#but yes she did technically corrupt her own crown because she barely used it for good

[cconfusedkat]

Paloma, the Goddess of Tranquil and Grain: once a beloved figure, to being the one slain so quickly for refusing to give into War and Violence.

She stood by her people for 1,200 years, reassuring them not to give into the war, to not give into anarchy, and the messy crumbling society of The Old Faith.

Shamura was the one who had slain her. Their siblings could care less about one God who refused to let her people be guided to danger, but this deeply angered them. To prove yourself worthy to your people, you had to fight, to earn their respect.

Alas, Paloma believed the opposite… which was how all this led to her murder.

It wasn't an easy way out, either. Shamura made sure she understood, just as much as her people would entrust them. Bloodshed—a God going against her own word, to keep The Lamb's safe in her land—another obstacle out the way to prove The Prophecy wrong.

She of Tranquil: a Goddess that managed to split her own crown apart by not using its power correctly. To tolerate this set of foolish behavior, to corrupt your own crown rather for it to corrupt you, despicable.

[andistic]

❝All I see is red. What do you see?❞ Full Name: Annie Renée Stewart Pronunciation: An ∙ nee, Ra ∙ nay, Stu ∙ art Meaning of Name: ❧ Annie is a diminutive of Anna. Anna is most likely a variant of a Hebrew name Hannah, meaning "gracious" or "favored", because in the Bible she was a sincere and merciful woman. Ultimately the name lost its initial 'h'. ❧ Renée (often spelled without the accent in non-French speaking countries) is a French feminine given name. Renée is the French form of the late Roman name Renatus and the meaning is reborn or born again. ❧ Stewart is relating to the royal family ruling Scotland 1371–1714 and Britain 1603–49 and 1660–1714. Nicknames: The Broken Crown Gender: Female Pronouns: She / Her Age: 124 years old Mental Age: 28 years old Birthday: March 28th Zodiac: Aries Race/Species: Nephlim Nationality ❧ Mother’s side: Angel ❧ Father’s side: Alp  (A mythological nightmare demon) ❧ Birthplace: Remote barn in upstate New York. Accent: American ❝Queen is nothing but a title. A title that I cannot claim. Nor do I want to.❞ Skin Tone: Pale Hair Color: Raven Hair Style: Straight and long, reaching far down to her hips. When it gets wet it curls up just slightly. Sometimes she will pin it up into a messy bun or ponytail. Eye Color: Naturally crimson and she has cat-like pupils. Other details about her eyes: Her dark magic can change them to a bright blue just to blend in with humanity. Under stress, fear, or change, they'll flicker away back to the natural dark red. Body Shape: Square Clothing: She'll mostly wear anything black and quick to throw on. Easy to blend into the night and flexible for when she's fighting. Height: 6'2" Weight: 135lbs Tattoos: A faint one on her back depicting butterfly wings. The color is a bright cyan. She has another that's a vine decoration from her left hip all the way up to the base of her jaw. Piercings: A simple black ball on her tongue. Birthmarks: It's kind of covered up by the vine tattoo, one on her left hip that looks like a skull. Scars and burns: Long inflamed marks on her back, stomach, and chest. She has multiple burn marks everywhere on her body from closing a wound with Dawn. ❝If you hate my cold nature stop stepping near the freezer.❞ Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Preferred Gender: She doesn't have one. Romantic Status: Single First Kiss? ❧ Swept away by one of her mentors. Their relationship was simply platonic, she tried to use him to escape. He, in returned, tried to use her for power. First Date? ❧ She will always claim she never really had one. Unless slaughtering hordes of brainwashed millennial demons count as romantic in the slightest. ❝And why would I care about your petty feelings?❞ Overall Personality: She's very cold and blunt. Always stating the obvious. She has a bit of a humorous wit to her, able to dance around someone's mental state. How they view themselves? ❧ A monster. A killer of the night, ready to snap her jaws on hunger. How others view them? ❧ She doesn't know many, only family. Rumors leavened with conjecture, she is seen as a disgrace. The words were mostly uttered by her grandfathers, tainting her image. Postive Traits: Intelligent Brave Integrity Responsible Reliable Negative Traits: Cold-Shouldered Hot-Tempered Loner Aggressive Grim Likes: Clear night skies Her flower garden Silence Sitting on her roof Exerting power Dislikes: Someone using her shadows against her Human food Enthusiastic people Changes Demons Temper: She's very quick to set off. Anyone she meets is always on thin ice. Watch where you step. Dreams: Freedom To be human To be accepted Fears: The death of humanity Accidentally killing a human Falling asleep ❝You're merely a pawn in a small game.❞ Weapons: Dawn and Dusk, they're two spectral blades bound by a soul. She can call upon them, but cannot banish them unless they are physically broken. Once broken, Dawn cannot be resummoned until the full moon, and Dusk the new moon. She has to be careful when and where she does this, Dawn can cause fires. Powers: She can control both shadow and light. The shadows are like multiple hands or persons with a deadly grip. Also with the shadows, she can make your greatest fear come to life, long enough for her to flee or attack. With light, she has multiple arrows at her fingertips and a temporary blinding power for fleeing or attacking. However, she doesn't use her light powers too often and relies on darkness. Her darkness isn't well trained and she often causes a nightmare to herself. Intelligence: 10/10 Strength: 6/10 Emotional Strength 1/10 Speed: 9/10 Agility: 10/10 Stamina: 10/10 Defense: 0/10 Wisdom: 8/10 Humor: 9/10 Common Sense: 9/10 Loyalty: 7/10 Teamwork: 0/10 Confidence: 0/10 Patience: 4/10 Anger: 10/10 Control: 3/10 Kindness: 2/10 Trust: 1/10 Physical Health: 4/10 Emotional Health: 0/10 ❝It's not negativity, sweetheart. It's called life.❞ Overall health: Fit as a fox. Nothing fully wrong except her mentality and her blood. Mental Health: She's broken. She views herself as disgusting. A monster to be reckoned with. Something to be killed and slaughtered. She also periodically hears the screams of her victims. Physical Health: Her body is frail and tiny, but due to her small frame it makes her fast and nimble. Illnesses? In all technicality, her blood is corrupted. Being of a split breed, her body doesn't know which to choose. The plasma is loose, almost like water. Yet it is dark like thick black paint. It's easy to spread the tainted drops across the grass to turn the blades black. She has to be very careful if she gets cut. Mental Disorders? PTSD. If she sees a whip or small knives, she'll either break down into a panic or cause a fight. Smokes? Yes, cigarettes. Drugs? No ❝I have seen the ups and downs of this plane. It doesn't deserve to be wiped out.