#figure out whats up with the corpse in white armor and find the second half of that white charm

[eldragon-x]

holy shit I might finish the game very soon

[kyberconfessions]

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. Part 4

Hello All! Sorry for the delay! My Hubby and I have had a busy month of July and I wasn’t able to keep to my schedule like I wanted too. Sorry about that. From Baseball games to Comic-Cons to Disney trips, we’ve been stupid busy. I am working furiously on the other chapters and hope to at least have some words on Cody soon! Y’all, not going to lie, the fact that there has been ZERO mention of him on The Bad Batch is killing me.

As Always:

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and deals with anxiety, death, sex,  PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory) I should say this is NOT a Rex x Cody fic. There will be ZERO Clonecest on this blog or story. Reader is a consensual relationship with Rex and with Cody. Yes they share, yes they will eventually have sex together, but Cody and Rex are NOT in a relationship nor will they be intimate.

Rating: 18+

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them

Part 4: It’s You.

You waited with your back to the door on Hondo's ship; another one was docked right outside, carrying the crew that had something either of you wanted. You took a deep breath, adjusting your blaster in your thigh holster and checking over your clothes before putting on your helmet. The base of it was a black Ubese helmet, edged with black dyed bantha hair and painted to resemble a Kaleesh skull in white.  The edges of the white skull were rimmed in a dark red and the faux eyes were painted an electric green, almost making them glow.The breather of the helmet was pointed down, tapering at the end and etched with designs reminiscent of a certain Kel Dor. Twin points also came down from the sides,  once again resembling a Kel Dor breather, but painted to look like the fangs of the Kaleesh skull. When you wore it, you were an incredibly fearsome sight to behold. 

Hondo had stepped out of the cockpit while brushing off his clothes, but when he saw you he went on and on in a poetic manner making you snort behind your mask, "Pretty Lady must you put on that horrid thing? How am I supposed to gaze upon your beautiful Visage? How am I to write songs of your shiny eyes if you insist on covering them? How am I to chant loudly into the heavens about the glory of your smile when all I see is that ugly thing staring back at me?" 

The sound that came out of the modulator was a loud crack of static. It wasn't lost on him though, and he waggled his brow at you, knowing he made you laugh.

"Hondo, one of these days I'm going to launch you out of an airlock. Then you'll be Wild Space's problem."

He laughed loudly, but before he could give a retort, the door-lock opened and the crew from the other ship began to board.

Immediately the hair on your neck stood up and your hackles raised. It was time to go into heartless bounty hunter mode, another mask that became easier and easier for you to put on.

Hondo noticed your posture change and went to greet whoever had come aboard, stepping in front of your turned back. Whether it was to hide his best and most terrifying asset or to put space between you and them for your sake, you never knew. You liked to think it was his way of still protecting you, even after all these years. It probably was.

"My friends! My friends! So good to see you again! Ezra Bridger! It has been too long!" 

You heard the cacophony of voices greeting him in a less than enthusiastic excitement. If these people were your friends, you would have laughed again. But you didn't have friends.     From the sound of it, there were four people behind you. Nothing difficult to take down, but not something you should be careless with. There was something off about one of them though, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but they were...familiar.

"Allow me for introductions! This tall, imposing creature behind me is my associate, bodyguard, smuggler, chief pilot, chief mechanic, artistic muse, platonic soulmate, oldest friend, and beautifully deadly bounty hunter, all rolled into one.  And this band of colorful characters are the crew of the infamous Ghost!" Hondo waved his hands in a grandiose manner between the group and your back; this was a well rehearsed situation that you both had done several times, though for whatever reason, he decided to over exaggerate your titles. Normally he would do the talking and you would scare the clientele. And if you had too, if they had something that you knew belonged to them, you'd kill them. Nothing would keep you from the last remnants of the ones you loved and lost.

"Ahh, Hondo? Does your associate have a name? Or talk? Are they even awake? Are they just going to stand there?" You heard a boy's voice, a cockiness only found in the young lacing every word. 

"Ezra." A woman, probably someone important, chastised the boy.

You waited for Hondo's signal for you to turn, but the door opened once more and you heard one more set of boots and something soft, furry, stepping across the steel. A voice spoke. A Lassat. Dangerous creatures, you had seen a few when you were still a young Padawan with your old Master. Before the war. Before they died. Back when your biggest concern was the eventual Trials. You knew a fight wasn't going to be easy and you hated the idea of killing an already dying race. But you would if you had too.

The Lassat male was arguing with someone about something, but you weren't paying attention.

Hondo touched your shoulder softly, your signal to turn. He had spent the time making pleasantries and lulling them into a false sense of comfort, probably. He could have been talking about the weather on Jakku for all you cared. You were more concerned about making sure the straps on your holsters were open, giving you easy access to draw.

Slowly you moved, letting them see just how dangerous you were, how in control of your body you were, how much they should fear the creature behind the helmet. But, you halted mid spin.

All of the blood drained from your face, your mouth went dry, your throat tightened up, and you were overcome with such anger and gut wrenching sorrow you thought you would snap.

The man that walked in with the Lessat was wearing HIS armor. The armor you had spent 15 years looking for.

You blanked. 

Somewhere there was yelling and cries to stop, but you couldn't make it out. Your head was spinning and it felt like there was cotton in your ears and as tunnel vision took over, everything knocked your senses for a loop. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but you grabbed both your blasters, turned fully, and pointed them at the man. Half the crew jumped out of the way, the others pointed their weapons at you, and Hondo tried to reason with both sides, standing with his back to you while the man had his own blasters trained on your head. Hondo quickly got out of the way of the four barrels, still trying to diffuse the situation. You couldn't understand what he was saying, everything sounded so dull and muted.

No, wait. Those weren't just any blasters. You would know those DC-17s anywhere. 

"HOW DARE YOU!"

 Someone was screaming. You couldn’t tell who it was or where it was coming from. It was garbled and cracking, a mechanical sound. It hurt your head. You just wanted everything to stop, just for a moment. But the world kept spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out any moment. You just wanted everything to be quiet, you needed to think, you just wanted a moment to figure out what was going on. Why was it so loud? Why did everything hurt? You just wanted everyone to just be still. Just be still, if only for a second. 

You could feel your breathing pick up, that tightening fear in your chest, that ache that gripped your heart and threatened to pull it from your body. ‘Just be quiet, please, please, be quiet. I can’t...I need to think, I need to think..’

"HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS HELM!” More screaming,  “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO HE WAS?! DO YOU?! HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS ARMOR AS YOUR OWN! HOW DARE YOU STAND THERE AND KNOW NOTHING OF HIM!" Maker, the screaming was coming from you. You were yelling at him, venomous spit falling from your mouth, words meant to shame and kill. Your blasters were trained on his chest, fingers laying on the triggers. 

"TAKE IT OFF OR I WILL RIP IT FROM YOUR BROKEN CORPSE!"

You could feel something wet on your cheeks but you didn't know what it was or where it came from.  Did this man kill Rex?! Did he rip his beloved armor from his broken body? Did he leave him to rot in some cursed field? Or did he just take it from his already forgotten skeleton? Your heart beat a mile a minute, you were sweating and your whole body shook in anger, but your hands never wavered, blasters trained perfectly on the man. How dare this cretin dishonor Rex, dishonor his memory. 

"YOU WILL NEVER INSULT HIS MEMORY AGAIN! TAKE IT OFF!!"

You were panting and your modulator was straining under the volume of your voice.

No one lowered their weapons. No one spoke. No one moved a muscle. All that could be heard were your wheezing sobs through the helm.

 There was a beat. And then another. And then the man did something unexpected.

You just knew you were going to have to kill everyone. You just knew you were going to peel bloodied, beloved armor from some backwater nothing. 

But when he slowly lowered his arms, holstering the DC-17s, you faltered. Was he giving up so easily? Perhaps he didn't want bloodshed after all. Good. But it didn't make you lower yours. Nor did it make the others lower theirs.

Slowly, like he was trying to coax a scared lothcat, the man raised his open hands to the old helm covered in hatch marks with jaig eyes and pulled it off. 

First you saw weathered skin tanned from the sun, a white beard trimmed nicely, then a strong nose and finally golden eyes, eyes you had seen a million times before. Eyes that haunted you every time you went to sleep. Eyes you thought you would never see again.

When he had taken the helm completely off and tucked it under his arm, he spoke. And everything inside of you shattered.

"My name is Rex. Captain of 501st regiment in the Grand Army of the Republic. This is my armor that was issued to me almost 20 years ago. I don't know who you think I am, but I can assure you, this is my armor."

The others watched you, weapons trained. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed. You, on the other hand, felt everything rushing back at you full force. When he spoke, his voice was a punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you, causing you to hyperventilate.  Your blasters, still trained on him, began to shake violently in your hands.

You were panting and your eyes blurred from all of the new tears. Panic rose high in your throat, cutting off your breathing. It can’t be. How could it be? He died. The Empire recorded him dying after Mandalore. You were there, you saw the absolute destruction. No one survived that.

Involuntarily you dropped your weapons and they clattered loudly to the durasteel ground, but your arms were still stretched out, still holding onto phantom guns. 

You inhaled sharply, your modulator cracking in a loud hiss. Slowly, trying to control the tremors that wracked your body, you moved your hands to your own helm and unlatched the buckles on the sides. There was another hiss as the airtight seals released the pressure and vented.

"What's going on..." the young boy started. "Hush, Ezra Bridger." Hondo cut him off, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder as you and Rex stared one another down.

You lifted your helm up and then let it fall to the floor, a loud clank shaking the silence between you all.

Rex sucked in a breath and released it in a harsh shudder, his mouth hanging open. "Mesh'la," he whispered; he could feel his knees giving out, causing him to stumble forward and push his way through his crew.

His eyes were as wide as saucers and glistening. Fat, heavy tears tracked down his face and fell into his beard as he reached shaking hands out to you. He paused for a moment, afraid that if he touched you, you would disappear like every dream before. But carefully his hands gripped your face, gently turning it side to side, taking in the scars and faint crows feet and wisps of grey hairs you now sported. Your age and harsh life showed, but you were still just as beautiful, just as ageless, just as perfect as he remembered. Still the same eyes that he dreamed of every night. 

You couldn’t breathe. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and every nerve ending burned. You could hear your blood pumping in your ears, creating a painful rush like being thrown under the oceans. Every part of you felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move. Slowly your shaking hands gripped his wrists and held him close. Your body tried to take a shuddering breath, but it only came out as a choked sob while you squeezed your eyes shut.

As the noise left you, Rex pulled you close, his mouth over taking yours in a passionate kiss, full of tongue and teeth. Your hands left his wrists and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to hold your face.

"Rex. I thought....I thought you were...Rex," you whispered into his lips between kisses.

"I searched for you, Cyare. I looked everywhere. I thought you died. I thought Cody.."

Your breath hitched at his name, making Rex pull you impossibly closer. You both stood there, wrapped in eachothers arms, crying, kissing, whispering love to one another, completely oblivious to the others. 

You weren't sure if your knees failed you, or if it were his, but one of you fell to the floor, taking the other with them, still wrapped in each other, crying and holding on for dear life. 

The Twi'lek woman quietly ushered the others, a man and a Mandalorian girl, along with the boy and Lessat, out. Hondo followed behind, a smug smile on his face, ridiculously proud of himself, giving you both much needed privacy.

[artist-assassin]

Perspective [Destiny 2 Fic]

[[Title: Perspective

Description: As a challenge from a Destiny server I’m in, I wrote a piece about the same scene from three different perspectives. Bryviks and Senri are original characters. Everyone else is just a throwaway character I’ll likely never mention again in future writings. I hope it’s easy to follow, and hope you all enjoy!]]

High upon a hill overlooking the flattest plains of the frozen planet of Europa, where the vantage point was unbeatable, sat a lone Eliksni vandal named Bryviks. He held a high caliber sniper rifle in his top set of arms, bound in rags in a half-hearted attempt to conceal the weapon from sight if anyone spotted him on the cliff edge. He sat and pondered his future, and where he could go from here. House Salvation was doomed, according to the radio he’d scavenged from supplies found among the corpses of his fallen brethren. The Guardians killed the leaders, encased Eramiskel in a dark ice that other Eliksni whispered would never melt (was she dead in her frozen tomb? Or was she still alive, seeing and feeling the world around her but unable to speak her thoughts aloud or ask for help?). He tried not to think about that, for it was a gateway to thinking about every other horrible thing the Guardians were capable of. 

They always destroy what the Eliksni build. 

A familiar anger burbled in his chest, the only thing keeping him warm in the otherwize icy tundra he found himself stuck on. He had no ship, had no idea where to procure one. Every ketch that House Salvation or even House Light ferried to and from the planet were often shot down out of the sky with blazing guns that burned everything their accursed bullets touched. Bryviks had seen other Eliksni shot with such bullets. There is never anything left of their bodies to mourn over, nothing but a faint trace of ash in the snow where they had once stood.

Bryviks shook his head firmly, checking and rechecking the tubes that connected his breathing apparatus to the dwindling ether supply strapped to his back. Perhaps he hadn’t had enough Ether, perhaps his thoughts were taking such dark turns in delirium. He wanted to stop thinking about the Guardians and everything they have stolen from him and his kind since the Great Machine blessed them with immortality.

The shake brought him back to his present, sitting upon slick ice in a frozen wasteland. He lifted his rifle to his inner left eye, surveying the surroundings attentively. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he refused to sit in a dark cave somewhere and starve to death.

                                                               ---

The snow across the icy lands of Europa sparkled beneath the planet’s sun, nearly blindingly bright if it weren’t for the helmet that the woman wore shielding her eyes. She trudged onwards even as the small white flakes began falling from the sky once again. A storm was on its way, she knew, and she wanted to find shelter before it began. 

“Guardian,” Her Ghost said in an urging tone, hidden safely in her backpack and talking to her through the helmet’s communication systems. He didn’t use her name even when it was just the two of them.

“I know,” she whispered back. There was no need to whisper, but she did it out of force of habit. 

There was a sniper on the ridge to her left, several kilometers away. She’d known about their presence for half an hour now, when her Ghost had warned her about his scanners picking up a heat signature a fair distance away. His next warning was of the poorly concealed weapon he carried on him.

“If it shoots us...” he began, worried.

“We’ll be fine,” she hushed him. She did not pause as she trudged onwards. She lived and fought by one rule and one rule alone: she does not shoot unless they shoot first. She may be renowned for her ability to finish the fights, but she will never be the one to start it.

She didn’t want to start any fights. She hated the unnecessary violence, hated the bloodshed of it all, with a burning passion. She fought only when she thought it was necessary, and now… She pulled out her Dead Man’s Tale, making sure it’s fully loaded (it is, of course, she never goes anywhere with unloaded weapons) and resting a finger on the trigger just in case. Her grip on the weapon is light, but the weight of it felt heavy in her arms. If they shot at her, at her Ghost, she would defend herself. That was all.

She saw the lone figure pull the covering off of their rifle and aim straight at her.

                                                              ---

The snow began falling again, dark clouds gathering in the skies of this forsaken frozen planet. Bryviks wished he were anywhere else in the universe than here, right now. For a moment, he even considered trying to find a way to the Tangled Shore. He has heard terrible things about the Spider, but he has also heard that he pays his workers a fair wage for their work. Bryviks is a good worker, a hard worker - he could do well in the Spider’s lair…

Suddenly, he paused. The blood in his veins turned as cold as the wasteland around himself. There, beneath the crosshairs of his rifle’s scope, was a lone figure. Not an Eliksni - this was the shape of a human body. And Bryviks knew that mortal humans did not leave their planet for any reason - rarely did they ever even leave their shining City.

A Guardian.

He had a Guardian in his scope.

He climbed up onto his knees, tearing off bits of fabric from the weapon so he could position and aim it better. One clawed finger hovered over the trigger, and he finally paused. What was he going to do? He’d acted purely on instinct upon recognizing the Guardian - a hunter, by the intricately detailed cloak it wore over its shoulders - but now, he tried to form coherent thoughts over the fog of his mind. Was he going to kill this Guardian?

He wanted to. Bryviks thought about his two sisters, and his little brother, and all of his ketch family that had fallen to Guardian hands for no reason at all. His father had joined Eramiskel in her fight against the Great Machine, and had been gunned down by a Warlock and his body looted for more ammo - more ammunition to shoot more Eliksni. A burning feeling surged through his body, and he shook in fury as he looked at the Guardian between his crosshairs.

His hand paused, his clawed finger hovering above the trigger just a breath away from shooting. If Bryviks shot this Guardian - even though he knows the little machine will appear and bring them back to life once again in a miracle of Light, he’s seen it happen so many times before - it will close so many doors of his future. 

What options would he have, after this? Where could he go? He was all alone in the universe now, no family left to guide him. He had to find his own way, somehow. His grip faltered, and he lowered the weapon with several distressed clicks of his mandibles. He thought about going to House Light. They live in the Guardian’s gleaming City now, don’t they? A part of him thinks of them as traitors to their own kind, cowards willing to turn over and dock themselves before a human Kell just for another day of survival, but another part of him wonders... Could they welcome him, possibly? He knows they wouldn’t if he tried to kill one of their precious Guardians.

He put his weapon away hastily, wrapping it up with eager, rigid movements, as if somebody would know of what he’d just tried to do if he waited even another second on this cliff. Once it was properly wrapped up again, he stood to leave. He was already thinking about how to tune his radio to a frequency that could get in contact with Misraakskel. 

A golden, burning bullet tore through his chest carapace.

He fell to his knees in an instant, more overcome with shock than pain, and looked down at his own body. It melted away into ash, and for the last split second of life he had left, he saw the Ether leaving his body in a haphazard shape of a lonely, wandering Vandal.

                                                              ---

Senri was no friend to House Salvation, or to any Eliksni who attacked her or other human-kind, but there was a familiar sensation of guilt twisted in her gut when she saw the lone figure disintegrate into ashes as the Ether seeped from its corpse.

She hadn’t fired the bullet - hadn’t even summoned a Golden Gun. In her arms was her Dead Man’s Tale, and nothing else.

Within seconds, another figure appeared on the ledge where the Eliksni once stood. Another Guardian, a Hunter with annoyingly bright yellow and orange armor, traipsed through the Vandal’s ashes with no regard to the life they had just ended and waved jovially at Senri. She could just imagine a big grin on the Hunter’s face. She frowned in her helmet, eyes narrowed. She turned on her heel, slung her rifle over her shoulder once more, and simply went on her way. The storm was approaching faster by the second. 

She wanted to leave this damned place.

                                                              ---

A week later, in some ruined little hut somewhere in the EDZ, sat two Hunters huddled around a fire. Well - there were three of them, but they had all had more than enough to drink that night and one of them had passed out cold an hour ago. The passed out man wore all black and grey clothes, using his tattered cape as a blanket as he snored soundly in one corner of the broken room.

“Wait, wait, there’s no way-!” One of the others, still awake but very much drunk, tried to whisper-shout excitedly. She wore purple and blue armor, with an electric blue cape to match her glowing Awoken eyes. The final Hunter, sitting across from her, laughed energetically and nodded his head fervently, swinging a liquor bottle as he continued his story.

“Yeah, way! That sneaky bastard snuck right up on ‘er, got his gun out an’ everything! I saw the thing power up, he was ready to take the shot!” 

The Awoken woman cooed in awe. “You saved… The Guardian. Like, not just any Guardian, but, like-”

“The Young Wolf,” the Hunter clad in obnoxiously bright yellow and orange armor nodded, far too proud of himself and not ashamed at all to make it obvious. He spoke her title in reverence, then giggled in a drunken stupor and stood up to put on his helmet and summon forth his Golden Gun once more. The Awoken Hunter grinned, stood up as well, and crouched down and put her hands out into a claw-like stratagem, mimicking a scary, bloodthirsty Eliksni warrior.

“Grrr!” She play-growled, stomping around the fire to approach her friend. She stuttered as she tried to seem threatening. “I’ll kill your Red War Hero, and then- and then go after your City next!”

“Y’er not goin’ anywhere, monster! Not if I have any say in it!” The yellow Hunter said proudly, heroically, and aimed his Golden Gun straight at his friend. He made a pew sound with his mouth, and both Guardians fell into fits of laughter. 

“You’re a hero, man!” 

And to them, that was the truth.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 7) The Elevator Shaft

I’m such a dork. I have Snake Eater stuck in my head now.

You’d scarcely gotten ten feet from the bottom of the elevator shaft when a flickering light came from above. The light sparkled like a roman candle and for a brief second you can see into the cavernous elevator shaft. 

What was revealed chills your heart.

The orange light illuminated layers of scales. The steel framing deep in the elevator shaft was crawling with sphinxes just like the ones you fought in the basement. They wrapped their long tails around the steel beams and climbed with their monstrous claws. They moved like apes, snakes and spiders. It is impossible to count the number of them, maybe dozens or maybe hundreds. There were also several elevators that were still operational. The metal cars go up and down, brushing past groups of beasts at very close distances. The elevators that are still running at such times are inevitably packed with people  - humans covered in cold sweat from panic, sweat mixed with hormones and adrenaline, perhaps mixed with traces of blood. The smell mixed together and formed a drug-like stimulus for the sphinxes. They rubbed their sharp claws against the cars as they passed by, not having figured out how to rip open the tin can and eat the meat inside. 

The people in the elevator must have heard the eerie scraping and the sound of something breathing heavily outside the car. They screamed in shrill alarm. They had no way to escape.

You were only equipped with the pistol and armor piercing rounds. There was no way you could save all these people yourself. Just like the time in Black Swan Bay when facing such an overwhelming force, the best chance for survival was to hide or flee. But there was no way to hide in the elevator shaft, and there was nowhere to go. These people were dead meat.

You climb high enough to get to the next basement floor. It was marked in Blue paint with the letters B12. The doors were sealed shut. You tried to force open the doors by squeezing your fingers in between them but they were closed tightly and refused to budge. That was probably for the best. The only people in danger at the moment were the ones in the elevators. If the doors were sealed during the earthquake, it was unlikely that many - if any- of the monsters had escaped into the building.

But someone had thrown that flare - you recognized it as a flare - into the shaft. Which meant at least one elevator door was open. It was very high up, but not at the very top of the building, about midway, near to where you had initially boarded your elevator to hell.

You climb with carefully measured steps so as not to make a sound. The shaft you were in had an elevator that was smashed at the bottom of the shaft so it should not be nearly as attractive as the ones with moving trains. You count one step per second, twenty seconds per floor, three floors a minute.

It would take you about seven minutes to get to the floor where the flare was thrown. 

As a way to pass and count the time, you sing to yourself, softly in your mind. It was one of the movies you watched, secretly in the shed, the light glittering on your face under the drop cloth that covered the stacks of firewood. The woman’s voice came through soft and smooth and seductive. You remember it so clearly.

Hey baby…

Thought you were the one who tried to run away…

Oh baby…

Wasn’t I the one who made you want to stay?

Please don’t bet that you’ll ever escape me

Once I get my sights on you.

I got a licence to kill…

Your mental tune was suddenly interrupted. The sphinxes were moving and they were moving all at once in such numbers that you had to cling to the elevator shaft as it shook and vibrated with the combined tons of muscular bodies thundering overhead. Their screams and howls were like a storm of demons that combined with the wailing of the trapped people in the elevator cars in a devil’s chorus.

You were halfway up to where the flare had been thrown. A glittering shadow rushed by you and you catch sight of his long fangs. It was literally smiling ear-to-ear since the cross section of its mouth stretched nearly to the back of its head. The powerful tail struck you in the back. Panting heavily, it didn’t seem to notice you in its haste to get up the shaft. You duck your head against the saliva that rained down on you. 

In that moment, your body shook from the deafening roar of a machine gun and in the next few seconds you were showered, not with saliva but with hundreds of shell casings! It was Caesar and Chu Zihang, it had to be. You were right in assuming they weren't going to run away.

Looking up, the light from the gun’s muzzle flash revealed a heaving ball of bodies, writhing in a single mass where you were trying to go.

A great wind pulled your hair. One of the massive creatures fell very close to you. It hit the side of the shaft and continued to fall into the void, ping-ponging as it went..

“Shit!” 

