#he's actually grabbing a handle of a greatsword

[konohablossom]

Since i have nothing new to share, enjoy this wip of my Naruto oc, Jorogumo.

[waitingforwinterwinds]

A Clash of Kings - 22 CATELYN II (pages 303-320)

Catelyn arrives at Renly's party town in the south and suffers through a feast. Brienne joins the party! (pending)

-

Her fingers seemed more clumsy than usual as she fumbled her clothes. She supposed she ought to be grateful that she had any use of her hands at all. The dagger had been Valyrian steel, and Vaylrian steel bites deep and sharp. She only had to look at the scars to remember.

Valyrian Steel = 🥛🥛

A roar went up from the crowd as a helmetless red-bearded man with a griffin on his shield went down before a big knight in blue armor. His steel was a deep cobalt, even the blunt morningstar he wielded with such deadly effect, his mount barded in the quartered sun-and-moon heraldry of House Tarth.

Oh look, the original Briennesweep. XD BRIENNE!!! HIIIIIII!!!!!

- and to her left Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill, his greatsword Heartsbane propped up against the back of his seat.

... do I drink? they didn't say "Valyrian steel" but they mentioned Heartsbane which we know is a Valyrian steel blade... hmmm no, I'm fairly certain I've never taken a drink just for mentions of Ice, only the words Valyrian steel, so we'll keep going that way.

The rules are fast and loose... like Petyr Baelish's morals... oh wait, if they were like that then they wouldn't actually exist... The rules are fast and loose like Tyrion Lannister's morals. (yeah, that works a little better.)

The girl who shared a seat with him was also of Highgraden: his young queen, Margaery, daughter to Lord Mace Tyrell.

Hi Margaery.

Ser Loras rode a tall white stallion in silver mail, and fought with a long-handled axe. A crest of golden roses ran down the center of his helm.

Okay, we're going to do something new and exciting right now (art!) because I need to share with you how my brain mis-processed those sentences: "fought with a long-handled axe, a crest of golden roses ran down the center " > The axe has roses on it > "down the center of his helm." > Oh no wait the *helm* has roses on it > Loras's helmet has a mohawk made of roses.

This:

Is kind of what I was picturing when I was picturing the rose axe, don't ask why it's double headed, I just really like double headed axes in my fantasy genres, so my brain defaults. (I grabbed a reference picture of a golden rose and copy pasted it because I cannot draw roses for the life of me.)

The steel was polished to such a high sheen that she could see her reflection in the breastplate, gazing back at her as if from the bottom of a deep green pond. The face of a drowned woman, Catelyn thought. Can you drown in grief?

... Hey, did y'all know the twins sit on the Greenfork river? ha. ha. ahhhh, the subtly of "is it really foreshadowing or am I reading backwards into it?"

For the sweet, Lord Caswell's servants brought down trays of pastries from his castle kitchens, cream swans and spun-sugar unicorns, lemon cakes in the shape of roses, spiced honey biscuits and blackberry tarts, apple crisps and wheels of buttery cheese.

Lemon (cakes) = 🥛 It counts, I'm counting it... I'm also really peckish all of a sudden...

"-Why pity?" "Because it will not last," Catelyn answered, sadly. "Because they are the knights of summer, and winter is coming." "Lady Catelyn, you are wrong." Brienne regarded her with eyes as blue as her armor. "Winter will never come for the likes of us. Should we die in battle, they will surely sing of us, and it's always summer in the songs. In the songs all knights are gallant, all maids are beautiful, and the sun is always shining." Winter comes for all of us, Catelyn thought. For me, it came when Ned died. It will come for you too child, and sooner than you like. She did not have the heart to say it.

Amazing use of the Stark words. Poor Brienne, she thinks like Sansa did, they both deserve a world where the world is exactly like they think it is/should be!!! Also, "sooner than you like"... *calculates the number of pages left and compares them to the scenes from the show* yeahhh, about that. (this Cat chapter or next? hmmmm)

"Let us be blunt, my lady. Stannis would make an appalling king. Nor is he like to become one. Men respect Stannis, even fear him, but precious few have ever loved him."

