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ravenloftian · 3 months

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Innocence Corrupted

January 22, Y357 Game Session 6/21/2024

The party leaves Vallaki on horseback, heading toward Krezk on the Old Svalich Road. Enormous trees crowd the path, their massive trunks resembling the columns of a temple for fell beasts. Except for the tread of their horses' hooves, the dusky air is smothered in silence. Sometime in the afternoon, the light flees as if an impenetrable cloud has engulfed the sun. It is dark as night for a few seconds. Then the daylight returns, grayer, and a strange breeze suddenly moans through the wintry, snowy forest.

They look to the ground to check their bearings, but the road seems to have vanished. The breeze has turned into a chill wind, and its moan deepens. Upon the wind, the party hears the unmistakable screams of a small child nearby. Quickly, the party moves to investigate. The cries pierce like a beacon through the forest, growing stronger and clearer as they thread their way through the maze of trees. After passing a few more trees, a clearing opens.

There, framed between the ponderous trunks of two ancient trees, stands a small girl. Beyond her trembling silhouette, an enormous tree pitches maniacally from side to side as though caught in some otherworldly gale. As they draw near, they see that the tree's branches do not move with the randomness of wind but instead with calculating and sentient evil. Even the brawny roots stir, pulling from the stony ground, lashing out across the clearing, and sinking down again.

Then, they catch sight of the body of a man, snagged among the higher boughs and seeming to writhe in a futile struggle to break free. The party conquers their fear and rushes in to try to help the man and simultaneously shield the girl. Upon seeing the tree tear the man apart and eat him whole, the party flees for their lives with the little girl in tow.

After escaping, they finally get a good look at the child. She is about seven years old, with bronze-colored hair that emerges from beneath a frilly hat and flows smoothly to her shoulder blades. An aristocratic beauty hovers elusively about her even though her eyes are wide with fear, and she is shaking all over. Her complexion is pale and smooth, and her eyes are a deep azure. She wears a long box coat of fine red wool with brass buttons and a stand-up collar. From under the cuffs and collar protrudes a finely embroidered sateen waist shirt. Upon her hands are silk gloves. She holds a torch in one hand, and in the other, she has a doll in a lacy dress. The girl's walking skirt is made of royal blue wool and wears thick stockings and high-button boots.

In addition to her understandable terror, the party notices a marked sadness that haunts the child's features—a sadness that seems to extend beyond the terror of what she has just seen.

The child becomes insistent that the party light her torch, even if the party carries other light sources. She says that fire will keep her safe from the bad things. When the characters ask her name, she tells them she is Elenia Windalla. And when asked how she came to be in such a predicament, tremors of fear and distress play across her smooth face, and horrible images seem to stream past her eyes, like the reflection of racing storm clouds. At length, the child gathers her strength and begins to speak:

“Mother and father were poisoned and Uncle Dory came to take me away but he said we have to go through the bad woods and he says if we have fire we’ll be safe but the bad things didn’t come at us for one whole day so Uncle Dory says we’ll use torches only at night but then the tree started moving and grabbed him and now who will take care of me in the bad woods?”

Elenia then begs the party to escort her through the woods to her uncle’s house. She is all alone and will surely be killed in the woods unless someone protects her. When she doesn't cease crying, the party agrees and begins to trek toward the girl's house.

As they do so, night begins to descend, and they stop to make camp.

Something huge and shapeless shifts in the shadows beyond the ring of trees. Though the breeze is gentle, you hear the unmistakable sound of branches crunching and striking against each other. The child screams and begins to mutter frantically.

“Need fire! Need fire!”

The child begins to gather more wood, piling it on the flames. Frightened, she tries to convince the party, “We’ll be safe if we have fire!”

Val uses his bag of endless dowels to make a gigantic bonfire much to the girl's delight. As the flames leap up, casting fiendish shadows upon the trees, the motion beyond the clearing ceases. Then comes a slow, grating sound as though an enormous monster is backing away.

They go to bed after supping on rations and establishing a watch order.

Elenia settles down in Gray's tent.

That night, all those who are asleep have vivid dreams except Gray. All discuss these dreams with each other at some point.

Val's Dream:

As you sleep, your mind cycles through phantoms and fragments of your recent adventures-battles and monsters, darkness and dawn-shreds of sensations tumbling like leaves through your mind. Then a tide of fear slowly seeps over the whirling memories, fear darker than night. The terror congeals, black and hard, into a depthless, suffocating night. Then hope slices through the black terror. You feel you may go blind staring at it, but it is too beautiful to tear your eyes away. As you gaze deeper into the radiant hope, you see that Elenia is its source.

Percival's Dream:

You dream you are flying. Above you hangs the blue vault of the heavens, and below you drift mountainous clouds on a continent of air. Not by wings or magic do you fly, but by holding to the hand of a child. Elenia soars beside you, lending power to your flight. She smiles at you, her eyes filled with joy and hope. Then something goes terribly wrong. Elenia is pitching unsteadily. A stream of crimson issues from her back. You spot an arrow that has shot through her. Suddenly you are plummeting, and the sky and the world below turn to blackness.

Brother Andrei's Dream:

You dream that you are falling from a cliff. The rocky face tears your body apart as you tumble hopelessly downward. When you smash into the ground, you are merely a broken pile of bones and flesh. Yet you live, and you suddenly have to wonder if you cannot die. The merciless sun pounding down on you is abruptly eclipsed. It is Elenia, leaning over your broken form, laying her hands upon your wounds. You feel life-energy course like fire into your frame. Gashes close, broken bones fuse, and the terror and pain in your mind turn to joy. You are whole again-whole as you never have been before.

Cedric's Dream:

Elenia appears in a deep woodland. You see that her heart is black as coal, and she knows you know her secret. The child-guise she wears peels away. Beneath the innocent exterior, she is a withered, craggy sorceress of evil. Her fingertips are black with poison and her clawlike nails are sharp as daggers. She swipes viciously at you. Her claws sink in deeply. You feel the poison seep into your blood. All goes dark. In the final ebb of your dying mind, you realize that Elenia must die! Elenia must die . . . must die. . . must die. . . .

When it is Cedric's turn to watch, he confesses a terrible nightmare and is convinced the child is evil. "She must die," he tells Percival. "She is evil and came to me in a dream."

Percival is shocked by his cousin's accusations over a nightmare and tells him not to do anything stupid. Cedric snaps out of it and agrees. "Of course, cousin. It was just a dream. I would never harm a defenseless child. Rest, all will be well."

The following morning dawns cold and damp. As the party stretch their aching muscles and gather their provisions, they notice great troughs and scars on the ground around the edge of the camp. From the massive disruption of soil, they can see that at least one evil treant circled the camp a few times during the night. Elenia stands in the midst of the camp, gazing up toward the canopy of leaves. At length, she announces to no one in particular, “Uncle Dory said go toward the dawn.”

Brother Andrei casts Augury to try to get a sign for the course of action they should take in the near future, but after the spell is cast he is more confused than ever. He sees a raven and a dove fly in circles, sometimes clashing mid-air and other times flying in harmony. Their movements create a sense of tension and unease.

Though the party cannot see the sun because of the thick fog, they can tell that dawn has come in the direction the little girl is pointing.

And so the journey continues with Elenia seated atop Gray's horse.

All through the morning, the child leads the party through the dark and rambling wood. She insists upon carrying a torch, and looks to every side for more attacks, but none come.

By noon, you reach a narrow road. A stone’s throw down the road, the adventurers see a Vistani wagon. Its canary-yellow wheels and cherry-red sideboards starkly contrast the oppressive white of the wintry forest. Outside the vardo sits a gnarled woman draped in a ratty but colorful shawl. She motions for the party to approach.

Val, Percival, Cedric, and Brother Andrei approach against Elenia's wishes to stay away from gypsies.

The old woman opens her hand and says, "Greetings travelers, I am Madamme Ragnyn, two silvers, I will read your collective fortune. Come inside, take a seat."

Val agrees, and the party enters the wagon and sits down.

Despite the cheerful colors and cleanness of the wagon’s exterior, the interior feels cramped and cluttered. It carries the weary smell of a place that serves as a bedroom, kitchen, parlor, and transport. The bent old woman moves through the wagon with a surprising deftness that bespeaks a lifetime of such confinement. She arranges small crates and rickety stools, enough for the party and herself then settles like a vulture upon a low seat. She produces a small crystal ball from her robes, then sets a piercing eye upon them. She puts her hand out, palm up.

Val hands her the money, and the reading begins.

The old gypsy woman leans laboriously into her task, her craggy hands caressing the clear crystal with amazing delicacy. The glass ball seems to be another eye for her. Although the crystal does not glow, you suddenly realize that the room has become unsettlingly dark. Then the crone’s voice rings out:

"Much darkness...much darkness...one among you is deceived...one among you thinks to do the right thing, but does evil...one among you, though good once and kind has been turned to great evil by this land...one among you must be slain to save the others..."

The reading is interrupted by the shrill shriek of a horrified child from outside the wagon. The crone leaps up, jostling her crystal ball, and rushes for the door. Glaring daylight spills into the dark wagon as the Vistani woman rushes out.

As the party ventures outside, they see the child scream in fear as she tries to scramble up a tree. From the brambles below, four black forms suddenly surge. They are wolves, snarling and drooling. They reach the tree's base in moments, carefully skirting the girl's torch, and leap at the screaming girl. One catches hold of her dress and for a moment she loses her hold on the tree branches and slips down. She shrieks in terror as another set of slavering jowls clamps brutally on her dress.

Gray's arrows deflect the attention from the girl, and the wolves quickly turn and head for the horses.

Two of them latch on to Brother Andrei's horse, and another two onto Percival's.

During the melee with the wolves, a familiar yet unexpected figure appears. Priestess and Dawnslayer Daciana emerges from the wood, her quarterstaff twirling, and smacks one of the wolves dead. Cedric gives her a quick greeting and returns to the fight.

Within moments, the Vistani woman packs her wagon and leaves, disappearing in the thick fog.

