#gale-winds-unleashed

[galeorderbride]

Good lord! That Gale fic?! I made a GRAVE error and read it at work and now I have to concentrate while doing business things?! 10000/10 no notes! Thank you so much!!

What if Gale used Invisibility with a consenting Tav?

Ohhh you’re a gem for saying that thank you <3 and I hope you recovered from workplace smut (I have definitely made the same mistake lol)

You put a thought in my brain, anon. I made this little ficlet based on what you suggested :)

18+ MDNI for smut, including: inappropriate use of invisibility spell (consensual), surprise intimate touching, fingering

I wrote this with F!reader as the subject, hope that's ok <3

Words: 1164

Gale wasn’t a man to do the expected. When you permitted him to use an invisibility spell in your—private moments—he wasn’t going to simply sneak up on you while doing dishes or writing letters. He decided to take the time to make things elaborate, unexpected to the nth degree. Which is why, when he finally did execute his plan, you figured he’d forgotten about the conversation. You couldn’t deny your slight disappointment, anticipating a playful surprise as days went on. Never knowing when he’d take action. Only to have nothing happen. 

He was a busy man lately, now that he was a full time professor at Blackstaff and midterm season was peaking. Locking himself in his office for hours at a time, missing dinner if you didn’t bring him a plate after you’d finished. Followed by copious amounts of ‘thank yous’ and kisses on your cheek. Making sure you knew he hadn’t forgotten you, even if he holed himself up for so long. You tried to remain resilient, trust that he was preoccupied and once this time of the semester was complete, he’d be back to his attentive self once again. 

Self care was a good distraction from the hollow silence of the tower. Tara wasn’t even there to lift your spirits, visiting Morena for the night. Instead, you ran yourself an indulgent bath, using extra honey scented bubble bath and rosehip oil. Frothy suds blanketing the top layer of the hot water as you sunk your body into paradise. Letting yourself fall under the spell of relaxation as you tried to get your mind off the isolation. 

The dripping tap and gusts of wind against the glass windowpane were all that could be heard. Humming to yourself your favourite tunes from the bard performance you and Gale attended a week ago. Eyes closing as you became lost in the warm water, the perfect temperature for you. 

Until a shift in the formerly still water catches you off guard. A smooth, tranquil wave of the bubbles splitting in two, as if a hand broke between. Teasing through the gap of your spread knees. You hardly noticed at first, just thought it was a twitch of your leg or stretch of your foot. But the light flow around your skin becomes a soft but evident caress from ankle to calf. Someone is touching you, but you are completely alone. 

You unleash a shaky breath, a fearful but intriguing jerk within your muscles as the invisible touch hastens to move further between your legs. Ripples of water now waving in full force, sizeable enough that you pieced together just what—or who—guided such spontaneous magic. 

“Is that you, professor?” You say, voice hitching with captivated breath as the formless hand brushes against your cunt. Featherlight to the point where you wonder if you even felt it. 

No response, the typical verbosity of your wizard masked for effect. Part of you fizzled with fear, a tiny threat of a question in the back of your mind that asked if Gale was the one touching you or not. But you were more than familiar with the way he circled around your clit, the patterns of which he teased even though he’d swear there was no routine. After months of living with him in Waterdeep, when he’d seldom go a day without ravishing you, you found little trouble recognizing the force to be him.  

You giggle flirtatiously, head lying back against the ridge of the tub as invisible fingertips went from tickling to softly rubbing your clit. Letting your ankle lift through the steamy bubbles and hook over the edge. Opening further for him, biting your lip in sinful satisfaction as you catch the desirous sound of his shaken breath in your ear. Definitely him, drowning in the essence of your soaked up pleasure. You moan a little louder for him, a sign for this new ghost lover of yours to keep going as you climb further toward climax. 

Splashing increases around you as your lower body jolts with pleasure. Gale slides one finger inside, curling upward in the perfect way. Your skin runs red in a lusty blush as you picture what your pussy might look like as an invisible finger thrusts into it. Getting penetrated by nothing yet filled even further as he slips a second finger inside. 

Your moan is almost guttural, ferally chasing that high. You say, “Are you going to show yourself or am I gonna cum all by myself?” 

With his free hand, he snapped his fingers with a loud flick. Gale appeared behind you, resting his arm around the tub as your eyes stared upward at him. Strands of hair hanging around his face, the circles under his chestnut eyes darkened even further with incurable lust. Finished by a smirk so irresistible you’re sure you could explode just by looking at him. 

Moving his free hand to your breast, prodding at the plush flesh, he says, “I’d hardly be able to concentrate if I tried. Watching you come undone for me…I can’t think of anything else.” 

Gale smashed his lips against yours, passionate and fiery. The same pace as his thumb rubbing your clit, fingers thrusting assertively up. His other hand worked your nipple, pinching and twisting in just the right spots to get your entire midsection in tingles. Slipping his tongue into your mouth just as you let out a pleasurable yelp. Bringing you closer and closer to the edge of paradise. 

He doesn’t miss a beat, maintaining rhythm even as your body writhes in ecstasy. Your kiss slips away, mouths still hovering over each other, drinking in your air. You shudder out, “D-don’t stop…nearly there…”

His breath is hot, keeping your foreheads together. Leading you up and up that hill of no return. He growled, “Yes, good. Do it for me, do it now.” 

The crackle of his voice is enough to fully tip you over the edge. Your sex blossoms with a wet, intense orgasm that spreads throughout your lower body. Gale laughs quietly, taking in the satisfaction of finally unravelling you after so long waiting to strike with that invisibility spell. Days of thinking about the perfect time, now coming to fruition as you fall apart around his fingers. He can’t wait for the rest of the evening. 

Your body calms down, settling into the lukewarm water filled with soap lines and sweat. Gale gives you no time before he scoops both arms under you, lifting you from the tub in a bridal style carry. You giggle as you hug his shoulders, rubbing your nose against his. 

“Thank you for lifting me,” you say, “My legs are like jelly after that.” 

He chuckled, “Well, it’s the least I could do. Considering I’m about to take you to the bed and make the rest of your body—like jelly.” 

“Oh? Invisible or not?” You asked. 

As he flipped you onto the mattress and climbed over you, he said, “Why not both?”

[rangerelizabeth]

“I’ll never give you up.” Soft sentence prompt

Thank you so much for the request! I really enjoyed writing this one. This is (sort of) established relationship Clegan + that scene up on the control tower. Hope you like it!

Prompt: "I'll never give you up."

Word count: 1481

The end of the war celebration roars with an explosive fervor, seeming as though there’s been a mutual agreement among the men to throw all restraint to the wind tonight. Whiskey flows freely, glasses clink in cheers after cheers, the men shout, dance, and clap each other on the back enthusiastically, reveling in the fact that they’re still alive and will soon be going home. Amidst it all, the jazz band unleashes a crescendo of sound that seems to be several times louder and more energetic than usual.

Admittedly, Gale feels a little overwhelmed by it all, but he knows it’s good for the men to see him here celebrating after everything they’ve endured. He lost sight of John in the crowd some time ago, though that’s not unusual. He’s sure John’s at the epicenter of the chaos somewhere. Amusedly, Gale thinks that if he really wants to find him, requesting “Blue Skies” from the band would surely draw him out—likely in front of the microphone, belting out the tune in that slightly off-key but endearing way that Gale secretly adores. 

Just then, almost as if reading Gale’s thoughts, John appears at his side. “Hey, want to get out of here?”

Gale is surprised. He’s never known John to turn down a party. Then again, he figures they’ve all changed in some ways throughout the war. Gale’s certainly not going to argue. This scene has never been his favorite, and he’d much prefer a quiet evening alone with John than navigating the packed, boisterous club. 

They slip outside into the cool night air, and John leads them up to the deserted control tower. From there, they can see the flares that the ground crew are sending up in celebration. They look and sound a little too much like the bursts of a fort going up in flames or the sound of a gun firing for Gale’s liking, but he won't be the one to dampen their evening by saying so. 

They sit in comfortable silence, interrupted only by John taking occasional swigs from his flask, which he eventually offers to Gale. Their fingers brush as Gale accepts it. John looks at him in surprise, no doubt thinking of all the times he’s offered Gale a drink in the past only to be turned down. 

“Well, I promised you a drink, didn’t I?” Gale takes a sip, trying not to grimace at the bitter taste.

Passing the flask back, their eyes meet and they fall silent once more. Gale knows they’re both remembering the same moment.

It’s one of those days where there’s not much to do, so the men get restless. Although, one could argue, that’s most days at Stalag Luft III. They’re all deteriorating, physically and mentally, as the days get darker and colder, but John most of all. He stares at the fence more often, walks close to it. Not close enough for the guards to actually do anything, but still closer than what is wise. He lashes out too, at Gale and the other men. The only time it feels like John’s really there is when they curl up together in Gale’s bunk each night to stave off the cold. There, they have whispered exchanges and press silent kisses to each other's lips, and it feels like the Gale and John he remembers from before they landed in this godforsaken place. 

Gale misses John during the day, even when he’s right next to him. Gale resents him too, sometimes, despite the fact that he also loves him with the entirety of his being. He can’t help but feel like all the responsibility the two of them used to carry together has been dumped on his shoulders, and he’s sinking under the weight of it. Can’t help but feel like since John has allowed himself to break down, Gale has to hold it together for the both of them, even though he too feels like he’s coming apart at the seams.

Now, they sit together on the front steps of their quarters. While it’s cold outside, it’s not much warmer in the bunks and they can only stand being cooped up indoors for so long before getting cabin fever. John rubs his hands together, trying to coax some warmth back into his fingers.

“What I wouldn’t give for a strong shot of whiskey right about now. That’d warm us all up right quick,” John says, with a hint of humor in his voice. But when Gale looks over at him, he’s still staring straight ahead. Staring at that damned fence. “Hell, maybe it’d even get you to finally have a drink with me.”

Gale sighs. John’s said barely two words to him all morning and this is what he chooses to break his silence about? Still, it gives Gale an idea. 

“Tell you what, Bucky. When we get out of this on the other side, I will,” Gale promises.

“You serious?” John asks, turning to raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. Yes, look at me, look at me. Don’t look at that fence, Gale wants to beg.

“If it gives you something to look forward to, then sure,” Gale says instead. At that point, Gale probably would have agreed to get roaring, black out drunk with John when they got out, if it would keep him from getting himself killed doing something reckless in the meantime.

“Alright, then,” John chuckles, turning his gaze back away from Gale. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“We’re gonna make it out of here John. I need you to believe that,” Gale says, more seriously now.

John just hums, noncommittal. “Sure, Buck.”

It’s a sickening deja vu to their conversation in Algeria, and Gale can tell John’s not entirely convinced. It’s fair enough—he hadn’t been either, when John had said almost those exact words to him what feels like a lifetime ago. For now, Gale doesn’t know what more he can say to convince him, so he stays quiet. Knowing they’re under watchful eyes but needing to remind himself that John is still there, he places a gentle hand on John’s shoulder, stroking it down to the small of his back before letting it drop.

“So, what now?” John asks quietly, jolting him out of his thoughts. Right, they’re up on the control tower. They made it out. 

“What do you mean?” Gale returns, unsure of what John’s getting at. 

“I mean, we’re going home. What are you gonna do next?”

Gale’s momentarily taken aback by the question. It’s one he’s pondered often as the war drew to a close, but he’s never settled on a clear answer. He’s thought about going back to school or maybe becoming a flight instructor, but the only constant in all his plans has been John. In every life he imagines for himself, John is right there next to him. But now, John is asking him what he’s going to do next as if he’s not going to be involved, and it sets Gale’s heart racing.

“I’m not sure,” Gale admits. “But whatever it is, I’d like to do it with you.” 

It’s a leap of faith. For all the savored private moments they’ve shared during the war, discussion of their future was never one of them. Perhaps initially there had been some unspoken agreement that this only existed within the confines of the war. Or perhaps the future felt too out of reach, considering the long and winding road it had taken for them both to end up back here now. 

Gale’s words hang in the air, before John surges forward, their lips meeting in a messy, heartfelt kiss. Hands come up to cup Gale’s face, and Gale sighs into it. It’s all he’s wanted all evening. A weight feels like it’s been lifted from his shoulders at John’s enthusiastic response to his declaration.

As they part, John’s hands still cradle Gale’s face, his touch soft. “You sure you don’t want to give this up, have a normal life? You could, with Marge.”

Gale’s heart clenches at the suggestion of a life without John. “Do you?”

“Don’t think I ever could,” John says honestly. The fireworks from the ground crew bathe John’s face in swathes of warm orange light, and Gale likens it to the slow burn of happiness now spreading in his chest.

Gale knows it won’t be easy—they’ll never have everything that others can. There will be no public dates, no wedding bands, no meeting the family. What they have can only exist behind closed doors. But in Gale’s opinion, that’s more than enough.

“Neither could I,” Gale declares firmly. “I’ll never give you up.” 

“You sure the whiskey ain’t clouding your judgment?” John teases, eyes sparking with mirth.

Gale rolls his eyes playfully. “Oh, please,” he retorts, tugging at John’s collar to close the distance between them, melding their lips together once more.

[vermilionskiinmorning]

Beginning of the End | Durgetash

Summary: In which durge is scouting for a discreet entrance to Wyrm's Rock Fortress and has a series of failed skill checks that result in her ending up in Banite custody

Words: 6k

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A storm was brewing overhead and threatening to unleash itself upon the city of Baldur’s Gate as Feravel picked her way along the rocky outcrops at the base of Wyrm’s rock fortress. The dense cloud cover blotted out the moon and any stars that might’ve lit her way in the darkness but thankfully as a half-elf, she could make out the platforms and handholds as she came across them. Falling from a cliff would’ve been an embarrassing way to go and who knew how long it would take her friends to find her. Perhaps, she ought to have told them where she was going despite what would’ve surely been a host of protests and offers to accompany her, but this needed to be done quietly. It was a single man scouting mission. The clouds which had only begun to form as they’d all ate together on the elf song patio hadn’t signaled the intensity of the winds that would follow though. Still, Feravel was fleet of foot and felt confident she’d be able to complete her reconnaissance and return to the tavern without too much trouble.

They might disapprove of her methods, but her friends would be grateful when they didn’t have to sneak through the fortress to reach the prison. A stealth breaking and entering to rescue Florrick would benefit them by allowing their continued freedom of movement around the fort. It would also allow them to scout out the entrance for Ansur’s lair which was somewhere beneath the prison according to Wyll’s book on the matter. As long as they weren’t caught doing it.