❞ 〈〈 HISTORY 〉〉 Childhood Life: Spending most of it in a cell, Annie can vaguely remember the age before she was swept away. She can remember the day she had met her blades. Well, at least the spirits that attached themselves to the dark and light. Dawn and Dusk fell from her lips, naming the dead. The dead that would be forever lost if she hadn't bound them to two weapons. Before she had reached four years old the demons took her. Locked her up because she was a combination not only feared, but also forbidden. To top this off her parents had royalty in their genes. After her birth their not allowed to claim their crowns. She cannot touch either as well. She was kept in a dark cell for many years. In silence, distant flames of fires beyond to be her friend. Cold bars were her enemy. A shackle to her ankle was a parent. Teenage Life: Still in the cold lifeless cell, she stayed. As she grew older, she got cocky. Arrogant and spiteful. Lashing out anyone who came to mock her. Fed up with the noise, her grandfather issued punishment to the now sixteen-year-old. Day in and day out, she was slashed with whips upon her back. Many times it brought tears to her eyes, cried to her silent voice. The skin on her back painted in the black ooze. Many times she thought she had died, only to realize to demons controlled that as well. Adult Life: Broken and quiet. That's all that remained in the cold cave with bars. A few would come, snicker at her humiliating place. She'd glare, the eyes filled with hunger and anger. They would scurry off whenever she stirred the shadows. She had grown powerful in dark captivity. Many forget that her genes carry ones of an Alp. Able to weave in and out of nightmares, of night. Finally, a March wind rolled over the surface of her imprisonment. Her bones could feel it as she turned twenty-five. It had been many years since someone came to the bars. To snicker, to laugh. To call her disgusting, a waste of a crown. This one did not, however. A man stood, just beyond the bars, a pitiful look upon his face. Empathy? Sadness? A combination of the two? She couldn't tell. "What have they done to you?" He called out as if he knew her, crimson eyes flickering in low light. The bars pried open, shadows she did not weave. The inky hands snapped the metal bars as if they were twigs, nothing more. Stepping into the cave, he gently removed the chain. It was rusted and surprised she hadn't realized she probably could break that off on her own. The realization hit once more. She fled, faster than she ever could. Instincts kicking in, one to feed. One to slaughter. This is when she made her first regretful kill. Standing in a pool of blood, she cried. Demons can forget their morals so easily, yet angels carry that weight with a heavy chain. After the rampage, she broke down. Killing easily over one thousand humans. Swallowing every soul greedily to fulfill her hunger. Warmth touched her shoulder, darkness filled her vision. The same two she had met years before, regaining their helpful master. Dawn and Dusk remained with her this whole time. Yet stuck on the surface, spinning in circles. Unable to save their savior. They fled into the night, searching for a new home. A new calling. They settled with a plot of unclaimed land, Dusk and Annie building a cabin in the middle of the woods. Far away from society and demons. Happy Moments: She can't recall much, the faint moments of her sisters. Either a tea party with Linda, who would then accidentally freeze the plastic cups or a dance with Lina. A prank or two with Lindy, only to get into trouble soon after. She holds these shattered and faded memories as close as she can. Sad Moments: Her heart drags through the mud each time she remembers the faces she killed. At times she will cry at night because of this. The faint faces of her siblings and parents also haunt her; she desperately tries to remember. ❝Just because you're here doesn't mean I needed you.❞ Mother Name: Cassandra Stewart Status: Dead. History: In older days her name was Cassandra - Dawn would be her future name - heir to the thrones of gold. She had four girls, all witches. It is one of the laws within the gates that all angels bare one witch in their life. Finding one human to serve as mother or father and fleeing with said child. Cassandra was special, she gave the gift of the seasons to her children. Even as the years went on, every time there is a hot day or a cold winter, Annie knows who made it. Cassandra was never happy though. Living under the unending course of laws and regulations. She ventured to the mortal land one day, meeting a man with horns. At first, she didn't know what to do, beginning to arm herself with a twig. A demon stood before her, handsome no less. Tall with black hair, piercing red eyes. His horns were curled, their tips barely touching his long, elf-like ears. He gave her a smile, opening his arms to the golden beauty. He had no weapon to brandish or show off. Instead, he just wanted to admire her, gaze at the lake eyes and blonde locks. Talking can lead to common ground. They both felt trapped with their crowns, unable to burn them away. Years would go by, feelings would pump strong. Until one day a child, ebony hair, eyes bouncing between red and blue. Happy, always happy. If that child could've only stayed that way. Cassandra was called in by her own father, ridiculed. He told her she didn't know what love meant. That loving a demon was unnatural. Cries of an unwanted child made her father snap. He broke off her wings, leaving her bones shattered and feathers a bloody mess. Tossing them aside, she was squished under his boot. A king can be cruel, even the ones with a heart of gold. "Don't," her final words began to crawl out of her throat. Her face turned to him, tear-stained and coated in her own blood. "Don't hurt her." He was a fool to even think she'd beg for her own life. No, instead Cassandra groveled for the halfbreed. If she wanted to be lower than scum, so be it. He would happily oblige. The angel plummeted to earth, surrounded by sandy deserts. Crimson mixed in with creamy tans, Cassandra wasn't able to get up. She bled out, buried by the forgotten wastelands. Father Name: Dani Acor Status: Dead. History: Demons are slightly weaker, at least those who don't have strong blood behind them. Millions upon millions of types conversed under the rock. There was a prince named Dani; Dusk would be his name in later years. After the news of his missing wife, only recently marrying her, he fled to the underworld with his newborn. Demons turned heads, staring at their fallen prince. He glared back in fear. He did the thing any father would protect his little girl. Although still children themselves, Dani found the coven of four witches. It wasn't hard, the house still under his fallen wife's name. Dani spoke with the eldest of the four, holding her face in his hands. That was his only option, to trust the half-sisters to raise the