The wolves are quickly dispatched, but the mystery of their appearance deepens when they vanish into thin air.

When the battle is over, Daciana introduces herself as a cleric of the Morninglord. She has been sent from Vallaki to find the party with urgent news for Brother Andrei. The Vossmeyers sent an urgent message via raven to the temple in Lunamire, begging Andrei to come to the town of Barovia, where they are now based. His younger sister has fallen ill and needs his help.

Since the road is still nowhere to be found, Brother Andrei continues the journey with his fellows.

The party follows the girl's lead through the forest with no end in sight. When night approaches, Val begins to search for a suitable camp. He thinks he finds the perfect place–a large fallen log, but upon hitting it with his sword to make sure it's dead, the grumbling grinding sound coming from the woods makes him reassess. Val now has a healthy fear of killer trees.

As they settle down for the evening, Elenia is kept busy with the dowel bag. Brother Andrei questions her and finds out she was orphaned and now lives with her aunt and uncle in the forest. Her uncle is a lumberjack (and he's OK!), and they were headed to Vallaki to get some grain. Daciana questions the story, seeing how the girl is dressed like an aristocrat. Elenia shrugs and says she always wears her best to town.

That night, the party doubles up on the watches. Elenia takes Daciana's hand and insists on sleeping in her tent. Once inside, she tries to kiss the woman, but Daciana refuses.

As everyone falls asleep, the nightmares begin.

During the watch, Percival and Cedric suddenly feel a terrible weakness come over them. Even lifting a tea kettle becomes difficult. They are figuring it out when, out of nowhere, Elenia's doll leaps at them from the darkness. The infernal thing bites Percival's neck, ripping out a chunk of flesh. Both paladins begin to scream and scramble, but their screams fall on deaf ears. Sapped of all strength, they lose their battle with the doll golem.

The first to wake is Gray who arms himself with a burning faggot and attacks the thing. Then, slowly, the camp wakens to a pitched battle. Daciana stumbles out of her tent dizzy and out of sorts and proceeds to try to heal Percival.

Cedric is bitten by the doll and finds the whole situation hilariously funny. A few moments later, he is doubled over in unnatural spasms of laughter that seem to be taking a terrible toll on him. At last Brother Andrei and Val awaken. Andrei casts Dispel Magic, ending Cedric's torture, while Val overpowers the doll and pins it beneath him.

At this point, Elenia flies out of the tent, screaming to leave her dolly alone, and throws herself on top of Val. As she squeezes him with phenomenal superhuman strength, Val begins to turn blue from lack of oxygen. "She's not a little girl!" he cries. "Kill her."

Though she holds Val in a vicelike grip, her voice is still soft, loving, and childlike. “Why are you struggling? I love you! Why do you hate me so? I just want to be your daughter. I just want us to be happy together. Swear you will stay with me, love me and will never leave me, and I will let you go.”

"Kill the bitch!" screams Val.

Several party members land blows on the little girl, but none do any damage. All are baffled and desperate with the escalating situation.

Meanwhile, Percival has a brilliant idea to destroy the golem with his Bag of Unholding. "Shove it in the bag, Val!" he says, opening it.

Val finally manages to free himself from the sorceress's hold, and helps Percival stick the doll in the bag.

Once the bag is closed, the doll disappears and is never seen or heard from again. All who have battled the small child now see her as she truly is–a decrepit old woman with many tricks up her sleeve.

The old woman (actually an Ermordenung) casts hold person on Brother Andrei and Val. Frozen in place, they can do nothing.

Then, it's the young paladin's turn to shine. Cedric delivers a deadly sword blow to the hag, severing her head and sending it spinning into the flames.

Once she dies, all are freed from her influence. Cedric and Percival's strength returns, and Brother Andrei and Val are freed from paralysis.

Winded, the party regroups and rejoices at having survived a terrible ordeal. Exhausted, they fall into a dreamless peaceful sleep and the rest of the night is uneventful by the light of the great bonfire.

Almost as if by magic, the following morning, the mist lifts, and they find the Old Svalich Road. Daciana, who had tied her horse on the side of the road, discovers the error of her ways. The animal has been butchered and disemboweled by a hungry pack of wolves.

Winter is a harsh mistress.

The following day, the party accompanies Brother Andrei back to Vallaki and bids him good travels. Brother Andrei and Tang will ride to Barovia. Tang tells them he will use his ravens to stay in touch.

Congratulations, you survived what was sure to be a total party kill. Each of you gets 1400xp Percival you get an additional 500 XP bonus for excellent roleplay and problem solving.

#gothic horror #ravenloft #dnd 2nd ed #dnd campaign #dnd #alternate timeline #vallaki

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dice-n-antlers · 9 months

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I started typing up recaps for our Candlekeep sessions about a year ago. So, as we head into the final adventure of Candlekeep Mysteries, I’d like to share some of those recaps here.

The first one I wrote up was our session 37, which was at the start of Book 15: The Scrivener’s Tale

Candlekeep: Session 37 Recap – 1/29/23

There was some additional shopping that happened in the discord between sessions.

Littlebit got a cool amulet and a sweet purple cloak that matches Ayla and Elenia!

The merchant was the cousin of the new mayor of Vermeillon and was pleased to report that the re-opening of the mine is going well.

We began our session at the end of a 4-week downtime. Some researchers at Candlekeep have been hard at work casting their net wide to look for possible solutions for Quickshot’s missing limbs. The Eyes of Amethyst were called in to help narrow the search by combing through some of the books.

We opted to use one of the magic conference rooms at The Hearth to make sure that our search is secure… what with the mysterious Stonky sightings and all.

Ayla was flying through books. Elenia and Littlebit took their time (Littlebit was especially thorough). Zeph fell asleep.

Elenia found an interesting book: The Scrivener’s Tale.

Not helpful in our quest for Quickshot, but interesting to Elenia as the subject matter was the Feywild.

75 pages, written in Sylvan, in spidery handwriting, in black ink with silver flecks.

Details the story of the Princess of the Shadowglass, a ruthless eladrin-turned-archfey. She is positioned as the protagonist against the Queen of Air and Darkness, ruler of the Gloaming Court.

The Princess lost the fight, but was not killed and vowed vengeance on all who wronged her.

Elenia got a shock at the end of the book: it was written by Zerian the Deserter and the scrap of paper that seemed to trigger her fey-related powers was torn from this book.

Also, her hands started feeling fuzzy...

The book is magical and gives off Illusion and Transmutation vibes.

Elenia woke up the following day with some fucky curse stuff going on:

Her arms are covered in Elven writing, matching the story and script of the book. She does not cast a shadow or have a reflection.

Adjutant Ramilir (who brought us the books for review) was absolutely horrified that this book made it into the pile. Littlebit and Zeph seem to think he was sincere in his mortification. He took us to the Great Reader Teles Ahvoste, who specializes in curses, magic items, and the Weave.

This is one hell of a curse. It will get progressively worse. It cannot be removed by Remove Curse or Greater Restoration. The only known removal was via a Wish spell, but there may be other solutions.

The book was brought to Candlekeep for safekeeping about 10 years ago by the adventurer Machil Rillyn, a noble from Baldur’s Gate. He had used almost all of his fortune to end the curse on himself.

The Eyes of Amethyst made haste to Baldur’s Gate via Teleportation circle.

Elenia started hearing a voice, just before we entered the circle…

Per Gubbles (manages the teleportation ring and loves hot dogs): Machil passed away about 10 years ago, shortly after the book was given to Candlekeep. House Rillyn is now led by his niece, Yvandre.

Between the Hall of Wonders and House Rillyn, the gang was attacked by 4 wood elf wizards riding on fomorians.

“Do you seek her?” “HIDING IS NOT GLORYFUL!”

They are in service to a Queen. Littlebit had Elenia stuff one of the bodies in The Hole for questioning.

(She wants to prepare Speak with Dead and Commune tomorrow)

Littlebit banished 2 of the fomorians to their home plane. They did not return.

Loot: 4x Rings of Gleaming Black Glass (10gp each)

Elenia heard the voice once again. It seems The Princess believes Elenia may be of use to her…

Elenia’s response: “If you free me, I can end the curse on you and free the Gloaming Court from their tyrannical ruler.”

In short: books are evil. What’s next?

#candlekeep mysteries #the scrivener’s tale #d&d #session recap #the eyes of amethyst #zephyranthe Fleetfoot #ulathon littlebit ogolana laathe #ayla willowvale #elenia charmwatch

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lovelessdagger · 1 year

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The Fall of the Jedi | Chapter Six: The Revenge of the Sith

Pairing: Hunter x OFC

Rating: Mature

Summary: “In order to assure the security and continuing stability,” Palpatine says, “The Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire!”

Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

WARNINGS: Explicit Language. Sith Nonsense. Angst. Generational Trauma. Implied Abuse.

Words: 5.4K

Masterlist | Daybreak Masterlist | AO3 | Prev | Next

“Thank you for agreeing to come with me Master,” Odella grins, walking down the hall of Senate Office Building. The black strand of her newly formed Padawan braid swings with every step.

The delicate hand of Jedi Knight Elenia Tarré touches the back her head. “You’re quite welcome, Odella. Thank you for inviting me.” Together, they approach the office of the Chancellor, and the Padawan stretches her legs to match steps. “Though I can’t understand why Palpatine insists on meeting with you today.”

“He likes to have lunch with me once a week,” Odella says.

“Every week?”

“Yes.”

“How long has this been going on?”

Her head cocks to the side. “Since forever. Usually Ani—um, Anakin comes with me. But he’s busy with Obi-Wan—I mean Master Kenobi.”

Elenia chuckles, shaking her head. “You don’t have to be so formal Odella. They’re your friends, I understand.”

“Sorry,” she says, bashful.

“You apologize too much,” the Jedi laughs. “I understand you and Anakin have only known one another for a couple cycles, but I’ve been told how close you are. Obi-Wan and I have been friends since we were children as well. I used to call Master Jinn, Qui-Gon all the time.”