As she hopped down to a lower ledge, Feravel was struck by a niggling feeling in the back of her mind. Thankfully it was not the familiar sensation of the parasite squirming around in her head, but more the feeling of something familiar yet forgotten. Something Feravel couldn’t quite put a finger on; like she’d done this before -been here on this particular cliff before.

Scouting. A mission. Some one  she had to find. Not some thing . A way in. Through a rocky crevice maybe ? Climbing up to reach it. Somewhere natural rock and hewn stone met. Squeezing down a narrow passage. He’ll be pleased. An excellent gift. Her lips curled with pleasure .  Focus, need to be silent. The guards are near.

Then the rain started, startling her out of the odd visions and musings that didn’t feel truly her own. Refocusing Feravel started moving again not having realized she’d come to a halt. Wherever that place was, it had to be close by. Just around the corner perhaps? She’d have to scale a particularly steep incline to reach it.

Suddenly, as she was reaching for a handhold there came a strong burst of wind whipped through the night knocking her slightly off balance. It caused her to lose footing on the slick grass and her feet to go out from under her. She crashed to the ground and slid several feet almost tumbling over the edge of the outcropping she’d been working along. The scream of shock she let out as she’d fallen was entirely against her will, but even with the wind, Feravel felt sure it carried. Cursing herself, she lay there silently listening to the roaring of the wind and the churn of waters down below trying to make out any sign she’d been detected. With her dark cloak, it would be unlikely a sentry would see her through the darkness even if she had been heard. Still, she was reluctant to move and give away her position should someone high above be peering over a rampart at that very moment. Or would a steel watcher’s mechanical gaze be able to pierce the gale and see the smallest glint of a buckle or a stray ray of dim light catch her blade?

Moments passed, and she couldn’t be sure how long she waited for something, anything to happen. But Feravel heard nothing, saw nothing, and eventually, she relaxed. Finally, she pulled herself to her feet and assessed the damage. She would surely have a bruised tailbone and some superficial scrapes come morning. A small price to pay.

Her thoughts returned to the feeling she’d had about this place. Whatever it was and however she knew it mattered little. That crack in the wall had to be close by. The feeling of Deja vu was strong. She’d just have to follow it.

Just as she was reaching for a rock that looked familiar, she heard the chink of an armored boot behind her and stilled. No one could’ve seen her.  Except mayb e…  Feravel turned to see an armored elf wearing a mask covering the top of his face and standing closer than she’d thought he would be.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Feravel cocked her head slightly to the side sizing him up. He was larger than her, no Halsin to be sure, but taller and broader than her short and   curvy stature   nonetheless. And in his heavy armor, she would likely be quicker with no mail or plate to weigh her down.

“Really? Where is here anyway? I was out fishing when this storm rolled in and blew my boat-“

“Cut the shit.”

He was readying to strike. She saw him gripping the hilt of a dagger at his belt.

“Look saer, I’m not looking for any trouble here.” Feravel scoffed, taking a tentative step back.

Her movement sent the elf into action and he struck faster than she expected. The pommel of his dagger came down on her temple before she could even draw her blade to parry. As her body went limp Feravel felt the weapon slipping from her fingers and the darkness closed in on her vision.

Up on the top floor of the fort, Enver tapped his fingers rhythmically on his desktop as he listened to a report being read out by one of his aides. The recitation was interrupted by a knock at the door which caused the man to stumble over his words and glance at the archduke. When Enver made no move to answer or even acknowledge the knock, the man continued speaking. Then the knock came again. An irritated twitch pulled at Enver’s brow. His followers knew how much he loathed being interrupted and yet whoever it was knocked again.

“Enter.”

Enver spoke sharply above the voice of the underling who quickly silenced himself in response. A brief scuffle ensued just outside the door before it was wrenched open so hard it bounced off the stone wall. In walked an armored Banite elf commander dragging the short squirming cloaked figure with their hands cuffed at their front. The elf shouldered the door shut with difficulty as the cloaked prisoner was still attempting to extricate themself from his grasp.

“And what exactly is this about, Luka?” Enver snapped. “Prisoners are taken to the dungeon for the Flaming Fists to deal with.”

Luka huffed irritably. He released the figure and gave the prisoner a rough shove forward causing them to topple to the ground. They gave a huff of frustration as they gathered themself.

“Apologies, my lord, I would have taken her there except she’s one of that group of adventurers you mentioned.”

Enver’s brown raised. He strode swiftly across the room and flicked back the cloak’s cowl. Feravel looked back at him with an irritable expression.

“Out.”

He dismissed Luka and the aide without another word.

The fire crackled behind Enver’s back as he observed Feravel’s disheveled state. Her cloak dripped steadily onto the rug, her leather boots were marred with mud, her hair askew and, her cheeks flushed. The traces of irritation had been wiped from her face though as she fixed him with a disinterested mask - a look he’d once known well.

As Enver studied her, Feravel scanned the stone-walled room for an escape. The balcony she’d fled from on her previous visit to this office was shut with a latched door. So there'd be no quick escape there.

She was not only embarrassed by what she’d gotten herself into but flustered at having to deal with Enver again. Of course, he'd have his Banites on the lookout for her group. Why couldn’t it have been a Flaming Fist? She'd been taken to the prison, then at least all she’d have to do was escape. Astarion would surely have some sarcastic commentary on the art of stealth when this was over. It took more than a modicum of effort not to let her thoughts show on her face.

“You know, if you wanted to see me again you didn’t have to get yourself caught snooping around my fort.” Said Enver, off-handedly.

His tone was so self-assured. He was greeting a friend. Same as before.

“Well if you wanted to see me again you didn’t have to have me arrested on sight.” Feravel challenged archly. She gave a rather pointed look at the cuffs secured to her wrists.

Enver paced the short distance back toward his desk beside the fireplace.

“You’re the one who was sneaking around my dear. What did you think would happen if you were caught?”

Feravel huffed and rolled her eyes. “Jail? Most prisoners aren’t brought directly to the archduke of the city are they?”

He didn’t answer immediately only humming vaguely in response. Enver pulled out one of the drawers and began rifling through the various objects inside. Upon locating the item he desired, Enver shut the drawer with a snap and turned his attention back to her.

“No, they are not. So were you anyone else, you’d certainly be correct, but you are you. And I’ve taken the liberty of bolstering the Flaming Fists's numbers with some of my own -that is to say those loyal only to myself and lord Bane.”

Feravel twisted her hand minutely in the cuff trying to gauge how difficult it would be to free herself. They were rather snug. Perhaps if she squeezed her fingers together and tugged, but Enver was watching her. She’d have to wait or distract him somehow.

“Well,” said Enver when she made no comment. “If you’re supposedly not here to see me. Then what are you doing here?”

“Oh seeing the sights. I hear storms on the Chionthar are a quiet sight after all.” She replied flippantly.

Enver rolled his eyes. He came around to the front of the desk to lean against its edge.

“You expect me to believe you were skulking around in the dead of night to see a storm you could’ve watched perfectly well from the docks or any other number of places in the city.”

A slight smirk quirked the corner of her lip as she retorted. “Damn. You know what, I didn’t even think of that.”

“Fera…” Enver began warningly, looking tired as the hour warranted. “What were you really doing?”

Her answering shrug was sarcastic. Subtly as she could manage, Feravel used the movement to tuck one of her hands behind the folds of her cloak.

“I was….” She trailed off as something behind him caught her eye.

Her eyes drifted to the mantle over the fireplace, on it sat a black statuette of a knight with painted golden embellishment. Unlike most of the decor in the archduke’s study, the statue was Enver’s. Usually, it was on a desk, next to a stack of papers in another office. Seeing it made her smile, but only to herself. Feeling her lips start to form one even then, Feravel immediately forced them into a slight frown instead.

“I’ve been here before.” Her words were uncertain.

Enver nodded slowly at her, looking a mite concerned. As if contemplating whether the damage to her mind was more extensive than he’d originally thought. Briefly, he glanced over his shoulder to locate what had caught her eye, but nothing seemed out of place.

“Yes my dear. Just a few days ago.”

She twisted an edge of her cloak in her hand, fisting the fabric, and sighed in frustration. “No.  Before .”

A sudden spark of hope flared in Enver’s eyes but he hid it quickly behind an impassive expression. Feigning disinterest, he waved a hand dismissively. “Perhaps. I hardly knew of all your comings and goings. We were both very busy you understand.”

A hidden passage. Exactly what she'd been looking for. Sneaking silently, invisible, through a stone corridor. An office on some lower level of the fort. A gurgled cry and blood rushing over her gloved fingers. Excitement rushed through her. About to leave, but something caught her eye. Black and gold, a knight. Pocketing it. A bloody dagger clattered across a desk. Placing the knight beside the dagger. A grin of satisfaction.

Then his voice close to her ear. “Thank you my dear.”

A caress.

“You knew about this.” She said more confidently.

Enver leaned forward slightly. He couldn’t fully contain his interest.

“I came here…” Feravel trailed off again. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for something unseen. A further prompt for her memory, but nothing came. Nothing in the duke's office was familiar, but her gut supplied the answer anyway. “To kill?”

She returned her focus to him.

“For you. Why would I do that?”

Enver smiled just slightly. “Well that’s not the first time you've asked me that question.”

Feravel furrowed her brow. “The temple of Bhaal kills for its own sake. You said I was an assassin for you. Why though?”

A look of fondness flickered across his features. “It wasn’t an originally part of our agreement, you drive a hard bargain. But I managed to make it worth your while in the end.”

It was him that looked far away then. In his mind, Enver must’ve certainly been somewhere else. A memory they had once shared that now, she may never recall.

“Then later we became partners and -as you know- more.”

She didn’t like the way he talked about her. The way he knew her when she didn’t know herself. His recollections. The intimacy. It felt like listening to someone describe a night of black-out drinking except it wasn’t just a night. It was her life.

Enver withdrew a key from his pocket and held out a hand to her. Grudgingly, she dropped the hem of her cloak and went over to him. She held out her hands but made sure she left a respectable distance between them. He met her eyes with intensity as he took one wrist at a time and unlocked each cuff. Holding her hand in his lightly as if not to startle her and cause her to withdraw.

“Partners don’t usually kill for each other.” She said, tactfully choosing to ignore the latter half of his assertion.

“Well my dear, that's not entirely accurate is it? It depends on the line of business." Enver paused, then added. "It took us several years to get to that point.”

“Partners or assassinations?”

He chuckled. “Both.”

She had forgotten about Enver still holding her hand until he brushed his thumb across her palm. Instinctively she made to pull her hand back and for a moment she felt his grip on her tighten before he relaxed it, allowing her to withdraw. When Feravel looked up at him he was already looking at her, waiting to meet her eye.

“I don’t expect anything from you.” He said.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “That’s sort of a different tune.”

He was frustrated. “I won’t lie, I’d go back to how we were in an instant. But if all we can be is partners, so be it.”

She wondered if there was an unspoken “for now” to the statement. He appeared sincere if not disconsolate at the idea, but in all their dealings thus far Enver had been truthful. It was clear though that he wanted more from her and this proposed partnership. Perhaps she could convince him to abandon the plot and they could defeat the brain together.

To avoid meeting his gaze again as she considered the possibility, Feravel cast a look about the room again. It was finely but impersonally furnished except for the statue which had prompted their current line of discussion.  

“Why did I give you that knight statue?” She asked, curiosity having gotten the better of her.

Enver was surprised, but he recovered quickly. He glanced over his shoulder at the knight and then back to her. Suspicion darkened his eyes.

“You said you didn’t remember anything.”

“I don’t,” Feravel said defensively. “Well, I didn’t. I mean, it’s only a few pieces here and there. It’s complicated. I didn’t remember things before but...now sometimes I get feelings about things? And when I saw the statue, it was familiar. Then I saw it, in my mind, on a desk with a dagger. You thanked me.”

He watched her, assessing her and her truthfulness.

“You said you thought of me so you took it. I designed the steel watch aesthetic based off it.”

Feravel didn’t know what to say. An insignificant trinket and she’d felt compelled to give it to him. The same feeling that told her it was his told her the statue wasn’t a stationary model, but that the limbs could be manipulated -tinkered with. She could almost feel the smoothness of its armor and hear the soft clicking as she positioned it. The thought came to her in her own voice,  He does like tinkering with those odds and ends in his workshop.

“Have you remembered anything else?”

Enver’s tone was sanguine, but when Feravel tore her gaze from the statue she saw him looking at her attentively.

“Well…” She swallowed. Her thoughts went to the night of the coronation. Kissing Gale in front of the fire and then dreaming of doing the same with Enver. A flush crept up around her throat. His expression was expectant. “Nothing, important.”

Enver’s eyebrow arched, but let it go and didn't question her further though he burned to know. She chewed on the inside of her cheek anxiously. Now that she was free she should be trying to escape. Instead, she asked. “Tell me something about me?”

“What sort of thing?” He responded curiously.

Feravel strode over to an armchair beside the fire and took a seat. She wasn’t sure about what she was doing, but something in her wanted to know. Had she been sweet? Normal, even slightly, once? What made a man like him love someone like her? Their relationship seemed so contrary to the image she'd conjured of her former self.

“Something…ordinary?” She posed, then added. “Was I more than a Bhaalspawn?”

Enver watched her thoughtfully from where she'd left him.

“You've always been more than your title. You had a penchant for pretty things. Not necessarily expensive or flashy, but the easy beauty of the world.”

“Pretty things?” She asked a tad incredulously.

He chuckled as he strode back into her field of view. Enver went to stand beside the armchair across from the fire from Feravel, resting an arm on its winged back.

"Don't expect the child of the lord of murder to appreciate anything besides blood and death?" He teased. "I certainly wouldn't have before I met you. It was odd to me at first the sort of things you took. At one point I even considered you might have a collection of mementos from your victims, but you didn’t do it every time. Eventually, I realized it was just things you liked.”

“Like what?” Feravel interjected.

“All sorts.” He said. “Ribbons, flowers, art, shoes…a little knight statue.”

Enver paused then added. “There was a fine black velvet embroidered jacket that appeared in my wardrobe once.”

“I collected things. And gave you gifts...?”

“You did -on occasion." He gave her a fond smile before abandoning the armchair. She turned in her seat to watch him at the table they’d eaten at a few nights ago. It now held a bottle of amber spirits and a pair of glasses which Enver set about pouring himself a drink from as he continued. “Once I realized what you liked, I left things where you’d find them. A few things appeared in their place, the jacket I mentioned for example.”

Was it just the urge that had turned her into a murderous monster then? Before her brain had been scrambled, she'd lived with it for so long that it changed her but now it was like she'd been reinvigorated against its darkness. 