Good thing "well loved" isn't a requirement for being king. you know what really should be though? The ability to DO THE DAMNED JOB!!! Alas, corrupt politics has turned it into a popularity contest with a high entry fee.

"These are no Lannisters, my liege. it's Lord Stannis at your gates. King Stannis, he calls himself now."

Oh look, time for the little boys to stop playing at war and face it for realsies. (I'm sorry, he just. Renly, bothers me, as a person. not just because he abandoned Ned to die because Ned wouldn't support Renly's usurpation, not just because he's a rude piece of work about anyone he's not kriffing (so everyone but Loras) or schmoozing (which is all the lords and ladies and most bestest knight Brienne). It's the inflated sense of self-entitlement, I think.)

Poor Catelyn, she's so soul weary in this chapter, and it's not going to get better. She's doing her best but the world just, urgh.

[grimm-rider]

Entry 23

I found myself being dragged into a chamber, then tossed to the ground before a figure atop a dais.

The figured looked down at me warily, sizing me up. I cursed aloud and wondered what had happened. His stance loosened—he didn’t see me as a threat.

And why should he?

Because standing before me was the Grimm Rider.

A mirror of myself, from the void in my memories.

He asked me what that was, referring to Talsune. He wanted to know why it was alive. I bristled a bit, and informed him that I’d made some allies. He chuckled at this, as if the idea of relying on others was amusing.

Then a second figure appeared. She looked like Edeya. At least her face did. The rest of her was nothing like the woman I knew. She was dressed in shades of red, and slung an arm casually around the Grimm Rider’s shoulders as she cooed playfully that he had at least one ally. At her side was an ashy ghost that must have been her version of Illivor.

This fiery Edeya clapped her hands together and suggested we see who the better man was—have the Grimm Rider and I both select a champion to fight. I agreed without hesitation. I’d taken Cesseer one-on-one, I could take whatever this echo of my past could throw at me.

So I thought.

…I wasn’t ready for just how vindictive I can be.

I said I would represent myself. Because I knew I could handle myself, and unlike Roscoe or Talsune I had the ability to heal myself at my fingertips if things got rough.

The Grimm Rider smirked, like he’d known I was going to do that. He called forward his champion. The doors next to him—hidden behind an illusory wall—opened. And a winter wolf skeletal champion lumbered into the arena.

I was seeing red. One of them laughed, saying it was always more fun to break the spirit first. I don’t know who it came from—I don’t care. I told them they’d made a grave mistake.

They wouldn’t break me. They’d only guaranteed their deaths.

I didn’t care about a fair one-on-one fight anymore. I was going to kill them. Talsune felt my rage and stepped into the arena. Roscoe followed suit.

The false Edeya saw where this was going, and threw a fireball at us—followed by a quickened fireball.

She is definitely not our Edeya.

I followed up on her fiery assault with Horrid Wilting. The necrotic energy took hold in the Grimm Rider, but didn’t seem to touch the false Edeya. I became wary, thinking she might be an undead in disguise.

So instead of aiming for her, I used a quickened Boneshaker to grab the Grimm Rider and pull him from his dais, to the ground beside his twisted creation.

With a better look at the wolf, I could now tell it wasn’t actually Greta. The Rider had carved the deceased winter wolf’s bones to shape the body to be more similar to hers—but I knew her. I knew her shape and how her body moved. This was a twisted facsimile of Greta, nothing more.

That wouldn’t make me kill them less for trying to use her against me.

In response to my anger, Talsune struck out against the reanimated winter wolf, nearly scattering its bones with the blows from his greatsword. One final shot from Rascoe was all it took to sever the necrotic energy holding it together. My Baykok’s other bullets were aimed at the Grimm Rider.

The Rider rose to his feet, clearly incensed at the embarrassment from me tossing him to the ground. Tough shit.

The Grimm Rider tried to ensnare my mind with a spell, but I resisted. The gears in my head turned, quickly. He’d tried to cast Dominate Person. That wasn’t a spell I knew. That wasn’t a spell I could know.

A false Grimm Rider for a false Edeya.

I surmised that he was a type of vampire-like undead that could take on the form of a living creature.

At least they used something better than Nosferatu this time.

The Fiery Edeya cast Fire Storm, engulfing me and Roscoe in flames. Talsune was getting the easy end of this fight with his fire immunity.