nephlim. "Lindy," Dani spoke to the confused fifteen-year-old. She opened her mouth, wanting to ask how he knew her name. "Your mother, she was special," Dani didn't let the girl speak, "far beyond special. Remember that, okay? I need you to take care of your youngest sister." He was holding back his own heartbreaking cries. Lindy looked back at Lindsey in confusion, she was the youngest that they only knew. Her mouth opened again, wishing to speak. Dani squashed her curious flame. "Just trust-" a loud bang came at the door. Time ran out. "Dani boy!" A snake-like creature broke the door into wooden fragments. Its face twisted with a horrific fanged grin. The blood born alp stood protectively in front of the children, they cowered in the corner in return. Dani would go down fighting, willing to spill his blood for his only child. The fight lasted for minutes, shadows and demons arguing about right and wrong. The prince was pinned down by the snake-like creature, unable to move or fight. Dani made his last decision, he sacrificed himself to damnation. The demons dragged their prince in chains, happy with a catch. He was brought beneath the earth for eternity, his throne no longer in view. He didn't care for the cheap seat, his heart ached for his lost love. Loneliness is a silent killer, his few months of confinement and heartbreak left him dead. Dani literally died of a broken heart. Siblings Names: Linda Stewart, Lindsey Stewart, Lina Stewart, and Lindy Stewart. Status: All alive. Friends Names: Dawn and Dusk (Spirits behind her blades.) History: Dani and Cassandra were doom driven lovers, a power beyond the kings brought them back. Angels and demons never die off, simply reborn into a new body with their memories erased. These two prolonged such a thing, they didn't want to forget. However, such a thing is written for them. Forgetting little by little of each other and their child. That is until Cassandra set foot on familiar land, a house with overgrown greenery. A coven beyond doors and a child with a crown of golden horns. She wasn't alone, a presence stood beside her. The golden dead turned, meeting purple in her eyes. Flashes of a man of horror, a sweeter heart in his chest, danced before her very eyes. A sly grin spread across his faded face, arms open for the golden beauty. "Dani?" Cassandra was in tears, practically choking on her own words. It was him, the one she never wanted to forget. Before she could run into her lover's arms, she was stopped by a young girl. The girl's hair was as ebony as the hours before midnight. "Why are you crying?" The child was no more than three, her big red eyes making her look innocent. Cassandra knelt down to her own daughter, wanting desperately to touch her face. "Nothing An-, I mean," Cassandra cleared her throat. Annie would never remember her mother's face, nor know why this strange woman knew her name. "Nothing, child." Cassandra gave the little nephlim a smile. She attempted to place her hand upon the girl's head, but her heart broke. She couldn't touch her own daughter, her fingers slipping through matter. Dani stood there, stiff. He couldn't look at his own daughter, the familiar ache echoed in his soul. Agitation was soon replaced in the sad pit, his hand roaming over his face. He could barely watch this, perhaps hoping he would forget. However, it melted when his daughter popped up with a question. "Want to play?" Annie scurried for a ball in the play yard. She held up the rubber toy with the brightest smile on her face. The two dead shared a few glances, they figured why not? Wanting to share the last few moments with their creation of profound love. "What are your names?" Annie tossed the ball, but it went through Dani. There was a flaw in their plan. The nephlim wasn't going to be discouraged, she tossed the ball away and offered tag. A single rule was made; the hand of the person who was it had to go clear through the other. Her parents agreed, but Annie brought the question up again. What were their names? The dead paused, thinking on how to carefully answer. For some reason, they didn't want to state their names. They figured if Annie ran to her sisters, Lindy would definitely know something was up. No, Cassandra wasn't going to let Lindy waste her days away trying to bring back the dead. She knew the fire witch would try. "How about Dawn and Dusk?" Annie said, hoping that the two liked the names. Her parents shared a smile, that was their loophole to avoid the truth. The three laughed, a family again; at least for the few moments, they had left. That was until Dusk fell, his hand pressed against his transparent forehead. His memories were fading, along with him. Dawn quickly ran to him, her own glow brighter than his. "No, no! Dusk! No! Don't leave now! Please!" Tears filled Dawn's eyes, she knew he would fade from existence. Annie stood quietly behind her parents, a tepid expression across her face. No one will ever know what pulled her to do what she did. "I can save him." Determination was clear in Annie's heart. The child was always strange, sensing something that was never said or there. She ran into the house, dragging a book back out with her. It was bigger than her, but she did it without complaint or question. She flipped the book open acting like she knew what she was doing. Except she knew what she was clearly doing. "Annie, this isn't time for ga-!" Dawn felt a shock throughout her body, something inside of her grabbed ahold of her invisible heart. Dusk was in the same pain, neither of them was able to speak. When the pain wiped itself away, Dawn and Dusk panted to regain their breath. Whatever it was, it hurt. Badly. In the very end though, both of them felt different. They felt connected to the earth, the heavens, and the underworld again. Dawn reached out to Annie, but something appeared after she did. A bright shimmering blade stood before her gaze, lighted by flames of holy. Floating above the ground and leaving a patch of burnt dirt. Dusk grunted behind Dawn, she whipped her head to see if he was okay. He was no longer becoming a faded memory, but he held his chest in pain. Dawn took his head into her hands, she felt him. He existed in the world and so did she. Dusk let out a painful scream, the core of his chest glowing an intense purple. Just like Dawn, Dusk summoned a blade, jagged and corrupted. The weapon had thorns to rip flesh open, twists and turns to pull out guts. It was large and heavy, slamming into the earth. Becoming lodged into its own hole in the ground. Enemy: Name: Her grandfather, Coro (Father's side), the king of mayhem. (Underworld.) ❝Get the hell away from me!❞ Pessimistic or Optimistic? Pessimistic. Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert. Bookworm or Party Animal? Bookworm. Dare Devil or Cautious? Dare Devil. Logical or Emotional? Logical. Working or Relaxing? Working. Think before Speaking or Speak before Thinking? Speak before thinking. ❝And when plants die, what do we grow after?❞