“And the knight?” She asked.

Enver sipped from his glass before turning to look at her again.

“It was the first thing you gave me.” He said. Then chuckled. “Directly at least.”

Feravel furrowed her brow.

“I had seen this bracelet. It was only copper, but the smith had done truly elegant work. I always meant to go back and have a ring made to match it.”

He cleared his throat.

“Anyway, you brought gave me the knight and a ‘freebie’ two days later.”

Feravel hardly heard the latter half of his words over the sound of her heart beating out of her chest at the realization that she knew the bracelet he was speaking about. It had been on her wrist when she woke up on the beach. She remembered absentmindedly fiddling with it for comfort as she fell asleep the first several nights. It was beautiful but at the beginning of their journey, they hadn’t any supplies. She’d felt conflicted about selling it at the time but hadn't understood why. It was just a copper trinket. The trader in the grove had given her a fair price.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She was hurrying to wipe it away and didn’t notice Enver had come over to her offering a glass of the amber liquid. Feravel accepted it, taking a drink.

“I was wearing it when I woke up. The necromancer at moonrise…she left it on me.”

Quick as a whip, Enver cut off anything else Feravel might’ve said. “You were at moonrise?”

The firelight cast a dark shadow over a good portion of his face affecting a foreboding look. 

“Uh yeah. We just-“

Enver cut her off impatiently. “That’s where Orin took you?”

Feravel’s expression darkened. She hadn’t meant to mention what she’d learned in the mindflayer colony under the tower, but it had just slipped out. Thinking about the mutilation and pain she’d suffered there was too difficult to stomach. Despite not having any memory of it, the necromancer's gushing delight in discussing it had been repulsive. All Feravel could muster in the way of a response was a curt nod. Enver’s previously soft expression twisted into an ugly scowl at her confirmation.

“I had assumed she took your body to the temple of Bhaal…” He trailed off.

A wave of irritation coursed through Feravel and she couldn’t help the word vomit that followed.

“Yes well she in fact was more sadistic even than I possibly gave her credit for. You’d know better than me though.” Feravel snapped. “Orin scrambled my brain, unmade me, and then left me there after she put a tadpole in my head. But so lucky I was to have such a skilled -or especially sadistic, depending on your perspective- necromancer around to ‘piece me back together’. One I surely picked. If I’d known her skills would be put to use on me, I think I would’ve picked a poorer one. The necromancer- she experimen- defiled…”

Feravel swallowed hard. She cast a glance at Enver then and saw that he was stock still. The only indication he was even listening to her as he stared blankly into the flames was the white-knuckled grip on his glass.

Feravel’s tone was more measured when she added. “I killed her.”

Enver’s jaw twitched.

“Good.”

After a beat or two, she was unable to stand the silence and changed the subject.

"I'd forgotten about the bracelet..." Feravel said. "But now I wonder if she had some idea about it and was taunting me. I'm not sure how though..."

She trailed off. In her mind, she could see the pod where she'd been held prisoner. Blood spattered on the inside of the door and the necromancer's tools on the table nearby. There was no reason she shouldn't have taken the bracelet. It wasn't worth much, but Feravel had been stripped of everything else.

"Forgotten?" Enver asked. "You said you woke up with it."

He glanced towards Feravel's wrists only to be dispirited at finding them bare. Guilt at an action she couldn't possibly have understood the consequence of roiled through her. Sighing, Feravel shook her head in frustration. 

"Well, I did, but you have to understand..." She got to her feet and headed towards the table he'd abandoned the bottle on. With her back to him, it was easier to continue. "I didn't remember anything when I first came to. And-" Feravel sighed, squeezing her eyes closed momentarily. "A girl's got to eat."

Silence.

"They left me with nothing. Just the soiled clothes on my back -and in retrospect, those likely weren't even mine! The others...they had their possessions they'd been taken with at least. All I had were visions of carnage. I didn't think I could mean anything to someone then if my mind was so full of violence. The shadow of you didn't come to me for days. And by then I'd already sold-"

Abruptly Feravel was spun around and Enver was there looking down into her hazel eyes with an unreadable stare. Briefly, she thought he might be angry, but when he spoke his manner was measured and controlled.

"I forgive you -if that's what you needed to hear."

Feravel let out a breath she hadn't recognized she was holding. He raised a hand to her hair toying with the pieces of hair that had escaped her braids. It made her acutely aware suddenly that his other hand rested comfortably at her waist.  She couldn't resist closing her eyes as Enver stroked his fingers reverently through her hair pulling it down from its buns. The strands tumbled down around her shoulders in disarray as her hair had already been a mess, but he didn't seem bothered by it. He continued to comb his fingers through her hair absently gently working through any knots he came across. The sensation was so soothing that Feravel couldn't help exhaling a faint sigh of contentment. Once he'd finished one side of her head, Enver rested that hand at the base of her neck allowing her to lean into him as he went to work on the other. 

When he finished, they were both still and quiet. Feravel didn't dare open her eyes and break the spell of serenity his ministrations had cast over her. Though she was still keenly aware of how close he was, so close she could taste the scent of the bourbon on his breath.

Leaning forward wasn't a choice she consciously made, but the feeling of his lips against hers was almost a relief. The moment their lips met, Enver's hand was there cupping her jaw drawing her into a deeper kiss. Any common sense Feravel might've had slipped away as he caressed her with his thumb. She wrapped her arms around his neck automatically pulling him down as much as she could whilst standing up on her tiptoes. Enver made a soft sound of what she was sure to be satisfaction, but she didn't care just then. Their kiss became more fervent from that point with Enver's hand leaving her jaw to roam over her curves reacquainting himself with her. Meanwhile, Feravel's nails dragged over his scalp causing him to groan with pleasure and grip her thigh hard as he slid his hand down it. Everywhere he touched left a sizzling heat behind which had her feeling weak.

He stooped slightly to grab her behind the knees and scoop her up causing her to automatically wrap her legs around his waist. The next thing she knew her back was up against the wall and he was kissing down her neck. Feravel let out a gasp.

This escalated quickly. Too quickly. What was she doing?

"Enver."

He moaned against her neck and slid his hands up the back of her thighs. Feravel couldn't help moaning softly as well in response as he pressed himself against her. But they shouldn't be doing this.

" Enver ."

"Fera."

Her name on his lips was so sinful that she almost gave in. It wasn't fast at all. He knew her, all of her so intimately. His grip on her was firm and steadying. How many times before had they done this? They were meant to be together. It felt so right. She let out a quavering breath. A wave of pleasure washed over her as he rocked his hips against her with more urgency. Bursts of hot breath swept over her chest as his open-mouthed kisses reached her collarbone. His calloused hand slipped under her shirt exposing the skin beneath to cold stone sending a jolt of reality directly to her brain.

"Gortash!" She said sharply.

And Enver stilled immediately then slowly drew back enough so he could see her face. His expression was unreadable.

"We can't..." She trailed off.

Fire ignited in his dark eyes. "And why shouldn't we?"

"For starters? There's Ga-"

"If you mention that wizard to me. I will have him dragged from that tavern and executed right now." Enver said darkly.

And she knew he meant it.

Anger flared in Feravel and she pushed Enver hard in the chest knocking him off balance enough that he had to release her or risk falling. Enver was forced to stagger a step back in his effort to keep his footing. Feravel ended up scrambling to catch herself and avoid falling into a heap on the floor. 

"You'll do no such thing!" She snapped as she righted herself.

Enver glowered at her, but his voice was steady. "And who's to stop me, my dear?"

Feravel clenched her teeth.

"I am the archduke. He's nobody. All of you are. You may think you're here to play the hero, but let me be the one to disabuse you of that notion. You have some powers to resist the brain, but that means nothing in the face of the power I wield in this city. Your little group walks free by my good grace. Because of my affection. For.  You .”

"I don't even know you!" Feravel exclaimed. "It's just fragments! And this feeling... I don’t know but I love Gale."

Enver's fingers balled into a fist and she thought he might be about to hit something, but he didn’t. He drew in several measured breaths before fixing his posture and speaking in a deceptively relaxed tone.

"As you say, but know if he sets foot in this fort, I will kill him."

Feravel furrowed her brow.

Enver continued. "You want to play this little scenario of yours out, fine. I won't hinder you."

"Scenario? What are you even talking about?" She snapped. 

Enver stalked away. Irritation emanated off of him in palpable waves even from across the room. He went to the table and poured a drink. "This distraction with the wizard."

"Distraction?" She repeated numbly.

Enver lifted his eyebrows and raised his drink for a sip, but it never made it to his lips because she’d walked up and slapped it out of his hand. Bourbon splashed against the wall and glass rained down the stone.

"For your information, Gortash, that distraction is my life."

He sighed. "Stop acting like a child, Feravel."

"A child? Stop acting like an arrogant prick then!" She raged.

"This isn't your life. This was a mistake. You should've been here all along, but we can recitfy that now. Join me." He reasoned.

Join me.

It set off a reaction in her mind as the phrase rattled around bouncing off other times he’d said it.  A proposition, job, invitation, request, partnership, demand.  All moments she could only grasp the essence of. Any sense of full understanding was impossible though they were like smoke through a screen.

Feravel pressed her lips into a firm line to prevent a verbal outburst of the frustration she felt.

“I can’t.” She said finally.

Enver tapped his finger on the table.

“You want to.” He asserted.

Deflecting, Feravel said. “We can be allies. But we’re going to destroy the brain.”

Enver balked. “We’ll discuss the matter further once you have Orin’s Netherstone.”

Feravel narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’ll not be giving up the plans I swore to you to carry out -with or without you- as easy as that.”

“I guess it’ll be a tense negotiation then,” Feravel said flippantly.

She was unable to respond though because a sudden pain shot through her temple and a voice entered her mind.

"Fera?" Gale's tone was that of suppressed anxiety. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

Before her, she saw their floor in the Elfsong shrouded in thick darkness. Gale was sitting up squinting at her empty bed through the darkness. She could feel his nerves, his tense need to connect. He wasn't just searching the room for her. Fear flooded through her that he might be seeing what she was and Feravel shut down her side of the connection as firmly as she could.

"Feravel?"

Gale's anxiety spiked at the rebuff and likely the taste of fear he got before her wall came up.

"I'm fine." She responded.

"Feravel?" Enver's voice.

"Shut up."

Hands on her shoulders. Two pairs of brown eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to focus on one conversation at a time.

"Where are you?"

"Trying to find a way into the fort."

Feravel tamped down the guilt she felt at the lie for fear he'd sense it.

"In this weather? I thought you'd been kidnapped!"

She sighed audibly.

"I'm fine Gale. I'll be back. I need to focus."

She almost thought he'd abandoned the connection but then his voice came again.

"Are you safe?"

"Yes."

"If I don't hear from you in an hour, I'm going to wake Astarion."

She cursed.

"I'll be on my way back before then."

And Feravel pulled herself out of the connection.

Blinking a few times as she readjusted to the flicker of the firelight, Feravel found herself seated back in the armchair with Enver kneeling before her. His brow was creased as he surveyed her with a look of mild concern. Heaving a sigh Feravel made to rub her eyes but found her hands captive in his larger ones.

"What was that?" he asked sternly.

Pursing her lips, Feravel planned on telling him to buzz off, but the look in his eye made her pause.

"Tadpal things...if you must know."

"Oh." He sounded strangely disappointed.

"Anyway." She went to pull her hands away, but he didn't let go. "I've got to go."

She tried to stand, but he followed her up still holding her hands.

"Gortash." Feravel said warningly.

"Enver." He corrected.

Warmth flooded her chest. "Enver. Whatever."

He smirked amused. "Fera."

"What?" She hadn't meant to snap, but the way he said her name made her flustered.

Enver puckered his lips as if for a kiss prompting Feravel to scoff. He laughed.

"Don't be so shy my dear."

She rolled her eyes and pulled her hands back sharply. Ignoring the satisfied look on his face, Feravel went to step around him in the direction of the door but he cut her off. Taking her by the waist,

Enver pulled her close and leaned down to her level.

"No need to be sour. I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just one to seal our newfound alliance."

Feravel narrowed her eyes gauging his seriousness. Unconsciously, she wet her lips. Before she could make any protestation, Enver swooped down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"Goodnight."

She huffed and pushed away stalking off towards the door without looking back. Outside the fort, she was grateful for the chilly rain on her flushed cheeks. As she started walking Feravel opened the tadpole connection with Gale sending the quick message that she was safe and on her way back.

------

Notes: This was just supposed to be Feravel learning more about her past, but durgetash things. Next one of these is gonna be pre-tadpole lobotomy and hopefully more durge-y. I've got several ideas, but I'm a tad nervous about my Bhaalspawn portrayal. So wish me luck guys.

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga chapters 193-4 Review

Introduction

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, and before you know it, a year has gone by.

I have been putting off writing reviews about One Punch Man, and currently, I believe my last review was Heroes, which was chapter 192. That was a while ago. I have been waiting to see how this now intricate story was going to develop, and it has not disappointed me. However, I need to start or be forever buried, so while it isn't perfect, I am starting with chapters 193, and 194, 'Worlds I know nothing about' and 'Right away', respectively.

Summary

In brief, it starts with Saitama dealing with the sort of situation only he can: a dire, potentially world-ending threat that would take the greatest of heroes many sacrifices to counter. And he does it without breaking a sweat. Indeed, then he gets out of it to have a bit of fun chasing after artefacts as if he is in an Anime series.

While recounting the story to King, a knock at the door interrupted him. The knocker turned out to be Flashy Flash, and Saitama shut the door on him, remarking to King that the visitor seemed annoying.

Flashy Flash had mentioned the magic word disciple, and this word quickly brought Genus out of his apartment. He challenged Flashy to explain why he was at Saitama's door, and when the latter refused, a fight broke out. Saitama rushed out and asked Genos to desist before he broke his new apartment, much to Flashy Flash's disdain and amusement. Flashy was much less amused when it turned out that Saitama didn't remember his name, calling him Shoulder Blade Crush after much mind-racking.

Or Clavicle Smash. Close enough.

Nevertheless, he invited himself into the apartment and started to explain his business. He wanted Saitama to join him in finding Manako and to become his disciple, as he saw the bald man as a person full of potential in need of training. Genos wasn't done, though: he had been listening through a tunnel that he had dug between their apartments. He refused to permit Saitama to become Flash's disciple and invited himself in, stating that he knew all about the God affair, which was true.

Saitama tricked Flash into leaving the apartment by pretending to follow him, and an enraged Flash kicked down the door and challenged Saitama to a fight.