You press yourself against the elevator shaft and climb as quickly as you could, now jumping rungs and scrambling in a panic. In seconds, you’re covered in blood and gore. Bodies plummeting felt like cars passing by, missing you by mere inches, bristling with razorblade claws as they spin in a freefall. The buzzing sound of bullets whizzed by you. The walls ran with blood like a waterfall and your fingers were starting to slip.

All it would take was one bullet to strike you and you’d be dead. You’d prefer it that way. Your world would just go dark and you would lose all sensation and you would fall into Hell for real. Worst case scenario you would slip on the blood and fall, your voice joining the chorus of deathly terror one last time.

You’re now in the thick of it, bodies were jostling you and bumping into you with crushing force. But you could see him, Caesar, standing on a cross beam behind a Gatling gun. His ears were covered and he was wearing eye protection as if he was just on a trip to the gun range for daily practice. You were covered in gore. He wouldn’t be able to tell you apart from the massive swarm. And he couldn’t hear you scream.

You pull your pistol and fire once. 

The flash of the muzzle and the bullet pinging off his gun got his attention. His jaw dropped and he stared as  though looking at a ghost. But then his jaw clenched. A rain of bullets came again, this time directed at the face of the monster that had opened its mouth wide enough to devour your head in a single snap. 

Caesar reached his hand down to you but you’re too far. “FIRE!  GIVE ME COVER FIRE!”

He leaped down to dangle by one arm, coming well within range of the beasts’ searching claws. You reached for each other, your fingertips brushing, desperation reflected in your eyes.

“Jump!”

You let go of the rung and jump. His hand snaps around your wrist like a vice. His powerful arm lifts you up on the crossbeam.

But there was no time to celebrate or embrace.

The storm of metal slugs killed the joy of this Devil’s banquet. The rushing front of the group have been shot, but most of the others are only wounded. Their snake-like body is exceptionally strong. The bullets splash a little fire on the scales, a few bullets lodge in the hard bones. Dozens of huge mouths in the elevator shaft opened to the limit, and issued a shrill cry to you and the others above. 

It was actually a roar of rage. Unlike the corpse guards, whose sensory nerves had been killed in the embalming process and whose broken limbs were just like getting a haircut, the sphinxes could still feel some of the pain. The pain was not enough to make them retreat, but rather to inspire their ferocity. 

Caesar retook firm control of the Gatling heavy machine gun, pouring a storm of metal down below.  You two weren't the only ones up here. Chu Zihang was firing an Uzi and Chisei Gen was there, dressed in period armor and shooting as well. Your pistol wasn’t enough to kill these creatures unless you shot them in the eye. You even blew half the head off one with C4 and it fought ferociously despite grievous injury. Finally, you get entrusted with a gun and it's useless! 

The guns quieted slightly as everyone reloaded. "This isn’t enough to kill them effectively! We're just stalling for time!" Caesar yelled.

He was right. The monsters had retreated but were learning to hide behind beams and dash out when the group reloaded. They were pushed down eight or nice floors, but were regaining that ground quickly.

Chisei looked like he was about to toss an empty gun down the shaft but you catch it and start shoving bullets into it. He nodded to you and kept firing with a second weapon. Had another Hydra member been here he would have fallen off the beam in shock. Chisei did not give commendation to just anyone. Only rare shows of bravery and demonstrations of undeniable competence earned nods like that. Chisei had seen you crawl out of Hell only to immediately assist the team. He couldn’t help but nod.

He didn’t know you, but in a few seconds you’d proven to belong among the Cassell Aces.

Since he didn’t have to focus on reloading, Chisei began to scan his dark eyes around the space. You then see the whites around his black pupils. “Look out!” He drew his sword in a shining arc and cut above you.

Black blood showered down and a sphinx’s body fell down the shaft from above. They were moving away from the gunfire to surround you, attacking from below and above! The wounded creature was about to fall into the elevator shaft, but it turned in the air and swept its long, steel-like tail at Caesar. Caesar leaned back and dodged. The long tail knocked the Gatling heavy machine gun off the beam. With the snake tail wrapped around the heavy machine gun, it fell into the elevator shaft with it.

The dark shadows fell continuously from their elevated position, and there were more coming.

Chisei Gen walks along the steel beam with the grace of a stag, swinging his sword to force back the sphinxes and deny them a chance to find a foothold. Caesar drew his Desert Eagle and sent the mercury core rounds into the bodies of the sphinxes one by one. The bullets, developed for dragons, were so effective against them that those who were shot fell with a cry. 

You take the hint, raising your pistol with the mercury rounds and firing into them, aiming for their beaming golden eyes. You don’t waste a single shot, extinguishing those glowing orbs, like blowing out a candle with a bullet. The one-eyed corpses fall limp around you.

The steel beams above and below and to the left and right were occupied by monsters, black and red blood splattered between the beams, the black blood was the Dead Sphinxes', the red blood was Chisei’s. The Sphinx who had sneaked in from above had cut into his back.

Chu Zihang pulled out the Uzi from his waist, wanting to help Caesar and Chisei clear the monsters around him first, but he looked down and the cold air rushed by his head from behind. In the dozens of seconds without the barrage blocking the swarm below, they’d dashed upward, with the closest ones less than twenty meters away from them. Their crying converged into an eerie wave of sound tumbling through the elevator shaft. You must block this wave of attack, or your defense line will completely collapse. 

Chu Zihang violently knocked over the carry bag hanging in front of him. Thousands of bullets fell like brass-colored rain. He threw another item into the elevator shaft, a piece of C4 plastic explosive stuffed with an electronic fuse. He had another carry bag beside him, which was stuffed with even more plastic explosives!

The explosive fell twenty meters and exploded, the air wave and fire compressed within the confines of the elevator shaft and could only spread upward or downward. You watch the beautiful sight of fire-colored clouds rising from the deep shaft. All the bullets exploded simultaneously in the blaze. Thousands of missiles bounced in the elevator shaft at high speed. The serpentine black shadows were engulfed by the rain of bullets and fire, and those bullets fired in a disorderly manner whizz by you, barely missing. But Caesar actually yelled "good". 

Caesar's two-handed Desert Eagle fired in unison at a sphinx that was hissing with his mouth open. It was so close to Caesar that the fire from the muzzle and the last mercury core bullet penetrated its mouth. The mercury destroyed its brain. This one fell into the darkness with a mournful cry. To your right, Gen Chisei also stabbed another through the heart. 

Black blood clung to his body and flowed slowly as all four of you fell silent.

You had the advantage of weapons and terrain, but probably no more than fifteen Death Servitor Sphinxes had actually been killed. The explosion didn't kill these dangerous creatures either, and they continued to climb up with their long tails wrapped around the steel frame after plunging a few levels, covered in blood. The human side had lost its most important weapon, the Gatling heavy machine gun. 

The positions on the steel beams could no longer be held. Caesar gathered you in a powerful hug and together you jumped into the building. You’re a room that’s filled with huge murals, Torii gates and curtains like an ancient temple. Fire was serving as the light to his place, eating up the walls and the curtains in a rapidly progressing blaze. Caesar set you down and, together with Chisei, pushed a heavy iron wheel shrine to block the elevator door. 

Chu Zihang rushed out from a room that was filled to the brim with weapons and he threw a submachine gun and magazines at you. Without a word you load up. Everyone knows that this is just a delay.  Soon these beasts will charge into this temple in the middle of Genji Heavy Industries to enjoy the feast. 

Even if they don't rush in you’re still going to die. The fire is still burning, although there are not too many flammable things here, sooner or later the fire will go out. The burning will soon consume the oxygen in the air and you will suffocate.

Wordlessly, you finish taking in the situation. Dying here doesn’t bother you too much. After all, you figured that sooner or later your luck would run out. What hurts your heart is that Lu Mingfei is not here. You hoped he wasn’t dead, or trapped in an elevator. You hoped he got out. But all you could see was his panic and concern as he rushed around with his box of documents and your hope died.

[sirensmojo]

Scar - Geralt Of Rivia x Reader

Summary: You’re a creature chased by Geralt Of Rivia for a week now, but he couldn’t find you. What he doesn’t know is that you were spying on him since the beginning, when another creature attacks him you stand by his side which causes you to stick with him until he decides if he should follow his feelings and keep you alive, or do the job and kill you.

Warnings: fluff, mystical creature, fights, magic, terror & horror

Word Count: 2,757

 Masterlist

Geralt set a camp in a forest, the same he was told not to cross as humans never came back alive from, but he doesn’t have anything to risk. He isn’t a human, maybe this forest was for mystical creatures only. At first, everything went well. The sun was still up, stick to a blue sky sprinkles by the tips of highs bushy and leafy trees. It was boiling hot, he took off his armor, and his body flopped in a vivid sleep near his horse. It founds him well as it has been, three days in a row of sleepless nights.

Swiftly, his body stiffs, eyes snapped open, looking far away, when they finally lock on something unusual. He gets up on his feet and waits, quietly, his eyes following each shadow it can find.

It is when he glimpses of it, in the distance. His head tilted, eyes squinted, a mere inhuman shadow, only visible from where he stands. The beam lights were stopped by the trunks of trees here and there, making it impossible to keep an eye on the form. It was almost as if the thing vanished from one tree to another, Geralt was confused, his brow narrowed at the vision of horror that played before him. One minute it was there, near a bush, the other, right behind a high branch. Nearly human, but not human enough to make him feel comfortable or make sense of it. A grunt escapes his dry, plump lips as the taste in the air changes, Geralt was cold, all of a sudden. He is not yet sure of what presented in front of him, but until then, his sword will stay on the ground.

A high-pitched tone shrill springs out the dark, an animal he concluded. But what sort of animal does this noise? Add to that the pace of the shadows getting quicker and nearer, a peculiar form lurking in the trees. The leery breath of the man started to thicken as his lips parted. If he doesn’t feel at the mercy of anything dangerous, why can’t he control his breath? Or his pounding heart? At each sound, even the slightest, he can’t help but gaze in that direction. His golden eyes flickered from a point to another by the time he notices the settings have changed.

The leaves had left the trees to encounter the ground that it’s covered in white thick peach fuzz. He put one knee on the soil with a hand-dipped in the white sea. It was indeed snowing. An umpteenth grunt slips out his throat, blowing his warm breath in the cold dark. Moreover, his eyes don’t accommodate to the darkness nicely. Not enough to be able to discern reality and imaginations, not sufficiently to put words and reasonable thoughts on what this animal was, not enough to ease his, now, edgy self. Why the beast doesn’t attack? Or was it even a beast? The Witcher came to that conclusion because the feeling in the air has been always more dense and thick, when there’s a mystic creature in the areas, he senses it. Now all he could sense was leather and woods, for some reason. He pinches his nose, quite annoyed by his helplessness, closes his eyes for a demi-second and inhales deeply, which lead to some unwanted noise caused by his half blocked nostril due to the low temperatures.

“Fuck” He whispers.

Not a single sound reaches his ear after that breath, not a single shadow seen. When his eyes open, his whole body is on alert. His arms tense, his torso stiffens, whereas his legs were hammered in the dense white veil covering the spot. Something was approaching. It even passed by him in a fury. His blood boils in his veins. Even so, he feels like each cell weighted ten times its weight in silver. Geralt heard a last shrill noise nearby by the time he fought with the last drops of strength flowing into his body and reach out for his sword. As he struggles to lift it, a jaw closes on his shoulder. He winces in pain, spitting a deep growl towards the shadows. Gauging by how fast the pain spreads locally, the mouth of the creature must be his main weapon. When it backs off after its first bite, the Witcher figured out the thing will not kill him straight, it isn’t hungry or extra. It utterly wanted to play with his prey, him. He felt like his hands paralyzed, but also shook the most, he’s unsure if it was caused by the frozen or by the bite. His black eyes sprang out, revived thanks to the ache emanating from his dysfunctional shoulder, as it gives him a full ability to discern what attacked him.

It looks like a woman with large spider-like legs coming out of its back. Its body resembles a grisly exoskeleton more than the pulpy features of the human woman he spent the last night with, indeed. That thought, making the Witcher smile.

Despite the new ache focus blooming all over his body, the man was still standing on his feet, springing his sword at the neck of the still unknown yet hideous creature when it jumps back at him. The man heard a terrible screeching sound as the creature crawl about a large boulder. Behind him, rustling bushes and a thud, as if something has slid and then dropped down from the trees behind. Yet still, he can’t look back or the spider-looking thing will take enjoyment in biting again, and he knew well he would not survive another bite. He was encircled by weasel creatures that let him an interval to swallow that today is the day he’ll surely die, in the gelid forest, where hours ago it felt as hot as burning coals. The blood dripping from his huge wound was abnormally overflowing, damping his whole white tunic. On top of that, his death comes in the middle of nowhere, far from his pathetic life.

Perhaps in the next world he have peace of mind?

He can’t even comfort his spirit with this thought because as wicked, cold, and evil as this place seems, he preferred to rest under its ground for the rest of life rather than facing the endless void he thought was waiting for him behind the veil.Although the beast was aggressive and agile, the Witcher still tries to aim its back with clean and neat sword movements. Even with one arm left, the battle was not yet determined, but the white-haired man stays confident, patiently looking for an opening. On which occasion he knows he will not hold back his blow.

***

There is blood pooling at your feet and welling up from your throat. There are thousands of bodies around you, all with these same holes burned in their jaws. You woke up abruptly, with the boorish stench of rotting corpses winding each portion of your body as if you weltered in a bath of death. Besides the smell, the knife in your stomach that you see is a dull pain. 

You scratched your lids and opened your eyes again. “Holy crap on a cracker,” you whistle. And fear clouds your every thought, every movement and action from now on. Your heart beating in your chest warning you, he got enough of these for a lifetime or so. All you can think at this moment is how this foulness occurred. Because you are sure you don’t remember the hammered knife in your guts, nor falling asleep in the waters. Your voice instinctively tries to reach out for a name, “Geralt!” you continuously weep, tired of seeing blood and wounds every so often. Where did you go? He asks himself. Usually, he would think you just wanted to go back to your life, but something in his guts told him this isn’t right. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard your voice calling for him. He sprints through the forest, lungs burning as he calls you back. The more his breathing grew louder, the more he knew he was near. He can’t hear his desperate breaths, can’t even hear the pounding of his own heart. All he could hear was the soft melody drifting across the wind before him.

“Y/n,” Geralt muttered near your head. You try to lift your hand to his face, but instead, he grabs it and passes it around his neck, helping you to stand. “You turd!” You whisper, almost out of breath. The golden-eyed man looked over your face and grunts, as a sign you got his attention. “Can’t you see the knife?” you teased with a breezy voice. You wonder if you were still dreaming or if all of this was real. Thus, when the pain in your belly starts to prickle. “Just put it out,” you spat some blood. “I’m bringing you somewhere safe,” he riposted. But by the flimsy laugh leaving your weak body, he rolled his eyes and dropped you carefully at the feet of an old tree. His gaze was sinking so deep into you it almost ripped out your soul.

You wanted to say something, but the overflowing blood of your injury got in your head, making you feel dizzy. The face of Geralt is blurry, so is the forest, and again your eyes shut to join a dimension that you swear is your personal hell. There is blood running down the corner of your mouth. You’re invited to look down by the putrid odor, noticing the dead pile of carcasses on which you sat. You began to yell. “Oh, no-no-no. Please no, don’t tell me that… Oh gods, no,” your voice resonated like an echo. Each of your words coming back at the place that sets them free.

You knit your brows as your orbs open. “You finally up?” the deep and raspy voice of the Witcher resonating in your ears. “I haven’t slept in days… Anytime I close my eyes, I feel it reaching out to grab me,” you spitted curtly. The long-haired man, standing and turning his back at you, only grunt as an approval. ”‘Feeling what?’ I heard you asking,” you add. “Did I?” Geralt looks over his shoulders, squinted towards you. You nodded, ready to spread out another layer of drama at the top of your current situation. “Those blackened claws… They’re coming for me. I am the blackened claws,” your solemn tone caught the attention of the Witcher, that slid to sit on the log beside you, holding you a flask of water. He exhaled deeply, avoiding your eyes.

“All I know about you is that you miraculously healed from a knife in the guts. I didn’t see any claws, even less blackened,” the man sings, proud of himself. You choked on your drink and hassle to pat your stomach, even ripping your cloth to the side to be able to corroborate his words.  “What the goose?” You sputtered, the tip of your finger seeking your wound in vain. Your eyes wide, you lift your gaze to the sour complexion of the man. “The goo- what?” he repeats, one eyebrow lift to you, which you ignore. “What else has happened?” you reluctantly ask, not sure you wanted to know other eerie things you may have missed about yourself. “Well,” he tilted his head in a chuckle, a smirk graces his face. “It’s that bad?” you cut him off brows narrowed as your gazes lock. Geralt tensed his jaw, a grunt slips its way out, seeing the worry in your eyes. “Can you stand?” he asks your way. You slowly let go of the soil in your hands and lift them to the sides of your body, then you push on your legs, and, as if it was the first time, you throw Geralt your warmest smile, glad. He stands up on his feet and slips on the cloak he just grabbed. You confusedly looked at him. The weather was so hot and humid. You wondered why he needed this cloak. “Come, on,” Geralt cheerfully purrs, motioning that you follow. You executed, quietly walking beside him. When Geralt stops, your two looks drop at the same thing, your feet. Your narrowed eyes describe plainly the conundrum displaying in your head. You kneel and spread your fingers above the white veil before you clench your fingers in a fist, imprisoning the substance in it. You stand back up, still looking at your fist as you open it. Geralt observed the scene with cautious eyes, he surmised you had something to do with the snow, but not quite sure if so, why you were mesmerized by it as if it was the first time you touch it. “Is this familiar to you?” he motions his hand toward the areas.

Indeed, it is familiar. The day before, you saved his life while he was fighting with a deadly injury here.

Geralt hears rustling bushes behind him, followed by a thud. You, now, stand near the scene you were observing from above. Eyes flickering between the watcher and the Cipher, he was staring at, crouching in the shadows. You thought you had each of those bastard creatures. Apparently, one remains. “On your knees,” you commended. Hearing your sassy tone, Geralt looked over his shoulder, and what a surprise he has. Two creatures for the price of one. Solely, you were not the same species that assaulted him. Your eyes constantly drip a yellow ooze, your paces utterly silent as you neared him.

A loud and shrill, high-pitched cry comes from behind a boulder as the wind comes in blasts followed by hailstorms, and thundershower. This tempestuous weather buried a sweltering atmosphere, seizing Geralt by the throat. Him, that refused to kneel before you find himself forced to. The wind is sweeping every greenery leftovers, and rain is draining down any hope of survival.

In the distance, the Witcher shields his eyes with his hand against any projectile and watched as you and the Cipher jumped high in the air with stabbing shrieks and subsequently collide in a mystical twirling of both magic energies. He cringes as the yellow ooze drips from your eyes into the bite holes in the jaw of your victim, infecting her. In a rush of gloom, everything stops. The rain freezes in midair, and the wind hushes. The mist vanishes behind the trees, the dusty sky, making room in an azure and bright one.

Even the heat, passionate mild settles back as if nothing has happened, the only evidence of the previous chaos being the spruce firing body on the ground. “You should fetch more woods that is dry if you don’t want this flames to die” You solemnly let out towards Geralt. “Bloody hell, that rhymes,” you heatedly cheer yourself up. Though the warmth mastered the air again, the snow still envelops each section of the brush like a soft thick blanket of ice and drifting snow. It is an eerily beautiful sight the golden-eyed man is lucky to witness. Geralt lids fluttered in incomprehension for a brief instant, he suddenly stands back up and hassled his hand to his wound shoulder, only to find nothing. The injury completely healed, single marks of sharpening teeth as scars left in there. “How?” he grumbles.

“I can put it back if you want?” you suggest, lifting your eyes brows. Geralt that was still searching for his nonexistent wound stops on track and glared at you, a grunt emanating from the deepest of his throat. “What?” you shrug. “I can slap you… with a wet fish,” you added, gauging his reaction. “Maybe it wasn’t me,” you shrug to him, not knowing what else to say. “Don’t it help your memories flow back into your mind?” asked Geralt as both of you stood near the gathering ashes of bones who initially was the Cipher you killed.You shook your head and mutter. “No, it’s still as dry as a bad piece of lettuce” Geralt glances at you as soon as the words left your mouth. “Hmm,” he grunts.”But Y/n, it is your doing,” he maintains, your weird comparisons comforted him most in his assumption.

[theofficersacademy]

Days grow ever shorter as the cold deepens across Fódlan, sprinkling the first powders of hoarfrost from its icy hand. Roaring fires become the eye of every household, a halo of red to match that which cloaks the silhouettes of wolves under the growing moon. Their distant howls strike fear into the hearts of shepherds in the dark.

The north winds of Faerghus bring not only the promise of winter, but whispers of concern surrounding a particular Kingdom nobleman. Rumor has it that this man has been acting strangely - erratic one day and lethargic the next, occasionally mumbling gibberish under his breath. His sudden disappearance has resulted in calls for the Church to investigate. After the fiasco in Leicester, however, those who are called to look into the matter have been ordered to shed their uniforms and make their identities a secret. As eastern Faerghus settles in for an impending snowstorm, no one will bat an eye at travelers searching for warmth and shelter.

Golden Deer Mission: Investigate Duke Philip!

GD Mission Board

Faerghus' winter storms come early this year. The bone-deep chill you feel as a strong wind blows through your group is worse than the priests back at school forewarned. Unless you're planning to become a popsicle, you should do as the Faerghans do and try to build yourself some shelter.  

You stick out like a sore thumb in your school uniforms, and they're not quite enough to keep you warm either. On your travels, you come across a ransacked village, scorched and trampled... it's an opportunity to find more appropriate clothes, even if you're mixed on the idea of becoming a second group of bandits. What’s more, the destruction seems fairly recent...   

Ill-prepared for the weather as you are, you manage to get lost in the forest just outside of the location you’re supposed to be investigating. Part of your group builds a fire to stay warm as the sun begins to sink, while the other sets out to regain their bearings. It’s just as dusk sets in that the trees come alive with low moaning and the sound of something being dragged through the leaf litter. You brace for a monster, but instead you find humans - around half a dozen - with ashen skin and their eyes rolled back into their heads. One swings at someone in your party and sends them flying into a tree, but unfortunately your attacks aren’t so potent. Standard weapons bounce right off of these things. Fortunately for you, Nessie of the Knights of Seiros is with you, and one strike from her gauntlets reveals the monster’s weakness: Relics. [Grants +1 Reason or +1 Brawling]  

With Nessie’s help, you make it to the village at last. There seems to be some sort of ritual or festival going on - one that doesn’t correspond to any holiday you’ve heard of. Not to mention that decor seems half-rotted already, and the houses look to have been neglected for weeks. There are people in dark cloaks, their faces concealed, shuffling in between crowds of those same corpse-like monsters you fought in the forest. Except Nessie recognizes a handful of them by name, and you come to the cold realization that these are people. Dressed in robes yourself, you go unnoticed by whoever is leading this strange ritual. Try to keep a low profile as you observe. [Grants +1 Faith]  

You’re on the lookout for a Duke Philip - the man supposedly in charge of this village, and the one whose report you initially received. There’s a house at the far end of the village with doors and windows both completely boarded up. But through a hole, you manage to see a glimpse of a shadow pacing back and forth at all hours of the day. The cloaked figures in the village also seem especially interested in this place, as there are often three or four patrolling the area at any given time. Make too much of a commotion and your mission will be in jeopardy.

NEW ! As time goes on, you begin to notice a pattern. Occasionally one of the villagers will be called to the house on the far end of the village. Some never return. Others return more irritable and irrational, similar to the people you discovered in the forest. It's reason enough to try investigating the building more thoroughly. You find a way in through a trap door, where stairs lead you down into a basement, dark save for the familiar glow of magical energy. It's hard to comprehend what half of these contraptions are for, and even harder to make your way around the room. Your foot catches on something, and clanging metal precedes a strange "beeping" sound that comes from a tall tower-like object in the center of the room. You already have a bad feeling about this, and the bolt of thunder magic that shoots from the tower only confirms it.

NEW ! Over the past few days, the buzzing noise in your ears has gotten louder and louder. It breaks your focus and deafens your thoughts, and as your friends approach you and voice their concerns, your only thought is to push back against them and shut them up. Perhaps permanently. As your mind begins to fray under whatever has been influencing the villager's, can your friends bring you back to your senses?

