#goddess of vengeance kin

[hazyaltcare]

A devotional/prayer style poem for a Goddess of Vengeance, something to recite as a prayer or to invoke the spirit.

o goddess, o goddess, we invoke your power, let this prayer be a vessel for your consecration. may you hear our plea- may you right the wrongs- may your divine might strike true! o vengeance, o vengeance, o blessing and curse, bestow us reprisal through our supplication. may you hear our plea- may you right the wrongs- may your divine might strike true! o great force of nature, o justice so fair, guide our bodies and souls towards vindication. may you hear our plea- may you right the wrongs- may your divine might strike true!

(This is quite a long invocation, but you can certainly cut it up into its constituent parts as needed.)

Mod Vintage (Tn)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 13: Condemned From The Start] [Series Finale]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), death, angsttttttt, more children than usual, Wolfman!

Series title is a lyrics from: “7 Minutes In Heaven” by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year” by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 8.1k.

Link to chapter list: HERE.

Taglist (more in comments): @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauraneedstochill @not-a-glad-gladiator @daenysx @babyblue711 @arcielee @at-a-rax-ia @bhanclegane @jvpit3rs @padfooteyes @marvelescvpe @travelingmypassion @darkenchantress @yeahright0h @poohxlove @trifoliumviridi @bloodyflowerrr @fan-goddess @devynsficrecs @flowerpotmage @thelittleswanao3 @seabasscevans @hiraethrhapsody @libroparaiso @echos-muses @st-eve-barnes @chattylurker @lm-txles @vagharnaur @moonlightfoxx @storiumemporium @insabecs @heliosscribbles @beautifulsweetschaos @namelesslosers @partnerincrime0 @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @yawneneytiri @marbles-posts @imsolence @maidmerrymint @backyardfolklore @nimaharchive @anxiousdaemon @under-the-aspen-tree @amiraisgoingthruit @dd122004dd @randomdragonfires @jetblack4real @joliettes

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy the finale.🦀💚

In the Eyrie, one of Rhaena Targaryen’s three dragon eggs has hatched at last; the creature is small and pink, and she has named it Morning. When Rhaena’s tears fall onto the scales of her diminutive wings, they glitter like flecks of rose quartz. Deep within the snow-laden labyrinth of the Mountains of the Moon, Nettles is in hiding with Sheepstealer; already the nearby clans are bringing her offerings of meat and treasure, axes and clubs and daggers, hairpins carved from the ribs of enemies and necklaces made of bear teeth. Silverwing is settling into a lair on an island in the Red Lake at the northwestern corner of the Reach. Word of this has travelled back to King’s Landing, and Borros Baratheon implores Aegon II to seize Silverwing for himself; but the king does not want a new dragon. He wants Sunfyre back. That grim truth aside, Aegon is unable to trek across the continent to tame the beast anyway. Some days he cannot even cross a room. At the bottom of the Gods Eye, bodies are dissolving into bones, threads of long white hair breaking loose to flow in the currents like weightless strands of spider webs torn free by cold drafts. And only a few miles from the border of the Crownlands—preparing to cross the icy waters of the Blackwater Rush—the army of Northmen camps under a full moon in a clear, indigo sky heavy with stars like glinting coins.

“There are passageways under King’s Landing,” Clement Celtigar says. He stands by the bonfire with his sword in his hand, his face flame-bright and eager, forever licking up drops of the Kingmaker’s approval, a stray cat lapping milk splashed in an alley. Increasingly, Cregan Stark finds him tiresome. Clement is brash and dramatic, forever swearing vengeance, reveling in his newfound position as the head of his house. The Warden of the North has never had to beg for attention, admiration, acclaim. These things come to him like snow falls to the earth in winter: effortlessly, inevitably. Yet Cregan tries to be patient. Clement is soon to be his brother-in-law, and it is dishonorable to fail to extend courtesy to one’s kin. Furthermore, it seems, Clement has his uses.

“Are there really?”

Clement nods. He wears the banner of his house on a strip of fabric looped around his upper arm: crabs red like blood, a backdrop of white like snow. “That monster’s disciples used them to kidnap my sister from the Red Keep. But she fought hard. When we searched her rooms, all the furniture was upturned and the sheets ripped from her bed.”

“She is brave,” Cregan murmurs in agreement, though he is distracted now. The air tastes like smoke and ice, the wind rubs raw spots into the soldiers’ faces. They are arriving just in time. The depths of winter is no time to wage war. Cregan Stark imagines how you will greet him when he liberates you: a desperate embrace, hands that refuse to let go, whispered gratitude and breathless kisses on his earth-stained knuckles, bones of steel softened by the innate weakness of womanhood. You will love him, of course you will, fervently and entirely. Then when the realm and succession are secured, the Kingmaker will take you North and wed you in the tradition of his people, under the heart tree where the Old Gods can witness it. And then there will be the wedding night. In Cregan’s understanding, women receive little pleasure from the act itself. It is a burden they bear for the men they love, for the children they are divinely tasked with bringing into existence. Cregan Stark intends to alleviate your suffering in this regard as much as possible…yet he has already begun to choose the names of the sons he will make with you. He especially likes the sound of Brandon, sturdy and grounded and thought to mean leader or prince. “This is the last night your sister will ever spend in the clutches of the Usurper.”

“Praise the Seven.” Then Clement adds diplomatically: “And the Old Gods too, of course.”

“It’s the end of the world,” Cregan Stark says, gazing up into the night sky where constellations tell the stories men deem worthy of remembering. “And the start of a brand new one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How did you learn to braid hair?” little Jaehaera asks you in her lilting, reedy voice like a bird’s. You are sitting behind her on the floor in Alicent’s bedchamber. Nearby, Autumn is flipping through a child’s book with Rhaenyra’s ever-solemn son, murmuring as she points to colorful illustrations of ravens, dolphins, bears, dragons, crabs. They are learning to read together.

“My sisters taught me,” you tell the princess. Firelight turns her silver hair to gold, her pale skin to flames. Logs crack and pop as they melt to glowing embers. Alicent glances over at you and sighs despairingly. The dowager queen, so thin she might disappear, is hunched in a chair by the fireplace. She has an unshakeable, rattling sort of cough that reminds you of how Sunfyre sounded on Dragonstone when he was near the end. Her long auburn tresses are falling out in handfuls. She will not survive the winter, this is a certainty.

“You have sisters?” Jaehaera says, surprised. “How many?”

You smile faintly as you weave her hair into one thick braid like the kind Aemond once wore when he went to battle. “Three. Piper, Petra, and Penelope.”

“Where are they now?”

“Back on Claw Isle, where I came from. With our mother.” Mourning Father, mourning Everett, writing letters to Clement to keep his spirits high as he and the Warden of the North march towards King’s Landing to slay the Greens’ king and bind me to a different man’s will.

“What’s Claw Isle like?” Jaehaera asks with a child’s clear, boundless curiosity.

“Rocky, misty, grey. But the ocean is beautiful.” You think of Aegon’s eyes, the same as his daughter’s, a murky storm-blue that is deeper than it looks.

“What brought you here?”

You consider this before you answer. You see it, you feel it: cinders like dark snow in the air, Aemond’s iron grip on your forearm. “When your father was burned at the Battle of Rook’s Rest, he needed someone to help heal him. Your uncle Aemond found me.”

“And he asked you to stay with us?”

He would have slit my throat if I said no. “Yes, he asked very politely, as any gentleman would. And of course I agreed. I wanted to make the king strong again. I wanted to take his pain away.”

Jaehaera stares down at her tiny hands, palms crossed with lines that are long and shadowy in the shifting firelight. She does not speak of Aegon. She does not know him, and he frightens her: the burns on his skin, the suffering in his glazed eyes. She has no memories to impress his true character upon her. If she does not make them herself, she will believe whatever she is told. “I miss Aemond. I miss Daeron.”

“I know, sweetheart.” They were formally laid to rest yesterday on two funeral pyres. Daeron’s bloodied, charred, seafoam green cape was burned to ashes on one. All that was left of Aemond—his favorite books, his quills and ink, small leather eyepatches from when he was a boy—were torched on the other. “I miss them too.”

Jaehaera’s braid is finished. You reach into a pocket of your emerald green velvet gown to retrieve what you have brought for her: a thin golden chain necklace with Aegon’s ring as a pendant. He can’t wear it anymore. His fingers are too swollen. “What is this?” Jaehaera says as you place the chain around her neck. She lifts the ring and peers at it, gold wings and jade eyes.

“It’s supposed to resemble Sunfyre,” you explain. “Your father loves you very much, Jaehaera. He wanted you to have this ring and keep it with you always.” Aegon didn’t say that; he rarely mentions Jaehaera at all. Sometimes you think he forgets she exists. But she is a part of him, she is his legacy, and you cannot look at any piece of her without seeing the man you love.

“He gave it to me? Like a gift?”

“Yes. A gift.” A gift, an inheritance, a relic, a reminder.

Jaehaera turns around and looks up at you hopefully, vast wave-blue eyes like winter oceans. “Do you think I’ll have another dragon someday?”

Her own infant beast, Morghul, was killed in the Dragonpit before Rhaenyra fled the city. “Maybe,” you tell her. “There are eggs that could hatch someday. And there are a few unclaimed adults left, Silverwing and the Cannibal. Perhaps you’ll tame one.”

She wrinkles her nose in confusion. “What’s a cannibal?”

Someone who murders, devours, fuels their body to the detriment of their soul. “Someone who eats their own kind. Like a dragon who feeds on other dragons.”

“So just like in the war. Dragons killing dragons.”

“Exactly,” you say, a shiver crawling down your spine. “Now go show your new necklace to Grandmother.”

Jaehaera wobbles to her feet and dashes across the firelit bedchamber to where Alicent is slumped in her chair. “Look, look! It’s Sunfyre!” you hear Jaehaera chirping. Alicent examines the ring—skeletal hands trembling, large dark eyes slick with tears—and dutifully fawns over it, telling the little girl how beautiful she looks, how brave she has been. Then she bundles Jaehaera into her boney arms and holds her like she’ll never let go. Autumn catches your gaze from the other side of the room, and when you leave to return to Aegon she follows.

“What is your plan if the Greens lose the battle?” she says in the hallway under an arc of grey stones. Her tone is urgent, her hazel eyes sharp. Everyone knows the Northmen are within days of King’s Landing. Borros Baratheon—a large, loud, abrasive man, but with a bottomless appetite for combat—and his soldiers will march out of the city tomorrow to meet Cregan Stark’s army on the fields of the Crownlands, sparse and grey with winter. The Lord of Storm’s End has spent hours locked in the council chamber discussing strategy with Larys Strong, Corlys Velaryon, and the misfortunate yet courageous Tyland Lannister, maimed by his months of torture at the hands of the Blacks.

“We won’t.” We can’t.

Autumn slams her palm against the wall behind you; the sick thud of flesh against stone reminds you of the day Helaena died. “Wake up. We might. You’d better have your options figured out.”

And you recall Larys’ words on Dragonstone: I think it’s time for you to consider what your options are if a Green victory no longer appears to be viable. “We’ll run,” you say weakly. “We’ll take Aegon and we’ll escape through the corridors under the Red Keep, just like he did before. Cregan Stark will kill Aegon if he finds him. I can’t let that happen. We’ll have to run.”

“Run where?” Autumn snaps pointedly, pushing you towards a conclusion you refuse to acknowledge.

“I don’t know.”

“Where? Where could we go that is beyond the grasp of your wolf if he seizes the capital?”

“Dorne, Essos. Somewhere, anywhere.”

“The king won’t survive a journey like that.”

You cover your face with your hands, feel the biting cold of snowflakes melting in your hair, see the stains of earth on your thighs as Cregan Stark forces them apart. How can I lie with a man who hailed the deaths of people I loved? How can I spend the rest of my life listening to him being called a hero for killing Aegon? How can I give him children? How could I love a baby that was half-made of him? “We ran before. We’ll have to do it again.”

Autumn scoffs. “You have no idea what it means to be a woman on your own in the world. What will you become without a great house, without protection? A prostitute? A peasant? Will you eat scraps covered with rot or mold? Will you live in a tree? Will you beg some family to take you in? And then when the father who is oh-so-gallant in daylight starts fumbling under your blankets once the candles are blown out, will you let him inside you? Or will you fight him off and risk a blade in your guts, your throat? You have no fucking idea what it’s like out there.”

“I don’t care what happens to me if Aegon’s gone.”

“You would abandon Jaehaera? You would abandon me?” Autumn demands. “You speak for us now. You are the only one who can. Our fates are twisted up with yours.”

That’s true. And I promised Helaena I would look out for her daughter. You can’t imagine a life without Aegon; there was a time when he was only a name—and an infamous one, a terrible one, soulless and monstrous—but now he has broken down the eaves of what you were once resigned to call your life and painted colors in the sky you’d never glimpsed before, never even dreamed of. You ask Autumn with genuine, painful bewilderment: “What is the point of learning that something exists only to have it taken away? Why would that happen? Where is the justice in it, where is the reason?”

Autumn smiles, sad and patient. “Ah, this is an affliction of the highborn. You still believe that there is a design, and that life has some amount of fairness in it. There is no divine judgment being passed, my lady. There is no god weighing the worth of your dragon or your wolf or yourself. Life is random, and it is ungovernable, and it is very often cruel. And that makes it all the more remarkable that you knew the king for the time you did. That you ever met him.”

It wasn’t enough. And I can never go back to who I was before. “I’m sorry. I should not complain to you. Your losses have been terrible.”

“It is no contest,” Autumn replies, weary now. “But I should go back to check on the children. They need me.”

“No. They love you.”

And now she beams, sparkling eyes and copper ringlets. She doesn’t need to say it, you can both feel it in the winter-cold air. She loves them in return. She loves them fiercely. As long as they live, she will have reasons to.

When you reach Aegon’s bedchamber, Grand Maester Orwyle is just leaving. He bows to you and grins, pleased that you have both survived the fall and retaking of King’s Landing. He is haggard from his months in the dungeons when Rhaenyra ruled the capital, but he endured. Who would have guessed at the start of this war that the old man had more years left than Aemond or Daeron or harmless little Maelor? You wait in the hallway for the maester to amble sluggishly by, but then when he is gone, you peer through the slit of the half-open door to see that Lord Larys Strong is speaking to Aegon, who is propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows and wearing only his cotton sleeping trousers. He is thin, frail, ghostly pale with the exception of the scars that are a mosaic of white and scarlet and bruise-like violet. Aegon and Larys have not noticed you. You linger just outside the doorway, watching, listening.

You can take care of Aegon as much as you wish now: feed him, clothe him, clean sweat from his brow, dose him with milk of the poppy, rub rose oil into his scars, stretch his legs, test the heat of his skin for fever. He’s too weak to stop you. He can’t walk, can’t stand, can’t stay awake for more than an hour or two at a time, can’t even pour his own wine or milk of the poppy; the glass bottles are too heavy when full. Yesterday, Aegon had to be carried outside in a litter to see the remnants of his brothers burned on the pyres. And he had exchanged a brief, somber glance with Autumn that you neither anticipated nor understood. He acknowledges her so rarely. And yet her small hazel eyes had been alarmed, knowing.

Larys is saying with a grave expression and his restless hands propped in the handle of his cane: “Lord Borros Baratheon is asking for your assurance that as soon as the war is won, you will take his eldest daughter Cassandra as your wife.”

Aegon stares at him, incredulously, impatiently. Aegon has not called you his wife in the company of others since his homecoming. You do not ask why. You already know. It is not because his intentions have changed; it is because if he is not the victor, your life is in less danger as his captive than as his queen. “Surely even a man as brainless as Borros can surmise that there would not be much benefit for the lady now. I am a worm. Useless, pathetic, deformed, no longer virile.”

“He is willing to take the chance, I gather. And he is placing his eggs in more than one basket. He would like another daughter, Floris, to be married to me.”

“Seven hells,” Aegon mutters. Then he turns determined. “I cannot marry another. I won’t do it. I am claimed already, body and soul.”

“I fear how enthusiastically Borros’ men will fight for you if you do not agree to the match. He is risking his life for your cause. He will expect generous repayment.”

Aegon is quiet for a long time. He stares fixedly at his bedside table: a full cup, a large glass bottle of milk of the poppy. His dagger is still there from when you cut and braided his hair for him this morning; he cannot do it himself anymore. At last Aegon says, almost too low for you to discern from the doorway: “He’s not cruel, is he?”

“Who? Borros Baratheon?”

Aegon glares at Larys. “No.”

After a moment, Larys realizes what his king means. “Cregan Stark isn’t cruel. I’ve heard many whispers from many mouths, but I’ve never heard that.”

“Look at me. Don’t lie to me.”

“He isn’t cruel,” Larys says again. “Perhaps the truth is worse. He is measured, competent, merciful, wise. He is honorable. The Manderlys want to torture everyone and the Boltons itch to sharpen their flaying knives but Stark forbids it. He respects the laws of war. He tries to avoid the slaughter of noncombatants. He forbids his men from burning farms or raping women. He is devoted to the woman you call your wife. He takes no mistresses, visits no brothels. Cregan Stark is not a monster. He’s not soulless. He’s just on the wrong side.”

Aegon nods slowly, then his face breaks into a humorless smirk. “Tell Borros Baratheon that I’ll marry whichever daughter he wants me to when the war is over. I’ll marry all four if that is his preference, and bed them all on the wedding night too, one right after the other. Agree to anything he asks for. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

It doesn’t matter because none of it will ever happen, even if the Baratheon army does win the Iron Throne for the Greens. It doesn’t matter because Aegon does not believe he’ll still be here in a month, or two weeks, or perhaps even days.

But he can’t mean that. He’s not thinking clearly. He’s confused, he’s exhausted, he’s in pain, you tell yourself, before remembering that Aemond said it first.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Larys is subdued, sorrowful. He bows deeply to his king. Then he turns to depart.

“One more thing,” Aegon says, gesturing to something on the side of his bed you can’t see from where you’re standing. “I hate to impose upon you further, but I can’t manage it myself. Can you take that and empty it somewhere? I don’t care where. But you must keep it hidden from my wife. The red-haired girl Autumn knows, and so do the maesters now. They are all sworn to secrecy. Can I trust you to exercise the same circumspection?”

Larys is gaping down at an object that is a mystery to you. He begins to stammer out a reply, stops to collect himself, and starts again. “Yes. Yes you can.”

“Good.”

Larys picks up the object; you are puzzled to discover that it is a chamber pot, white and porcelain. And as he navigates around Aegon’s bed and towards the door where you wait, you see that the vessel is full of blood.

You gasp before you can stop yourself, a razor-sharp inhale of breath that both men hear. They spot you, lurking in the doorway like someone lost, someone far from home. Shock bolts across Aegon’s face, and then frustration, and then defeat, and then profound misery.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, I just knew…I knew you’d be upset and I…I didn’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

“How long?”

“It doesn’t matter, Angel.”

“How long?” you ask again. “Just since this morning?”

“Four or five days now.”

“Four or five…?” Your mind whirls like storm winds. He’s dying. He’s really dying. His kidneys are failing and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t cut him open and stitch him back together. There’s no wound to scrub clean with vinegar and then bandage with honey and linen. There’s no brew that can restore the rhythm of his blood and bones and nerves. He’s just dying. That’s all there is. That’s the beginning and the end of it.

“Please don’t cry,” Aegon says, reading your face. “Don’t do that, please don’t, I’ve hurt you enough already.”

His hands stretch out to close the space between you, and as Larys slips from the room you go to Aegon, climb into bed beside him, collapse into him as his arms catch you and rest your head against his bare, scarred chest, his feverish skin mottled with the history of wounds you helped close all those months ago. “I’m sorry,” you sob. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go after Baela and Moondancer on Dragonstone. I should have stopped you. I should have dragged you inside the castle to wait until Aemond and Vhagar could help you. I shouldn’t have let Aemond go to Harrenhal. I shouldn’t have let Daeron fly south. I shouldn’t have let Autumn go back to King’s Landing, and I shouldn’t have let Everett stay there. I shouldn’t have let Helaena leap from the window. I should have stopped Maelor from being sent to the Reach. I should have stopped Rhaenys and the Red Queen from taking flight to burn you in your armor at Rook’s Rest. I should have stopped this! I should have done something! The only good thing I’ve ever had to offer the world was healing but I can’t save anyone, I can’t stop their suffering, I can’t do anything!”

“None of it was within your control, and none of it was your responsibility. I am the king. The fate of my kingdom and my followers rests with me. I wear their spilled blood, not you. I am so full of red I’m overflowing with it.” And he chuckles, sardonic, exhausted. He’s already battling unconsciousness again; you can hear his heartbeat slackening, the slow laborious expanding and contracting of his lungs.

“Aegon,” you say softly, as if afraid to speak it into existence. “What happens if the Baratheons don’t win tomorrow?”

“They will. They have to. There’s nothing I can do for you if they lose.” Then he winces and groans. It’s his back again, his failing kidneys, overrun with so much ruin—burns and breaks and pressure and heartache—that their cadence faltered and then ceased. You grab his cup of milk of the poppy and tilt it against his lips; and how many times have you done this since you met him, burned nearly to death and half-mad at Rook’s Rest? A hundred? Aegon drinks it down, his arms still tight around your waist. They do not loosen until he’s out like a snuffed candle.

You refill the cup on his bedside table with milk of the poppy in case he needs more when he wakes, pick up the dagger you use to cut his disheveled hair, take it to the dresser. And in the cascade of silver moonlight flooding in through the windows, you practice laying the gleaming blade against your wrists, pressing it to the throbbing arteries of your throat, angling the sharpened point of it between a gap in your ribs and towards your racing heart.

Autumn. Jaehaera. Aemond’s child that Alys carries. I still have promises to keep. I still have tasks that cannot be left unfinished.

Helaena’s words surface like a drowned man dredged from the waves: You must whisper into the right ears.

You set the dagger down on top of the dresser and roam to the castle library where Aemond once spent so many hours. You collect a stack of anatomy books and carry them back to Aegon’s bedchamber. There, before the roaring fireplace, you devour them for any scrap of hope, any last resort. You turn pages until one illustration stops you. It is an unclothed man, his major veins etched in blue and his arteries in red, his nerves a faded yellow, his bones white and unshattered, his body a roadmap of the bricks and mortar used by the architects of nature. You have seen this image before. It is the same page Aegon teased you for studying when you were travelling by carriage back to the capital from Rook’s Rest.