“Master Windu says informal addressing is unbecoming.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Elenia whispers. “Mace Windu has a training saber up his rear.” Odella bursts into laughter, covering her mouth. “You call Anakin whatever you want, and I promise Obi-Wan will be horribly disturbed if you suddenly start calling him Master.”

“What should I call you?”

“You may call me Elenia if it makes you comfortable,” she says. “Though, in front of the Council we should probably stick to Master Tarré.” She winks. “You are my Padawan now Odella, but I find it vital that we be friends first. I plan on treating you as an equal as much as I can. I’ve never had a Padawan before, so I may make many mistakes; but it’s important that we trust each other. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Odella nods. “I’ve never had a Master either, so… we can learn together,” she giggles.

“That, is the second best idea I’ve ever heard,” Elenia says, stopped outside the door of the Chancellor’s Suite.

“What’s the best?”

“That I take you as my Padawan.”

“Sweet Odella, please come in.” Chancellor Palpatine smiles at the entrance to his office, waving a hand in. His glance to Elenia is short. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Thank you for escorting Miss Thoren, but she’ll be fine now. I’ll have a driver return her to the Temple.”

Odella enters the office first, nodding for Elenia to follow. The blonde Jedi frowns, cautiously stepping behind. “Actually Chancellor—“

“I assumed you would arrive with Anakin,” Palpatine says to Odella. Back turned he walks to the rooms center, set with a full table and chairs. “Is he on his way?“

“Oh, um… no Sir,” Odella says. “He’s on a mission with Obi-Wan right now, he won’t be able to make it.”

“That is quite disappointing. I do enjoy your visits together. Oh well,” he sighs. “These things do happen. It will be just us then.”

“Well, I was wondering if Elenia could join us today,” she says shy.

“Who?”

“That would be me,” the Jedi speaks, a tight smile on pink lips. “Odella was kind enough to invite me to join you both today. I hope that’s not an issue.”

Palpatine’s tongue clicks the roof of his mouth, brows raised. “Certainly not. Elenia, was it?”

“Master Tarré,” she corrects, a hand on Odella’s shoulder who looks in confusion.

“Of course.”

“Odella is my Padawan.”

“Is that right? I wasn’t told of this development.”

“It happened two days ago,” Odella offers. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised indeed. This calls for a celebration then! Please sit, both of you.”

Odella runs ahead to the table, climbing in the chair with an empty spot to her left. She pats the seat, beckoning for Elenia.

“This is quite the set up for expecting two children, Chancellor,” the Jedi says, taking her seat. Blue eyes scan the arrangement; roasted pheasant, sliced fruit, and juice in champagne flutes. “It’s very intimate.“

“Anakin and Odella are extremely close,” Palpatine says. “Isn’t that right Odella?”

She nods, popping jogan fruit into her mouth. “We’re best friends.”

“For now, yes. But I believe friends will become an understatement between the two.”

“I’m curious,” Eleina says. “How have you come to know Odella so well?”

“I’m sure you know your Padawan is from Naboo. I attended school with her parents years ago.”

“Is that right?”

“In fact, I remember her mother’s pregnancy. Her parents had trouble conceiving for years. You can imagine their shock when their daughter ends up being one of your kind. I like to let them know of her progress. They’ll be very proud to hear she’s avoided the Service Corps, and will become a useful asset to the Order.”

“Chancellor Palpatine, there is no shame in joining the Corps. I find that work through and for a group can often be more rewarding than that on ones own.”

“My, aren’t you an altruist?”

“It’s important to have connections to something greater than yourself. To know the value of a team, to learn the care of community. My plan is for Odella to work alongside the AgriCorps and the Archeological and Research Division to help expand her skills. She’s a very smart girl who loves to learn, and from my knowledge her innate skills with nature is wildly underdeveloped. She can make flowers bloom with a touch, that is just as valuable as her psychometry.”

“I would argue that’s hardly as useful. She is to be a Jedi, Master Tarré, train her as such. There’s no need to bog her down in the work of failed initiates.”

“The members of the Service Corps do wonderful work that goes unrecognized, Chancellor. I ask you, what is a play without the ensemble?”

Palpatine scoffs. “A room full of talent, my dear.”

“It’s not the Jedi Way!”

Odella Thoren wakes with a start and the greatest pain she has ever known. Matched and beaten to that she experienced from the death of her Master almost four years ago. Her head pounds as voices scream through the Force.

Her eyes shoot open into the black of the room. She gasps as if her soul reenters her body, chest lifting off the ground. With all the strength she can find within the Force, Odella sits and pants into the stale air.

She isn’t dead, that much she’s sure of. Jedi don’t teach about the afterlife, they only give speeches of becoming one with the Force. Returning to the natural state of things. This certainly isn’t that.

Or she hopes.

Her right hand reaches into the air. Fingers splay and close until the hilt of her lightsaber soars into her grasp. Purple lighting returns, the room as it was.

Okay, not dead, she decides. But if not that, than what?

“He must live!”

“Anakin?” Odella whispers.

“I need him!”

She repeats the name, startled, jumping to her feet while dizzy enough to tempt falling again. “Anakin!”

With her left hand, Odella feels for the holoprojector on her belt, pressing every button in a panic. “Come on,” she grumbles. “Work, work!”

Nothing.

Swearing to herself, Odella pockets the thing. Despite her weakened state, she breaks for the stairs. Her foot lands on the first step when the bellowing screams of Mace Windu enter the room. It circles like a tornado, stronger by the second.

Fear strikes into heart. How long was I out? A question she didn’t realize she asked aloud. Never mind the answer, that doesn’t matter. What matters is calling Master Yoda, Obi-Wan, anyone who will listen. To tell them everything she saw, to sit in meditation with the Council and share everything through memory.

Odella sprints up the stairs, back into the office and out of the home of Palpatine, the home of Sidious. The thought of the name alone threatens the soup she had on the civilian transport to spill out of her mouth.

She can’t think of that now. That doesn’t matter.

What matters is saving Anakin.

She can’t be too late.

She has to try.

Odella’s feet fly against Naboo soil the fastest they’ve ever gone. In a haphazard attempt for concealment, she wraps her headscarf with one hand. The other signals her commlink, rushed words into the microphone.

“Emergency Code Nine Thirteen,” she says. “Master Yoda this is Odella Thoren declaring Emergency Code Nine Thirteen. I’m requesting an immediate pick up. I repeat, this is Jedi Knight Odella Thoren declaring Emergency Code Nine Thirteen. I repeat this is Emergency Code Nine—”

Panicked shouts call from a cantina down the main road Odella occupies. Her feet skid to halt, now with the realization that she is alone. Typical bustling night market stalls stand empty, couples of civilians and wandering children no where to be seen.

Before leaving Coruscant, Odella met with Padmé Amidala. The reason was forged in innocence, the Jedi claiming curiosity of their shared home. Known for their disguises, Jedi and Senator met in secrecy, bonding over grease covered ronto wraps. Padmé told her everything. Customs, dress, history, holidays. She made claim to a promise take Odella with her in the near future.

“I’ll need protection yes, but I’ll also need to stay hidden,” Padmé laughed. “Who better than a Thoren to act as escort? I’ll show you everything in person. You’ll love the nightlife, there’s always something to see.”

Apparently not.

Hair on Odella’s arm rises with the wind, more screams—now horrified, sounding. It would be simple now, yes, to ignore this. Continue onto a starship, circle back to Coruscant before the worst comes to reality. But for now, she is still a Jedi, and she cannot ignore this fact.

Pocketing her comm, the choice of action is made without there ever being a choice at all.

The entire population of Naboo crammed into the cantina, and Odella finds herself at the front of it all. Sentients of all nature crowd the center holocaster. Screens above the bar present the same image in color.

The Jedi Temple on fire.

“…Coruscant like the hard workin’ people that live ‘ere. No clone ain’t ever gonna understand what it’s like to protect a family.”

Bottom text of the broadcast on a scrolling banner details the little information known. Odella’s stomach sinks to depths within her she didn’t know she had.

At the same time, the small Republic issued communicator around her wrist lights up. It’s pattern flashes the yellow light three times, then one, than an other three. A call to return to the Temple as soon as possible.

“What’s going on?” she asks to no one in particular, scanning the room.

“It’s Coruscant,” the woman beside her says. She looks older than Odella, only by some few years. “The Jedi Temple has been burning for hours. They’re saying the clones attacked, completely unprovoked.”

“That’s impossible. The clones and the Jedi are friends. They would never do this.”

“Maybe they’ve a chance of heart.”

In one hand, Odella holds her head, her body starts to sway.

“Are you okay miss? You don’t look so good.”

“Something’s not right…” she mutters. “I’m sorry I have to go.” Turning she almost falls, caught by the stranger.

Her hand presses against her temple, cringing. “You’re burning up… Can we get a chair over here?” She calls over the noise of the bar.

“No, no I have to go,” Odella protests.

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” she says, seating the Jedi. “Do you have family we can contact?”

She overhears someone to her left, another patron entering. “What horrible accident,” they gasp.

But Odella knows better.

The Jedi Temple, her home, is burning, and it’s no accident.

It’s a deliberate attack against the Jedi.

“No,” she says. “No family.”

It’s a declaration of war.

She’s handed a cup of water with ice, paired with a half smile. “I’m Nedora,” the woman introduces. She stays at Odella’s side, patting her arm like a mother to a child. “How are you feeling?”

“Not much better,” Odella admits. “But thank you. I’m sorry for causing a scene.”

“Nonsense.”

“Recent polling indicates Galactic City residents believe it was a matter of time before war finally came to Coruscant,” the HoloNews plays. “And some say, the Jedi are to blame…”

“I don’t know if I believe all that,” Nedora scoffs. She throws her dark braided hair over she shoulder. “If we’re blaming anyone for the war, I say we start with that Dooku and work our way down.”

“He’s already dead,” Odella mutters.

“Is he? When did that happen?”

“Couple days ago. The Jedi killed him after he captured the Chancellor.”