The next chapter carries on where the last one left off. We find ourselves in a training room where Flash explains the terms of the bout. If Saitama can land a blow on him within 30 minutes, then he will leave him alone. No sooner does he say 'begin' than Saitama is already in his face. Realizing that he has no hope of winning if he holds back, Flash unleashes his best moves only to fight himself, quickly cornered and about to see his light knocked out.

He is rescued by Genos, who has been checking his phone while this bout has been going on. There's been a monster alert, and he'd interrupted to let Saitama know that it was close by, so they might as well attend to it. A shaken Flashy Flash tags along, trying to cover up his fear with bravado.

Over in E-City, the situation turns out to be quite The Party. We see three heroes try to do their best against three Monsters but they assume overcome and kicked away. Sonic is first to the party. He urges the monsters to ignore him as he is waiting for the guest of honour. The monsters do not like this but before they can attack, Saitama, Genos, and Flashy Flash arrive. Saitama Sonic expected, but Flash he did not. Before he can digest this, more partygoers arrive: Gale Wind and Hellfire Flame. They urge Sonic to join them in eliminating Flashy, to which he refuses, saying that the cell that they gave him was rotten.

Getting crowded...

While all this backchat is going on, the monsters get increasingly impatient at being ignored and try to attack all: a lethal mistake as they are shortly killed. Sonic goes to attack Saitama, Flash goes to attack the ninjas, and Genos ends the monsters, punching them to pieces and then burning their corpses up before the pieces have finished hitting the ground. The ninjas flee after leaving a decoy for Flash to dismember, and we see that Sonic has been smacked into a hole in the ground.

After all the excitement, Saitama asks to be left in peace to find Manako on his own. He says that he does not want to be a teacher, disciple, or a rival to anyone. Unfortunately, the trio misunderstand him and try to encourage him to have confidence in himself in their own ways. Saitama texts King to come over and play video games. While playing, he asks King if he has seen a monster that looks like the sketch Flashy Flash showed him, and King says that it looks familiar. They head to the place where King had seen Manako earlier and successfully trap her using a plate of curry rice. She is all too glad to be brought back to civilization and fed, much to both Genos's and Flash's surprises.

Flash, realising that she doesn't actually know much about 'God', decides that it's probably best if they consult Blast. He, Saitama, and Manako head off to see Sicchi about seeking an audience with Blast, only to find that the great man himself is already there.

Meta

Small things

Saitama really is a misplaced One Piece character: the world of fantastic adventures, treasures to collect, monsters to summon, and companions to travel with that he desperately wants to inhabit is all around him. He's just so strong that it all bounces off his head. Literally, in some cases.

Nice to see that some heroes have been rewarded with promotions. Heavy Kong has been promoted from A-Class Rank 34 to 33, and Peach Terry from A Rank 30 to 29. Bone has had the best bump: he's gone from B-Class 77 to 57. Guess that full-body fracture wasn't in vain! [Also, damn, how fast do heroes HEAL?]

It's interesting that Genos hasn't spammed rocket-boosted anything since his return. Today, he's practising his punches, and for once, he's not solely head-hunting! Progress at last.

Saitama being able to stop Genos at a single word: neat but not surprising. Genos being able to stop Saitama with a single well-timed 'Sensei!': more surprising. Those two have each other's ear.

The number of defeats Sonic has suffered at Saitama's hands. Three is right if you're counting what we've seen on screen. Six if you're also accounting for bonus material, that time Sonic slipped on dogshit, and audio books. Fourteen? Well, Sonic can't be faulted for lack of determination!

Manako is indeed not a regular monster: she nearly starved out there. Her dependence on cooked food is pretty human -- like termites and some species of ants, humans are unable to sustain themselves off raw food and need to process it to extract enough energy from food to survive.

More substantial things

This is where the first set of our major long-running threads starts to twist together to form a rope. I had wondered back in chapter 173 (Secret Intel) if the payoff for seeing the heroes sharing what intelligence they had on 'God' would be so long paying off that we'd need a major flashback to recall it. I needn't have feared! The links between the cubes Blast collected, the Ninja Village, and 'God' start to become clearer.

Like a name almost recalled, something had been nagging at Flashy Flash since the discussion at the secret meeting. He'd tried to recruit Saitama to help him find Manako, who he hoped would help him piece together the story. That wasn't too useful, but the ninja duo helped him place where he'd seen the cube before, and now things are falling into place. With Blast having conveniently shown up, he's now in a position to clarify things.

Yeah, yeah, the 'God' character in the webcomic appears rather indolent, content to wait his turn as the end-of-story villain. The guy in the manga is much more impatient. Gotta problem with that? Tough. He's in a hurry to deal with the problem of Saitama.

Hehe, the ninja duo truly never had a chance. I start to understand why they took monster cells in hopes of slaying Flashy Flash. Poor turkeys.

Now that I'm reading this with the benefit of time passing, I'm looking forward to rereading and reviewing the next couple of chapters. This is coming together nicely.

[aptericia]

I commissioned @sazuka57 for these WONDERFUL pixel sprites of Shang Bu-Huan and Lin Xue-Ya from Thunderbolt Fantasy in the style of the Octopath Traveler series!

A while back, I had created information for them as if they were NPCs in OT2 (season 3 of tbf introduces interdimensional travel, after all!), and I was considering posting them when I decided I really wanted some visuals too. Sazuka did a spectacular job with them (their poses?? all the details on their incredibly complicated outfits?? aaaaah) and was super friendly and easy to work with!

Info below the cut:

Traveling Swordsman (Shang Bu-Huan)

Strength: 10

Skills: Formless Rogue Sword (1-3 highly powerful sword attacks on all foes), Qi Punch (strong physical attack, chance to lower opponent’s physical defense), Qi Healing (restore a small amount of HP to a single ally and remove their status ailments), Attack (Sword)

Information:

Age: 46 Details: After making one too many enemies in his home country, he fled with the intent to rid himself of his burdens. Unfortunately for him, he has so far only managed to acquire even more burdens, such as the enigmatic young man who followed him to Solista. Information Gleaned: None

Items:

Formless Sword (Sword; Phys. Atk +1, Speed +45, Evasion +45) Umbrella (fetches a modest price if sold)

Summon (x4):

Business Partners: Lucky Break (Have a 1% chance to receive purchases for free) Dance Session: Gentle Rhythm (Restore a small amount of HP to the target)

Battle:

Weaknesses: Dagger, Bow, Ice, Wind Shields: 7 Item Drop: Fool's Leaf Learned Skills: Formless Rogue Sword (consume all your SP, then unleash a sword attack on all foes proportional to the amount of SP consumed)

Path actions:

Inquire: Lv. 40 Guide: Lv. 65 Challenge: Lv. 30 Befriend: Stone-Roasted Rice x15 Soothe: Herb of Serenity x1 Ambush: Lv. 60 Hire: $65,000 Coerce: 5 shields Bribe: $5,000

Mysterious Man (Lin Xue-Ya)

Strength: 10

Skills: Misty Veil (cause a single foe’s next 2 physical attacks to miss), Smoke Pipe (Confuse a single foe for 5-7 turns), Empoison, Panacea

Information:

Age: unknown Details: Pretends to be a humble traveler, or whatever other role suits the occasion, but in reality is a master thief known as the “Enigmatic Gale”. Switching from villain to hero at the drop of a hat, his true intentions are impossible to know. He came from a faraway land in pursuit of a certain swordsman he has taken an interest in. Information Gleaned: None

Items:

Bottle of Befuddling Dust Herb Elixir Revitalizing Jam Herb of Serenity

Summon (x3):

Business Partners: Silver Tongue (Receive 20% off purchases) Dance Session: Bewildering Ballad (Cause a curious effect to occur 1 time)

Battle:

Weaknesses: Staff, Dark Shields: 5 Item Drop: Refreshing Jam Learned Skills: Misty Veil (cause a single foe's next 1/2/3/4 physical attacks to miss) (20 SP)

Path actions:

Inquire: Lv. 20 Guide: Lv. 30 Challenge: Lv. 40 Befriend: Octopath Bowl x3 Soothe: Herb of Serenity x3 Ambush: Lv. 60 Hire: $30,000 Coerce: 6 shields Bribe: $3,000

[ponder-the-orb]

Broken Things: Prologue

Pairing: Fem Tav (named)/Gale

Chapter Tags: Post-Canon, Mystra,

Future Tags: Angst, Major character death, dealing with trauma, hurt/some comfort, Happy ending (I promise), Whole lotta Tara

Prologue word count: 300 words

Basically I had a lot of feelings about what would happen if the orb destabilised post-game and thus this fic was planned.

(The angst starts with chapter one.)

Read below or on AO3.

***

Tireless is her work. 

With practised hands she spins the weave, feels ten thousand mages rip its seams, then winds it back until it is whole once more. Rosewater and spice perfume the air. It’s the scent of magic, of her– something all but imbued into the very fabric of her skin since she’d been granted her task. 

Again the strands break. Again she knits them back. Over and over and over again– as deft as a bard with their lute.

It’s perpetual, but such is the duty of the Mother of Magic.

Prayers steeped in gold prod at the edges of her realm: ‘Empower me. Save me. Succour me. Show me the truth beneath your veils.’

She ignores the trifles and rewards her faithful, smiling as new threads burst forth from below. The creation of new magic– a gift from her most devoted archmages. She guides each piece to its place within the weave, tastes the fire and the force, as perfect and malleable to her as a freshly-borne babe.

Something brushes her finger as she shapes each sliver. One tiny thread flaps free, wavering and stretching out continuously into the mortal plane. She wraps it around her hands, scoffing as she feels the foul blight that still so greedily feeds upon her creation.

Karsus’ half-formed abomination. The thorn that still pricks her side with each turn of her hands.

She plucks the thread and hears her mandate: Unleash it. Tear down the heart of this false God. Re-earn your place in my paradise. Another pluck and a newer charge sings out: Deliver what should be mine and let your failures be washed away.

They flutter sour on her tongue, as expired as her patience on this matter.

One flick of her wrist and the tether snaps. Broken pieces fly in jubilant colours, each she guides back to the weave, now immaculate once again. 

A hungry cry brays from far below, then another, quiet as air. Mortal. She whispers the noise away and turns back to her work.

A promise broken. A price paid. Such is the nature of the weave, so too is the nature of her mercy.

***

Next chapter

Delving into Mystra's lore and how the weave actually works was more fun than I thought.

Updates will be posted on my AO3 and promoted here.

I have a LOT of angst I need to get out so please read all the tags on AO3 and when chapters are posted.

Also thank you to everyone who voted on my fic poll! Astarion will have to wait until next time

[wvoonie]

彡ㅤ𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆ㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤ( kōri no kokyū )

(氷 の呼吸 )ㅤㅤ✦ㅤㅤ𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐂𝐄

᯽

➳ ㅤ Requested by : @dukechoijiwoo

៸៸

ꕤ — origins . Derived from Water breathing and wind breathing

𔓕ㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤCreator.

( N/A )

𔓕ㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤHistory.

(N/A)

𔓕ㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤNichirin type.

A white nichirin katana that fades to an icy blue at the tip.

𔓕ㅤㅤKnown techniques.

Ice breathing has 5 known techniques

៸៸

First form: Raging Hail

— the user leaps and unleashes a series of downward slashes towards the opponent/s. Usually the user visualises storming hail.

Second form: Gales of Wind Frost

— The user unleashes a powerful sideways slash, leaving the opponent as if frozen.

Third form: Frozen Bloodshed

— The user performers a series of non-stop thrusts while visualising icicles piercing through the opponent.

Fourth Form: Cage of the Ice dragon

— The user encircles the confused target before performing a slash to the neck.

Fifth form: Revenge of the Ice Spirit

— The user unleashes a piercing thrust to the opponent/s' throat before twisting the katana and slashing through the target's neck.

Credit @love-stvrs if you use || do not steal or repost || divider by @rookthornesartistry

( this is my first time writing a breathing style so forgive me if it's short n rlly bad T^T )

[converse-luke]

WIP Wednesday

Yeah I’m back with more of my Cazador Wins au because I’m dying to share some more of it. Tagging @acestarion-panic so you see it because your tags on the older sections I’ve shared made me really excited to work on this fic.

If anyone has questions about this wip feel free to message me or send me an ask!

The falsity he constructed is still there. It’s been waiting ever since he first left. “You,” Gale begins, stalking towards it. “Did you honestly believe that I lied about loving you?” He wishes this could be a fight. “I meant it then and I mean it now. I love you!” There is no response. There can’t be a response. “Damn you Astarion! I would have told you a thousand times over if given the chance! You can’t have died thinking you weren’t loved.” Tears hit the Weave. “Damn you for making me want to live again and then dying. I love you. I always will. I don’t know if I can save you but I’m going to try.” Mystra’s presence grows in the back of his mind and the image of Astarion disappears. What once was a comforting weight upon his shoulders is now a tight noose. Gale flees the Weave.

He’s still sitting on the floor but his cheeks are now wet. Gale wipes at them and neatly tucks the empty box and note back in the hollowed out book. The book he was looking for, The Hells Unleashed, is under at least ten different copies of A Pleasurable Deal. Still sitting on the floor, Gale cracks it open, flipping to the chapter on Cania.

There isn’t much in there that Gale doesn’t already know from light reading as a student. He snaps the book shut and discards it, raking a hand through his hair. Maybe it’s his frustration manifesting, or grief tricking him, but Gale is certain that he feels the orb pulling his attention towards his pack.

His pack, where the Annals of Karsus sits, unread. Like so many things, there had been no time to look into it. But now, while they are taking the time to heal and grieve, the book is as alluring as a harpy’s song. Gale rises from the floor with creaking knees, pulling his pack to him. The red and gold book is tucked behind one of his extra robes, the orb practically sings at the sight of it. Gale pulls it out, fingers reverently tracing over the rebound spine.

Astarion hadn’t wanted to give it to him. He’d been ready to push back even more until Gale held out a hand expectantly. Gale hadn’t been kind about asking for the book a second time. If he had known it was one of Astarion’s final hours…

If he had known he would have done so many things differently.

But he didn’t and the regret is eating at him faster than the orb ever could. Gale opens the tome. The magic that pours from it is like being hit with a gust of wind. It is so different from the magic he knows, there is no safety in it, only power and opportunity. But the crown, oh the crown. With that not only could he bring Astarion back, but he could give him the ability to walk in the sun again.

Gale could make them both gods.

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Shadows of Grief

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 5,041

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav encounters a familiar face among the shadows. Part 28 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: If you were heartbroken at the end of the last chapter I have good news!! it gets worse.

“Tev?” Tav called out to him again.