You rip out the page, crumple it violently, pitch it into the fire and watch it burn.

~~~~~~~~~~

At dawn, Lord Borros Baratheon leads his men out of the city. You hear them through the glass panes of the windows, closed against the winter chill and flecked with frost: boots marching, hooves of warhorses clomping against cobblestones. They carry with them swords and spears and bows and morning stars like the one Criston Cole was famed for using. Meanwhile, throughout the city, civilians are arming themselves with anything they can find to ward off an invasion of Northmen, creatures they believe to be bestial and mindless. Men carry kitchen knives and clubs fashioned out of bits of furniture or driftwood. Women hide their young children in cupboards and under creaking wooden floors.

“I should be going with them,” Aegon says. He’s just taken another dose of milk of the poppy and is struggling to keep his eyes open. His long, slow blinks close his vacant eyes for ever-increasing intervals. You’ve changed his clothes and cleaned the sweat from his skin as best you can, but he’s burning from the inside out.

“You’re not able to fight, Aegon. Nobody faults you for that. Everyone knows you were wounded in battle.”

“They must think I’m a coward.”

“No, you inspire them. They love you. I love you.”

Aegon doesn’t say it back. He never says it back. He only offers you the same drowsy, mournful phrase of High Valyrian he always does, not knowing that Aemond told you what it means: To your misfortune.

Autumn is with the children in Alicent’s rooms. The castle is tense and as quiet as a crypt—Alicent weeps soundlessly, Larys paces the halls with Corlys and Tyland Lannister, everyone peeks out of windows constantly to see if bannermen of the victor have appeared on the horizon—but she keeps them distracted with stories and games. You cycle between Alicent’s bedchamber and Aegon’s. He is in and out of consciousness; sometimes you perch beside him on the bed, sometimes you lie curled up against him counting the beats of his heart, sometimes you help Autumn read to Jaehaera and Aegon the Younger. It is just after noon when the city bells begin to toll and screams rise from the streets outside the Red Keep. You and Autumn hurry to a window. In the distance, beyond the city gates, there is a swarming mass of infantry, cavalry, archers. Their banners, when you strain your eyes to decipher them, are not the brazen, vivid yellow of House Baratheon. They are night black and an icy, steely grey. They are the colors of House Stark.

“No,” Autumn says, denial in a protracted, helpless exhale. Alicent shrieks, frightening the children. You grab Autumn’s hand and lead her out into the hallway to warn the others if they don’t know already.

Lord Corlys Velaryon comes bounding up a staircase. “There are soldiers down in the secret passageways!” he booms. “Northmen! Armed! I’ve helped our guards bar the doors, but that won’t hold them back forever.”

Autumn looks to you. “Get the children ready to travel,” you tell her. “Find Larys and inform him.”

“Yes, my lady,” she says, and is gone. You sprint in the opposite direction towards Aegon’s bedchamber. You blow the door open like a strong wind, and Aegon startles awake. You rip through his dresser for things he will need: warm clothes, boots, his dagger, bottles of milk of the poppy.

“Get up, Aegon. We have to go. We’ll run, we’ll flee, there are Northmen in the tunnels but we’ll find another way out, we have to try, we have to, if they catch you they’ll—”

“Come sit with me,” he says from the bed, calmly, like you have all the time in the world. He is reaching out for you with one hand.

“What? No, we have to hurry—”

“Angel,” Aegon says. “I need you to come sit with me now.”

Why isn’t he afraid? Why isn’t he frantic? You cross the room with slow, numb footsteps. When you reach the bed, Aegon takes both of your hands in his own. And suddenly you know exactly what he is going to say. You remember what he told his brother in High Valyrian the last time Aemond left Dragonstone. Your voice is trembling and hoarse. Your throat burns like embers. “Aemond was supposed to be here to help us win. But he’s gone. Daeron, Criston, Helaena, Otto, Everett, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Autumn’s baby, so many people are gone.”

Aegon whispers, smiling softly as tears spill down his cheeks, one scarred and the other pure: “I’m not going to get better this time.”

“No,” you moan. “No, Aegon, no. You can’t say that, you can’t tell me that—”

“I’m not going to get better.” Now his palms cradle your face, forcing you to listen. “I’m not. And it’s okay. I’m not angry, I’m not scared. You’ve done everything you could and you’ve bought me more time and I’m so grateful. But I don’t want it to hurt anymore. I’ve been in pain for so long. I’ve been in pain my whole goddamn life.” He kisses you, like tasting something rare and fleeting. His thumbprint skates along the curve of your jaw, memorizing the angles of your bones, the rhythm of your pulse. “Please, Angel. I don’t want to try to run and die on the side of the road somewhere. I don’t want to die with Cregan Stark’s blade at my throat.”

You shake your head, unable to believe, unable to understand.

Aegon glances to the empty cup on his bedside table, to the large glass bottle of milk of the poppy. Then his eyes return to you. “You know how to do it.”

No. Never. But beneath those cold, dark, stormy waters: It would be painless. “I can’t,” you say, overwhelmed with horror.

“Listen, listen to me—”

“No—”

“Angel.”

“I can’t do that to you. Not to you. I can’t, I can’t.”

“When I’m gone, go to Cregan Stark,” Aegon says. “He is an honorable man, he will ensure your survival. He is the only person who can now. He wants to put his mark on the world. He wants to play Kingmaker. Let him. He can decree that my daughter will marry Rhaenyra’s son and ascend to the Iron Throne. He can end the war. Cregan will keep you safe. Tell him that I kidnapped you, that I forced myself on you. Tell him that I wanted an heir with Valyrian blood. Tell him that I was a drunk, a degenerate. Tell him whatever he wants to hear.”

“You would become a monster?”

“To protect you? I would become anything.”

He’s holding you, he’s pulling you into him until you can feel the fever bleeding from his flesh into yours, until you can number the knots of his spine and the ladder-rungs of his ribcage, counting them with your fingers through the sweat-drenched fabric of his cotton shirt. You draw back to look at him, to really look at him, sunken bloodshot eyes and rasping breaths, scar tissue of the body and the soul. You remember the day you met him, how he’d begged to die and been refused, how you brought him back. You postponed a debt, but you never paid it. It’s not possible to ever pay enough. You stack up gold coins in a vault until they touch the ceiling and still the Stranger comes knocking, jangling his purse sewn with scorched skin and chanting: more, more, more.

Aegon glances to the cup again. “How much?” he asks you, hushed like a prayer.

You don’t answer. Instead, you stand and go to the dresser. You open a small wooden door beneath the mirror. Your reflection is a woman you don’t know, someone who walks through fog and memory, someone made of ghosts. You take four clean cups from the cabinet and set them on Aegon’s bedside table. As he watches—eyes glassy with agony, lungs rattling—you fill them all with smooth, pearlescent, lethal liquid, as well as the empty cup that was already there. “Five,” you say, and it sounds nothing like you. “I think three at once would be enough. Five to make sure.”

He sobs with relief, and only now do you realize how badly he needed this. “Thank you. Oh gods, thank you.”

Your own words come back like an echo: I preserve life, I don’t take it. But that was a different lifetime, a different you. Aegon’s fingers are lacing through yours. He is drawing you back onto the bed, he is brushing your hair back from your face, he is kissing the path of tears down your cheeks so he doesn’t waste a drop of you. He’ll never get another taste, another chance; not in this life, not on this earth.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the end with you,” he says. “I really tried.”

“I know, Aegon.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.”

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

He looks down at his left hand, then remembers where his ring has gone. He chuckles, darkly, bitterly, dismayed by all the failings he is built of. “I don’t even have anything to give you.” Then he remembers. “My dagger. Can you get my dagger?”

You are petrified. “Why?”

He grins, dull teeth beneath dazed eyes. “I’m not going to hack off a finger or my exemplary cock or something. I promise. Just get it.”

You fetch the dagger and bring it to the bed, and only then do you realize what he means for you to have. He points to it, then threads it through his pale, swollen fingers: his thin lock of hair that you’ve been weaving for him since the day you met. He wants you to take his braid.

“You’ll have to cut it yourself,” he says. “I don’t think I can.”

You hook the blade beneath the top of his braid, and with a few cautious slices of the dagger it is free. You tuck the braid into a pocket of your gown, thick black velvet to guard against the winter cold. Then you lay the dagger on the bedside table and pick up one of the cups filled to the brim with milk of the poppy. Your tears are scalding and torrential; it is almost impossible to see through them. You smooth back Aegon’s white-blond hair as you pour the blissful, deadly brew through his lips and down his throat, hating yourself, knowing it is the kindest thing you can do for him.

Suddenly, when the cup is half-drained, Aegon pushes it away. “You don’t have to be here. You don’t have to watch,” he says. “I can do the rest. Go, now. Right now. If the Boltons or some other house finds you before Cregan does, they might not recognize you. They might not care. You’re only safe with Cregan Stark. He has to find you first.” Aegon takes the cup with one shaking hand and presses a palm to your shoulder with the other. You haven’t moved. You can’t move. “Go. Leave me. Now. Please go. I love you, but you have to go now.”

“I can’t,” you choke out.

“You have to.”

“I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

“Angel,” he says tenderly, smiling. “I’ll see you again. Just not too soon.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and you kiss him, traces of milk of the poppy on his lips that deaden the thunderstruck horror faintly, powerlessly, like small clouds drifting over the sun.

“If there’s anything interesting on the other side, I’ll find a way to let you know.”

The dreams, you think. “Okay,” you say again, barely audible.

“Now go. Right now. Go.”

You wipe tears from your face with your sleeve as you turn away from him. You can’t look back; if you do, you’ll never be able to walk out of this room. You take the dagger from the bedside table. Your bare feet pad across the cold floor. As you step through the doorway, on the periphery of your vision you can see Aegon swallowing down each cupful of poison as quickly as he can. It won’t take long to stop his heart. Minutes, perhaps. Seconds. You walk into the hallway. Autumn has just arrived with Jaehaera’s tiny hand clasped in her own. A few paces behind her, Alicent and Larys stand with Rhaenyra’s son. Two orphans without choices, two pawns in a much grander game.

Autumn is panicked. “Where should we go? What should we do?” Then she takes another look at your face. Her eyes go wide with terror. “What? What happened?”

“Follow me.” Your voice is low, flat, dark like deep water. Your eyes flick briefly to Lord Larys Strong. “Keep the boy here. He’s not safe with the smallfolk yet. But the Northmen won’t harm him.”

Larys knows. It’s over. He is devastated; and yet you think a part of him might be relieved as well. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“I’m not the queen anymore. I never really was.” You give him Aegon’s dagger. “I don’t think you’ll need this, Lord Larys, but now you have it in the event of any danger. Or in case I can’t convince Cregan Stark to spare you and you decide you’ve had enough of this world. You should get a say in how your life ends. You’ve earned it.”

Then you break away from them and glide through the Red Keep, Autumn and Jaehaera trotting swiftly behind you to keep up. You pass the rookery where Aemond wrote his letters. You sweep through the gardens where Helaena loved to collect her insects. You gaze down to the beach where Daeron landed on Tessarion under a dazzling sun before winter came like a plague to King’s Landing. From inside the castle, you can hear Alicent wailing as she discovers her last child’s lifeless body. What was all of this for? Why did this have to happen? Why didn’t anybody stop it?

Out on the streets of the city, the smallfolk have flocked with their makeshift weapons to defend their homes from the Northmen. But their eyes are darting everywhere and their faces are uncertain as they clutch their clubs made out of the legs of chairs and their rusty kitchen knives. They haven’t decided if it’s futile. They don’t want to be butchered for nothing.

“That’s Autumn!” they shout and sigh, especially the women. “The mother of the king’s bastard son, the one murdered by the half-year queen!” They reach out to skim their hands over Autumn’s gown, her long coppery hair, as if she is a saint or a spirit who can impart good luck upon them, who can change their fates. They fall to their knees to bow to Jaehaera, their king’s only living child, and she blinks at them with benign confusion.

But the smallfolk have a different reception for you. You hear their venomous chattering: “Is that the Celtigar woman?” “Her family put this city through hell.” “They served Rhaenyra.” “She’s a traitor, she’s a thief.” A few of them venture close enough to tug at your gown, to strike at you. A woman’s knuckles rap against your cheekbone, raising a bruise there like lavender in a dusk sky. You think dully: I wonder if they’ll gouge out my eyes with those knives like they did to Everett.

“Get back!” Autumn hisses, shoving the smallfolk away. And when she speaks, they listen. “She is going to the Wolf of Winterfell. She is my protector. She is your protector now too. She is the best chance you have left.” And the crowds open up and the three of you pass through King’s Landing unimpeded, though cloaked in thousands of fascinated gazes.

The King’s Gate has been abandoned; the guards must have feared the Boltons’ flaying knives or Lord Stark’s dark justice. Autumn instructs several hulking men of the smallfolk to open the gate if they wish to be spared from the wolf’s wrath. They are reluctant at first, but do as she asks. When the massive doors creak open, the people of the capital huddle behind the wall and peer out skittishly as you, Autumn, and Jaehaera advance to meet the Northmen, who are bloodied from battle and now within a hundred yards of the city. Above, the sky is thick and iron-grey and frigid. Snowflakes—the first of this winter to touch King’s Landing—begin to fall and land in your hair, and you are reminded of how embers rained from the smoldering pine trees at Rook’s Rest.

“Can you catch one on your tongue?” Autumn asks Jaehaera, and the little girl giggles as they both try.

The Warden of the North rides an immense, shaggy warhorse at the head of what remains of his army. He recognizes you immediately, dismounts, approaches with determined, unbreakable strides. Clement is close behind him.

“You’re alive!” your brother shouts joyously. “And apparently not pregnant with a Targaryen bastard! Praise the gods!”

Cregan Stark does not act as if he’s heard this. The Warden of the North is not as you remember him; he is larger, heavier and broader from the muscles won in battle, coarsened by weather and war. His hair is long and dark and pulled back from his face. He wears a sword at his belt that is taller than you are when it’s unsheathed. He is entombed in leather and furs. He does not hesitate before he lays his hands you. You are betrothed to him, you are his property, would a man ask before he grabs his horses or his dogs?

The Warden of the North does not seize your forearm roughly like Aemond once did. Instead, his massive palms and fingers clasp your face as he marvels at you. You can feel the stains of dirt and ashes he leaves there. You want to scream when he touches you, but you can’t. You want to burn with rage and heartache until you crumble like ruins. Your life is already over. Your life has just begun.

“You have suffered greatly,” Cregan Stark says, a marriage of shock and reverence.

“You have no idea.” Perpetual Resurrection, you think. It doesn’t mean you come back better. It just means you’re still here.

“You are safe now,” Cregan swears. “The Usurper will never harm you again.” And it ends the same way it began: with a man mistaking your allegiance and beckoning you into a destiny that he wholeheartedly believes is greater than any you could have envisioned for yourself.

“He’s dead.”

This stuns Cregan. “When? How?”

“Today. Of old wounds sustained in battle.”

He looks at Jaehaera, noticing her for the first time. “Is that his daughter?”

“Yes,” you say. “She must always be treated with kindness. She must be protected.”

“You have an affinity for her,” Cregan notes, intrigued.

You hear Aegon’s voice, so clearly it cuts like a blade: Tell him whatever he wants to hear. “We have been through great trials together. We survived the same monster.”

The Warden of the North nods. This is a story he craves to be told. “Very well. If it is your wish that she not be discreetly disposed of as a Silent Sister, I will betroth her to Rhaenyra’s surviving son. They will unite the noble houses of Westeros and end this war.”

“The worst of the Greens are dead already. Those who remain should be shown mercy. Alicent is old and ill and broken from loss. She poses no threat. She should be permitted to remain in the company of her granddaughter. Corlys was loyal to Rhaenyra until she falsely imprisoned him for treason, and he belongs on Driftmark with Rhaena. Larys Strong, Tyland Lannister, and Grand Maester Orwyle, if no pardon can be arranged for them, should go to the Wall instead of the scaffold. And Autumn, my companion there with Jaehaera…she was a true friend to me. I owe her my life several times over. She must be permitted to stay with Jaehaera and Aegon the Younger as a caretaker, and reside in comfort in the Red Keep for the remainder of her days.”

“Who do you think you are, sister?!” Clement exclaims. “You’re speaking to the Kingmaker, not some handmaiden! You do not command him!”

“I am not commanding,” you counter levelly. “I am pleading for mercy on behalf of imperfect souls who showed me kindness during my captivity. If granted, I will consider these my wedding gifts.”

“She is remarkable, is she not?” Cregan Stark says, grinning to Clement and several other men who have ventured closer. They wear the sigils of Northern houses: Bolton, Cerwyn, Manderly, Hornwood, Dustin. They chuckle in agreement, stroking their wild beards with huge filthy hands. “Dauntless but merciful. Clever but obedient.” And then the Warden of the North claims your lips with his, chaste but overpowering, the first of a thousand kisses you never desired, a thousand acts of affection for a woman who isn’t really you, feigned resignation and bitten-back rage, eternal war with the interminable knowledge that there is something more, more, more…you just aren’t permitted to have it. It was taken from you, it was ripped from your hands like stolen treasure.

All your life you will have to murmur in wounded agreement when people recount the terrible sins of the Usurper. All your life you will have to praise Cregan Stark for killing millions to rescue you. And the days will pass, weeks, months, years, summers and winters, the births of your children and their own marriages; and when Cregan’s boy Rickon, born of his first wife, produces only daughters, your son Brandon and his descendants will become the heirs to Winterfell. In the desolate North—so far from the ocean, so far from everything Aegon ever knew—your greatest solace will be letters from Autumn as she learns to read and write, books that your husband orders for you from the Citadel, setting bones and treating burns, a tiny lock of braided silver hair that you keep in a hidden drawer of your jewelry box, dreams that you never want to wake up from.

But one day, decades after you leave King’s Landing, you will receive a raven from Queen Jaehaera Targaryen, and she will ask you: You knew the Greens in your youth, Wardeness Stark. You knew Aemond, Daeron, Helaena, Alicent, Otto, Maelor, Aegon the Usurper. What can you tell me of them? What was my father like? Who was he really?

And you’ll pick up your quill and begin writing.

[petchic101]

DA Elvish

I separated all of Dragon Age's known Elvish into Nouns, idioms ect

Nouns

Titles/Types of people/Groups

Anaris: – according to an old tale, he was once tricked by Fen'Harel while dueling the Great Hunter Andruil

Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt is the elven Goddess of the Hunt, known also as "blood and force" and the "great hunter."

Arlathvhen: Meeting of the Dalish clans that occurs every ten years. Means "for love of the people."

Asha'bellanar: "The Woman of Many Years." How the Dalish refer to Flemeth.

Da'len: Little child; little one.

Daern'thal: Known Forgotten One

Din: The dead.

Dirthamen: Keeper of Secrets, is the twin brother of Falon'Din and is the elven god of secrets and knowledge, and master of the ravens Fear and Deceit. Dirthamen gave to elves the gift of knowledge and taught them loyalty and faith in family.

Elgar: Spirit.

Dirth'ena enasalin: "Knowledge that led to victory"; the Elvish term for the Arcane Warrior or, more recently, Knight Enchanter disciplines.

Durgen’len: Children of the stone; the Ancient Elvish term for the dwarves.

Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance also known as the All-Father, the Eldest of the Sun and He Who Overthrew His Father—represents fatherhood and vengeance, and leads the pantheon with the goddess Mythal.

Elvhen: Elven name for their own race; our people.

Elvhenan: The name of the elven civilization before the arrival of humans in Thedas; the place of our people.

Era'harel: Demon-mage; similar to an arcane horror.

Evanuris: Leader; Translated by Dorian in context as "mage leader"; what the elvhen called their gods.

Falon: Friend.

Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide is the elven God of Death and Fortune and guides the dead to the Beyond. He and his twin brother, Dirthamen, are the eldest children of Elgar'nan the All-Father and Mythal the Protector.

Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf is an enigmatic trickster god of the elves, whose supposed betrayal of both the benevolent Creators and the malefic Forgotten Ones is the only explanation most elves have for the destruction of Arlathan. Dalish clans view him with wariness and seek to protect themselves and their kin from his treachery. It is revealed by Solas in Mythal's temple that this could be a misinterpretation by the Dalish and instead he was the god of rebellion.

Geldauran: Known Forgotten One

Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla is called the Mother of the halla—white deer-like creatures revered by the Dalish and used to pull their aravel, or "landships"—and goddess of navigation.

Ghil-Dirthalen: "One who guides seekers of knowledge true."

Ghilan'him banal'vhen: "The path that leads astray": a derogatory term for Arcane Warriors among those elves who eschewed physical combat.

Hahren'al: A gathering of hahrens during the Arlathvhen.

Hahren: Elder; used as a term of respect by the Dalish as well as by city elves for the leader of an alienage.

Harillen: Opposition.

June: God of the Craft is the elven Master of Crafts. He is variously described either as a brother to Andruil and Sylaise or as Sylaise's husband. He taught the elves to make bows, arrows, and knives to hunt Andruil's gifts.

Lethallin/Lethallan/Lethallen: Casual reference used for someone with whom one is familiar; generally, lethallin is used for males while lethallan is used for females; lethallen has been stated to be the appropriate gender neutral term unless otherwise stated later in canon, though it is likely to remain the same. Note: Though "lethallin" is usually used for males and "lethallan" for females, as stated above

Lethanavir: Another appellation of Falon'Din the elven god of death and fortune who guides the dead to the Beyond.

Mien'harel: Rebellion; depending on the interpretation, a violent call for justice; a concept that when humans push the elven population too far they must remind them that even a "short blade" must be respected; most commonly a term used by city elf.

Mythal: the Great Protector, the Protector and the All-Mother, and goddess of love, is the patron of motherhood and justice and leads the pantheon with her male counterpart, Elgar'nan.

Shemlen: The original name elves use for the human race; continues to see use as a slang term amongst the City Elves ("shems") even though its meaning has largely been lost; literally "quick children".

Somniari: Dreamer.

Sylaise: the Hearthkeeper is the goddess of all the domestic arts and the sister of Andruil the Huntress. Sylaise gave the elves fire, and taught them how to weave rope and thread, and to use herbs and magic for healing purposes.

Vhenallin: Friends of the People.

Nature

Adahl/Adhal: Tree.

Adahlen: Wood.

Alas: Earth, dirt.citation needed

Dahl'amythal: Tree of Mythal from which Dalish Keepers’ staves are cut.

Durgen: Stone.citation needed

Elgara: Sun.

Felandaris: Demon weed.