NEW ! It started with only a few to begin with, not enough to prove conspicuous. But as the month drags on, there's no two ways about it: the shambling villagers going through the worst of this curious blight share at the least one thing in common. Each of them bears a lance, all the more suspicious for how normal the weapons appear at a glance. A closer look may reveal more to the puzzle, though that will first involve prying a villager from their prize - an endeavour that will require planning lest you bring the horde of them upon yourself. [Grants +1 Lance]

Non-Mission Tasks

The local cats and dogs of the monastery have been anxious recently. One of the students, who had been known to play with them and leave them food, has recently gone missing. Your investigation into the matter leads you behind the abandoned cathedral, where you find a giant Demonic Wolf crouched over her body. As it licks her hands, growling and whining, you spot a bright pink ribbon tied around its neck, nestled in its matted fur. The wolf takes notice of you, steps forward protectively, and growls low.  

As the days grow colder, students balk at the idea of walking around outside in the cold, especially late at night. Whispers of a shortcut quickly spread through the student body: if you're coming from the library, you can go through the gallery hall to get back to the dorms. It's not long until this path is marred by rumors of an armored thief stealing people's books and essays late at night. There's a reward if you unmask the criminal, but soon enough you find out that there's more to this criminal than you thought. Too bad the realization only comes when one of the armored knights on display is magically brought to life, brandishing its sword at you. [Grants +1 Sword]  

Cold weather is on the rise, and the students are eager for new games to entertain themselves with. Luckily for them, the mage club has been happy to provide! Inspired by the visiting wyvern flock last moon, they have devised a new contraption: the magicanical bull! Combining magic and mechanical parts, this faux bull does its very best to throw its rider off its back. The name of the game is to last as long as you can! How long can you hold on before you fall? [Grants +1 Riding]  

The staff of Garreg Mach are calling for volunteers! On a nearby snowy mountain sits a large, abandoned tower from days long past. Lady Rhea wishes to bring this building to this century and create a recreational space for the students. There are floors to sweep and beds to make, but the discovery of a large hot spring tempts you to play hooky....  

With only weeks to practice for the White Heron Cup, students busy themselves by ordering their ball attire and practicing their dance moves. Even the stodgiest grump can't help but feel energized by the excitement in the air.

NEW ! A recent snowstorm at the base of the Oghma Mountains has blown a group of lumberjacks into Garreg Mach's castle town. The Society of Axe Personnel (proudly referring themselves as "SAP") are grateful for the assistance that the Church has offered, and in return they decided to put together a lumberjack skill competition! Practice climbing trees, logrolling in the fishing pond, and carving wooden statues with your axe! [Grants +1 Axe]

NEW ! Strange magical happenings are a dime a dozen these days, and the administration has taken notice. For the students' safety, the faculty have devised a new winter session course in defending against magical attacks, geared towards those with little resistance. If the sight of heavy armor and broad iron shields doesn't earn a groan from the students, the words "mandatory for all Officers Academy students" in the course description certainly will. However, the talented mages in the student body have some tricks up their sleeves. One morning you arrive at class with the armor already in use, the students using their shields to bash at a flaming ball of magic and bring it closer to the goalposts on one side of the field. One of the players notices you and calls out. They just invented this cool new game, do you want to play? [Grants +1 Heavy Armor]

Frequently Asked Questions

How does the divided task board work?

This season’s mission is assigned to the Golden Deer. Therefore, tasks from the ‘GD Mission Task Board’ must be undertaken by someone that is affiliated with the Golden Deer.

Tasks from the ‘Non-Mission Task Board’ have no house restriction and can be undertaken by anyone.

These aren’t the only threads I can do, right?

Of course not! These are just prompts to help give some ideas of possibilities. You’re always free and encouraged to make up your own threads. You’re also more than welcome to worldbuild on your own, using these prompts as a base.

How do I claim the skill points?

In order to qualify for the skill point, the thread must clearly allude to the listed task and preferably feature the task being completed; however, the point can still be claimed even if your muses narratively fail the task (failure is sometimes just as fun to write as success, after all). You do not need to message the masterlist to claim your skill point.

Can I only do one task?

Nope, you can do as many as you’d like with as many different partners as you’d like! You can do the same task with more than one person! However, you can only claim the skill point for each task once.

What if my partner leaves or drops a skill point thread?

If the dropped thread has at least 2 notes (not counting likes, only reblogs with replies in them) and you have hit at least 400 words on your end, you may still claim the skill point.

Remember to use (and track!) the #toa open tag for any open threads, and you can also post a link to your open thread on the appropriate Discord channel! If you have any other questions or concerns, shoot us a message through the masterlist or on Discord!

[platypanthewriter]

Nostalgia

Harringrove April day 16, Nostalgia!  Steve finds himself walking an underwater city, where everything feels familiar...except Billy.  A Bioshock AU, but I had a friend who hasn’t played the games check it, and I'm assured it makes sense!

The ocean poured inside the plane, and Steve swam for the hole blown in the side, trying to keep his bearings in the plumes of bubbles from the seats and the murky darkness of oil.  He gasped for breath when his head broke the surface, and breathed in smoke, his lungs aching.

The lighthouse was a beacon, the only safe haven in a sea of wreckage.

It felt nostalgic.

He opened the door into it and found the bathysphere, and the controls were intuitive, like he’d used them before.  All those times I crashed at sea, he thought with a snort, glancing around warily.

He emerged miles below the surface, in a world of glass walls and ceilings, flickering lights, to crackling saxophone on a jukebox.  The nostalgia was so strong it was almost metallic in his mouth, and he kept trying to remember the name of the sunken city, though as far as he knew, he’d never been there before.

The first person he saw was a little girl, tucking her dirty, frilly dress out of the way to bend over a mutilated corpse.  She was singing a little song—the made-up kind children always sang, starting and ending nowhere—and she stabbed a huge syringe into the dead man’s back.

It was strange, Steve thought, how strange it wasn’t, to him.  He watched her drink from the syringe, her eyes glowing, and the radio he’d been carrying—the radio he figured had died, in the crash or the swim—crackled to life.

“Don’t kill her,” came an urgent voice.  “They’ve worked their worst on her, but she’s still a just a kid.  Don’t kill her, I can—I can help you—”

“Ssh,” Steve whispered, as a huge, armored mechanical man—or mechanical armor?!  It was hard to tell—lumbered up to the little girl, and scooped her up onto its shoulder.  She cackled with glee.  

“That’s a Big Daddy,” said the radio, more softly.  “They—” 

The voice was cut off by the noise of screaming, as a band of people in ragged evening wear jumped down on the guardian and the shrieking little girl.  Steve aimed his .45 at the one swinging a whiskey bottle at her head, forgetting it’d been drenched and wouldn’t fire.

“Would you kindly not kill my sister,” hissed the radio, and Steve would have rolled his eyes, but the Big Daddy had grabbed the guy with the whiskey bottle and drilled through him with some kind of huge prosthetic, swinging his body to knock the other assailants away.  Steve held very still, because the little girl seemed to be protected well in body, if not in mind.

She seemed unbothered, though, by the showers of blood and viscera, and Steve watched her skip off hand-in-hand with the armored beast with the same aching nostalgia.  “Who are these people,” Steve whispered.

“Splicers,” said the voice.  “They made themselves faster, stronger—some of them can shoot lightning.  But it has other effects.”

Steve nodded slowly, bending to scoop up the whiskey bottle and take a swig.  “I wouldn’t have hurt your sister,” he whispered, keeping a wary eye out as he inspected the fallen attackers for weapons.  “There was a guy trying to knock her block off with a bottle.”

“...good.  Don’t,” said the voice.

The dead people were wrong—grown strangely out of their own clothing and shoes, bent recently so that a knee here or a deformed elbow there were skinned from having to suddenly support their weight.   

One of the women had had a revolver, and he grabbed it, then a shotgun lying nearby.  There was water pouring through part of the ceiling onto a grand piano, and Steve’s heart panged, a little, to see the destruction of somewhere that felt like...home.  

“Who are you?” he asked, and listened to silence.  The lights flickered inside to show the dimly glowing helmet of another of the lumbering, armored men outside, and Steve ducked into the hallway, keeping his movements quick and low.  He could see into another glass domed hallway nearby, where a woman threw a grenade at what looked like a machine gun turret, and everything went dark.  When the lights flickered back on, the part of the ocean where the other hallway had been was dark.

“I can help you get back to the surface,” the voice over the radio said, and Steve wondered how to explain that he felt right here, even with the violence and the water pouring in around him.  “Help me get my sister, and I’ll show you how to get out.”

I don’t want to leave yet, Steve thought of saying, but he grimaced instead, watching his boots sink into the plush, patterned carpet, with the feeling he’d watched it before.  Not until I know what’s going on.  “Where are you?” he asked.  “And what d’you need me to do?”

The voice laughed.  Through the radio crackle, it was hard to tell much, but now that Steve wasn’t distracted, he thought it sounded like a man, youngish.  “I’m not telling you where I am,” it whispered.  

“I don’t know how I can help you, then,” Steve told the voice, and it laughed.  

“I need you to kill a Big Daddy,” it said.

 The voice explained how to fool the security turrets, and as Steve wandered around the district, he began to get a feel for what the voice at the other end of the radio could see, what he couldn’t, and where he might be.  

Steve found a man with a molotov cocktail and bad conversational skills outside the pump room, and when he tried the key from the man’s corpse’s belt in the door, it turned.  The vent from there was wide enough for his shoulders, and Steve reckoned they must need it big, pumping so much air around down here.  He crawled through, listening to the voice say “...I lost you.  Where are you—” before coming up right behind the person talking.

He whipped around, panting, and stared down the barrel of Steve’s revolver, dropping an enormous wrench and raising his hands.  Steve was right—he was about Steve’s age, his curls wild where his rabbit half-mask was tied over them.  He was shirtless in ripped coveralls, with the top off and tied around his waist.  He was smirking, wide-eyed, as he licked his lips.

“Who are you?” Steve asked, again.

“I’m Billy, Billy Hargrove,” he said, leaning in, and Steve registered he was a splicer too—the veins all along his left arm were black, and that hand was twisted and elongated.  He had blood on him, like the others, but some of it looked like his own, from his split lip, and from the flesh still seeping where the bones in his hand had warped.  “I’m helping you,” he hissed, his grin widening.  “Would you kindly not shoot me.”  

Steve hadn’t really intended to, but he’d just had someone clamber across the ceiling with ice hooks—singing a hymn—and then drop on his head and try to murder him, so he was a litle twitchy.  “I probably won’t,” he said.

The guy’s mask was white and gold, an odd contrast to his filthy work clothes, and Steve glared through the eyeholes to see blue eyes, wide and red-rimmed.  “Anything I can do to shift your opinion?” Billy asked, his muscles gleaming with cold tension sweat.

“Can you shoot lightning?”

Hargrove shook his head, slowly.  “I know the way out,” he whispered, licking his lips again.  “I can do some things.  Not that.”

“What things,” Steve hissed, and Billy lowered his hands, slowly.  

“I just wanna find my sister,” he said, reaching up and pushing Steve’s gun away from his face.  “Just help me find her, she’s one of those little girls out there.  They took her.”

“They...steal children?” Steve asked, somehow more shocked than he’d been by anything else so far.  Billy just nodded, watching his face.  “Who stole her, those...armored monsters?”

Billy laughed.  “The scientists that made the armored monsters,” he said, “...and other things.”

“...the splicers,” Steve realized.  

“What the splicers used,” Billy agreed, shrugging, with a rueful glance down at his malformed hand.  “In the end, pretty much the same.”

“What else?” Steve asked, and Billy stared back at him for a long second, and then smiled.  His split lip left blood on his teeth.

“The little girls help gather it, now,” he said.  “They made little girls able to gather what will let you shoot lightning.”

“...is that what she was doing with the body,” Steve asked, his gorge rising, and Billy smirked.  

“If I don’t find my sister first, she’ll drink me after I’m dead,” he said, lightly, and Steve shuddered, for the first time uninterested in the mysteries of the city hidden away under the ocean.

“...can you use a shotgun?” he tried next, and Billy nodded, then stumbled as Steve shoved it into his hands. 

 Around then another voice came on Steve’s radio, and told him about a family in danger, a woman and a small child, and asked, trembling over the radio waves, whether Steve would kindly help save their lives.  The words felt familiar and right, and Steve tried to remember the city, remember their words, as he agreed.  

Billy just sighed.

 They wouldn’t have started trouble with the first Big Daddy, but a splicer clonked it on the head trying to steal the little girl, and it attacked everything, after that.  Steve ran out of ammo, once, and Billy chucked his wrench at it and ran up a pile of packing crates.  He yelled as the thing knocked them aside like they were ABC blocks, until Steve could draw its attention back with a tommy gun the splicer had dropped. 

They took it in turns to rewire the security turrets, and Billy still nearly died, the drill grazing his jaw as Steve emptied their shotgun into the thing’s kidneys.  Billy fell as it fell, slumping to his knees and staring straight ahead, and Steve threw the gun down and checked him for injuries, then cupped his face.  “Billy.  Billy,” he whispered.  “Are you hurt?”

“...you killed it,” Billy whispered back, laughing unsteadily, and then he leaned in and kissed Steve, his lips cold and shaking, but his mouth warm.  “You killed it,” he whispered again.  “We can do this,” he mumbled against Steve’s lips, his voice breaking.  

Billy’s shivering arms around Steve’s neck were the first time something had felt new, down here, and he sat for a long second, thinking it out.  “...we’ll find her,” he said, and Billy laughed, wide-eyed behind his mask, and then ran his tongue over his teeth, grinning.  

“You’re sold, huh,” he said, and Steve snorted a laugh, and helped him up.  

 The little girl clung to the charred hulk of the Big Daddy, sobbing, and Steve lifted her away guiltily as she kicked and screamed, and then, when he didn’t hurt her, clung to him.

“...that’s not her,” Billy whispered.  “Damn it.”

“All right,” Steve said, “—hup!” and picked her up, letting her sing her creepy little song as her eyes glowed. 

“Kill her,” said the other voice, over the radio, and Steve and Billy stopped, glancing at each other, as the little girl climbed up to hug Steve’s head.  

“Don’t,” said a voice close by, and Steve turned to see a woman half-hidden behind one of the crates.  Her German accent was as familiar as almost everything had been since he’d arrived, and he squinted under the little girl patting his hair, her weight making him stand crookedly.  

“I wasn’t going to kill a child,” he said, and the woman stepped forward, a little.  

“If you help her, she can help you,” she said.

“We’re trying to help her,” Steve said, and Billy leaned to whisper in his ear.

His breath was warm.  It was a new sensation, and Steve shivered, distracted.  “That’s the doctor that did this,” Billy told him.

“And I know how to undo it,” she said sternly, ignoring Billy’s snort.

“How?” Steve asked, trying to ignore the weight of Billy’s chilly shoulder leaning against him, and she tossed him a syringe.  

“Take that,” she said.  “It’ll let you save them.”  She glanced at his radio.  “...or kill them.  Children.”

“I will save them,” Steve reiterated, annoyed, and Billy watched his face warily, but helped him push the syringeful of glowing liquid under his own skin.  

The little girl yelped and squirmed as Steve laid his hand on her stomach and drew the glow out of her eyes and skin, and Billy’s tense fingers left bruises in his arm, but when he sat her down, she clutched at Steve’s hand.  “Thank you, mister,” she said, and Billy gave a throaty gasp, swallowing hard.  

“We’ll save her,” Steve told him, squeezing him close, and Billy leaned up for another soft kiss, lingering this time.  He tasted of blood, and salt from the tears leaking down through his mask.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away and grabbing the tommy gun.

 He ran with Steve to try and save the voice’s family, and they watched the bathysphere they’d tried to save get overwhelmed by splicers, and sink.  “Damn it,” Billy whispered, as the voice sent them hunting someone else.  

He called the city Rapture, and it fit like a puzzle piece in Steve’s mind, the beginning of a complete picture.

“You don’t know where your sister is, do you?”

Billy grimaced, shaking his head.  “I can’t fit through the vents,” he admitted.  “Wo—would you ki…” he grimaced, and swallowed.

“We can look for your sister while helping him,” Steve said, and Billy nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little.  Steve grabbed his hand—the whole one, so as not to hurt him—and pulled him along, and Billy laughed, smiling sidelong over at him whenever they came to a stop.  When Steve pushed him into cover to avoid one of the ceiling-clinging splicers, Billy pulled him close, sliding his hands up and under Steve’s shirt, another new sensation.  Billy’s skin under his fingertips was yet one more.  

 It felt odd, but good, chasing something that he was clumsy at, that didn’t fall into place.  Even as Steve slid his fingers into Billy’s sweat-warm hair, he couldn’t help thinking that everyone seemed to know who he was.  The doctor had waited for him.  The new voice on the radio called him by name, and Billy had asked for his help as soon as he came down in the bathysphere.  

The sounds of splicers screaming and bombs detonating sank into a comforting hum in the background, and Steve had missed it, somehow.  The air smelled right, down here, he thought, where even the air in the lighthouse, unpolluted as yet by the smoke from the plane, had smelled empty and strange.

 They saved another little girl, Steve drawing the glowing stuff from her and grimacing down at his arm as she ran off and clambered into a vent.  The radio voice told him how to hook himself up to a machine in the wall, and Billy leaned around him, poking the controls.  

“There,” he said, sounding a little sad.  It was hard to read Billy, Steve thought, bending to kiss under his jaw.  “Now you can throw lightning,” Billy said, with his odd, crooked smile.

“...I won’t hurt you, you know,” Steve told him, taking a guess, and Billy’s eyes widened behind his mask.  

“...I’m sorry,” he said, but he wouldn’t explain.

 The other voice led them through more and more splicers, and finally Billy screamed as they were nearly overwhelmed, and rats poured from the walls, climbing and biting.  Billy drew Steve away, panting, as the horde of splicers screamed, eaten alive.  “I can’t do that very often,” he whispered against Steve’s shoulder, his mask knocked crooked against Steve’s head.  “I’ll end up like the rest of them.  And it’s no good against the big Daddies, not through that armor.”

Steve squeezed him tightly, and then retied his mask for him, gently tugging his hair free of the knot.

 When they found the labs, Billy found his sister, and Steve took the glow from her eyes.  She tagged along after them, holding both their hands, and when attacked, using the flamethrower Billy had found for her.

Her name was Max.

Steve was horrified by the labs,  bythe recordings of the scientists experimenting on the little girls—and on a little boy, too—though Billy grabbed him and pulled him from that room quickly, and Max set it on fire.

“You don’t want to see in there,” Billy told him, staring into Steve’s eyes, and running his thumb over Steve’s cheek.  “...there’s no fixing it anyway,” he added hoarsely, turning and kicking the wall, hard.  “Damn it,” he whispered.  

“Come on,” said Max, and Billy twined his fingers through Steve’s..

 The voice kept telling Steve to move on, to find the maker of the city, to get revenge, and Steve’s skin crawled with urgency even as he met Billy’s expressionless eyes behind the mask.  “...we’ll meet you at the bathysphere,” Billy said, watching Steve warily like Steve hadn’t proved himself, finding Billy’s sister.

The voice came on again, and Billy shoved Max behind him, his eyes on Steve, as the voice said, “Would you kindly hurry up, before the whole of Rapture floods,” and Steve shuddered.  

“Th-that’s safest,” Steve managed, watching Billy turn away and not look back.  It felt familiar again, cloyingly nostalgic, to follow the voice.  

He thought he’d seen tears dripping along Billy’s chin as he’d turned away, but it could have been sweat—or water, from the holes the splicers kept blowing in the walls.  

 Steve faced the maker of the city alone, his hands shaking as he tried to follow every directive the voice made, and still hear the man in front of him, speaking words.  When he left, trembling and bloodied, the voice told him where to go next—it didn’t even explain why, anymore, in an endless train of ‘Would you kindly’s, as Steve tried to tell it he was done, he wanted to find Billy, he wanted to go.  

When he finally found the voice, his head hurt.  Everything echoed, and the lights had halos, and he couldn’t think, his fingers twitching as his feet stumbled.  

He could hear rats.  The voice screamed and screamed, and then Billy was back.

“Shit,” he whispered, his fingers rough against Steve’s face.  “Harrington—Steve—can you—can you hear me?”

Steve nodded, grabbing him close and wondering wildly as his vision whirled whether it was Billy at all, or whether he’d lost his mind—but Billy smelled like Billy, like machine oil, and sweat, and the cheese snacks he carried to feed the rats that answered his call.  Unfamiliar, and good.

“The other girls are in the bathysphere,” Billy whispered, “—but I—” He laughed, shaking his head.  “I had to see if you were still...here.”

“The voice stopped,” Steve breathed into his shoulder.  “Was that you?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Billy said.

“...can I leave here?” Steve asked.  “I think I...belong here.”

“That’s horseshit,” Billy said.  “You may have come from here.  But you—you get to—decide.” He bit his lips.  “...I wish you’d come with us.”

“...I’ll come, then,” Steve said, kissing him and letting his fingers slide over the edges of the mask, curious.

Billy raised his hand, hesitated, and then reached back and untied it, lifting it away to show a stubbly, mustached face with black veins running up the left side and into his eye.  He smiled, then looked up to see Steve’s face, and Steve embraced him again, cupping Billy’s face and pressing their foreheads together.  

“...you’re the only thing here that doesn’t feel right,” Steve whispered, and Billy flinched, turning his head away to hide the black veins, but Steve pulled him back.  “It means I want you...all on my own,” he whispered, and Billy huffed a soft laugh, yanking Steve upright, and hauled him along to the bathysphere.  

It was just as well.  The route to the bathysphere was just as nostalgic, and the controls came to Steve like he’d been born with them in his hands, while the girls and Billy shouted, pressed to the window.

“Get us out of here,” Billy called back.  “Thank god you can drive this thing.”

Steve took them to the surface, and they watched the bathysphere sink.  He counted the children, found they were all there, and took a deep breath into Billy’s hair.  

The air smelled new.

The other Harringrove April prompts I’ve done

[reneeofthestars]

At What Cost

A D&D short story

*       *       *

Another fissure split the stone wall to the left, sand spilling into the vast chamber. The slanted slate floor had disappeared completely as sand burst from the crumbling walls of the temple, cascading towards the center of the chamber, where it tumbled into a yawing pit.

Malnissa spat out sand and pulled her bandana over her mouth and nose as she stumbled again. Coarse grains rubbed against her skin, caught in the folds of her dark clothes and held beneath her studded armor. It was taking all her concentration not to be swept away, but her limbs moved like lead. The fight with the scorpion construct had exhausted her, and there’d been no time to rest.

She tried to call out, but the rushing sand was so loud, she could barely hear herself think. Three of her companions had galloped past on the sand striders they’d stolen. None of them bothered to stop their mechanical horses and help her. She cursed them, then cursed again as she lost her footing. She scrambled to right herself, briefly touching the rapier at her hip.

Her bag and bow could be replaced. But the rapier – with the open eye on its pommel – was irreplaceable. A burning bush had given it to her. She hadn’t thought anything of it until the weapon started speaking in her mind, calling itself Watcher.  

Of course, the rapier itself might not be necessary anymore.

She could barely make out the archway across the chamber that indicated the exit. There was still one hallway after this door – or was it two? She couldn’t remember. Ahead of her, a dark, flailing shape caught her eye. Dug. The scrawny half-orc was making as much progress as she was. So, their companions had abandoned both of them. She would remember that. If she made it out of here alive, that is.

One of the remaining pillars was a little ways off, and Malnissa struggled towards it. If she could just reach it, she could rest for a minute, come up with a plan. Her vision blurred as she lurched through the rushing sand, her muscles ached. It may have taken minutes, or seconds – all Malnissa knew was the moment her hands hit stone, and her fingers dug into the grooves of the carved pillar.

Gasping, she hauled herself to the side of the structure, so the cascading sand pushed her into the stone. It was the only thing keeping her from being sent tumbling into the abyss. Why there was a pit in the middle of a chamber, Malnissa didn’t want to know.

Dug’s green skin stood out against the yellow sand, still trying to high-step to the exit. Malnissa’s gut twisted as she saw just how far the archway still was. Her legs burned with exhaustion, and the sand was still tumbling from ever-growing fissures in the walls. There was no way she could make it.