She fell back onto the damp soil, staring in horror at the twisted version of her brother before her. Time seemed to slow down, her ears were ringing and the tears in her eyes blurred her vision. All of the air had been knocked from her lungs, making her chest heavy with grief as she gasped to catch her breath. The sight of Tev’aron consumed her, causing her trap of vines to disappear and allow the other enemies to approach unimpeded.

“Tav? TAV! What is she doing?!” She could hear Karlach trying to get her attention but couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes off Tev.

“I’ve got it,” Gale yelled back as he unleashed a massive line of lightning through most of the shadows.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it was all an illusion. A trick of the light, a cruel amalgam of her tired mind and the shadows stirring around her. Anything but this.

But when she opened them again, Tev’s twisted, snarling corpse had stood up once more and was stalking his way toward her. She looked up with pleading eyes, hoping that somehow she could still reason with this cursed shell of a man, that her brother was still in there somewhere.

Before she knew it, a flurry of jabs caused Tev’s body to fall to the ground, completely lifeless. With it, the small beacon of hope she had sheltered and kept lit for a hundred years – through winds and storms and gloom – was snuffed out in an instant.

“What in the hells was that Tav?!” Astarion yelled, standing above her. He was breathing heavily as he sheathed his daggers. Their other companions focused on taking down the last few enemies.

Tav didn’t respond, she just crawled over to Tev’s body and began to sob, laying her head on his chest. Every ounce of grief and sorrow she had locked away over the last century came crashing down on her. With a growling scream, she grabbed a nearby rock and hurled it into the darkness in front of them, desperate to relieve the despair she felt welling up inside of her.

“Fuck! Fuck this fucking curse! Fuck these shadows!” She sobbed and gagged in between the screams. “FUCK!”

She stood up and continued to grab anything she could find to throw – rocks, bones, clumps of dirt – screaming and cursing until her voice was hoarse and her lungs couldn’t take in enough air to make a sound.

Her companions moved out of the way to give her space, concern and confusion apparent on all their faces. Exhausted, she collapsed back down on the ground and lifted Tev up to hold his head against her chest. It had been a hundred years since she had seen his face. To see him like this now…

“Tev…I’m so sorry…” She whispered her sobbing apology over and over as her tears soaked into his matted curls. Her hands gently stroked his hair, pushing stray pieces from his face.

“Tav?” Astarion’s voice was much softer now.

She still couldn’t respond; she kept sobbing into his hair until her entire torso ached from the guttural cries. Her body rocked back and forth, knuckles turning white from gripping his body so tight. A warm, golden light shone behind her, and a moment later a pair of large arms wrapped around her shoulders. Halsin pulled her close to him as she clutched Tev against her chest.

“He deserved better than this,” she choked out with gasping breaths.

“I know, Tav. They all did,” he whispered against her temple.

“Who is he?” Gale asked quietly.

“Tev’aron…my brother.” She could barely get the words out before another wave of sobs took over her. “To think he’s been here all this time…”

“His suffering has ended now. He can be at peace.” Halsin tried to assure her.

“Peace? There’s no peace here. Look around you!” She was yelling again, unable to control her rising temper. “All hope and light have abandoned this place. What chance do we have against it?”

He recoiled slightly at her harsh words, adding a layer of guilt to her grief.

“We still have a chance, Tav. I have to believe that, and I think you do too.” She buried her head further into his chest. He placed one of his hands over hers, helping her hold Tev’s body up.

“I can’t leave him here,” she whispered as she stroked Tev’s cheek.

“Here, soldier. Let me.” Karlach had come over to kneel next to her, tear lines staining her cheeks. She held out her arms and helped lift his body off the ground. “We can at least give him a proper burial, yeah?”

Tav nodded, still sniffling, tears continuing to fall down her face. She allowed Karlach to take her brother’s body into her arms. Halsin helped her stand up, one arm around her shoulders to steady her. Gale appeared on her other side, offering an arm for her to take.

They made the short walk back to their camp where Karlach carefully set Tev’s body on the ground at the edge of the small clearing. Tav sat down next to him and reached out to hold one of his hands. She ran her other hand over his hollow, sunken cheeks. The feel of his cold skin brought more tears to her eyes, he was always so warm. His tattoo was just barely visible beneath the dirt and grime coating his entire body, the tattoo that they had gotten together after she joined the Harpers. At some point, Lunari had made her way over to her, resting her head in Tav’s lap with a low whine.

She could hear the others quietly explaining what happened to the rest of the party. Their words were soft enough that she couldn’t make out the details, but she didn’t care. 

Karlach came to sit with her after a while, putting a warm arm around her shoulders.

“I’m really sorry, soldier. I wish I could have met him.” Karlach sniffled with her words.

“You would have liked each other, I think. He always did have a weakness for the tough ones. You would have had him wrapped around your finger the moment he saw you throw a goblin across the room.” Tav smiled weakly as she leaned into Karlach.

“I like the sound of that. That means we could have been sisters, you and me.” Karlach gave a light laugh.

“We don’t need Tev for that. I’m happy to call you my sister anyway.” The tears in Tav’s eyes spilled over again. “I think I could use a sister right about now.”

She hugged Karlach tighter, grateful for the extra warmth. They sat there together for a while, Tav telling stories from their childhood. How Tev always snuck her extra fruit tarts, and how he was the one who first taught her how to use a bow. She told Karlach about the day the curse was released, how she and Tev had been separated for weeks due to the fighting.

Eventually, Halsin joined them. He knelt on the other side of Tav and took one of her hands.

“We’re ready when you are, my friend. Let us help you give him peace.” He helped her stand as Karlach picked Tev up again.

They joined the rest of their companions just outside of the camp, a small grave had been dug into the dirt in front of them. Tav took a deep, shaky breath and followed Karlach over to them. She took a moment to whisper one final goodbye in Tev’s ear, giving him a soft kiss on the top of his head.

As Karlach moved to set him down, a small piece of parchment in his jacket pocket caught her eye. She quickly snatched the envelope. It was a letter with a name scribbled on the front.

Ria M.

She took the letter and held it against her chest before stashing it in her pocket. She didn’t have the strength to read it here and now.

Slowly, Karlach lowered Tev into the narrow grave. The others had a light sheet to place over his body. As the thin fabric fell over his head, the tears came back with a vengeance as she realized that it was truly the last time she would see his face. Gale appeared at her side, presenting her with a shovel. With shaking hands, she took the tool from him and scooped up a small pile of dirt.

“Beneath the sun. Beneath the moon,” she began in Elvish as she dumped the shovel full of dirt into the grave.

“My spirit like leaves, blown far to sea. I sail away to night eternal.” More dirt covering his body as Tav’s hands began to work furiously to shovel the soft soil over him.

“Do not mourn.” Her voice caught on the words, the tears running down her cheeks to mix with the dirt stuck there. Her breathing became more and more ragged each time she drove the shovel into the ground.

“I shall be reborn...”

Tav’s hands slipped along the handle of the shovel, causing her to fall to the ground. She stayed kneeling there, clutching the shovel against her as she sobbed.

“Yet my heart shall always be with you.” Halsin finished the prayer as he took the shovel from her and moved in another batch of dirt. The others took turns moving the rest of it. They all helped her place rocks along the top to protect the fresh grave.

Tav knelt at the edge of her brother’s final resting place. The heartbreak she felt was unlike any she had experienced before, paralyzing her, making her numb to the cool evening air. Halsin placed a comforting hand on her shoulder causing her to lean into his touch.

“I’m sorry my friend, but I must make haste to Last Light. If I can speak with the Flaming Fist there, I may be able to find a way for us to be rid of these shadows forever.” His voice was so hopeful, she hated how bitter it made her feel.

“Of course. I’m sure a couple of the others would be happy to help get you back there.” She tried to smile at him even as her lips trembled. He gave her a puzzled look in response, like he had hoped she would still accompany him.

“I just need some time alone. Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” She grabbed a nearby torch and turned to walk away.

“I understand.” His voice was low and reserved.

Tav had selfishly hoped that he would offer to stay with her. But she understood. The sooner he could find out a way to be rid of these shadows for good, the better. She hoped the disappointment wasn’t too obvious in her expression. Lunari followed her, but Tav stopped and held out her hand.

“No, girl. Stay here.” The wolf whined in protest, but dropped her haunches into the dirt.

As she made her way towards the trees, dragging her feet in the dirt, she somehow managed to keep the rest of her tears in her eyes until she was out of view of the camp.

***

Halsin watched Tav shuffle away into the dark, her shoulders slumped and head hung low. He vividly remembered the feeling of seeing someone you love warped by this vicious curse. Despite his numerous friends and allies that fell here, he had been lucky to avoid such an ordeal since they had returned.

“You should go talk to her.” Karlach walked up beside him. “She’ll listen to you.”

“I have no words that can comfort this kind of grief, Karlach. She just needs time.” Even as he said the words, he didn’t truly believe them. “My focus must return to banishing these shadows, once and for all. For Tav and her brother…for everyone.” His chest tightened with each syllable.

“Hmph. I guess I was wrong then.” She sounded disappointed, maybe even angry.

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused. Karlach let out a long sigh.

“I thought that you liked her, that you cared about her, y’know? The way you two pair up around camp cuddling in front of the fire, the way you flirt even though you’re both terrible at it. Don’t think we haven’t all noticed how she’s the first person you check for injuries whenever we return to camp.” Karlach gave him a small smile.

“I do care for her, but you don’t know what you’re asking of me, Karlach. I’ve waited over a hundred years for this chance. I…I can’t risk losing it.” That familiar pull in his chest was irresistible, yearning to drag him after Tav. The invisible tether binding their hearts together was pulled even tighter with every step she took away from him.

“You wouldn’t even have that chance if it wasn’t for her!” Karlach yelled before releasing a heavy sigh to calm herself.

“If you’ve really waited that long, Halsin…what’s a couple more hours?” Her voice was softer now as she placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

Halsin considered her words for a moment. The last century worth of meditations and prayers had been filled with desperate pleas for answers, for knowledge. Knowledge that he could finally put to use. He thought back to his growing despair every time he reached out to try and find Thaniel, only to be met with silence. He thought back to the defeat he felt at his capture, truly believing he would die at the hands of the goblins, believing he had lost the chance to banish these shadows.

Then, he thought of Tav.

Alone, grieving, and full of guilt…just as he had been all those years ago. Just as he still was now. No one had come to comfort him. He had just been named Archdruid, he was given no time to mourn. Tav was the one who came to his rescue, she was the beacon of hope he had prayed for over the last century, his guiding light in a world of darkness. Thinking of her alone, surrounded by shadow was enough to nearly knock him to his knees.

Oak Father, forgive me.

Halsin took a deep breath and patted Karlach’s hand on his shoulder.

“You are a good friend, Karlach.” She grinned back at him. He started to move forward but turned back to her.

“Am I really that bad at flirting?” he asked.

“Yes,” Astarion’s voice called out from somewhere behind Karlach, she let out a loud laugh.

“Not as bad as Tav though. Go on, go get your girl, bear man.” She was still smiling at him.

He grabbed a torch and ran after Tav.

***

Tav didn’t know where she was going, just that she couldn’t sit around the campfire with everyone tonight. In her heart, she always knew that Tev had died, but some deep, dark part of her held on to the smallest sliver of hope. She hoped in her worst nights that he had escaped somewhere, that he was scouring the lands of Faerûn so they could be together once more. That hope kept her going through countless lows, the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find her brother again.

Now, what did she have? A group of battered, exhausted adventurers, plagued with mind flayer tadpoles and a host of other problems. Hopeless pining after a druid who seemed so afraid of his past that he wasn’t willing to look for a future. Hundreds of years of life ahead of her, with no family and no one to share it with.

She stopped at a large tree with huge roots sticking out of the ground. There was a little divot between the roots big enough for her to sit in. She drove the end of her torch into the cold dirt, sitting next to it and leaning against the rough trunk. The ever-present chill in the air reminded her of her creeping loneliness. Pulling her legs close to her chest, she allowed her grief to consume her. The headache forming behind her eyes protested at her sobs. Her eyelids fluttered closed, desperate for rest she knew wouldn’t come.

Suddenly, she was sprinting through the streets of the Lower City, the cool stone scraping her bare feet. Tav’ahria was desperately trying to keep up with Tev’aron who was attempting to lead her to a safe house. They hadn’t said a word since they fled the party, they only ran. 

What remained of the train of her gown kept snagging on various objects as she dashed through alleys and around corners after Tev. And each time she would slice a shred of the soft fabric free with the dagger he had given her, frantically trying to keep herself from slowing down. She wasn’t sure if they were even being followed anymore, but she didn’t dare spare a glance behind her.

Eventually, Tev stopped and grabbed her arm to pull her into an inn. She took a moment to catch her breath, wiping away the sweat dripping from her brow. Many of the tiny braids weaved into her hair had come loose and were sticking out from her head in a wild pattern. The skirt of her dress hung around her knees in tattered shreds from cutting away the snagged pieces.

“Wait here, Ria. Don’t talk to anyone until I return.” He squeezed her shoulders lightly and disappeared into the small crowd.

She leaned her head back against the wall as she scanned the room before her. Patrons of all shapes, sizes, and colors talked and laughed among the tables. Pretty, young barmaids navigated their way around the room with expertise, spinning around drunken customers while delivering drinks and cleaning tables. 

The room had a liveliness that was unfamiliar to her. She had attended her fair share of parties and balls, but none felt as alive as this gathering in front of her. She was used to polite, idle chatter and elegant, stuffy music echoing off grand walls. But here…everyone was loud and crude, the only music came from a bard off in the corner who was being drowned out by those singing along to his songs.

The singing was terrible, the bard’s lute was in need of a good tuning, and the smell of ale mixed with something unidentifiable made her stomach churn a bit. Yet somehow, it was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen in her long life. It took her a moment to identify the feeling.

Freedom.

The laughs and chatter around her brought tears to her eyes. She ached to meld into the crowd. To laugh and drink and play cards until the sun started to rise. Without thinking, she took a step forward, longing to feel as carefree as everyone around her.

“Ria!” Tev reappeared beside her. “This way.” He tilted his head towards a door to the side of the building. He had grabbed a cloak and threw it around her shoulders, pulling the hood up over her head to obscure her appearance. 

She gave one last wistful look to the room behind her as he pulled her into another alley. Tears flowed down her cheeks, cooling her face with the evening breeze.

“Hey, hey…” Tev turned to face her once they were outside. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She smiled up at him as she wiped the tears away using the cloak he had given her. Unable to help herself, she started to laugh uncontrollably. He gave her a worried look.