Was that planned as well? Odella wonders. Had Palpatine genuinely orchestrated an attack on his own home to benefit his war? Did Grievous know it was his master he trapped aboard his ship? Was Dooku’s death a setback or a needed advancement? Was it even an accident at all?

“I must have missed the announcement,” Nedora says. “Still. I don’t blame the Jedi. The war has reached every other planet in the galaxy. I’m surprised it didn’t come sooner.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s come here. The only clone troopers I’ve seen work at reentry points.”

“That’s because the war already came here with the Trade Federation. It was only a decade too early.”

“I remember that,” Odella says. “I didn’t understand why it was so important then.”

“That feels like child’s play now, doesn’t it?”

“A bit,” she nods, “Yeah.”

“So what’s your name?”

“Abigail.”

“Abigail…”

“Just Abigail. Abby,” Odella says. “Like I said, I don’t really do the family thing.”

“Fair enough,” Nedora nods, “How long have you been in Naboo?”

“Got here this morning.” Her story goes exactly as crafted by her and Obi-Wan. “It was a spontaneous trip. I’ve only heard stories of Naboo, figured I’d see it for myself.”

“Well, you’ve certainly picked quite the day. What have you done so far?”

“Sight seeing. I visited the Thoren House… can’t say it’s like anything else here.”

“Neither are they.”

“Really?”

“I frequently work with the middle sister. Mara. She’s quite the character.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“They aren’t known for their hospitality, I’ll leave it there.” Nedora stands, glaring around the bar. “Listen. You seem like a sweet girl and, I’d blame myself if anything happened to you while you’re alone. I own a dress shop just down the road, okay? If you ever need something while you’re here, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Thank you,” Odella says. “But I’m used to doing things on my own.”

“Maybe,” Nedora shrugs, “But that doesn’t mean you should.”

Odella sits at a hightop table, she swirls the same glass of petty liquor given to everyone else.

“Mind if I sit?” Someone asks, a girl.

She shrugs, captured by the on going report.

“For those who may not be aware, the Jedi Temple has been a longstanding landmark here in Coruscant for over four-thousand years…”

“Go for it,” she says.

Chair legs scratch against the wooden floor, a matching glass is placed by Odella’s.

“It’s actually burning?” The girl asks. “Word got back home and—I didn’t believe it.”

“Yeah,” Odella mutters.

“Do they know how?”

“No… they think there’s been another attack.”

The girl sighs, flagging down the bartender for a drink. She doesn’t speak until glass hits wood and swigs the brown liquid in one go. “My sister’s in there.”

Odella’s head snaps right. What she’s met with is a face exactly like her own. Same brown eyes, same arched brows and dark hair, same sun kissed skin.

“Cain Thoren,” she introduces.

“Abby,” Odella says. “I’ve heard your family looks similar. I thought it was an exaggeration, but it’s actually uncanny.”

Cain middle finger stirs the delicate straw. “That’s the Thoren curse for you.”

“Thoren curse?” Odella repeats dumbly.

“Naboo legends say the gods created the perfect woman in the first Thoren. We’ve looked the same since the Grizmallti because there’s nothing to improve. Mother calls it a blessing though.”

“For those who may not be aware,” the newscaster says over the sounds of the bar. The Thorens turn back to it, head cocking the same way. “The Jedi Temple has been a longstanding landmark here in Coruscant for over four-thousand years.”

“Your sister may not be in there,” Odella says. “I hear the Jedi are scattered all over the galaxy. Maybe she’s safe.”

Shaking her head, Cain takes another drink. “I want her to be in there,” she admits.

“What? Why?”

She sets the glass down, now empty. “Nothing I’ve done will ever be good enough for my parents because I’m not my sister.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Do you know why there are eleven Thoren children?” Cain asks. “My parents have everything anyone could want. Maids, servants, butlers, cooks, riches. Our home is a goddamn tourist attraction,” she snorts. “We are founders of Naboo and they still worry about legacy; about being forgotten; about being stuck to this planet; about being powerless. My parents believe having a Jedi carry the name will cement the Thorens as the greatest, most perfect family in the galaxy. They never wanted children, they wanted a trophy.”

“You’re certain of this?” Odella whispers.

“Blood exams are done the moment any of us are born to find those… M things the Jedi have. Ten times my parents have been disappointed by the numbers they saw. My oldest sister raised eight kids because my mother was too busy being knocked up. She almost died giving birth to me. The doctors said she could never get pregnant again and it broke her. My father threatened to leave us because of it.”

“I had no idea,” Odella says. “None of you should have been treated that way.”

“I was three when my mother got pregnant again. They called it a miracle. They made us pray every night for the Force to give them a Jedi. The second Odella tested positive? They call for the Temple to collect her and throw a party when she leaves.

“You have no idea what it feels like to be compared to someone you’ve never met.” Cain continues. “Every day all I’d hear from my parents was Odella eats her vegetables. Odella wears her hair in braids. Odella doesn’t wear makeup. Odella is thinner. Odella is prettier. Odella’s a Knight. Did you hear that? Our perfect Odella Avana is finally a real Jedi.”

The inclusion of a second name takes the Jedi by surprise, having never been told of it. She repeats the word silently behind her mask.

Avana.

Odella Avana.

“How would they find out that information?” she asks. “I always heard the Jedi kept all of that secret from families.”

“The Chancellor is her godfather,” Cain mutters. The admission sinks rocks into Odella’s lungs, drowning her in the air. She feels sick and faint, gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turn white. “Every week for years he’d call and tell us all about how perfect my sweet sister is. He sent us photos of her when the war started. She looked like a model and now they’re plastered all over our home. I can’t turn a corner without seeing her. I can’t even look in the mirror without seeing the one person I will always be beneath.”

Odella can find no words within her but four. “I’m so sorry Cain.”

Her sister shrugs, turning to the HoloNews. “The Jedi have made being a Thoren a curse,” she says. “If my sister is in there, I hope she burns.”

Sunken against the bar, Odella holds her knees to her chest. The Anthem of the Republic plays as patrons of the cantina slowly trickle out while the sun rises on Naboo. She catches its rays in her eyes, squinting.

Knuckles knock by her head. “Hey.” The bartender, rag draped over his shoulder. “We’re closing up. You have to leave.”

“Of course.” Despite the absence of liquor in her system, she stumbles to stand.

The Jedi Knight follows the crowd outside, while everyone retreats to their home or their speeders, she’s alone. Left on the cobble road, staring at the lavender sky. She raises her commlink to her mouth. “Master Yoda?” She whispers. “Are you there?”

Against her better judgement and pitted against desperation, Odella does the only thing she can think of. A small bell above a doorway chimes as she enters Nedora Adorations. The shop is a cute little thing, tucked away on the corner of the street. Even with the lack of sun the space is bright and colorful, an assortment of beads and jewels draped on mannequins.

“Excuse me?” she asks into the empty space. “Hello?”

“Sorry love, I’m afraid I’m not opened yet!” Calls a woman from the back.

“I’m looking for Nedora?” Odella replies. “I met her last night, in the cantina. She said I could find her here.”

“Abby?” Nedora comes into the room, pins placed on the cuffs of her sleeves, thread between her dark lips. “What happened to doing things on your own?”

“I’m sorry for intruding. I know it’s early, but I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Were you in that bar all night?”

“Yes. I haven’t slept.” Odella rubs her arms, shifting her weight. “I was wondering if you had a ration bar by chance? Or a cot I could use? Only for a few hours.”

“Well,” she chuckles, opening her arms as if to say look around. “I don’t run a military operation, so cots and rations are short supply here.”

“Oh.”

“But, I do have a bed upstairs and a pack of oats I can prepare. If you’ll accept that is.”

“Yes, yes I would.” Odella breaks a smile under her covers. “I very much would. Thank you.”

Nedora points to the stairs, waving her off. “Second door on your left. Make yourself comfortable and take as long as you need. I have to set up for opening, but don’t be afraid to shout.”

“Thank you,” Odella says again. “I promise I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can.”

“Darling, it’s five in the morning. As far as I’m concerned you’re staying in my hair whether you like it or not. Now go upstairs and rest.”

“Of course. I’m sorry again.”

Nedora laughs. “Has anyone ever told you apologize too much?”

Odella nods, swallowing a collection of spit. “Once or twice.”

“Master Yoda,” Odella whispers into her commlink. Hours later the sun has fully risen on Naboo, passing through Nedora’s thin white curtains. “Master Yoda? Master Windu?”

She’s met with radio silence and almost crushes the device in her palm. Her rest lasted all but two hours, too panicked and woken by another jolt of fear.

Her bracelet continues to blink its emergency signaling. Outreach to the Temple itself is too dangerous, for fear of communications being compromised. She’s tried to call Jesse through their emergency line, hopeful Ahsoka had news. But the line was completely disconnected without static to share. The only person left is Anakin.

Thinking of him alone is enough to bring a lump into her throat and tears to her eyes. Years. For years she watched him bond with the Chancellor with no question and no protest. She sat with him every week at their gatherings until Elenia request Odella no longer attend.

She never spoke kindly of Palpatine… not in front of Odella at least. Openly questioning his intentions, his politics. Had she known something was amiss all along? Why wouldn’t she speak up to the Council then? Why wouldn’t she tell Obi-Wan that it was no longer safe for Anakin to around the Chancellor.

Odella shakes her head and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. She can’t worry about this now. Elenia did everything she could, and Odella refuses to blame her for anything that has happened.

If Anakin is alive… No. Anakin is alive. She would know it with every part of her if he died. He is alive. The question is whether he’s been captured by Sidious or not. Her fading vision provided little context, but he sounded in trouble. If he’s hiding, a contact could compromise his position. If he’s captured, it would compromise her. Maybe hurt him more.

It wouldn’t be safe.

“Master Yoda,” Odella whispers, pressing the metal to her forehead. “Yoda please answer. It’s Odella.” She sniffles. “I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult lately, but I really have to talk to you right now. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He says nothing to her, if he is there at all. And for the first time since the Outer Rim Sieges, having to recount the betrayal of Quinlan Vos, Odella Thoren weeps.