Well… no way she could make it alone.

She felt the rapier at her side, its weight a reminder, an offer. She’d already called on him once today, and wasn’t sure if he’d appreciate being bothered a second time; she still wasn’t quite sure what being fiend-pact involved.

But Malnissa was desperate.

“Any bright ideas?” she spat, directing her attention inward.

There was a moment of silence, then a voice spoke. It was the strangest feeling; it sparked in her mind like a lit coal, and her mind felt crowded. I do have an idea, yes, it said. The voice was less friendly than when he had called himself Watcher, but he had no reason to deceive her anymore. He was K’dol; a pit fiend, a powerful entity of the Nine Hells. At least, that’s what he’d told her, right before she agreed to give him part of her soul and to act as a vessel, in exchange for his power and protection. He’d proved useful time and again; so far, it was a fair exchange.

I can get us out. But I used most of my strength to fight the scorpion guardian of the temple. I need to draw more power.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

I need you to secure the power I need.

“Okay, sure, good!” Malnissa yelped as she almost lost her grip on the pillar. “What do I do?”

Kill the one called Dug.

Malnissa froze, her feet almost swept out from under her. “What?”

He is useless. He will not make it out of this temple, no matter what happens. We may as well use his death to our advantage.

Malnissa held on to the pillar as she watched Dug flounder in the sand ahead of her.

You are an assassin. Consider this another job.

Yes, she was an assassin. But the blundering half-orc hadn’t wronged her. In fact, he’d proved quite useful in numerous situations. And he was the only one who knew of her pact with K’dol. Malnissa didn’t have many morals, but she drew the line on killing people she considered friends.

She gritted her teeth. “No. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll figure out something myself.”

Hm. Interesting. Something in K’dol’s voice made her hair stand on end. He sounded… displeased.

Malnissa took a deep breath, eyeing the distance between herself and the next pillar, wondering if she could tie a rope to an arrow, then shoot –

Unfortunately, K’dol hissed, I am not willing to be trapped down here for the next thousand years waiting for the next adventurer to find your corpse.

Suddenly her mind split with fire, a searing presence forcing its way into her consciousness, she felt herself being pushed aside, she lost her grip on the pillar, everything went white –

Then there was darkness.

  K’dol awoke again.

This time, though, he felt drained. Taking control used an absurd amount of energy. Or perhaps it was the half-elf that was exhausted; she was being pushed to her physical limits in this place.  He had already controlled her once today, with her permission, to help slay the temple guardian. Taking possession by force – though his will was far stronger than the mortal’s – had drained him even further.

Now, there was no choice. Dug must die.

Buffeted on all sides by sand, K’dol hauled himself – Malnissa’s body, but it was his, for now – a bit higher onto the pillar. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he whistled; a shrill, piercing sound, muffled by the sand.

The moments ticked by, and K’dol began to wonder if any remained, when a stand strider finally trotted into view. The horse-like construct easily crossed the terrain, halting beside him. K’dol mounted it easily and took the reins, and the cascading sand no longer bothered him. The construct galloped forward, and K’dol drew the rapier. It had served as an adequate vessel, but Malnissa served better.

Dug must have sensed him coming. He twisted around, his thin face screwed in concentration. His beady eyes travelled from the rapier in K’dol’s hand to his face. Almost drowned out by the sound of falling sand, Dug uttered a knowing, “Oh.” before K’dol plunged the blade into his chest.

Immediately, the half-orc’s lifeforce snapped out of his body, and K’dol seized it, drawing it in as it crackled through his essence, invigorating him. It was a fraction of the power he could possess, but it would do for now.

He withdrew the rapier, the blade stained with blood. Dug’s lifeless body keeled over, immediately swallowed by the sand and swept away into the pit.

K’dol raised a hand to his head, adjusting the hood, and bumped against two small horns protruding from the skull. Malnissa kept them hidden beneath the cowl, but they had grown. It felt as though they mimicked his own horns – when he was in his true form, that is.

He smirked. She had been so willing to accept his offer. It had been clear from the beginning that she had no experience with the arcane, or with anything beyond this plane. Malnissa had no idea of the power he was capable of. And K’dol had every intention of using that to his advantage.

K’dol took the reins and swung the sand strider’s head around. He couldn’t maintain control of his host indefinitely, but he had a little while left, and he was interested in one of her companions. The warlock seemed keen to invoke old powers, and K’dol had some old friends among the Elemental Lords that would pay dearly to have a living host. He intended to offer the warlock an introduction. And if he refused, K’dol would simply take his lifeforce.

K’dol had waited long enough. It was time to begin putting his plan into motion.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

57 Pings

The prompt from anonymous was this:

From the prompt list!! Can I get #51 w/Cayde-6 x female hunter reader? I don’t see any Destiny stories on ur page but it look like u mentioned it!🙏🏻

Cayde-6 x Female Hunter!Reader

Warnings: fighting and non-descriptive mentions of dying

1,698 words

“He is pinging us, again.”

You banked your sparrow against the Exodus Black debris sending up a spray of sand and dirt as your ghost spoke in your ear. Your cloak whipped around you, slapping against your helmet once, making you feel even more aggravated than you did 10 seconds before it happened. Usually you weren’t so sloppy or reckless on your sparrow, but according to the 57 pings from your Vanguard, time was of the essence.

“Open the communication channel.”

Static briefly filled your helmet before it turned to voices. The first full statement directed to you came from a cheery, robotic voice you recognized with ease, “Captain! Welcome back! The Cayde-6 is once again in grave danger, are you here to provide assistance?” Glitching static turned into a disappointed, dreary version of the robotic voice, “Somebody needs to put out the fire he’s caused.”

“Yes, I’m here to help the dumbass. Where is Cayde-6, Failsafe? Is he still in the Glade of Echoes?”

“Why yes, I am, and I do not appreciate the tone or derogatory comment on my intelligence.” Cayde replied himself and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. A pack of Fallen fired on you as your sparrow flew by them, but you just hunkered down onto your seat and sped up.

Nessus scenery was a blur of red and white around you as you finally reached an open portion of the terrain where you could really open up the engine. Failsafe, both her cheery and depressed side, rattled off another comment this time directed at the Exo himself.

“Just know this, Vanguard.” You interrupted whatever he was replying to Failsafe to speak up, “If the Vex and Fallen don’t kill you, I will.”

“Oof. Vanguard? You’re really upset at me aren’t, you? Did I interrupt something important? Were you—”

You groaned, “Shouldn’t you be shooting and not talking?”

“I’m a very good multi-tasker.”

You took another sharp turn and the sound of gunfire and yelling filled the air. The Glade of Echoes was not your favorite spot to visit on Nessus even on a normal day. It was a mess of metal wreckage where Vex and Fallen liked to wage war against one another, and there was just enough tunnels and coverage spots that made fighting back a giant pain in the ass.

A large Vex minotaur stood in an alley opening firing toward a half-broken billboard relentlessly while a smaller pack of Vex goblins fired at a pack of Fallen that were also shooting at the billboard. Something told you that’s where you’d find a certain, impossible Exo.

You drove your sparrow straight into their warpath and leaped off last minute. The sparrow tumbled into the goblins while you slid under the Minotaur, between its legs, tossing up a grenade at it at the same time. Shots were fired at you, you didn’t even know who from, but you ducked and rolled toward the billboard. The grenade went off, throwing the minotaur off balance, and you took this opportunity to climb up the wreckage and dive behind the cover it provided.

“Well howdy, Guardian.”

Cayde-6 was crouched down in front of you. His back was pressed against the wall and his hand cannon, Ace of Spades, was held up in front of him ready to fire when needed. His signature cloak’s hood was pulled up as per usual but none of the hood hid the smug look on his blue, metallic face.

You dismissed your helmet, letting strands of your [hair color] hair fall into your face. Cayde’s glowing blue eyes were trained on you and his jaw flashed yellow as he spoke, “Welcome to the party.”

“How did you manage to make every living thing in the vicinity angry at you?”

“Hmm, good question.” He held a finger up and motioned it toward you, “Why are you angry at me? That might help me figure out an answer.”

You pulled out your own hand cannon and Cayde’s eyes darted to it before landing back on you. Quickly, you made sure it was fully loaded and Cayde mimicked your actions. This wasn’t the first time the two of you were up against a crowd of angry enemies who wanted you dead. As Hunters, working as a team didn’t come naturally to either of you granted. It took years before you found a fireteam you trusted or worked well with. Cayde-6, though? Working with him was never difficult. Interacting with him was effortless, and you’d done it enough now that much talk wasn’t needed.

Your Vanguard gave you a look, and you returned it with one of your own. His eyes lit up with amusement as you brought your helmet back into place. Cayde nodded once, and then the two of you went to work. In a flurry of gunfire and solar energy, the two of you took out Vex and Fallen alike one by one.  Their numbers dwindled down to only a handful.

You fired your last shot, blowing a particularly annoying Fallen away, and then backtracked away from the corpse while reloading your weapon. As you turned, you watched as Cayde threw out his knife, taking out a Vex, and fired the Ace of Spades point blank into the face of a Fallen that leapt toward him.

One Vex crept out from behind a lump of broken metal and snuck up behind Cayde. You hadn’t finished reloading but gave up on it to grab your knife in your opposite hand. Without hesitation you lunged forward and buried it into the back of its head at the same time that Cayde spun around with his gun up.

The barrel was aimed at your head for only a second or two before Cayde grabbed the cloth of your cloak wrapped around your neck, yanking you towards him. He kept his grip tight on you as you stumbled into his chest and then he fired two shots towards enemies behind you. You glanced over your shoulder in time to see the last two Vex fall to the ground in sparks.

“Captain! The two of you did amazing! Thanks to you, the area is clear.” Failsafe spoke over the comm channel in her typical flip-flopping ways, “Granted, it was your fault the area was flooded with enemies anyways.”

Your shoulders relaxed and you put your hand cannon back into its holster. It was only then that you realized Cayde still had one hand tangled in your cloak, and now his other hand twitched at his side as his gaze didn’t waver from your helmet.

“Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?” Cayde said in a tone that held amusement and something you didn’t quite recognize.

You dismissed your helmet again, gave him a soft smile, and replied, “No.”

His blue eyes blinked in shock, and you took his confusion as an opening to untangle yourself from him. Cayde rubbed the back of his neck, the confusion still evident on his features, “Well, either I’m bad at reading a room or you just ruined a perfectly romantic moment.”

“Romantic moment?” You scoffed, “Cayde, you’ve ignored me for nearly a month now and suddenly just call me up out of the blue to save your ass on Nessus randomly??”

You shook your head and brushed past him to leave the area. Maybe you’d stop by and see Failsafe in person before taking off entirely. That thought was interrupted as Cayde caught up to you with ease, “So that’s why you’re upset at me, huh?”

It was silly to be upset at this situation which was why you tried to avoid thinking about it the past month. There was too much going on in your life, and the universe, for you to worry yourself on the Hunter Vanguard dodging your messages and calls.

Cayde whipped around to stand in front of you, forcing you to come to a screeching halt, “Hold on, hold on.”

“What?” You crossed your armored arms over your chest tightly and twisted your lips in annoyance and embarrassment.

“Yes, I did sort of ignore you for a month and that is on me.” Cayde spoke with his hands, “But in my defense I was… thinking about something.”

You scoffed, “Oh, you were? Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too badly.”

You tried to push around him again, but Cayde side stepped easily and stopped you. This time he kept his hands on your shoulders as he spoke, “You said we should hang out more.”

That was accurate. On one of your last missions together, before the silent treatment, you suggested that the two of you should spend more time together. It came from an after-mission buzz of confidence. Things had gone very well, the two of you walked away with some great loot, and the words slipped out before you even really knew what you were asking. Cayde had nodded in response, went his own way, and then hadn’t talked to you until today when he sent a random message asking for back up on Nessus.

“Cayde-”

“I want to hang out more.” He said quickly. For the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, you saw hesitance on his face. Cayde-6 was a lot of things, but hesitant was not one. He tore his gaze away briefly before settling it back on you, “Sorry it took me some time to work through it and figure it out.”

Your own features softened and Cayde squeezed your shoulders with both hands. With a sigh, you lifted one of your hands to set on top of one of his, “When I said hang out more, I meant like get a drink. Notpiss off every Vex and Fallen in a 2-mile radius.”

Cayde shrugged and shifted so his hands on your shoulders turned to one of his arms hanging off it. You responded by putting your own arm around his waist as the two of you continued walking through the now abandoned Glade of Echoes, “Who says we can’t do both?”

[ericsonclan]

My Maiden Rose

Summary: Minnie and Renata enjoy some time together when something happens that leads them to take the next step forward in their relationship.

Word Count: 1000+

Read on AO3:

The sun was slowly crawling up from its hiding spot behind the hills. The birds were happily chirping in their nests while the living dead groaned and roamed around the lands outside the kingdom. But none of that seemed to matter at this moment. All that mattered to Minnie was the warmth of her bed and the serene bliss of having Renata in her arms.

Her arms wrapped further around her love, slowly pulling her in closer to her. Renata’s gentle teapot-like snores continued on as her hand remained intertwined with Minnie’s. The redhead looked at her love safely sleeping in her arms. The sight made her heart flutter. To think that she’d find someone like this after the world had fallen to the living dead. Someone who cared for and deeply loved her.

Minnie rested her head on the pillow once more, letting herself enjoy the joys of cuddling with Renata when suddenly her love shifted around in her arms. Soon Renata’s face was mere inches from Minnie’s. That fact made the red-headed knight blush lightly as her heart skipped a beat. Every so gently Minnie lifted her hand and tucked back a stray strand of Renata’s hair, careful not to wake her while doing so.

But it seemed she had failed when Renata hummed happily before her eyes fluttered open. She gave a sleepy yawn then smiled lovingly at Minnie. “Morning, Min,” Renata leaned forward and softly kissed the tip on Minnie’s nose.

“Morning, Ren,” Minnie returned the smile and the romantic gesture. The two laughed together for a few seconds before Renata wrapped her arms around Minnie and snuggled in closer, her legs slowly intertwining with the redhead’s.

“Mmmmm, I declare today a cuddle day,” Renata’s breath tickled Minnie’s ear, causing her to shiver slightly.

“As much as I’d love to, I have training soon,” Minnie pulled back and could see the sad pout on her love’s face. “But afterwards we could go horseback riding together.” The knight’s suggestion made an excited, joyful smile appear on Renata’s lips. She nodded then proceeded to plant kiss after kiss on Minnie’s face.

Minnie giggled at all the small, romantic gestures before she wrapped Renata tighter in her arms and captured her lips in a loving tender kiss. Renata’s hand traveled up and wrapped around the back on Minnie’s head, deepening the kiss. It wasn’t until they needed to pull away for air that the kiss ended. Minnie gave a smile then shuffled further under the covers with Renata still in her arms. “We can cuddle for a little longer though,”

“I’d like that,” Renata gave a happy, content sigh as she nuzzled closer to her love, hoping that the minutes would last longer than they could.

Minnie gave her all in the sparring match against Sophie. Their wooden swords clashed loudly against each other as both tried to get the upper hand in the match. With Minnie’s overwhelming offense and Sophie’s fairly balanced style of fighting it made all their matches close. Sophie sidestepped and lunged forward with an attack that she figured Minnie couldn’t defend against. She was soon proven wrong though and had set herself up for a potentially fatal mistake. Minnie’s training sword knocked Sophie’s out of her hand, sending it flying through the air and landing on the grass behind them.

“Well, my dear twin, it seems that we are all tied up again.” Sophie smiled and collapsed onto the grass. Minnie soon joined her, taking in a deep breath before responding.

“Seems so,” Minnie’s eyes turned skyward for a moment and looked up at the lazy clouds in the sky. She wished she could spend the rest of the day relaxing and watching clouds. Even if she only had a few hours of free time now before her evening chores. That’s when the knight remembered her plans with Renata. “Shit!” Minnie jumped up onto her feet.

“What? What’s wrong?” Sophie looked up with concern.

“I forgot I had plans with Ren. Was distracted by training and other stuff and-” Minnie stopped her sentence when she heard Sophie’s laughter.

“What's so funny?” Minnie frowned over at her twin.

“Nothing, nothing. It's just funny to see you this frantic about being maybe a few minutes late to plans with Renata.” Sophie had a teasing smile on her face.

“Oh, like you aren’t the same way with Marlon,” Minnie’s smile grew when she saw she was right on the money.

“Hey, this isn’t about me,” Sophie  hopped up to her feet. “Are you two just going around the kingdom or outside the walls?”

“Inside the kingdom. Can’t risk getting into a fight with some of the living dead or deal with any other bullshit that happens outside this place.” Minnie shook her head. Over the years there had been far too many close calls as is.

“Sounds like a good plan to me!” Sophie smiled and patted her sister’s back before walking away. After a few paces, however, she stopped and glanced back at Minnie. “Probably should change out of those clothes though. You sorta smell.”

Minnie frowned at her twin’s words before lifting up her shirt to see if Sophie’s words were true. After a few sniffs her frown deepened. “Damn it.” The redheaded knight turned to leave and prepare for her plans with her love.

It took a few minutes to get changed and dressed in her armor and find Renata who had been sent all around the castle to deliver different messages and such. The knight had run around nearly half of the castle before she spotted Renata. Her love smiled brightly at her when she spotted Minnie and ran over. Minnie, getting caught up in her emotions as well, wrapped her arms around Renata and spun her around. After putting Renata down, Minnie shared a kiss with her love that turned into many before they pulled away.

“Ready for a romantic horse ride through the streets of the kingdom?” Minnie asked as she walked hand in hand with Renata.

“Yep, I can’t wait!” The jester rested her head on the knight’s shoulder for a minute as they walked along before reaching the stables. Minnie prepared Nightshade while Renata prepared one of the kingdom’s appaloosa horses. Soon they were set, both of them riding side by side as they journeyed the kingdom’s streets.

Every now and then they’d reach out and hold each other’s hands before a citizen or obstacle got in the way and their hands separated. They talked happily about this and that, how their days were going and what chores and other tasks were still left to do. Renata motioned for her horse to trot close beside Minnie’s and with a bit of maneuvering she stole a kiss from the knight, making her blush lightly. Renata laughed and smiled playfully. She always loved how easily she could fluster her knight.

“So I was thinking that a trip to the royal gardens would be nice,” Minnie began to speak of the plan just as they were passing the southwest section of the walls.

“That sounds fun, sitting by the roses making flower crowns. Let’s do it tomorrow!” Renata smiled excitedly at her love who gave a soft chuckle.

“I’ll see if I can trade some chores with Marlon and Brody, but I’m sure I can make it happen.” Minnie had a soft expression on her face that soon faltered when she noticed that a section of the wall was crumbling. Why had this not been reported and taken care of? Had any of the living dead gotten in? Just as those thoughts entered her mind she spotted two walkers lazily stumbling forward and trying to grasp at Renata.

“Ren, watch out!” The knight moved to unsheathe her blade while Renata guided her steed away. With a heavy slash Minnie sliced the living dead’s skull diagonally in half, its brain matter and lifeblood slipping down its face and dripping onto the ground. Redirecting Nightshade she harshly cut off the other walker’s hands before embedding her sword through its mouth. With a grunt Minnie sliced upwards, decimating the member of the living dead’s brain and life.

“Min, to your left!” Renata warned. The knight tried to move in time but knew she couldn’t. The living dead’s withered, decaying arms reached out for the redheaded knight’s armor but soon stopped when a knife impaled its shallow skull. The creature crumbled to the ground and revealed that the court jester had been the one to end its miserable existence. Renata had a relieved expression on her face when she saw her love was unharmed but she soon turned her attention and knives to the three other members of the living dead that were struggling to get through the small opening in the wall.

With a flick of her wrist Renata ended another life, her knife finding the soft retina and exploding it before reaching the creature’s brain. Another toss proved fatal as the weapon cracked open the walker’s skull making the faint light in its milky white eyes fizzle out. Renata guided her horse back and sent the next blade flying through the air and landing right in between the eyes. The living dead’s groans hitched in its throat and it flopped lifeless to the ground.

One final decaying corpse hid behind it and roamed forward giving unearthly groans until Minnie dashed forward and pierced the thick skull, hitting its one weakness and cutting its shallow life short. The knight flicked the blood and brain matter off her blade then sheathed it once more. Guiding her horse over, she went to check on Renata. “Renata, are you okay? None of the living dead reached you, did they?” Minnie reached out her hand and gently cupped her love’s face before examining her for any bites.

Renata shook her head then rested her hand on top of Minnie’s and leaned into the touch. “I’m okay, Min. You didn’t get bit either, right?” Renata’s eyes wandered around Minnie’s armor, looking for any potential signs of injury.

“No, I’m alright, but we should inform the guards of this breach in the wall,”

Renata nodded in agreement to Minnie’s suggestion and so Minnie stayed to guard the wall while Renata went to inform the guards. During those few minutes the knight’s mind wandered. She had chosen a ride inside the kingdom to keep Renata safe and yet the living dead still threatened to take her love away. Nowhere was ever truly safe in this world now that the living dead had risen. Minnie knew this and learned it time and time again. After all this wasn’t the first time walkers had gotten into the kingdom.

The knight’s hands began to slightly tremble. She didn’t want to lose Renata. The love she felt for her was so deep, so grounding that she feared what would happen if she lost her. Minnie quickly shook those thoughts away. No, she would protect Renata and they would have a future together. The thought shifted her train of thought, a sort of realization washing over her in that very moment.

She wanted to marry Renata. Start the journey into spending the rest of their lives together. The thought quickly consumed her mind and quickly turned into a future plan that she would eventually act on. She wished to propose to her love as soon as possible. A few moments later some guards came to take post at the broken section of the wall until builders showed up. As Minnie rode away, her mind continued to form a plan. First thing was first - she needed a ring.

Minnie strode forward down the corridor of the castle. Her heart pounded with nervousness and excitement for the plan as her hands grew sweaty. She would go to the royal blacksmith to ask them to craft a ring. Minnie knew that she wanted to ask Mitch for his help, especially since he had crafted that beautiful ring for Brody. She knew he wouldn’t let the secret slip for the proposal nor did Minnie believe Brody would let the others know if Mitch happened to tell her.

Sophie, however, was a different story. She loved her twin sister dearly but she also knew that Sophie couldn’t keep that sort of secret especially when it involved her best friend. So Minnie would simply avoid her sister for the next few days while the ring was forged and then after the proposal she would let her know. With the plan set, Minnie entered the blacksmith shop and was immediately greeted by Willy.

“Hey, Minnie!” The aspiring knight smiled warmly. “Did you come here because you broke a sword or shield?”

“No, I’m actually here to see Mitch,” Minnie replied simply as she began to fidget with her fingers.

“That's new. “Mitch’s voice appeared further into the smithy. “Why would you need to talk to me?”

“Well…. It's something serious and private, so,” Minnie glanced over at Willy. Mitch seemed to pick up on the signal well enough.

“Hey, Willy, Dad wanted to see if there were any good deals on iron recently. Run down to the eastern district and check.”

“Aww, but I wanna hear what Minnie was going to say,” Willy frowned and scraped his foot against the floor.

“Just fucking do it! I’ll help you work on that new sword if you go now,”

Willy didn’t have to hear that offer twice and quickly scampered off. After he was well out of earshot Mitch looked over at the knight.

“So, what the hell is so important?” The blacksmith leaned against the edge of the table.

“I’m going to propose to Ren,”

Minnie’s declaration made Mitch nearly lose his balance. “Holy shit, popping the question! Good for you. So, what does that have to do-” Mitch stopped his own question, his mind finally catching up. “Alright, I can make the ring, but you owe me.” Mitch tried to hide it but his eyes shone with excitement that he was finally making another ring. He really enjoyed the process and what the rings symbolized.

After a few minutes of discussing the design, Minnie left to go to the training yard. The redheaded knight couldn’t stop smiling once she left the smithy. Her heart practically felt like it was soaring in anticipation for the finished product. Perhaps it was a good thing she had training in a few minutes; she could use it as a way to burn off this excited energy.

Renata hummed a happy tune as she strolled down the castle corridor. She was going to do it. She was going to propose to Minnie. That small breach by the southwestern wall yesterday had opened her eyes and made her realize that she didn’t want to wait any longer. She wanted a forever future with Minnie.

