didn’t mean the sort of seeing one did with one’s eyes.
“So tell me then, what do you make of my choice of reading material?” he inquired.
Seems a bit dry.
He chuckled. “It is at that. But useful.”
You’re still planning to go ahead with it, then?
“I am. As I told you before, I don’t intend to give up.” A sharp smile flashed through his memory, the smell of sea salt on skin and in wind-whipped chestnut curls. His fist clenched. “I can’t.”
The breeze swirled up around him, wrapped itself about his shoulders in the gentlest embrace, and for a moment—just a moment—Killian let go. Let himself be comforted. Let himself relax. Tears prickled behind his eyes and his tired heart sighed. He swallowed hard.
You won’t find what you seek in this book, said the voice. Not what you really seek.
“Perhaps not. But it’s all I have left.”
Without warning the soft breeze stiffened, whipping up with force behind it and sending a half-full rum bottle teetering dangerously—but if Killian was prepared for anything these days it was betrayal. He caught the bottle before it could fall and set it safely aside, away from his device and his book and anything else that had the potential to be harmed by it.
“Nice try,” he sneered. The wind huffed a frustrated sigh.
This isn’t over.
“Why are you so determined to see me fail?” he demanded, but the words fell flat in the still and empty air—the absent prickle on the back of Killian’s neck informed him that she was gone again. “It’s not like I need any extra assistance in that area,” he grumbled. “I can fail perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”
He bent to pick up the rum—a drink to soothe the ache in his heart—when his gaze caught on a diagram he hadn’t spotted before. He frowned and leaned closer, the rum forgotten, and began to read again. Soon he was absorbed once more, his eyes voracious as they scanned the pages. He made notes in the margins as he read, and tiny drawings and equations, and muttered half-formed thoughts to accompany the scratching of his pen. The clicks from his device soothed him now with their regular beat, and the tingle between his shoulder blades, when it returned, did not so much as register in his mind... though it lingered there as he worked, as the afternoon waned, until the sun began to sink below the horizon and Killian packed up his notes and his book and not his rum, and made his way back to his ship.
—
The next day found him in his workshop early, his mood uncharacteristically bright. He’d awoken that morning without a hangover for the first time in far longer than he cared to remember; the resulting clear head and sharp senses made the bright sunlight less oppressive in his perception, less like its exuberance was a judgement on his choices. Even his shack appeared cheerier than he recalled it, quaint rather than run-down, its slight slump to the left charming and not at all ominous. Killian was dangerously close to whistling a merry tune as he approached it, with his satchel slung over his shoulder and heavy with books.
He had brand new ideas to test.
His workshop itself consisted of the shack’s lone room and a single, long table that sat at the centre of it. On the table was his device, looking right at home there in the sense that it too was rickety, haphazardly constructed, and pitched to the left. Killian had told himself that the appearance of the thing didn’t matter so long as it functioned, but after it failed for so long to do even that he had begun to treat its exterior as a sort of whipping boy for his frustrations. The wooden casing bore deep gouges from his hook and other implements he’d attached to his brace; the copper facing was tarnished and dented. Hairline fractures criss-crossed the glass that covered the three small dials on the front and the long copper pole that was meant to be attached to the rear casing sat forlornly in a corner, looking as though it would dearly love the ability to rust, just as a way to express its feelings on the situation.
Looking at his device for the first time with clear eyes, Killian found that he felt rather bad. He really had made a dreadful hash of it. And although Killian Jones was frequently reckless, sometimes rash, and from time to time even a bit unhinged, he had never before been incompetent. Making a firm mental note to pick up some new materials the next time he made a supply run, he hefted the satchel onto his worktable, seated himself on the bench before it, and removed a book from the bag.
If he’d had two hands, he would have rubbed them together in glee.
Whatcha reading?
She appeared so suddenly that the prickle on his neck didn’t even have time to warn him. “I’m certain you can see the title for yourself, from wherever you are,” he replied.
Arithmetical Principles of the Mechanics of Time? Not very snappy.
“Never judge a book by its title, love.”
I thought that was by its cover.
“Title’s on the cover, isn’t it?”
So it is.
The voice sounded amused, and Killian chuckled to himself as he settled in to read. The tingle on the back of his neck remained as the unseen woman read along with him. He could feel her presence there, her eyes on him and on the book as he made his customary notes in the margins: quick diagrams and calculations and questions he would need to answer before he could proceed.
He was astonished to discover how engrossing the book was and how easy it was to lose himself in its pages, just as he had done the day before. How long had it been before then, since he’d allowed himself the luxury of a full day spent reading? Years, certainly. Time and tides, as the saying goes, wait for no man, and nor do rival pirate captains or deep-sea hellbeasts—they certainly do not wait for a man to finish his chapter before launching their attacks. Lazy days like this one took him back to his time in the naval academy, the long afternoons in the library there, the wonder he’d felt at all the knowledge contained in the books that surrounded him. An entire realm at his fingertips, just waiting for him to explore.
He had explored it in actuality years later on his ship, sailing her to the edge of the maps and beyond, but that first exposure to all the wonders the world held still shone as a jewel in his memory. For a young boy who until that moment had known only abandonment, drudgery, and abuse, the discovery that the world was far, far larger than he could ever have dreamt had been an invaluable treasure.
You love books.
Killian started; the voice sounded different now. It no longer echoed in his head, instead it seemed to come from somewhere to his right. He turned, and as he did perceived a shimmering in the hazy air, one that disappeared the moment he looked directly at it.
“I did,” he replied. “Once.” His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Are you in my head, then, lass? Reading my thoughts?”
Of course not. It’s just obvious from your face.
“You’re familiar with the expression I’m wearing then, I take it? Perhaps because you’re inclined to wear it yourself?”
It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to hit its mark. The shimmer grew more solid.
I—I’ve always loved to read. When I was a child it was all I had.
Something in the tone, a wistfulness perhaps, struck a chord in Killian. “You were alone, as child,” he said. “The books were your refuge.”
Yes.
Silence stretched for a moment, then he spoke again. “When I first arrived at the naval academy I could barely read,” he said slowly. “I was twelve years old. Where I come from literacy is a privilege of the wealthy, which my family was certainly not, but my mother’s father had been educated and he taught her to read and write. He was the younger son of a nobleman, disowned when he fell in love with a village girl. My mother in turn taught my father and also my elder brother. She had started to teach me as well but she grew ill and I was still so young, and then…” He trailed off, choked by the decades-old memory that still had the power to wound.
Then she died.
The voice was soft, so soft, and it settled around his shoulders like a blanket. He nodded. “Aye. She did.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes, just briefly, then continued. “After she passed, Liam, my brother, took over with my lessons, but there was never much time for such things. We were cabin boys on a large merchant ship by then, worked most days from dawn to dusk—but in what moments we had, we did try.” He shook his head. “Liam did the best he could, though our resources were so scarce his efforts produced little result. I was years behind the other lads my age at the academy at first, something they found highly entertaining.”
But you didn’t let that stop you.
“I did not,” he agreed. “Instead it spurred me on. In less than a year I had matched them, and in a year surpassed them. It was satisfying to make them eat their words, but in truth that was not my motivation.”
You wanted to know a world beyond the one you lived in.
“I wanted to know a world beyond the one I lived in.” He smiled at her, at the shimmering air in the corner of his eye that he almost fancied formed the shape of a woman. “As, I imagine, did you.”
Mmm.
Killian quirked an eyebrow at the shimmer. “Another orphan, I gather?” he pressed. “Alone in the world, unable to see a way out? Escaping into books for adventure, for a sense of the potential that lay beyond the narrow parameters of your life?”
You read me pretty well for someone who can’t even see me.
“You’re something of an open book, darling. If that metaphor isn’t too on the nose.” And perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t necessary to see someone to know them.
Faint laughter rang through the room. Open books read both ways, Killian Jones, her voice whispered, and then she was gone.
“Touché,” he muttered, as the tingle in his neck faded and a wave of magic pulsed in the air. A sharp snapping noise sounded from the device, followed by an echoing boingggg. Killian’s lips twitched. Softness followed by sabotage was becoming rather a thing with her.
He opened the casing and after a moment’s poking around in the mechanism identified the target of her attack—a small coupling in the box responsible for managing temporal currents. Killian felt himself grin. He was certain his unseen nemesis wouldn’t trouble herself to destroy anything that wasn’t crucial to the functioning of the device. He turned back to his book and flipped to the section on temporal flow.
“Thanks for the tip, love,” he murmured to the empty air.
—
Over the next month Killian worked doggedly on his research, leaving the device untouched and himself unhindered by tingles or voices or shimmery thickenings of the air. He read every book in his rather considerable collection, all the texts he’d… liberated from the universities and private collections of the realm’s best artificers then barely glanced into before he began constructing his device. He took a week off for a supply run, to collect the materials and bric-a-brac he’d need to construct the thing properly along with even more books, which he read eagerly at night on his ship, greedily absorbing the knowledge they contained as he lounged in his bunk.
Every day he thought about the voice, and about the very real woman he now felt certain was behind it. She wasn’t just a voice in his head, a symptom of madness or loneliness, or both. She existed, he had felt her, though he had never seen her face. He’d felt her presence and the connection between them—a peculiar sort of connection to be sure, but no less genuine for it.
The thought of speaking to her again helped spur him on.
Once he was back his workshop armed with resources in the form of both knowledge and supplies, he threw himself into a flurry of activity. He constructed shelves for his books, so he would not have to lug them to and from his ship every day. He built a sturdier workbench, with drawers to hold his tools, and a new, robust and polished casing and face for his device.
This was close work, requiring dexterity and concentration and the careful application of several magical items that had previously seemed to go out of their way to thwart him. As it turned out, Killian reflected wryly, he had simply been using them wrong. He still made mistakes, of course, and his lack of hand still proved a challenge. But gradually he found that he lost his temper less and less, that as he grew more knowledgeable and skilled he did not give in so easily or so frequently to despair.
He had almost entirely stopped drinking.
He spent a full week tweaking and refining the temporal current regulator in his device, until he was satisfied that not only near impervious to any further sabotage but also featured a clever adjustment of his own devising. Take that, Other Artificers.
He had done it. He knew he had. He had built his device and built it well. It would work now, and not because he threatened it or stumbled by happenstance upon the proper configuration. It would work because he knew what he was doing, and this time he’d done it right.