Vallas: Set, as in the setting of the sun.

Vallasdahlen: Trees planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dalish kingdom that grew into a mighty wood; life-trees.

Vhenadahl: The tree of the people.

Vhen'alas: The land itself, as in "the ground"; literally "our earth".citation needed

Vunin: Day.

Animal

Fen: Wolf.

Hallas: are a type of horned stag; some are herded by the Dalish—who use them to pull their aravels, or landships. Their milk is also made into cheese and butter.[2] The Dalish do not consider them beasts of burden but noble companions. To get them to accompany a clan, the Dalish elves ask rather than force them to.

Hanal'ghilan: Elven name for the mythical golden halla said by the Dalish to appear during times of great need; the pathfinder.

Body/Self

Banal'ras: Shadow.

Renan: Voice.

Taren: Mind.

Vallaslin: Blood writing; The art of tattooing adopted by some elves to more prominently display their worship of the traditional elven pantheon.

Vhenan: Heart; often used as a term of endearment.

Concept

Abelas: Sorrow; to be sorry.

Aravel: A wagon used by the Dalish; also a physical and spiritual path, a journey with purpose. Humans call them "landships."

Atish’an: Peace.

Athim: Humility.

Bellanaris: Eternity.

Din'an: Death; end.

Din'anshiral: A journey of death.

Dirth: A term for knowledge or secrets; tell; speak.citation needed

Enasalin: Victory.

Enansal: Blessing.

Enaste: Favor.

Halani: Help.

Hamin: Rest.

Harellan: Trickster; used by the Dalish to mean "traitor to one's kin".

Melana: Time.

Melanada: All time. 

Melava: Time;

Revas: Freedom.

Shiral: Journey.

Sulahn'nehn: Rejoice; joy.

Sulevin: Purpose.

Vir: Way; we.

Weapons/Equipment

Assan: Arrow.

Bor'assan: Bow.

Felassan: Slow arrow.

Mi: Blade.citation needed

Places

Arlathan: The major city of Elvhenan, original homeland of the elves; from the phrase "ar lath’an" meaning, "This place of love".

Banalhan: A name for the Blight or its place of origin; the place of nothing.

Dirthavaren: The promise; the Elven name for the Exalted Plains.

Halamshiral: The capital of the second elven homeland in the Dales; the end of the journey.

Setheneran: Land of waking dreams; a place where the Veil is thin.

Tarasyl'an Te'las: The place where the sky was held back; Ancient Elven name for Skyhold.

Vhenas: Home.

Vir'abelasan: The place of the way of sorrows; refers to the Well of Sorrows.

Other

Aravel: A wagon used by the Dalish; also a physical and spiritual path, a journey with purpose. Humans call them "landships."

Banalhan: A name for the Blight or its place of origin; the place of nothing.

Elgar'arla: Spirit-trap; a binding circle to hold a spirit or demon.

Eluvian: Mirror; literally "seeing glass."

Mi'durgen: Diamond; literally 'blade stone'.

Adjective

Eth: Safe.citation needed

Mirthadra: Honored.

Sa: One; one more.

Shem: Quick.

Tan: Three.

Then: Awake; alert.citation needed

Verb

Abelas: Sorrow; to be sorry.

Dirth: A term for knowledge or secrets; tell; speak.citation needed

Dirthara: Learn;

Dirthera: To tell tales.

Enfenim: To fear.

Ghilana: To guide.

Ghilas: To go.

Harel: To trick or deceive;

Him: Become.

Las: Grant; give.

Lasa ghilan: Grant/give guidance.

Lath: Love of being; to be in love.

Numin: Cry.

Nuvenin: Say, as in “as you say”.

Samahl: Laugh.

Somniar: To dream.

Sulahn'nehn: Rejoice; joy.

Sulahn: Sing.

Uthenera: The name of the ancient practice of immortal elves who would "sleep" once they tired of life; immortal; waking sleep; literally "eternal waking dream".citation needed

Pronoun

Ar: First person pronoun; I, me.

Mala: Your.

Mir: My.

Var: Our.

Vir: Way; we.

Ect

Banal: Never.

Dar: To be.citation needed

In: In.

Ir: I am.

Iras: Where.

Irassal: Wherever.

La: And.

Na: Is.

Pre/Suffix

-an: Suffix indicating place or location.

Da: Diminutive prefix; small.

Idioms

Andaran atish’an: "Enter this place in peace." A formal elven greeting.

Aneth ara: A sociable or friendly greeting, more commonly used among the Dalish themselves rather than with outsiders.

Ara seranna-ma: A way to excuse oneself, such as after a sneeze or belch.

Banal nadas: Nothing is known for certain./Not necessarily.

Boranehn: Lost joy.

Dareth shiral: farewell; literally "Safe journey."

Enasal: Joy in triumph over loss; a variation of joyful relief.

Falon’Din enasal enaste: A prayer for the dead.

Fen'Harel enansal: The Dread Wolf's blessing.

Fen'Harel ma ghilana: "Dread Wolf guides you." Indicates someone being misled.

Halam'shivanas: The sweet sacrifice of duty.

Hellathen: Noble struggle.

Ir abelas: I am sorry.

Lathbora viran: Roughly translated as "the path to a place of lost love," a longing for a thing one can never really know.

Nadas: Inevitability; something that must be; used as an expression of obligation, i.e. "must".

Ma nuvenin: As you say.

Ma vhenan: My heart; sometimes shortened simply to vhenan, "heart"; a term of endearment.

Ma serannas: My thanks./Thank you.

Mana. Ma halani: Help me. 

Mythal'enaste: Mythal's favor.

Penshra! Ghilas vellathan!: Politely translated as "I prefer that you remain close."

Revasan: The place where freedom dwells.

Sahlin: Now; is come.

Sa'vunin: One more day.

Solas: Pride; to stand tall.

Solasan: A prideful place.

Suledin: The concept of finding strength in enduring loss or pain; endure.

Tel'abelas: I'm not sorry.

Telanadas: Nothing is inevitable.

Var lath vir suledin!: Our love will endure

Vir enasalin!: We will win!

Vir sumeil: We are close.

Commands/Threats/Curses

Bellanaris Din'an Heem: "Make you dead."

Dirthara-ma: "May you learn." Used as a curse.

Fenedhis: Meaning officially undefined as of yet; a common curse.

Fenedhis lasa: Meaning officially undefined as of yet. A common curse.

Fen'Harel ma halam: "Dread Wolf ends you." A threat.

Garas: Come.

Garas quenathra: "Why are you here?/Why have you come?" Spoken by the voices of the Vir'abelasan

Masal din'an: A threat, meaning unknown.

Na abelas: You'll be sorry.

Na din'an sahlin!: Your death is come!

Na melana sahlin: Your time is come.

Specific Sentences

Ar lasa mala revas: "You are free." More literally "I give you your freedom."

Ar lath ma, vhenan: "I love you, heart/my heart"

Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris: Fen'Harel’s secret greeting. Meaning unknown.

Atish'all Vir Abelasan: "Enter the path of the Well of Sorrows."

Dirth ma banal. Mar solas ena mar din: "You have learned nothing. Your pride will be your death/downfall." A Dalish saying.

Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din: Roughly means: "Your pride is responsible for everything that has gone wrong; you will die alone."

Ir abelas, ma vhenan: "I am filled with sorrow for your loss, my heart."

Ir tel'him: I'm me again.

Ma banal las halamshir var vhen: You do nothing to further our people. 

Ma harel, da’len: You lie, child.

Ma harel lasa!: You lied to me.

Ma ghilana mir din'an: Guide me into death.

Ma melava halani: You helped me.

Mala suledin nadas: Now you must endure.

Malas amelin ne halam: I hope you find a new name.

Melana en athim las enaste: Now let humility grant favor.

Sulevin ghilana hanin: Roughly translates to "purpose guides to glory". This is an inscription on the back of the Dalish shield called "The Path to Glory".

Sylaise enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris.: Dalish marriage vows.

Tel garas solasan: Come not to a prideful place.

[lovezbrownies]

The First Ascension: Understand.

Masterlist - Story's Masterlist

Synopsis: Within your strange dream you uncover things the average person would never be able to, only due to her mercy.

PAIRING: Yandere Goddess x GN!Reader.

Apeearing Characters: Mother Adonis, Siolis Ludenhart.

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 You are here!

Entry One

A book for my every thought… That is your purpose. A humble bundle of papers bound by leather, your only duty is to bear the weight of my words, my story.

It was Bloodwen, my darling, who gave me this idea. Ever perceptive, she noticed how I bury my emotions beneath duty, my thoughts left to fester, unspoken. She suggested that pouring them onto paper might lighten the heaviness in my heart.

Yet, I cannot bring myself to tell her the truth. Something terrible looms on the horizon, a shadow I can neither ignore nor outrun. I see it, visions of my end intertwined with hers.

But I will not allow it. I will fight fate itself if I must. No one—nothing—will take my Bloodwen from me. She is my very sunshine, the light that keeps the darkness at bay.

Entry Eight.

I hate this.

This gnawing feeling in my chest. The way my peers, my so-called friends, glance at me with veiled disdain. The sudden silences that fall when I enter the room, as though my presence has become a curse rather than a comfort.

I gave them everything. Lands, power, purpose—gifts bestowed upon me by our god, the omniscient creator of this universe. Once, I was alone, the sole inhabitant of my domain. Perhaps it was pity that moved him to grant me companions: five perfect beings, each unique and radiant in their own right.

Initially, there were six of us. But betrayal stained our unity, and the traitor incurred the wrath of our god. Their punishment was absolute: obliteration. From seven, we became six.

Then, our god left. His boredom with this universe outweighed his investment in it, and so he turned his gaze to a new creation. Before departing, he chose me, his first creation, to bear the mantle of leadership. With a fraction of his boundless power, I was named goddess of this universe. I was eager, honored even, to shoulder such a burden.

But now I see the cost.

The five I once called friends grew distant. Greed seeped into their hearts like poison, and the respect they once held for me twisted into resentment. They no longer see me as a friend to love but as a figure to fear, to begrudge.

Bloodwen was the exception. My closest ally, my lover, my everything. I shared my heart with her, my land, my trust. The others—my peers—each received lands as well, dividing the world into what are now called continents. With these vast territories came the need for Lords, rulers who would oversee them.

I fought for a say in their selection. Bloodwen, stubborn and proud, wished to make all the choices herself, but her judgment is… flawed. Her choices are a reflection of her hubris, not wisdom.

For Goroth, the continent I hold closest to my heart, I chose Ludenhart. Unlike the others, he has never betrayed me, never spoken ill of me. He defends me, even when Bloodwen and her favored protégé hurl their venomous words. He took up the land of Xelera.

And yet, despite it all… I feel empty.

Entry Sixty-Three.

Traitors. All of them.

They feasted on my generosity, basked in the light of my blessings, and repaid me with treachery. Bloodwen, most of all.

I swear upon my name, I will have my vengeance. Her and her cursed lineage will suffer as no beings have suffered before. I will curse her bloodline, ensure that every year another of her kin feels the sting of my wrath. She will know what it means to cross me.

And I will not stop with her.

I will create my own children—five of them, each a reflection of the primal forces that shaped our beginnings. One of Fire, one of Wind, one of Water, one of Earth, one of Light. And the youngest, the most powerful, shall embody Darkness itself.

Each child will bear a singular purpose: to reclaim what was stolen from me and to destroy those who wielded it against me.

My youngest shall face Bloodwen’s final descendant. The previous title owner of Darkness shall be defeated by its new title owner, the last of my kin. A cruel symmetry that will seal her fate.

Through my children, I will bring my enemies to their knees. I will take back my universe, one piece at a time.

Words fail you, your mouth hanging slightly agape as your eyes devour entry after entry, each one bleeding with raw emotion, as though the pen itself had been tethered directly to the author’s heart.

Dozens of books surround you, each one a diary chronicling Adonis’ life—an intricate tapestry of triumph, heartbreak, and the unrelenting passage of time. Pages recount exhilarating adventures with her children, serene afternoons of tea and meditation, and always, without fail, fragments of her betrayal. In some, the wound is fresh and omnipresent, a constant thread binding her thoughts. In others, it’s little more than a passing remark, a distant memory dulled by the joy and love her children brought her.

It seems, as she aged, Adonis allowed the warmth of her children’s devotion to fill the void left by those who had wronged her. The love they offered her—the love she had deserved from the beginning—softened the bitterness of her past. With them, she found solace, a reason to move forward, and a clarity that transformed her anger into quiet indifference. Yet, even amidst her newfound peace, her ambition remained steadfast.

“I want to show myself to my people once more, to embrace them with my blessings,” one diary entry declared, the resolve in its ink practically leaping off the page.

Now you understand me, don’t you little lamb? I can feel your pity. I can feel your anger. And I have felt it all before.

The calm voice from before returns, resonating within your mind like a gentle tide washing over your thoughts. Its tone is serene, yet impossibly commanding.

A wave of tranquility envelops you, lulling your body into a profound stillness. It feels as though you’re being wrapped in a blanket woven from love and adoration itself. Your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth all-consuming, threatening to pull you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The library begins to fade, its walls dissolving into sunlight and greenery. Before you stretches a small garden, alive with vibrant flowers and lush, welcoming grass. Its beauty is intoxicating, so much so that you can’t resist. Your legs carry you forward, and you lower yourself into the soft embrace of the earth, reclining among the spades of grass.

As your eyes flutter shut, you become aware of something beneath your head—warm, plush, comforting. A hand holds yours, another gently strokes your head, the motions tender and unhurried.

“You have so much work ahead of you,” the voice whispers, soothing and steady. “Rest for now, my agent of chaos. You will be our assistant of eons.”

And as the warmth deepens, enveloping you entirely, you drift away, carried by the gentle cadence of her voice and the promise of something far greater awaiting you.

Siolis stood silently in their office, their posture rigid, gaze unwavering as they watched over your sleeping form. The room was filled with the quiet hum of sunlight filtering through tall windows, casting long shadows over the polished floor. Time stretched endlessly as Siolis waited, their thoughts moving at a methodical pace.

You had to wake soon. Only then could Siolis escort you safely home. Their siblings—so proud and ignorant—had no inkling of your importance, both to the greater plan and to Mom. That ignorance was a blessing for now, though it left Siolis with the solitary responsibility of ensuring your safety. Tonight, at the meeting, Mom would make it clear where you stood. Until then, no harm would come to you under Siolis’s watch.

Their attention briefly shifted back to the paperwork cluttering their desk. Some of it concerned the so-called "box of nightmares," which had sent the local police force into a frenzy. Siolis smirked faintly at their own cleverness. The box contained only their severed body parts—arms, legs, fingers, all expertly detached and meticulously stripped of identifying features.

Regenerating those parts was second nature, the pain little more than a fleeting inconvenience. Still, the thought of the officers poring over meaningless clues, chasing their tails, amused them to no end.

A faint groan broke the stillness. Siolis’s head snapped toward the couch, their gaze sharpening. You stirred, your features contorted in confusion as you slowly sat up.

“Whe–Where am I…?” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

Your eyes scanned the room, widening slightly as they landed on Siolis. They were seated at their desk, bathed in the golden halo of morning light streaming in from behind. The ethereal glow framed their dark silhouette, their composed expression only adding to the surreal quality of the scene.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Siolis greeted, their tone smooth and calm, with the faintest edge of humor. “Did you rest well?”

You blinked, trying to gather your bearings. “I… I guess? What happened?”

Siolis stood, their movements deliberate and fluid, and crossed the room to stand a short distance from you. Their presence was magnetic, yet there was a certain restraint in the way they regarded you.

“You fainted,” they said plainly, their deep voice soft but firm. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and your body finally gave out. I brought you here so you could rest.”

You frowned, your hands fumbling to smooth out your wrinkled clothes. “I fainted?” The word felt foreign on your tongue. You couldn’t remember the last time something like that had happened.

“Yes,” Siolis confirmed, their tone carrying an air of finality. “And I’ll ensure it doesn’t happen again. From now on, you’ll prioritize your well-being.”

Their words were more a command than a suggestion, but there was no malice in them. Instead, their gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, you caught something warmer beneath their composed exterior.

“I—I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” you mumbled, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks.

Siolis gave a soft hum, as though amused by your apology. “You didn’t cause trouble,” they assured you, their voice quiet yet firm. “But it’s my responsibility to look after you, and I take that very seriously.”

They held out their arm, waiting patiently for you to accept it. “Come,” they said, their tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll walk you home. We’ll talk more along the way.”

Hesitant but comforted by their presence, you placed your hand in on their inner elbow. Their grip was cool, steady, yet surprisingly gentle as they helped you to your feet.

As they guided you toward the door, you couldn’t help but glance up at their sharp profile. The way they carried themselves—calm, composed, yet protective—made you ache with questions you weren’t sure you were ready to ask. How are they so… at peace?

“Chief, you know this is impossible to solve, don’t stress yourself over the facts and clues and focus more on adding security to the palace!”

“There’s already too much security roaming these very halls. Don’t lecture me about my priorities, Captain, you are not in the position to do so. What bothers me most is… God, just follow after me.”

“The fuck… Are those…”

“One arm for each year of the natural aging process, starting off at age 5. Same skin tone, same mole on the subjects finger. These aren’t different people, this is… This has been in their plans far before we expected… Captain this goes deeper than we ever thought.”

[saturniasxenos]

Maybe EPIC the musical NPTs? Odysseus, Telemachus, Poseidon, or Hermes mostly if any please :D

EPIC: The Musical ID Pack

Inside this pack you'll find a full collection of Pronouns, Titles, and Names relating or connecting to Epic: The Musical (An adaptation of Homer's Odyssey by Jorge Rivera-Herrans, who wrote music and lyrics, orchestrated, and produced the tracks!)

Some focus on Odysseus, Telemachus, Poseidon, and Hermes, this pack will also include many Greek related pronouns, titles, and names since Odysseus originates from Greece. You will also find many references to the musical!

Pronouns:

An/Anci/Ancient/Ancients/Ancientself

Ody/Odyss/Odyssey/Odysseus/Odysseyself

Ody/Odyss/Odysse/Odysseus/Odysseusself

Uly/Ulyss/Ulysse/Ulysses/Ulyssesself

Ki/Kin/King/Kings/Kingself

Ca/Cap/Captain/Captains/Captainself

Mo/Mon/Monster/Monsters/Monsterself

Hae/Heroe/Hero/Heros/Heroself

Ep/Epi/Epic/Epics/Epicself

Mu/Musi/Musical/Musicals/Musicalself

So/Son/Song/Songs/Songself

Si/Sin/Sing/Sings/Singself

Ly/Lyr/Lyric/Lyrics/Lyricself

My/Myt/Myth/Myths/Mythself

Myth/Mytho/Mythology/Mythologys/Mythologyself

De/Dei/Deity/Deitys/Deityself

Go/God/Gods/Gods/Godself

God/Godde/Goddess/Goddesses/Goddessself

Ith/Itha/Ithaca/Ithacas/Ithacaself

Cy/Cyclo/Cyclop/Cyclops/Cyclopself

Le/Legen/Legendary/Legends/Legendaryself

Un/Under/Underworld/Underworldself

Pup/Puppet/Puppeteer/Puppeteers/Puppeteerself

War/Warri/Warrior/Warriors/Warriorself

Sto/Stor/Storm/Storms/Stormself

Ru/Ruth/Ruthless/Ruthlessly/Ruthlessself

Tro/Troy/Troys/Troys/Troyself

Oce/Ocea/Ocean/Oceans/Oceanself

Thu/Thun/Thunder/Thunders/Thunderself

Wis/Wisdo/Wisdom/Wisdoms/Wisdomself

Ven/Vengean/Vengeance/Vengeances/Vengeanceself

Mes/Messen/Messenger/Messengers/Messengerself

Tra/Trav/Travel/Travels/Travelself

Com/Commer/Commerce/Commerces/Commerceself

Tri/Trick/Trickster/Tricksters/Tricksterself

Herm/Herme/Hermes/Hermes/Hermesself

Oly/Olymp/Olympus/Olympians/Olympusself

Wo/Wol/Wolf/Wolves/Wolfself

Littlewo/Littlewol/Littlewolf/Littlewolves/Littlewolfself

Cha/Cham/Champ/Champs/Champself

Fa/Fat/Fate/Fates/Fateself

Tele/Telema/Telemach/Telemachus/Telemachusself

Char/Charyb/Charybdis/Charybdi/Charybdisself

Gi/Gian/Giant/Giants/Giantself

Wi/Win/Wind/Winds/Windself

Mo/Mol/Moly/Molys/Molyself

Scy/Scyll/Scylla/Scyllas/Scyllaself

Si/Sire/Siren/Sirens/Sirenself

Tri/Trid/Trident/Tridents/Tridentself

Vo/Voya/Voyage/Voyages/Voyageself

Pos/Posei/Poseidon/Poseidons/Poseidonself

Te/Teth/Tethy/Tethys/Tethysself

Sur/Survive/Survival/Survivals/Survivalself

Tro/Troja/Trojan/Trojans/Trojanself

Troj/Trojan/Trojanwar/Trojanwars/Trojanwarself

Athe/Athen/Athena/Athenas/Athenaself

Ze/Zeu/Zeus/Zeus/Zeusself

il/ili/iliad/iliads/iliadself

Ho/Hom/Homer/Homers/Homerself

Ci/Circ/Circe/Circes/Circeself

Cal/Calyp/Calypso/Calypsos/Calypsoself

Titles:

Olympic God

Olympic Goddess

Olympic Deity

Warrior of The Sea

Epic Hero

(X) Who Fought The Cyclops

(X) Who Fought Poseidon

(X) Who Sung With Scylla

(X) Who Survived The Gods' Wrath

The One Who Became a Monster

Survivor of The Ocean

Survivor of The Thunder

The Hero of Ithaca

The Prince of Ithaca

The Princess of Ithaca

The Messenger

The Messenger God

God of The Ocean

Goddess of Wisdom

Traveled The Underworld

(X) Who Survived The Underworld

Lover of The Ocean

Lover of Music

Singer of The Ocean

Messenger of The Ocean

(X) Who Dances With Kelpies

(X) Who Sings With Sirens

(X) Who Betrays

The Seafarer

Captain of The Sea

Captain of The Ship

(X) Who Waits With Fate

The Horror of Life and Fate

Names:

Fem: Anastasia, Asteria, Astraea, Acacia, Aphrodite, Amaryllis, Andromeda, Althea, Ariadne, Alexandra, Alexandria, Agnes, Agatha, Athena, Anthea, Alethea, Ambrosia, Arcadia, Apollonia, Angelia, Beryl, Cassia, Chloe, Catherine, Cassandra, Calliope, Callsa, Callie, Cosima, Cressida, Cora, Clio, Circe, Christina, Calista, Calypso, Cynthia, Diana, Desdemona, Dorothea, Dorothy, Doris, Delia, Daphne, Enyo, Elara, Eulalia, Gaia, Hestia, Helena, Hera, Hermione, Helen, Isadora, Ilya, Io, Iris, Ianthe, Irene, Katherine, Katie, Lydia, Lyra, Lois, Myra, Melody, Maya, Magdalena, Margaret, Maia, Melia, Melissa, Nyx, Nicole, Nerissa, Narcissa, Olympia, Ophelia, Pandora, Phoebe, Petra, Philippa, Philomena, Persephone, Penelope, Rhea, Stephanie, Siren, Scylla, Sophia, Selene, Sofia, Sybil, Thalia, Thea, Theresa, Xanthe, Zoe, Zoey, Zephyrine,

Masc: Anastasios, Aeneas, Aeson, Aetas, Anax, Ajax, Alec, Alexander, Acacius, Atlas, Apollo, Ares, Anatole, Andrew, Ambrose, Achilles, Bastian, Chryses, Cyril, Crius, Cosmo, Charon, Cassius, Cadmus, Christian, Cole, Chronos, Castor, Christopher, Deimos, Damian, Damon, Dion, Dionysus, Darius, Dorian, Draco, Deacon, Eugene, Eros, Elias, Erebus, Galen, Gregory, George, Helios, Hypnos, Hyperion, Heracles, Hercules, Hector, Hermes, Homer, Isidore, Icarus, Ion, Jonas, Jason, Kratos, Kronos, Kastor, Leander, Lysander, Linus, Lex, Leonidas, Leon, Lazarus, Luke, Lukas, Lycidas, Midas, Morpheus, Nicholas, Nico, Neilos, Nestor, Orpheus, Ozias, Oceanus, Odysseus, Philip, Peter, Perseus, Percy, Phaedra, Phoenix, Poseidon, Pollux, Prometheus, Proteus, Rhodes, Simon, Stephen, Sebastian, Tobias, Telemachus, Theseus, Theodore, Theo, Titan, Thanatos, Timothy, Ulysses, Vulcan, Xander, Xanthos, Zeus, Zeno, Zander,

Neu: Asterios, Areti, Arete, Aether, Akakios, Andreas, Aris, Adonis, Artemis, Afroditi, Boreas, Bronte, Basil, Chrysanthos, Chara, Cassiopeia, Damaris, Evdokia, Eryx, Eirini, Effie, Etimia, Eos, Echo, Evangeline, Fotini, Fotios, Hyacinth, Iakovos, Ione, Iro, Indigo, Khaos, Kore, Keti, Kostas, Kyriakos, Meropi, Myrto, Nefeli, Neophytos, Nektarios, Nereus, Narcissus, Orestis, Orion, Paris, Styx, Serafim, Sotos, Stamatis, Stavros, Stelios, Theano, Theodoros, Varvara, Venetia, Voula, Xene, Xenofon, Zinon, Zephyr, Zoi, Zelos,

I spent a good hour scrolling through an entire site of names originating from Greece, Ancient Greece, and Greek Mythology. So enjoy. ❤

[brittlefcrged]

Reese's (though it's one of the few verses she goes by Clarissa in) DURGE BG3 verse: a lot of the childhood and adolescent stuff is the same - she and her twin were magical prodigies, sent to a private master for tutelage in early childhood where they both suffered a multitude of abuse at their mentor's hands. Her sister died when they were seven and Reese shut down hard core after that, she lost access to her magic and was sent back home, and then shuttled off to a general care ward after her (presumed) parent's death.