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Engaged In Combat

(By popular demand, the sequel to ‘Non-Commital’! After meeting Marianne in the aftermath of her cancelled wedding, the Bog King invited the Fairy Crown Princess to visit the Dark Forest and spar with him. This is even more fun than either of them expected.) 

Technically Griselda was the one who issued the invitation, but unlike … literally every other time she had invited a woman to visit her son, Bog was open to this. Princess Marianne was a good fighter, with potential to be a great fighter, and Bog had enjoyed their first sparring match. 

“Sanctuary!” Marianne cried when he escorted her over the border. He raised a leafy eyebrow at her. “Sorry, it’s just – my dad wasn’t too happy about me cancelling the wedding. He was really looking forward to having Roland as a son-in-law. So Dad’s spent the last few days encouraging me to give Roland a second chance, so I really appreciate the love ban we’ve all heard you have.” 

Bog managed to smile. 

“I’m honestly not sure how well it’s enforced through the Dark Forest as a whole,” he admitted. “But no one will be speaking of romance in our presence.” 

“And that’s good enough for me!” 

The guards’ training grounds had various lengths and thicknesses of sticks to use for weapons. Goblins used hatchets as well, sometimes, but usually fought unarmed or with the sort of weapon that was never far out of reach in the woods.  

In the interest of fairness, Bog left his staff propped against the fence that bordered the training yard and selected a stick of roughly equal length. 

“Do I just grab one at random or is there some sort of method to choosing a good fighting stick?” asked Marianne. 

“I’d recommend one that doesn’t snap in half when you prop it up and push down at the top,” Bog demonstrated the technique, “but it really depends how you plan to attack with it. The more brittle sticks also tend to have more weight to them, if you just need to hit your enemy over the head to distract them before you run.” 

“I’m going to have a sword. I’ve always wanted … I’ve commissioned one, I just don’t have it yet.” 

Bog nodded. His opinion of Marianne’s teachers dropped another notch. She had talent, he knew, but he’d also noted her clear inexperience, and now knew she’d never even trained with a ‘proper’ weapon. 

That was actually quite surprising. The Fairy Kingdom always seemed to put more value on fancy equipment than the Dark Forest did. Shouldn’t their princess have had a sword already? 

And armour, for that matter? She was in a white and purple tunic that looked almost as fancy to his eyes as the muddy wedding gown she’d worn when they first met. 

“Here.” He tossed her a willow twig. “Willow is flexible. That should be a decent substitute for steel.” 

Marianne took a few practise swings, trying different grips. Bog did the same, adjusting to the lighter stick instead of his sceptre. 

“I’m ready,” said Marianne. 

“Begin.” 

Bog took the offensive, swinging hard at her forward leg, intending to force her either back or into the air. Marianne clearly remembered his advice about a deep stance, because instead she lowered her weight and blocked his strike. 

CLACK! 

Bog tried attacking from the other side, and – CLACK! – Marianne blocked that as well. He swung down from above, not flying, just taking advantage of being twice her height, and Marianne swung up her weapon and held it above her head in both hands. 

But that attack had been a feint, and Bog switched like a pendulum so that the lower end of his stick swung forward to catch Marianne in the stomach. 

“Oof!” 

“Your stance is good, but now you’re too rooted to the ground. You need to be heavy enough not to be knocked over but light enough that you can dodge.” 

And just like that, she was gone. In a flash of violet wings she was behind him, and – “ARGH!” – she struck his back, just below his wings. Bog fell to his knees. 

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” 

He groaned. “I’ll live. I think first blood is yours.” He got unsteadily to his feet. “Resume.” 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” 

“It was a good strike.” He bared his fangs, grinning at her. “See if you can do it again, Tough Girl.” 

Princess Marianne drove the Bog King back almost to the fence before he dodged around her and pulled her ankle from under her. She compensated with her wings, quickly enough that his next blow, aimed at her wings, didn’t catch her. 

“Go, BK!” Stuff cheered from the sidelines. 

“You can do it!” cried Thang, sitting on a first aid kit just in case one of them needed help. 

“Marianne! Marianne! If she can’t do it, no one can!” chanted the sprites Marianne had started bringing into the Dark Forest with her. 

The Bog King had Princess Marianne nearly pinned to the fence now, until she dropped to the muddy ground and slid under and between his legs. 

He turned before she could get back up and pinned her shoulder with his massive foot. She seized his ankle in both hands and, instead of pushing against it, pulled forward, forcing him off-balance. The Bog King tried to steady himself with his wings, as she had done earlier, but was startled enough to overcompensate and take off, giving the fairy princess time to jump back to her feet. 

But Princess Marianne was unarmed now. She’d dropped her stick when she ducked under her opponent, and now had only her own limbs to protect herself.

The Bog King lashed out. Suddenly the tip of his stick was at her throat and his hand was behind her neck to keep her from backing away. 

“… I yield.” 

“WOO!” Stuff and Thang cheered again. 

“It’s been weeks. Shouldn’t your sword be done?” Bog deflected Marianne’s strikes to the rhythmic clacking noise of wood against wood. 

“It is. I just … I mean, it is a real weapon. I don’t want to actually skewer you.” 

“Sticks are real weapons. You’re not going to get better with your sword unless you practice with it. Bring it next time.” 

She blew her hair out of her eyes. “And you’ll use your staff, so I’m not just slicing the sticks apart?” 

“You’d want a battle axe if you planned to do that, but yes.” 

“Is that a pun or are battle axes actually better than other blades against wooden weapons?” 

“Mostly a pun, but the weight of the axe does give it an advantage over a sword for that.” 

Marianne’s hair was a mess of sweat and leaf litter. She was wearing those dark, casual clothes she’d been favouring lately, and carrying a sword. 

“What happened to you?” Dagda wondered out loud when she sat down to dinner. 

“Bog and I had our best spar yet. He says I’m really improving.” Was that the flush of exertion or was she blushing? “I mean, I’d better be after four months, but it’s nice that he says so.” 

“Bog? … The Bog King?” Marianne had been disappearing ever since her cancelled wedding. Dagda had assumed it was to sulk or to avoid Roland. Had she been going into the Dark Forest? 

“Yeah,” she said, like this wasn’t enormously important and potentially disastrous, “and his mom invited me again to stay for snacks after, but I haven’t worked up the nerve yet to try goblin food. Maybe I’m not as adventurous as I thought.” She laughed. 

“Since when have you been sparring with the Bog King?” 

The goblin royal family had been invited to Marianne’s wedding as a matter of protocol, but left immediately when it was cancelled, and Dagda had assumed that Marianne hadn’t had the chance to meet them. 

“About four months now. Didn’t I just say that? Bog saw me attacking a training dummy and offered to teach me properly.” 

“Is …” The fairy king looked for a way to ask his daughter this delicately. “Is that why you haven’t reconsidered, about Roland?” 

Marianne gave him a dark look, darkened further by her grim, streaked makeup. 