“I’m free…I can do what I want. I can laugh and drink and curse and dance and…” The smile on her face kept getting wider and wider. “I can do whatever it is normal people do. Why did I wait this long? Why did I stay there?”

Tev gave her a hug that threatened to crush her spine. She hugged him back and cried into his shoulder.

“Come on, our ride should be here any minute. The Harpers have enclaves everywhere, we can lay low for a while to make sure we’re safe.” Tev pulled away and smiled down at her.

He led her to the edge of the alley where it met the road, peering around the corner. A small horse-drawn cart was making its way towards them. It slowed as it approached the alley, and Tev quickly tugged her toward the back of it. He pulled her up to sit among the crates and barrels as it resumed its traveling speed. The person up front turned to give a nod to Tev, which he returned. The cart bounced along the cobblestone roadways as it made its way toward the outskirts of the Lower City, causing their shoulders to bump together periodically.

A welcome fog started to settle over the city, giving them even more cover to make their escape. The lights dimmed in the mist as it swirled around her face to form a light layer of cold moisture on her skin.

Tav’ahria wrapped the cloak she was wearing tight around her body, trying to fight off the evening chill. Tev put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She sighed as she leaned on his shoulder, her eyelids starting to feel heavy.

“You came back,” she whispered.

“Of course I did.” He leaned his head down to rest on hers. “I’ll always come back for you, Ria.”

Tav blinked and returned to the shadows, still as heavy and dark as they were one hundred years ago. She had searched for Tev for months after the curse was unleashed. Desperately seeking anyone who had witnessed the battle to inquire about his whereabouts. For years after, she kept tabs on Harper safe houses and enclaves, hoping that he would make his way through their underground network. No one knew his fate, whether he fell to a sword or succumbed to the curse, or if he was hiding out somewhere, still alive and awaiting a rescue that would never come.

But she knew now. He had been trapped here all this time, being warped by this wicked, unnatural darkness. The guilt she felt was crushing her, she felt unable to move under its weight.

“I should have come back for you, Tev…” she whispered the words, knowing they would disappear into the shadows.

Who would come back for her now? Who would drag her from these nightmares and run with her to safety?

You’re just a lonely little flower again, wilting away in the dark.

***

Tav’s footprints led Halsin to a small, nearby clearing. There was a large tree at its edge, and he found her curled up against the trunk, nestled among bulky roots. He called out to her in a gentle voice.

“Tav?” No response, only stifled sniffles. He took a few more steps toward her.

“May I come sit?” he asked, waiting for any invitation to do so. She nodded, the movement barely visible with her shoulders heaving.

He sat close to her, the rough bark of the tree scratching against his clothing. Tentatively, he reached out to place a hand on her back. Her shoulders were tense, and it felt like her entire body was shaking.

“I thought you were going back to Last Light.” Her voice was raspy and strained.

“It can wait just a bit longer. I think I belong here with you right now.” Karlach’s words echoed in his mind.

“I’m so sorry you had to see him like this, Tav…” he trailed off, slowly stroking her back.

“I can’t stand the thought of him being here, Halsin. Buried away in a strange land, without even the sun to shine on his grave.”

A sadness most familiar to him as well. His entire family had passed, but at least they rested in their home of High Forest. There was little he wouldn’t do to ensure they didn’t have to spend eternity in a place like this.

“It doesn’t have to be this way forever.” His own voice was beginning to crack. “We can bring the light back to Moonrise.”

She turned to look at him, her face lined with the trails from her tears. Not a trace of hope could be seen in her reddened eyes. He held his other arm out, inviting her to come lean against him. Her bottom lip started quivering, and she dove into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. She had both arms wrapped tight around his waist, clinging to him as if he was her only anchor to the ground. The sudden movement startled him, but he quickly relaxed into her warm embrace.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she mumbled into his shirt between sobs.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I know all too well the pain of being back in this accursed forest.” He leaned his head down to rest on hers.

They sat huddled against the tree together. The only sounds were Tav’s cries, slowly calming as she relaxed in his arms. He felt a surprising amount of relief sitting here, holding her.

I have given you all that you need. Find your balance. You know the way.

The Oak Father’s words drifted to the front of his mind.

Perhaps you don’t have to do this alone.

Halsin was the one to finally break the silence.

“For decades I have begged Silvanus’s favor, desperate for answers. I have been so consumed by grief and despair, so convinced that I had to banish this ancient evil on my own, that I could not see the gift he finally sent me.” He paused to take a deep breath before continuing.

“Even when she dragged me from the maws of the goblin camp.”

Tav tilted her head to look up at him, wiping a line of tears and snot from her face. A few of the stray hairs from her braid were now stuck to her cheeks.

“Now that I have you here with me, I’ve come to realize that I cannot do this alone.” Admitting this to her was a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He peeled the stray strands from her face and tucked them behind her ears.

“Do you really have a way to lift the curse?” she asked.

“Perhaps. I won’t know for sure until I can talk with the Flaming Fist. If Thaniel is alive, I need more information to guide me. I can’t just charge in blind, or I’ll likely end up lost myself.” He could hear the frustration creeping into his voice.

Tav studied him for a while. With each passing moment, the look in her eyes became more and more intense.

“Then…we’ll find a way to wake him up. We won’t leave this place until the shadows are banished. Forever.” There was a sudden strength in her words that made his heartbeat quicken.

“I’ve already asked so much of you.” The strength in his own words faltered as hers grew.

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering.” Her eyes had cleared and the hopelessness he had seen before was now replaced with determination. “If you think it can be done, we’ll make it happen.”

Halsin’s breathing became unsteady, looking into her eyes brought all the desire of the past weeks to the front of his mind. Finally, he had someone to share this burden with, someone who understood his pain. For so long, he had pushed away any possible distraction, and now he found himself so close to achieving his goals…but that selfish ache returned to his chest.

He leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers before giving her the softest of kisses. Their lips just barely brushed against each other. It was all he could afford right now. The light touch was still enough to send his heart aflutter.

She blinked at him a few times after he pulled away. A surprised smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. He took one of her hands in his and held it against his chest.

“I care about you, Tav,” he whispered, struggling to contain the urge to take her into his arms for the night, to feel every inch of her skin pressed against his own. “I know that you wish for us to be more than this but…” He closed his eyes and sighed.

“My guilt and my duty to this land have weighed on me for some time. One day I hope my heart will be free to roam again but until then…I’m afraid that this is all I have to offer for now.” He looked down at the ground, almost ashamed to admit it.

Tav’s other hand came up to rest on his cheek, her thumb tracing the lines on his face. She moved her hand up to the hair falling around his ears, allowing her fingers to gently run through the strands. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into her touch.

“I’ll take it.”  She put her head back down on his shoulder and hugged him closer to her. He wrapped his arms back around her to hold her in place, a relieved sigh escaping from his lips.

I’ll take it.

He never knew those three words could sound so sweet.

“Okay, enough wallowing.” Tav sniffled after a few minutes and stood up, wiping the tears from her face. “We need to get you to Last Light.”

“Are you sure? If you’re not feeling up for it yet, I’m sure the others can get me there.”

“I’m sure. Let’s send this curse back up Shar’s fucking ass where it belongs.” She held her hand out to help him up. A proud grin came over his face.

There’s that righteous rage.

“I need no further encouragement.” Halsin let her pull him to his feet. She threw her arms around his neck once more in a hug.

“Thank you, Halsin,” she whispered against his shoulder.

“Anytime, Tav.” He pulled her tight against him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She tried to pull away, but he held her there a few moments longer, not quite ready to let go and face his destiny just yet.

[xtarart]

HAPPY 5 YEAR ANNIVERSARY DRAGALIA LOST!!! to mark this momentous occasion i decided to go back and recreate my old moveset for EUDEN AND MIDGARDSORMR FORGE A PACT WITH SMASH! this human and dragon duo have a unique playstyle that focuses on building up quick combos to help fill up a special meter as Euden who is a rather fast moving medium weight sword fighter. once the meter if full you can use the down special to transform into Midgardsormr for a limited amount of time to unleash devastating strength to overwhelm your foes! now for a quick rundown on their specials, starting with...

Euden's specials! which are as follows:

Neutral special, exalted fire: Euden shoots a flaming crescent from his sword that will move forward a set distance similar to clouds neutral special but if it makes contact with a foe it will continue on its path allowing you to hit multiple foes.

Side special, force strike: Euden will take a charging stance as a glowing arrow appears behind him and fills with a lighter color, when the b button is released once the arrow is fully glowing Euden will strike with a strong shield breaker attack, if b is let go before the attack is fully charged it will cancel the attack, it can also be aimed all 360 degrees.

Up special, blazing circlet: Euden will spin around with his blade outstretched and engulfed in flames spiraling him upward, if performed on the ground he will just spin in place instead of upward, think links spin attack but on fire and without the chargeable feature.

Down special when meter isn't full, Helper skills: Euden will call upon some of his closest allies to aid him in battle. each summon behaving almost like a mini assist trophy. the move has a 10 second cooldown to prevent spamming, also the summon order will not reset when K.O.ed. Euden can also freely move around once the ally is summoned on the field, allowing for some good combo potential with the ally. the order of summoning is as follows.

Elisanne, hallowed waters: Elly will leap upward and then strike downward with her spear while its coated in water mana, think a mix of yoshi and bowsers down specials mixed with corrins down air.

Ranzal, tornado bash: ranzal spins around his large axe trapping anyone who gets to close in a cyclone of hurt then at the end of the spinning he will swing his axe outward sending any foes caught flying, basically DK's up special but slower moving.

Luca, radiant bonds: Luca leaps upward and aims his bow at a slight downward angle and shoots an light mana charged mana arrow, the arrow will stun aany opponent it hits.

Cleo, elder cure: Cleo would float up into the air and hold her wand aloft and heals some of Eudens health.

the order then loops back to Elisanne repeating the cycle.

Down special when meter is full, Shapeshift: euden will ascend into the air and be enveloped in light which then disburses as he is transformed into Midgardsormr with whirlwind flows around him creating a weak hitbox to defend himself.

Final smash, exalted glory: Euden quickly dawns his gala armor and thrusts his sword into the ground, creating a radius of glowing energy around him dragging anyone he hits into a cutscene where the prince and his 4 allies join forces to unleash a powerful elemental barrage of attacks to send eudens foes flying. and now moving on to Midgardsormr’s specials.

Neutral special: Calamitious tempest. Midgardsormr would charge a ball of wind mana and launch it in an arc and when it lands or hits something it will explode into a blast of air, it’s chargeable which affects the strength and distance of the projectile.

Side special: Grand tempest. Midgardsormr claps his wings together to creat a small tornado that travels in a straight line a set distance then dissipates, anyone hit by the tornado will be launched straight up, making it a good tool for starting air combos, it also pushes mids back a bit cause of the powerful gale force of his wings clapping.

Up special: Tornado tail/Tornado spiral. On the ground Midgardsormr will perform his signature attack tornado tail, a powerful spin that sends near by foes flying. But in the air he instead summon a small tornado below him to push him upward, it’s similar to charizard’s up special.

Down special: Calamitous storm. Midgardsormr would unleash a powerful burst of wind mana around him devastating all those caught in its wake, but at a hefty cost, it drains his meter to empty forcing the player to revert back to Euden, the strength and size of the blast is dependent on how much energy is left in his dragon pulse meter. Like hero’s magic burst.

Final smash: Greatwyrms pact. Midgardsormr would let out a mighty roar that shakes the air around him, anyone to close to him would be dragged to a cutscene where the other 5 greatwyrms surround the players, the camera would then pan up to reveal Midgardsormr in his high dragon form charging a blast of wind mana, which he then unleashed on the foes and the other 5 greatwyrms also shoot off blasts their respected elemental mana. If the opponent is at over 100% damage it’s an automatic K.O. by learning how to take the unique playstyle's of both Euden and Midgardsormr in tandem you can overcome any obstacle in your path with ease. thank you for reading and heres to 5 years of remembering one of the greatest mobile games of all time and a forgotten gem of a nintendo franchise, heres hoping one day we will see the world of Dragalia Lost again. HAPPY 5TH ANNIVERSARY!!!

[kharia-adarkim]

Atop Mt. Gulg

significant Shadowbringers spoilers

Kharia narrowly dodged the rain of blades, shreds of her leather jacket being peeled away by razor thin misses. With a guttural cry, she dove forward with her gunblade, smashing through one of Innocence's glimmering wards. The sin eater raised its spear to catch her strike, and Kharia grinned wickedly, pulling the manatrigger twice in rapid succession, unleashing a torrent of aether straight into the monster's chest. It staggered, stunned, before beginning to dissolve into diamond motes. She knelt before it, struggling to slow her breathing. Her respite was interrupted by a rush of magic, and she forced yet more aether into her gunblade and whipped it around, taking aim at a bemused Emet Selch.

"Oh my, such hostility!," he said as he raised his hands in an exaggerrated gesture of surrender. "I was only here to congratulate your hard won victory!" As the wall of light surrounding the dais where Kharia and Vauthry fought dissolved, the other Scions rushed in to see what had happened. The fire in Kharia's eyes told them to stand back.

"He needs to die," Green hissed, willing Kharia's hand to pull the trigger. "He's too big a threat. And besides, what kind of hero would we be if we let an Ascian go?"

"We can't!" Red shot back, "We don't have the strength, not after that fight."

"There are people depending on us, Red." As Kharia's alters raged against each other, a golden mist rose from the cracked ground. "Not just Eorzea, or Norvrandt - half a dozen worlds need us!"

"Come on, pull yourself together Champion," Emet taunted. "Look, all your friends are here! Share with them your moment of triumph!"

"Kharia?" Y'shtola called, "Is she alright?" she asked the other Scions with alarm. Squinting towards the Auri woman, she frowned. "I can just scarcely make out Emet Selch's aether, but this light..."

"She's beaten, but alive," Ryne whispered, "Vauthry isn't here, and she's standing. It's a miracle."

"Yet something is amiss," Urianger warned. "When the other Lightwardens were slain, their aether joined together with that of the Warrior of Darkness. Yet here, the Light drifts, stagnant. I do believe our friend's task remaineth unfinished."

"What?! Why hasn't she absorbed it?" Alphinaud asked. Kharia's arms began to waver, and a knee buckled.

"Oh, but she has!" gloated the Ascian.

"And she's coming apart at the seams," Thancred stated grimly. He nodded at the Auri woman. "Look at her hands." The gunblade's hilt was cracking, and a golden light shown within. Other cracks ran along her fingers, and up her arms. Her eyes, normally crimson, glowed silver, and her hair began to lift and shine. With cold, mechanical motion, she rose back to her feet and steadied her weapon.