“I met one of the Thorens,” Odella says. She walks around Nedora’s shop, fingers dancing on the fabric of dresses. “Cain.”

Nedora snorts, shaking her head. “Lucky you. You got the evil one.”

“Evil?”

“She’d kill her Jedi sister if given a chance, though I can’t say the rest of the girls are better. If you think the sisters are shit, wait until you meet the brothers. You’ll never see men with a bigger or more fragile ego.”

“You said you work with one of them. Is she nice?”

“Mara?” Nedora laughs. “No. But I guess you don’t have to be when you’re Naboo’s closest thing to royalty. Their parents treat them horribly, but they get everything they want.”

“Cain said there was a curse? That that’s why they all look alike.”

“The perfect woman,” she mocks, cutting thread. “If that’s true I can tell you now the gods spent all their time working on that pretty face of theirs, but they left their hearts ugly. They weren’t always like this, the past Thoren families that is. My nana used to say Novalise Thoren was the nicest woman to exist in Theed. Her beauty was inside and out. But she fell in love with a man who ended up having an evil soul and… I don’t know. They had Paloma and her brothers. Her father was furious none of the children had his last name. Paloma was the only girl too, so everything depended on her to keep the Thoren name alive. After her mother died, her father drilled into her that power is what matters. Legacy. I hear that while he was dying he told her that marrying Nova was his biggest mistake.”

“That’s awful,” Odella says.

“Paloma’s plan was to prove him wrong by making the Thoren name the best in the Mid-Rim. But all she’s done is make her children resent her and stop tradition.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Thoren name is passed through the women. You’d think with seven daughters it would never die out. But six of them have declared intent to or already have taken the name of their husbands. The only daughter to live and die as a Thoren is their Jedi, and it isn’t like she’ll be having children. In Paloma’s greed to bring glory, she’s killed every chance she has.”

“That’s unbelievable,” Odella says. “It’s horrifying to hear what happened to the grandmother alone. To think the behavior continued to her daughter too… and now their children…”

“I take it your family problems aren’t as bad as that?”

“My family problems?”

“Stars,” Nedora swears. “I’m sorry. You mentioned last night you didn’t do the family thing and—I shouldn’t joke about it.”

“No,” Odella reassures. “No it’s alright. If I’m honest, I have a great family.” Her vision focuses on the rhinestones scattered across a skirts hem. “I have a big brother. He can be a little pushy and he’s sensitive, but he’s my best friend. And I have a little sister. She left home recently though. And well, there’s my brother’s best friend. He’s the kindest man you’ll meet. And my grandfather is… the craziest guy ever,” she giggles. “And then there’s—“ she stops, shaking her head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Nedora says, smiling. “Who else?”

“I had an uncle. After my… mom died, he was the only one to step up. He was always there for me, you know? I felt like I would never enjoy anything ever again, and he just let me be a kid. For so long I could never be upset around him.”

“What happened?”

“Addiction,” Odella mumbles. “He met someone who gave him a taste of something he shouldn’t have had. He ended up hurting a lot of people because of it. So I cut him off completely. Everyone says he’s recovered now and he’s working himself but,” she swallows, “I still can’t forgive him. I don’t know if I ever will.”

“Is that why you ran away?”

The question stumps Odella, who frowns. Is she running away? Was that why she was so eager to take the mission to begin with?

“Yeah,” she finds herself saying. “That’s part of it.”

“Any word from your family?” Nedora hands a cup of oats, cooked and filled with fruit to Odella. The latter stays hunched on a windowsill, obsessively tapping at her communicators.

“No.” Odella groans, chucking the thing across to hit wood paneling.

“Do you know what the time would be there? Maybe they’re sleeping.”

Her head shakes. “It’s morning there, they should be up.”

“Where are you from?”

The truth slips. “Coruscant.”

“No wonder the Temple fire freaked you so much. I’m sure they’re okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s not like they’re Jedi,” Nedora says. “They’re probably listening the Chancellor’s speech.”

Odella’s eyes widen like saucers. “The Chancellor!” she gasps. “Do you have a radio?”

“Yes,” Nedora answers with an ere of suspicion. She pats the metal block beside her on the counter.

“Quickly, turn it on. I have to know what he says.”

The empty shop fills with a crinkling static, Nedora turning dials until a proper signal is caught.

“…our enemies showed their true natures,” says the voice of Chancellor Palpatine. “The Jedi hoped to unleash their destructive power against the Republic be assassinating the head of government and usurping control of the clone army.”

Odella jumps off the window, jaw fallen. “He’s lying,” she says, approaching the radio. “The Jedi are peaceful, they would never think to do such a thing.”

“…Our loyal clone troopers contained the insurrection within the Jedi Temple and quelled uprisings on a thousand worlds.”

“Holy shit,” Nedora swears. “Did he say thousands of worlds?”

“The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!” Palpatine shouts.

Odella sprints to the nearest bin. Throwing off her headscarf, she drops to her knees and spills out everything she’s had inside.

“Abby!” Nedora calls, rushing to her side. “Take a breath love, it’s okay. Why don’t we try calling your family again?”

“It’s not use,” Odella gasps, face first in the can. “It’s no use. It—It doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t go back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re dead,” Odella says, lifting her head. “They’re all dead. All of them.”

“The Separatists have been defeated, and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled.”

Nedora pulls away, face mimicked in shock. “You’re a Thoren!” Then, she leans closer, heavy brows pinched together. Her expression falls to awe all at once. “You’re the Jedi!”

“In order to assure the security and continuing stability,” Palpatine says, “The Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire!”

Sounds of the Senate echo through the channel. The screams come so loud, the speakers dare to rupture. And Odella Thoren realizes what she should have many years ago.

The Clone Wars could never have been conducted through the Senate and between meetings with tea. Because there was no war. There has never been war. There has only been one man sat playing chess with himself, turning the board at every move. Not caring for consequence, but the end result.

The grand conspiracy of Sith echoed within the Temple has always led to this moment, right now. To watch Jedi Knights, as they stand scattered across the galaxy, remain helpless to defend their home. To be turned into villains and murdered with no remorse. To know that everything lost to the war, every information; every life; every civilian; every home; every clone; every Padawan; every Jedi, never mattered.

The Clone Wars served one purpose, and one purpose only. A purpose which has finally been fulfilled to its perfect intention. To act as the grand finale in the revenge of the Sith.

“For a safe and secure society.”

Next: SUPPLEMENTAL DATA II

#The Bad Batch #The Bad batch fanfiction #The Bad Batch Fanfic #clone wars fanfic #clone wars fanfiction #SW Fanfic #Hunter x OC #Hunter x OFC #TBB #TBB fanfic #TBB Fanfiction #Daybreak

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cannoli-reader · 2 years

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Matriarchy and the Military in The Wheel of Time

I just want to push back on an idea I keep seeing among the fandom, that the Wheel of Time setting is not a matriarchy, because women are not soldiers and often we see conventional domestic gender roles. Wheel of Time is set in a preindustrial time. Most work is muscle-intensive, and because of the necessity of breastfeeding, mothers are going to care for the children. The closest we get for moms with lots on their plate is “substitute breast.” So, yeah. Jobs that take lots of muscle are going to be male-coded and child care is going to be female coded, and so housework and so on is going to fall into the feminine sphere, because it makes sense for the person caring for the kids to handle that stuff anyway.

What we do not see in WoT, is denigration of female-coded jobs or elevation of masculine-coded jobs. WoT does not have institutions like knighthood, which glorified warriors and coopted skilled warriors into the service of the aristocracy. Rather than leaders affecting military roles, such as the many kings and dictators who wore military uniforms regardless of their competence in those arts, in the world of WoT, it is noted that Cairhienin nobles do not get military haircuts, even when they are leading troops. This changes in the story, as civil war envelops Cairhien and society breaks down, and the nobles can no longer be assured of their troops’ automatic obedience, and so must make efforts to show them respect.

Furthermore, we see that Cairhienin, Andoran and Tairen nobles are able to defer military command to male subordinates without a loss of prestige, respect or authority. The Lance-captain or Master of Horse does not take over the estate or title of his liegewoman, she retains her authority even without needing to engage in military activity. With the Andorans confronting Egwene’s forces in Murandy, despite Arathelle being the ranking noble, Bryne says she’ll defer to Pelivar for the military stuff, just as we see Arymilla doing with Jarid and Lir. Arymilla might not be smart, or anyone’s idea of a competent queen, but she is established as keeping a tight grip on power, and keeping her reluctant followers like Elenia and Naean under control. She would not cede that much control to Lir or Jarid unless she felt she could do so safely. Heck, she’s more concerned about the repercussions of angering a cook by punishment then about Jarid or Lir taking charge. We see too, Catelyn Haevin repeating female relatives’ assertions of military service being men’s work.

This is the important thing when ascertaining the meaning of a division of power or gender roles: who is maintaining the division. Where are the men in charge who are suppressing female warriors? What man is trying to keep High Lady Rosanna down? What man, besides the Darkfriend gunning for her job, expresses doubts about Birgitte as Warder or Captain-General? In Emond’s Field, it is the Women’s Circle who defines the division of duties with the Village Council and any attempts by Councilors to claim a particular sphere of authority is usually scoffed at by the Wisdom or Women’s Circle. There is absolutely nothing that suggests the Mayor can barge in on a Circle meeting as Nynaeve did the Council’s (admittedly, probably informal) meeting with Padan Fain, and much that implies otherwise. Speaking of Emond’s Field, there is not remotely any pre-industrial patriarchy I have ever heard of where women can unilaterally kick their husbands out of bed for no reason (Lysistrata had a publicly-given reason), because they don’t want to reveal Women’s Circle secrets in their sleep.