Renata had a determined glint in her eyes, prepared to go all out to show Minnie just how deep and never ending her love was. But first things first: she needed to get a ring and what better place to go than the royal smithy. She knew she couldn’t ask Mitch since he was married to Brody. He was bound to slip up and spill the beans about Renata’s plans and since Brody and Minnie were best friends, word would get to Minnie quickly and the surprise of the proposal would disappear.

Nor could she tell Sophie. She loved her best friend with her whole heart but she knew that Sophie couldn’t keep a secret like that from her sister. So she would just have to dodge Sophie for the next few days before the proposal. Once the ring was set then she could bring Sophie and the others into her master proposal plan.

Renata had decided to go to the master blacksmith and ask him for assistance. Luckily for the court jester she spotted Tripp almost immediately as he was walking forward from the forge with a brand new sword. The friendly giant of a man smiled warmly at the unexpected company. “Renata, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hiya, Tripp! I came here today on a top secret mission,” Renata leaned forward and motioned for Tripp to crouch down so she could whisper the secret. Tripp played along with a smile and leaned over so that the jester could fill him in on the top secret information.

“I’m planning on proposing to Minnie,”

Renata’s whispered words made Tripp’s eyes grow large as the sword slipped from his hand and clattered onto the ground. “Oh, shit my nuts!” Tripp exclaimed rather loudly then grew quiet for a moment before remembering that his two sons were out of the smithy. “Renata, that’s amazing! I’m super happy! You two kids seem great for each other.”

“Aww thanks,” Renata rubbed a finger under her nose and gave a happy grin.

“So I’m guessing my part in this top secret love mission is to make the ring?” Tripp picked up the sword and placed it on the table.

“Yep! I’d pay for the ring of course!” Renata reassured the master blacksmith but he causally waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m making an exception for this one. Now what kind of design were you thinking?”

Tripp’s question made Renata’s smile grow and soon the pair were brainstorming design ideas. Renata could feel her excitement practically radiating off her body. She couldn’t wait for the next few days to pass so she could have the ring and finally propose to her love.

Sophie tapped her finger against her chin while her head rested in her hands. Her blue eyes stared blankly at the wall of the knight’s equipment room. Renata and Minnie had both been acting weird these last couple days. Minnie had been avoiding interactions like the plague with everyone at the castle but especially with Sophie. She always seemed to be on edge and would often frantically write this or that on a slip of paper before tucking it away. Meanwhile Renata had called for a raincheck on their friendship picnic the other day, promising to do two more in a week’s time. None of it made any sense. No one’s birthdays were any time soon so she wouldn’t be busy with that.

Sophie shook her head. It had all started when they came back from that small breach at the wall when they had gone horseback riding together. Both of them seemed a bit shaken by it but considering the hell that they’d had to endure over the years this seemed like an event that would trigger them sure, but not to this level. Sophie leaned back in her chair; she was starting to get really worried. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed when her love entered the room with some beverages and bread.

“Soph, I brought you a snack,” Marlon sat down beside her and saw that her mind was too caught up in her thoughts. Slowly he took her hands in his and placed a soft kiss on them. “Everything okay?’ he asked while rubbing soft circles on the top of her hands.

“Minnie and Ren have been acting odd lately. Like really odd,” Sophie looked over and saw that Marlon had picked on this as well.

“Yeah, they have been acting strange. Maybe that breach reminded them too much of the day that we lost Pete and Omid.”

“Maybe, I wish they’d just tell us if that's the case,” Sophie looked down at her feet and kicked them anxiously. Marlon was about to speak up once more when suddenly the door opened and in strolled Renata with a scroll.

“Hello, my good friends! I-” The jester paused when she saw their expressions. “What's wrong?”

“Why don’t you tell us? You’ve been acting weird.” Sophie crossed her arms.

“Oh, that.” Renata placed down the scroll and rummaged around in her pocket.

“Yes, that! Renata, if you're struggling you should tell us.” Sophie looked at her best friend with worried eyes.

“Don’t worry, Soph. It’s not what you think. In fact, I think you’ll be shocked when you see this!” Renata pulled out a beautiful wedding ring with a simple, elegant stone in the middle. The intricate details complimented the stone on the ring. Marlon and Sophie stared at the ring in disbelief.

“Holy shit!” Marlon stood up so abruptly that he knocked over his chair.

“Renata! Holy fuck, are you proposing to Minnie?!?! I’m so happy! We’re going to be sister-in-laws and-”

Renata put her hand over Sophie’s mouth. “I know, I’m super excited too but we gotta keep it down so Minnie doesn’t find out!”

Sophie’s eyes grew large and she started saying a bunch of stuff that sounded like a garbled mess due to Renata covering her mouth.

After a minute Renata removed her hand. “So, anyway I have the ring and the perfect plan,” Renata held up the scroll and displayed it proudly before opening it up. There on the scroll was a detailed plan marked with where each knight would be and what flowers to get as well as a song for some reason.“So, here’s the plan. I’m going to ask Minnie if I can walk her to the training courtyard where all the knights will be waiting on their steeds. When we arrive you’ll all ride forward in formation before zigzagging across from each other then trotting around me and Minnie. That's where the flower baskets come in,” Renata pointed at the scroll. “Brody, Sophie and Marlon will toss the flowers while I propose then if-” Renata took a deep breath, “When Minnie says yes then you’ll sing this song. So, pretty romantic huh?”

“Yeah,” Marlon’s voice was rough from the emotions of all this.

Sophie wasn’t doing much better beside him, using her shirt to wipe her eyes of happy tears. “We’ll get the other knights on board.”

“I can get Lou and some others too.” Marlon added with a smile.

Renata was practically beaming. This would work. She was going to propose to the love of her life. The woman that she had been blessed to find even though the world had fallen to the living dead.

The next day soon arrived and Renata could feel all her anxiety bubbling to the surface. She felt super antsy but in a good way. In just a little while she would be engaged to her love. That thought propelled her forward as she gave a few quick knocks on Minnie’s bedroom door. She heard something fall over and Minnie frantically swearing.

“Fuck...shit… ummm… who is it?”

“It’s me, Renata.” Renata swayed back and forth on her feet. There was some scurrying in the room followed by more crashing sounds before Minnie threw open the door.

“Hi,” The knight’s voice cracked. She frowned and cleared her throat. “Hi,” She leaned forward and stole a kiss from Renata. The jester smiled and pulled Minnie in for a kiss then another, then another. She was panicking slightly and for some reason her mind had thought kissing would calm her down. It didn’t really but it made her heart flutter happily.

“So,” Minnie had a happy smile on her face, “What are you doing here?”

“I thought it would be nice if I walked you to the training yard today,” Renata tucked her hands behind her back and gave a loving smile.

“Shit, well, I don’t have training today,” Minnie awkwardly scratched the back of her head. “But we could go to the royal gardens. Sit there for a bit, talk, maybe kiss some more,” Minnie gave a smile over to Renata. Surprise flickered in Renata’s eyes for a moment. That was odd. Minnie should have training today. She had it every day. Renata thought for a moment; her whole plan hinged on the fact that they would walk to the training yard together. She would have to make some excuse to get them there.

“Okay, sure. We can go to the royal gardens, but I need to deliver a message to someone at the training yard first.”

“Oh, okay,” Minnie looked upset by that for some reason but her expression soon changed to a loving one. Her hand intertwined with Renata’s. “Real quick though and then to the flower gardens.”

Renata nodded and happily began to walk with her love.

Minnie looked over towards Renata. She felt sick, like at any moment her heart would explode. In her right pocket was the ring Mitch had helped make for Renata. As she walked down the halls with Renata she kept going over the speech in her mind again and again. Every single thing and moment had to be perfect. Every. Single. Moment.

She would take Renata to the royal gardens and there she would play a song on her lute. Tell Renata how deeply she loved her and how she wanted to spend forever with her and... Minnie could feel her head spinning and she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. This message that Renata had to deliver could wait, right?

“Renata, could we actually stop by the royal gardens first?” Minnie stopped walking and her grip on her love’s hand tightened slightly.

Renata glanced over then looked towards the training yard. “It will be really quick,” She kissed Minnie’s cheek then pulled her forward. Minnie continued to try and come up with some valid excuse to go to the royal gardens first but nothing was working. When Renata was set on something she never let it go.

After a few minutes they arrived at the training yard where, to Minnie’s surprise, the knights were all standing in formation. Beside them stood Louis along with Prisha, Aasim and Ruby. Tripp and his family were here as well. Just what the hell was going on? Why were Louis and Sophie crying so much?

“Okay, so the message I have to deliver needs to take place riiiiiiiight here,” Renata stopped in the center of the yard. Her hands began to shake a little bit which made Minnie look over in concern but her love had the same cheerful smile she always had on her face.

Marlon gave the signal and slowly the knights trotted forward, beginning to try and cross in front of one another one at a time. It wasn’t going so smoothly. Brody ran into Sophie which slowed down Violet and it was momentary chaos but soon the knights were guiding their horses to trot around Minnie and Renata in a circle.

“Minnie,” Renata took both of her love’s hands in her own. “The message that I have to deliver today is for you. From the moment I met you in the throne room during that feast the late king-” Renata paused. Some of the flowers that the knights were throwing were getting caught in her mouth. The court jester coughed and spat out the flower petals. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were truly unforgettable. The way your eyes shone, how beautiful your hair looked, how chivalrous you were. I knew I needed to get to know you.

As I did my heart immediately fell for you: the gentle warmth you have, the kindness and bravery. Everything I learned about you just made me fall deeper and deeper and then I got up the nerve to ask you out and that… didn’t go great at first but soon after you said yes. I felt so much happiness from the news that I was sure I couldn’t possibly be any happier. But I was proven wrong because each day with you filled me with so much joy.” Renata smiled at Minnie with such deep love that it made the redheaded knight’s heart pound wildly and tears well up in her eyes.

“Minnie, I adore you and I want to be with you, today, tomorrow and forever.” Renata got down on one knee and held out the ring. “I promise to always love you and stay by your side. To give you the same care and happiness you give me. So, will you marry me?”

Minnie’s breath hitched and tears were slowly slipping down her face. She couldn’t believe it. Renata had just proposed to her. Her love had proposed to her on the same day she was planning to propose. That thought snapped Minnie back into reality.

“Renata, I can’t believe this. I was planning to propose to you today too.” The knight’s word made her love’s eyes widen in surprise. “That's why I wanted to go to the royal garden to propose and play a song for you, but I’ll just do it here.” Minnie took a deep breath, her mind trying to recall her speech.

“Renata, when you entered my life and showed interest in me, I wasn’t sure whether you were serious or not. Because I just couldn’t comprehend someone like you, so warm and caring, loving and forgiving, would fall for someone like me. But soon I realized you were serious and once I let myself be optimistic about us and gave it a chance I knew it was the best decision I ever made.

Every day with you makes me feel beyond lucky, makes me want to strive to be better and to show you the love and warmth that you give me each day. So I promise to always support you and protect you, to be there every day and cherish each moment with you.” Minnie got on her knee and held out a ring with an intricate design that showcased the bright and stunning stone in the middle. “Renata, my sun and joy, my beautiful maiden rose. Will you marry me?”

“Are you kidding? Yes! Yes! Yes!” Renata had tears in her eyes as she tackled Minnie in a hug then pulled back so they could each place the ring on the other’s finger. Renata looked at her love then cupped her face, kissing her passionately.

Minnie deepened the kiss before pulling back and laughing at the overwhelming amount of flowers that were surrounding them and had fallen on top of them. But they didn’t seem to mind at all as they kissed and kissed again. Their hearts filled with pure bliss at the fact that the other wanted to spend the rest of their life with them. In that moment everything was perfect. Come what may, they would have each other. There to love and support one another and to walk side by side together through whatever life brought their way.

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 10: Ch 5

Previous 

Summary: Significant changes have occurred while she was unconscious. One of them includes the imprisonment of Syco. Part 10 deals with the unnamed Space Explorer’s reconciliation.

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Shiitakee and I came barging back into the ship’s command center panting and sweating from cutting what was supposed to take fifteen minutes from the basement to the center by walking to a forth by running. My running companion is gripping the door frame as he tries to catch his breath. Between breaths, he mumbles how he needs to cut back on smoking as I include myself into the meeting at hand, which continues to proceed even with our unexpected, loud arrival. I take my position at Saamuki’s right. She and several Tauvoxes, high-ranking ones, including the lieutenant, of course, are looking down at the large holographic three-dimensional layout of what I can only guess is Commander Knox’s spaceship. One of the rooms, a big one, is missing. So, there’s a giant hole in the middle of the illustration. I don’t get the chance to guess what it is because when Saamuki points at it, she figures it out for me. 

“That must be where the ship’s crystal is, but why isn’t its room showing up?”

One of the Tauvoxes, who I’ve only seen one other time, which was when Syco carried the three of us back on the ship, speaks up after saluting her. “Pardon me, Commander Saamuki, but is it really wise to stage an assault on Commander Knox? They outnumber us one to ten million and most of them are our own.”

I only caught a glimpse of him the last time I saw him. Now that he’s standing to my left, I can see his brown fur has sprinkles of white and grey. His body type is similar to the others in that he is muscular and about double either mine or Saamuki’s heights, but he’s wider. His stomach is protruding. There’s a scar over his left eye, and a small metal pole has replaced the bottom half of his right leg. The captain, as I soon learn his rank, truly fits the physical description of a pirate. 

“Captain, if it comes to that, we just have to give it our all. That being said, our best option should be having a small group sneaking onto the ship and assassinating Knox while he’s busy conquering that planet. Rescue the others as well, but finding Shiitakee should be our priority.”

“Then, I volunteer to go, Commander Saamuki,” the lieutenant offered. He saluted when Saamuki made eye contact with him.  

“No. We can’t afford to bring any Tauvox with us. This mission requires stealth. Besides, you’ve proven you can keep this entire ship from blowing up.”

“That would put you at four hours if Commander Knox defeats Commander Zel in the time I calculated, which my calculations are never wrong.” This Tauvox standing right across from Saamuki would look like any other Tauvox, but his fur is longer than the rest. He tied the ones on his head into a ponytail, which looks like a wolf’s tail because of its aged appearance. He gets out a screen and tosses it towards us. Once it’s right above the replica of the enemy ship, it changes into three shapes. One is a large ball and the second is a dot slowly inching towards the larger shape. The third is a clock that shows how much time we have left. We’re at eleven hours, twenty minutes, and thirty seconds. “With such limited time, Commander Saamuki, if none of us can join you in such an imperative mission, one that will decide the fate of the entire Universe, who could possibly qualify then?” 

All these men had their eyes on her. As someone who was once a sex worker and one who still looks like one, even with her conservative outfit, the look of these men isn’t of lust. They are hungry, yes, but not for a taste of Saamuki. Instead, those eyes hungered for answers and hope, hope for their commander to make the right decision.  

The fate of quadrillions is in the hands of us—a snake possessed by some nonbinary ghost, a mushroom with a smoking addiction, and a human with a magical crown. They flew towards Commander Knox’s spaceship using Saamuki’s much smaller spaceship. Her Tauvoxes are following not too far away. Commander Knox had apparently defeated Commander Zel an hour earlier than predicted, which got a rise out of the ponytailed Tauvox. While the three of us didn’t show how anxious we are, I could feel it in the room. Shiitakee and I stayed silent. While piloting her ship Saamuki mentioned how we’re finally getting the others back, but I didn’t vocalize my excitement.

I didn’t vocalize anything because I was far from excited, even if I’ve been longing for this moment. I just sat and watched the stars fly past us, looking like lines because of how fast this tiny ship was going, with the outfit I copied from my dream using my crown. I did look at Saamuki, though. Without words, we shared something, and that was acknowledging our contingency plan. If we failed, then one of us would need to stay behind while the others escaped. The one that does would have to detonate Knox’s crystal. That would instantly kill everyone in a hundred-mile radius. Not even an overpowered Watcher could survive such an explosion, which would mean the one that would stay behind wouldn’t either. Hopefully, that doesn’t happen. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. 

Quadrant Eighty-Five. The planet is called Vecta. It’s the same as I remember it. Its moons light up the night sky, this rocky landscape, and its light glints around the edges of those ahead, on the other side of this boulder. I can see Tauvoxes, Virmuses, and other alien species fighting on Knox’s side. No signs of Skeema, Ashley, Mikrovos, or even Khavas. They clash against the Talten’s blazing weapons and the weapons of the other figures. I spot a red-painted symbol, which is glowing, on one of the wrists of the Talten’s allies. Not only may Licata be part of the fight but Sakhra too. Saamuki doesn’t know who she is, of course, but I can see she realizes the same thing I do in the case of her long-time rock friend. She turns to us with fiery blue eyes. “We have a mission. We can worry about the fight later. Come on you two while everyone is busy fighting each other.”

Saamuki, with a blaster far more superior than the ones we used in the beginning, is the one in front leading us to Knox’s ship that’s about a yard away. I’m in the middle with my dagger in one hand and my own blaster in the other. It’s just as strong as the one in her grip. Before we separated from her Tauvoxes, I watched her test them. They went through five walls of what’s been her ship for about two days now. It nearly took off an inch of the Tauvox in one of the rooms she shot through. Luckily he dodged just in time, or he would’ve joined Apulsion in the afterlife. Shiitakee is last in case he needs to omit one of his gases and is empty-handed. What he can do with that cap compensates for his lack of weaponry. 

With every step we took to bring us closer to the spaceship ahead, the louder the battle to our left became even though they continued to be well far away from us. Screams are heard as well as curses to Knox’s followers. Hundreds of blasters are going off, probably from the Virmuses, but only a Talten is heard collapsing from the shots. Horns, those from Tauvoxes, rip through flesh, and screams follow suit, but Knox’s side isn’t in complete control of the battle. I smelt flesh being burned. Some of the Taltens set a few Tauvoxes, which howled to the night sky, on fire. Sakhra’s group is pulling their weight in the fight, hitting the opposing side with their symbols.

In the corner of my eye, Sakhra’s group slaughters hundreds on Knox’s side. I can’t even imagine how many have been killed. The battlefield must be covered in bodies, blood, and whatever insects are on this planet. While over here, it sounds brutal enough; the fight taking place above our heads doesn’t seem too merciless either. Several factions of Space Pirates are shooting at each other. Thousands are probably fighting outside of their ships, fighting out in space. There must be hundreds of corpses floating out in outer space now. 

One of the ships catches my eyes. Banners stretch over their sides. Those long strips of cloth have the symbol of the Lords, which means one of the battalions has joined the fight. This must be their last stand against Commander Knox, but Saamuki’s Tauvoxes aren’t taking part in it. Knox would know we’re here if they were, but the lieutenant is in command of the ship if they’re spotted. 

Saamuki activated her screen, which has the layout of the ship. She took a moment to study it, and then she motions for it to vanish. “Shiitakee, this will take a bit. Watch out backs and,” she turns to me then continues with, “Make sure both of your weapons are at the ready in case there’s someone on the other side.” With that, she held down her blaster’s trigger, causing it to become a blowtorch. Sparks flew, and the metal groaned as its being forced to tear. I held my weapons even tighter as she got closer to finishing. When the piece finally gave way, we were thankfully not greeted by someone pointing their blaster at our heads but instead a four-sided hole the right size for each of us to easily slide into and enter a dimly lit room with flickering lights and some crates. The room must be for storage. Our leader’s eyes are fully engulfed in blue. Then, as quickly as they swallowed the rest of her eyes, they went back to just filling her pupils. 

“I didn’t see anyone in the room. So, let’s go.”

We stepped inside. The room is far more expansive than what it looked like on the outside. It’s about the size of the library, but a lot colder. Someone set the air conditioner to the max, it seems. I’m shivering even with this armor. Shiitakee is too, but not Saamuki. She has her supernatural powers to thank for that. 

For such a big room, there isn’t much in here. We walk past a few crates as tall as Shiitakee. “Those boxes are giving me the creeps. Please, can we walk a bit faster? They’re weirding me out and I’ve been friends with Syco for years.”

Saamuki jokingly remarks, “I’ve known Cabelo all my life and I have to tell you Syco has nothing on Cabelo.” 

“Cabelo? That guy that owns that whole sex hotel? That Cabelo?” She nods. “I knew you looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure since you’re you know wearing that whole get up. Never heard that you had the whole blue thing going on until, well, we met, but it’s really cool. I wish I could do what you can. I would’ve shot Syco a long time ago.”

She giggles. “I haven’t always been able to shoot fire out of my hands. My powers are recent. It has some ups and downs too.” She shrugs.

“You got to tell me the story behind it, especially how you and her met. A human. Wow. I mean Syco already told me a long time ago, but I’d still love to hear it from you two. Also, about your friends that are on this ship. Who’s Mikrovos? Syco complained about him plenty.”

I felt the tension emanating from Saamuki. She is facing away from me, but I just know the mention of Mikrovos made her uncomfortable. Her vibe is making me uncomfortable, but Shiitakee hasn’t noticed. Our backstories must’ve distracted him from his worries, but I get a terrible feeling. So, I slide the dagger underneath my breastplate, grab Saamuki’s hand, and bolt towards the door. Shiitakee follows suit but asks what’s happening while he’s trying to catch up with us. Saamuki is questioning too. Both are answered when a hand to my left smashes through its wooden container. We’ve run past it, and I try not to look back around, but it’s Shiitakee’s cursing that gets me then Saamuki to glance back. An oozy, hairless, and eyeless body goes splat onto the metal floor. Their mouth opens, or what is supposed to be one does, as strands of skin have stuck parts of their lips together. They struggle to make a noise. They muster out a groan and begin crawling towards us. Their slime spreads around them and trails behind them as they slither closer to us. When we’re right about to exit through the door, they reach their hand towards us. I turn back around and force myself, with Saamuki still holding onto me, to sprint the distance left. Once the two of us then Shiitakee finally escape, I get out my blaster and shoot the door’s control panel. Whatever it is won’t be reaching us anytime soon. 

As the three of us try catching out breaths, Shiitakee comments, “Thanks for almost leaving me back there. A little warning next time, don’t you think, but what the hell was even that? Saamuki, I thought you said you didn’t see anyone in that room?”

“I-I didn’t. It must not have a soul.” I’m hit with another sense. I look away from them. My grip on Saamuki tightens. I’m standing stiff. “What’s wrong,” she asked me.

I respond to her, “Her.” On the other side of the hallway is a red-headed figure. Unlike the last time I saw her, she’s been fitted with gauntlets that stretch to her elbows. Like before, her eyes are dead.

“Who’s she?” Shiitakee finally looks to where Saamuki and I are looking. 

“Ashely,” I told him. 

[sarcasmfics]

Silver & Steel

Part 1 of a 6-chapter series

Summary: He calls himself the White Wolf. Three deadly strangers, have taken over the inn at a small village, demanding to see their reclusive mage. Hellbent on revenge, they use the villagers to force the mage to come out, but will he? Or will he stay in his tower and leave the villagers to the strangers? Collette finds herself running from the blonde stranger, his howls following her through the woods until she stumbles into a small camp where a white-haired witcher and his loquacious and dramatic companion rest. Will he listen to her pleas to save her village from the silver-armed invader and his companions? Or will they perish at the cost of their revenge?

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Chapter 1:

The forest was silent save for the pounding of her feet on the hard earth, breaking the fallen twigs along the well-worn path. Would he follow it? Would she even be able to make her way silently through the forest if she abandoned the familiar way? Somewhere behind her, somewhere too close, a branch snapped. Could she hide? Collette veered off the path and into the trees, flinching as an errant branch caught her cheek, another her arm. She could hear the river now, and knew she was close. If she could get across the river, perhaps she could hide in the forest there; it was more rocky and filled with better hiding spots she knew from her childhood games.

The burning in her lungs forced her to stop, leaning against a large tree to catch her breath. Her heart beat in her ears and she doubled over gasping for breath. But her rest was short lived. “I know you’re here.” He called out, “I can smell your fear, little one.” A branch crunched to her left, so she turned to the right and ran straight into a solid mass. She couldn’t hold back the scream as Rogers grasped her arm, keeping her upright. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, little one.” He was all condescension and she took off in the opposite direction. Now, it didn’t matter where she ran as long as she could get away.