Psychic trauma et al persisted for many years between her own suppressed abilities and the effects of the Bhaal blood trying to awaken / take control until finally after a near death experience in her late teens / early twenties, she was approached by a would-be patron ( @faithsreward ) who reached out to her on the bridge between life and death and offered her vengeance and power. Several years are spent learning to reharness her abilities and learning how to access her new powers - those granted by her deity and those that are her birthright as a Bhaalspawn, though she loathes her 'father' for abandoning her and her sister to the abuse they endured as well as letting her sister die, etc. and has every intention of betraying her blood-kin and taking over not just Faerun, and the crown, but replacing her father on his throne as well.

All of her planning and machinations are thrown for a loop when she is kidnapped by [redacted] and many months are lost as she's held on the [redacted] until the events of the prologue happen and she awakens on the ship. Amnesiac Clarissa is initially hesitant to give in to the urges for blood and wanton violence despite the fact that they feel familiar and a comfort to her; how the plot continues will depend entirely on each verse's interactions with other players / writers here.

Of note: I do have another BG3 verse where Reese is a sorcereress and is a disciple of a dark goddess (again, Phel), intent on culling the corrupt and vile abusers, especially of children and women, from the world by whatever means necessary, if the Durge content is not up your alley!

[sailoryue]

Are you interested in a fun, fresh server?! One that has plenty of canons still open?! Come check us out!

Lore:

We are on the brink of Endgame, our way! Meaning you as the writer and player get to take place in all of the chaos that is the MCU's Endgame! and we are a modern day MCU.

Hela, the Goddess of Death has returned and returned with a vengeance. Along with Hela, a new threat looms from space. A Titan called Thanos. And to make matters even worse, sentinels have been brought forth to eradicate the X-Men! Want to play as a hero, or a hero turned villain? A villain or a villain turned hero? An anti-hero? Want to write your favorite character's story your way? This is the place to do it!

*Server is 16-26, please.*

What do we offer?!

-16-26 age limit to keep things diverse, and offer a chance to join for a wide range of people.

-An interactive staff made up of neurodivergent, mentally ill, MCU and comic lovers.

-A wide range of canons are still available! Even if your favorite is taken, we are happy to help you find a character!

-We welcome all from poc to the LGBTQIA+/ally community, to kins/systems, to people who simply love the MCU and marvel!

-A diverse plot and subplots that revolve around a multitude of characters.

*The Roster and Reserved list.*

*The Most Wanted list*

We also allow for original characters!

Come on in! I promise we're friendly, chill and love new people!

[naomisnews]

Probably should be the time I introduce you all to my Tavs, shouldn’t I?

Roll call!!

Abigail of Darnsford - Human Paladin

Oath of Vengeance, Abigail grew up on a farm with her parents before they were suddenly murdered by an evil Dark Lord. She defeated him to protect the realm, but as the Crown would rather see her under their thumb instead of a hero, she ran away and made her Oath.

Despite initially being closed off and focusing on the task at hand, her heart opened up more and more, especially to Gale of Waterdeep, falling in love with him unexpectedly.

She’s my first Tav and the first run I completed, so she’s extra special to me

Daiyana - Half-Elf Bard

College of Lore, Daiyana has a really tough background, considering the fact they are also a Bhaalspawn. As they’re my DND character, I’m gonna be very vague, but let’s say their upbringing was horrible, and they’re now on their World Tour away from their home of Fullova, entertaining the bars by day, and “entertaining” the brothels by night. Despite themselves, they ended up being drawn to Astarion, considering they had similar experiences in their lives, so they’re helping each other heal as well as introducing love to each other for the first time in so long.

Thalia Fairbairn - Halfling Ranger

Beast master, Thalia is my Lord of the Rings OC, born and raised in The Shire. She joined the Fellowship, and longed for adventure. Her mother tried to arrange her and Frodo together, but Thalia only sees him as her childhood best friend, and plus she is attracted to women. After the fall of Sauron, Thalia took up the mantle of Strider and became Ranger when Aragorn became King of Rohan.

Thalia finds it hard to trust in this new land of Faerûn, but opens up as a total mama bear for the rest of the companions, especially using her sewing skills to help repair armour and camp clothes. For Thalia, it was love at first flame when she met Karlach, amazed at seeing a fun tiefling on fire, and her loyalty to her girlfriend would follow her to the ends of Avernus if need be

Lizbet Moreland - Tiefling Monk

Way of the Open Hand, Lizbet’s inspired by Jane Austen novels, so she’s a huge romantic. With her other 4 sisters, Lizbet resides at the the Netherland Monastery with her parents, learning the way of the goddess Austeria, deity of relationships, marriage, and family. As per tradition, the women have to marry as they won’t be left with anything once her father passed, and Lizbet was arranged to marry Collinio, favourite apprentice to the High Priestess DeBourgh. On the wedding day, she had second thoughts and actually planned to leave when she was abducted by the Nautiloid.

On the journey, she becomes besotted at the entrance of a certain Blade of Frontiers, seeing his excitement and adventure, and pretty much swept off her feet by his charm and dance skills. Her monk training meant she’s calm and collected, looking to plan the strategies first, and is the best person to take advice from, as she’s wise and patient.

Ki’shravash - Githyanki Sorcerer

Storm Sorcery, Ki’sh grew up in Creche Yolik on the Astral Plane, and whilst she was trained in swords and melee to be a fierce warrior, her arcana prowess shone brighter, making her an outcast in the Creche. Whilst primed to be a future Kith’rak, she preferred to use spells, which made her the target of abuse and made to entertain the youths with her “magic tricks”, making her feel worthless and unable to ascend to Vlaakith’s favour.

As she continues her journey across Faerûn, she loses her faith in Vlaakith more and more, realising more to life on the Material Plane, especially with Gale and his research into the Crown of Karsus. Not only breaking out of her stern and cold life, finding love with the wizard in spite of herself, but also finding a possibility to overthrow Vlaakith with her kin sister, Lae’zel

I have more Tavs that are waiting in the wings, but I’m gonna try and finish more playthroughs before I make them. But hope you like - I’m showcasing their stories on my TikTok page. I’ll share the edits here as well, depending on the recent news.

Hope you like these beans!

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Circle of Life

⚔️ All Previous Parts Here ⚔️

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO (knots, slick, mpreg), Viking/god Col, fae/god Dom, plot heavy chapter, Big Vengeance™️- seriously guys this one is intense! Be safe! Mentions of sexual assault, mentions of miscarriage, threats, talks of poisoning, talks of murder, blood, graphic descriptions of death, a few uses of the word 'rape', the boys are coming to terms with all that's happened to them, Tavis is a badass, Dom is a vengeful incredible goddess, Col is a naughty puppy, a little family fluff, some cuddling, MF hate (obvi), a smidge of piss kink, hints of sex but no smut yet- soon! ☠️ Rating: explicit ☠️ shared ideas by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

The day brought with it the harsh light of reality- just because they had won the night before didn't mean their troubles were over. Dom found himself barely sleeping though he wasn't sure if he needed to any longer. He still enjoyed it when he could feel safe and warm. He passed the time silently watching their babes until one would wake and need to be fed. Even then he would only move enough to place the child against his chest. Ciarán was cuddled so close already that he had to lay the pups on top of him but even so deeply asleep he was a good big brother and he helped his mother cradle them, his little fingers petting through their wispy hair.

Kol'son couldn't sleep either but he was used to that. As a god he hadn't had to in years so he spent his night watching his family and hoping his wife could handle everything that had transpired. The queen turned goddess deserved far better than what he was put through but at least he didn't seem to panic. Or if he was anxious it was so deeply internalized the Viking didn't see it. He tried to stay out of his mate's mind, he knew if he saw any more of what happened with Áine he wouldn't be able to face it so instead he kept watch over his family and hoped for the best.

Eventually the sun rose high and their kin woke up and left the room to give them time alone. They appreciated it but they also knew they'd be expected up before too long. They were supposed to join their people and explain the new way of things. The chieftain needed to send a party of his clan to fetch the other selkies, he just hoped they would be as thankful as the others seemed to be. On top of all that they had to deal with their three prisoners, Kol just didn't know what they should do.

Dom sighed when his husband thought too loud, he couldn't hear it exactly, the man was obviously locking himself up tight but it was a low thrumming vibration that tickled his mind. "Shush." He grumbled, trying to ignore that they had anything to do that day. He never wanted to leave their room again.

"Don't tell me to shush. A little power goes straight to your head, hmm?" Kol purred back, nipping over a spot on Dom's shoulder he'd bitten scars into before. His love had never dressed the night before, too tired to worry about human convention- no one in the room was one anyway. His palm traced up the boy's bare thigh before it stopped to grip over his hip. He wanted to make sure he didn't touch him in any way he didn't welcome but the omega whimpered and pressed back. "Mmm, good morning to you too."

"'Ow long before you stop worrying fhis time?" The words were so soft Kol barely caught them but they broke his heart all the same. He couldn't help flashing back on the conversation he'd shared with Modig. He had to be gentle and careful with how he handled this. It was Dom's pain but because he loved him it was his too. It was hard for him to admit the truth because his alpha mind wanted so desperately to see it as a win, Dom had kept her free of his core but not his body. He knew it hurt the boy just as much, he'd just been so focused on saving their child.

"Shit you're pregnant again." The god huffed as if it just truly hit him and maybe it had. He'd been so focused on everything else that it was finally sinking in. "You weren't in heat were you?" He asked though… Maybe he had been. Gods he could still remember how hot the siren's pussy had felt wrapped around him. Oh. Huh. "Well that one snuck up on us."

Dom snorted, he couldn't help it. He normally tried not to because it felt so un-queenly but his mate was a king of understatements. He reached back, laying his hand over his husband's before he led it up his hip and down over his belly, letting the man give a quick greeting to their babe before he tried to make the alpha touch him where he needed it most. Only his god's caress would chase the feeling of Áine from his memory but Kol froze behind him and Dom's breath caught in his chest. "Oh." He sighed, his demons automatically whispering that his daidí no longer wanted him. He was ruined by the goddess. It made sense.

When the selkie's palm moved from his hand and he heard the boy sniffing the chieftain cursed himself. He hadn't meant to still, his thoughts were just tripping over themselves and he didn't want to trigger the wrong thing. Of course he had anyway. "Hey- fuck. Whatever you're thinking isn't- it's not. I- fuck. I didn't want to scare you. I didn't want to make you think about- that." He explained softly, keeping his body close, his fingers trailing over pale skin. "Mod told me… he said you were- and I didn't want to trigger you."

"You can't even say it cause I know you don't see it the bloody same. I don't even want ya to. Gods Kol'son I don't want to see it as tha' neither. I've spent years wondering if Bjørn raped me and now-" Dom's throat closed and he choked on a quiet sob. That was something he'd never done before- called a spade a spade. Kol must have felt the intensity of the moment too because he turned him carefully around and gathered him close, hugging his wife tight to his body. "She tried to- she… raped me? And I allowed it." His voice was thready, almost questioning and the alpha just held him through it all. "I let 'er because I 'ad to save our baby."

"You did. You did so good Dom. Fuck, you have no idea how proud I am of you. How much I love you. You didn't let her do shit. You survived. You survived and you saved our family. You saved everyone." The chieftain soothed, petting over his lover's back and kissing his hair. He knew it would be a long journey to even get close to healing but admitting what happened and what might have happened before was the first step. He'd never been able to say it. Maybe they could finally begin to work through everything.

Kol'son let his mate cry against his chest until the morning turned to noon and their son woke up. They got themselves under control enough to finally face the day and their people and he helped the new goddess dress and get their pups swaddled in baskets. The sun was bright above them when they finally left their room to the sound of soft applause and happy cheers. Word had spread through their village and for the first time it appeared their small clan was tripled. Looking out from their steps they could see their other village and even the forest fae were mingling all together. Their followers were eager to see their deity leaders and get a glimpse of the babes for the first time. Kol was sure many of them were as thirsty for blood as he was as well and he hoped he could give them what they needed. With that thought he wasn't at all surprised to see his throne in the middle of the village square and the prisoners chained in a cage near it.

He herded his family to the right place, getting his wife to his seat next to Kol's before he sat the baskets at his feet. Though when he stood up to speak to his people he realized it… wasn't his place. Dom's brows furrowed when his mate just picked up their son and took his spot but the alpha just nodded at him and he huffed. He wasn't used to dealing with their people in such large crowds. Did the bastard really expect them all to listen? 'You got this.' It wasn't just his lover's voice, he could hear Mod and Tavis as well. He felt both fae as well as Tom and Inga close behind their thrones. If they were being correct the other couple would be sitting with them, they all led the clans together but he knew they were making a statement. They weren't just king and queen now- or whatever the Vikings called it. They were far more than that.

"Bring 'em out!" He shouted, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair as if he would float away or run without it. He didn't wish to face them again but he would. He could handle it, he had his family with him. He watched as Tavis and Tavin went to the cage and pulled everyone free, Eric trying to help to prove he was theirs now. They forced his parents to the middle of the circle, not so close that Dom had to touch them but close enough. Gods, miles away would be close enough. He pushed himself to stand, letting Kol'son squeeze his hand tight one last time before he moved closer, nodding his head to the boys so they would make the pair kneel.

"You came 'ere wiv the mistaken idea tha' you could steal me pups. You came 'ere finking I was still the weak lil boy you tried to make me into. Wha' do you see when you look at me now?" He asked but before they could answer he did it for them. "A queen! A leader! Summat you never was! And now because of your attempt to steal from me? I'm ya goddess now too. 'Ow does it feel? You see, I've never actually failed so I don't know." He grinned playfully, possibly going a little mad. It was torture having them so close, he wanted to destroy them but the need for revenge hurt his heart. He could remember thinking one night how evil spread, no matter how hard he fought it he knew there was a black speck on his heart now and it was their fault. "Oh fuck you! You tried to ruin me and you can't! You can't!" True pain broke his voice and he caught his mother smirk a moment before his father tried to lunge for him.

They were tied and roughed up but they still thought him so weak that they believed they could hurt him. For the first time in his life he didn't cower from his father but the man was stopped by a wolf jumping between them. Well… two. The king fell back on his ass and made a broken noise that had Kol stepping closer to snap his fangs in the bastard's face. Ciarán just pressed himself against Dom's legs and tried to growl at the pair. His mother had the nerve to roll her eyes. "Kols? Heel. Weren't it me fing?" He teased, scratching behind his lover's ear and the wolf huffed, sitting back to let him take the lead again.

"I claim your 'ome for our clan. I will take the people you nearly killed because you led so fucking badly and I'll 'elp 'em flourish. Sirens and selkies alike will prosper under us. I won't ignore the needs of 'em like you and ya goddess did. I'll save 'em. As for you…" He trailed off, tilting his head. He felt the power still vibrating through his bones, the need to let some of it out was almost overwhelming. "You fink I was stolen by a viking clan but I want you to know, I left you. I ran from you as soon as I could and it was a while before I felt me mate from 'is ship. Tom can back me up. We left you. I followed Kol 'ome, he never stole me. You lost ya people because you was terrible rulers and worse fucking parents. I'll never be like you." He spat, stepping back.

"Tha's all to say, I know you fink I was ruined by 'im, tha' we savages. We ain't. Considering you wasn't going to give us last words and I don't bloody care to 'ear wha' you 'ave to say-" He took a deep breath, curling his toes in the grass under his feet and through the touch he let his magic flow. A trail of fresh greenery flowed out between them until it grew tall and taller around the pair, within a moment they were hidden from view in a tangle of grass and thorns. The couple screamed, the siren of the two was trying so hard to control anyone possible but Dom curled his hand in a fist and stopped their breath. He stood there a while, long enough he knew they would suffocate before he waved his hand and the plants surrounding them fell away to show-

"What the fuck is that?" Modig was the first to comment and he stepped closer, crouching down next to the mushrooms the new goddess had turned his parents into. Those wide eyes met Dom's and the halfling couldn't help but giggle. "Holy shit." Perhaps he'd made a joke of the pair but he thought they deserved it. Their shape was that of two cocks sure but it seemed fitting. They certainly were dicks.

"Stink'orns. Works don't you fink?" He asked as the laughing fae wrapped an arm around him. The man could tell he was feeling too much and he helped him gently back to his seat. He felt strong but shaken. He'd only changed them at the last moment because taking their lives was feeling far too good.

He knew something inside him might change when he struck them down. He knew killing anyone might alter something in his soul, no matter how much they deserved it. He knew it might be too much but he still had more to do and he worried it broke something inside him. Was he still the boy Kol'son fell in love with? Was he still the kind innocent thing? He couldn't help but- A sound hit his ears and they twitched as he looked up, searching out the noise. A shocked laugh escaped him when he realized the wet trickle was his husband hiking his leg and pissing directly on the mushrooms. "Oh gods-" Dom sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and partially hiding his eyes but of course he watched. He didn't want to admit it sent a thrill through him or made him just a little more wet between his thighs.

A moment later his sweet little pup trotted over on the other side and followed his father's lead and that truly made the crowd around them chuckle. There the boy was terrified about what the brutality did to his soul and yet Kol thought no different. Nothing was drastically changed for him. The wolf raised his head and gave a soft yip in his direction and Dom couldn't keep fretting with the sight in front of him. They weren't done yet though. They still had one prisoner to go.

Ronan woke up and whimpered while the siren was letting his boys finish their statement and he took a moment to scoop up the babe and get him settled against his chest. By the time the pup was feeding the wolves were finished and Megna was pulled to the same spot, forced to stand over the shrooms and in the middle of the very wet grass. He couldn't help but smirk at her annoyed face. "I ask for pity goddess! I was raised in hate and my father was ripped from me. I didn't know any better." The bitch tried to beg but Dom was so far past done with her shit.

"You murdered ya family. You tried to seduce me mate. You poisoned me family and caused me to miscarry 'ow many times? Yet you ask for pity? Where was yours? WHERE WAS YOURS?" The skies darkened above them, not so much that a storm rolled in but the goddess's rage threatened one. He supposed it was a day to admit the things they hadn't been able to. To face their pasts and finally try to heal. He'd thought they were finally growing up but hopefully not completely- obviously his mate never would.

"Why you? What the fuck is it about your- your precious fairy cunt that makes them all love you? I know I'm prettier, I deserve your place! There's nothing special about you!" She screeched, showing her true face and Dom was surprised when Inga stalked closer and slapped her hard enough she spit blood.

"That's not a very ladylike thing to say now is it?" She huffed before stepping back and Dom smiled. Gods he loved his family.

"You poor fing. Ya dad raised you finking you was special cause yeah, you're pretty. But pretty don't carry much weight if ya insides don't match. You deserve less 'an nuffin. You deserve torture. 'Eartbreak. You took from me. You killed the chieftain's heirs and tried to kill more. You slaughtered ya own family. Ain't nuffin worth saving in you. Ain't nuffin worth pity." He sighed, rocking his child slowly and patting his back. He stared down at him, watching his little face and he remembered seeing it cold and still. "Wiv'out Kol'son's power Ronan would be dead by ya 'and as well. You've tried to break us but you jus' made me stronger. You disgust me Megna but… I don't like killing. I don't like murder. I worry it makes me as dark as you and I want to be kind. I want to be a good example for me babes. Because of tha' I won't kill you." He vowed, looking up in time to watch her eyes fill with hope. He savored the moment, keeping his gaze on hers as he spoke again. "We promised revenge on you to our uncle. Tavis? Do as you wish."

The fae prince moved so fast she barely had time to scream no. Dom didn't look away but he hid Ro's face as the tortured and broken man ripped straight through her back and chest, her heart in his palm. Her life was gone in the blink of an eye and the relief was palpable as Tavis stepped back and let her body fall to the ground. He walked around her to kneel in front of Dom and he held the offering up. "I promised you this." The siren wasn't so sure about that but he trusted the man and he knew perhaps he'd said the words to Kol. "Goddess." He bowed and the boy tried not to squirm as the crowd dropped slowly at his example. The wolf trotted closer, raising his blonde head and howling and of course their son followed suit. If the noise woke the other babes Dom would have more vengeance to spread but… he had to admit he was touched.

"Love, I don't think he can take it right now. How about you help me cook it up? Heart and liver is great for growing babes." Inga took the organ from her mate and Dom's stomach turned.

"Fank you. Fank all of you. Shall we 'ave a celebration tonight?" He was desperate to get the attention off himself and of course that raised cheers. More than anything he needed a moment alone with his husband, he needed to be told everything would be alright. As he looked out at his people he thought it might just be but it always helped to hear it in that loving graveled voice. It helped the child side of him to be promised that, even if the adult side knew he had to help keep it true.

Author's Note/Tags: @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @manicpixiedreamb0y @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @cole-way-iero28 🖤

So that was intense but after everything I thought y'all deserved some good revenge. I tried to add enough levity that it wouldn't be too much and I think the next chapter will be a lot more fluff and happiness. I hope you enjoyed it 🖤☠️

[vikings-til-valhalla]

So I've talked here before about my D&D Dragonborn Oath of Vengeance Paladin, Hyrax, and his Devil boyfriend, Baeron, and how Hyrax once broke into Hell to save Baeron, freed a Devil from prison to be his guide, and disguised himself under the name "Nezerath". Succeeding in finding his lover, Hyrax and Baeron escaped to the mortal world, and continued adventuring.