"We have all the power we need..." Kharia's voice was distant, tinged with desperation. "We can be the savior of this star - and all her sisters." Her weapon shone like the sun, surging with the gathering aether, crystal and steel growing along her trigger hand. "With the Lightwardens' power, we can bring an eternal peace." Emet Selch cackled.

"Do it, 'Hero!'" he mocked. "Show your friends, the world, the power you wield! After all, who alive can stop you?!" Power rolled off of Kharia in waves. Her legs collapsed in pain, and a bestial snarl rose to her lips. She reached forward, her blazing hand morphing into a claw.

"Kharia!" the Exarch roared against the growing winds. The gale flipped his hood from his shoulders, exposing his ruby feline ears. The Miqo'te gathered magics of his own and brought them to bear against the emerging Sin Eater. She glanced in his direction, too late, and immediately collapsed to her knees, her partially formed monstrous features fading back into golden dust. She doubled over in pain, then glanced up at the Exarch. He winced as crystal spread across his chest, ears drooping.

"...G'raha?" Kharia whispered. Her eyes widened a moment, then drifted shut as she collapsed.

"You've only delayed the inevitable, you know." Emet Selch shook his head.

"Take her back to the Crystarium," G'raha ordered the Scions. "I shall deal with Emet Selch."

"As much as I'd love to see what you're capable of, I really just don't have the time," the Ascian's voice dripped with fake pity. To the shock of all, he drew a pistol from his coat.

"Exarch!" Urianger cried, frantically weaving a shield spell. His magic manifested a moment too late, and a bullet pierced the Miqo'te's shoulder. Emet Selch blew the smoke from the revolver's barrel.

"Relax, it shouldn't kill him - at least, I hope it won't, because I'd rather like to learn the tower's secrets from one versed in it's ways." With a snap of his fingers, a rift of magic swallowed the Exarch. Another snap, and Emet Selch vanished as well.

"Ryne, can you do anything to stabilize Kharia's aether?" Y'shtola asked. There was a pause before she responded.

"I- yes, I think so," she stammered. She ran over to the unconscious Xaela and began to focus. After a few moments of concentration, she frowned. "Y'shtola, something's wrong with her aether." The Miqo'te frowned and knelt by Kharia's side. After a brief inspection, she sighed in relief.

"This is normal, for her at least. And may prove a boon. Her souls are connected, you see." She tapped her chin in thought. "Can you shift their aetherial balance? Make one more infused with light than the other?"

"I can try," Ryne nodded, and began to focus her magics again.

--------------------

Kharia awoke in her inn room with a groan. It was quiet. Too quiet. She began to panic as she rolled out of bed. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. She was... alone. Too alone. "...Green?" she whispered aloud. She nearly jumped from her skin when Ardbert's shade spoke up.

"That's the other one, right?" he said, tapping his temple. "The other 'you,' up in there?"

"How did you..?"

"Gut feeling. Instinct. Something like that. Maybe it's ghost magic." He grimaced. "Sorry, I crack jokes when I'm nervous."

"What happened? After we beat Vauthry?"

"Where to begin? Emet Selch showed up. Shot the Exarch and took him someplace. You started to, uh..." he trailed off.

"What did we do?"

"Change. Transform. The Light was too much. The Exarch managed to knock you out before he was abducted, and Ryne did something to suppress the light. But it won't hold forever."

"Did that make Green..?" Kharia's statement was interrupted when a knock came from the door. "Come in," she called to it.

"How are you feeling?" Y'shtola asked as she entered the room. Kharia glowered. Red hoped her displeasure was palpable in her aetherial signature.

"...I'm sorry. It was necessary. In order to keep your body from transforming, Ryne had to sift some light out of you and into your other."

"Tell me she's okay." Kharia's voice wavered.

"She's dormant for now. Ryne's magic won't hold her back forever though. And when she awakens, she may begin to transform you again." Kharia said nothing. "I apologize, but I have also informed Urianger of your... predicament. He believes that we should search for the Exarch, as it may be possible to use the Tower to seal her within the rift, where she cannot harm anyone."

"No. Out of the question. Green was right, we're making Emet Selch pay. This is all his fault. His, and the rest of the gods-damned Ascians!" She began to tear drawers from their dressers and overturn tables. "Where is our gunblade?!"

"It shattered atop Mt. Gulg," Y'shtola replied. Kharia let out a cry of frustration.

"I'll kill him with my bare hands then!"

"Kharia!" Y'shtola slapped her face. The Xaela sat in stunned silence. "You're in no condition to chase after him. And everyone is worried sick about you."

"They shouldn't be," she muttered. "This is my job. My duty. To save everyone. Including Green." Tears began to well up in her eyes. Y'shtola sighed.

"So much for the easy way. The twins have another theory. Readings from the Tower indicate a concentration of Aether submerged beneath the sea south of Eulmore. We believe Emet Selch has made his lair there."

"How will we-"

"Thancred's already gone to see if the Pixies can aid us with that."

"What about a weapon? I need one that can withstand the Light."

"Legends speak of a blacksmith who built a forge beneath the sea to isolate himself from any distractions. If anyone can craft you something like that, it's him."

--------------------

The Hume gentleman slid the whetstone along the blade one last time, then clicked the aetheric converter open and shut. "I tell you, this might be my greatest work yet. Course, you deserve some credit too miss. I never would've come up with running an aether channel along the back of the blade m'self." Kharia took the blade from his workbench and tested its weight. It felt perfect in her hands. Perfect, like the rest of Norvrandt soon will be, she thought to herself. She blinked, and shook her head. They'd come too far now. Too many people needed her to press ownard, into the darkest depths of the Tempest. And she would illuminate those depths with glorious Light. She bit her lip.

"Somethin' wrong?" the smith asked.

"No. It's good. Great. Thank you."

"Thank you for the inspiration ma'am," he said with a bow. The door to the forge flew open with a crash.

"Heartless! Cruel, crass, uncaring, heartless! That's what you are!" a shrill voice cried from the opening. Kharia spun to see Feo Ul's kingly form ducking through the door. "Our mean, heartless, spiteful sapling goes to the depths of the sea before she calls upon us! How rude! How ungrateful!"

"Feo Ul?"

"Hmph! At least she remembers our name! Not that it did her any good, no. She still doesn't call in her hour of need! Perhaps she doesn't need this new coat after all, she seems perfectly happy to prance about in that ragged thing!"

"A new coat?" she asked.

"Indeed. The finest leather it is! But heartless, ungrateful saplings like you deserve to wear tattered clothes, yes you do." Kharia sighed.

"I'm so sorry, your glorious illustriousness Feo Ul. I truly am unworthy of such a gift."

"Yes, exactly. But since I'm so benevolent and forgiving, I'll give it to you anyways. And you ought to be grateful!"

"Of course, thank you so much your Highness." The Fae knelt before her and frowned.

"Sapling, is something the matter? Your heart doesn't seem to be in it."

Kharia hesitated.

"I'm fine. Really. Just focused on my mission. Thank you for the coat."

"Take care of yourself sapling, you hear me?"

"We'll be fine." She took off the scorched remnant of her old jacket and put on the new one. It fit her snugly, and shielded her from the deep-sea chill. She gave Feo Ul a bow, and left the forge. The other Scions stood outside awkwardly.

"So... are we ready to head off?" Alisaie asked. Kharia nodded, and led her companions further into the abyss. Though nobody said a word, they all noted the faint radiance of her skin.

---------------------

Kharia gasped as she crested another dune. Before her lie a colossal, flickering city, with towers soaring towards the surface, their bases obscured yet further below.

"Gods..." Thancred murmured.

"He's in there. I know it," Kharia spat.

"We must needs exercise caution," Urianger warned. "Before us lieth the lair of our foe, and he be far more familiar with its streets than we."

"He's right," Alphinaud nodded, "We should proceed with caution."

--------------------

Kharia resisted the urge to draw her gunblade against the phantasm. Though these phantom Amaurotines were friendly, and were trying to be helpful, she'd been wandering the city for hours, being referred to this office or that secretary or told yet other form needed filing. The other Scions' efforts were similarly fruitless, having found no means of entering the central capital chamber beyond its front door, which required a writ to open. Kharia took a deep breath to center herself, when a voice called from behind her.

"Excuse me, miss. I cannot help but notice the others you bear with you. One, in particular, looks quite unwell." A curious shade loomed over Kharia. "Has she been exposed to foul aether by chance?"

"Y- you can see her? Green?"

"Yes, in a fashion. I have the gift to see the color of one's soul, you understand, and I can see your twinned souls clinging to each other." The Amaurotine pauses a moment. "A harmony incomplete, it would seem. Though another drifts about you, waiting to join the chorus." The figure turned to face the shocked specter of Ardbert.

"You can see me?" he asked, incredulous.

"Indeed. Her souls and yours. They resonate. It reminds me of a friend of mine, from long ago. Her soul was like a rainbow, several colors forming a beautiful tapestry." The shade shook its head. "That explains his hesitation, as well as his grief. He sees an unraveled quilt instead of a new work altogether."

"I don't understand," Kharia said. "Whose hesitation?"

"You are familiar with whom I speak of. One of my dear partners." Though his face was obscured by the mask, Kharia could hear the smile and adoration in the being's voice. She frowned.

"You know I plan to kill Emet Selch."

"I do. However, as a conjured memory of a time long past, there is little I can do to stop you. I cannot say that I wish you luck, but I pray you find your friend the cure she needs." Kharia glanced aside uncomfortably. The shade stood and left the building, and Kharia sat alone in silence.

--------------------

Kharia lifted her gunblade flat, deflecting a bolt of shadowy magic. Behind her, Urianger tended to Thancred's wounds. Emet Selch cackled as phantom meteors fell around them. "This is the end, hero! Now, at the last, you can feel but a sliver of the despair I felt that day!" Though the air was frigid on this distant, stony stage, her body burned just under the skin.

"Let. Me. Kill. Him." Green's voice strained in desperation. "Let. Me. Cleanse. This. Darkness."

"I can't," Red grimaced. "I let you out, we turn, and this was all for nothing."

"Nothing... Glorious nothing... Let us destroy him! Let us save the world! Save all worlds!" Red's focus shifted from her light-crazed alter to an incoming vortex of frost, far too late to dodge. She grimaced, and instinctively, Green's aether - tainted as it was - flared in a golden dome around her.

"We... won't... die..." Kharia's voice was warped with power as she marched forward, directly into Emet Selch's onslaught of magic. "We... have...... a duty........." The golden aura waned, and cracked. A bolt of flame pierced her shield and knocked her leg out from under her. Her vision began to fade into white, and she coughed blood. She felt her limbs, distantly, as they cracked and burned. Light engulfed her, and her senses dulled. She was vaguely aware of the Scions crying out behind her, and a barrage of magic from Emet Selch flying over ger head. Her senses continued to dull. The clasp of a hand on her shoulder shook her briefly from her stupor.

"Tell me...if you had the strength to take another step, could you do it? Could you save our worlds?"

"What?" Kharia coughed. "All by myself? Green is..."

"But I'm here." Ardbert lowered the haft of his waraxe in front of her. "Take it. We fight as one." Kharia nodded, wrapping her hand around it's handle. Slowly, she rose to her feet, the blinding light that poured from her skin fading.

"Emet Selch. We challenge you."

"How? How do you yet live?" he cried. "You... your aether..." He scowled. "You mock her memory. You're just a poor imitation. But if it's a fight you want, then it is a fight you shall have. Enough with these titles and pretenses. You will face none other than Hades." The Ascian gathered an immense quantity of aether into himself, transforming from a sardonic, middle aged man to a towering avatar of darkness. Kharia twirled the gunblade in her hand.

"It's no axe, but it will do," smiled Ardbert. Red hesitated, then relaxed, and a century of grief, mourning, hope, and desperation filled Kharia's limbs. She let out a deep, determined warcry, and charged the sorcerer head on. Arcs of lightning lashed towards her, deflected by charged blasts from her manatrigger. Hades took a phantom meteor from the sky and gave it form, hurtling it in her direction. Kharia lept into the air and, with a shout, slammed her blade against it. The resulting explosion shot her towards Hades like a bullet, and he raised a clawed arm in front of her, taking a deep gash to the arm to avoid a blow to the chest. Red masks manifested in the space around them.

"It is by my hand that the world shall be unsundered!" Hades' voice cried, echoing from all directions. "Millions of souls depend upon me for their deliverance!"

"We know that burden all too well, Hades," Kharia growled back. She dashed towards him.

"Lies!" he roared. "Your worlds are a mockery of life itself."

"Ardbert..!" Red cried, directing his attention towards a dark rift opening beneath them. Kharia skidded to a halt then lept back. She braced herself for an incoming gust of razor winds. Though her coat flapped wildly, it held fast, and spared her the brunt of the blow.

"This may have been harder than I expected," Ardbert panted. "And she isn't helping!" Green's righteous fury burned their souls, aching the be unleashed.

"Just give up and die already," Hades howled. "Your souls are a crude fascimile of hers, your very existence tarnishes her memory." He unleashed another volley of magics at the steadfast Xaela. The impact broke Ardbert's concentration, but somehow they remained upright.

"No, Hades," Kharia's body moved and spoke of its own accord. "Her memory is tarnished by none other than you."

"That's not you, is it?" Ardbert asked.

"Not Green either," Red replied worriedly.

"What is this? This... impurity?" Green's self righteousness wavered. Kharia tossed her gunblade aside and took a step towards Hades. The sound of creaking ice and tinkling glass began to echo around her. A cough came from behind Hades, and the Exarch struggled to lift his body.

"And how in blazes are you still standing?!" Hades demanded, turning about.

"Oh, I'm not standing," G'raha replied wryly, abandoning his attempt to lift himself with his staff. "But I got your attention, didn't I?" A shattering crash came from Kharia's direction, then another. Hades roared as he prepared for an assault, then froze. The space behind Kharia was broken, wounds torn across the interdimensional rift. An aurora of aether swam around a floating Xaela.

"No... You can't be her... you can't be!" Hades stammered.

"You're right," A voice rang from the maelstrom of aether gathered around Kharia. "She can't be. And never will be. You know this."

"But I have to do this," Hades voice betrayed his steady posture as he conjured globes of arcane might. "I have to! For those we sacrificed to Zodiark. For the Sundered. For Hythlodaeus. For Azem. For y-"

"Shut up," Kharia interrupted. "You did this for yourself. Your guilt." She paused, as if listening to an unheard speaker. "We won't let you disrespect their memories any longer." Hades moved to unleash his magics, but the rainbow of light around Kharia coalesced into a single brilliant, blinding point. Hades recoiled from its might, and from within, Kharia let out a cry, spinning and hurling an axe of pure aether at the Ascian. It tore through his chest, and Hades' spells fizzled out. He collapsed, and his body fizzled to dark mist. The Crystal Exarch stood to his feet and looked in horror as the holes to the dimensional rift grew.