Killian Jones, artificer.
—
The stage was set.
The device was ready. More than ready. Its polished wood casing gleamed in the playful caress of the afternoon sunlight, which shimmered also off its copper facing and the smooth glass of its dials. The copper tube came up from where it was attached to the rear of the device and curved over the top of it, ending in a wide opening directly over Killian’s head. The rhythmic click of the mechanism was smooth and sonorous, each coupling attached and every gear well-oiled.
Click, went the device, tremulous and eager.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Every last thing was in readiness. Killian had only to flip the switch.
“You don’t want to do that.”
He paused with his finger poised above the small brass switch and smiled. “Back again, lass?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
The floorboards creaked, under boots that were not his. Leather rustled. Killian froze, then spun around. His jaw dropped.
“Bloody hell,” he gasped.
The woman stood in the centre of his workshop with her hands on her hips and lips curved in a wry smirk. Loose golden waves tumbled over her shoulders to frame an exquisite, fine-boned face and eyes that glinted green. She was dressed... well, she was dressed as no woman he’d ever seen before, in tall boots and tight-fitting trousers with no overskirt to cover them, and a leather jacket in the most outrageous shade of red. Killian blinked.
“You’re—I’m—what?” he choked.
“I said, you don’t want to do that,” she repeated. “If you do, you’ll blow a hole in the universe or—or something, I don’t exactly know. But it’s bad, and I can’t allow it to happen.”
Killian shook his head. He blinked again, harder this time, then rubbed his eyes. The woman was still there.
“What?” he shouted.
“Seriously?” snapped the woman. “You heard my voice in your head and didn’t even blink and I know you felt my presence. But now I’ve actually manifested and suddenly you’re at a loss for words? I thought at least I’d get some kind of smartass quip out of you. ‘At last a face to match the voice, lass’ or something.” She shrugged a single shoulder. “I don’t know. Something.”
“That’s—” Killian’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s your idea of a clever quip?”
She scowled. “Look, I said I don’t know. You’re the smartass.”
“Well you might at least give a man a minute to adjust his premises before you start demanding cleverness from him, when you appear from out of nowhere in his workshop,” retorted Killian. “There is in fact a world of difference between voices in the head and full fledged hallucinations, you know.”
“I’m not a hallucination,” she huffed.
Killian knew that of course, but he still felt on rather shaky ground, metaphysically speaking. “Well what are you then?” he demanded.
“I’m a manifestation,” she replied, as though it were obvious.
“Oh yes of course,” he shot back. “A manifestation, how foolish of me not to have known that.”
She rolled her eyes. He smirked.
“A manifestation of whom, precisely, if I might enquire?” he drawled.
“Emma Swan,” she proclaimed, in a tone one might use to announce the arrival of a queen. “Witch.”
Killian regarded her with his smirk firmly in place, to which he now added a raised eyebrow. “A witch, you say?”
“Yep.”
“Indeed.”
She sauntered over to his workbench, hips swaying in a manner that Killian told himself firmly he did not find enticing, and leaned over, peering at the device. “This looks a lot better than the last time I saw it,” she remarked.
“Yes, well, I’ve been working hard since then.”
“I can tell.” She flashed him a look that had his muscles tensing. “Too bad it’s all for nothing.”
“What the bloody hell is that supposed—”
“Why do you want to travel in time anyway?” she interrupted, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a risky business, you know. Loads of people have tried and it never ends well for any of them.”
“That’s rather a bold statement from you, love, considering you are clearly not from this time,” he retorted.
“What makes you say that?”
Killian let his gaze sweep over her. “Red leather jackets aren’t exactly in vogue here,” he said loftily. “I’d be very surprised if they even exist. How did you get it to be that colour?”
“How the hell should I know, I didn’t make it!”
“Fair enough. Still stands out like a sore thumb, though.”
“Well it’s a good thing I’m not staying then.”
“Aren’t you?” Killian felt a twist in his gut at that; he was so enjoying sparring with her. “Shame. I suppose you ought to run along then, and let me get back to my work.”
“Ah, no. That I can’t do.”
“And might I enquire why not?”
Her expression, which had been sparking with the same joy of snarky battle that Killian felt himself, grew solemn. “If you’re successful then the repercussions of your work will echo all the way into my realm, in my time,” she said. “And I can’t allow that to happen.”
“Indeed?” he taunted, before he could prevent himself. “And just how do you propose to stop it?”
Her eyes flashed. “Oh you are so going to regret asking that.”
She raised her hand and twisted it, the merest flick of her wrist that sent a powerful pulse of energy through the room. He felt it throb through his body and he was rocked by its wave. What followed was silence.
Silence. No clicks. Not a one.
Killian spun round in fury and glowered down at Emma Swan, witch, who did not so much as flinch away from him. On the contrary, she appeared quite pleased with herself, and thoroughly unfazed by his very finest pirate snarl.
“I’ve never managed that so successfully cross-realms before,” she remarked.
Killian’s temper snapped. “What the bloody buggering fuck do you think you’re doing?” he roared. Her nonchalance was infuriating.
“I told you,” she reminded him coolly. “I can’t allow you to succeed.”
“I wasn’t succeeding, though, was I?” he hissed. “I’ve been not succeeding for the best part of a year now.”
“I know.” Her smug expression softened into an empathy that set his teeth on edge. “But that was about to change.”
“Oh was it?”
“Yep.”
He knew it was. But she... “And how the bloody hell could you possibly know that?”
“I told you, I’m a witch.”
He scoffed. “Is that supposed to impress me?”
“Well... yeah, I guess it kind of is.” She frowned. “You know what a witch is, right?”
“Of course I do. A witch is a person, most commonly a female, who is possessed of magical or supernatural powers, typically focused on medicine, the body, nature, and the spirit,” Killian recited.
Emma blinked. “That’s… very precise.”
“I’m well versed in defining the various types and levels of magical practitioner,” he informed her. His surge of anger was draining away and he found he lacked both the energy and will to hold on to it. “The Guild is most insistent that registration be precise.”
“Guild?” Her frown deepened. “Registration?”
“Aye. To both.”
“You had to register? With a guild?”
“I did.”
“Register as what?”
“As an artificer, of course. Despite my lack of skill in the discipline, the Guild insisted. Firmly. Fists were involved.”
“I—see.” Her lips twitched. “That seems unethical.”
He barked a laugh. “Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, love.”
Emma’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. “Is that where this is?”
“Aye. Though strictly speaking this”—he gestured at the space around them—“is on an atoll in the Far Southern Sea. But the Artificers’ Guild is in the Enchanted Forest, and they care very little for such things as venue or jurisdiction.” He looked at her curiously. “Didn’t you know?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m not really here, you see.”
Killian had been so caught up first in wonder then in fury that he hadn’t truly looked at her, at least not beyond what was required to note her striking beauty and odd attire. A manifestation, she had called herself, and once he knew what to look for it was plain to see—the faint translucence and hazy outline of her form. Cautiously, he reached out his hand. It went right through her shoulder, with no more resistance than water in a bathtub.
“Huh,” he said. “Curious. So where exactly are you then, Emma Swan, witch, if you’re not here?”
“I’m…” Emma’s brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled. Killian told himself sternly that it was unwise to find a nose adorable when it sat on the face of the corporeal manifestation of a witch from an unspecified realm. “Well, I don’t really know how to describe it,” she said. “I’m on Earth. About three hundred years in your future. Though I suppose this must be Earth too, really.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. I think so? What do you call it? This… place. Bigger than the Enchanted Forest. You… you know there’s a place bigger, right? Beyond the, um, the forest?”
His lip quirked. Her stumbling attempts to explain were also not adorable. “That I do, lass,” he replied. “I spent years sailing the seas of this realm and have travelled to many a land.”
“You’ve travelled the Earth, then,” said Emma. “Or your equivalent of it. What would you call it?”
“Terra, I believe is what you mean.”
“Yes!” She snapped her fingers then pointed the index one at him. “That’s got to be it!”
“So if I understand you, you’re saying you come from Terra as well, but a different version of it, which you call Earth?”
She gave an eager nod. “Yeah, basically. My Earth was called Terra once too, by people who lived in my past, in a different country. But in my language and my time and my country we say Earth.”
“I... see,” said Killian.
“Yeah.” Emma looked a bit sheepish and waved her hand in a vague arc. “It’s a whole thing with multiverses I don’t really understand, if I’m honest. I’m not a wizard, you see.”
“No indeed. Nor I.”
“Well, I mean, you’re not even much of an artificer. Or at least not until recently.”
She was attempting to tease, he could tell. To keep the mood light between them. But all he could hear was the death knell of his last resort, the only hope he had left of honouring his vow. Without warning, the weight of everything he’d been through, a lifetime of struggle and defeat culminating in his attempt to build a time machine that would apparently destroy multiple realms were it allowed to succeed, settled on his shoulders. It was all he could do not to collapse beneath it. He sank down onto the bench and ran his hand down his face.
“No. That I certainly am not.”
He sensed rather than felt Emma sit down beside him—there was barely more than a shift in the air to mark her movement.
“I’m not an artificer, not even now,” he told her, staring at his hand and brace. “All I am is a desperate man looking to right a terrible wrong.”
“A wrong you need to go back in time to fix?” she asked gently.
“Aye.”
“What happened?”
Killian clenched his jaw. He did not wish to discuss Milah. He never actually had, though others besides Emma had tried to make him, insisting he would feel better if he spoke of it. If he gave vent to his anger and his grief. But he could not—the words caught in his throat each time he tried, stopped by the anger that sat hard and curdled in his chest.
“There was… a woman,” he ground out, faintly astonished to hear the words fall from his lips. “I loved her and she me, but she was married to another. A cringing coward of a man who valued his own comfort and meagre security above her happiness and her health.” He breathed slowly through the anger that still rose up at the thought of it. “She tried her best with him, for years she tried, but ultimately she came to realise that he would never change. She saw the remainder of her life stretched out before her, a grim slog through a grey world of misery, and she knew she had to do something, whatever was necessary to change it. For the sake of her own survival.” He risked a glance at Emma. “But she was a woman, thus her options were limited.”
“So she ran away with you,” said Emma. He searched her face for judgment, but there was none.
He nodded. “She ran away with me.”
“You saved her life,” she said harshly. “But you shouldn’t have had to.”
He blinked, startled at her tone, and watched as her face grew tight with anger. “In my land and my time, women have choices,” she hissed. “We have to fight for them every day, but we have them. We can leave marriages and we can have jobs and we can own our own houses and have our own lives. We don’t rely on men unless we choose to.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s not the case here?”
“You guess correctly.” Killian’s voice was choked, his chest drawn tight by the depth of her compassion. Compassion for a woman she’d never met, who had died long before her time. He cleared his throat. “Milah had nowhere to go and no means to go there. I offered her an escape. It was all I could do.”
A moment passed before Emma spoke again.
“What went wrong?” she asked.
His lip curled. “I expect you can guess.”
He could sense the catch in her breath, though it made no sound in the quiet room. “Her husband found you?”