Behind her, a long howl echoed through the forest.

She took off again, staggering and tripping, running blindly toward what she hoped was safety. Between the trees, the flicker of a campfire caught her attention and she turned, lungs burning as she neared it. There was another howl, this one closer, and she emerged into a small clearing before staggering to a sudden stop. The two figures who sat around the fire stood, one moving to demand an explanation when another howl sounded. He drew a sword and stepped around the fire, turning his gaze to the dark forest. The second man followed and ushered the girl away from the tree line.

The swordsman turned silently, eyes scanning the forest for any movement when he paused, his gaze narrowing just over her shoulder. There was a flash of movement and the swordsman pushed past and swung, his blade connecting with a wolf as it dove out of the darkness. It rolled to its feet and shook off the strike, though in the low light, its blood left a dark stain on its fair fur. It couldn’t be a real wolf; it stood nearly as tall as the swordsman, bright, blue eyes reflecting in the moonlight. Its growl echoed through the clearing as it watched the swordsman, baring its teeth. The swordsman tensed his hands on the hilt, the movement barely noticeable, but the wolf saw it and charged, forcing the swordsman back, but not for long as he swung, knocking the creature away.

The other man pulled her back, his arms holding her close as the swordsman battled. The swordsman struck one, two, three blows and the wolf staggered back, but before he could attack, the swordsman thrust his blade through the wolf’s throat. With a grunt, he pulled the sword back and the wolf fell before shuddering for a moment only for its huge body to shrink. There, on the ground, lay a man, naked and bloody and lifeless. “Fucking lycanthrope.” The swordsman grunted, wiping his brow as he surveyed the tree line once more. Satisfied with the silence, he turned back to the fire and turned to the woman expectantly. “Well?”

But she was frozen, staring at the corpse only feet away. The young man slowly turned her to face the swordsman, encouraging her to sit and drink from a bottle he offered. She sat, though she kept glancing back at the corpse. “Don’t worry. He’s dead.”

“What was that thing? Or should I say who?” The young man turned toward the swordsman, taking the bottle back to drink deeply.

“Lycanthrope.” The swordsman replied with a sneer. “Why was it chasing you?”

She shivered as he fixed his gaze on her; his bright golden eyes glowed in the firelight, as if gazing into her very soul. “I don’t know. He was part of a group that came into my village. He followed me into the forest. I don’t know why.”

“Why were you in the forest so late?”

“I needed herbs. My brother has a fever that won’t break and it’s our last hope.”

The young man spoke up. “There’s more than one?” She nodded.

“There were two others in his group. I don’t know if they’re all… like him, but something is off with them. They’ve taken over the inn and – and one of them is making people do strange things!” The young man offered her the bottle again and she accepted, wiping at her eyes.

“Making people do things?” The swordsman asked and she nodded. “What do they want?”

“They demanded to see our mage. They stand outside the tower and shout for him to come down, but he never does.” The swordsman hummed, staring into the fire as one hand rubbed the stubble that began to grow across his cheek. “I need to get back! I need to get those herbs!”

“Just wait one moment,” the younger man said, resting his hand on her arm. “Geralt? What is it?”

Geralt, the swordsman, shut his eyes, a quiet fuck leaving his lips before standing. “Describe them.”

“What?”

“Describe them. What do they look like?” She almost protested, her brother was ill! But the intensity of his gaze made her stop.

“Two men, one woman, though I’ve heard there’s a third man who stays hidden.” She said. “The man in charge, he’s got dark hair. They say he calls himself the White Wolf.” Geralt cursed again. “Why? You know them?”

“I know of them.”

“Geralt?” The young man asked, watching his companion stand. “Geralt are we helping her?”

“I don’t have much coin,” Collette offered, “But I have food, and a place to stay for as long as you like. We can mend your armor, feed your horse, whatever it is you need! If you can help, please!”

The swordsman sighed, pushing the hair from his face, earning an eye-roll from the young man. “Of course we’ll help you.” The young man replied, ignoring the glare from the swordsman. “I’m Jaskier. This is Geralt of Rivia, the only White Wolf.”

“Collette,” She replied. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t found you.”

“We’re always glad to help a damsel in need.” Jaskier replied with a small, yet dramatic bow which Collette found foolish, though in a strangely charming way.

“These are Ly- what?” She asked and Geralt nodded.

“Lycanthropes.” He replied. “Humans who can turn into a wolf. You said they attacked the village?” Collette nodded. “Tell me what happened.”

“That man, the White Wolf, showed up with two others demanding to speak to our mage.” Collette began.

***

There was a chill in the air that morning and Collette pulled her wrap closer around her shoulders as she hurried through the village. She was late, but her brother had been sick for most of the night and she knew Mr. Rye would understand. But as she hurried into the bakery, a hush fell over the room. What normally was a bustling shop froze and Collette turned, watching as three figures appeared in the street, two men and one woman. The man in the middle seemed to be in charge, as he stood slightly ahead of the others. A sword hung at his side, the hilt peeking out from beneath a long, black cloak. Thick, leather armor covered his chest. His dark brown hair was half-tied back with a leather strap which only highlighted his high cheekbones and defined jaw. His gait alone demanded respect, if not submission. He was clearly a warrior, one men would fear to face on the battlefield.

To his right, a woman with bright, red hair braided down her back walked with her hand resting on her sword. She wore no cloak, but her thick, brown leather armor covered her torso and matching leather bracers surrounded her forearms. On her opposite hip, a smaller sheath was tucked into her belt holding a dagger. Danger seemed to emanate from every part of her; she was every bit the predator. The other man on his left also had a sword, but a shield rested on his back. With a neatly trimmed beard of dirty-blond hair, he appeared the rugged one of the trio. With sure steps, his broad shoulders showed his strength and confidence. Each observed their surroundings with frightening precision. Collette was frozen in the doorway as a pair of icy blue eyes met hers. Time seemed to pause for a moment as the leader turned, his plump lips curving into a sly grin. It was over within seconds, but the chill he’d given her lasted as she tucked into the bakery.

The other villagers who stopped by each had their own tale of the newcomers, some saying they’d been in the tavern, others that they’d been to the apothecary. But no matter who spoke, they all said the same thing: there was something about them, something just off enough to make their hair stand on end. By the time the sun was setting, Collette joined Mr. Rye as he closed for the evening and the two made their way down the main road. As always, they’d walk until the center of town and part ways, but as they approached, the sound of raised voices made them pause. Sharing a glance, they followed the noise until they reached the true center of town.

The mage’s tower was the center point for all business in the village; the stone tower rose a story above all other buildings though no door could be seen. The few windows were near the top of the tower and always shrouded in darkness. The newcomers stood before the tower, the leader glaring up at the highest window as if he was watching the mage, but the single window remained dark. The blond man argued with one of the shopkeepers, roughly shoving him back apparently unhappy with what he’d said. The dark-haired man grinned, then turned back to his companions and with a nod, they left. The villagers fell silent, watching in shock as they disappeared down the main road.

Collette hurried home.

The following day, the trio returned. They took their vigil outside of the mage’s tower once more and Collette paused as she passed. The red haired woman met her gaze, eyes analyzing her every move before turning away, finding her unimportant. But the brown-haired man remained staring up at the tower ignoring the goings on around him. The mage rarely came down from his tower, and on the rare occasion, only for emergencies. His groceries were paid for, the coins left on the small, wooden table beside the tower’s base. The grocer would leave the food in the evening, and it would be gone in the morning. The village didn’t know him too well, but when crops had failed from a strange frost he became a shadow in the night, disappearing into the fields. Although some crops had been lost, enough was salvageable to feed everyone and trade with the other villages. When an illness spread through the village one winter, he silently made his way from house to house, healing the incapacitated without a word. So they accepted his tower, and they lived in peace.

The trio returned for nearly two days after that.

There was a shout and Collette froze, watching as the blond struck the grocer, sending him to the ground. The brunet called out: “Mage! I know you’re there! I can smell you, you bastard!” But there was no response.

The red haired woman turned to the brunet. “Coward won’t even come down from his tower.” The brunet scoffed and nodded. After sharing a quiet word, they turned and disappeared down the street. The bakery was busy once more, though the gossip was more frightening than the previous days. Apparently, the trio had taken rooms at the inn. It seemed that they’d taken over entirely, the brunet making a throne of sorts in the tavern below. The innkeeper accepted their coin, but sent the female staff home as the group’s leering became worse. By the week’s end, only the innkeeper remained at his establishment.

“He calls himself The White Wolf,” the innkeeper said, stepping into the bakery one morning. “Bastard sits on his throne playing with a knife and drinking my damn ale as his cronies scare away my customers.”

The innkeeper reluctantly departed and returned to his business, fresh bread in hand. He grimaced as he entered, quickly making his way into the back with the fresh bread. The White Wolf, as he declared himself, sat in the largest chair, set back against the wall so he could watch the comings and goings. His group had changed the whole room; the tables and chairs were all rearranged as if they were holding their own court. The leader reclined on his chair while to right was the blonde, eyes surveying constantly. To his left, the woman lounged in a slightly smaller chair, her boots kicked up on the table as she cleaned her nails with a dagger. Movement on the stairs caught her attention and she shifted her bright, green gaze to the figure descending. “Hawk?”

“He’s there.” The new man said, swiping back an errant strand of sandy hair. “I saw his shadow no more than an hour ago.” The White Wolf hummed, scratching his beard.

“And he hasn’t come out?” Hawk shook his head. “The villagers left him groceries last night.”

“They disappeared shortly after they were dropped off.” The sandy-haired man crossed his arms, glancing back at the innkeeper as he returned to work behind the counter.

“He’s a damn coward.” The Wolf spat. “Talia?” The red-head twirled her dagger before sliding it back into the sheath in her boot. “Why don’t you work your… magic?” Talia grinned, her lips turning into a sharp point, and stalked out of the tavern.

She strolled down the street, her hips swaying as she took her time glancing at the villagers as they passed. They gave her a wide berth; even two men on horses moved out of the way, the animals had quickened their pace as she passed by. She was a predator, pure power. The village was small, but she walked the streets until she came across the perfect target. Leaning against the wall of the butcher’s shop, a young man dropped his head back, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he rested. Talia paused, assessing him, finding every weakness until she was satisfied. The man fell still, the prey inside of him recognizing the familiar sense of danger, and opened his eyes. It was as if she appeared before him, mirroring his posture: arms folded, hip jutting out to the side, hungry eyes sliding across every inch of him.

He followed her easily enough; she barely needed a glance to compel him much to the chagrin of the butcher. The Wolf looked pleased as she led him up into her room, shooting him a grin before disappearing, the man following dutifully behind her.

~~

Thank you so much for reading!! 

[scarletta-ec]

Original Sin Story: Re_Crime

CHAPTER FIVE: THE ESCAPE OF THE WITCH SALMHOFER

Scene 1

Meta dreams of running away from orange flames, and an endlessly black, warped figure standing among them, shining, dead eyes. She has to keep running— for she is a fugitive.

Scene 2

Meta is in a bad mood that morning— not just because of the dream, but because she’s being woken early by a pounding at her door and angry shouting. It’s Raisa Netsuma. She ends up busting in the door before Meta can get up.

Raisa has burn scars all over her body including her face, from Eve’s lightning strike earlier. She and her people are refugees from Jakoku, and she leads the White Army in the southwest of Levianta. She is also one of Apocalypse’s top brass. Meta worries deeply about her— she thinks she’s too passionate and too wild in battle for her own good. In person, Raisa spoke little, but in a fight she had earned the title of a fiend. It was Pale’s idea she join, hearing of her prowess, and Meta originally agreed because it added the entire White Army and the Second Regiment to their forces, coming to know her better as they lived together in Merrigod. 

Meta is distracted from Raisa's upset ranting by staring at her mouth scars, which are not covered with a mask like they usually are.

Raisa is visibly in pain since a lot of her facial muscles are stiff, and her skin sensitive, but is too upset to stop yelling. She hadn't even waited for Meta to get out of bed, having climbed onto it. Meta thinks her hair looks even whiter against her reddened skin.

Raisa says that their base in the north has fallen.

The security forces have become the Royal Capital Army, and are cracking down on Apocalypse— an organization which seeks to disrupt as much of the world’s order as it can, just because they think that’s how things should be, thinking things like laws and such are foolish. Meta is one such person.

She has tried hard to forget her past. She was an orphan, grew up alone, and hated everything in the world. Her life only gained meaning in her eyes after she turned twenty.

She wandered the streets of Levianta, living off of what she stole from vendors and unlocked homes. Whenever she was caught, she would always manage to charm them and be let off with a warning. She didn’t know it at the time, thinking it was because she was a pitiful child, but this had been a result of her Gilles Inheritor powers, which she had no idea how to use, manifesting without her direct control. 

She was sometimes allowed into homes and invited to stay as long as she liked, though she never did stay long. Watching the family dynamic around her somehow only made her even lonelier. So when people came to her with their arms open, she always chose to run.

One day, Meta found herself in the midst of chaos, with lots of bodies and fire and destruction around, but she did not run. Not even when she was surrounded by armed men, and one of them (Pale) approaches her with a knife in one hand and a person by the hair in the other. Recognizing her as a Ghoul Child and fellow HER, he offers her the knife, which she accepts.

With his encouragement, she kills the hostage with the knife.

This was her first murder. And she finally felt at home.

She and Pale have committed a great many crimes together at this point. Gammon is the new head of the senate, and is the reason why the royal capital army is pursuing them so fiercely. They’re having trouble fighting them off— in addition to their skill, neither Meta nor Raisa’s powers or magic can breach their bulky armor. They have to come up with a battle plan for here on out.

Meta zones back in and embraces Raisa in bed. When Raisa stops speaking, she lets go and orders Raisa to go retake the northern base, or at least stymie the soldiers there. She’ll send the rest of the former White Army and half of her Red Devotees to give her aid. Raisa, still teary, points out this’ll leave them short-handed to the west, but Meta says they should leave that to the “baron”, Yegor.

Raisa awkwardly runs off the bed. Meta gets dressed, and then thinks she’ll head over to see Pale, her “darling”.

Scene 3

Meta changes into her favorite clothes, and then goes to Pale’s room. She can hear him talking with a woman in there, and then sees a scantily clad Milky laying on the bedsheets, next to Pale who is under them, when she opens the door. Milky greets her politely, and then leaves to go to her own room. Meta goes inside to see Pale is smoking in bed.

He asks if she’s okay, and she shakes her head at the notion that she has anything against "that girl". No matter who Pale sleeps with or loves, she’ll love him still. And she believes he will always come back to her— her powers don’t work on him, so she is certain that they really do love each other.

She wryly asks if he's okay with Raisa, to which he says it's not his business.

Pale has a unique physiology. He has to absorb magical power from another person periodically, or else he’ll lose his youthfulness. His preferred way of doing this is by sleeping with them, with women, specifically. Meta’s magic is not enough alone to sustain him, great though it is. The other person’s magic replenishes once he's done, though the initial drain exhausts the person being fed on.

Meta notices a black box on the nightstand. It is a music box with a winding key that Pale is taking apart. Apparently he’s not very good at reassembling it, though he's disassembling it for the practice.

Meta tells Pale about their base falling, the two speculating that they might have a traitor in their ranks. 

Meta worries about Raisa— she's been rampaging worse than ever before. Meta thinks she may be taking out her anger on everyone, including the Royal Army, as the woman who might have been queen that she was trying to get revenge on (Eve) for her injuries is missing.

Pale asks if Meta is implying Raisa is the traitor, or a liability. Meta flusteredly jumps to her defense, insisting it must be someone else.

Pale decides to head north. His “older brother” told him to lay low, but Seth hasn’t contacted him in a long time— thus, they think he might be dead, in which case, there's no need to hide anymore. He tells Meta to go west, to enlist Yegor’s aid in suppressing the forest of Held.

Meta would like to go with him, but knows he wouldn’t like her to go against his wishes. They kiss and part ways.

Scene 4

Yegor is the baron, as suspected. He is cruel and brutal despite having once been the head of a religious temple, having already crushed the villages living in the forest’s eastern half by the time Meta arrives there. Though curiously enough, despite the buildings being in ruins, she can’t see any corpses around. She figures he must have cleaned up the corpses, wondering why for a moment. The place has a fog rolling over it.

Yegor is the “Black Baron”, his army is called “The Black Army”.

One of Meta’s devotees tells her they found some survivors. He takes her to an area before a trauben field to the west of the village. It’s a green haired woman, covered in blood and crouched down, cradling a half-conscious man with blue hair, surrounded by devotees. She’s crying about her missing children— Cecil and Vell.

Meta thinks she’s stupid, figuring that the woman should be grateful she’s alive, and that she can just make more children, that is, if Meta allows her to live. She’s about to order her men to kill the woman when she realizes her men have collapsed, foaming at the mouth. She realizes that the fog is actually poison.

Meta is almost as bewildered to find both she and the woman seem unaffected, noting she can't tell with the man in her arms as he was already out of it.

Meta hears Raisa's hoarse shrieking as the fog grows too thick to see anything. The couple seems to have vanished.

Meta is confused because Raisa shouldn't be here, meanwhile Raisa can only scream about "treason".

Raisa's words are slurring, indicating she may not be immune, protected from complete incapacitation only by her mask to cover her scars.

By the light of the moon, Meta sees figures approaching her from the fog, all wearing masks. They clasp one of her wrists in chains.

The meaningless shrieking crescendos as a sudden impact around her waist brings Meta to ground as a bright red flash explodes, and everything turns black.

Scene 5

Meta is in a dark, inhumane, cold jail cell. She tells the girl in front of the window that she wants a jacket or hot food or something, but no dice. It’s not mealtime yet and they have nothing else for her to put on. There are no men in this jail, so she can’t use her powers to escape.

Upon being asked, the girl introduces herself as Elluka Chirclatia (Zellana’s younger sister). She is a young looking teen. Meta threatens her, expecting her to cry, but Elluka calmly states that she’s more powerful than Meta is, and, in fact, now that her sister is gone, Elluka is the strongest person there.

She reveals Meta is not in an actual prison— she is in Lighwatch temple. Elluka is a virgin priestess there. This is a very special jail cell in the temple designed for someone of Meta’s magical talents. The walls and the ceiling are covered in anti-magic runes— meant to weaken and negate magical power or spells.

They hear footsteps, and Elluka declares it must be the head of the temple— in other words, Yegor Asayev, who has long black hair and thin, black facial hair. Meta accuses him of being the traitor— he claims that Apocalypse merely disappointed him. He abandoned his post believing them to be patriotic warriors, but defected when he realized they were just thugs. Meta accuses him of merely wanting to satisfy his cruel urges. Yegor doesn’t deny or confirm this— merely saying that unlike them, he wants to live a long life.

He tells her (and Yegor really does give the impression that he might enjoy making people suffer) that Pale has been captured, and is in Welvya prison. Raisa wasn't captured— but she was killed immediately after her attempt to protect Meta. That means that Apocalypse has essentially been beheaded.

Yegor isn't sure how Raisa managed to catch wind of his betrayal soon enough to arrive there at that time, and wonders if he may have a traitor of his own.

Yegor mocks Meta and Raisa a little more and tells her to wait for her execution like an adult. He claims to have been divinely pardoned for his crimes— Meta thinks it’s a mix of his family connections and his reward for selling out Apocalypse. He leaves.

Meta is nearly in tears, of both grief and rage. She's shaking in her seat, which rattles the chains.

Meanwhile poor Elluka has been watching this whole thing from the sidelines. She notes that while Meta is a bad person, so too is Yegor. Meta advises Elluka to leave this place as soon as she is able to. Elluka says she’ll think on it, and then leaves the room.

Scene 6

Meta is moved to a new room, similar to the old one except that there is a smooth white chair in the middle. The legs are affixed to the floor, and it has several leather straps on it. Meta figures this is the execution chair.

The executioner (who has his face covered) tells her to sit down, and she does. She tries to think of a way out of this, but the executioner tells her that her Gilles power won’t work on him— she quickly recognizes his voice as sounding like Pale. And when he takes off the cloth covering his face, she quickly realizes that it’s Seth (he was thinking of messing with her by pretending to be Pale, but decided not to at the last second).

Seth remarks that they haven’t seen each other since she tried to kill him at Merrigod (which he thinks Pale ordered her to do, though she denies it). Not that he holds any ill will for that. Pale has apparently been growing more and more rebellious towards Seth. He insists that he is not their enemy, even if he isn’t really on their side.

He says that he came here to help her. His plan is to have her “killed” to get her out of the capital— Gammon decided that all criminal corpses are to be taken to an installation outside of the city. Meta jokes that he’ll revive her as a zombie, to which Seth nods— seemingly to freak her out, as when she objects he goes into his real plan.

It skips their discussion of that. Seth reminds her that the condition for him saving her is that she participate in his experiments at his research facility, and hands her a glass bottle. There is a map to the facility rolled inside.

He starts affixing the straps to her arms, legs, stomach, and head. She asks if this’ll hurt— Seth says he wouldn’t know, as he’s never been executed before.

He throws the switch. She’s electrocuted, and then falls unconscious.

Scene 7

After the execution, Meta’s body is taken inside a casket to the installation as planned. Right after it leaves the temple, Yegor and the priestesses all say a prayer for her. A tearful Elluka is the only one who notices Yegor smiling a little as he makes his prayer.

Meta awakes in the coffin in the installation. She gets the lid open and climbs out, amazed that she’s alive. Seth regulated the electricity so that it would only temporarily disrupt her heart. She takes out the map, though of course has no intention of keeping her promise. She’s about to tear up the map when she sees a message in there from Seth.

He has Pale. And if she doesn’t show up, he’ll kill him. She runs across the cold stone to the institute.

Scene 8

Ever since Gammon’s coup, the twelve capitals have been in an uneasy governmental state. The 12 senators are supposed to be the heads of each family that governs the 12 cities— but Gammon has shuffled them all out, including his father. Fearing too much backlash, Gammon selected sons of the same families instead of getting new family lines altogether. Making the new senate SIGNIFICANTLY younger, in their twenties.

Gammon also made public the matter of Gavriil brainwashing the queen, promising to bring the senate back to something that serves the queen rather than using her. The prophecy of destruction also becomes common knowledge, and to help ease the unrest, Gammon appoints Seth in charge of a new Project Ma.

Seth is explaining this to Meta in the royal research institute. He has since hired on a great deal more researchers, though they are actually political informants, there to make sure she doesn’t run away. This is several months in— she’s already pregnant, and showing.

Meta asks if she’ll be made queen, but Seth says not this time (though she will get a higher status and various rewards). Apparently he had to do it this way because otherwise the Senate wouldn’t have given him permission to have her birth the Twins of God. They talk a bit about the politics of this a little. As a note, Seth marks the time of destruction as being “ten-odd” years away, so probably no more than a year has passed since Adam and Eve disappeared.

Seth says that Gammon isn’t like the other politicians, though— he faced the queen and came into contact with the “truth” though Seth doesn’t know what that was exactly, and as such he is legitimately desperate to avert the country’s destruction. This is part of why he accepted a criminal as the potential mother.

Since becoming pregnant Meta has been living hidden away in the institute. They don’t want the public to know that she’s the mother. She considers her situation a little, like that they might just kill her when they don’t need her anymore. She can reasonably assess that the government isn’t a monolith— Seth, whether ordered by Gammon or acting on his own, wouldn’t have had to go to such measures to break her out of jail if Yegor was in on the plan. So while Seth may promise to keep her safe, there’s no guarantee the others will. She also just doesn’t trust him.

She asks (as she has many times without being told yes) if she can see Pale. Today, Seth agrees. He explains that Pale had not been able to sustain himself without taking magic from people, and as such he wasn’t likely to live much longer— so he had him swap into a more sustainable body. He calls someone into the room, a boy. This is Pale.

Meta is really confused, so Pale explains. He is a Ghoul Child— an artificially created being, comparing it to Meta’s children, saying that they are different only in that his mother was a glass vessel instead of a human being. Meta has to agree with that, she was not impregnated by sex but by a procedure, after all. Ghoul Children were the fruits of Seth’s research on the Next Queen Project as Horus.

Pale notes that he started having the issue with needing magic once he became an adult, though he’s better off than the other Ghoul Child made alongside him, who was little more than an empty shell. They ended up transferring his soul from his degrading body into the empty shell to save him. However, it took some time, which is why Seth couldn’t have them meet until now.