Speaking of the Wisdom, I think an issue people run into is that her title is made up for the story, rather than one that exists in the Real World, like Mayor. Readers know what a Mayor and a King are, they can infer what a Wisdom or Panarch might be, but those words lack the same connotations of authority and power that their male counterparts possess (despite Panarch’s etymology suggesting it means “ruler of all”). But if one compares the powers of the Panarch, it is really the more advantageous position. The Panarch sets and collects the taxes. There is a reason why this power is entrusted to the popularly-elected portions of the legislature in the US & UK. She also controls the internal police forces and the only navy Tarabon has. The King controls the foreign army and foreign affairs and presumably commerce, but that does not give him much power at home. King Andric needs to bring in the Children of the Light for plausible deniability when he wants to install a Panarch of his choosing to fill a vacancy.. Meanwhile, Amathera, even after a very short reign, with her position compromised by the Black Ajah, is confident that she can, in turn, effect a return to power once she gets into contact with her Legion. If the situation had been reverse, and a Panarch wanted to install her candidate for King by a coup, you can bet she would not have needed the Children.��

We see this same division in other countries or cultures, where the women exercise internal control and the men given authority over external matters. Andor has the First Prince of the Sword, whose duties are primarily military, but also require Gawyn to learn the principle crops and products of every part of Andor. The Queen of Shienar has absolute authority to speak for the king in his absence or when he is campaigning abroad. Among the Sea Folk, the Cargomaster, Swordmaster and Master of Blades of ship, clan and people, respectively, supervise military and commercial matters, but the Cargomaster is not even in the room, when the Sailmistress, in consultation with the Windfinder, not only makes an exception to one of their society’s taboos, but also completely changes their planned destinations. As with the women of Andor and other nations, these female leader can defer to male military leaders in times of combat without any sign of a loss of authority or prestige.

For the Aiel it is even more extreme. A lot of superficial takes note the effective dead-end career track of a Maiden of the Spear and exclusively male chiefs, but that is one job reserved for men and the other two leadership positions reserved for women. As above, it is the Wise Ones we see upholding the division, when they tell Moiraine she can’t enter Alcair Dal, because it would create a precedent whereby the chiefs might try to intrude into roofmistresses’ and Wise Ones’ gatherings. But note that a woman is allowed into Alcair Dal to speak for her clan, Suladirc’s widowed roofmistress, Sevanna. Can anyone say that Rhuarc would be allowed to speak for Amys or Lian if he were widowed? We are told Lian can evict Rhuarc from Cold Rocks Hold or refuse him entry, but what sign is there that he can do anything of the sort about a renegade Wise One or his roofmistress? There is no mention of men divorcing their wives among the Aiel, but there are jokes about men ending up with marital situations they do not want. Finally, there is the point that the Wise Ones control who gets to be a chief, by exercising veto over who gets to go to Rhuidean. Show me anywhere in WoT where a woman must ask a man’s permission for something of that nature. Meanwhile, there are any number of sacrosanct roles for women who may not be harmed, and only one for men, blacksmiths (which also goes to demonstrate that it’s not some form of patriarchal condescension that forbids harm to mothers and Wise Ones). As with wetland nations, the Aiel Wise Ones denigrate Maidens of the Spear and warriors in general. Warriors seeking adventure or honor in fighting Shadowspawn in the Blight are dismissed as fools.

See, there are different ways you can denigrate someone for violating their culture’s assigned gender roles. As an example from George Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire or its more widely known TV adaptation Game of Thrones, there is Brienne of Tarth, a female warrior who faces scorn and rejection for embracing a male role. However there is also Sam Tarly, who faces abuse and discrimination for being a male in an military aristocracy who prefers feminine-coded activities and past-times, or the veteran warrior Ser Rodrik Cassel who thinks of singers as unmanly. The women discriminated against in WoT for taking up weapons are, I submit, more facing Sam Tarly’s brand of detractors, or Ser Rodrik’s criticism, not for barging into an elevated position where they are not wanted, but for slumming with the affairs of the lesser sex.

An interesting thing about WoT is that this is not necessarily and inherent status in the world. During Artur Hawkwing’s time, the military arts and sciences had their peak, and there is mention of a female general who fought for Guaire Amalasan, against whom Hawkwing had to defend Tar Valon while the False Dragon was being gentled. in the current era, it is mentioned that armies are rather small, and that wars are rarely, if ever, fought to a conclusion. Instead, the White Tower intervenes in armed conflicts to negotiate and mediate peace settlements between the warring parties. Military success affects how well one party is treated in the final settlement, but is not the determining factor. The ostensible reason for this practice is to increase the Tower’s prestige and establish the Aes Sedai as the arbiters of international affairs, but I believe this is also a premeditated program by the White Tower going back a thousand years.

The greatest challenge to the White Tower’s supreme status in the wetlands was Artur Hawkwing, a military genius and ta’veren. He successfully conquered the known world, and reorganized the government, to the degree that his state was able to support concurrent naval invasions abroad, to Seanchan and Shara. Anything like that would be well beyond the capacity of any known nation in the current era, except the Seanchan, because it requires a high level of organization and more efficient use of resources than the minimal governments of the wetlanders could muster. His empire was so powerful that it was able to crush the millenial Trolloc irruption before it got much further south than modern Shienar. But more importantly, when the White Tower did something so bad they stilled the Amyrlin responsible for only the second time in a thousand years, Hawkwing turned against them, and besieged Tar Valon for an extended period of time, in spite of wide popular support for the Aes Sedai.

To this day, Artur Hawkwing is so reviled by the White Tower that Moiraine has to reassure Siuan that none of the three ta’veren with her have any intention of being another Hawkwing. Another person who establishes a peaceful and just government, so beloved of the common folk that they raised a massive statue in his honor, and who prevented a second round of Trolloc Wars that otherwise might have wiped out life on the continent. That’s definitely nothing anyone would want to see come again. /sarcasm

But if a thousand years later, the White Tower is still worried about another Hawkwing, what did they think back when the War of the Hundred Years was winding down and the various national leaders had more or less given up on the Empire? They would have been taking steps to prevent a new Hawkwing. You can’t do much to prevent ta’veren from arising, but you can do a great deal to prevent another military commander from getting that level of power and prestige. Like, for instance, supporting rulers who keep their generals firmly in check, as we see in Andor, where Ishara persuaded her husband to lift the siege of Tar Valon, freeing his troops to help stake out her realm and earning the good will of the Tower in one shot.

Or, they can suppress military expertise, by preventing military academies from being created, by encouraging a more decentralized approach in general to education (note that Bashere asks under whom Mat studied, rather than in which school or military service was he trained), which in the time of the series, has resulted in an educated and scientifically literate segment of the population, who have no way to collaborate or concentrate their knowledge in a critical mass for a tech boom until Rand begins founding schools while the Tower’s attention is elsewhere. You can learn a lot of fields of knowledge in private study, but it’s not all that conducive for producing an officer corps that’s all on the same page. This sort of thing means that any future would-be Hawkwing has his work cut out for him, he cannot, unlike, say, Napoleon Bonaparte, Hannibal Barca, Alexander III of Macedon or Frederick II of Prussia, simply use an existing military organization as his tool of conquest.

And, of course, the Tower can also intervene in any military conflict, and force a cessation of hostilities through diplomacy rather than military defeat. This prevents a military organization from gaining experience, it prevents nations from developing policies and practices to effect conquests, as we see the Seanchan bureaucracy does, and it effectively keeps the soldiers from having the ultimate say in a war.

In the real world, military force is the final power, against which there is no appeal. But in the world of WoT, there is the One Power. A general who decides on a palace coup against his king can only hold the throne if the Aes Sedai let him. The White Tower might not be able to veto the ascension of a monarch as they could in previous millennia, but they can bring a lot of political influence and soft power to bear, including the resources of their own private bank. Likewise, the Wise Ones can prevent a clan chief from ousting a roofmistress, and the Windfinder can prevent a mutiny by the Cargomaster. This goes a long way to explain the difference between martial activities being male coded, and a patriarchy controlling society. Yet another one of the ways the Tower can neutralize military power as a threat or competing influence to their own, is by promulgating the idea that it is a lesser occupation, unfit for women or for civilized or refined men.

If the military arts were considered important or prestigious in the world of WoT, they would not be so far behind their own times. The setting has early modern technology and societal institutions. They have banking, credit and insurance in the financial sector and technologically, and have machinery like clocks and printing presses. Yet, military organization is deficient. Nations have no national standing armies, or at best, a small force for the protection and enforcement of the regime, relying on nobles’ levies to raise armies for war. Even in the later medieval era in the real world, they had moved away from this means of raising armies. Instead, nobles began paying a special tax (scutage) to avoid the hassle of gathering an army to meet their obligations to their overlords or monarchs, and kings used it pay and equip a professional army. Note that when Rand orders the Tairen armies to undertake a foreign expedition, he has to demand that one of the nobles fund it, because there is no standing army or military budget for the nation (and the description of Torean and his son lacking the conventional aristocratic appearance suggests they are some sort of nouveau riche whose recent ancestors bought their way into the oligarchy).

And for course, the most glaring deficiency is technology. They use crossbows, halberds and pikes, which were weapons of the late middle ages, but even in the medieval era, there was gunpowder weaponry. In Wheel of Time, gunpowder is a closely guarded secret of the Illuminators, but I would argue that is only possible because of the low status of military activity. If generals were important, if military glory was the aim for all aristocrats and rulers saw war as the most effective method to implement policy or aristocrats and rebels saw it as the best method to take power, there would be a great deal more interest in methods and means of fighting it. The ballista invented by Idrien Tarsin during the siege of Cairhien is simply a scaling-up of an existing weapon, but is utterly beyond the ken of any character in the series. If war was as important to WoT society as our own, someone from the Illuminators’ guild would eventually have cracked and sold out the secrets for wealth. The lack of such demand (or fear of the Aes Sedai reaction) makes it much easier for the Guild to hold its secrets close, along with the point that there is no gain in designing wonder weapons if the Aes Sedai are going to call off the war before they can have any effect.

All in all, the primarily male military status of the wetlands, the Aiel and the Sea Folk does nothing to support, to a knowledgeable reader, the contention that those cultures are not matriarchal or female-dominated.