“Aye. Rather a predictable storyline, isn’t it? But there's an unpleasant twist to this tale, I fear.”
“What twist?” she demanded.
Killian swallowed. “Have you heard of the Dark One?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, yes. I’ve read the lore of course, but… are you saying the Dark One is real?”
“Very much so.”
He watched as comprehension dawned in her eyes. “And he—your—Milah’s husband—”
“Had become the Dark One, aye. At the cost of his soul, of course, but for some men that's a small price to pay to punish an errant wife.”
“Wow. I mean—wow.”
“I’m not familiar with that particular expression but it certainly seems to suit the case,” said Killian drily. “Wow indeed.”
“He murdered her, didn’t he?” Emma said, in a voice like the lash of a whip. It was not a question.
“On the deck of my ship,” Killian replied, “as I watched, helpless to prevent it. He tore her heart from her chest and he crushed it to dust.” He held up his brace, catching the sunlight on the curve of his hook. “And then he took my hand.”
Emma exhaled, long and slow. “So that’s why you want to go back. To stop her murder.”
This was also not a question, but he answered it nonetheless. “Aye. I promised to protect her and I failed. I have to make it right.”
“You know you can’t do that, Killian.”
The empathy in her voice, the understanding, the way she said his name… Killian’s anger rose again and he snapped at her. “Well not now that you’ve destroyed my bloody time machine!”
“You couldn’t have anyway.”
“And just how the devil—”
“Look, I told you, I’m not a wizard,” said Emma insistently. She shifted on the bench until she was facing him fully, one leg tucked beneath the other. “I don’t know all the ins and outs of how the universe works, or like, the multiverse or whatever. All I know is that if you turn on that machine it will blow a hole in all of it. Every realm and at every time would be destroyed. It would end the world.”
Killian scowled as his mind sought frantically for a loophole, a counterpoint, a way. His fist was tightly clenched and pressed hard against his thigh, his breathing shallow. “The books said—”
“The books don’t know,” she interrupted in that same insistent tone. “No one’s ever done this before. No one’s ever even come close.”
“And here I thought I wasn’t much of an artificer,” he sneered.
“Like I said before. You weren’t.”
Killian thought of all the reading he’d done, the careful cross-referencing of books that likely had never before been seen by the same pair of eyes. He thought of his temporal current regulator, the refinements he’d made to it. How certain he was that it would work.
He looked over at Emma to find her watching him, with gentle sympathy and not a hint of pity. “You can’t go back, Killian,” she said softly. “The past has already happened. All you can do is go forward.”
“So what you’re telling me is I need to move on,” he snarled. How he loathed that expression.
She nodded. “In more ways than one.”
Cautiously she reached out and placed her hand over his clenched fist, and though he could not feel her touch he felt it, the warmth of her compassion and her strength and her magic, drawn from another realm in another time. He let his hand relax and held it, palm up, beneath hers. He drew a deep, unsteady breath and then released it. Then he drew another.
They sat in silence for some time.
“I can’t recall the last time I considered what Milah would think if she could see what I was doing,” said Killian, finally, in a low voice. “I thought about her all the time, at first. But then… it got to the point where every time thoughts of her came into my head I would drink them straight out of it.”
“Because you knew that if she could see you she wouldn’t like what she saw.”
“Because I knew that if she could see me she wouldn’t like what she saw,” he echoed. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to lose myself in this—obsession. But then I have always been prone to obsession and she knew that better than anyone.”
“Obsession is just another word for intense dedication,” declared Emma, “once you add a bit of healthy perspective to it. It’s sincere devotion to what you value. Maybe all you need is just to shift your focus a bit. Find something new to work on, and another motivation to drive you.”
“Something new,” he repeated, then gave a hoarse, choking laugh. “I confess I’ve no idea what that could be.”
“You’ll find something.” The look in her eyes as she watched him was amused, wry, soft, and sad all at once. An odd sensation twisted in his chest. “I wish—” she began, then broke off with a shake of her head.
Killian realised their hands were still clasped. He wished he could close his fingers around hers, truly feel the touch of them against his skin. “What do you wish, love?” he pressed.
She shook her head again. “It’s just—after today I won’t be able to See you anymore. Once you’re no longer a threat you’ll stop appearing in my visions. I just wish I could watch what you do next, that’s all." She flashed him a grin. "I have a feeling it’ll be something epic.”
He laughed and after a moment she joined him, with a tinkling, joyous sound that made his heart feel lighter than perhaps it ever had. Maybe she was right, he thought. Maybe he could do something different. Something not driven by loss or anger or greed. “I don’t know if I can promise epic,” he told her. “But I do promise I'll do something. Something important to me. I promise you, Emma Swan.”
She smiled, gorgeous and heartbreaking. “Good.”
Killian could swear he felt her hand tightening on his, felt it in the echoing squeeze in his chest. He heard her next words before she spoke them.
“I have to go.”
He forced himself to nod. “I know.”
She reached up with her free hand and traced her fingertips across his cheek. “Goodbye, Killian Jones,” she whispered… and then she was gone.
Killian sat alone in his workshop with an empty hand and a silent machine, and a brand new ache in his heart. And for the very first time in a life full of loss, he allowed himself to grieve.
—
Killian didn’t drink.
He wanted to. The rum called to him, a siren’s song of numb oblivion, but that was a pit into which he no longer wished to fall. He had things to do now, crucial things, and they required a clear head.
He took the Jolly Roger and he sailed away, far across the seas to a place he'd sworn he’d never go again. The small port village where Milah had lived, and where she’d died. Whose harbour he’d put at his bow for less than an hour before he’d tipped her body into the depths of the sea.
It was the nearest thing he had to a gravestone.
He stood on the deck with his hand on the railing, staring down into the choppy waves below. His throat ached and his chest felt tight.
“I’m so sorry, Milah,” he whispered. “Sorry that I failed in my promise to protect you. Sorry that when I lost you I lost myself as well. I let myself fall so deeply into despair that I lost sight of who I was—and in doing so I sacrificed the man you loved. I’m sorry I became something you’d have hated me to be.” His throat closed up and he swallowed through it, forced the next words out. “When you died I swore to avenge you, but my love, I think—” he exhaled slowly “—I think I have to let you go.”
A brisk wind swept in off the water and ruffled through his hair as Milah’s fingers used to do. It stroked his cheek with the touch of her lips and whispered with her voice in his ear.
I love you, it said. Go.
Killian let his eyes fall shut as he breathed in the scent of her skin, closed his fist in her curls one final time. When he opened them again he was alone.
Alone, but for the first time in many a year, hopeful.
The past is done, he thought, and can’t be changed. All you can do is move forward.
Somewhere, some time, there was a green-eyed witch with golden curls and a sharp tongue and the softest heart he’d ever known. One who could read him like a book and understand the story it told. And he was an artificer who knew how to build a bloody time machine.
It was time to move on.
—
The afternoon was warm and hazy as it often is in August on the coast of Maine. The air was heavy and humid and buzzing with the hum of bees and midges as they swarmed and bumbled their way through late-summer flowers. Flowers that bloomed in full riotous colour in the remarkable garden of a thoroughly unremarkable grey clapboard house.
A figure approached the garden gate, tall and oddly dressed for this realm. He wore a long and sweeping leather coat over an ornately embroidered waistcoat, tall leather boots and a matching heavy satchel slung across his back. He paused, and regarded the gate with a raised eyebrow and all the deference he could muster.
Killian Jones knew magic when he sensed it.
“May I come in, lass?” he inquired of the air and the gate and the bumblebees, and whomever else might happen to be listening.
The gate swung open.
Killian favoured it with a small bow then sauntered through it, through the bright and fragrant garden and up to the porch steps and the door atop them. It opened as he approached to reveal a woman with long curling hair, a tight white tank top and very short shorts. She placed a hand on her hip and smirked.
“Took you long enough,” she said.
Killian climbed the porch steps and dropped his satchel, hooked a thumb beneath his belt buckle and treated her to his flirtiest grin. “Time is relative, I think you’ll find,” he replied. “Also an illusion. And there are some philosophers who claim that—”
His words were cut off by Emma’s lips, her fingers tight on the lapels of his coat as she pulled him in close. She was solid and real against his chest, her mouth hot and her skin so soft. Killian groaned as he sank his fingers into her hair, as he kissed her back with everything he’d held in his heart since he saw her last.
The kiss was short but rich with feeling, with potential, with hope. When it ended they paused for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s breath.
Emma spoke first. “You came forward,” she said. “You actually did it.” She laughed, and thumped her fist lightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”
“Aye, well, as it turns out, I’m a hell of an artificer,” he replied, and she laughed again. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms tight around her and sighed as she tucked her head beneath his chin.
“And the rest of it?” she inquired softly. “Milah, and the Dark One—”
He took a moment to consider how to answer. There were many things he could say, so much he wanted to tell her. But it would wait. They had time. In the end he said simply, “I’ve made my peace. It’s done.”
“Good.” She looked up at him with that glorious smile and his heart sang with happiness. “That’s good.”
—
@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @stahlop @spartanguard @killianjones-twopointoh @captain-emmajones
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#captain swan#cs fic#cs ff#magic au#cs au#the loosest of canon divergences#witch!Emma#artificer!Killian#time travel#kind of#realm travel#also kind of#angsty killian#he is a sad boi#angst with a happy ending#a dash of hurt/comfort#birthday fic#the thief of time#with apologies to oscar wilde and terry pratchett#profdanglaisstuff
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Kit seeing Will for the first time, not realizing who he is: Why are you dressed like that?
Will defensively: Why are YOU dressed like THAT?!
#will herondale#william herondale#kit herondale#christopher herondale#kit rook#the shadowhunter chronicles#shadowhunters#incorrect quotes#once upon a time#the dark artifices#the wicked powers#emma swan#henry mills#killian jones#captian hook
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Meet the B.o.B
#joltzen#myart#The Adventure Zone#TAZ#thezonecast#bureau of balance#lucretia#the director#davenport#angus mcdonald#avi#johann#killian#carey fangbattle#garfield the deals warlock#leon the artificer#robbie#pringles#balance#taz balance
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The Director: Someone needs to be alert tonight. This snake juice is basically rat poison. Everybody’s wasted.
Johann: [crying] You don’t even know one thing, I didn’t even say one thing and then she asked me the whole thing and I didn’t even do it once!
Taako: I’m like an elephant, OK? If I walk into a room, it’s like OK, he’s in there.
Killian: I’m not gonna tell you, or that - that bitch over there. I’m - I’m gonna - I don’t have to brag.
Leon: Baba booey.
Magnus: Turn this music down. [singing] Farts and boobs and love and stuff… macaroni salad…
Merle: [incomprehensible Dwarven]
Carey: [dancing like nobody’s watching]
Avi: [giggles, holding a glass of wine]
#taz#the adventure zone#incorrect taz quotes#the director#johann#taako#killian#leon the artificer#magnus burnsides#magnus#merle#merle highchurch#carey fangbattle#carey#avi#source: parks and rec#over 100
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IT IS TIME...
for the The Adventure Zone: Balance sexyperson poll
I've done the bracket a lil different than other polls