“I have not and will never ‘reconsider Roland’ because he doesn’t love me and I no longer love him. Sparring with Bog is irrelevant to all of that.” 

Bog was panting. Marianne was panting, too, but very proud of herself for wearing out her teacher and sparring partner. 

“Had enough?” She raised her sword again, not as quickly as usual. 

“I could do this all day.” Bog raised his staff into a matching position. 

Marianne aimed a stab at his belly. He knocked it aside and she stumbled, but that put her in a position to swing at his back. He had to dodge to keep her from slicing into him, and ended up falling on his side with a grunt. 

“I yield. Your other teachers haven’t corrupted you with bad habits,” he said. “Ye’re … very impressive.” 

“Other teachers?” Of course she had other teachers, but how would, say, history or economics affect her fighting style? Maybe her dancing lessons … 

“I wasn’t pleased when we met,” Bog got back up, slowly, “with your obvious talent being held back by lack of skills. I didn’t think your first fighting teachers had taught ye well, since your techniques were … But you’ve improved so much since then.” 

“Bog … you’re my only fighting teacher. Before we met, I was self-taught.” 

“What?” 

She shrugged. “I’m the Crown Princess.” 

“Exactly – royalty has to be able to fight, in case an assassin gets past the guards. Or is a guard.” 

“Okay, maybe here that’s true, but I was always told that, as a princess and eventual Queen, I wouldn’t have to fight physically, ever. I wanted to learn anyway, so I watched the guards and worked out some drills on my own, but, like I said, I’m self-taught.” 

“That’s just irresponsible!” Bog’s tone shifted from baffled to indignant. “Or it’s a conspiracy, with a guard wanting the Royal Family helpless for when they lead a coup against you.” 

“I …” Marianne had never considered that possibility for why Roland, in particular, had always discouraged her from swordplay, when she’d suggested he teach her during their courtship. “I think it might just be mostly sexism? Dad was a knight before he married Mom and became a prince, and if I’d been a prince it would probably have been different.” 

“That still doesn’t make sense to me.” Bog made a dissatisfied noise. “Well, at least you know how to fight now.” 

“When you come next week, instead of sparring, I should give you a tour,” said Bog. “The leaves are starting to shift for autumn. It’s not as perfect as the forest under the moon, but the days are at their most colourful right now.” He gave her a sideways glance and a small smile. “Fairies love colour, right?” 

“That’s a stereotype, but I’ll give you a pass because it’s true. And because I’ve always wanted to explore the Dark Forest.” 

“What?” His smile grew almost as wide as his mother’s. “Really?”��

“Yeah. To see new things, to have adventures …” Marianne’s voice became small and wistful. “It’s … all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“I’ll show you everything,” Bog promised. 

Marianne readied her sword. “I’ll consider it my prize when I win this match.” 

Bog laughed. “Or a consolation after I win, Tough Girl!” 

“It is ON!” 

She lunged. Marianne usually took the offensive during their spars. 

They’d been sparring every week for almost half a year now. Over the past month or so, Bog had been giving Marianne fewer instructions and suggestions, and now she felt like they were on almost even footing. He had an advantage since he had been training longer, but Marianne thought she genuinely challenged him now. 

She would earn this victory! 

Bog nearly bent over backwards to stop Marianne from stabbing him in the heart. This was turning out better than Griselda had hoped. 

Bog swung at Marianne, who hopped over his staff and took to the air, laughing. He took off to follow her. 

A crowd of goblins had gathered to watch. The fighters seemed oblivious to the cheering and the betting. Marianne’s cheerleaders – handmaidens, but Griselda usually saw them while they were screaming for the princess’ victory from the sidelines of the training yard – were waving their tiny arms and occasionally coordinating themselves to spell out her name in mid-air with their floating bodies. 

Marianne led Bog in a circuit around the training ring and then dropped to strike at his legs from below. He could attack her from above, but she was keeping him from landing, letting him wear himself out trying to get around her and back onto the ground to conserve his energy. 

When Griselda asked Marianne to come to the Dark Forest, she had expected that the future Fairy Queen and the Bog King would at least develop a friendship and forge diplomatic ties, and thought that maybe meeting someone he could commiserate with over the heartbreak he still wouldn’t talk to Griselda about would help her son to recover emotionally and open him up to loving again … 

And of course part of her had hoped the two would fall in love with each other, but she honestly hadn’t been expecting that to work! Griselda refused to give up, but part of her was starting to despair of ever finding the right person for her precious boy. 

Then suddenly, there was Marianne, fierce and angry and on the cusp of turning bitter, just like Bog himself right before he first banned love – but a person Griselda could push towards him whom he wouldn’t automatically push away, because it hadn’t occurred to Bog at the time to see Marianne as a potential suitor! 

But seeing the fire in each of their eyes as they looked at each other now – “Don’t give up on me, almighty Bog King, you can do this!” Marianne taunted – Griselda was sure that Bog now saw Marianne in a different light. 

She just had to get her stubborn son to admit it and start wooing the lady outside of the sparring ring. 

“Well, well, well, now, what’s all this?” 

Marianne’s face twisted in a snarl when she heard that drawl, but she didn’t turn from Bog to acknowledge their new audience member. Since her father found out she was sparring with Bog, a few fairies, elves, and brownies had occasionally joined the goblins in watching them. 

But never this one. 

“You fairies don’t have training yards?” snorted one of the goblins dismissively. Marianne thought it might be Stuff, who was now officially her favourite of Bog’s employees. 

“Oh, we do. Ours just aren’t so … rustic.” 

Marianne ducked the sceptre’s head and thrust at Bog’s shoulder, nearly catching his spurs. 

“That sounds impractical,” said another goblin. Had that been Brutus? Marianne was starting to get good at identifying her and Bog’s usual crowd of admirers by voice alone, even if part of her training was to ignore them. “You’ve got to train in the kind of terrain you’re going to fight in. Unless you never do fight outside.” 

More goblins laughed, clearly at Roland. Maybe Brutus was Marianne’s favourite. 

“I must admit, I never knew goblins had a sweet side, but it is sweet of your king to let Marianne pretend she’s winning.” 

“The Bog King is evil and he obviously has the upper hand right now.” Portia was right, at least about the way the match was going, which was Marianne’s own fault for getting distracted by ringside chatter. “The Princess is nearly his equal in skill, and when she wins, she does so by that skill.” 