Still, it would be over in another moment.

I cast Destruction on my mirror opposite, presenting Norgorber’s symbol for the undead to see in its final moments. The dark flames ripped through it��the form of the Grimm Rider was ripped away, revealing a female undead vampire for just a moment, before it too was wiped from the face of Golarian by the spell, and all that was left were charred ashes on the ground.

I pocketed the unholy symbol, as Talsune flew for the false Edeya. His blade met flesh—or what passed for flesh. She didn’t bleed like a normal creature—something silver oozed from her wounds instead. This was followed by the reverberating bang of Roscoe’s gun, and more holes were ripped in her ragged body.

The fiery Edeya saw which way the winds were blowing, and turned to flee through the door hidden behind an illusion. Talsune’s blade met her flesh one last time as she fled, but it didn’t down her—and she disappeared down the hall. We ran after her, but she darted ahead, until she vanished into a mirror at the end of the hallway.

The mirror had a spell on it, which would teleport us to one specific location. There was only one way to go, and that was forward. So we pressed onward.

And yet as we teleported, I got ripped away from Talsune and Roscoe, and found myself somewhere else. Not where the mirror led. Not at all.

I found myself in a manor in Abaddon.

Awaiting me there was Queen Elvana, of all people.

She said she couldn’t harm me in this place—it was a neutral ground set up so we could talk. She offered me a seat at a table set beneath a large stained glass window. With nothing else to do here but hear her out, I accepted.

She made me an offer: return to working with her, have the hit on my family called off, get special privileges to be as much of a sassy motherfucker as I please without being executed for it, and don’t inevitably die fighting her. She seemed to think the things her mother had offered—namely the wishes—were ridiculous lies she’d filled our heads with. And maybe they are. But why would I trust a woman who already sent me to the chopping block once? And why would she trust me—someone who already spied on her and betrayed her for her mother once before?

I asked her that, and she basically said it was too late to matter. She couldn’t be stopped. This was basically all just a formality.

You know, I don’t doubt that she believes that. But I think she’s full of it. If that were the case, she wouldn’t be trying to remove me from the playing field. No…I think, even if just subconsciously, she can feel the winds shifting. We’re going to dethrone her. No matter how much she thinks she is Irrisen. She’s wrong. A queen can be replaced. She’s just one person, at the end of the day.

I didn’t give my answer immediately, though. Instead, I told her I had one more question. She said it had better be only one more because she was very busy.

Blah blah blah, you were the one who brought me here, don’t start whining about it now.

I asked her why she’d had me kidnapped as a child. She told me that it was an experiment, to see what prolonged exposure to the darkness at the heart of Irrisen did to a person. And judging by my magic, it seems it was a success. Although she admitted my magic could have manifest from other sources—being raised by Master Keisuke or being her mother’s Rider, for instance.

I mulled that over. I already had my answer, but a little suspense never hurt anyone.

I told Queen Elvana that I didn’t give my loyalty easily. And it already belonged to the others.

Like hell they’re ever going to know I said that.

Elvana wasn’t surprised by my response—I’d be a bit disappointed in her if she was. She left, telling me to look around and get used to the scenery because this is where I was going to go when I died.

After she left I just looked at the stained glass and reminded myself that I wasn’t going to die. Ever.

When I turned around, I was in a new room—back in Edeya’s parents’ manor. Back in Whitethrone, on the material plane. I was on Talsune’s back as if we’d never been separated—although when I’d been in Abaddon I hadn’t been able to hear or feel Talsune. It was…empty. I guess I’ve gotten used to him being there, to passively hearing or feeling him mentally. Despite how uncomfortable it was at first.

In front of us was a door with a Symbol of Persuasion etched into it. Without any way to dispel it, I had to just trust in Talsune and I having strong enough wills to resist the magic. So I pushed the door open, and we both did push through the ripple of magic that washed over us.

In the next room was a legion of Mirror Men, waiting for us in front of an enormous mirror, within which Mirror Edeya’s face reflected.

Our Edeya was there too, but before I could call out to her, she was drawn backwards and vanished as a Maze spell was cast on her. The mirrors around the room began to reflect Edeya running through an endless reflective maze. I surmised that this spell was keyed to the giant mirror—if we destroyed it, we’d free Edeya.