Rather than randomizing all the characters available against eachother, I have hand selected the 8 characters I felt have the best chances and placed them so that the first round will be going against them to make everything a little more fair so that smaller NPCs without as much love won't go down round one against a player character or something!
I have also separated the brackets by gender, not for weird reasons, also just for fairness so if, say, Taako is up against Lucretia, the poll isn't thrown off by the majority of votes coming from people who are only attracted to women or vice versa.
ROUND ONE:
Johann VS Edward (Winner VS Taako)
Barry Bluejeans VS Avi (Winner VS Magnus)
Davenport VS Leon the Artificer (Winner VS Merle)
Magic Brian VS John (Winner VS Kravitz)
Lydia VS Istus (Winner VS Killian)
Julia Burnsides VS Sloane (Winner VS Lucretia)
Carey Fangbattle VS Hurley (Winner VS Lup)
Klarg VS No-3113 (Noelle) (Winner VS Garfield)
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Best TAZ Balance NPC poll
After a little messing around, I've decided to conduct a very scientific poll.
This will include every TAZ Balance NPC that I remember/care about so I apologize deeply if your favorite NPC isn't on here but there's 60 total so I feel that's pretty comprehensive.
Matchups under the read more (These have been randomized so I'm sorry for any tough choices)
Artemis Sterling vs Hurley
Kravitz vs Klarg
Angus McDonald vs Robbie
Graham the Juicy Wizard vs Mr. Upsy
Johann vs Davenport
Roswell vs Dracula
Antonia vs Rowan
Lucas Miller vs Hodge Podge
Hekuba Roughridge vs Cassidy
Steven vs Brad Bradson
Greg Grimaldis vs Jenkins
Trent the Treant vs Little Jerry and Jerreeeeee
Cam vs Paloma
Voidfish vs Garyl
Barry Bluejeans vs Istus
Gundren Rockseeker vs Lucretia
Maarvey vs Sloane
Joaquin Terrero vs Edward
Mookie vs Lup
Ash vs Jeff Angel
Lydia vs Avi
Ren Mol'diira vs The Raven Queen
Clint McElroy (the Plane Walker) vs Boyland
June vs Pan
Brody vs Magic Brian
Garfield the Deals Warlock vs John
Leon the Artificer vs Carey Fangbattle
Mavis vs Killian
Maureen Miller vs Julia Burnsides
Jess the Beheader vs NO-3113
#tumblr polls#taz#the zone cast#the adventure zone#taz balance#Artemis Sterling#Hurley#Kravitz#klarg#angus mcdonald#robbie#graham the juicy wizard#mr. upsy#johann taz#davenport#roswell#dracula#antonia taz#rowan taz#lucas miller#hodge podge#Hekuba Roughridge#cassidy taz#steven the goldfish#brad bradson#greg grimaldis#jenkins taz#Trent the Treant#Little Jerry and Jerreeeeee#cam taz
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boydective15: Please be careful sirs.
killerkillian: someone better turn on easy mode
leon: lol
#the adventure zone#live show#taz live show#taz spoilers#SDCC live show#angus mcdonald#killian#leon the artificer
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I worked really hard on these, guys.
#my art#the adventure zone#taz#au#avatar the last airbender#atla#atla!au#taz!au#magnus burnsides#julia burnsides#julia waxman#merle highchurch#taako taaco#kravitz#killian#carey fangbattle#leon the artificer#garfield the deals warlock#lucretia#the director#angus mcdonald
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TAZ: Balance Characters as Whose Line is it Anyways Identities
Magnus Burnsides:

Merle Highchurch:

Taako Taaco:
Barry Bluejeans:

Lup Taaco:
Lucretia:

Davenport:
Klarg:
Killian:

Magic Brian:
Avi:

Carey Fangbattle:

Leon the Artificer:

Garfield the Deals Warlock:

Angus McDonald:
Jenkins:

Hurley & Sloane:
Lucas Miller:

No3113:
Kravitz:
Paloma:
June:

Edward & Lydia:

And finally,
The IPRE on the Starblaster:

The IPRE on the Day of Story and Song:

And last, but not least,
Tres Horny Bois:
#taz#taz balance#the adventure zone#the adventure zone balance#taako#taako taaco#taz taako#magnus burnsides#merle highchurch#taz lucretia#taz lup#lup taaco#barry bluejeans#taaco twins#ipre#taz ipre#starblaster#petals to the metal#the eleventh hour#the crystal kingdom#here there be gerblins#the suffering game#wonderland twins#edward and lydia#klarg#taz hurley#taz sloane#angus mcdonald#taz kravitz#kravitz
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in my never-ending quest to combine my interests, I had the delightful thought last night of the Once crew playing D&D, and Emma obviously plays a barbarian because the sadistic joy she’d get from saying “I would like to rage” fills me with joy
Henry GMs, David is just like “I’ll be a fighter :)” and Snow multi-classes a ranger/rogue and strongly considers a druid as well but Henry’s like “Grandma that’s like, a lot of spells to manage even if you only get to level 3 druid” and Snow already sees how much trouble Regina is having as a wizard (”I understand there’s components, but for how much money I’m wasting on them means it should last more than a minute” “Mom that’s 10 rounds of combat” “Henry, it’s just not realistic” “Mom they weren’t considering actual sorceresses would be playing when they designed the game”) so she sticks to her two classes after seeing there’s a lot of crossover in druids and rangers if she picks the right subclass
And after Henry sees that most of his family are just playing versions of themselves is like “can anyone play against their own types” so Killian’s like, “okay I’ll be a bard” mostly because he just wants to be a snarky asshole with Cutting Words and maxes out his Charisma so his spells have a ridiculous advantage.... and then just to make things interesting he takes a few levels in Artificer so that while he may be a snarky asshole, he’s a snarky asshole with explosives and can absolutely back up what he’s saying
Henry stops asking people to play against their own types after that
#once upon a time#ouat#EMMA NEEDS A HEALTHY OUTLET FOR HER ANGER SOMETIMES AND DEALING 2X DAMAGE DOES THAT#i love the idea of henry being the long-suffering GM#and he enjoys the challenge but sometimes doesn't want his stepfather#coming into his room after dinner to discuss if it's possible to make song-powered artillery
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For the end of year asks. You’ve answered 10, 8, and 3, so I want 1, 2, 4-7, and 9... don’t shoot me please... 😘
Of course, if you’ve already answered some of the others, you can skip those too...
😲. I’m... not sure that's how you play the game?? But okay, buckle in.
1. What’s your personal favourite thing you wrote this year?
I’ve written a lot of things I liked this year. Unlike previous years I don’t think there’s anything I don’t feel good about. I think for favourite I’d have to go with ...and held her in my arms, because it turned out pretty much exactly as I envisioned it and I like the intensity of the pining, and The Bend of the Arc, because it was such a stretch for me and I really like the end result. That and the comments on it were just so lovely.
2. What’s your least favourite thing you wrote this year?
As I said above I’m happy with everything from this year, but I guess the one I'm least happy with is where none intrudes. I kind of feel like my head wasn’t quite in the right place and I wrote it too quickly. It could have been better if I'd taken more time. Ironically, it is my most popular Tumblr post ever.
4. Which of your fics this year was most successful?
On Tumblr, it was where none intrudes which still continues to get random notes. On AO3 (and I'm discounting Moonlight here because that started last year) it currently stands at Error 404 by a single kudo over the stars through our souls.
5. Which of your fics do you wish was more successful?
I guess that depends on what successful means? I wouldn’t have minded more people reading A Uniquely Portable Magic because I think it’s some of the best descriptive writing I've ever done, but the ones who did read it gave such amazing feedback I consider it a success. The Fire of the Frost had the worst reception I’ve ever experienced on Tumblr, which I kind of expected because sequels are always less popular than the original and Moonlight was also a dud on Tumblr. But I’m still disappointed, I had thought it would do a bit better than it did. Like I thought it would flop but maybe not leave behind an actual indent in the ground.
6. What’s your favourite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?
Oof. I’m sure I'm overlooking something, but one scene I really like is this one from The Bend of the Arc. There are a couple of good exchanges in that fic I think but this one is where we really see the connection between them. Putting it below a cut as it’s long!
Emma popped the last bite of soufflé into her mouth and resisted the urge to lick her fingers. Instead she sipped her champagne and looked around for another tray. One passed by bearing what looked like tiny donuts and she almost dove to grab one. Biting into it, she found that it was savoury and filled with a feather-light truffled chicken mousse. She closed her eyes on a moan of delight, and when she opened them again Killian Jones was standing in front of her, watching her with an expression she found deeply objectionable.
“Well, darling, I do hope you’re not here for me this time,” he said.
Emma sneered. “I’m not.”
“Learnt our lesson, have we?” he replied with a smirk.
She ground her teeth. “I’ve simply got bigger fish to hook,” she said.
“Indeed. Considering that I am an entirely innocent man.”
She snorted.
“That infuriates you, doesn’t it,” he observed, smirk deepening. “That I walked free.”
Nearly a year’s worth of frustration and righteous fury bubbled up inside Emma, bursting forth before she could stop it. “It’s not right!” she exclaimed. “It’s not justice!”
“No, it’s just not perfect justice. Though one certainly could argue that a decade spent under the thumb of a madman is more than enough punishment for whatever crimes I committed.”
Something in his voice troubled her, a pained sincerity that niggled at her conscience. She ignored it. “Rationalise it all you like, if it helps you sleep at night,” she retorted.
“Oh, I have no trouble sleeping,” he said, stepping closer and leaning into her space, hips first. “Though occasionally I do forgo it voluntarily, in favour of more… enjoyable activities.”
“You’re filthy.”
“I certainly can be,” he purred. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want nothing from you.”
“Well love, we both know that’s not true.”
“Oh do we?”
“We do. You’re something of an open book, you see.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am the opposite of that.”
“You’d like to be. But for those who know how to look, your tells are obvious.”
“Bullshit.”
He shifted, standing straighter and observing her with blue eyes that went, between one blink and the next, from flirtatious to coolly assessing, sharply analytical. She felt a flare of alarm in her chest, and the worrying suspicion that she may have underestimated him.
“The relaxed posture,” he said. “That’s one. You’re a woman of action, rarely still. If you stop moving you start thinking, and you, Emma Swan, hate nothing more than being in your own head. You’re tense all the time unless you’re pretending not to be, as you are now. Playing the role of carefree society girl, perfectly at home in these glittering surroundings where you are in actual fact deeply uncomfortable.”
She attempted a laugh. “Maybe I’m just having a good time.”
“You’re holding that glass so tightly you’re in danger of snapping the stem, and you’re digging the heel of your shoe into the floor. It takes a lot of effort to maintain that outward calm, which is why you don’t normally bother. You hate artifice, bullshit as you would call it, and your plan tonight is to get in, get your mark and get out. After you’ve eaten your fill of the food, that is.” The corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile. “Do correct me if any of this is wrong.”
“It’s all wrong,” she snapped.
“Now, love, don’t you start to bullshit.”
Emma’s fingers clenched tighter on the champagne glass and she deliberately forced them to relax. “Why don’t you just leave me alone,” she hissed.
His eyes softened, and heated with an expression that made her belly clench. “Because you intrigue me,” he murmured.
“Well you disgust me.”
He laughed. “Liar.”
“How dare you—”
He brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder, his fingers close enough that she could feel the heat of them but not their touch, and when he spoke again his voice was rough. “You’ve a delightful pale pink flush all across your skin, your pupils are dilated, your breathing shallow. And your pulse—” His hand glided down her arm and wrapped around her wrist, fingertips pressing gently onto her pulse point. “It’s racing, love. I don’t require any special skills to pick up on these tells.” He caught her gaze, his own heated and intense. “Would it help if I confessed that the attraction is entirely mutual?”
“No!”
“Pity.”
She tried to pull her arm from his grip but he held fast, leaning closer still to murmur in her ear. “He’s over by the fountain.”
She wouldn’t look, thought Emma. She wouldn’t. She closed her eyes as Killian released her and the heat and intoxicating scent of him moved away. She didn’t want his help, didn’t need it. Resented it. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking and of course there he was. Her mark, standing in front of the fountain at the centre of the room.
“How the hell did you know—” she spun around but Killian was gone.
7. What’s your favourite piece of description or narration?
Unquestionably the beginning of Portable Magic.
He’s not sure what draws him through the door. The look of it, perhaps, the twisted grain and the knotholes, polished to a patina by centuries of wind and rain and hands upon it. Some hands much like his own and others very different. He finds comfort in that, as he places his hand on the door. His hand.
His only hand.
On the other side of the door is a bookshop. He knew that of course, from the sign in the window, another thing tempting him inside. It’s far too long since he read a good book, too long since he let himself get lost in stories other than his own. He’s not quite ready for what he sees.
The shelves are made of the same wood as the door. Carved from it, it seems. Hewn might be the word. The knobbly, knothole-y wood that even his limited carpentry knowledge tells him could not form straight shelves. It doesn’t, yet they hold the books. Row upon row of them, dizzying rows. His head spins when he tries to look at them, like a kaleidoscope or a funhouse mirror, too many things, too many angles, too little space.
He blinks, and everything is fine again. It’s just a bookstore.
“It’s just a bookstore,” he tells the cat in the window, a huge grey tabby with long, silky fur and pale blue, unblinking eyes.
“Of course it is,” the cat replies. “What were you expecting?”
“I—what?”
“Meow,” says the cat.
...and this paragraph