"Not on my watch!" he yelled, casting a spell. Cerulean laces darted across the gashes in space, and G'raha strained as he willed them shut. Suddenly, the burden lightened, and he gasped and glanced beyond the fissure. Alphinaud and Alisaie willed their aether into his spell, and behind them, the other Scions began to stir with grunts and groans. Together, their magic closed the wounds made by Kharia's inexplicable display of might. Her safety now assured, the Exarch ran to Kharia's side. "Are you okay?" he whispered. The Xaela whimpered and struggled to lift a hand towards him. Her voice was barely audible.

"No."

--------------------

"...n't care that you're the Exarch, I told you, she's in quarantine for the safety of the Crystarium!" a man's voice echoed down the infirmary halls. Behind a door with a placard reading "Warning: light-poisoned patient", a Xaela regretted regaining consciousness.

"Did we die?" Red groaned.

"No," Green replied, "Ardbert would know how that feels"

"But gods, I'd almost prefer it," Ardbert moaned. "But look at you. Figuratively. Freed from the Light."

"I'm sorry." Green was quiet. "I failed us."

"Maybe so," said Ardbert. "But you tried." Kharia's brow twitched lightly in concentration as she laid on the infirmary cot.

"Who purged the Light, though?" Red muttered.

"Perhaps another of us? From yet another shard?" Ardbert offered.

"I felt a couple of unfamiliar presences when the Light left me," Green mused. "Granted, one I know now was Ardbert, but I'm certain there were others..." Her considerations were cut short as Kharia was ripped from her stupor by the feeling of cold crystal pressing gently onto her neck.

"...please have a pulse, please have a pulse, please have a-" the Exarch chanted. Kharia groaned and shrunk away from the chill of his hand, her own hands fumbling blindly for the blanket. "She's- you're alive!" Kharia's only reply was a more irate groan and to cover her head. "Tell Captain Lyna! And have her fetch the others. The Warrior of Darkness lives!" The shocked chirurgeon stood for a moment in shock, then took off towards the entrance of the clinic.

[wrathbites]

19 - sea change?

Send me a number and I'll write a micro story using the word or phrase

He asked her once, early in their days travelling together, if the sea changes as the land does. If nature has seasons beneath the waves as it does under canopy and shifting skies.

"The sea has no season, only chaos, and change comes to those who answer her call."

Change. Such a simple word for the corruption of some of her people, the twisting of their bodies into something fearsome and monstrous. A cautionary tale to be spoken of only in hushed tones by a fire, windows and doors closed to the howling gales outside.

He's heard the stories, anyone passing through Baldur's Gate has, he's watched the colour drain from many a sailor's face when they speak of the horrors of the deep, impossibly large shadows ripping through ship and person alike, lightning flashing off scales and bone snapping under tooth and claw.

It's a similar violence Levi wields in battle, as quick to draw blood as she is to hurl a spell, a storm unleashed with no care for those caught in its path and it leaves her shaken, sometimes, unsteady as a newborn fawn. Quiet and distant as the death she leaves in her wake.

Halsin does what he can in the aftermath, gathers her into his arms when they rest at camp, tucks her head under his chin and strokes his fingers up and down the length of her spine, ignoring the bunch and release of muscles longing to heed the call, return home, never to be seen again. He winds tendrils of faint green magic around her, coaxing it to seep into her skin and soothe her hurts, anchor her bones.

And when she pulls free of him those nights, hands on his shoulders to lever herself up, he meets that stare gone too dark and dangerous. When she kisses him with lips gone inexplicably cold he doesn't flinch or draw back, threads her hair around his fingers instead and licks into her mouth to sample the sharp sting of her teeth.

She is wild as all seaborn creatures are, destined to leave one day and never return, but until then...

"Stay," his request, and her answer the slide of her body into the space at his side, tucking in close and pressing her hand to his chest, her palm over his heartbeat.

[quirkwizard]

QM between Whirlwind & Big Fist?

New Quirk Name: Hand Fan

This Transformation type Quirk allows the user to grow out their hands larger than them, resembling large fans. When the user moves these hands, they can disturb and move the wind around them. This makes for powerful bursts, unleashing gale force winds with a swing of their hand. By flexing and moving their hands, the user can control and shape the air, like swishing their hands back a forth to make a small tornado. This gives the user a good mix of combat options, able to turn the winds in their favor by swishing their hands around. They can blast their enemies away, push back attacks, fly around on burst of air, switch up tactics with various air moves, or simply cool down their food. Though this is limited to the user's hands, which can be trapped or damage like regular body parts. The Quirk is lacking in precision, making it mostly useful for combat, and the user does lose out on some motor skills with their hands while they are like this.

[goldlightwriting]

What if the sisters had their own sacred weapons?

You know, it always kind of bugged me that in Fire Emblem Fates, only the brothers of each faction got sacred weapons. I know that the Yato only has four notches to hold each weapon's power-up, but that honestly feels like a lazy excuse. Just give it four notches on each side of the blade, so you get one side filled up in Birthright, one side in Conquest, and both sides in Revelations.

So, with that in mind, I decided to make four new weapons for each side to use, and even wrote little bios for each of them.

Nohr

Siegfried (Sword) One of the eight Prismatic Weapons created by the Rainbow Sage, wielded by Prince Xander. Siegfried commands the power of shadow, and is capable of launching beams of pure darkness upon its wielder's enemies.

Brynhildr (Tome) One of the eight Prismatic Weapons created by the Rainbow Sage, wielded by Prince Leo. Brynhildr can conjure the power of the forest, robbing foes of their vitality and granting it instead to the wielder.

Skrymir (Axe) One of the eight Prismatic Weapons created by the Rainbow Sage, wielded by Princess Camilla. Skrymir can shake the very earth, causing magma to erupt upon the wielder's foes.

Hildisvini (Staff) One of the eight Prismatic Weapons created by the Rainbow Sage, wielded by Princess Elise. Hildisvini can summon a sacred mist that heals a group of allies and its wielder.

Hoshido

Raijinto (Katana) One of the eight Prismatic Weapons created by the Rainbow Sage, wielded by Prince Ryoma. The Raijinto harnesses the power of storms and can call down bolts of lightning upon the wielder's foes.

Fujin Yumi (Yumi) One of the Eight Prismatic Weapons created by the Rainbow Sage, wielded by Prince Takami. The Fujin Yumi is blessed by the power of gales, and can fire arrows of piercing wind at the wielder's enemies.

Omikaminata (Naginata) One of the Eight Prismatic Weapons created by the Rainbow Sage, wielded by Princess Hinoki. The Omikaminata can unleash projectiles of sacred light when swung at its wielder's enemies.

Benten Scroll (Scroll) One of the Eight Prismatic Weapons created by the Rainbow Sage, wielded by Princess Sakura. The Benten Scroll channels the power of ink to strike the user's foes, dealing minor damage but significantly sapping their strength.

Vala

Yato A sacred sword crafted long ago by the Rainbow Sage, with the aid of Anankos. The Yato was designed to wield the might of primordial fire, but its power was drained long ago when it proved too devastating for mere mortals to handle. Only with the aid of the other Prismatic Weapons can its true glory be restored. Currently it is wielded by Prince/Princess Corrin.

Vanir Spear A sacred spear created long ago by Anankos, to be passed down by the Vallite Royal Family. The Vanir Spear draws upon the power of the Sacred Sea, from which it is said all life in this world once emerged... Presently, it is held by Princess Azura, who uses its power to shield herself from harm.

Additional Notes

Okay so you might have noticed some things while reading this. I'll be honest: I didn't initially plan to to start making lore changes or even alterations to characters' classes, but... Well, I started having ideas in the process of making this post, so allow to briefly explain some things.

I tweaked Brynhildr a bit so that it specifically uses plant magic. It always bugged me in the original how the tome just has a bunch of different elements/powers attached to it, including earth, gravity and "life." So yeah, I changed it to just plants since it only hits the enemies with trees in battle.

I was a little bit torn about what to do with Sakura, to be honest. I know she's more of a healer than a mage, so making her special weapon a scroll instead of a staff/rod might be a touch controversial. That said, I think giving her a scroll that debuffs enemies still fits her as a support unit. I based this one off of the Ink Painting Scroll, which already has ties to the Rainbow Sage anyway.

I thought it would be cool to give Azura her own special weapon, rather than just having her wield a Blessed Spear. It sort makes sense for her to have a Blessed Spear to oppose the Faceless, sure, but... I think a weapon that raises defense/evasion makes more sense for a Dancer Class. Just stick a blue gemstone in it and the Vanir Spear can replace her magic water pendant.

Anyways, maybe I'll do a follow-up post later on regarding some idea for potential plot changes to Fates. Until then, Stay Bright.

[cardinalhq]

PLOT DROP 02; 09/28/1990

It began as a whisper on the breeze, a subtle shift in the air that sent shivers down the spines of the townsfolk in Cardinal Hill. The skies, once clear and inviting, darkened ominously as frightening clouds gathered in the distance, but no storm followed - only fierce and unrelenting winds howled through the streets like a wild beast unleashed. The air pulsed with tension as the gusts intensified, sending debris spiralling and rattling signs with an unsettling clang.

Dust and debris swirled in wild spirals, creating a tempestuous ballet that engulfed homes and businesses alike. Windows rattled and creaked under the onslaught, sending glimmering shards across the pavement like broken stars scattered across the earth. Quaint establishments such as Evergreen Bistro and the Maplewood Inn struggled against the gale, their signs swinging wildly, protesting the chaos unfolding around them.

Inside The Ceramic Cup, the comforting scents of coffee and baked goods mingled with the rising tension in the air. Patrons glanced nervously at the windows as the wind howled, a deep, mournful sound echoing their unease. At a back table, a group of witches shared worried glances, feeling a familiar, sickening sensation creeping into their cores - a deep-rooted dread that recalled a recent incident suspected to be tied to dark magic. It hung thick in the air, as if the very essence of the wind was whispering secrets of dread and despair. This wasn’t merely a gust; it felt like a herald of something far more sinister.

Outside, the wind swept through the town square, uprooting flowerpots and sending loose papers fluttering like startled birds. The old clock tower, a beloved symbol of Cardinal Hill, stood defiantly, yet even it shuddered under the onslaught. Inside the diner across the street, patrons clung to their mugs of coffee, eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity, sensing an inexplicable unease settle in their bones, a shared anticipation that something darker was lurking just beyond their sight. The wind carried a promise of disarray, whispering of impending doom that heightened their anxiety.

As the day wore on, the winds gradually began to die down, retreating to a low, haunting whisper that left the town in a heavy silence. The streets lay strewn with debris, remnants of the mayhem that had unfolded. Yet, despite the calm, an unsettling tension lingered in the air, a palpable weight that pressed upon the shoulders of every resident.

For the witches, the familiar sickening sensation intensified, confirming their fears that the dark magic they had sensed before was not a mere figment of imagination. The storm days prior was not just a bad day; it was a warning. They exchanged worried looks, knowing that something serious was at play once more.

The non-magical humans of Cardinal Hill felt it too. As they ventured out into the battered streets, they encountered neighbors with furrowed brows and tight-lipped expressions. Conversations were hushed, and eyes darted around as if expecting another gust to arise. The unease was infectious, spreading through the town like wildfire. This was the second time in recent memory that strange weather had invaded their lives, and it was beginning to feel too deliberate, too calculated.

In the aftermath of the winds, the air hung thick with unspoken fears. Whispers of dark magic circulated among the knowing residents, and every shadow seemed to carry a hint of menace. The winds may have calmed, but the sense of impending doom remained, a constant reminder that something dark was lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for its moment to strike. Cardinal Hill stood on the precipice of an unknown danger, and the townsfolk were more determined than ever to uncover the truth before it either consumed them all, or revealed their deepest darkest secrets to one another.

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2024: Day 23 - On Cloud Nine

Leofard certainly knew how to make an entrance, Arashi could give him that much. While she had no doubt she could tackle the crew of would-be sky pirates, particularly with Fareena’s deft assistance, she wasn’t about to protest a timely entrance and some solid work with a decently built gun. Idly she wondered if the Skysteel Manufactory had anything to do with its creation. Fareena could probably tell them. She’d had to work with Stalwart to tear Fareena away from the place during their first tour of Ishgard.

Speaking of Fareena, she had been strangely quiet since Leofard’s dramatic entrance, invitation, and vanishing into the sea of clouds beneath. Probably just upset someone had showed her up. Or that she hadn’t been given a chance to unleash terrible, terrible violence upon the thugs who had attacked them.

Arashi turned to look at her companion, brushing aside the inevitable stray hairs that flocked to her face as she turned into the wind. Muttering softly, she tucked as much of it as she could behind her horns. Awkward though they could make pillows, the scaly things had some advantages. Arashi frowned as she looked at Fareena’s face. She had a faraway look in her eyes, one completely alien on the usually irritatingly carefree viera. Her own hair, kept in a rough ponytail, was flapping in the strengthening wind. The smell of grass and pollen was strong in the gale. Fareena’s nose twitched, but otherwise she seemed deaf to the world.

For a moment, Arashi considered simply leaving her there and getting on with it. Fareena was big enough and (probably) old enough to take care of herself. Still, she’d inevitably go and make trouble for herself, or more likely others, if left alone for too long. And with Stalwart in the state she was in, it was just Arashi and Fareena up there. Not that Haurchefaunt’s passing didn’t hurt like a bleeding wound every time Arashi thought of it, but he had been Arashi’s best friend.

To Stalwart, however, he had been the light of her life. And he had died defending Arashi. Stalwart claimed she didn’t blame Arashi for what happened, but she didn’t need to. Arashi had plenty of blame to throw on herself for both.

Arashi shook herself free of the misery before it overtook her. Leofard was waiting, and it wouldn’t do to wallow in self-loathing. “Time to go, Fareena.” Arashi tugged on her companion’s leggings, trying and failing to move her along. Fareena muttered something, then smiled a smile Arashi had never seen before. It was not a pleasant smile. Ill-intent and terrible thoughts lurked behind that smile. Against her better judgement, Arashi asked, “What was that?”

Fareena finally turned to face her. Somehow the expression looked far, far worse when directed at Arashi. The viera’s violet eyes glittered with something awful, but it was her words which chilled Arashi to her core.

“Oh, I am going to ride that man like an airship!”