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knightthunderis · 4 years

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Once Upon A Time

Have you ever had one of those days when your past and present lives end up colliding and intertwining somewhere along the way? I know it may sound crazy but hear me out. I guess to fully understand how crazy things can get when your true love and soulmate are involved is to start at the beginning. We all have three personalities, our royal form which in his case is Karyson Gabriel Wolfe of Thaddea, his human and present form Tristan Michael Llewellyn, and his hero form Knight Wolf. But somehow his royal side got separated from the other two parts of his personality and landed back in Thaddea with no memories of our past together. This is the story of how through a crazy case of mistaken identity, lies, deceit, rivals, hidden agendas, conspiracy, invasion of privacy, blackmail, and manipulation my true love and I as Reimeiko Thunderis made it back to each other and full circle. I am known as Reimeiko Christyne Amaryllis Thunderis Wolfe by royal standards, Queen of Thunderia and Thaddea thanks to my getting married to Karyson before the last battle with Darcien’s forces. My father, his Knights and fellow royals had to use their combined powers to send us here to be reborn and find each other again. The problem was none of us had any memory of our pasts until our respective guardians found us and reunited us. But that is another story for another time. Anyway, when we were all reborn here, I was born Jamison Logan McKagan the eldest daughter of Robert and Veronica McKagan also known as Thor and Kyiandra Thunderis of Thunderia. But you already know that, if you know my story. Anyway, I am getting outrageously off track. But when this all started, I had no doubt how it would end because of Karyson and our past together. But boy was I wrong. I had never felt so betrayed in my life. How I came into this as Reimeiko Thunderis instead of who I am in the human form? Well I will tell you. It all starts here at the Coronation Ball. On this night, not only will Garyson be taking his place as king, but he will also be choosing his future bride. At the doors of the grand ballroom stood Jamison Logan McKagan Llewellyn also known as Reimeiko Christyne Amaryllis Thunderis Wolfe of Thunderia and Thaddea. The Lady Knight of Thunder was getting ready to make a grand entrance. Tonight was the night for her. As she entered the ballroom, the herald announced her.

"Lady Reimeiko Christyne Thunderis." the herald announced. She walked further into the ballroom spotting her friends and Knights from back home as well as some of the friends she had made along the way or so she thought. Her brother and sister in their Knight forms showed up close to her speaking telepathically.

(I know that the connection between Karyson and Reimeiko is solid.) Knight Shadow said. (But you might want to take the connection between Jamison McKagan and Tristan Llewellyn into consideration.)

(Tristan is Karyson’s human form though, remember brother?) Knight Nova replied. (They were separated into their own individual personas somehow and we must figure out how to reunite them, but now is not the time. The Knights are all stationed throughout the palace grounds, fully powered but dressed for this ball.)

(Do you not think that you are overdoing it just a bit?) She asked. (How are all the background checks into the key players going? One cannot know how to play the game without a scorecard and details on everyone involved especially who gains and loses the most. There are a lot of secrets here and I want to know all of it. Not just the key players but the background players too. Leave no stone unturned, leave no passage unexplored. We had orders to do that before we left.)

(Our wisdom knights are taking care of that and have been since before Dad debriefed us.) Shadow replied. (Anyway, we will keep in close contact with you as the night progresses)

Shadow and Nova made their way into the crowd to check in with the other Knights as Jamison glided over to talk to two other suitors in the competition. For some reason, she suddenly felt uneasy, why, she did not know. Granted, she had seen and dealt with her share of evil tyrants, love rivals, band rivals, and threatened hostile takeovers, but she and her Knights had always made it through almost unscathed.

“Reimeiko, you look so beautiful.” Elenia Zhang gushed. “The prince will not be able to take his eyes off of you all night in that gown.” Jamison drifted back and forth between the first debriefing and present day.

“First off we have Elenia Zhang.” Marco said. “There is not much known about her and her family except that they are Thaddean nobles who live outside the typical line. In addition to being a Thaddean noble, Elenia is multi-talented which will be one of her strengths and make her a good ally as well. Knowing you Jamie, you would have her and everyone else won over in no time.”

“Hah, he might like the way she looks,” Lamani Evander sneered. “But when it comes to choosing his future queen, he knows who will be able to rule by his side and that woman will be me and me alone.” Back to the debriefing.

Lamani Evander, she was so evil that she made Dariana Lanoson look and act like an angel, but even though she could scare or intimidate others, she did not scare or intimidate Jamison or Reimeiko. Long before, Jamison had faced off with the Federation of Evil’s many different factors, love rivals, rival bands, threatened hostile take-overs and she knew how to fight dirty if she had to. In her royal form of Reimeiko Thunderis, she fought like a man although she was a woman. Along with her siblings and fellow Knights, she trained from the time she was young to be able to take down and fight the forces of evil who continued relentlessly to take them down and take over the universe. Reimeiko and Jamison were rejoined or reunited when Jamison was fifteen and was discovered being Princess Reimeiko Thunderis while in her hero form of Knight Thunder and her boyfriend Tristan Llewellyn in his hero form of Knight Wolf was discovered as being Prince Karyson Wolfe of Thaddea which was who Jamison and the others were vying for. She knew something about Karyson, his true siblings Corydon and Racine, and Samuel and Francine that the other people present did not know. Samuel, Francine, and the Thaddean Trio were immortal like Reimeiko, her siblings, and Knights; and no matter what the other ladies of court thought, Karyson was Reimeiko’s eternal soulmate.

“Well I can say this without any conviction.” Jamison said. “It will be his choice who rules by his side not yours, and may the best woman win.” To herself she said. “I know it will be me because I have been to the future, I am the Queen in it and none of you are there.”

“I am sure that I will win because I have known him all his life.” Lamani replied.

Jamison rolled her eyes and shook her head as Lamani walked away. The only other woman in the running so-to-speak was a woman by the name of Almeda Fitzgerald who was being sponsored by the present queen Alyssa Candelaria. No one had really seen her through the competition because she had been staying close to the queen. Just then a trumpet sounded, and a herald announced the arrival of Karyson Tristan Michael Llewellyn Wolfe Prince of Thaddea and he was heading right in the direction of Jamison and Elenia. He took her hand and bowed. “Princess Reimeiko, may I have the pleasure of the next dance with you?” Prince Karyson asked.

“You want to dance with me?” Jamison asked. “I am ready to do much more than just dance with you, but I would love to.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” Karyson replied. He took her hand and whisked her away to the dance floor of the grand ballroom. As the orchestra plays, he leads her into a waltz around the room her gown swirling as they glide through the steps.

“To think a few months ago as Jamison McKagan,” Jamison acknowledged. “I did not even know the first steps to the waltz.”

“And now no one would ever know that your human form was not born into this life.” Karyson replied. “I hope you never have cause to regret coming here.”

“What do you mean? Why would you say that?” Jamison asked. “You and Tristan will be reunited before this crazy adventure is over, then so will we be.”

“So much has happened.” he said pausing as the song winds, his hands lingering on her waist and his eyes searched hers which were filled with uncertainty, fear, and confusion. “I need to speak with you.”

“Is something wrong?” Jamison asked, fearful of what the answer would be. Despite the soulmate connection between them, she knew that something was not right.

“There is nothing really wrong per se.” he replied. “It has been nearly impossible to even get a moment alone with you these last few days, but I need to know--”

“Prince Garyson, may I be so bold as to cut in?” Duchess Lamani Evander asked.

“Oh yes of course.” Karyson replied. “Do not worry, Reimeiko, we will talk later.”

[Yeah right] Jamison thought sourly. As Lamani and Karyson glided away, Jamison found herself wandering off the dance floor and running into a familiar face in the crowd. “Derrick? I did not know that you would be here tonight. You look so handsome in your formal uniform instead of your usual mix of clothes.”

“Karyson insisted.” Derrick replied. “I guess I should congratulate you. You look exactly like one of them. I guess you are one of them now in these days.”

“Please do not lump me in with those two-faced, hypocritical, narcissistic fleet of bozos and bimbos.” Jamison pleaded. “Real people like you are more fun to be around. You and I are cut from the same cloth. We do not fit into their world of snobby losers and I thank God that we do not.”

“This time tomorrow, you might be queen and then our lives are going to go in very different directions.” he said.

“If I am chosen to be his bride, but I have a sick feeling that I will not be,” Jamison said. “I will still be me. Titles do not make me who I am or who I will be. Nothing will take me over.”

“Looking at you right now, it is hard to believe that.” Derrick said with a sad look. “This place has a tendency of changing people, and some of us like the woman you used to be. You know, that right?”

“I promise, I am the same person I was from the beginning, even under this fancy, hard to breathe in a ball gown.” Jamison replied. “Despite everything that has happened, I have not changed. I am the same Reimeiko Christyne Amaryllis Thunderis, Jamison Logan McKagan Llewellyn. If there is ever a time you feel that I get too cocky, just remind me of the first time we met, I was taking out the garbage to the big dumpster outside and waiting tables at Russo’s bar and grill.”

“It does feel like it was so long ago.” Derrick acknowledged. “I cannot believe that it has only been a few months since this all began, and it feels more like once upon a time now more than ever after everything.”

#kingliam2019 #texaskitten30 laimtruelovealways #cordonianroyalty #trr knightthunderchronicles

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zwritestuff · 4 years

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Because I'm taking my chances when I can, Scyvie and literally anything regarding my one true love, Astrology AU

oh how long it’s been since i wrote astrology AU. for you, i hope you like this 💖

***

There’s a baby.

There’s a baby in the pisces lake.

A baby that isn’t Scarlet’s nor Brooke’s, and least of all A’keria’s.

“How did… It, even happen?” Yvie asks, confused beyond words. Scarlet is too amused playing with the baby to register her question at once, so she repeats it until she tears her gaze away to meet Yvie’s.

“We found her,” she says, as if it’s obvious. The gleeful smile that shines on her face makes Yvie unable to ask how and when. Besides, she goes on, but she goes back to focus on the baby, squeezing her cheeks. “Well, we didn’t exactly - you know Nina Flowers? From the Southeast Pisces lake? She appeared in their lake one morning, but theirs is full, so they asked us if we could take her in. So we did!” Scarlet speaks hurriedly, with genuine excitement and happiness.