In the end, I'd planned for Hyrax to, with his final dying breath during a dramatic battle, make a pact with Baeron saying, "I'll find you in the next life, my love." And with that, Hyrax would be cast into Hell and into the river Styx, where his memories would be erased, and he'd be reborn with just a vague feeling of longing for someone unknown. Someone gone. Someone he would never know. But that feeling would never leave.

And well, I had a dream that literally gave me the perfect story from beginning to end, just for Hyrax and Baeron.

So basically, when he went to Hell to find Baeron, he disguised himself under the name "Nezerath". So! Once Hyrax is plunged into Styx, he begins transforming. But... not into a Devil. No. Nothing even close. He is a white Dragonborn, and slowly, his body morphs. Wings sprout from his spine, he grows almost 10x his size, his legs crack and break as they shape themselves into the limbs of a four legged lizard, and his face contorts completely into that of a Dragon. A white Dragon. And he flies from the river, roars angrily, spewing a deadly cold breath, and hears a single voice:

"Nezerath, come to me. Serve your goddess faithfully, defending me until your final breath unleashed to freeze the Nine Hells over."

Nezerath flies toward the gigantic mountain where the servants of Tiamat live, and from there, goes to join them.

Tiamat wants revenge on the Devils, who trapped her there in Hell long ago. And now, she has found just the warrior to do this for her. A former Paladin of Vengeance, who'd always sought ruin upon the worlds of wrong, and whose fury and wrath and prowess knew absolutely no end.

So, with Nezerath and his kin, other Dragons of Hell who serve Tiamat, they all go by command of the Dragon goddess, and begin laying siege to Hell layer by layer. They murder Devils where they stand, eating them limb by limb sometimes, and causing absolute chaos and decimation.

Nezerath, he leads every attack on the Devils. He spearheads the assaults, freezing the world over literally with just his breath. The realm of fire and brimstone becomes a hellscape of frozen corpses and an endless ice age set in eternal night.

Once the first queen of the first layer is eaten by Nezerath, the other kings and queens go to attack.

One Devil, he hears the name of the one who murdered his queen. And immediately, he knows who this Dragon is. He was a Dragonborn Paladin, one who loved Baeron, and broke into Hell to rescue him. His name was disguised, hidden, never spoken in truth. And he'd set this knowledgeable Devil free from prison to be his guide to Baeron, under the name of Nezerath. This Devil, Karetath, goes immediately to the next level of Hell to warn the king there of what is happening.

The king knows of these attacks on the first layer, and now that he knows they're planning to come for all layers, he heeds the words of Karetath and says, "We need to find Baeron."

Baeron has been searching for Hyrax for ages, it seems. He heard Hyrax's promise to him, to find him again, but Baeron is so devoted to finding him first that he's abandoned all duties to the upper ranks to search for his former lover.

Nobody knows where Baeron is. No one has seen or heard from him in forever.

And all Baeron knows is, the Dragons of Tiamat are laying waste to his homeland, likely in the name of their goddess. But he's not sure. He hasn't spoken to anyone to ask what's going on.

Nezerath leads the Dragons across Styx, down to the second layer. There, everyone attacks in full force, and goes after the king.

The king, alongside Karetath, fights, and when they do, Nezerath appears before them both and tries taking them on. Both Devils realize it's a losing battle, and there is no hope. The king pushes Karetath aside and tells him to go, find Baeron, he is the only key to saving Hell. And Karetath does as he is ordered, flies off, and begins his search.

Nezerath freezes the king where he stands, as a statue before his throne, and the other Devils fall in battle against the Dragon army. They move on to the third layer next.

Karetath searches all layers calling out for Baeron, starting with the first. But never, there is no response. He flies across frozen wastelands and finds nothing. Almost nobody. The few survivors have huddled together in hiding from the Dragons who've begun to take over.

But Karetath, loyal as all Devils are, remains on his quest. He goes to the next several layers, with no response, and warns each queen or king of the incoming attacks by Nezerath. And Karetath goes on while all of Hell prepares for the war. Finally, he reaches the last layer of Hell, where he finds Lord Asmodeus, king of all Hell, speaking with Baeron.

Karetath flies over to them, and bows respectfully. He says his king sent him across the levels to warn others of the Dragons, and to find Baeron.

Baeron, confused, asks Karetath why him specifically.

And there, the Devil tells him, "Nezerath, he was the Dragonborn. Long ago. Who loved you. He broke into Hell and set me free to guide him to you, under the same name: Nezerath."

And Baeron is silent for a moment as, for the first time ever, he cries. "And I unleashed this attack..." he barely says.

Asmodeus asks Baeron what he means.

Baeron explains, before his lover died, he'd made a pact with him to be cast into Hell and into Styx, with the promise: he will find Baeron again in the next life. Baeron says this Dragon, he is Hyrax. Tiamat must have corrupted him, and transformed him into what he's become.

But, Baeron says, this is not the Hyrax he knows. Hyrax was a noble warrior, who, though he did awful things, he did them in the name of the greater good. Hyrax acted on the words of Meliki, defended his friends and his lover at all costs, including that of his own life. In the end, he even sacrificed his soul so that he could still be with the Devil he loved somehow, someway, someday.

Baeron knows now, he needs to go find Nezerath.

But Karetath warns him, it's no use. This Dragon has frozen and eaten most queens and kings of Hell by now, and turned the world into a frozen wasteland. None can stand up to Nezerath. Nobody is a match for him.

"But he promised he would find me again," says Baeron. "Whether he remembers or not, he's coming. For me. And I'm his only hope."

Baeron rushes off before anyone can stop him. He begins searching the layers alone, finding most every one frozen over. But, after a while of searching, he hears the unmistakable sound of Dragons roaring.

And Baeron braces himself.

An entire army of Devils comes, chasing after the Dragons, and surrounds them from below.

Sure enough, at the forefront of the onslaught, the white Dragon, Nezerath, is there, fighting, killing, eating, ripping apart Devils without mercy.

Baeron flies over and commands the army of Devils to stand down. This Dragon, Nezerath, he can be defeated. But not how anyone thinks.

Everyone is confused. They listen, desperate to survive, and back down.

And from the Dragons, Nezerath flies forth ahead of everyone. And he lands on the ground, walking toward none other than Baeron, who stands alone, arms and wings open wide.

Nezerath sneers. "You're foolish! Do you know how many of your kin I've slain to welcome forth my goddess in their paths?"

Baeron nods. "Many. And I must say, I'm impressed. You've grown. In power. I never fathomed what you'd become when you reached your strongest, but if I'd known this was it, I'd have never made the pact with you."

Nezerath scowls and roars. He presses his muzzle against Baeron, and chomps, as though trying to make the Devil flinch. But Baeron doesn't even move.

"I would NEVER make a pact with a lowly traitor like you!" Nezerath screams. "Tiamat is my master!! And it was you Devils who trapped her here!!"

"And it was I who sent you here, and her who took you in," Baeron tells him calmly. "Tiamat, she corrupted you. Long ago. The moment you landed in the river, and it wiped your mind, she saw a chance to use your strength for herself.

"You were loyal once, to another goddess. Meliki, of the Feywilds. You were her Paladin, and fought for her. But more importantly, to you, you'd fought for *me*."

Nezerath tires to attack Baeron, who evades, and then, he reaches up for Nezerath's face, and cups it with one hand.

"Hyrax. Sworn to vengeance. Holy beacon of the greater good, regardless of cost, I've searched for you throughout Hell. Come back to me, Hyrax. I know you're not a monster."

Nezerath unleashes his frozen breath, but Baeron matches it with a simple flame produced on site from his clawed hands. The ray of frost is nothing compared to this small burst of fire. It's clear, the Dragon is not using all his strength. In fact, he's far from it.

Baeron nods. "See? You can't even bring yourself to hurt me," he says. "And it's because you were good once. Still *are* good inside. Somewhere. Tiamat can corrupt your mind, but you have the heart of a Paladin. And the light inside can never burn out, no matter what deity tries to snuff it. So come, Hyrax. Return to me, and bring an end to this chaos. Seek revenge on the one who did this to you. I'll help you. I promise, my love. My Hyrax." Baeron goes in, and kisses the Dragon gently on the muzzle.

And there, Nezerath begins to glow. The glow overtakes him entirely, and morphs into a different shape. One familiar to Baeron and Karetath.

As the glow dissipates, there stands a tall, beefy Dragonborn Paladin, clad in thick plate armor, carrying a gigantic sword so large it acts as a pike. He falls to his knees crying, and in a soft, familiar voice, says, "Damnit, Baeron! How can anyone ever forgive me?! How can I forgive myself?!”

Baeron walks to Hyrax, and hugs him. "By doing the right thing," he says. "Just as you always do."

Hyrax nods. He stands up, smacking the tears away from his face, and looks. He sees the mountain, where Tiamat resides, and draws forth his weapon. "I'm afraid..."

"Everyone is," Baeron tells him, putting one arm around Hyrax. "But you're not alone. Together, we can kill Tiamat where she's bound, in her land, and end her once and for all. You're powerful, Hyrax. More than nearly any of us. And it's time to show the goddess of Dragons what it *means* to be a Dragon."

Hyrax nods. He turns his head, and kisses Baeron, and they both turn to the army of Devils.

Baeron speaks up. "All legions gather the remaining forces of Hell! Together, we will march upon Tiamat, and the Draconic Paladin, Hyrax, will lead the charge! We'll take her down where she stands, and set this land free of her wrath!!"

The Devils do as commanded. They flee past the Dragons, into the lower layers. And Baeron, he picks up Hyrax, and carries him down with everyone. They split off into groups who go to warn the remaining kings and queens, but Baeron takes Hyrax to the last layer. And there, they land before the biggest Devil of all, whose mere presence gives off an aura of damnation and sin, and Baeron bows to him.

Hyrax follows suit, and does the same.

"Lord Asmodeus," says Baeron.

Asmodeus crosses his arms and looks down upon the two. "You must be Hyrax," he says. "I hope you have a good idea of what to do. Tiamat neither takes betrayal, nor opposition."

Hyrax nods. "Your majesty, I swear, on my very dying breath, I will take her down. For Meliki. For Hell. For my honor. For... Baeron." He smiles a little, glancing toward his lover.

Baeron chuckles, and smiles back.

Asmodeus nods. "If it's your life on the line, we can't be losing much. Baeron, take him to the top. Defend him, but if you find yourself on the brink of death, leave him, and save yourself."

Baeron reaches a hand and grabs Hyrax's in his own. Looking up at Asmodeus, he says, "Your majesty, I follow your command until the end. But Hyrax gave his first life for mine, and for all of us Devils. So if I fall doing the same for him, it will be the greatest honor I could ever achieve. More honorable than living to serve you one more day." Baeron jumps and begins flying, carrying Hyrax again away from this layer, and through all the others, to the first.

Many Devils follow the couple, flying nearby them as all head for the top of Tiamat's mountain. Some break off, and take on the Dragons who try to stop them on the way. But Baeron and Hyrax continue forth.

Minutes later, they rise up only to meet five Dragon heads staring them both down with sheer rage.

"You served me well, Nezerath, and led your kin to victory," the heads say in unison. "Whether you're ready to die trying, or surrender in submission, your unholy actions will rebirth this realm into a haven for Dragonkind, and all will thank a wholely evil but loyal brother who served his goddess's wishes to the very end."

Baeron and Hyrax land on the ground, and Hyrax steps forth, weapon drawn and pointed for Tiamat. "You created Nezerath, and I watched him die in the name of the greater good. Now, only I remain. Hyrax Mythos. And it's time for you to face the wrath of Heaven and Hell!!”

Hyrax strikes Tiamat with all his might, and Baeron join in, unleashing every ounce of power he has. Both lovers fight as hard as they can, and, just as they believe themselves to land the killing blow, Tiamat screams through all five heads at once, and a hellish fire surrounds her. She glows, and stands, angry, the fire never waning, and she unleashes a breath weapon.

Hyrax dodges, and, tired, realizes the goddess is nowhere near done fighting. She's back to full. And stronger than ever before.

As Tiamat goes in to strike, a portal ripping open in the sky, someone flies up behind her and strikes her harshly. Tiamat stumbles, the portal closing and her strike missing as she screams.

Asmodeus has join in, and he is not taking this.

Baeron takes the opportunity to strike, but one head takes notice, and grapples him within her teeth. Another portal opens, and Hyrax screams as he watches his lover be thrown into another dimension, and the portal closes.

Asmodeus calls out. "Hyrax!! He'll find his way back!! Keep fighting for him as he will for you!!"

Hyrax, tears in his eyes, nods, and turns back to Tiamat. With a fury he never knew he had, he strikes and attacks with holy light guiding every hit. Alongside Asmodeus, he battles to the bitter end.

And finally, Hyrax jumps, drives his sword pike back, and charging it with the most powerful smite he can muster, he strikes, chopping off all five heads of the Dragon goddess at once, then lands and drives his weapon through her heart.

Tiamat falls, dead, limp, lifeless. Her body turns to shadow, and the shadows rise to the sky, and spreads out, dissipating entirely until it becomes nothing.

And a single portal opens, and out flings Baeron, more bloody and battered than before. He seems unconscious, and is falling. To his death.

Asmodeus flies forth and catches the Devil, then rushes him to Hyrax, and sets him down gently.

Baeron isn't moving, is barely breathing.

Hyrax begins to sob. "Baeron, my love..." he musters, voice breaking.

"You're a Paladin," says Asmodeus. "Can't you heal him?"

Hyrax trembles. "I... I don't know. I'm so spent. I'm not sure what's left that I can do..."

"He believed you were the key to saving everyone in Hell. All Devils. That means saving him, too."

Hyrax throws his arms around the limp Baeron, and hugs him tight. "Meliki, please. I have been used. Manipulated. Wronged. I've sought revenge to free the world from wrath, but I swore to do it for one man I love and all his people. They made it because of me... Please... Let me save him, too..."

A golden light of healing surrounds Hyrax, and stretches to encompass Baeron. It glows brighter, to the point everyone has to look away, and when they notice through their eyelids that the light has faded, they all open to look upon the Dragonborn and his Devil lover.

Baeron twitches, and opens his eyes. "Hyrax... Did... we do it?" he asks.

Hyrax sobs into him, and hugs him close. "Yes, my love!! All of us!! We did it!! Tiamat is dead!!"

And slowly, the frozen lands begin to melt, revealing the brimstone and lava, and flames burst to life throughout once more, across all the layers of the realm.

Asmodeus walks to Hyrax, and places a hand upon him.

Every Devil join in, placing one on him, and when he's covered, they place hands on each other, all leading back to the single Dragonborn who freed them all.

Baeron kisses Hyrax, and smiles. "I'm proud to know who you are. And I'm even more proud to know that you do everything to save everyone. Even if you lose yourself, the debt will be repaid, and those you stood for, will stand for you and guide you home again.”

As Hell comes back to life, the remaining Devils return to their rightful places, and new kings and queens are appointed to the levels which lost theirs.

And Hyrax and Baeron, they go on to marry. Asmodeus ordains the wedding, in (un)holy matrimony, and binds the two together in love.

Neither Hyrax nor Baeron serve just their leaders anymore, but rather, they serve each other as well. To the end. In life, death, and everything in between, they are together, defending one another, and they are free to go as far as they must to do this.

And in Hell, all throughout, a single name is hailed on the breaths of all as they rebuild.

Hyrax Mythos.

[starwrittenfates]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐫𝐚𝐥-- 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 (& 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟)

Codex Entry: "There are tales that Mythal, the Protector, Goddess of Motherhood and Justice, had a sister. Although it is unknown if they were related or Mythal just decided to call her sister, not much is known about Ethyral. She is said to have been a friend to spirits, inhabitants of the Fade, and might even be the reason for their existence. Hence her mantle, Goddess of Spirit.  Her other mantle as Goddess of Grief more than likely comes after the betrayal of Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, who killed her sister and then imprisoned the rest of our gods away. If you hear a woman weeping, it is said to be Ethyral, who is crying not only for her loss, but your own. She won’t rest until she gets vengeance against the Dread Wolf. Dalish clans view her with the same wariness as they do with Fen’Harel, seeking to protect themselves and their kin from her omen of grief and despair." — From The Tale of Fen'Harel's Triumph, as told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves

(if personal quest is done and her memories are returned in the Fade) “It seems the little bit of information the Dalish have on the Goddess Ethyral is almost right, but not entirely true either. She is the sister of Mythal, but her ties to Fen’Harel aren’t because of the supposed death of her sister by his hand. In fact, he wasn’t responsible for Mythal’s murder as previously believed. The ties between the Dread Wolf and Goddess of Spirit isn’t one born of vengeance and grief. They were friends and lovers, working together to help set their people free. However, even the best intentions can end up going wrong, causing consequences not perceived or intended. “ — From Codex Entry: Ethyral, Goddess of Spirit 

[mudaship39]

Character bio of the Afro Asian Native Fae Elvish, Giant Kin, and Goblinoid Spellcaster, Gunslinger, & Swordfighter Part 3:

Hero: 

Disciple of the Obscure (They have spent their time worshiping a deity who's not very well known. They act as an intermediary between the realm of their deity and the mortal world. They perform sacred rites and offer sacrifices in order to please their deity. They are helping a demigod ascend into a goddess. They are worshiping them in private. Their deity wants them to do heroic, virtuous, & lawful acts in their name. Though the demigoddess is true good alignment, not a neutral good alignment like her disciple who swore an oath of vengeance and oath of devotion to her. She speaks directly to them sometimes. Other times it's through messengers such as angels). 

Folk Hero. Legendary Lineage. Divine Seeker. Auspicious Birth. Divine Disciple. Fated. Fallen Hero. Dark Hero. Wronged Hero. Local Hero. Celebrity. Divine Champion. Herald of the Gods. Defyer of Fate. Wielder of the Old One (Titan Slayer a sentient Sword forged by giant kin, blessed by primordial beings, & heated and cooled by elemental dragons). 

Warrior of a Lost Age. From the Past. Elysium Knight. Ancient King/Queen. Eternal One. Sealed One. Ancient One (Blessed and given purpose by a benevolent being. Gained immortality for better or worse). Time Frozen (Frozen by a deity of time to protect them from calamity). Revenant. Lost Civilization (Person from legendary world filled with magic and technology where citizens used artifacts and relics many consider impossible). 

Isekai. Otherworlder.  Returned. Primogenitor (They were the first. They started a bloodline with a famous and rich history. An entire bloodline was born from their blood and an illustrious future was born from their actions. It has been many generations. They have lost track. They are recognized by their current family. They were a famous alchemist and renowned wizard who sired children. They, as an innovative inventor, engineer, & scientist, were the creator of some great process or invention that is renowned by many in the past and now is a commonplace sight. They were sealed away in a deep sleep only to have recently awoken. In the modern ages they are living alongside their progeny somehow despite being written out of history ages ago. The means of how they are currently here is sinister). Reborn Soul. 

Monstrous Presence. Survivor of the Cataclysm. An S rank calamity. An S rank dungeon. Millions of F rank to S rank adventurers were displaced to an S rank dungeon that was a giant supercontinent. With many environments of islands, jungles, forests, swamps, grasslands, deserts, mountains, arctic tundras, & volcanic mountains. The adventurers were displaced randomly throughout these environments. Terrains home to A to S rank beasts, creatures, & monsters. Environments home to B to S rank humanoid enemies. They were displaced there in the dungeon for a century. Time exists differently in the cataclysm. A century there was a decade in the real world. Of the millions displaced as the decade ended only several hundred thousand C rank to S rank adventurers survived. 

Beast, Monster, Creature Tamer: 

Dungeon Master of S ranked Monster Dungeon filled with slimes all the way to dragons for an S ranked Adventurers Guild for Training of B Class to S ranked guild members.

Minions: 

Slime folk minions with boss summons of humanoid slimes. Undead minions: skeleton soldiers, zombies, ghouls, mummies. Special undead summons: death knights, mummy lords, dullahan. Undead boss summon: a lich. Goblinoid minions: imps, goblins, & boss summons hobgoblins. Special summons, orc, high orc, troll, & high troll. Giant kin summons: ogre, oni, kijin, goliath, giants, & boss summon titans. Avian summons: tengu, kenku, owlin, and boss summons: Aarakocra. Werecreature minions and boss summon pureblood alpha werewolves. Serpent folk summons: gorgon, lamia, naga, yuan ti abominations, yuan ti half bloods, & boss summon yuan ti pureblood. Vampire summons and boss summon vampire lord. Dragon kin summons: kobolds, dragon newt, drake, wyvern, dragon born, half dragons, & boss summons dragons. 

Magic User Level: 

Circle 10 Magic User specializing in tier 0 to tier 10 magic. 10 magical cores or stars. 

Magic Skills:

Skilled in the schools of magic, magical subjects, & magical skills of. Especially absorption, alchemy, amulets, animancy, animation, animism, apparition, arithmancy, artificing, astrology, augmentation, banishment, bestowal, cartomancy, charms,  clairvoyance, conjuration, conversion, creation, crystals, curses, dark arts, demonology, disintegration, divination, elements, enchantment, entropy, evocation, familiar bonding, feng shui, geomancy, grimoires, healing, herbology, hexes, hoodoo, hypnosis, illusions, incantations, inscriptions, invocations, mediums, mysticism, necrology, negation, necromancy, nonverbal spellcasting, numerology, 

occultism, onmyodo, potions, precognition, psionics, psychometry, reanimation, rituals, runes, runology, scrying, sealing, sensing, shamanism, shapeshifting, sorcery, sourcing, summoning, spellcasting, spiritual projection, talismans, talismongering, tarot cards, technomancy, teleportation, transfiguration, transmogrification, transmutation, voodoo, wandless spellcasting, warding and wards, white arts, witchcraft, & wuxing. 

Skilled in the types of magic. Especially aether magic, astral magic, aura magic, barrier magic, battle magic, blessing magic, blood magic, combat magic, conceptual magic, cosmic magic, creation magic, dark magic, dark arts magic, death magic, demonic magic, destiny magic, destruction magic, defensive magic, dimension magic, divine magic, dragon magic, dream magic, druid magic, 

eldritch magic, elemental magic, emotional magic, energy magic, environmental magic, evolutionary magic, explosion magic, faith magic, fairy magic, forensic magic, forge magic, holy magic, home magic, hope magic, ink magic, life magic, light magic, love magic, luck magic, lunar magic, medical magic, memory magic, mirror magic, motion magic, momentum magic, music magic, mythic magic, nature magic, nether magic, neutral magic, object magic, order magic, 

paper magic, peace magic, planetary magic, plasma magic, poison magic, portal magic, possession magic, psionic magic, psychic magic, purification magic, quantum magic, raw magic, reality magic, reinforcement magic, ritual magic, rural magic, sacrificial magic, sealing magic, sentient magic, shadow magic, sigil magic, solar magic, solid magic, sound magic, space magic, space time magic, spirit magic, stellar magic, strength magic, symbol magic, time magic, techno magic, teleportation magic, transcendent magic, twilight magic, underground magic, urban magic, vector magic, void magic, war magic, warp magic, wild magic, & white arts magic. 