“Do you need a break?” Bog asked it in a whisper, disguised as a hiss when Marianne nearly knocked his sceptre out of his hands. Normally he would taunt her loudly, so he must have noticed Roland as well. 

“Not in front of him,” Marianne hissed back. 

“Now, I don’t mean to offend y’all,” said Roland, “but if Marianne’s a real challenge for your leader to fight, then … well, that says something, you know?” 

“How would it be offensive to say our greatest fighter is challenged by a prodigy?” Aw, Thang … 

“I just meant she isn’t, ah, properly trained, compared to a real fairy knight. You know, like me.” 

“You and I could spar once they’re done,” offered Brutus. “In the interests of comparing fairy and goblin fight training.” 

Bog disarmed Marianne. She flew after her sword and caught it before it could hit the ground, but at a cost. Bog was on Marianne’s heels, and when she swung to block his sceptre, the blade clanged against the metal at an angle that sent awful shudders up Marianne’s arm. 

No, she couldn’t lose, not in front of Roland, there was no shame in losing to Bog but Marianne couldn’t lose in front of Roland … 

“Ah, I would –” Roland suddenly sounded nervous, “but I – really – ought to – uh, go. Now. Bye.” 

Okay, that settled it; Brutus was Marianne’s new favourite. 

“Are you alright?” Bog asked her a few minutes later. He had won and Marianne was now trying to massage the lingering aches out of her arm. “You seemed … upset, when that other fairy showed up. You’ve never minded them before.” 

“That was … He was … the guy. The one I was going to marry the day you and I met.” 

“Ah.” Bog asked no follow-up questions.  

Dawn and Sunny were much more welcome additions to the audience than Roland had been. Dawn was especially welcomed by the goblins, because she had brought muffins. 

The song Dawn and Sunny performed in Marianne’s honour was not so well-received. The spar had to be cancelled for Bog to reign in the resulting chaos. 

“We’re sorry!” Sunny cried, hiding behind Marianne in the face of the goblin king’s potential wrath. 

“So very sorry!” said Dawn earnestly. 

“But in our defence, how were we supposed to know goblins are scared of sopranos?” 

“Is that what ye call it?” Bog demanded, attempting to pry a terrified Thang off his leg. “It sounded like the shrieking cry of death itself. Which I suppose is appropriate to a song of battle-glory.” 

“I should give you a tour of my kingdom,” Marianne said. She caught Bog’s staff with her sword and pushed it to one side, nearly tripping him with his own weapon. “I’m always coming over to yours.” 

“Is winter the best time for that?” Bog teased. “What about all your beautiful flowers?” 

“Sure, there’s that, but in winter it’s like –” she jumped over his attempt to trip her up, her cloak flaring “– once it’s true winter, with snow and ice instead of cold slush and gray dead plants everywhere, the whole Fairy Kingdom is transformed.” 

Bog tried to lunge in for another strike. She swiped at his leg, forcing him to step back quickly. 

“Everything looks made of clouds or crystals. It’s as beautiful as summertime, just in a different way. Like how you said the daytime fall Forest is different from the Forest by moonlight.” 

Her sword caught the sunlight reflected off the snow and shone like the moon as she raised it high. Bog took the same stance, the amber in his staff spraying golden glimmers all around them. 

“I suppose it would be … an adventure.” 

“Sire! Sire!” Thang huffed for breath. “Terrible news!”

The Bog King and Princess Marianne both redirected their attacks to miss, too invested in the momentum to pull them entirely. 

“What do the mushrooms say this time?” 

“Not the mushrooms, I saw this myself! A fairy with a primrose petal got into the castle! We caught him in the dungeons!” 

“What?!” 

“We burned the petal and locked him in a cage, but what should we do now?” The goblin looked between his towering king and the foreign princess whose subject Thang had just helped imprison. 

“I hate spring,” His Majesty growled. “I suppose we’d better deal with this together.” 

The look on the fairy princess’ face was scarier than the look on the Bog King’s when they saw the caged fairy. 

“ROLAND!” 

“Buttercup, I can explain!” 

Thang had gotten the impression that most fairies didn’t actually respect Princess Marianne’s fighting skills, so it was nice to see one reacting with the proper terror. And the toxic flower nickname was flattering, even if she didn’t actually look flattered. 

“Oh, I think I can guess,” she snarled. “Bog King, I have no objection to this criminal remaining here to face whatever punishment is deemed fit by the kingdom in which he committed his crime, but I suppose I ought to discuss the matter with my father to see if we’ll want him back alive when you’re done.” 

“You know that I know,” Marianne panted, “that love potions are dangerous.” Her sword clashed against Bog’s staff and raised sparks. “But if she’d swear an oath not to brew them anymore, would you release the Sugar Plum Fairy? Or at least turn her over to my Kingdom’s custody?” 

Bog scowled at her. “I trust you. I don’t trust her.” 

They didn’t have an audience, which was rare, and was why Marianne had chosen today to ask about Plum. She decided to push the issue a little harder. 

“If the primroses keep being destroyed, then she can’t brew the potion anymore, and then it won’t matter that she never does a background check on whoever requests one.” 

“It doesn’t even always work, you know.” 

“… What do you mean?” 

His scowl deepened and he looked away. Marianne slowed her attacks so that she wouldn’t accidentally hurt him. 

“I used it once.” 

She nearly dropped her sword. “What?” 

“She was the sweetest, most beautiful person I ever knew. I … was reckless, and foolish, and never should’ve done it, and I know that now, but at the time I was … I thought I was so in love; that I would never meet anyone like her again and couldn’t live if she didn’t feel the same. So I thought the potion would help.” He shook his head sharply. “Instead it just opened her eyes, and mine, to what a monster I am.” 

Marianne felt sick, knowing Bog – Bog, her friend, who called himself evil but had shown her nothing but kindness – had done something so twisted and selfish. 

On the other hand … 

“If you were really a monster, I don’t think you’d regret it.” A thought occurred to her. “Wait, is that why you banned love? ‘If I can’t have it, nobody else can either’? That’s so … petty.” 

The sparring match quickly fell by the wayside of the ensuing debate. Marianne had no plans to fall in love again herself, and had – as she’d confessed to Bog in the past – enjoyed being in a place where no one pestered her about that, but banning an emotion from an entire kingdom in response to a single rejection was, upon reflection, somewhat extreme. 

“And it’s not like it’s stopped your mother from trying to set you up with someone anyway,” was one of the points Marianne would later be particularly smug about making. 