Apparently Nestian had the same idea. I hadn’t seen our bear friend enter the room, but I did see him charge across the room to try to smash the mirror—only for his axe to bounce off some sort of barrier.

We needed all the help we could get, and now that we were back on the material plane I pulled out the Stone of Farspeech and contacted Aenland. He was under the impression that we needed to meet at the theatre where Greta and I had our first date, because he’d given Mirror Edeya some false information about where the rebels’ hideout was over Sending. I told him no, he needed to get over here to the manor and help our asses with this fight right now.

Mirror Edeya’s face vanished from the large mirror and appeared in one of the Mirror Men. She could possess them at will. I realized that was dangerous. We needed to get rid of this horde of Mirror Men immediately.

So I took a page out of the Fiery Edeya’s book.

I called down a Fire Storm, incinerating all of the Mirror Men and a false Edeya who looked to be a fully-fledged Winter Witch. The only false Edeyas left were the badly injured Fiery Edeya, and Mirror Edeya, who had reappeared in the giant mirror.

I heard voices shouting from a nearby room. It sounded like they were trying to work out something technical. Then one of the barriers went down. It clicked in my mind—those were Edeyas’ parents. I called to Nestian that it seemed Edeyas’ parents were helping us. I decided I would go try to assist them, as I’d had some talent with magical devices.

As I came to this conclusion, the glass from the shattered Mirror Men rose up from the ground and became a deadly whirlwind of shards, slicing at anyone unprotected. The glass remained hovering in the air, poised to become that storm of death again at any moment.

And six of the Mirror Men were revitalized by a silvery liquid dripping from the giant mirror. I gave Roscoe the order to take them down—and Aenland showed up just in time to help take out the remaining stragglers. At the same time Nestian turned away from the shielded mirror and took down Fiery Edeya.

I healed myself, Talsune, and Roscoe, then Talsune flew me over to the door so I could look into helping with the barrier. While the glass shards outside began whirling again, I helped Edeya’s parents to lower the mirror’s final defenses.

Then I turned just in time to see Nesian launch himself at the mirror, bringing his axe down right in the center of Mirror Edeya’s head. The glass shattered. And behind it was a void of darkness yawning open—another portal. It would take us to Edeya. And to her mirror double.

It was time to finish this.

We all stepped into the swirling darkness, and found ourselves a moment later in a small mirrored space. Our Edeya was there, waiting for us. Specters circled the room, and in the center was a huge ghastly construct made of the malleable material that makes the outer planes—quintessence. Faces pushed out of its form—different faces of Edeya. And beside this twisted being was a version of Illivor made entirely of shattered glass pieced together in a mockery of the human form.

If this Edeya weren’t Queen Elvana’s loyal minion, it would almost be sad what a twisted creature she really was. Almost. But she hurt our Edeya. She tormented us and scried on us and dominated our Edeya’s mind and then threw us into that fucking mirror trap—and I still don’t know where Greta is. I don’t have room in my heart for pity for the likes of her.

But this form of hers was a golem—not something I could work with. The specters, on the other hand, were. So I told Aenland I had a plan to deal with the swarm specters. I was going to throw everything at them.

One of the specters tried to cast Harm on Talsune—unaware of my Oracle’s Vessel cast on him, so the ghost healed my partner instead. Mirror Edeya said something to the specter in response, but her words were unintelligible—everything she said was backwards.

I think I figured out the gist of what she was saying pretty quickly, though, when she stepped forward and cast Heal on me.

That fucking hurt.

And she wasn’t done. I felt as though my life was hanging by a thread as she reached out with a quickened cure spell—and then it fizzled against the light of Vigliv’s protection.

Not today.

Edeya—our Edeya—saw my injuries and quickly came to my aid, hitting me with a Harm spell to offset the damage done by the Heal spell.

I missed Edeya.

Shattered Illivor was unarmed, so she couldn’t interrupt as I cast my own spell. While I was casting, Nevra flew into the middle of the fray, and Aenland began shooting arrows into each of the specters. Then Nevra breathed lightning at the golem.