Magic User Rank: 

Imperial alchemist, master enchanter, journeyman animist, arch mage, grand magician, greater necromancer, lesser psionic, imperial arcanist, great channeler, supreme witch, greater summoner, master conjurer, grand sorcerer, great warlock, apprentice healer, lesser seer, great elementalist, greater illusionist, novice invoker, arch magus, supreme mystic, master transmuter, neophyte diviner, imperial mentalist, & master wizard. 

Titles: Strongest S Rank Adventurer. Undefeatable Arcane Swordsman. Most Skilled Spellcaster. Deadeye Esoteric Sharpshooter. 

Magic Circles: 

A magic circle is a circle of space marked out by practitioners of some branches of magic. They generally believe it will contain energy and form a sacred space. They believe it will also provide them a form of magical protection. Special powers that rely on the power of traced shapes and diagrams to function. 

Almost always a circular design. Comes with additional shapes of varying complexity inside the circle. Sometimes only required for a special ceremony. Sometimes necessary for anything and everything remotely magical.  It is a form of hermetic magic. 

Geometric magic usually sets itself up as a type of functional magic. It is frequently paired with ritual magic. Its instant runes when the magic seems to spawn the shapes rather than the other way around. Instant runes are generally involved anyway as the activation of the shape may cause writing to appear. Magic using wands, mage sticks, scepters, & broomsticks summon magic circles that are geometric magic. 

More complicated geometric magic designs are required for more complicated forms of magic. They are called arrays. The more detailed the array and the more stable the magic. The bigger the magic circle the more powerful the magic effect is. There are different geometric shapes depending on the class of magic the caster is using. There are several known variations. Some correspond to the major schools of magic and some to magical specialization. Combining geometric shapes leads to more complex forms of magic. The most powerful of spells use sacred geometry. His/her/their magic circles radiate or shine cardinal, sapphire, obsidian, opal, amethyst, emerald, gold, or silver.  

Status: Alive

Died several times as a S rank adventurer.   

They were revived and resurrected several times.  

Died when a monster stampede of a thunder of hundred chromatic evil dragons attacked the kingdom. Burned by a fire dragon and electrocuted by a lightning dragon. The dragons came when they were attracted by an ancient draconic relic hidden in the kingdom.

Was resurrected by a head clergy of a church in a large city. After members of their party performed a task for the priest to prove their fallen comrade's worth to them. Also had the paladin and cleric of the party take up oaths of the god the head priest and saintess served. 

Died when a devil lord killed them for revenge when he/she/they killed devil lords and ladies for vengeance. The devils turned a city into a human sacrifice and turned the citizens into imps, lesser demons, and arch demons. The demons used this to turn themselves into greater demons, demon nobles, & demon royalty. 

The guild adventuring party ventured into the underworld to take back the soul of their dead party member themselves. 

Died when fighting alongside a metallic dragon against a lich king and their zombie dragon. Lich King amassed an army of two million undead using the dead of a kingdom in a resurrection spell to attack the capital city. The undead army of mummies, vampires, ghosts, skeleton soldiers, banshees, ghasts, jiangshi, wraiths, revenants, zombies, & ghouls was commanded by undead commanders of death knights, pureblood vampire lords, necromancers, undead fighters, undead spellcasters, & mummy lords.

Divine intervention resurrection. He/she/they were resurrected by a different goddess than the one they served. The deity asks that the party promise to perform a favor in exchange for their friend's life. She asked that they become an avatar for her when they were revived to do deeds in her name as her champion.

Was petrified by a fire basilisk. Was un petrified. 

He/she/they when he/she/they died were chosen to become a god/goddess/deity as a human with fae elvish, giant kin, and goblinoid ancestry. He/she/they were chosen to become the fae elvish god goddess of magic, the giant kin god goddess of technology, and goblinoid god goddess of smithing including (god smithing weapons meant to kill gods and devils).

Occupation:   

Retired: 

Military Navy Fleet Admiral 

Magical Marine Corp General 

Magical Air Force General 

Magical Space Navy Captain 

Sky Pirate General 

Sea Pirate Fleet Admiral

Thief’s Guild Grandmaster 

Assassins Guild Grandmaster

Slayer. (Gov. Sanctioned Association of Slayers. Witch Hunter. Mage Hunter. Demon Hunter. Monster Hunter. Slayer of the Undead. Dragon Slayer.)

Elven Royal Advisor 

Icon

Active:

High King/High Queen

Paramount Chieftain/Warchief

High End Bar Owner

Five Star Restaurant Owner

Seelie Court Lord/Lady 

Merchant Guild Grandmaster 

Merchant Navy Fleet Admiral 

Knight Order High Elder

God Smith

Paladin Order Elder 

Magical School Superintendent/Chancellor

Pathfinder. Wayfinder. Horizon Walker. Outrider. Master Inquisitor. Trailblazer. 

Wand Carver. 

Magical Amulet and Talisman Carver.

Magical Witch’s Broomstick Carver. 

Magical University Dean 

High Elder of a Circle of Magi

High Priestess of a Witch Coven

Magic Tower Grandmaster 

Mercenary Company Commander 

Lord Commander of the City Guard

Lord Commander of the City Watch

Guild Grandmaster (Adventurer’s Guild leader).

Place of Residence: When in magical human federation land he/she/they live at the Norwood Manor on the Norwood Estate. While in Indigenous magical human land he/she/they live in a dome shaped oblong, rounded, undulatory, & sinuous home. It has peaks and spires. It is rib vaulted. It has catenary arches. It is made out of gemstones and magical metals. It is filled with magiteck for accessibility. 

Citizenship: Tirione Kingdom, Human Federation of Magical Human Kingdoms and Indigenous Magical Human Nations, Alliance or Coalition, Federation of Aehinara, Continent of Aehinara, Contingent Landmass of Eisio, Giant Planet of Kaishi

Affiliation: 

Human Federation of Magical Human Kingdoms and Indigenous Magical Human Nations. 

Alliance or Coalition. Confederacy of Indigenous Goblinoid and Giantkin Nations. 

Federation of Aehinara

Sword and Shield Knight Order

Paragon Paladin Order

Vanguard Guild Order and Adventuring Guild

Cerberus Mercenary Company

Magic Council

Arcane Order 

Education: 

High School graduate.

High School Diploma.

He/she/they were part of the magical go, magical shogi, & magical chess club. 

U-13 (or under 13), U-15 (or under 15) Magical Dueling first place champion, second place runner up, & third place finalist who took part in magical duels with a rapier, short sword and shield, & long sword.

 U-18 or under 18, U-21 or under 21, & 21 and over Magical Dueling first place champion, second place runner up, third place finalist who took part in magical duels with dual wielding short swords, one handed long sword and shield, and two handed great sword. 

U-13 or under 13, U-15 or under 15 Magical Archery first place champion, second place runner up, & third place finalist who took part in magical archery with a magical traditional bow and arrow, a magical crossbow, & a magical modern compound bow.

 U-18 (or under 18), U-21 (or under 21), & 21 and over Magical Sharpshooting first place champion, second place runner up, third place finalist who took part in magical gunslinging using a magical flintlock pistol, magical revolver revolver, magical semi automatic pistol, magical flintlock rifle, magical ten shot lever action repeating rifle, & magical carbine. 

U-13 (or under 13) and U-15 (or under 15) Magical Spellcasting first place champion, second place runner up, & third place finalist who took part in magical duels with a wand, magical baton, & grimoire.

U-18 (or under 18), U-21 (or under 21), & 21 and over Magical Spellcasting first place champion, second place runner up, third place finalist who took part in magical duels with a mage stick, broomstick, & scepter. 

He/she/they/they took drama and theater where they met the Night Elf Bard.

He/she/they were the treasurer, vice president, & later student body president. 

He/she/they took honors classes and AP classes. He/she/they in high school were on the principal’s honor roll and was valedictorian. 

College graduate.

Associates Degree in Arithmancy

Masters Degree in Language.

Dual Major in Goblinoid and Giantkin

Minor in Common and Elvish

Master’s Degree in Military History.

History Major in Elvish History 

With emphasis in Dark Elven History

Minor in Draenei History

PHD in Magical Philosophy. 

Doctorate in Demonology and Necrology. 

He/she/they taught as a professor at the magical four year university. 

This is the magical four year university that they were alumni of where they were an English major that received their associate’s degree in Common (English).

They graduated cum laude as someone who graduated in the top twenty percent of their class. 

They were a Common (English) major that received their bachelor’s degree of the arts with a dual major in Goblin, Troll, Giantish, and Orcish.

Club member of the Divination, Numerology, Astrology, & Astronomy Club

He/she/they were club president of the Indigenous magical students association. He/she/they were vice president of the magical human students association. 

At the magical four year university they were the star-player of the magical sports team. 

He/she/they taught magical philosophy as a magical philosopher at a magical Ivy League School. 

This is the magical Ivy League School that they were alumni of where they were a Philosophy and Ethics major that received their doctorate degree in magical philosophy. 

He/she/they graduated magna cum laude as someone who graduated in the top ten percent of their class. 

He/she/they were part of the men’s and women’s magical basketball, baseball, softball, ice hockey, field hockey, soccer, volleyball, track and field, & rugby magical collegiate sports teams.

He/she/they were part of the magical fencing club sport team as Lysander. This is where they met the High Elf Cleric and Paladin.

He/she/they were part of the magical kendo, sai, kobudo, spear, kalaripayattu, stick fighting, bo staff, silat, & nunchucks melee martial art club sport team. 

He/she/they were part of the magical mixed martial arts (imagine karate, capoeira, krav maga, savate, muay thai, jiu jitsu, kickboxing, hapkido, judo, aikido, taekwondo, etc.) club sport team. 

He/she/they were part of the magical monk class martial arts (imagine bak mei, wushu, changquan, hung gar, xingyiquan, shuai jiao, wing chun, san da, choy li fut, shaolin kung fu, & wuzuquan) martial arts club sport team.  

He/she/they were part of the archery crossbow, traditional composite bow, & modern compound bow kyudo club sport team as Luciana. This is where they met the Wood Elf Druid and Ranger. 

As an equestrian that was part of the equestrian sports club they were a rider of magical mounts of alicorns, unicorns, & pegasi. 

He/she/they were an instructor at a magical military academy as a gun witch, battle wizard, & war mage. 

He/she/they at the magical military academy fought other fighters in tourneys with magical two handed greatswords, spears, two handed warhammers, & two handed battle axes. 

At the magical military academy they were the star player of the magical mount riding team as a rider of a drake and wyvern. 

He/she/they were part of the magical military martial arts competitive sports clubs at the magical military academy.  

He/she/they graduated from the military academy as a second lieutenant.

He/she/they graduated summa cum laude as someone who graduated top one percent of their class. 

He/she/they graduated from the military academy with a master's degree in History with a major in Elvish military history with an emphasis on Dark Elf history. 

He/she/they graduated from the military academy with a minor in geography. 

He/she/they as a grand magister who is a multi class magician graduated from a magical academy with certificates in metaplanes studies, astral studies, conceptual magic, quantum magic, magic theory, and theoretical magic. 

Researcher and archiver at the magical library at the magical Ivy League university.

Studied college classes in Alchemy, Animal Care, Apparition, Arcane archaeology, Artificing, Arcane Architecture, Arcane Calligraphy, Astral Studies, Attunement, Botany, Centering, Charm Creation, Cleansing, Comparative Anatomy, Comparative Magical Studies, Counter Spellcasting, Curse Casting, Divination, Extra-dimensional Spaces, Fae Relations, Feng Shui, Forensic Magic, Geomancy, Historiography of Magic, Illusionology, Interdimensional law Interspecies Relations,  Invisible Writings Studies, Ley Line Studies, Life Gardening, Magical Creature Morphology, Magic Infusion, Magical law, Metaphysics, Metaplanar Studies, Monster Recognition, Mystical Gemology, Mythical Forging Techniques, Necrotic Civil Rights Studies, Occult Studies, Planar Geography, Potions, Political Sorcery, Practical Conjuration, Psychometry, Recent Runes, Somatics, Shamanistic Studies, Spellcasting Styles, Spell Composition, Talismongering, Theoretical Magic, Transmutive Chemistry, War Wizardry, Ward Creation

Base of Operations:

Castle inside a fortress as the High Elder of a Guardian Guild, a Knight Order and Paladin Order. Small buildings populate the grounds as dwellings for workers of the fortress. There are structures outside the bastion that offer a safe home to all those in need. A handful of waterfalls flow into various small rivers and provide the precious farm fields of farmers outside the castle with needed water. Lush fields of crops surround the castle walls and provide the inhabitants with food all year round. Various large houses are scattered outside the castle gates. Surprisingly the rich and middle class are comfortable with living outside the gates as well.  

The walls of the bastion have openings for artillery, archers, & anti-siege weaponry. Trees grow close to the castle gates and provide it with valuable wood for all sorts of purposes. Stylish grand windows are scattered here and there around the walls of the castle in seemingly perfect symmetrical patterns. Fifteen thin square towers are a decoration aspect of this elegant castle. The castle is defended by towering four colossal round outposts made out of granite that form a protective barrier all around the castle. The outposts of this citadel are surrounded by eight guard posts made of obsidian. The guard posts have been built on various tactical spots for an ideal defense. The guard posts of this castle are each surrounded by fifteen guard towers. The guard towers dominate the skyline of these guard posts and are connected by tall thick walls made of basalt and stone. The fortress itself is defended by ten forts. 

Huge statues of heroes of the past decorate the castle inside. They are memories of glories of the past. The castle is built into a mountain surrounded by a forest. The forest was defended by magical creatures. The guard posts, guard towers, forts, & outposts that protect the castle are built into plains, hills, valleys, and fields. Huge dragon bones litter the forests and small wyvern and drake carcasses litter the fields and hills outside the castle. This castle has clearly been around for at least a thousand years. But it doesn't seem like it will collapse any time soon. 

This castle has clearly stood the test of time. This castle has been improved and improved over the ages. Some parts of the castle are clearly newer than others. The inhabitants are determined to keep their castle as modern as possible. This castle shows signs of expansion as some parts are clearly built more recently than others. The inhabitants are already working on another part and hope to keep expanding. 

The fortress has a huge gate with a vast gate with huge metal doors connected to a draw bridge built over a moat filled with aquatic magical animals that protects the bastion. These strong defenses give a safe place to rest in this forest stronghold. It's the only easy way in for any other side would be futile. Six strong square towers form a protective barrier all around the fortress. They are connected by towering, thin walls made of obsidian. Wide windows are scattered here and there across the fortress walls in an asymmetric pattern along with symmetric holes for archers, anti-siege weapons, and artillery. A sizable gate with giant metal doors, a regular bridge and various artillery equipment guards the last stronghold along this shoreline that the fortress is built into. 

But it's not the only way in when you know the fortress’s secret passages. Remnants of broken siege engines litter the area outside the fortress. Bodies, broken swords and shields, & dead mounts litter the fields outside. As a painful reminder of a past war. This fortress is relatively new but so far it stood its ground with ease and it'll likely do so for ages to come.

Vanguard Guild Hall as the Guild Grandmaster of Vanguard an S rank Adventuring Guild and Guild Order.  The Vanguard Guild had an emblem of swords and rifles in front of a sigil of a shield. This guild is designed expressly for those who battle monsters, hunt treasure in dungeons, and go on quests. The guild’s members were trained at a university founded by the guild. This guild will be dynamic. They are always looking for new opportunities. It may be willing to back more risky ventures in return for a share of the profits. It may even sponsor adventuring parties. 

The guild hall of the guild included a reception desk, a meeting room, training room, meeting room for guild leaders and VIP like royalty and other important people, treasury, market, dorms for apprentices and trainees, trading hall with traders, trophy room, war room, an arena, a library, workbenches, a brothel, barracks, chemistry lab for alchemists, offices for guild staff, magical lab for scientists, workshop, amphitheater, common room, forge for blacksmiths and artificers, furnace, conference room for guild staff, emporium with merchants, auction room, a quest board, a bank, a notice board, hospital, pub for associates who aren’t members of the guild, mount stable, aviary, game room, archive room, mess hall, rooms with private wardrobes, storage room, warehouse, a tavern bar, kitchen, an armory, shrine for warlocks, chapel for clerics, & a dungeon for temporary prisoners. 

The guild had a grand hall. In the grand hall of the guild was a charter which is essentially a list of rules or values outlining the guild’s purpose and mission. The guild had a code of ethics. This addressed the overall behavior of a member, business practices, & product quality. In the reception hall of the guild was a list of requirements for admission and initiation. 

The guild’s standing and reputation in the community was excellent. The guild hall was a place where the guild showed off its accumulated power and wealth. The guild building had lodging and work areas for guild members and adventurers. It had a grand hall with ornate architecture and high ceilings. It was an obvious way for a powerful organization to quietly brag to all those who witnessed it. Tapestries hung on the walls in the color of the guild. The guild hall was three stories tall. The skylights at the top let light filter in the guild grand hall giving dramatic ambiance at any time of day. The guild had an underground room for secret meetings. 

The guild is led by a single president and overseen by a group of board members. An adventurers guild is an excellent spot for members to relax, share tales of their exploits, pick up rumors of missions within the city, hear gossip of loot in dungeons, and meet with prospective employers. Many people looking to hire adventurers come to an adventurers guild first. People can easily acquire adventuring hirelings or cohorts through the guild or hire freelance mercenaries through a mercenary company. The guild keeps track of its members' abilities. They often direct potential employers to the guild member or adventurer party that best fits their needs. 

Members must keep the guild apprised of their abilities and notify the guild when they are undertaking an adventure or quest. They are not required to accept any job offers the guild might point their way, but constant refusal of employment might eventually upset the guild grandmasters. Finally, members must be willing, if asked, to embark on a quest to rescue missing guild members. Finally, all members are expected to pay the guild 10% of the value of any treasure or goods they find on their adventures. In addition to the regular monthly dues. A guild is an organization formed to protect the interests and pursuits of people involved in the same general trade or activity. Within that broad definition a guild can appear in countless different forms. Such as large or small, weak or powerful, & public or secretive. Joining a guild is a simple enough prospect. 

One simply approaches it and petitions for membership. There you can find other information about the guild, such as its general membership requirements, operating procedures, and so on. A more covert association, such as a thieves or assassins guild, might require more investigation. Some secret societies are so well hidden that the party must seek out clues through investigation and adventuring. It is also possible that if someone has obtained fame that the relevant guild might approach them directly themselves through a representative. This is a relatively rare occurrence. Some guilds have additional requirements such as passing initiation rites or being a certain rank. Most guilds gain the bulk of their income through entry fees and membership dues. Most guilds provide a standard set of benefits available to all members. While they might vary slightly in specifics. They are generally the same from one guild to the next.  

A guild subsidizes the cost of goods, supplies, and services related to its chosen field. Thereby reducing the price to a member by 10 to 15%. A guild can provide monetary loans to members who have fallen on hard times. Should they fail to meet the deadline. Then they are suspended or on probation at the very least or at the most expelled from the guild. The most obvious drawback to guild membership is the monthly dues. While most adventurers should have little problem earning this much money, a slow month can cause problems. A member in good standing might be given one month's leeway, but if they fail to pay their dues including back-dues by then they are suspended and put on probation. A member in bad standing after failing to pay back dues several times is expelled. Additionally, many guilds have enemies or rivals among the other guilds of the city. 

Guild members have certain responsibilities which they must perform in order to maintain their standing. In some cases these are fairly minor. Such as keeping the guild apprised of certain topics. In others, this responsibility might involve donating a percentage of earnings as membership dues. Other times it is seeking guild permission to undertake certain actions. An individual who fails to pay their dues or perform their duties for more than two consecutive months is expelled from the guild. Similarly, a member who compromises the guild in some manner is also expelled. Expulsion results in the immediate loss of all benefits gained from the guild. 

Guilds have a lot of power and influence. Guild membership can be an attractive prospect. Though most small guilds appeal only to characters who stand to gain from belonging, rather than the adventuring party as a whole. Small and weak guilds often do little more than provide members with a place to belong and perhaps a bit of financial support). 

Influential and powerful guilds control entire economic markets and might even guide the course of their local government. The municipal government cannot afford to alienate the guild giving it substantial leverage to make demands. A guild that becomes this powerful often fixes prices, drafts legislation favorable to it, or dominates markets otherwise unrelated to its pursuits. 

They played an integral part in magical society. They play a big part in the economies of the cities, counties, & countries that they inhabit. Guilds can provide so much more than a healthy economy and a prosperous working class. Guilds have had an enormous impact on the economy of the territory it covered. These are the organizations that can offer experience and resources. They can be a benevolent ally, a training ground, or a client. A guild is a corporation, a union, & a cartel. This guild has a bureaucratic setup. The best way to hide a glyph of protection is by sheer scale. This is done through facets of a planned city such as walls, streets, lights, sewers, & buildings. 

This glyph of protection goes through the entire country. This glyph of protection protects the town, city, & kingdom that the Guild Order is inside of. The symbol passes unnoticed to all but only to a select few of powerful magic users who are grand magisters. It is later forgotten completely by the general public. It is discovered in blueprints and through birds eye view of airships, planes, or flying mounts. It is geometric magic that is hidden in plain sight that is a protection spell for the location. Built alongside the glyph of protection is a giant magic circle that channels energy for the magic users of the guild and adventuring guild. 