By the next week’s sparring match, the Bog King had amended the Dark Forest’s ban on romance and love potions to only a ban on love potions. The Sugar Plum Fairy remained imprisoned, but negotiations were underway to turn her over to the Fairy Kingdom. 

“Do you realize we’ve been doing this for over a year?” asked Marianne while she and Bog did warm-up stretches. 

“Your skills have gone from acceptable to amazing,” said Bog. 

“Actually, I meant … being friends. I feel like we’ve made headway into actually creating a sustainable, positive relationship between the Fairy Kingdom and the Dark Forest instead of the strain we had before.” 

“… Aye, that too. Which is a credit to your skills as a diplomat.” 

“Flatterer. You’ve totally been involved, too. Hey, I should give you another tour – now that all our beautiful flowers are back.” 

“And you should stay for an evening sometime. The Dark Forest really does look its best on full moon nights.” 

Marianne stabbed and sliced at Bog, every attack missing as he twisted and wove and parried, but none of his strikes came near her skin either. 

They whirled around each other, moving faster and faster. 

Bog nearly caught Marianne’s hair in the elaborate metalwork around the amber of his sceptre. 

Marianne nearly clipped off one of Bog’s shoulder spurs, or possibly his entire arm. 

Every clang of metal against metal set off a shower of sparks, adding burns as an extra element of danger to an already intense battle. 

They had started training in the Fairy Kingdom occasionally, and the knights’ training yard was empty of even an audience tonight due to the late hour. Bog had escorted Marianne home from the long-promised moonlit tour of his lands and she had suggested a spar before he went back, “so you’ll stay awake from the rush instead of dozing off in mid-air.” 

Marianne used her wings to great advantage, flashing light off their reflective scales so that Bog could not always predict which way she was about to move. 

But Bog’s eyes were better in the dark than hers, and he hit her hand with the undecorated end of his staff – less visible in the night, without any amber bound to it – and knocked her weapon away. 

When Bog disarmed Marianne this time, he caught her with his staff across her back, his arms on either side of her, so she couldn’t just fly after her airborne sword as she so often did. 

Her wings were pinned. Her arms were not. 

Bog expected her to punch him. 

Marianne expected herself to punch him. 

Instead, she grabbed his shoulders at the juncture where his spurs emerged – they rattled in his surprise – and pulled his head down and her body up, and kissed him. 

Bog dropped his staff. Some part of his mind suspected that might have been Marianne’s goal, but most of him didn’t care because she was kissing him and he was preoccupied with kissing her back. 

It was not a perfect kiss. Bog’s nose was squished awkwardly into Marianne’s cheek. Her hands, putting so much of her weight on his shoulders, created uncomfortable pressure at the base of his spurs, and her wrists started to ache quickly. 

Then they both broke contact to breathe, and Bog picked Marianne up, and they both turned their heads so that their faces met at a different angle, and Marianne wrapped her hands around the back of Bog’s head, and the second kiss was exponentially better. 

Blue eyes – so perfectly blue – and brown eyes – such a pretty shade of brown – met gazes and held, luminous in the surrounding dark. 

Their heartbeats were loud, deafeningly loud, and perfectly synchronized, but not so loud that they drowned out what Bog and Marianne both said to one another in that moment of perfect unity. 

“Marry me.” 

Being a large and diverse kingdom, the Dark Forest actually had a number of different wedding rituals. One of them was a choreographed battle between those getting married. It was to symbolise how they were powerful enough to protect each other in hard times. 

Marianne agreed right away when Bog insisted that this goblin tradition be included, in meetings with their parents and the various officials appointed to merge Fairy Kingdom and Dark Forest customs for the ceremony. 

Officially, it was to honour the nature of their courtship. Unofficially, it was so they could vent some of their stress after enduring the inevitable pomp and formality of a Royal Wedding. 

After their fight, panting in one another’s arms, Marianne walked her fingers teasingly up her husband’s back and whispered in his ear, “I am so glad you came to my wedding.” 

[coincidencetheories]

The Gatewatch Have Failed Each Task So Far

There’s been a lot of talk on my feed about how the Gatewatch are just waltzing through the challenges they face like a home-made banner at a pep rally. While they are all currently whole in body, and the perceived threat from each plane is no longer actively threatening, follow me down this line of thought.

The Gatewatch have failed at what they have set out to do, every time.

Their name is synonymous with failure.

Battle For Zendikar

Nissa and Gideon toil on Zendikar. Ulamog is loose and really bringing everyone’s grand Hedrons and Felidars game night down. Scion and Spawn scuttle around, and the very color is draining out of the mana. Gideon hits his main man Jace up for a solid to gather some help, which Jace initailly fails to do, asking LIliana and Chandra, who for diverse reasons have bigger personal demons they are wrestling with. So Jace, heads back to Gideon, and decides what he needs most is information. Nissa is looking for Ashaya, as Nissa did for several stories in a row. Turns out Nissa just had to believe. But Jace stumbles upon Ugin, doing vague and portentous spirit dragon things, as spirit dragons do, at his Eye. He tells Jace “These are beings beyond our understanding, here for a purpose we cannot fathom’ and then proceeds to give a very understandable metaphor about fishermen in streams. But he tells Jace that they can’t just blow up Ulamog. It will have untold ramifications now and in whatever distopian future we can bring ourselves to imagine.  (Side note... what were the ramifications of metaphorically driving a stake through the hand of the fisherman for 10,000 years? Riddle me that, Ugin dear.)

So Jace knows the stakes Ulamog is a fragile and precious part of an ecosystem beyond our ken. So he agrees that perhaps just pinning him to a butterfly display is the best course of action. Jace, Nissa, Kiora, Gideon and Ob Nixilis respectively fail, fail, lose their pet leviathan, drown in a puddle, and successfully disrupt this plan using the tried and true ‘Surprise Kozilek with a chair from the top rope’ method. Ob reignited, Walked on, walked back and captured three planeswalkers. And he would have gotten away with it to, if it wasn’t for that meddling pyromancer.

Oath of the Gatewatch

What Gate do the Gatewatch watch, exactly?

Sea-gate. The Gatewatch are watching the Sea Gate fall, to Ulamog, then to Ulamog again, then to Kozilek and Ulamog.