Pale knew this from the beginning, and it is why he ordered Meta to try to kill Seth— he wanted to become the “true” one by killing the original. Meta is moved by sympathy for Pale and goes to hug him. Pale asks Seth if they can be alone for a little bit, and Seth agrees because he’s not a monster, come on.

After hugging a little while, Pale tells her they should escape together— he can live as he is now, so there’s no need for Seth to keep him alive. They can’t flee while Meta is pregnant, so he figures he’ll do something after the babies are born. He wants to restart Apocalypse with her, and Milky if they can afford to find her.

He’s living at Seth’s house right now, under the guise of being his nephew. Figuring the conversation is over, Seth enters to fetch Pale, taking him away. Meta sees Pale as nothing more than arms and legs connected to Seth’s fingers by thin strings.

Scene 9

Several months pass, and the babies are born. They are immediately put into a life support system. The “baby room” is in the institute, with the twins inside two large glass tubes, that run from halfway up the tower to the ground floor, full of fluid. Gammon is looking at them with Seth.

Like normal premature babies, Meta's babies weren’t able to breath well after being born, but they’ve recovered now, the tubes are a precaution. Gammon wants to have them taken to Alicegrad soon, so they can be made into the receptacles for Levia and Behemo’s souls.

Gammon explains that Alice herself will do this using the “Swap Technique”. He claims she is the only person in Levianta who knows how to do it, and that supposedly all of the queens through Levianta���s history have had this power. Their ability to receive revelations is, according to him, a result of temporarily allowing the gods’ spirits into their bodies.

Seth doesn’t let on that he already knows all about it, because he can do something similar.

Gammon has been wearing his hair differently, setting his ponytail low instead of high. He's been smiling more often, too.

Seth also thinks that this is all quite unlike Gammon, being much more knowledgeable than he would have thought. He thinks maybe someone has swapped their soul into his body. Whether Gammon is still in there or not is something Seth can't tell.

The day after next, Hansel and Gretel’s birth is told to the public, and the new Evillious calendar is made to mark their birth date.

Scene 10

Four days later, at night, Meta is looking at the babies and thinking to herself how cute they are, despite the fact that she never had an interest in kids before now. She’s not happy though that they aren’t her and Pale’s kids, she can’t even hold them, and that they’re going to be taken away to be used as vessels for gods tomorrow.

Looking upon them, it triggers memories of her past. Gretel’s eyes are open, and she is reaching for her mother inside the glass. Meta puts her hand over hers on the glass, and then has a flashback.

Scene 11

It’s her dream from the beginning of the chapter, running from orange flames with a figure in the middle. She has to keep running. When she glances back, she sees Seth Twiright.

Scene 12

Meta's reminiscing is interrupted. She can hear screaming, shouting, and gunshots. Realizing it’s Pale at work, she dives inside the tanks, taking the babies with her as she shatters the tubes. The remnants of Apocalypse are wreaking havoc. Pale calls to her from a window in the hallway, bidding her to leave the building through it.

He objects to her taking the children along, saying they’ll only get in the way, but she refuses to leave them behind. She realizes his current body is too small to run with babies in his arms, so she carries them both herself.

She thinks about her birth, her early childhood, that time she hated so much. Seth declared her a failure, and, fearing being put in refrigeration like her “brother”, escaped from him during the same attack Adam disappeared in. She knows it’s selfish, but she doesn’t want the babies to suffer as she has. She doesn’t want them to be the toys of gods.

Scene 13

Meta and Pale are running through a foggy new moon night. They think that they’re safe— but Pale suddenly trips and falls, starting to lose consciousness. Meta remembers what happened in the forest, and realizes the fog is the same poison as before.

Seth approaches (wearing a full-face mask), wondering why it’s not affecting her babies. He says the fog was a sort of byproduct of producing Venom— it won’t kill anyone, but they’ll be put to sleep for a few days. Seth already knew the fog likely wouldn't affect Meta, but he's certain the babies wouldn't be inheritors like her. He wonders if a god could be interfering.

Pale urges Meta to leave him behind and run south to escape the country— he knows Seth won’t kill him; Seth confirms, saying basically he’s too good at being evil to kill. Meta says she’ll wait for Pale in the forest, and runs off. Seth tries to follow her, but Pale grabs his leg and she gets away.

Seth kicks him to get him to let go. He won’t kill Pale, but he does plan to “reset” him.

Scene 14

Meta is running away, referencing the last part of the song.

Meta’s part ends in her declaring that she’s a fugitive.

[brachyurans]

tw3 moods, part 3

THE GWENT QUEST NEARS ITS CONCLUSION. zero cards left to be won from players of no renown. three cards left in skellige. then...then it is only the four cards left in novigrad: the fucking passiflora tournament

no i definitely did not spend my first three hours on skellige bopping around signposts to grab all the gwent cards before doing anything else

technically after this i also have to go get the skellige faction deck and other assorted cards from the dlcs but this is not in my Miraculous Book of Gwent so we shall not worry about it yet.

i love skellige and how much people in skellige respect Geralt and how nobody calls me a freak while im walking down the streets here. i also love how half the time voice actors can’t quite decide if they want to pronounce the final E in skellige or not.

finally cleared the skellige part of following the thread and got lambert’s card right before the karadin meeting. idk if they wanted us to believe jad actually changed but his voice actor is the most insincere-sounding motherfucker and anyways the whole Aiden business aside, you can’t make up for engaging in the slave trade by sending a polite letter and donating to local schools, fuck off. i probably wouldn’t have killed him myself (we were in his house, he had no armor and his kids were next door, i don’t like to kill in cold blood) but since lamby was willing to do it for me, well,,

i finally found my girlfriend !!! geralt loves yen so much, i love yen so much, i will literally implode, i’m so happy i got to run a heist with her making sarcastic comments and helping me not die of taxidermy-related hallucinations (sorry mousesack, i regret nothing)

geralt be running and scrambling and hauling himself up ledges while yennefer teleported across ten minutes ago and has been Waiting. shes so extra i love her

i can’t believe yen brought the unicorn all the way to fucking skellige. i mean i can because it’s yen but goddamn, woman, you do not travel light. i have been trying to figure out what yen finds erotic about the unicorn and i have yet to reach any conclusions. would she be interested in fucking on a stuffed horse? is it the unicorns/virginity thing? is it just proving that geralt loves her enough to do anything for her? if it’s the last one, yen, honey, peg him with your massive troll phallus or something, there is no need to haul a life-size unicorn across the fucking ocean

all that said im pausing on skellige for now to clean up the last of the velen/novigrad points of interest, grab the unmarked sidequests, dig up the last of the continental witcher gear diagrams, and finish out my contracts. this should also net me a few extra levels before i start tackling skellige monsters which will be Nice.

POIs are fun because i went all the way down the western coast of velen by midcopse cutting through lvl5 bandits and lvl4 drowners like wet paper and then hit a guarded treasure with a lvl28 hag out of nowhere and booked it the fuck away from there. are these high-level points of interest in with the low-level ones specifically to wreck the shit of overeager newbies?? what the fuck.

i let gaetan go. killing him is probably the more moral choice but i was underleveled for the quest and i don’t love combat in this game so i just didn’t want to fight him. whoops. also iunno, still feels bad to try and kill a guy in cold blood, ’specially when he just got pitchforked in the gut and is clearly at a disadvantage from pain.

while going to consult dijkstra about assassinations i found a male sex worker in the other side of the passiflora who ISN’T hacking his lungs out and geralt can’t even talk to him properly, all he says is “sod off.” i think this is extra homophobic.

i love sigismund dijkstra an unreasonable amount what the FUCK.

i also love dandelion, i would do anything dandelion asked of me, however absurd, including dressing up as a bandit and concealing my identity by putting a scarf over my mouth while doing nothing about like, the cat eyes, or the two swords. dandelion is a himbo.

i’ve done a lot of sidequests and so far i think my favorite has been Scavenger Hunt: Cat School Gear. kiyan is just. mm. his story is so fucked up on multiple levels and i love him. close second might be gaetan’s quest just because i like cat witchers.

best non-witcher sidequest so far was absolutely “shock therapy” wherein geralt is asked to “scare” a druid who ~suddenly became mute~ back into speaking. what does he do? proceed to just. annoy the everliving shit out of the poor druid. like, in no way is putting out the fire every time he lights it to try and warm up a form of shock therapy, that’s just being an asshole! also geralt’s surprised/guilty face when he realizes he got tricked into playing a practical joke on this man. geralt you dumb fuck i love you so much. you should have been suspicious the minute the guy offered you a gwent card rather than coin.

other really good sidequests include aeramas’ trial of the cheeses and “fool’s gold.” i haven't finished “reasons of state” yet but i suspect i’ll also really like that one because, well, dijkstra

i have all the enhanced cat gear and all the enhanced griffin gear and the cat gear is just, far superior aesthetically just by virtue of not being green. sad it gains sleeves when you upgrade it but i am a fan of the cowl and it will make me less chilled when we go to skellige. i wish it was black but we are far too low a level to touch beauclair yet. sad to let my goth imperialist look go but the nilfgaard set finally became underleveled u_u

i finally became sort of rich selling everything to novigrad smiths and then immediately hit a wall with crafting ingredients for potions. no longer can i cobble them together from stuff i picked in the forest and stripped from monster corpses. nooooo i need to buy alcohols and craft secondary ingredients. i am spending an obscene amount of money on cordials to make all the white gull i need.

solved my bomb problem by investing a skill point in becoming immune to bomb secondary effects. now i just need to learn how to aim for shit

[chille-tid-universe]

To Red Larch

The cool morning air was pierced by a hiss. Abu reared its head over the helpless Despacito, then recoiled as Uzza’s bare foot struck out at it. The snake directed its ire to the tiefling cleric, instead, before slithering back to the bedroll where Idu lay chuckling. Uzza felt her groggy annoyance bristle at the scrawny boy’s amusement. “Put a leash on that thing!” she warned, gathering the pet mouse in a hand as she began to break down her resting space.

Isolde looked up from her own packing, a serene look on her face, eyes not quite focusing on anything present. “Where would you put a leash? As Mielikki has said, snakes are all neck!” she intoned, nodded gently as if her misremembered scripture shone some amount of understanding on the conflict. Nearby, Oskar chuckled as he rose from his resting place.

Uzza shook her head and returned to folding her sheets, grumbling as she gathered her belongings, “He’s a wizard! Should be able to figure something out…”

Her bedroll tucked tightly, Isolde finished the buckles on her armor and lightly stepped through the camp to Robyn’s sleeping form. The paladin suppressed an exasperated sigh at the uncapped flask dangling from their leader’s grip, and gently nudged the half-elf in her ribs. To her credit, Robyn only blinked groggily for a second before her other hand whipped from under her pillow, dagger brandished at the intrusion, but still in its sheath. “Wha - oh, Isolde, didn’t realize it was you. Why are you up so early? And why are those leaves so loud?”

Isolde pursed her lips, tilting her head to listen to the symphony of the early day around them: the susurration of oak leaves up above them, the sweet melodies of songbirds already flitting about, the lapping voice of the nearby brook as it splashed over current-smoothed stones. Nothing loud, not to her. Everything was as it should - “Idu!” followed by the young boy’s open laughter. Except for the voices of their companions, somehow still unable to get along after their months together. Isolde sighed, wondering why they couldn’t learn from the synchronized harmony that surrounded them.

“It’s not early, Robyn, and I’ve already woken you once this morning.” Robyn gave a muffled response.

Across the camp, Charlot poked his head from the flap of a fine tent. “Could you all keep it down before breakfast is prepared? Some of us require our beauty sleep.”

Isolde smiled amicably at the cleric. “Beauty comes from nature, not from sleep.”

At this, Charlot looked the paladin up and down, glance lingering on the twigs entwined in her hair. “Well, that doesn’t mean we should all give up,” he sniffed, retreating within the tent. A second later, he cried out, “And don’t forget the mushrooms for breakfast!”

Nula and Robyn had walked to the nearby brook, planning to bring back fish to prepare for the group. Robyn unslung her bow from her back, knocking back a swig from her flask before nocking an arrow. The half-elf locked her gaze on a silvery shadow beneath the rippling surface before steadying her arm and pulling back, holding the feathering by the corner of her mouth for a heartbeat before loosing the arrow. There was a loud gulp from the water, and a split second later the fish floated to the surface - or rather, what was left of the fish. The arrow was caught in the exploded carcass of a fish, guts already being carried away by the current, bits of scale and fin spread out across the surface of the water. “Hm.”

“No luck, captain?” Nula called from upstream, splashing her way in bare feet to Robyn. The half-elf sighed and eyed her flask before glancing back at the half-orc. She was grinning from ear to ear and held one of her boots in her hands. It was dripping wet and appeared to be shaking, and as she approached Robyn realized there were two fish in the boot. Robyn grinned back.

As the two walked back into camp, pretending the two fish hooked on Nula’s fingers were the only ones they caught, Idu’s falcon familiar screeched and swooped over the busy bodies, dropping a dead rabbit at its owner’s feet. The youth beamed as he lifted it towards Robyn. “See? Archimicarus wanted to help, too!”

Isolde sniffed down her nose at the bloody corpse. “A falcon with a rabbit is worth two with a salad,” she intoned, turning on her heel and beginning a search for edible leaves. Idu’s eyes narrowed as his mind churned. Had he heard that one before? It didn’t sound quite right…

As Robyn lit their campfire and pulled her iron pot from her pack, Charlot’s head poked back out of his tent. “Mushrooms?” he asked hopefully, sniffing the air as the sizzling fish began to cook.

“Rabbit,” Robyn replied, nodding to where Nula sat skinning the beast. Charlot’s mouth tightened as his eyes rolled in their eyelined sockets, but a moment later he was out of the tent and offering Robyn some spices from his personal stash for the breakfast.

After the gang had begun to break their fast (Isolde having returned with a plate full of berries and roots) Robyn called for their attention. They were only a day’s journey from a little settlement called Red Larch, where Robyn had passed through before, and she felt it would be a good place to look for their next job. Without objections, the party finished their meal.

As they gathered their belongings, Isolde wandered to a nearby tree and wrapped her gauntleted arms around it, breathing in deeply and opening her mind to the nature around her. At the same time, Uzza and Charlot sat across from each other, legs crossed, eyes closed, Uzza clutching her holy symbol to her chest, Charlot toying with the shrunken skull he kept with him as he muttered beneath his breath. Their connections with their deities restored, the three grabbed their packs and followed after the group as it headed through the woods.

~~

They had only been traveling for an hour when Nula stopped them. Oskar began to ask what was wrong, but Robyn silenced him with a signal. Nula tilted her head for a moment, then pointed off the path to the right. “Footsteps. Hundred feet away,” she murmured, just loud enough for her voice to carry through the group. “Big.”

Robyn nodded and turned to Idu. “See what we’ve got. Let’s approach this ontomolaly.”

Idu was on the verge of asking what exactly she meant before he thought better of it and reached out with his mind to the circling form of Archimicarus high above. He took a deep breath, and then his eyes rolled up into his head. The falcon gave a shrill shriek and winged off to the right of the path. A couple moments later, Idu’s grunted and spoke, eyes still showing white, “Two ogres. Hundred feet off. Not expecting anything.” Robyn clapped him on the back and nodded to the rest of the group.

“Let’s go.”

~~

A few minutes of cautious travel later, Idu signaled a halt as they approached a rocky outcropping surrounding a clearing. Within, a pair of ogres sat, one trying to stack a pile of rocks, the other sifting through a small assortment of shoddily constructed weaponry. Robyn nodded to the rest, holding up three fingers, and counted down.

As their leader dropped her hand and pulled back an arrow, Charlot stepped forward and released his focused spell. A glowing bolt flew from outstretched fingers, soaring through the intervening air and grazing the tin bucket atop an ogre’s head. Charlot’s eyes narrowed in annoyance and the ogres looked up.

As the bolt burst upon the boulder behind the ogre, Oskar and Isolde darted forward, drawing within reach of the ogre before it could respond. Oskar held up his axe and brought it down on the ogre while Isolde stood behind the dwarf, reaching out easily with her halberd to rake at the ogre’s flesh.

As the two accosted the ogre, Robyn and Idu steadied themselves and unleashed a barrage of fire and arrows. Nula dashed forward for the second ogre, laughing heartily as her swords painted the ogre’s hide in a red mist. For her troubles, the ogre bellowed and dropped its heavy club on her head, sending the half-orc reeling. Uzza called out her name and chanted a few words, and lifeforce surged back into Nula, straightening her shoulders and restarting her laugh.

As Nula renewed her assault on the second ogre, Charlot widened his stance and flung a hand towards the first beast, mimicking the ringing of a bell. Immediately, a harsh clangor filled the clearing, and the ogre’s hands flew to its ears, its own howl adding to the din. Taking advantage of this, Oskar redoubled his attack, with Isolde sending a flurry of strikes to the ogre’s exposed front. Seeing an opening, Robyn steadied an arrow and loosed, breathing slowly as the shaft of wood found its mark, and a heavy thud filled the area as the ogre’s body fell, lifeless, to the rocky ground.

Meanwhile, Nula was darting in and out of reach of the second ogre’s tree trunk of a club. The half-orc cried out withering taunts as her blades left signature swirls in the thick hide, and as the ogre’s temper began to rise, Nula nimbly stepped back, dodging the blows as they fell. With a frustrated roar, the ogre overextended, stumbling a half-step in its wild attempt at retribution. Seeing her opportunity, Nula grinned and ducked beneath the thick arms, laughing garishly as she drove the point of her sword into the eye socket of the ogre, jumping back just in time as it crumpled around her.

As the group shared congratulations and Oskar parsed through the mostly-useless pile of weapons to find serviceable axes, Robyn caught her breath. “Alright, gang, short rest before we continue. Got a fair bit of ground to cover before we reach Red Larch. Don’t want to need to stop due to exhaustimication.”

~~

A little over an hour later, the band marched into the quaint village of Red Larch. The surrounding forest having been beaten back a couple hundred feet, the dozen or so buildings sat in quiet repose, as if saving energy for the eventual return of the encroaching wilderness.

Among the first few buildings they came upon was one attached to a small fenced-in yard, with a coop that seemed half the size of the house. A sign of admirable quality, but in need of a fresh coat of paint, proclaimed the establishment “Mandaver’s Poultry”. Robyn stepped up to the door and knocked politely, but it did not appear that Minthra was home. A few minutes later, a man in a leather apron from across the way approached them, watching with guarded eyes as he explained that Mini was not in at the moment.

Immediately alert to the scent of tannery fluids, Isolde cleared her throat. “Beware the road of the depraved,” she intoned, “for it is paved with the leathery skins of poor little animals.” The neighbor’s mouth drew taut as he eyed the branch-crown and flower-adorned armor of the paladin.

“Well, some of us need to make a living,” he replied tersely, turning to Robyn, who looked the most leaderly. “You can try for her at either the bars or the All Faith’s Shrine.” With a final look of annoyance in Isolde’s direction, the tanner turned on his heel and headed back to his home, behind which several racks of drying leather could be seen.

“Repent!” the paladin called out to his retreating back. “Repent, for nature will have its day in the sun!” Several members of the party hid snickering behind their hands, and the others withheld sighs.

~~

The gang decided to try the inns first. The Swinging Sword was the larger of the two, as one of the tallest buildings in the village, and much nicer. The Helm at High Sun was a dingy hall, with no upper levels for rooms, where frequently repaired stools and tables spoke of many a tumultuous night. Neither establishment could boast very many patrons at this hour, and Robyn was able to quickly determine that Mini was not at either location.

As they stepped outside of the Swinging Sword, a mouthwatering aroma wafted toward the group. Her memory triggered by the fresh scent, Robyn exclaimed, “Oh, that must be Loran’s bakery! She has the best buns. Positively the best odiferocity.” Stomachs rumbling, the band decided to take a short break from their search for lunch.

The source of the heavenly scent was a stout house with many windows, each opened wide and holding plates of steaming buns. Inside, the smell of fresh bread was almost overwhelming. Robyn called out, and a moment later a flour-coated woman with stoutness to match her house came bustling out of the kitchen into the foyer, reimagined as a storefront with wide tables holding multitiered displays, upon which sat earthen platters bearing smooth buns the color of tanned hide.

“Hello, dearies,” the kindly lady greeted them, flashing a smile as she patted down her apron, futilely attempting to wipe off some of the flour and succeeding in coating the table behind which she stood. “It’ll be two coppers a bun, if you’ve a hankering.”

“What is that lovely scent?” Uzza asked, her nose practically lifting from her face to move closer to the displays. Loran treated her with a smile.

“My specialty, dear,” she replied, taking the tiefling’s appearance in stride, “cheese topped buns, stuffed with mushrooms.” Charlot’s ears perked up, and he joined most of the others as they laid copper pieces upon the countertop.

Isolde asked if there were any buns without cheese, with only the barest sniff of disapproval, and Loran returned a second later with fresh from the oven buns, handing her a bun on a plate before paddling cheese onto the rest of the buns. Isolde reached into her pack for a few fresh leaves, which she crumpled and sprinkled over the hot bun. “A good plant is the best plant,” she casually explained in singsong tones.

Nula snorted and asked, “What exactly is a bad plant?”

The paladin paused in her sprinkling for a moment and looked thoughtful before responding, “A chicken.”

As they began to eat, satisfied groans and heavenly whimpers filled the small house, as they so often did, and as several of the group reaching for seconds, Robyn swallowed a delicious mouthful and inquired after Mini.

Loran sighed lightly. “Terrible trouble lately, Mini with her poor granddaughter, Pel. Poor girl claims to have seen a ghost, hasn’t quieted about it in weeks.”

The group’s interest was piqued, and they huddled around the woman. “A ghost?” Charlot asked, fingers straying to the fetish hidden in his coat pocket. “Where? In town?”

Loran laughed, a breezy chuckle. “Heavens, no, this was out by the barrows to the north. Ol’ Mini took the girl there to show her there was nothing to fear, but then the pair came back claiming they had seen goblins. Goblins! This close to Red Larch! Can you imagine?”

The group exchanged significant glances. In their journeys, the things that went bump in the night always ended up closer than the innocent liked to believe. Robyn thanked Loran for the buns and the information, Isolde picked up an extra bun for later, and the band exited.

~~

The group decided to check in at the Swinging Sword, hoping to find word of Mini and Pel. As they made their way, however, Nula and Oskar’s notice was drawn by a smithee down the road, and they promised to head to the inn as soon as possible. Nula’s eyes lit up as she entered the shop, glancing at the smith’s wares.

It was mostly simple farming tools, as a community like Red Larch had little need for weapons of war, but Ulhro Luruth, the smith, offered to stud her leather armor for a small fee, after being convinced this imposing green woman was not here to rob him. Oskar hefted the pair of salvageable battleaxes from the ogres earlier in the day and asked what the smith could offer for them. The stout man pondered this a while, testing the edges of the blades and supposing that they could easily be converted to lumber axes. After a price was agreed upon, the two headed back to the Swinging Sword.

Meanwhile, Charlot was sweet-talking Caelessa, the barkeep and owner of the Swinging Sword, between bites of a fancy meal. (It was so much better than the buns from down the lane, he assured her. Having tasted Loran’s wares herself, Caelessa was not convinced, but she appreciated the lad’s manners.) As there were still few other patrons in the tavern’s common room, she leaned against the bar and answered the boy’s questions, informing him that Mini and Pel spent most of their free time in All Faith’s Shrine following the deaths of the little girl’s parents, and that he should be able to find the pair there most any time of day, especially if Mini wasn’t tending her chickens.

After a sideways glance at the amount of weaponry the strangers bore, Caelessa cleared her throat and tossed her rag on the bartop. “Listen, folks such as yourselves wouldn’t know it, but there’s been trouble lately. And not just little girls and old ladies scared of what isn’t there. I’m not one to talk of such things, least not while the sun is up, but you should seek out the constable, man by the name of Harberk Toothmarralar. Comes by my place most nights, if you care to return.”

Charlot winked a long eyelash. “Oh, I do believe you can expect to see me again, darling.” He delicately popped a final morsel of stew into his mouth, smiling widely. “And I expect to have more of your delicious stew.” The party left Caelessa blushing, and made their way through town to All Faith’s Shrine.