Hidden away beyond the mountains in a kingdom in the clouds held up by magic is his/her/their own personal magic tower as a grand magister of the circle of magi, magical society, and the magic council. A Circle of Magi consists primarily of spellcasters, but occasionally boasts non-casting members such as alchemists. Magicians, wizards, sorcerers, witches, necromancers, & warlocks make up most of the members. These magical councils offer comfortable and well-stocked libraries for research, and laboratories for experimentation. Perhaps more important is that they offer an environment where casters can exchange ideas and theories. Or simply a place where they can interact with those who actually understand them. 

The Circle of Magi is a magocracy and faction. A magocracy is a form of government where only those with ability in magic could wield power and influence. The magocracy of the Circle of Magi is a bureaucratic organization that touches nearly every corner of the Federation of Aehinara of the Alliance and the Legion. It is essentially a government in a government. Its citizens are the billions of users of magic in the Federation. 

Arcane councils are also valuable as political leverage in cities where governments or common folk love magic as magical humans, homo magi, & Indigenous magical humans make up a magical society. The circle of magi is a faction of an esoteric society of arcane spellcasters governed by a magical council. The magical council easily rivals the rulers. The Circle of Magi is the main ruling body of the entire magical world of Homo Magi, magical humans, & Indigenous magical humans. The Circle of Magi is the primary governing body of many of the kingdoms, empires, & nations of the Federation of Aehinara. 

The Circle of Magi magical council acts as a leading government. The magical council is governed by a magical parliament and magical congress of a house of representatives and senate. The magical parliament consists of a house of commons of a council of elders and a house of lords of a council of high elders. This magical government is led by an executive branch of a Grand Magister. 

These 11 high elders are elites that specialize within the schools of magic. Such as abjuration, alteration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, necromancy, transfiguration, and transmutation. The 11 high elders are indifferent to the thoughts and concerns of non magicals. The magical council's laws are made to suit the powerful and magical. They enforce a powerful monopoly on key aspects of magical society. The nobility of Aehinara often have magical or sorcerous bloodlines. Many of the past and present 11 of the magical council high elders have come from the bickering magical noble families. 

Many elders who are council members are looking for ways to increase their power, influence, control, & supremacy over the 11 high elder members of the Magical Council. The 11 high elders gained their positions of the magical council through various means. Some through the lineage of well known magical ancestors. Some through being an apprentice of an old master. Others were valedictorians of magical academies. Others were heroes in wars as magical users.

 The magical council became an arm of the rulers’ of the magical human kingdoms and leaders of the Indigenous magical human nations power base as a separate branch of the military. They provide intelligence, security, and act as a branch of the military as magical soldiers. The Circle of Magi is a governing body of the magical community. They are responsible for regulating and enforcing laws for the magical community. They are responsible for keeping the magical community safe from the non magical community. 

On the ground it has several bastions that protect it from invasion. The forts themselves are protected by outposts, guard posts, & guard towers. The magical tower has an unique design and layout tailored to his/her/their personality. It has an observatory for astronomy. It has a saloon and tavern to socialize. The magical tower has an alchemist laboratory where alchemists can brew potions, concoctions, potions, & elixirs. It has a workshop for artificers. The magic tower comes with a personal study for wizards. It has a witch cauldron for a witch coven to brew and concoct elixirs, potions, antidotes, brews, & concoctions. It has a large collection of magical lore. 

It has a bestiary full of mounted monster heads, especially a fire basilisk (with its eyes removed), a manticore, a cerberus, a chimera, & a hydra. It has an archive of magical artifacts. It has a large library of scrolls, manuscripts, parchments, tomes, & books. It has an arena for duels between magic users. It has a stable for mounts such as griffins, hippogriffs, hippocampi (sea unicorns), alicorns, unicorns, pegasi, wyverns, & drakes. It has an arena for duels between fighters. 

It has a training arena for apprentices. It has an astronomy tower with an observatory. It has apartments and homes for workers. It has a herbology garden with dozens of pots to grow small, medium, to even large magical plants. It has a maze with stone, rock, & metal golem guards. It has secret passages. It has a workshop for carving wands and talismans/amulets. 

It has a vivarium for caring for magical beasts, animals, & creatures such as shadow cats, evolved slimes, cerberus puppy, alicorn colt, micro griffon, kitsune nine tailed foxes, flying snakes, astral lynx, cub, guard drakes, shadow ravens, ghost pets, pseudo dragons, phoenixes, wyverns, displacer beast cub, thunderbirds, & hellhounds. 

It has a trophy room with the awards, deeds, & accolades they won as a swordfighter, gunslinger, & spellcaster and awards, certificates, & degrees they received at magical: elementary school, junior high, high school, community college, four year college, and military academy. 

It has a garden protected by a wood elemental, stone elemental, & nature elementals. It has a tailor famous for weaving clothes with dragon hide leather and giant spider silk. It has a crafting lab to craft, repair, customize, and upgrade equipment. It has an armory with weapons, armor, & shields. 

It has a treasure room with loot that he/she/they found from inside dungeons as an adventurer and quests as a guild member. It has a factory to create automatons. It has a viewing room magic mirror to scry on others. It has a room with a table with a crystal ball and tarot cards for cartomancy and divination for fortune telling. It has a summoning and banishing room for his/her/their patron as a warlock.

It is even bigger on the inside because of spatial magic. It is interconnected with other spires that connect to other magical towers. The magic tower is hidden away by illusions. The only way to reach it is by a portal network system. When an intruder attempts to access the portal when they aren’t supposed to it seals access from the portal network off. The magical tower is built on a magical leyline. 

It is built with a defense matrix. The magic tower is full of traps that deal with intruders. The magic tower has a room with magically bound guard monsters. The magic tower is defended against magic users with anti magic fields. The magical tower itself is protected by wards and charms and attacks intruders with hexes and curses. 

High King/High Queen of the Alliance and Coalition and leader of the Federation of Ahinara. The Alliance or Coalition represents everything good, lawful, tolerant, and progressive in the world. Self-proclaimed or otherwise. This is both an alliance between species and a coalition between nations. The ideals of the alliance are freedom, prosperity, and the security of its people. The alliance was organized by the heroic and righteous High King of the magical humans and Indigenous magical humans and the wise Dark Elven Empress of the Elven Empire. Who gets to define who’s good, lawful, and civilized in the world is an entirely different matter as history written by the victors and truth is defined by the powerful.

[dusmoros]

                        ◤ the 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 of  𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀  &  𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐀  ;  from ichor to blood  ◥

                          ❝  𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐲  ❞

AFTER THE FALL OF KRONOS,  the son of Uranus,  father of the new Gods,  all seemed to be well within the newly fashioned pantheon.  as Zeus and his kin took to healing what damage Rhea bore from her brother-husband’s cruelty,  and finding their own place in the wilderness of the world,  the other Titans,  and those great Primordials,  found themselves sealed within ancient Tartarus,  though some would be bound in servitude to Zeus and his kin.  others,  however,  among the great Primordial beings and Nyx’s many,  many children,  would not be bound by one or another,  keeping their stance on all things as rather neutral,  untouchable,  and so were feared by the gods. 

among these greater beings,  these Titans,  were the Erineys,  who resided within the Everdark,  the realm that was both made from and was Erebus,  Nyx’s consort.  though accounts of how many sisters made up the Erineys varied,  only three of the sisters would remain the most well known  :

MEGAERA,  JEALOUS RAGE,  GODDESS OF JEALOUSY AND ENVY,  PUNISHER OF MAN ALECTO,  ENDLESS ANGER,  GODDESS OF VIOLENT ANGER,  CASTIGATOR OF MORTAL CRIMES TISIPHONE,  VENGEFUL DESTRUCTION,  AVENGER OF MURDER,  PUNISHER OF MURDERS

these CTHONIC deites,  great and terrifying as they were,  had little interest in the goings on of the gods,  as though they were deities of vengeance,  their focus was bound to the mortals who walked the world,  unlike Nemesis,  who sought out vengeance on behalf of the gods.  they would only become aware of the on-goings of the new gods when young Aidoneos,  sometimes referred to as Plouton,  soon to be known as Hades,  made himself known to them,  after being tasked to not only house,  but also employ these daughters of Nyx.  and though his smooth talking fell on deaf ears,  the sisters were willing to follow his lead,  so long as he did not seek to abuse their might.  and so long as he did not seek to draw the ire of their primordial parents.

for a time,  there was harmony within the Underworld,  and between the remaining Titans and Hades.  they,  the sisters,  gave their loyalty to Hades willingly,  and remained nearly unbiased in all matters,  so long as those matters did not pertain to their siblings,  Thanatos and Hypnos,  or Moros and Nemisis.  (  the Fates,  their elder sisters,  were held at a distance,  only sought in matters which brought the busy Furies to a halt. )  it became known to the sisters how often their kin were disrespected by the children of Kronos,  and how often they were dragged into plots concerning Zeus’ infidelity,  or Hera’s bouts of jealousy.  it also became well known to the sisters how the gods often sought to make use of mortals in their destructive games.

they,  like GAIA before them,  found that the ill treatment of their kinsmen was akin to a slap in the face.  and though Hades had not dared treat them with anything beyond the respect they deserved,  they still found their blood boiled when they listened to tales of the OURANIC gods.  (  of course they were not the only ones,  as Hades found himself harboring a distressing dislike towards his heavenly kin.  )

during the infamous TROJAN WAR,  the furies would make the choice to rebel against the gods.  when Hypnos,  dragged once more,  into games between Hera and Zeus,  was threatened by the king of the heavens,  and Nyx was drawn forth from the depths to protect her son,  they had had enough.  perhaps it was a poor choice that Megaera and her sisters chose then to go against the Olympian gods,  but they could no longer keep their feelings at bay.  no matter the kindness and hospitality offered by Hades,  they could not merely hold their tongue or their fury any longer. 

     foolishness was to be punished,  and often such punishments bore only cruelty.

                           ❝  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭  ❞

to answer for her crimes against the Olympians, Megaera was stripped of her powers and forced to live as a mortal until her suffering was considered a fair trade for the damage she had dealt the gods.  no amount of pleading from Hades would change the ruling.  nor did Nyx demand her daughter receive another punishment,  for retribution must be payed in blood,  even among the gods.  (  although Mother Night did warn that she would not remain idle should the children of Kronos not hold to the promise of restoring Megaera to her place among her kin.  )

and so the Titan found her soul bound to the Thebian girl,  Megara, and made to live a mortal life of peril and poor choices,  dragged around by the very whims of the gods she felt so bitterly toward.

as Megara,  her mortal heart would,  time and time again,  lead her into terrible dealings with gods and monsters alike.  would eventually lead her to making a truly miserable mistake,  giving her mortal soul to a god for love of a dying man.  yet,  never did the ancient Titan stir within the mortal girl.  not in that moment where that fragile soul was marked by the Underworld,  not when the Fates and Hades alike gazed upon it’s worth and deemed it as acceptable.  (  how Hades missed the flicker of Fury’s brilliant light remained a mystery to both well past the end of the age of gods. )

pinned beneath Hades’ thumb,  Megara was tasked to do this or that as the god plotted against his Olympian brethren,  not because of what had happened to his Furies,  but for his own anger over the long held betrayal by Zeus all those eons ago when they were still young with no place to call their own.  a scheme that had long taken root prior to the birth of Zeus’ latest son,  and even long before the fall of the Furies.  it was,  of course,  by that which the Fates peered upon which led to the meeting between Hercules and Megara.  it was this (un)lucky meeting that would become the key to Hades’ plan,  and would also lead into the true fate of the Thebian girl.

throughout Hercules rise as a hero,  he became enamored with her,  and in time she with him.  a tragic romance in the making,  unfortunately short lived,  as during his trials into becoming a hero,  the revelation that Megara was a puppet of Hades’  would prove to be a test neither could truly overcome.  even when Hercules was willing to throw his life,  his godhood,  away for the witty and charming Megara,  but fate for mortals who fall in love with gods is always bound up in the blood soaked ties of tragedy.

though Hercules was welcome among his Olympian kin,  after the defeat of Hades,  and the end of his nearly Olympian labors,  he chose to return to the mortal plane,  wishing to remain at Megara’s side.  to be with the one he loved,  and to pursue a human life,  as limited as it would be.  and it was something Megara,  herself,  was willing to pursue.  to overcome her difficulties with the concept of love,  and to see if,  perhaps,  Wonder Boy was really the one for her.  since she was no longer bound to the Underworld,  surely she deserved her own happy ending.  and a happy ending she was given,  at least for a time.

they settled,  as they were want to do,  out in Thebes.  a cozy little home,  a lovely field to call their own.  they wed,  of course,  and Hercules was undoubtedly quick to get Megara with child.  again,  and again,  and again.  seven sons did she bear for him,  seven demigod children that might one day join him in Olympus when the time so arrived.  or,  at least,  one must have hoped,  only to have those hopes dashed upon the stone with only the shrill bloodcurdling scream of mother and child.  to say what caused the incident is to grasp at the air,  the answer solely unclear to all parties except Moros and the Fates.

some accident would occur that would tip the scale and ignite Hercules’s lingering disconnect between his mortal body and immortal essence,  sending him into a fit of mania that would claim Megara’s life and send her soul into the Underworld  ——   this time for good,  as no deal could be made any longer to return her to life.  ( later retellings would claim that jealous Hera had sent Iris and Lyssa,  the spirit of madness,  to drive Hercules mad,  and cause him to kill Megara and their children.  all retellings would embellish the hellish methods the demigod used to slaughter his kin. )

it was not Ker alone who came to collect Megara’s soul,  and how the winged god of violent death did weep over this particular soul,  but Thanatos as well,  a true rarity in such a situation.  together they brought Megara to the Underworld and set her soul to rest within the Styx.  it was there they would leave her,  not because they had wanted to,  but because there was nothing they could do beyond this.  Megara was dead,  and the gilded soul of Megaera,  weighty as it was,  could not be parted by their hands,  without it being seen as a slight against Zeus.  she would sink to the bottom of the Styx,  and remain,  lost for a time until,  perhaps,  she might split from the Styx and eventually find her way into the Lethe.

or so one might believe.

it was not long until Persephone,  the dread queen,  took note of the latest soul cast into the Styx,  for she was ever watchful,  awaiting when her Fury might return.  awaiting for the moment when she might fulfill her promise to Nyx to reunite the Furies,  and bring about balance to the Underworld.  she peered deep into the waters to catch the unfortunate soul.  and she reached,  as she had never done before,  to grasp not Megara’s soul,  but the ancient soul of such stuff as Primordial Night.  to pry forth the broken soul of Megaera and finding it solid,  for Titans,  like gods,  could not remain within the river as mere souls.

Hades,  who had waited at the edge of the shoreline,  only moved when he was certain Persephone required his help.  he waded through the churning waters to join the queen and easy the Fury’s newly formed body from Persephone’s arms.  though the weight of a Titan was great,  it was a familiar one to the Chthonic deity.  however,  whilst still within the river Styx,  both rulers of the Underworld bore witness to the mangled state of Megaera’s wings,  a reminder of her punishment for her treachery.  an ugly reminder that even the Titans could not defy the Ouranic gods and go unscathed.  the Fury would remain cradled in Hades’ arms as Persephone removed the mangled appendages,  and casts them into the depths of the Styx.  only then did they,  together,  bring Megaera back to the depths of the Underworld,  to Erebus,  where Night and Darkness and all the Erineys awaited the return of the eldest.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫  :  although this headcanon is heavily influenced by greek myth,  it is still colored by di’sney’s hercules and does not properly portray the relationship between Hades and his kin,  nor the supposed timeline of the myths mentioned,  or acts that take part during the trojan war.  it does,  however, hold some truth about the death of hercules’ sons and wife,  megara.

[screwyouhypocrisy]

Men flinched at the raw rage in her voice. They hung their heads in shame, surrounding a bloody altar, the body of a girl no older than 14 sprawled across the marble.

When you think of the Greek gods, you think of the perfectly sculpted bodies in the Louvre, or bearded men with ridiculous proportions. The goddess towered over them, and they had no words to describe her. It felt so immensely wrong that they ever thought they could fathom her. If you ask them today, they can’t tell you what she looked like. In her rage, she was terrifying in her beauty, devestatingly cosmic and ethereal.

She soared like an angel towards the limp body. The men who were too slow to part for her slumped over.

She cradled the girl in her arms, weeping. Her sorrow might do impossible things.

“This has gone too far.” She glared at all of them. “I desired a fraction of good harvest, not an innocent life. Take your twisted ethics and never sully me in the name of your so-called sacrifices.”

The god went to the Olympian council and demanded righteous justice and vengeance.

From Hades, the mortal girl was sent to Elysium. She would’ve already, for her life was full of hardships she used wit and strength to power through.

From Apollo, he used his infamous plague arrows and struck down every man the goddess asked. To their next-of-kin, he scorched their lands with his influence over the sun.

From Hera, god of family, she found why the girl was sacrificed. Her captors threatened to harm her younger brother, otherwise, she might’ve lived. Hera made sure her brother would forever find happiness. Today, you know him as Perseus, the happy hero.

A number of gods avenged the mortal. When her captors arrived in the underworld, they faced the wrath of Hades, Nemesis, Nyx, Ares, and more. Free to survive but doomed to live, each was cursed until the end of time.

The girl’s body was turned to a flower. Today, you know it was the poppy. It symbolizes a number of things:

The human cost of war, for that is what became of her demise.

Sorrow, for it was the goddess’ drive.

Peace, so that no one should suffer the same fate as her.

And resilience, the girl’s best quality.

So tonight, read a story of truth and justice instead of the easy ones. Plant a poppy seed and pray to the moon.

If you ask the poppies, they will say they love the moon.

And if you listen closely, you’ll hear a name.

Hold strong, and Artemis might spare you a smile.

“I asked for a piece of bread! I took my attention off of you people for a measly one hundred years and you escalated it to human sacrifice! How?!” Shouted the Goddess.

[morsrattus]

The Gods of Pent: The First Herd - West King Wind

West King Wind, the Wind Khan, Master of Thunder, the Storm Horse

The Cult of West King Wind (AIR AIR MOTION MASTERY)

West King Wind is one of the largest and most widespread cults in Pent, only somewhat smaller than that of Kargzant. The two gods are powerful rivals, and which is considered to be the true khan of the gods is the primary difference between the Kargzant Tribes and Four Winds Tribes of Pent. West King Wind is the greatest of the wind gods, who slew OdChigin and thus caused the grief-stricken death of Yu-Kargzant, but who also made peace and led the journey into the Underworld to rescue the fallen Great Khan. He is the change-bringer, the master of thunder, and the proof that enemies can become allies, if they make amends.

Mythos and History

West King Wind is the greatest of the Wind Brothers, the leader of the Four Winds, and the author of the most terrible act in Pentan history - the slaying of the innocent OdChigin. To understand his place in Pent requires understanding this act above all else.

One of the great deeds of Yu-Kargzant in the ancient days was the taming of the Destroyer Wind, who sought to crush all and subjugate it to the rule of force alone. The Destroyer Wind could not be slain, for there was no death, but Yu-Kargzant judged him by the Law of the World and tore him to pieces. The Destroyer Wind was West King Wind's brother, however, and the Winds did not know the Law. They did not understand the importance of the Law, of purity and justice, and only understood the bindings of kin and vengeance.

West King Wind gathered his kin and discussed what to do, and the Whirlwind Fool tricked him by giving him a new weapon, the sword Death. With this, he saw, he could earn perfect vengeance. West King Wind, not understanding the terrible nature of his weapon, sought out Yu-Kargzant's kin and found his youngest and most beloved son, OdChigin. Armed with the terrible weapon Death, West King Wind struck down OdChigin, and in doing so, he caused Yu-Kargzant to die of grief. Thus did West King Wind doom the world.

Yet West King Wind was also an honorable god, a god who led and ruled and aided others. As things began to get worse, he sought to unite the people under him. In this he became the rival of Kargzant, who sought the same. They competed in earning followers, slaying monsters and gathering the people who would become Pentan to their banners. Each matched the other in deeds, bringing much-needed aid and support to the ancestors of Pent. They vied for the hand of Oria, the most beautiful goddess of the earth. The cult of West King Wind says he earned it, but the cult of Kargzant makes the same claim. Certainly neither can be said to have been shamed in their pursuit.

When they could not best each other by their deeds, West King Wind and Kargzant went to the Mother of Horses, to claim the title of the fallen Yu-Kargzant, who had been her husband. Galana set forth the tests of the khan, and in pursuing them, West King Wind proved his honor and became worthy to lead, though still he could not best Kargzant. The two were perfectly matched, and both unable to match the great deeds of Yu-Kargzant. At last, Galana ruled that her son, Kargzant, was the victor - for now. And so she explained that it could not be birth or power that earned leadership, and a better leader could always challenge the tests again. Thus did West King Wind come to understand that to be a king is not a matter of kinship.

West King Wind and Kargzant met after this many times, as West King Wind doubted the Light Khan's power and judgement and sought many times to challenge him for leadership. At last, the god Issaries came to them and showed them a new way to understand each other, that they might lend each other strength even as they competed. He swore to be cousin to both gods, and West King Wind understood that to be ambitious is not to rebel, but to make all better by proving the best should lead.