Now a lot of nifty stuff happens in OGW, not least of which is the insight we get through General Tazri of what a world where Kozilek out-watches the gate looks like. And in the end, Zendikar is saved from the predation of the two titans. But Jace and co had to physically drag multi-demensional beings into three dimentional space, then channelXfireball in a way that hadn’t been done since the days of the oldwalkers. Impressive, no?

Imagine you go to the doctor and you find out you have a blood disease that delicate surgery could halt the ravages of. Now imagine that, while you were under anesthesia, , your doctor slipped up and the cancer was about to kill you before the Dr. House stormed in and told the surgery team to flush your entire body with pure oxygen, then light it on fire, flash burning away all the bad stuff. Your life is, indeed saved. Phew. I was worried there for a minute.

But would you call that a successful surgery?

Shadows over Innsmouth Innistrad

We have ourselves a good old fashioned mystery here. With Ugin’s warning ringing in our ear to remember they came as three, all apparently we had to figure out was who that mysterious ‘They’ were, that Ugin referred to in the middle of a conversation about the Eldrazi Titans. The stage is set. Liliana has a veil, Tamiyo has a Journal, Thraben has an inspector, and Jace has too many cloaks. Also, too many clues. Avacyn is going crazy. Bruna and Gisela start doing their Shining Twins cosplay, despite Sigarda telling them repeatedly that it creeps her out, and The Gitrog Monster is a fan of 1990s Elton John . 

But who is this mysterious corrupting force, and seriously, what’s with all the spaghetti. Sorin’s mansion of foreboding has been renovated, but he’s nowhere to be found! Jace follows the hundred of arrow shaped rocks and finds Nephalia! Zombies! Mystery is solved, it must be Liliana! Liiiana says no. oh. The angels are turning on the humans, Avacyn must be stopped! Jace has GOT this one, guys.... nope. Jace is rescued by Tamiyo, and Sorin permanently grounds his daughter who in no way resembles his former protege. Well, Another successful investigation.Except it’s not. Jace, you don’t know what it is at all right now, in fact you don’t find out until...

Eldritch Moon

...until Emrakul emerges from the water, like a tribute to all those bond girls before you. “I know who it is now!” says Jace, thinking he’s Hercule Poirot, but is in fact barely keeping up with Captain Hastings. So here we are, Eldritch horror setting up residence in the middle of Thraben, and creating life like there’s no tomorrow, which might just well be the case. If only there was an inter-dimensional team of powerful mages, who had some dealings with.... oh my it’s the Gatewatch. We need the Gatewatch, don’t we. Well, they got together just in time, didn’t they. Innistrad, is today your lucky day. Jace 'walks to Zendikar, where presumably the Naya walkers are ‘overseeing’ the Zendikar rebuilding efforts from the comfort of a king-sized bed built for three. Come fastest, Jace cries, What’s with your outfit, they reply, Then off they go. (meanwhile Sorin and Nahiri two oldwalkers that are battling with current generation powers, must feel like two former boxing champions having a punch-on in their retirement home. But that’s not really germane to the success or failure of the Gatewatch.) Smash cut to the Battle of Thraben. Olivia and the vampires are here. Sigarda, Thalia, St Traft, form an unlikely alliance, killing Brisela. Also Arlinn Cord and the wolves. Surely they are around here somewhere during this battle? Maybe they just were on the other side of town. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Liliana is drunk on Chain Veil power and summons zombies by the hordeful and marches on the town. The Gatewatch are in the thick of it, somehow managing not to get sural’d to pieces every time Gideon has a backswing. Emrakul’s massive form crowns the town. The vampires, humans, geists, even Rem Karolus’s are driven back. Only Jace and the Gatewatch can help us now. They try their most successful Eldrazi Titan-defeating play in the playbook, aaand... it fails. It fails so badly that Tamiyo is about to read her plane-destroying story spell. But Emrakul and Jace had a mutual Zach-Morris ‘Time-out’ and Jace saved the sanity of the gatewatchers and Tamiyo (by delving into their deepest, darkest story hooks, apparently) and Emmy simply re-wrote Tamiyo’s story, taking a vacation into the moon for the now.

Was that a win? What aims were achieved? Again the ‘plane was saved’, but despite all the effort that Jace and co. put in, the final call was Emrakuls. And i doubt she locked herself in without taking the key with her.

So, Zendikar is safe. But the ecosystem of the Multiverse may be irreparably altered; innistrad has gone from passively being influenced by Emrakul to ACTIVELY being influenced by Emrakul to being passively influenced by Emrakul again. Great job guys and gals. Which leaves us with...

Kaladesh

You know, I wonder exactly how many mage traps Captain Baral has around the city, Whether they are one-countermagic-fits-all, or if he has to lead the fire mages to different ornately engineered snares than the telepaths. Also, Can you planeswalk to the plane that you’re on? If you can, neither Nissa or Chandra know of it. And I have to say, I guess that in the Kaladesh block, ultimately the Gatewatch succeeded. Succeeded in picking the queen in Three Card Monte while street hustler Tezzeret picked their metaphorical pocket. Yes, they saved Pia. But Tezzeret simply used the conflict between the Consulate of benign-if-overly-paternalistic-bureaucrats and the revolution-if-that’s-alright-with-the-rest-of-you guys renegades to snatch up the inventions and Stockholm Syndrome the inventors.

Aether Revolt

So while Chandra is focused on the personal issues, and their ramifications vis-a-vis the cancer within the consulate, Jace and Liliana, with backing vocals from Gideon and Ajani, identify Tezzeret’s plans with, well with anything Tezzeret plans is going to be bad news. Especially when they find out about the planar portal. So they defeat him! I mean, do they? He puts something suspiciously like the functioning part of the portal into his own arm and then planeswalks away as the roof caves in. The Bridge on Kaladesh is no longer functional. But we find out that Tezzeret is doing something (planar portal or othewise) for Bolas. And the Scooby Gang have no idea what that, in fact is, or if he completed it, or anything.

Going Forward

So each time, the Gatewatch have gotten something accomplished that subjectively gets them a tick in the win column, but with more scrutiny are questionable at best. Going to Amonkhet with no plan, no intel, and no backup just because ‘well, bolas would use that time better’ seems like a great way to stumble into, once again, a technical victory that has lasting consequences that are at best uncertain, and at worst offer comfort to the enemy.But I suppose, given their track record, going in with no plan merely skips the Gatewatch past the part where they come up with a plan and then completely fail to execute on it.