~~

All Faith’s Shrine was a grand temple, as far as the village of Red Larch was concerned. It boasted two flags of thick wool hanging from the eaves of its front, richly dyed and showing regular upkeep. One depicted an upright flaming sword; the other, a blank scroll.

As they stepped within the temple doors, they could hear a girl’s voice echoing from down the hall, clamoring about ghosts. “I did too see a ghost! You weren’t there, you can’t say I didn’t!”

In a chamber off the main hall, Robyn recognized Mini, whom she had helped a couple years ago with a troublesome troupe of hooligans scaring away customers. She had her hands on her hips and appeared to be at her wits’ end. Hanging onto the old woman’s skirt was a young girl, no more than eight, glaring petulantly at a robed figure. “My dear, there’s no need to worry,” the man said in gentle tones. “You must not have seen what you think you saw. You’re safe here.”

As the group stepped into the room, Charlot spoke up. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, love. There are certainly dead things that are worth fearing. Better to know than be taken unawares.” The priest glowered at the youth, while Pel seemed unable to decide between looking victorious and disturbed.

“Do not encourage her,” Mini warned, though there was little bite in her words. The woman seemed tired, more than anything, and as Pel began to bounce around her grandmother, it was little wonder why.

“I knew it! I did see a ghost! I told you, I told you, I told you…”

Robyn stepped up beside Charlot. “Hello again, Minthra. Could you tell us where your granddaughter saw this, erm, ghost?”

Mini squinted in unfamiliarity and caught her granddaughter as she circled around again. “Have we met before?”

Robyn laughed heartily. “Oh, Mini, a kidder as always, so splendrified.” Mini chuckled uneasily and clutched Pel closer.

In the main hall, acolytes approached Isolde as she sat by an altar, arms wrapped around it. At their inquisitive stares, she simply shrugged and responded, “It’s how I was taught.” As the rest of the group re-entered the hall, Robyn looked aghast at the acolytes telling off the paladin.

“She has as much a right to worship as any of you! It is All Faith’s Shrine, after all!” When the priest attempted to interrupt her, she raised a hand. “Sir, it is descornable!”

Before the group could be evicted from the premises, Robyn offered to cook a meal for Mini and Pel. “And then, perhaps you can tell us more about this ghost,” she suggested to the young girl, much to Mini’s annoyance.

As they walked back to Mini’s house, they discussed the encounter. “She’d been talking non-stop about it for days,” Mini bemoaned, while Charlot walked beside the girl. “I didn’t think much of it, but when she wouldn’t stop, I had to teach her there was nothing to be afraid of. Only…”

“Only you saw something out there,” Oskar grunted, drawing a sigh of acceptance from the woman.

“I don’t know what I saw. Green flesh, bulbous eyes, I couldn’t have Pel around anything like that. I hightailed it back to Red Larch as fast as I could.”

“And this was where, exactly?” Isolde asked.

“Up by the barrows, three miles to the north and to the east a bit.”

Isolde nearly stopped in her tracks. “And Pel had traveled that far by herself?” Mini just shrugged. “I guess it’s not like she’s a chicken,” Isolde muttered under her breath. “She doesn’t need that much attention.”

As they walked, Charlot let Pel hold the shrunken goblin skull he channeled his spells through. The little girl was fascinated. “And where did you see this ghost?” Charlot asked again. The girl was finding it hard to concentrate.

“Across from the barrow, there are planks over the door, but I saw the ghost floating inside! It was incorp… incoper… see through!”

“Incarcerated,” Robyn offered.

Once they returned to Mini’s home, Robyn fulfilled her promise and cooked up a respectable meal, which Mini and Pel thanked her for (though they still asked for payment for the chicken). After that, the gang headed up the north road to the barrows.

The road was relatively well kept, but they did not come across a single soul. After a couple miles, a crude sign pointed down a less-traveled path to the right, indicating the resting spot of figures from the past, perhaps some ancestors of a family from Red Larch. The way from there was more tedious, as brambles and fallen branches seemed less controlled, but before long they spied a raised earthen mound in the distance. As they drew near, a possum darted out from the underbrush. Isolde flung her arms out to halt the party and dropped to the ground. After reaching out, with spirit and arms, to the forest around them, she began chittering at the possum.

After a minute of frantic chatter, Isolde pulled out the remains of her bun and dropped the crumbs before the creature. It dipped its head up and down, shoveled the bread into its mouth, and scampered off. Isolde straightened up and took a deep breath, then turned and saw everyone staring at her, waiting.

“Oh! This little fellow doesn’t know much about the barrows, but he did say that there have been a couple ‘two-legs’ nearby in the last few days. He said there was a smaller being and a larger one.”

Robyn thought for a moment. The barrow was not going anywhere, and if Pel could make it up here alone, so could other villagers. These creatures could be serious danger for them. “Did your furry friend tell you where it last saw them?” Isolde indicated an area in the woods, several minutes walk away. Robyn nodded to Idu. “Archimicarus ready for some reconnoisseurance?”

Idu scratched his head. “I think you mean… Yeah, we’re ready.” Right on cue, the falcon dove from the heights where he had been circling, swooping over the party’s heads before winging his way in the direction Isolde pointed. Idu’s eyes glazed over, and he began dictating the flight.

“Seems like there’s a clearing a couple hundred feet away… I can see a camp, and three heads… One of them is an ettin, the other’s a goblin.”

“Can you see how they’re armed?” Oskar asked, hefting his battleaxe.

“Let me get a little closer,” Idu mumbled, then the boy yelled and fell backwards, clutching at some unseen wound on his chest. “Well, they have a bow, at least.”

A few minutes later, the group approached the campsite as quietly as they could. They could hear the rumbling of the ettin’s heads conversing, and the quiet squeaking of the goblin. Idu motioned to Robyn, indicating they had arrived, and she held up a hand. As she brought it down, the gang leapt into action.

Fearless as always, Nula tossed herself into the fray first, ignoring the goblin and dashing to the large ettin. Its four eyes widened with surprise as Nula’s swords began to sing, darting through the air as they peppered its hide with slashes. At the same time, Charlot and Uzza stood shoulder to shoulder and raised their respective symbols, chanting as a necrotic beam and divine fire rained down on the ettin at the same time.

Robyn pulled an arrow from her quiver and focused on it, lacing the shaft with her will as she drew the bowstring. As it released, it flew toward the goblin, who immediately let out a wild cry and began cowering on the ground, helpless against Robyn’s iron will.

The ettin finally gathered its wits and hefted a cruel looking battleaxe, which it immediately swung in wide arcs at Nula. A moment later, the half-orc’s jarring laughter was cut short, and her body fell to the ground. Charlot felt her lifeforce shudder, and crooked a finger in Nula’s direction. “Not so fast,” he muttered, and Nula felt her soul slip back into her body. She was still heavily wounded, but she felt her heart-rate stabilize.

Charlot was not through, yet, though. With his other hand, he reached for the hulking frame of the ettin, calling upon the powers of the grave as he murmured an incantation. The ettin’s eyes widened in surprise yet again, as it found itself unable to move a muscle. Beads of sweat glistened on Charlot’s forehead as he held the spell. “Now!” he cried through gritted teeth.

Isolde and Oskar dashed into the fray, taking easy shots at the immobilized ettin, pulling muffled roars from its frozen mouths. Robyn readied another arrow and took aim, firing at the statuesque figure. Her arrow found its mark and then some, entering through one ear and out the other, then back into the third ear and out the fourth. Charlot felt the resistance fade, and as he released the spell, the gargantuan form toppled to the ground.

Having received a pick-me-up from Uzza, Nula leapt to her feet and turned on the remaining goblin. What followed is hardly fit to be depicted here, other than to say the goblin was completely eviscerated, and most would be hard pressed to say what the remaining shreds of flesh had previously been.

The threat contained, the party searched the remains of the campsite, coming up with a smallish purse filled mostly with coppers, and a pile of adventuring gear, most of which was stained with the blood of recent owners. Apart from a couple longswords and shields and a set of leather armor, most of the pile was too damaged for any vigorous use. Still, Oskar strapped the weapons and armor to his pack, content to offload them when able. The site having been picked clean, the group returned to the barrow.

~~

The planks covering the entrance to the barrow were easily enough removed, and beyond stretched a square corridor, 10 feet high, that stretched into darkness. Uzza and Oskar informed them it seemed to be about 30 feet long, and beyond lay a room with what appeared to be a large stone tablet in the middle.

Just before they ventured in, Isolde cast a spell to detect any undead presence. Sure enough, there was a being about thirty feet into the barrow. Armed and prepared, the group made their way down the corridor and into the chamber beyond.

A stone table sat in the middle of the room, and to the right a rusted iron door led deeper into the barrow. Before they could discuss proceeding further, a spectral knight suddenly appeared.

The group hefted weapons, drew arrows, and readied spells, but something stopped them. Perhaps it was the guarded manner of the apparition, perhaps it was the deathly stillness in the barrow. After an uneasy second, the spirit’s mouth began to move, though the voice seemed to emanate from the entirety of the room.

“I am Sir Loras the Vigilant, guardian of this tomb. What is your purpose here?”

The group shared glances, but it was Isolde who stepped forward to speak. “We are travelers here to investigate the claims of a young girl, who insists she saw a ghost here.” She stared pointedly as the ghost hovered over the ground.

“The child has no need to fear so long as she does not disturb my master’s tomb,” Loras’s voice echoed. “He rests here with priceless artifacts, the remnants of a life well lived.”

Nula’s eyes began to glitter at the prospect of buried booty, but Robyn nodded and motioned for the party to regroup outside. With a final longing glance at the iron door, Nula followed the others.

~~

It was decided that the threat from the ghostly guardian was minimal, and that the denizens of Red Larch simply needed to stay away from the barrows. Together, the band made their way back to the village. The bars were now in full swing, as farmers tried to drown out a busy day of husbandry in drink and good company. The crowd at the Swinging Sword was considerably less rowdy than that at the Helm at High Sun, and so Charlot, Uzza, Isolde, and Idu opted to settle in for a nice meal and then straight off to bed. It had been an eventful day, after all.

While they ate, Oskar nudged Nula. “Care to see how the beer in this town holds up?”

Nula smiled, smelling a challenge. “Better than you, Oskar, that’s for sure.” The dwarf chuckled as he led the way, with Robyn tagging along, having heard the promise of alcohol. As they got up to leave, Isolde tutted.

“One shall not poison one’s body with the disgustingness of alcohol.”

Inside the bustling Helm at High Sun, farmers rubbed shoulders with acolytes from the temple. Laughter and arguments filled the air, but Nula’s imposing form parted the masses as the three made their way to the bar. Glancing at the prices, Oskar tossed six coppers onto the polished wood. Nula threw down seven. Robyn snorted and called for a bottle of wine.

Three tankards in, Oskar wiped his mustache and turned to his drinking partner. “Care to make this interesting?” he asked, voice still clear.

Nula drained her drink and nodded. “What did you have in mind?”

Oskar appeared pensieve for a moment, then rumbled, “Loser wields the other’s weapon tomorrow.”

Nula grinned, reaching for another tankard. “Hope you’re as handy with a sword as you are with your axes, then!”

While the two fought for the barkeep’s attention, Robyn glanced over the crowd, eyes lighting on a tall figure with a prominent badge on his collar. Lifting her goblet, Robyn picked her way through the crushing crowd to the constable’s side.

“Hear you have trouble,” she insinuated after introducing herself. “We happen to be the perfectomonius people to handle it.” She took a swig of wine. “Whatever it is.”

Harberk glanced over to the bar, where a sizeable crowd was gathering around the dwarf and half-orc as they slammed down tankards. “Well, if the rest of you can handle yourselves as well as those two can handle their drink, you just might be right.”

A moment later, a great cheer rose to the rafters of the bar, and a large amount of money changed many hands, as Nula slumped over, mumbling into her tankard. Oskar, stoic as ever, finished the rest of his drink, then hefted the woman’s body, twice as tall as his own, over his shoulders and turned for the door.

Harberk’s eyebrows raised. “See me tomorrow about Trickle Rock Cavern. I suspect your group will need to recover from the night’s… festivities.”

“Some more than others,” Robyn laughed, and minutes later Oskar returned to the bar, placing three more coppers on the bar steadily.

[templarhalo]

The Master of Mankind’s Return Chapter 5 ( In the Grim darkness of the far future, there is only disappointment and hope)

Only three chapters left until this fanfic is officially complete  Thank you again for everyone who’s read it.   I plan  to have this chapter and the previous ones posted on Archive of our Own this week.

Vldor was falling.   He was tumbling into an an abyss,  his limbs flailing, his mouth trying to  scream, but producing no sound.

He slammed into the floor of a the Imperial Palace   Valdor groaned and pulled himself to his feet.   Then he looked around and almost screamed.

The palace was unrecognizable.  Gold was slathered over the walls,. Statues that had once been painted were dull and lifeless,   The magnificent tapestries and friezes that had been  removed in the process of fortifying the palace had not been restored to their  rightful place.

Thick layers of dust and soot had settled over everything.  Valdor had to refrain from screaming again when released the soot was actually cremated human  remains

Than he realized something.

The palace was silent.    Something it never should have been.  The palace had always been filled with the giggles of Ligo scampering through the halls, the clack-clack of Malcador’s Staff,  The chortle his Custodes made as the exchanged jokes with Sisters of Silence in thought-mark as they went about their duties.  The ka-boom! of one his King’s experiments  going awry.  

But there was no sound, not even the background of the hustle and bustle of Terra was heard.

Valdor started running in the direction of the Sanctum Imperialis.  He had landed  near the Tower of Hegemon.  In about 15 minutes at his maximum speed he would reach the Eternity Gate

When he reached Eternity Gate, he couldn't hold back his scream back anymore.

An army of the dead stood between him and Eternity Gate.  There were Astartes and Custodes in blackened armor, wreathed in fire, with no visible, flesh except for bones.   

There were mortal soldiers, too. Voidsmen of the defunct  Solar Auxilia, warrior maidens in a pattern of power armor he did did not recognize , Lucifer Blacks and the gung-ho Catachans.  Valdor saw flame-wreathed  soldiers in gas masks and trenchcoats clutching Lucius Pattern Lasguns and shotguns.  He saw  soldiers in green and olive fatigues led by a skeleton clutching a banner that had the name Cadia inscribed on  it's tattered form.

There were Thunder Warriors too.  The glorious, honored dead of the Terran Unification Wars stood alongside those who had been betrayed at Isstvan III and V and who died at the Siege of Terra and the decades after

Valdor felt a chill deep in his bones.  There had to be at least 300,000 Space Marines alone standing before him, not to mention  the Custodes and Thunder Warriors and the host of mortal soldiers.

For a second Valdor stood before an army of Martyrs.

Then they saluted, and parted before him

Valdor hesitated, then he gritted his teeth and took a step forward

Eternity Gate opened  with a deep  rumble.

Valdor  was greeted by a withered figure  sitting in a cell.  It took Valdor a moment to  recognize him as His King

The Emperor rose from the floor.  Valdor could see His ribs through the chiton He wore.   His hair was white and greasy, dark circles were under his eyes.  His hands were gnarled arthritic things. No aura of raw power cloaked him, this was His King as he truly looked, the strain keeping his body and mind intact after the wounds Horus dealt and the agony of his confinement to  Golden Throne plain to  see .

The Emperor wiped blood from his nose, than he spat black bile and coughed up phlegm,   His body made the rattle of death,  for it was little more than a corpse, its only purpose to  contain His essence and provide a form for His subjects and the woman he loved more than life itself to  see.  

“The wheels of fate are spinning  old friend, I have done all I can to  stack the deck in your favor.”

The Emperor  reached through the bars and lay a spasm wracked hand on Stan's chestplate.

“I look forward to seeing you with my own eyes old friend.”

Constantin awoke with a gasp.  He was  not expecting to be able to actually see with his physical eyes.  Isha must have healed him while he’d experienced this…. Experience.  Valdor would not call it a dream.  Dreams hurt and left a dry, bitter taste on one’s mouth, like a mix of taking a bolter round to the chest and trying to keep down bitter dregs of a poor vintage of wine.

“Your mind is loud for a mon-keigh.”  Isha said.

“Really?” Valdor asked.  The goddess nodded.   “You have my thanks for healing me.  Are we close to finding an exit to realspace?” The custodes asked.  He rose with more effort than he’d care to admit.  His wounds had been healed, but his strength was flagging.  He wanted nothing more than to rest, but duty forced him to remain standing and press onwards.

“There is a webway portal ahead   Twenty five of what you call miles ahead.” Isha answered.

The Aeldari goddess smelled of pine and roses, freshly baked bread and fertile soil.   The goddess presence, coupled with the  whispers of the imperfection of the daemons and those he slew with the Apollonian Spear hammered at him.  

He looked at Aella for a second.  

“You look like shit Captain-General.”  The young custodes  said with a grin.

Leman let out a bark of laughter.

“I feel like shit.” Valdor said.

“So Lord Commander Guilliman has petitioned for the aid of the knights of Sigismund?” High Marshal Helbrecht asked.

“My Primarch... has requested that the Black Templars muster as many warriors as you can spare to aid him for his crusade.  He would be honored if the Eternal Crusader could take part.” Lieutenant Chiron Patroclus of the Ultramarines 10th Company replied.

Sitting in a throne of hand carved marble mined from a quarry on holy Terra  during that heady period between the end of the Terran Unification Wars and the first true battles of the Great Crusade Helbrecht was every inch a Black Templar.

His Power Armor was a mix of Mark III and IV  plate  painted in a dull bronze that did little to hide the scars and dents it had accumulated during its service not just to Helbrecht but to those who had worn it before him. A line of knights had worn this suit, a line stretching back all the way to the Templar Brethren of the First Company of the original Imperial Fists Legion.  The suit had bore the scars of the battle fought at Beta-Gamon and the Siege of Terra itself.  

Over this power armor was a black tabard and cloak lined in arterial scarlet. Further adorning the armor were oaths of moment, purity seals, crusader tokens and scrolls detailing Helbrecht's glorious deeds.

In the Master of the Black Templar’s hands was the Sword of the High Marshal’s.  Even sheathed and deactivated  the Power Sword radiated an aura of majesty,  for the blade had been forged using  fragments of Rogal Dorn's own Chainsword Storm's Teeth.  The holy sword  had been quenched in traitor and xenos blood in the hands of the founder and First High Marshal of the Black Templar and  the First Emperor’s Champion, Sigismund

In contrast, Lieutenant Chiron wore Mark X Power Armor, which bore few battle scars. Helbrecht saw no battle honors on his armor aside from the Vigilus Campaign.

Not only does the Primarch send a lackey, he doesn't even send me one who's at least earned to right to march onto the field of battle in  holy Terminator Armor. Helbrecht thought.

Helbrecht’s pride was not stung, but the High Marshal was by the  necessity of his sacred office and duties a political thinker.  

Why had Lord Commander Gulliman sent a Lieutenant with barely two centuries of battle experience?  If the matter was so damn important why not order the High Marshal with his divine and political authority or petition him in person? Why not send Marneus Calgar or Reclusiarch Cassius? Or a member of his Victrix Guard or a Company Captain?  Or was this crusade so important that this young officer was all the thirteenth son of the God Emperor could spare in his preparations?

At least he has not sent one of his  Librarians. Helbrecht thought.

“Tell me Lieutenant, given the importance of this endeavor why had Lord Commander Gulliman not come in person? I mean no offense but why send  a young brother such as yourself? “

“No one else could be spared my Lord.  My Primarch is personally overseeing the gathering of forces for his new crusade.  Lord Calgar has been recalled from Vigilus to resume his role as Lord Defender of Macragge.  Reclusiarch Cassius fights along the 3rd Company and half the 6th against the Tyranids of Hive Fleet Kronos. The remainder of the chapter save for 25 veterans of the first and half of my own company, muster at Calth.

Translation :Guilliman was micromanaging again, but wanted his officers close, and anyone else that could have been sent  was unavailable due to other duties.

“What are Gulliman’s goals for this new crusade of his?” Helbrecht asked.

“Further securing the borders between the western and eastern half of the Imperium as well as the destruction of key traitor assets including  the Despoiler himself. My lord.  Many chapters, including your primogenitors and the Iron Hands have contributed their entire strength to  this endeavor.”

Helbrecht took a second to reply.

“I will confer with my knights, tell your primarch I can guarantee at least two hundred warriors for his crusade. I cannot promise that the Eternal Crusader herself will join for I have received petitions from other commanders.”

The Lieutenant nodded and than left the hall.

“My liege,  you should send only a handful of knights, there are other war zones, we would be more suited to.” Marshal Brienne of the Tarth Crusade said.

“I concur, High Marshal, the filthy Tyranids  and Tau have been ravaging the southern half of the Imperium, send enough brothers and sisters to satisfy the Lord Commander and be done with it.  He did not even petition you in person.” Marshal Tormund, a Primaris Marine clad in battered Gravis Armor said gruffly

“We have received reports of Huron Blackheart conducting  raids in the galactic West.  We should muster as many warriors and ships as we can.  Surely she  would be put to better use ending the Tyrant of Badab. while Lord Commander Guilliman has his own Gloriana.”   Marshal Michel spoke.

Helbrecht  suppressed a sigh.   The Black Templars had been bloodied this past century.    Many of their Chapter Keeps had been destroyed.  Many brothers and sisters had given their lives for the God-Emperor.   With the Imperium split in half that meant a great many Knights were missing, presumed fallen.   Helbrecht doubted there were a little less than two thousand Black Templars still crusading, and with every petition for aid and every campaign that dragged on longer than projected spread them thinner and sapped their strength.   The crusade to protect key Shrine worlds had been a costly campaign, even with the new Primaris Marines to bolster their ranks.   The Indomitus Crusade had whittled them down even more.   Aiding Lord Commissar Yarrick in slaying Ghazkull Urk Thraka had left more than a thousand of them dead   While the chapter had continued the Eternal Crusade far below Codex Approved levels, and when tthe chapter had been at the brink of extinction, something had to  give.  The Black Templars could not be everywhere at once.

“This is a perfect opportunity to avenge Marshal Almarich and the honored fallen  who died fighting the Despoiler!” Venerable Tankred boomed. The  Dreadnought  was one of 14 ancients and the sole Mark V lingering in the corner of Sigismund’s Hall. The others were  mix of Contemptor, Mark IV and Leviathan patterns; all of them more than five thousand years old or more.

Helbrecht listened to the arguing of his Marshals and Castellans

“Enough!  Tonight, I will pray to the primarch and the God Emperor for guidance before the bones of the first High Marshal!  Tomorrow I will decide if I will take the Eternal Crusader to  join Lord Guilliman.”

That night Helbrecht knelt before the amber encased bones of the first Black Templar and prayed for guidance.

He shut his eyes,  for a second  he was kneeling, the next he on the bridge of the Eternal Crusader, the Vengeful Spirit filling up the viewports.   He saw the Phalanx beside the Vengeful Spirit. Her guns trained on the traitor flagship

“Fire now High Marshal!” A voice ordered over the vox.

Helbrecht opened his eyes, his chapped lips uttering a gasp.  He was back in the Tomb of Sigismund.  

When he returned to his quarters he voxed Reclusiarch Grimaldus that he had made his decision. The Eternal Crusader would go to Gulliman’s crusade. The only question now would be which Marshals would accompany him and which ones would not.

“Finally an exit back into real space.” Leman said.    “Do we know where it leads?” Rogal asked Isha inspected the portal.

“ It leads to a planet called Drecksloch.”  Isha said   She  pointed to  the inscription and  smiled,  as if she knew a joke that others  would not get.  

The portal opened  with a deep bass rumble

The five of them entered the shimmering portal,  Constantin  a sense of vertigo for a a few minutes  no more than three by his estimate.   Than he emerged in the middle of a fucking war zone.  In the distance he could make out Imperial Fists and Space Wolves  engaging warriors of the Black Legion.   

The sky was  filled with smoke  and dueling aircraft.

“Brother?  Is that you?”  a familiar, if somewhat unliked voice said.

Standing before them, clad in  deep blue and gold Power Armor, a Laurel wreath on his head and The Emperor of Mankind’s sword in his hand was Roboute Guilliman.

   .