Yvie knows she’s usually a cheerful person, but she’s never seen her this excited about anything - not since she gifted her an Elenia, at least.

“So, A’keria just decided to take in another child to take care of?” Yvie wonders playfully, making Scarlet chuckle.

She slowly goes back into the water, carefully cradling the baby in her arms. “Me and Brooke promised we’d act like grown children and help her out, but I’ve been taking care of her the most. I guess A’keria is taking a well deserved rest after, like, I dunno? A hundred and fifty years? Who knows who old Brooke actually is,” she rambles a little, keeping her voice down when the baby starts snuggling against her chest, closing her eyes to take a nap.

Yvie’s heart melts - Scarlet is naturally so motherly and caring, and she knows fully well her dream of being a mother.

Maybe this baby was meant to end up in Scarlet’s lake. Yvie can’t help to think the baby has been blessed by Astra.

“What’s her name?” Yvie asks, sitting closer by the shore but trying to avoid the water droplets.

Scarlet meets her gaze, a shiny smile settles on her face.

“I think I wanna name her Nicky. What do you think? She has the face of a Nicky.”

#asks #frey 💙#fics requests #astrology au #scyvie #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #rpdr fanfiction #my fanfiction #nicky doll

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shipsidescuttlebutt · 6 years

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💭 💭 💭

Marko on Elenia: I love her so much. I love her brain and her body (mainly her boobs). I don’t think she will ever see herself the way I see her. I think she is beautiful, and I love the parts of her that are prosthetic just as much as the parts that are not. I hope she knows that. My body is not whole either, and of course I am vain. I wish I was young and intact too, like we used to be. We were both more beautiful then. But it matters so much less after nearly one hundred years of yearning, that I get this chance to love her now is truly some sort of miracle.

Yora on Elenia: Aside from my brother, she is the only person I can speak to openly because she is not condescending. She does not tell me I am selfish or wrong or petulant. She understands how I feel when I say that I don’t think I belong here anymore. She’s angry and she’s sad like me.When did I become this way?

Miranda on Lady: She’s crazy. Sometimes she’s sexy, talking with her space-smuggler sass and doing risky stunts. Sometimes I think I can feel the curse tugging at my bones. Maybe I will die young.

#marko lovas #elenia volescu #yora ivuneq #miranda kemp #Lady Starheart #wsrp #ask meme

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deeafrotailmisstress · 7 years

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Fleeting Meetings

((My first WS Rp! And it wasn’t a total fail!! Ermigurd!! Thanks to @stellaralchemist for being super super chill and awesome, I really like Elena and she was fun to RP with, so I hope you guys enjoy reading this short RP!))

In a small empty bar sat Elenia Volescu by the bar enjoying a drink alone. That is, until a shorter woman speed-walked over to the right of the Mordesh and looked about shiftily, as if she was on the lookout for someone. She quickly hunched over beside the woman and grunted a small greeting “‘Sup.”

Elenia Volescu raised a blue eyebrow, looking over her datachron. “Do I know you?” She asked in a dry, hissing voice.

Jazz paused at the surprisingly direct question and scratched the back of her head quizzically “Noooo...should I know ya? If I should, I apologise, I ain’t exactly in my super focused mood right now…” She weakly smiled as she hurriedly looked to the front and cleared her throat “So uh...mind doin’ me a quick favor lady?”

Elenia gave her a thin look, raising the glass of whiskey to her lips “Why should I?”

The human beside her drummed her fingers onto the counter as she thought about an appropriate incentive. A good question indeed. Jazz bit her bottom lip nervously as she muttered “‘Cause...I’ll buy a round fo’ ya? Plus it’ll lit’rally take ya like, two seconds.”

She tilted her head to flutter her eyelashes playfully at the Mordesh with a small nervous smile “...pretty please?”

Elenia finished her whiskey in one gulp and pointed to an expensive looking bottle on the top shelf “Make it a double, then we can talk.”

Jazz’s eyes widened when she noticed that the bottle would cost her every coin in all her pockets...literally. She just mainly lived on every wage she got along the way, so it didn’t surprise her that she was rather limited on funds now. But seeing as how she almost felt the footsteps of some people she dreaded coming in here any minute now, she shook her head and gave a thumbs up to the cloaked Mordesh “Ya got ya’self a deal gal!”

She quickly ordered the bot for the requested vintage and quickly went back to hunching over as if to hide behind Elenia and stage-whispered really close to her “Could ya real quick give a peep over to ya left an’ see if any shady fellas be here or lookin’ ta find somebody?”

The blue-haired woman rolled her eyes and gestured to the corner of the bar, indicating that Jazz should hide around there “I’ll snap my fingers when it’s clear. Go hide.”

“...What if dey see me headin’ over there?” Jazz whispered louder, getting quite worried to leave her already cleverly secluded spot behind a sour Mordesh “Jus’ sayin’, they ain’ gonna wanna go pokin’ ‘round a salty lookin’ Mordesh so mebbe I oughta stick ‘round here?”

The bot on the other side of the bar whirred to refill Elenia’s drink as she shrugged “Suit yourself. Who is after you, exactly?”

“Uuuhhhh…” Jazali let out a long awkward sound as she tried to think of an excuse to not tell until she heard a familiar voice coming from down the hallway. She let out a small ‘eep!’ and completely forgot the Mordesh’s advice to hide in the corner and instead ducked under the counter to hide behind the bar in a panic move.

Elenia sighed under her breath, lifting her new glass of whiskey and casting a look over to the door. A human man cloaked in dark black leather walked into the establishment, followed by a Grund in similar attire who stayed behind in the hallway, looking around with narrow eyes.

The human male was muttering something to his datachron as he looked around the entire area, only stopping once he reached Elenia. He leaned his elbows against the counter beside her giving his own attempt at a charming smile, which came off as a sleazy smirk “...Seen a girl come by here recently?”

His only response was Elenia staring him down “Who the fuck are you and why are you speaking to me?” She asked in a flat hiss.

“Someone with the freedom to ask a simple question aren’t I?” The unshaven man smirked and raised his hands up peacefully before narrowing his eyes “You’re the only one here o’course, so I figured I’d ask since we’re merely lookin’ for a poor misplaced soul…”

She turned away from the man and already looked bored of the conversation.

“Not feelin’ like talkin’ huh?”

It became extremely apparent that she was playing solitaire on her datachron.

“...Suit yerself then.” He shrugged before hacking and spitting to the side. He gave the area one last look before he walked off, waving the Grund to follow him out. Elenia tapped on the bar with a knuckle when the man was gone, still flipping over cards “That was easy.”

Jazz lifted her head up from under the counter when she heard the knock and stared at the woman playing in silence. Her lips slowly widened into a very big grin that stretched from ear to ear before she let out a loud bark of laughter and leapt onto the counter beaming “Hah! I figured dem boys ain’ gonna wanna mess with a scary lookin’ Mordy gal like ya’self!”

She crossed her legs and sat on the counter, not noticing the mud she was getting on the wood as she grinned “That sure was a mighty nice thing ya did for me lady, an’ they ain’ even put up a fuss! Boy I like you, what’s ya name?”

“Oh wait!” Jazz smacked a hand against her forehead with a chuckle and stuck out her other one in greeting “Heya! The name’s Jazz, friends call me Jazzy or Shorty, enemies call me Little Shit, but ya can take ya pick, I don’t mind!”

Elenia lightly moved her whiskey away from the woman, staring at her critically through the chatter and eventually extended a gloved hand “Dr. Volescu. Try to speak more quietly.”

The shorter human shook her hand eagerly “Dr. Volescoo? That’s a cool name! Mind if I call ya doc? Oh!”

Jazz snickered to herself and leaned over to speak more quietly as she winked “Sorry, forgot y’all Mordesh be more o’ da silent type, but thaz cool too! My friend Moki always be sayin’ dat ya can say a lot with a few words, I just usually have trouble with that, but it’s only ‘cause I got lotso’ emotions an’ I wanna express ‘em y’know?”

She bit her lip before she could continue and sheepishly chuckled “Oh yeah, quiet, sorry. Whatcha doin’ round these parts Doc? Here jus’ fo’ the fancy drinks lovely gals like me getcha?”

Jazz cheekily smirked at Elenia, who continued to stare very hard at her. In a slow, deliberate gesture she reached into a pocket and pulled out a little packet of nicotine gum. The pieces fell into her hand in a series of pops and she started chewing “I actually came here for the quiet. Is there an Off button on you somewhere?”

Her new companion blinked in a very confused manner, not really getting the hint as she looked about herself mumbling “Uuuhh...no? I don’t reckon I do? Figure it’d be cool way ta go to sleep though! Ya reckon that’s how the Mechari be takin; their naps? Pressin’ dat off button while listenin’ to their favourite tunes like...Heavy Metal?”

Jazz snorted loudly at her own little joke before leaping off the counter and taking a more comfortable seat beside Elenia.

The doctor continued to stare at Jazz and downed the glass of whiskey, dropping the glass upside down on the counter “Do you want a piece of advice?”

“...Sure! Figure I owe ya anyways, what wid ya savin’ my butt from those weirdos, an’ I ever so appreciate it ‘cause I would prefer ta keep mah booty.” She nodded and placed her chin onto her palms, waiting eagerly.

Elenia gestured for Jazz to lean in closer, making her scoot closer in her chair, and then leaned in forward. “You will be better at hiding if you don’t shout so much.” She hissed quietly and, with a quick scan of her datachron over the waiting bot, she paid her tab and walked out.

“...I’LL KEEP THAT IN MIND!” Jazz called after Elenia as she left with a wave.

#dee writes #wildstar #Jazz #oc #exile #human #Elenia Volescu #mordesh #exiles #jasmine abernale #stellaralchemist

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thunderstaruniversalenterprises · 4 years

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Ch 1 Once Upon a Time