I activated the magic in the coat I’d taken from Rasputin, then cast through the pocket watch to power up the spell even further. An Ectoplasmic Fire Storm empowered by the pocket watch.

I unleashed the storm of fire—a hurricane of flames burst through the room, with Aenland and Nevra in the eye of the storm. The flames coalesced where the Shattered Mirror Illivor had been—but when the flames cleared there was nothing left—barely even a melted puddle to show she’d been there at all.

Unfortunately, the specters still remained. Their wounds were slowly stitching themselves back together, and they were hardy motherfuckers besides. As Nestian felled Mirror Edeya but the specters remained, I realized it would take electricity to stop the specters’ regeneration.

Nestian hoisted up two Javelins of Lightning he’d gotten forever ago, while I dug out a Scroll of Chain Lightning from the Bag of Holding. I struck four of the six specters with the chain lightning. Two were immediately scattered, while the other two were left vulnerable to Aenland’s arrows a moment later. Nestian threw one Javelin of Lightning at the nearest specter, destroying it, then handed the last to Roscoe. Roscoe threw the Javelin as directed, and the lightning struck true, destroying the last specter.

We all quickly retreated back to the actual manor on the material plane.

There we found Edeya’s parents unconscious on the ground. Edeya checked them, and found internal bleeding. She chuckled darkly as she healed them, saying it was bittersweet. Apparently this was a reaction to them getting the shards of their soul back that they’d given Mirror Edeya to make her. They should be fine.

We prepared to leave, planning to make our way to the rebel base. Which according to Aenland is in Logrivich’s clock tower now. That is hilarious, and I almost wish I had Levi with me just to put Logrivich’s animated skeleton back at the top for a bit, but he’s back in the Dancing Hut and I’m not wasting time going back there just to get Levi.

Apparently Aenland fought a bigger white dragon at the wall of Whitethrone before we all met up and I wish I’d gotten a chance to possibly make that into something, but oh well.

Right now I’m mostly concerned about where Greta and Cesseer are. We didn’t find either of them after leaving our personal mirror hells. Fiery Edeya said Greta was ‘long gone’, whatever that was supposed to mean. I’m going to try Sending her just as soon as we’re on the road on the way to the rebel base.

I hope she’s okay.

[nikkisticki]

If you just want to experience the game and get into it, every game has intended ways to let players find their own way to solve a problem, you just have to find them. One of the really smart things about the games is that they are designed to have an inate variable difficulty, and while sometimes they are unintentional there's always options to give yourself an easy start

Just for the fun of it:

Dark Souls 1

- The Drake Sword can be acquired by shooting off the tail of the red wyrm stop the bridge, which can be done slowly on the understeps (this is probably the most well known example of "overpowered" weapons, Replace with Silver Knight Straight Sword when available or go with the Baldur Knight Side Sword)

- If you wanna go strength, the Claymore and Zweihander are easily acquired at early game and can be easily used to end game. I'd recommend claymore as it teaches a lot of solid fundamentals (which you may want if you wanna do more runs), but the Zwei will demolish everything if you learn to block and dodge when needed. If you get your hands on a Black Knight Sword / Great sword, they are arguably even better for you.

- Pyromancy has no scaling besides upgrade so you can just drop some points into attunement and also have fully powered fireballs to yeet at them, make sure to stop by the sad spider lady downstairs from Queelag and get the best fucking spell in the game

- If you meet your weapons requirements, level your HP and Endurance to a comfortable position before statting for anything else, you don't want to get caught in Anor Londo with 800 Hp

I could list some other builds but this is the ideal gronk play style that teaches the basics, functionally replicatable in every game and highly enjoyable.

Dark souls 2

- You're looking to do the same if you want to make this fun and easy, as the Greatsword in this game can steamroll most of the game...except this will make you an exceedingly open target to the later bosses who won't let you get away with it, and you'll be an open target for death in Pvp.

I once parried a Greatsword user 6 times in a row, doing the finger waggle emote every time until I got sick of it and threw a Forbidden Sun into their face

My actual recommendation is to pick up a spellcasting melee hybrid, as Spellblades excel in Ds2 and give you a way to handle foes from a comfortable distance early on. All three spell lists are great but complicated, however Sorcery has arguably the best build in the game.