He sits at the table and opens the book at the top of the pile, glances into it, and is absorbed. It’s the tale of a lonely man, a wanderer without a home who finds his place in the hearts of those he meets along his travels. It grips him so entirely that he fails to notice Ruby as she sets a pot of tea before him, with a mismatched cup and saucer and a plate bearing a thick slice of cake, fragrant with lemon and dotted with plump blueberries. Absently he prepares his tea—a splash of milk, no sugar—and sips it as he reads. It has a bright, floral aroma but a rich flavour that reminds him of the Earl Grey his brother favoured, and he has to pause for a moment to allow the ache to pass. It does, faster than it once did, and so he risks another sip and sighs this time in pleasure. It’s delicious. He settles deeper into the chair and the book, sips the tea and nibbles the cake and doesn’t notice either one disappearing or the afternoon sunshine fading into twilight beyond the windows until Ruby comes to clear the table with a clatter of silver on porcelain.
9. If you could go back and change something about one of the fics you wrote this year, what would it be?
I have a difficult relationship with all the perfect things (that I doubt) because part of me loves it and part thinks maybe I should have made some different choices. I guess it’s just that there are so many options for that scenario and I kind of want to write all of them (but also there is NO TIME, so don't get any ideas, woman!).
-
um, I would say send me an end of year ask, but Krystal has ASKED THEM ALL
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No dogs on the moon!
#The Adventure Zone#thezonecast#TAZ#bureau of balance#lucretia#davenport#angus mcdonald#avi#johann#killian#carey fangbattle#garfield the deals warlock#leon the artificer#robbie#pringles#joltzen#myart#balance#taz balance
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~The Bureau of Balance~
In the Group Pic Left to Right it’s:
Garfield the Deals Warlock, Lucas Miller, Angus McDonald, The Director, Davenport, Johann the Bard, Avi, Killian, Carrie Fangbattle, Leon the Artificer, Robbie aka “Pringles”, and Brad Bradson
apologies to Noelle fans I didn’t have it in me to design a Big Ole Robot
#the adventure zone#taz#the zone cast#character design#garfield the deals warlock#lucas miller#angus mcdonald#lucretia#davenport#johann the bard#taz avi#taz killian#carrie fangbattle#leon the artificer#taz pringles#brad bradson#OOF#fanart
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Your pixel art is so charming and cute!! I love it so much, especially the latest one. Do you think you could give a character lineup for all the people in the pews? :0?
Thank you!!!!! O you mean like identifying who’s who? Ofc!
Left Top row: Killian’s family (i.e. a bunch of random orc OCs LOL)
Left Middle row: Mookie and Mavis, Davenport, Lucretia
Left Bottom Row: Robbie, Leon the Artificer, and Brad Bradson (I just googled “BoB employees that are still alive” lmfao)
Right Top Row: Carey’s family (LOTS OF LIZARDS. What do dragonborn wear as formalwear? Probs something way more exciting than this but it was 1am at this point so i was just like “nondescript lizard garments”)
Right Middle Row: Kravitz, Taako, Lup, and Barry
Right Bottom Row: Ango, Magnus, and Avi :3
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Last hour to vote in Round 1 Polls
Artemis Sterling vs Hurley
Kravitz vs Klarg
Angus McDonald vs Robbie (aka Pringles)
Graham the Juicy Wizard vs Mr. Upsy
Johann vs Davenport
Roswell vs Dracula
Antonia vs Rowan
Lucas Miller vs Hodge Podge
Hekuba Roughridge vs Cassidy
Steven the Goldfish vs Brad Bradson
Greg Grimaldis vs Jenkins
Trent the Treant vs Little Jerry and Jerreeeeee
Cam vs Paloma
Fisher vs Garyl
Barry Bluejeans vs Istus
Gundren Rockseeker vs Lucretia
Maarvey vs Sloane
Joaquin Terrero vs Edward
Mookie vs Lup
Ash vs Jeff Angel
Lydia vs Avi
Ren Mol'diira vs The Raven Queen
Clint McElroy (the Planewalker) vs Boyland
June vs Pan
Brody vs Magic Brian
Garfield the Deals Warlock vs John
Leon the Artificer vs Carey Fangbattle
Mavis vs Killian Fangbattle
Maureen Miller vs Julia Burnsides
Jess the Beheader vs NO-3113
#taz#the zone cast#the adventure zone#johann is getting his ass beat#and so is john but that's funny#tumblr poll
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Charatcter Descriptions and Summary 2.13
As always, let me know if I need to edit or add anything and tag/ask/PM me about art and stories so I can check them out! I'll try to add warnings later. Also, we have 8 episodes left including this one, so the last one should be number 20.
***
Things
Dusk Moss
Hallucinogenic moss with very few alchemical properties that puts the user into a state of lucid dreaming where they are also concious of waking world (basically fantasy marijuana)
Is a flammable powder that cannot be unlit once lit
Crumpkin said his brother swears by it and that everyone should try it at least once.
It will even you out if you take a little bit and a quarter of teaspon will send one of them on a trip all day (so what about the size and race of the person?)
Can buy in a massive block from Tinkerer's Hall where a dose of the powder can be shaved off the block to use
Mystery Rune
The rune was abjurative magic: metamagic school (instead of protection, wards, and shields) which shapes the nature of magic itself. Specifically, the rune involved curses and a way to mask powerful curses and spells. One can take a tremendous amount of spellcraft (or the ability to cast multiple spells), put it into a curse, and have the curse ride under other curses. In other words, if connected to an object, the object would have been "cursed" to be a vessel for a wealth of other spellcasting (flash drive), but hidden under another curse (advanced encryption and a virus).
The larger and more permeable the curse, the more able it is to ride under another curse.
The curse on top (dummy curse) works best the more widespread, static (can't be easily ended or doesn't have random frequent spell effects), ambient, and passive it is like using a magical landscapes or creatures instead of a spell made by a spellcaster.
***
PCs With Datemates
Kristen
Took a picture on her crystal of the unknown goddess mural (originally wondered if it was a tequila advertisement)
Kissed Tracker and the tree she was hiding behind
Wanted rosé with the cold fratatas, but thought it was weird that he put both kale and spinach in them (as did Tracker)
Looked through the medical papers Adaine and Riz found and figured out how to cure the Kalina infection (greater restoration due to studying records or a tinsure that requires dusk moss, the alchemical supplies Gorgug got from the tinkerers, some things Adaine can pull from her jacket, and one or two things they'd only be able to find beyond the wall)
Her and the group decided on the tincture method despite the risk of curing behind the wall as she can only cast greater restoration once per day (only one 5th level spell slot and 5 infected: Tracker, Sandra Lynn, Ragh, Riz, and herself), but the option of using greater restoration on herself and Riz while leaving the others behind or inside Van was discussed (side note: could she team up with any of the locals bards/clerics/druids/artificers/celestial warlocks who know greater restoration and teach them the specifics of the altered spell while they wait on the others to get back?)
Suggested they pretend they all died after they take the tincture in order to give them an advantage due to Kalina thinking the party was cut in half (all but Adaine agreed)
Owns little handcuffs with her and Tracker's initials on them
"I don't know why I'm saying this, but Go Ball."
Assumed that the team in hell were just stuck in a waiting room, possibly drinking pina coladas
Investigated where Aelwen, Adaine's mom, and Killian entered the briar wall. It was much more tangled, far from Arborly, up a cliff with difficult rocky terrain between them and the temple. It was a place where they wouldn't be looked for, but it would take them longer to get there.
Tracker
Said the thing with Vraz made her werewolf issue with the Shrine of Thorns the second weirdest thing that's happened
Started transforming after glancing at the uncovered mural image of the unknown goddess, growling as half her head transformed as she fought changing before rolling off and hiding behind a tree (per Kristen's suggestion)
Couldn't go to hell because she couldn't enter the shrine
Gorgug
Got springs put in his shoes by the gnomes which gave them thick rubbery soles (Spring Coiled Sneakers of Bounding) and also asked for shock thing from tinkerers which would have a spare the dying effect (unknown if he got it)
Wears size 19 canvas shoes
Looked through a big log book with the alchemic ingredients in tinkerer's shorthand before buying the same alchemical ingredients that Killian bought (magnesium, antimony, and mercury which are used in magical candles) for 350 gold. Killian also bought two huge blocks of dusk moss incense (600 gold for both which he split cost wise with Fabian), but he was nervous about buying it (dusk moss details above).
Explained cell towers to the tinkerers
Considered jumping into space to either get to or place a satellite
Found a picture of his parents launching their satellite into space (Wilma and Digby giving double thumbs up, the van tipped on it's nose with it's back doors open to launch the satellite from the back of it, a lot of papers and a mobile desk in van's glovebox) and found space tech-esk routing info for the satellite in Van which allowed him to make a satellite phone
Originally left his crystal and the info with the tinkerers (original timeframe 1-2 days), but came back to help which speed up the process
Was curious why Gilear wasn't infected by Shadow Cat like Sandra Lynn and was later sorry he brought it up
When they found out they couldn't enlarge/reduce Van, he considered making a massive vest with massive pockets he could wear that everyone could jump in before they used enlarge/reduced on him, but the idea was scrapped
Suggested that if they played dead after taking the tincture to not warn Gilear so he wouldn't be acting when they "died".
"Hey, this is based on nothing, but I feel like Gilear is dead."
Believed that hell wasn't as bad as people said it was, just unfamiliar and like 5 degrees hotter
Ran into the briars after the portal closed
Likes a hot hot tub because warm ones just makes him wonder what's cooking in there
Was up all night sweating with his hoodie off (first time in a long time) working on his phone before finishing up the crystal pack (made his phone into a satellite phone). He felt pretty good about making it work.
Got a slew of unread messages once he turned his phone on (few old ones from Zelda, some from his parents checking in, and tour stuff)
Called Zelda with a video call, putting his hoodie back on as it rang and rang (most of the call is in Zelda section)
Told Zelda he loved her for the first time (after she said it first). Said he wished he was there, but hadn't figured that technology out yet and admitted that he might not have service once they went into the forest ("I'm here to communicate")
The gnomes erupted into cheers over the crystal working, but he was equally exciting over Zelda saying she loved him. They popped some gnome wine (pink fizzy champagne that smelled like cloying sweet strawberries) and shared it with him in celebration
Got a bunch of DMs from the other seven maidens saying "Way to go big guy"
Zelda
Was at Ostentata's house at night for a party (everybody was telling the story of when Gorgug jumped the fire elemental there and when he backyard wrestle smashed the beer pong table while time was stopped) when Gorgug called