At last, West King Wind saw that he had made the problems that beset the world when he slew OdChigin, and so he went to learn a better way. He went to the wisest of the First Herd, Hurfor, who taught him the secrets of the Law. And thus did West King Wind come to understand that justice and responsibility were of the same nature and saw what he must do. He saved Kargzant from the forces of Chaos and the betrayal of kin, but Kargzant rushed to the Underworld alone to try and save Yu-Kargzant.

West King Wind decided to save his rival and his victim alike. He gathered his allies - Hurfor and Issaries. He sought the daughter of Yu-Kargzant, Erissa, and asked her forgiveness and her help. To enter the Underworld, he gathered his wayward, foolish servant, the Whirlwind Fool, who knew Death, and the Ash Man, who had it within him. And then, with the help of the Ginna Jar, he led them on a great quest into the Underworld to make right what he had wronged.

After many trials, West King Wind and the Lightbringers reached Yu-Kargzant and knelt before him, apologizing for the deeds which allowed Chaos, Darkness and Cold to become strong: injustice, rebellion, and the murder of an innocent. Kargzant knelt and apologized for allowing the slaying of kin and the strife of family. Yu-Kargzant reclaimed rule over all things, and he appointed Kargzant the Star Khan and West King Wind the Wind Khan, demanding they make each other better, that the best might lead the First Herd while he would live in his camp in the Sky, judging the world.

Nature of the Cult

The Cult of West King Wind treats him as significantly less universal than most Orlanth cults do with Orlanth, for they acknowledge him as being beneath Yu-Kargzant in the hierarchy of divine authority. He is the greatest of the Winds, the commander of storms and air, and the bringer of change, often violent change. He is not, however, the supreme force of the world.

Within the Four Winds tribes of Pent, West King Wind is the ideal khan, the greatest leader, who shows men how to live and rule. In these clans, the cult takes precedence over that of Kargzant, whose cult in such tribes is primarily dedicated to enforcing justice, serving loyally and being a mighty guardian. In the Kargzant clans, the cult of West King Wind is lesser, serving as a warrior cult of ambition, self-improvement and wild violence with a lesser purity focus than Kargzant's. The two cults often see each other as rivals, as their gods are.

Depiction

West King Wind is always shown as a strong and powerful man with blue skin and red hair, though depending on the age he is shown as, he may or may not have a beard. He bears a klanth and a thunderbolt spear and wears much jewelry. His Mount aspect, Mastakos, appears as a blue horse with red Motion runes along his flank and curling ram horns.

Runes

West King Wind's power over the Air and Motion runes is incredibly strong, as broad as any god's, and he has equal claim to the Mastery Rune as Kargzant. :AIR: West King Wind is the source of the Air Rune and has extremely broad power over it. Among other abilities it can grant, initiates have been known to use it to predict weather, call rain, summon thunder and lightning, fly, enchant silver, command the winds, hear and speak at a distance, fight with swords, or withstand harsh weather. Initiates strong in the Air Rune are passionate, proud, and violent. :MOTION: West King Wind's Mount aspect, Mastakos, is the source of the Motion Rune, and so initiates find their power over that no less broad. They have been known to use it to, among other things, change shape, move objects, fight with speed and accuracy, ride horses, run at great speed, throw things impossibly far and accurately, or move to distant places instantly. Initiates strong in the Motion Rune are dynamic, adventurous, and reckless. :MASTERY: West King Wind is assocaited with the Mastery rune, but his command of it is weaker, especially in Kargzant tribes. Still, he is one of the two khans of the gods. Initiates have been known to use the Mastery Rune to, among other things, impress groups, command followers, sense the honor of others, invoke their tribal wyter, inspire loyalty, recite poetry, silence dissent, or summon tribemates. Initiates strong in the Mastery Rune are just, commanding, and arrogant.

The Dragon Power West King Wind fought and beheaded the Cosmic Dragon in a myth so ancient that few remember its details. It has granted him a unique power, sometimes called the Dragonbreaker and sometimes the Dragon Power, for it both defeats and embodies dragons. West King Wind has fought many dragons and commanded others, and a rare few heroes have discovered how to call on him for the Dragon Power. It was not until the rise of Sheng Seleris that the invocation of West King Wind's draconic power was formalized, however, and invoking it is done now through Sheng's cult of enlightenment.

Opposed Runes

West King Wind is opposed to the runes of Chaos, Moon and Stasis.

Particular Likes and Dislikes

West King Wind loves Oria, and may be married to her - this is a point of conflict between the cults of Kargzant, West King Wind and (to a degree) Lozarl. Certainly he honors Oria above all other gods and goddesses, with the possible exception of Yu-Kargzant. He is the leader of the Four Winds and their associated wind gods, and he bends knee only to Yu-Kargzant…and possibly to his rival Kargzant, when Kargzant proves the greater in competition. West King Wind is a rival of Kargzant, but not an enemy. They each strive to outdo the other at deeds of heroism and leadership, and this competition keeps the herd strong.

Of all enemies, West King Wind despises Chaos the most. He is the sworn enemy of the Devil and despises Chaos beyond all other things. He opposes the forces of Darkness, but he does not hate them as he does Chaos. He is enemy to his cousin, Valind, and the forces of Winter, but they are kin to him. No enemy can be as terrible to West King Wind as Chaos, and only his brother, the South Rage Wind, hates Chaos more. West King Wind particularly identifies the Red Goddess as his greatest enemy, the new face of Chaos in the world.

Cult Organization

Every tribe maintains its own independent cult of West King Wind, with its own traditions and leadership. These cults are not united, but can worship at each others' shrines, as long as political concerns allow such. It is not rare for tribes to fight for control of holy sites.

Priests

Priests of West King Wind are traditionally known as the Stormspeakers. They set up a holy shrine to West King Wind atop the highest point wherever their tribe settles in for a time, and often wear ornate bronze adornments or decorate themselves with red feathers and ram horns. Priesthood among the cult is chosen by election from within - all members of the cult within a tribe have the right to vote on if a member should be made a priest, and the priests then elect a high priest. The tribal khan also has a vote, even if they are not a member of the cult.

Center of Power and Holy Places

All hills are sacred places of West King Wind, as are plateaus and groves of oak trees, though trees in general are fairly rare in Pent. Standing stones carved with Storm or Motion runes mark other holy places, as are lightning-blasted places within the wasteland. The site of a lightning strike is holy to West King Wind. The yurts used to set up shrines and even temples have large openings in the center, for West King Wind can only be worshipped under the open sky.

There are few permanent temples or monasteries dedicated to West King Wind, and those which do exist are always at important holy sites, typically on plateaus or along the edges of Pent's mountains. They do not have roofs, ever. These places often only have a few priests and monks associated with them, relying on pilgrimage and support from the cults within the local tribes. Most tribes (except the Pure Horse tribes) will have a mobile shrine yurt for West King Wind, and in Four Winds tribes it will almost always be the largest and most important of the holy tents.

Initiates

All initiates must possess the Air Rune, though West King Wind can be approached by the runes of Motion and Mastery as well. Membership in the cult is exclusive to free men except through the Bloody Whirlwind subcult, which is the only route by which women may join and is forbidden to men. Slaves are not permitted to initiate in the cult unless they escape and become free or are gelded and freed.

Initiates must swear to honor their word and their debts in honor of West King Wind's own repayment of his crimes. Those who fail to do so are cursed by the god. Each is expected to own a weapon and take part in their tribe's defense, serving as warriors under the khan. An initiate who is captured and made a slave is forbidden from becoming gelded and must escape. Initiates are not rendered impure by contact with blood.

Holy Days

Every Windsday is holy to West King Wind, but the rituals are minor and only priests and devotees must perform them all day. The Windsday of Mobility Week in each season is a more important holy day, and traditionally it is used to perform divinations for the tribe and to organize the cult for greater work. In Four Winds tribes, these holy days are vital for organizing the tribe as it moves into the next season. Most tribes also celebrate more localized holy days based on individual tribal traditions, such as calling on West King Wind to protect against his brother, Valind, on the first time each year that snow has been on the ground for two days in a row.

Sacrifices

West King Wind is most commonly offered gifts of alcohol and meat. He favors strong alcohols, though these are relatively rare in Pent, and prefers gifts of cattle and sheep over other meats. Grains are also acceptable as sacrifices.

Subcults

There are many subcults of West King Wind, particularly among the Four Winds tribes. Many are highly localized, focused on ancestral heroes that served the god or emphasizing a single brother of West King Wind, and often have only a few members, possibly only in a single tribe. Others are more widespread, however, and can be found in many tribes, even outside the Four Winds tribes. There are also extensive subcults dedicated to the lesser Wind Brothers that serve West King Wind, far too many to detail.

Bloody Whirlwind (MOTION) Bloody Whirlwind is the Warrior Woman, the daughter of West King Wind who is most like him. She fights as equal to any man, wields the weapons of her father in battle, and is one of the most violent and warlike of the Wind Brothers that serve West King Wind. She loves nothing more than battle, and she fights with a fierce joy that even her father has trouble matching, losing herself in the glory of combat and the pursuit of vengeance. Only women are permitted to worship the Bloody Whirlwind, and her subcult is the route by which all women who worship West King Wind join his cult. These women are forbidden to have children and may not take part in rites of childbirth, and they must dye their hair red if it is not already. This subcult does not count against the limit of one subcult permitted to devotees. Worshippers may use their Motion Rune to fight with a feral, berserk joy.

Mastakos Horsewind (MOTION) Mastakos is the Mount Aspect of West King Wind, the horse upon which he rides. Mastakos embodies travel, motion and distance, and he is one of the fastest of the divine horses, ever running across the sky. His followers are not many, for most of West King Wind's worshippers focus on different aspects of their god than horsemanship, but they are deeply respected for their ability to always return home. Worshippers of Mastakos may use their Motion Rune to always find their tribe's camp and return to it from any distance or to ride without difficulty over any terrain. Mastakos provides the Trail West Feat.

Questing Wind (MOTION) The Questing Wind subcult represents West King Wind's time aiding the people who would become the Pentans. The Questing Wind is competitive and generous, seeking out adventure and battle wherever people need aid. Followers of the Questing Wind can use their Movement Rune to fight with swords or to fight at blinding speeds.

Tarhel and Heltar (AIR) Tarhel and Heltar, the Cloudherder and Woolmaker, are some of the few Water gods among the First Herd who are not river gods. They are friends of West King Wind, protected by him and saved by him from an ancient river dragon. They are more commonly worshipped on their own, but members of the West King Wind cult may worship them through him to gain power over the water-in-air that is theirs to command. These worshippers can use their Air Rune to call rain, both as a weapon to flood rivers or as a gift to fertilize crops.

Wind Khan (MASTERY) The Wind Khan subcult represents West King Wind as a leader. To be khan of a tribe, a follower of West King Wind must belong to this subcult, and only those with ambitions to be khan may join it. It does not count against the limit of one subcult for devotees. Members of the subcult may use their Mastery Rune to speak with their tribal wyter, lead their tribe, or common other followers of West King Wind.

Whirlwind Master (AIR) The Whirlwind Master is the aspect of West King Wind as a warrior, commanding the lesser winds into battle. He calls on the winds to serve him - the Killer Rain Gale in his right hand, the Blinding Shadow in his left, the Searing Bolt striking ahead and the Falling Wind guarding behind. Followers of Whirlwind Master can use their Air Rune to summon and command lesser Air gods to fight. Whirlwind Master provides access to the Terror Bolt Feat.

Devotees

Devotees must, as normal, renounce initiation to any other god and any magic not derived from West King Wind. They may only belong to a single subcult, with the exception of the Bloody Whirlwind and the Wind Khan.

Common West King Wind Feats

Diamond Thunder Weapon (AIR) The Diamond Thunder Weapon calls on West King Wind's legendary prowess with his signature weapon - the three-bladed Diamond Thunder Weapon. This weapon can only be used when West King Wind is in a state of purity, but once it is invoked, it is a terrifying power. Against unworthy foes or great armies, West King Wind invokes the blade Lightning Spear, which always strikes without deviation and burns anything it touches in a blinding flash. Against monsters and enemies of great power, West King Wind invokes the blade Gutburner, which always pierces through its target in a single throw and tears open their body, then continues fighting until West King Wind recalls it to his hand. Only against worthy foes who can be defeated no other way does West King Wind unleash the third blade, Immolator, which sears away the clouds and burns whatever it strikes until all that is left is pure white ash.

Braggart Wind (AIR) The Braggart Wind represents West King Wind's competitive nature and pride. He makes everything into a contest and a rivalry, both great deeds and small. He is driven to be the best, and he thinks he can do anything. Often he is right. In this aspect, he wields the Heavy Thunderbolt, which screams through the air, but moves faster than sound and smashes everything to bits. The Heavy Thunderbolt returns to the Braggart Wind's hand after it strikes, and its victims cannot hear it coming, but everyone else can. He is accompanied by hail, but this hail will not harm any that accept his challenges. While he is in a state of purity, he may keep the hail from damaging anything he chooses not to harm, but losing any challenge removes his state of purity.

Terror Bolt (AIR) The Terror Bolt honors the greatest victory of the Whirlwind Master, when he scattered the Winter Shadow's army of trolls and ice demons. It was a terrifying battle, yet over quickly by the power of the Whirlwind Master's magic. He called on the bright light of the Blinding Shadow, which blinded the trolls and drove many to flee in terror, while others froze up or tried to hide in magic of darkness. Then he broguht down the Searing Bolt, which burned away the snow that protected the ice demons and spread a fire across the grasses, burning the demons to nothing. His Killer Rain Gale blew the fires north, driving the remnants of the army away and leaving only warm ash behind them and overcoming any barriers of darkness and cold they tried to muster. Afterwards, he returned home and was honored by all, receiving a silver armband as a gift from his rival, Kargzant.

Thunderstorm Warrior (AIR) The Thunderstorm Warrior is the terrifying might of West King Wind in battle. When he takes up this mantle, he gathers about him the power of the winds, wielding the sword Death in his hand. All lesser foes flee before his might in terror, and he may call on the Great Sound while he is in a state of purity, crushing foes with his voice alone. His feet and those of his horse are carried aloft on stormgale winds, and a wind of fire surrounds him while he is in a state of purity. When he is struck a killing blow while in this state, the wind of fire burns it up, dying to save Thunderstorm Warrior but stripping him of his purity in that death. The Thunderstorm Warrior's spoken words are weapons that strike his foes like hurled stones, and the winds obey his will.

Trail West (MOTION) The speedy Mastakos can outrun any horse that lives. He once ran so fast that in eight hoofbeats he found himself in the distant west, on the Isle of Black Introspection. The first step brought him to Halikiv, where dwell the Men of Darkness. The second lept him to the top of the Mountain of Ice. The third took him to the Wonderwood. The fourth landed in the Dancing Vale. The fifth found him in Grelar Amali. The sixth passed through the Outpost of Logic. The seventh brought him to the far shore of the Western Ocean. The final step ended on the Black Isle, the point that is the farthest west of all things that exist. Each step is its own invocation of the feat, so a devotee may choose to safely stop at any of them, though getting back is its own challenge.

Lesser Air Gods

West King Wind is the Khan that rules over all of the gods of air, and there are many. They are flowing, everchanging beings that rule over the winds, the clouds and the storms. The most common among them are the Umbroli and Urothtrorol, however.

Umbroli, Air Elementals

The Umbroli are living winds, moving over their own will. When they are summoned, they pull themselves out of the surrounding winds of the area, manifesting as a mind controlling a wind. (This makes them impossible to see without magical senses, except by their effects on those around them.) The stronger the elemental, the stronger the wind it manifests as, so the greatest can be tornados or other powerful weather events. Umbroli are able to do anything a wind can do - blow cloaks over the eyes of foes, push back waves, blow out a fire, and so on. Some are able to form a semi-physical body that can be seen normally, which stills all winds in the area as these are used to create the body. When they manifest this way, it is in the shape of men, rams or horses with curling horns.

Urothtrorol, Storm Rams

The Urothtrorol are giant rams of great magical power, with shining horns and thick wool. They do not have wings, but can run on the wind as if it were solid ground. They can be ridden if summoned, and their bodies are fluffy and cloudlike, with bits streaming off behind them when they run. They are able to stomp their hooves even on air to produce a sound like thunder, loud enough to deafen people if they choose. They attract lightning during storms and are able to control it, but cannot create lightning outside of a storm.

Agents of Reprisal

Many lesser air gods serve West King Wind to punish those who act against his teachings.

Yavorlings

The Yavorlings are tiny lightning bolts, manifesting to jump from their victim's hand to any metal they touch. They manifest to scold worshippers for minor crimes, and their shock is weak at best. It is painful but fades quickly unless the yavorling continues its assault, which can cause nasty burns to the hand which will not heal naturally or by the magic of any air god until the worshipper repents and gives restitution for whatever minor divine command he has broken.

Harulings

The Harulings appear as swarms of biting gnats, causing itchy rashes, coughs and similar minor problems for worshippers who fail to attend the holy days required of them by West King Wind or fail to live up to the virtues he expects of an initiate. They are largely annoying but leave no lasting harm.

Hedkorings

The Hedkorings are long-legged creatures that can leap great distances. They manifest to chase those who steal from monasteries or permanent temples to any of the Lightbringer gods, or those who betray the cult of West King Wind and become apostate. They are also called the Flint Slingers, and are sometimes said to be the living stones hurled by West King Wind in anger. The number that go after someone depends on how powerful the offender is and the nature of their crime, but none of them directly attack their victim. Instead, they steal away any magic of West King Wind or any other air god the victim may possess.

[ruinakete]

hc + vengeance

WORD HEADCANONS & DRABBLE ・ accepting! ( word count challenge beneath the readmore; 500 goal; 507 reached! content warnings; mentions / implications of engage spoilers; mass murder; attempted suicide(s); suicidal thoughts; self-harm! )

to wrong zephia takes a grand amount of strength; a feat, really. this is not because she makes herself impeachable, as there's no doubt that the cracks in her image are visible. however, it's because most that attempt to wrong her are disposed of the moment she realizes their intent. instead, i think the main aggressor in her mind━━━the main person she once wanted vengeance against-was herself. not many wrongs have been dealt against her, and the one with the greatest impact was the one she committed by herself.

vengeance is not a sweet thing, to zephia. when her magic swelled from her dragonstone and tore down the walls of her home, setting both friend and kin aflame, her first reaction had been to condemn herself to a fate alike theirs. to destroy her dragonstone would be to kill the part of her that only brought grief. to destroy herself would be to kill the part of her that brought disappointment. thus, for centuries, she tried to take her life, failing each time, over and over again until sombron directed her rage towards the wrongful acts of mankind and those divine.

currently, zephia is not sure whether or not she seeks retribution from alear for burying her under her lava and stone. because, yes, though the divine dragon had killed her, had she not been the one to push the stone of fate rolling? should she not be the one punished for condemning griss to a death that belonged only to her?

for now, as she ponders what became of her past life and this second chance at breathing wholly, she will punish alear for ever thinking she could rid herself of a hound. for now, as she comes to the realization that her longed-for family does not need to come from her womb, she will punish griss for his reverence in her as a goddess and household head.

WAILING SHOOK THE WITHERED TREES OF THEIR SNOW, echoing through the mountains that once belonged to the heart of this dragon, heard above the crackling of flames and snapping of wood as it came to rest. and this mage dragon━━━poor, poor girl. useless, useless daughter━━━clawed at her skin as she trembled and shook violently, heaving in the smoke of her parents and tearing the evidence of failure from her body. o' divine one, she pleaded, she bemoaned, wake me from this night terror. pull me from the duvet of mama's bed and let her live to scold my laziness. remind me that i am not a ruination. but the last night terror she had was as a babe━━━centuries ago, cradled in her mother's arms. "divine..." she gasped, hiccupping and choking on each breath she took in, pitiful as she looked to her parents' guardians to forsake her, "divine... oh god... i didn't mean to! i... i didn't mean to kill them! i... oh divine, my.... i'm useless━━━i'm sorry, i'm so sorry!" another tremor shook her body, knocking her to her knees in the snow and ash, staining her carmine-dirty robes that her mother would not be able to wash. the thought of it━━━sangria eyes led astray to the limp hand some meters away━━━sent her into another fit of panic. the crux of her wails nearly silenced by the thrum of her heart, the glowing steadiness of... no. mage dragon rose her head, her gaze blurry with tears and face smudged with soot. the grief in the air was palpable, cut only by a frigid wind or two, and interrupted, constantly, by the thrum of a heart. it had been easy to find; stuck in the snow, tucked away as though it had no hand in what became of her. no. when she had lunged for the dragonstone, her body had not been ready for the abrupt action. she met snow, first, splayed across carmine and gray, but she scrambled despite the ache between her eyes━━━above her head, the weight of her horns was unbalanced, as though one had broken off a piece of itself just as she had. the moment her claws closed around the stone, she raised it in the air and brought it back down. the rocks beneath it shook, but the stone remained aglow. so, she slammed it down again and again and again and again until her hand met the rocks instead of the dragonstone that fell to her lap. skin split apart and bled, but it would not match the amount of her tribe's. thus, her adrenaline softened into fatigue, slowing her momentum and swaying her as she kneeled. it had not taken long for the mage dragon to slump over, shoulders trembling still as her arms curled to hug her stomach. useless, she was. stupid, foolish girl. utterly immovable despite the sorrow that racked through her body, curled over the dragonstone in her lap; the last of its kind, a reminder of what she could not be and would never become.