Told her adventuring party he was calling before she went outside, but they followed
Answered her phone while still wearing her earbuds and assumed he was back, but was told he figured out how to make his phone work. He did it because he felt like it was important to be able to talk to her, the world, and her (not because it was part of the quest). She asked if they had cell towers, but Gorgug said that he had been working on artificer stuff and used his parents' satellite.
Started crying over Gorgug doing a whole bunch of new science to make his phone able to call back, apologized to him over getting upset, and said she missed him and he was the best
Was embarrassed by the other maidens eavesdropping (they called out "Good lookin out Gorgug! Stand up thing to do! You did it!"). Gorgug went on speaker and said "Well hello guys!" before she shooed them off to talk to her boyfriend
Made sure that Gorgug's friends weren't in danger over him working on his project, but was reassured that he was having down time and it would also help them in the long run
Told Gorgug that she loved him for the first time and freaked out (insulting herself) before he said that he loved her too. This was followed by her saying "oooh I just wanna... I just wish you were here."
Said the Red Waste was super hard, but they were done and thought they would get a good grade on it
Called Gorgug cool (and was called cool by him). Said what he did meant a lot to her. The call ended with one last quick I love you from Gorgug.
Fig
Subpoenaed to be a witness for Gortholax before a tribunal due to him being negligent for his infernal domain (after his 9th and final request for appearence lapsed). The print of her subpoena got so fine that it was mostly illegable without a magnifying glass. It was also in infernal (which she can read)
Asked Vraz if she could leave the door to hell open with them following later (left open, but was yelled at)
Considered disguising herself as Gortholax and offered to disguise herself as a famous lawyer from billboards to help Gilear
Wanted to know more about law so she could defend Gortholax domain and yelled "THE CHOSEN ONE!" when she discovered that Gilear knew the law
Wanted to start a grass roots campaign about the demons working with the nightmare king (as devils hate them both)
Asked her mom why Gilear wasn't infected and discovered her parents had slept together many times, but not in the last 3 years
Got upset with Riz over his opinion on devils (quote in dialogue link)
Had to be the first through the portal to hell, but straddled the flaming doorway with Riz on her back to try to keep it open
Tied a rope around Hangman so she could wakeboard while smoking a clove, library card behind her right ear
Thought Gortholax's home was tasteful and knew the door code.
Blamed herself for the quality of Gilear's life (quote in dialogue link)
To Vraz "What going on with you? Do you need a hug?"
Lit a cigarette in court, told them that Gortholax was trapped in a gem, put her feet up, and said Kalina the Shadow Cat used a proxy to trap Gortholax with the assistance of demons (but was able to hide the fact that she was the proxy from Vraz)
Asked for help getting into the forest of the Nightmare King, but got yelled at because calling a recess does not mean the trial is over
Cut her arm and offered the tribunal her blood as proof she was Gortholax's daughter, but the blood sizzled when it hit the ground and either summoned or created an imp which served as proof
Ayda
Told Adaine what the rune was (details below)
Still working on plane shift
Got upset over Fig getting sucked into hell, insisting that they had to go rescue her "Well, we should do whatever we can to make it happen as fast as possible because I'm going to get another kiss, whatever happens"
Said Fig's lips are the softest things she's ever felt (grossing out Adaine) and "If I don't smell Fig's hair again, I'm going to incenerate"
Asked Adaine for advice as the Oracle, wanting to know how many potential futures there were were Fig wouldn't want to kiss her or be around her anymore and if they could be avoided. She was also worried that Fig might have kissed her, but not felt attracted to her.
"If we kissed a bunch of times over the course of an hour, does that mean we are girlfriends or wives?" (potentially but ask to clarify)
Was worried that she would look sad, weird, or not normal from a social standpoint for asking Fig to clarify if they were girlfriends (to which Adaine said she was not and was in face very very cool).
Worried about her mind being foreign to other people and despite not being the same as Adaine, felt better after talking to someone who understands not being like everyone else.
Told Adaine "You're a very special person to me and your friendship means the world to me. I hope we study magic together for a long long time" and that she loved her.
Has notes on how her brain works and built an entire friendship section in the library because she was so lonely.
Went to the Synod to be alone because she lived "on a dirty pirate island"
***
Other PCs And People In The Party
Adaine
Released an aura in the crime scene and might have put on gloves
Found the non detection runes her mother had placed (to keep elves off the trail) and the remains of two rituals, one to kill Killian and one to put the Devil's Heart (with Gortholax) inside Killian. The rituals happened 24 hours appart, meaning they left the night the teens arrived or her mom knew to kill Killian before Aelwen arrived.
While looking for something in the room (something nice her mom might have said about her), she found a blank piece of parchment on a small desk and revealed a message using "the pencil trick" ("Aelwen is with me. You are betrayed. You have no other choice darling. Come with us.") which she believed was probably for her dad. Later got the original copy (wrote out for a sending spell) by using mend on ashes she found in a trashcan
Suggested a cold fratata picnic
Pulled beautifully printed pamplets out of her jacket for Fig's grass roots campaign, but they had a typo so she tossed them
Told the group to give a thumbs up to someone who had the message spell (currently only Fig and Adaine) if they had something to say to keep it from Kalina
Was caught by briars and ejected from the hell potral, keeping her from entering, but decided that heaven and hell were just reflections of each other so she wasn't worried
On dusk moss, said "I've heard it's good for anxiety." and suggested that they all got high while waiting on their friends to return from hell (but was unable to convince the others)
Discovered that the unknown goddess' spellbook had a distinguishing mark on it, an occult rune that was in a lot of stuff at Compass Points (which Ayda would have studied) and on the coin given to Kalvaxus (more info under mystery rune)
Liked a hot tub that started off very warm at first and then got more comfortable
Messaged Ayda late at night for help "Avast ye scurvy devil. How is plane shift going? Also, need info on rune. It looks like [x]" (answered back "I'm not a scurvy devil. Let's use the synonym. Right jacket pocket.")
Found a key made of glowing blue crystalline energy in her pocket as the keyhole on a nearby door started glowing slightly blue.
Was given a scroll with a first level spell by Ayda that granted her access to the Synod of Spyre which is a meeting place for wizards
Told Ayda "I think your great", made her laugh by telling her that curses were "ten a penny", and told her that she enjoyed talking to her about their magic as Ayda is someone who gets it and is not mean to her
Asked Ayda to tell her everything (about the kiss), but then realized that she didn't want or need to know everything. She did say (about Ayda and Fig) "I support this. I am happy about it. I am amazed. Oooo she's secretive!" and that while on a macro level, some people will kiss without caring, Fig wouldn't because she cared about everybody (she did kiss those two older guys though?)
Admittedly that being oracle only let her help out a little every day and occasionally she got a terrifying vision, but she doesn't know when the event will occur or what will cause it
To Ayda, "If you like a person and they like you and the relationship is good, it shouldn't matter how other people feel about it? I think."
"I want to be alone and also surrounded by my friends at all times."
Riz
Worked the crime scene in the Owl and Harp with Adaine (putting on gloves before starting)
Found that the rituals were specifically to get Kalina into Silvar by bypassing the need for permission from a devil authority by using petrismosis to move from an infected creature into a gem to commandeer the devil within it
Petrismosis: The body's ability to start having elements of the magical gem within it to start permiating orgainic membrane; the process of an organic body and gem to become one which includes osmosis of blood to gem (ragh mom constrantly fights against the being within her gem using her rage, blood, and soul)
Told Adaine "It's great to fin- be around someone who just focuses up. Me and you? Everybody else is super horny. Super emotional. But me and you? *slaps hands together* No emotions between the two of us." (she was looking for something nice from her mom)
Discovered that Adaine's mom had packed WAY more rations than they needed to get to the temple, some alchemical ingredients, and all primary work, leaving only hints behind as well as some research and medical diagrams (which Adaine and Riz took). The medical diagrams were extremely old velum grave robber level medical stuff written in a character based pictogram language (think hieroglyphs, almost like emoji) that was most likely centaur. One medical diagram was of a disected and dismembered centaur with dark, very scary looking cat symbols (refered to as the disease or infection) behind eyes, in ears, on tongue, deep in sinuses, and on spine. It also showed that the brain was carefully taken apart and looked at, but the infection was not present there.
He and Adaine deduced that Kalina could only look through one person at a time using their senses and couldn't get into their brains, but could cause paralysis. The only safe place would be the moon haven/Kristen's hallow, but Kalina might be able to ride one of the infected into the haven if she was actively trying to do it. They could however talk anywhere using telepathy (such as the message spell).
Was worried about going to hell while infected, but later said "I meantioned that I was concerened about going to hell and her possibly being able to see the trial, but hell is also bad so I don't really care if they end up fighting and killing each others. Let's just go to hell. Also, they're super far along already. They have Gortholax and they're in. So it's not like... yeah."
Might have internalized racism/goblinphobia and has bias towards devils (both from his reactions in this episode and his reaction to Gortholax in season 1)
Suspicious of devils and doesn't think they should be super cool with them (quote in dialogue link), later becoming upset over what Hangman said about goblins ("Oh like goblins have such a great reputation.") and the others reaction to his and The Hangman's statement.
Road into hell holding onto Fig's back.
Upon seeing Gilear knocked out, said "See I told you that hell was bad! I mean, this is awesome, but this is bad." Pointed out the irony of Gilear getting mad at him a long time ago for stealing the first aid kit that gave him the healing feat.
After Hangman said the evil souls were murderers, thieves, and liars, he started sweating and said "Liars huh?" (side note: Riz has actually done all three)
Grabbed Gilear's face and investigated him to figure out why he was so confident (he said no to an offer from Sandra Lynn). Hissed at Gilear and then apologized, saying they were in hell, it was weird, and the things said about goblins earlier made him feel kinda crazy
Hissed at Vraz repeatedly, even after she threatened him.
To Vraz "Well I'm Riz The Ball and I'm just gonna ROLL WITH THIS! We're here! We're here for your trial thing! *hiss*" Is held back by Gilear while Fig tried to push him forward towards Vraz (told her to stop it)
Hissed at Vraz again (when she was mean to Fig) saying Vraz calling somebody in the middle of a trial was weird before the pair got in another hissing/screaming match. Asked The Hangman to hold him back and got his foot run over.
Fabian
Ownes 250 to 312 pairs of shoes (depending how many have been thrown away or given to childen), has size 5 feet (and is self conscious about it), said he had delicate feet and was lithe and dexterous, and his father had small feet and mother had normal sized feet
Said "god damn it" when he discovered Krumpkin wore the same size shoes as him, lied and said he had big toes and wore a 5.5 because he didn't to exchange shoes with a gnome, and quietly said "...let's go" when Gorgug asked if he wanted little bells on his shoes (side note: was he teased in the past?)
Completely confused by tinkerers logbook, so he deferred to Gorgug. Tried to help by rubbing his sheet on the gold coins they were buying supplies with, but nothing happened
Was nervous about buying or using dusk moss, saying he knew a guy who tried it while wearing a hat and now he always felt like he's wearing the hat. Told the rest of the group "We bought so many drugs." when they dot back.
Fabian's bardic "You feel the power of Fabian's support and care for you" (the explanation of his new stats is linked below)
When asked if he wanted to stay in the Tinkerer's Hall, he answered "Absolutely. With all these weird little men and women. No thank you. Ragh, let's go!"
Has a bunch of private stuff on his phone that he doesn't want anybody seeing
Tried to ride Hangman into hell, but caught by the briars and ejected as the portal closed
Told Hangman "You are literally the sweetest meanest thing ever."
Mutters "Go off The Ball, go off" while Riz was in a different dimension from him (yelling at Vraz in hell)
Said he didn't worry about his father as he was thriving, but he missed him. When told he could get word to him, originally assumed Bill would be busy, then agreed but asked Hangman not to be needy about it, then tried to pretend that he was cool either way and that he didn't need it and it wouldn't fill him with joy, then admitted that it would fill him with joy, and finally just asking "yes please do it"
Likes a warm hot tub due to it being better for his skin and he can stay in there longer
(Multiple quotes can be found in the dialogue link below)
Hangman
His presence (a devil) closed the portal to hell, seperating him from Fabian. He could still talk to Fabian telepathically, but freaked out. When asked to turn it down, he replied "I can't turn it down, I'm sad!"
Said that the portal was created for the dark tribunal and afterwards the devils are required to deposite them from where they came from
Gave Gilear his mark by making his eyes glow dark red pinpricks and etching an infernal ruin of blood and fire on his forehead
Got pissed off over Gilear having to ride on him, but did it to stop his complaining. Meanwhile, Riz also road on him (with a "Huzzah!") and Fig tired a rope around him so she could wakeboard on her skateboard behind him
Approved of Riz hissing at Gilear
Said the souls falling into The Bottomless Pit were evil and of murderers, theives, and liars
Got the tribunal to allow them to stay at The Bottomless Pit (as Fig was both Gortholax's daughter and she had passage there) instead of prison
When he was told only Fig was going to go in the hot tub, he pouted and said "I want to go too!"
Offered to send word to Bill Seacaster for Fabian
Gilear
Made fratatas (with both spinach and kale) immediately, but they all got very cold due to the teens being away for hours (were so cold that they thought he put them in the freezer)
He was not "the face" when he worked in Fallenel at the elven counsel (where he said he was a glorified paralegal), but was still an expert in international and interplaner law
When Fig told him that it was his moment and she needed him, he immediately replied with "Nope!". He eventually gave his word to help, but was confused about how they got into trouble in Arborly, discovering the trial was both in hell ("what? what? oh no.") and delivered by a really keyed up woman who was probably working through something ("I...what have you done?")
From Adaine's jacket, was given a barrister wig from Fig ("None of the cultures I've worked for use these wigs"), a gavel from Kristen, and a black robe from Adaine
Found that the subpoena had no clause concerning ther souls, but hell would send people to get Fig if she didn't go
Wears boat shoes and had a powerful aura of disease coming from his feet (again Gilear DOCTOR! or have a healer greater restore!)
His bald spot was hit by a bit of fire before a blast of fire hit him and knocked him out, setting his wig on fire. He was healed by Riz, but left with burns.
Was given the Mark of The Hangman, which was an infernal ruin of blood and fire etched on his forehead which caused a red force field to appear that protected him from the fire as long as he was with The Hangman
Noticed how Fig was acting (library card behind ear) and started asking her questions, but she dodged them until Riz confronted him about his confidence and got him to confess "I got confidence because Sandra Lynn asked to sleep with me and I said no!" Said that he and Sandra Lynn talking until morning and towards the end she made an offer, he said "No. Thank you", and everyone was still happy and fine afterwards
Told Riz he was very scary and intense sometimes, resulting in Riz hissing at him
Did not actually help during the trial due to fear.
(Has multiple quotes in dialogue link.)
Sandra Lynn
Covered for the teens messaging by talking about finding where Adaine's mom entered the forest as the teens nodded along
Had to explain to her daughter that her and Gilear slept together, but she could have gotten the Kalina disease anytime in the last 3 years and Gilear wouldn't have been infected ("I love you. It's weird. Sorry for all this weird info.")
On Kristen attempting to handcuff her "So help me god Kristen Applebees. I understand that I work for you, but so help... wow."
No longer with Jawbone, but ended on good terms
Was very kind to Gilear the first night in Arborly. She offered to sleep with him at one point and was turned down.
When she asked what the teens were messaging about (dusk moss), Kristen said Spring Break and suggested Sandra Lynn have a spa day with a hot tub soak and a massage with cucumbers on her eyes. Gorgug suggested cucumbers on her ears. Fabian said they should get the weird gnomes to pound her (dear god Fabian! XD) with Kristen saying "gnomes all over your body", Adaine adding that they would walk on her back, and Fabian adding that the little shoe bells would be meditative
Ragh
Asked for a lost spring from the tinkerers
Wears a size 17.5 shoe (quote in dialogue link)
Was paranoid about buying dusk moss (ARE YOU A COP!?), but after Crumpkin's reaction, he grabbed Fabian and Gorgug's arms and said "I think drugs are legal here"
Took a solid chunk of dusk moss and was found staring at his hand ("My hand is just little animal on the end of your arm")
Came into the van later, shirtless and looking like he'd sweat ten gallons. Said "Everything in the world is connected", (on Adaine thinking of trying it) "Adaine, for real? I can never be anxious again because I don't even know if I can ever be fully in my body again.", and (response to Fabian saying it sounds scary) "No no. I'm part of the universe dude" before drinking a glass of water and going off to go to bed.
***
Gnomes
Crumpkin Springbill
Head Tinkerer of the Tinkerer's Hall of Arborly
Confused as to why anybody would be mad about people buying or using dusk moss
Told Gorgug that it would take a long time and a lot of materals to build a cell tower
Size 5 shoes (but likes a little toe room) with curled toes so he can puts little bells on them (sounds like the general style of shoes for the gnomes there as well)
Said hello to Zelda enthusiastically over a video call
Polly Pullypad and Osmand Wobbletrouble
Accidentally flew into where they stacked all the old pots and pans (Polly)
Brought Gorgug his altered shoes back and bowed to Gorgug
Asked to examine Gorgug's crystal in exchange for the spring shoes (Osmand)
Suggested they try to skip building a cell tower and connect directly to a satellite
(Unnamed Twins)
Shallower cone hats with tufts of fur on the ends of springs
Took gorgug shoes off his feet
***
Devils
Vraz the Mean
Sarcastic erinyes with a +13 insight and a beautiful but uncannoy vally porcelain face with a beauty mark
When Fig and Kristen asked if she could leave the door open so they could follow "Are you guys having a fun time? BECAUSE YOU SEEM PRETTY FUCKING GLIB! Keep your sass to yourself!", but still left the door open
Got hissed at by Riz a lot (multiple quotes in dialogue)
Said she is having a bad time between her title (Vraz The Mean), species (Erinyes), running hell, and her title (Arch Secretary)
Called the tribunal into order (with her two co-jurors in a room with a small 3 seat judges bench), stating that it concerned the issue of Gortholax's infernal negligence
Tried to call her boss Blozo, but he couldn't come due to traffic
Found that being trapped in a gem counted as extenuating circumstances and he would not be punished, but they needed a new regnant for the Bottomless Pit so they called a recess while they consulted the bylaws.
Yelled at Fig for asking for help after the recess saying (in a durr voice) " *points at temple* Do you know what words mean!? Do you know what words mean!? *jacking off motion* Huh?"
Was going to imprison "the mortals", but was convinced by Hangman to put them under house arrest at The Bottomless Pit
Kystrona (Ky-stron-ah) The Chained
Vaguely humanoid figure that is just like
A person with chains coiled where arms would be as well as the torso and head, making a massive mound of chains
Moved with a lot of strain (including trying to shrug) and voice is muffled from all the chains
Lorzug (lore-zug) The Impaled
Bone thin naked person with incredibly pale skin and translucent vains all over
Impaled through the stomach about 10 feet up a jet black iron spike as they kick and scream
Only responded with screams
Retch Rot
Tiny blood red imp with a scorpion tail summoned by Fig's blood (calls her mistress)
Might look like a red Boggy with really long legs for his size (Ally wondered if he looked like "a really famous mouse", including suspenders, but I personally give Emily's description more weight as she is in fact in hell as Fig)
Valet to Fig while in the Bottomless Pit
Wanted to show them to their quarters and the many doors of The Bottomless Pit (but had to make it clear that the doors were just rooms in the pit and not portals)
***
Other Stuff From 2.13
***
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#fantasy high#fantasy high live#fantasy high spoilers#dimension 20#d20 quotes#d20 character descriptions#d20 descriptions#descriptions#vraz the mean#krumpkin springbill#retch rot
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