Immediately grab some decent blasty spells by heading down to the horrible wharf and finding the old man, he's on the dock next to the big boat. Once you exhaust his dialogue and beat the boss, he moves back to town. Then, get yourself a decent core of stats and grab yourself a Longsword, get that baby Enchanted by heading to Bastille and find Crazy Grandla, You're now set up to reasonably play for the rest of the game, grab Soul Spear from the horrible bandit forest and remember you can use bonfire asectics to respawn it, giving you multiple copies and allowing you to have upwards of 20 big blasts to throw at things.

Grab the Drangleic shield from after the Pursuer fight, then use an ascetic at Majula and buy some gear from the armor seller, sit down and come back and he'll sell more. Repeat once more and he'll sell Alva's set, which is arguably the best medium armor in the game for a very long time.

You're now free to murder everything and eventually grab some really fun int weapons like the Blue Flame, the single best sword in the game as it's heavy attack is replaced by spellcasting, which you can dual wield and dual enchant with buffs, it's so hype

Dark Souls 3

You're looking at the game where armor matters, but only if you want hyper armor. Armor does provide decent resistances, but it's the lowest of the series and you're going to take a lot of damage if you get hit, so don't get hit (thanks Miyazaki)

You're probably ready to pick your own build at this point but if you've no immediate ideas, Strength build. Strength has most of the best weapons in the game flat out, while Dex has half a dozen.

As well, spellcasters are in a situation where they aren't quite so able to fuck about from a distance and require a lot of work to do well (and tbh 90% of spellcasters I've seen online share one braincell and it's very smooth), but you can easily invest in faith for some decent support spells. Don't worry about the attack spells, they require particular effort to use and most of the good ones are trapped behind extremely difficult, high level bosses.

If you can get any of the Lothric Knight gear, all of it is amazing, especially the kite shield.

My main playstyle in these games is using spells in conjunction with melee fundamentals, so if there's anything anyone wants in particular to run, you can ask me, I am very happy to blather on. I've played nearly every build I can think of in every game, to the extent that I made FOUR DIFFERENT BLUE FLAME BUILDS, I have a problem

I'd like to hear about dark souls if you mean it :)

Oh, the Ds3 thing?

Alright, so Ds1 is a video game...and it's meant to be Miyazaki's big reflection on Demon Souls and a lot of ideas that have been bouncing around his head, and the endings are meant to be viewed by themselves. Miyazaki was adamantly against any sequel and had no intention of continuing this world.

If you're not aware, two endings await you at the end of DS1, either you light yourself on fire and let your immense soul burn to revitalize reality, or you abandon it and permit the age of Light to fade, instead ruling it as the Dark Lord.

Now, a basic interpretation would be that these are on a Good/Evil axis, which is blatantly untrue. Both endings are intentionally left vague and what happens afterwards effectively up to you, the player.

Perhaps lighting yourself on fire starts a new thousand year era of peace, but to what end, another great hollowing that forces another to repeat this process, buying smaller and smaller periods of "good" eras as less and less souls can be found to burn?

Or, perhaps the second lighting led to others seeking pilgrimage to continue the tradition, burning themselves to keep the world running and never permitting it to occur again.

Similarly, the dark ending could be that you've allowed endless darkness to consume the decaying bones of reality...or perhaps you wisely realized that going Hollow was a flaw of Humanity (the thing in your chest), and sought to correct it, to create a new age or dark where humans can prosper freely and not under the rule of tyrant gods.

it's entirely left to you, and meant to represent that you've overcome this lands Gods to do...something. Something that Miyazaki specifically wanted to be left to you, not given concrete meaning by a game he didn't make-

Now, post launch, Miyazaki moves immediately onto Bloodborne, but the current head of the company (who would be later assassinated by Miyazaki and replaced by him) wanted MORE MONEY, and wanted Miyazaki to make a sequel, a sequel he firmly believed shouldn't ever exist.

So they got some other guy to make it! Halfway through development of Ds2, that guy was replaced by one of Miyazaki's best (Yui Tanimura) after the whole Assassination thing (it's true look it up by searching "Ds2 assassin r34"), who then tried to put what he could together...but at the end of the day, Ds2's base existence shits on Ds1.

Ds2 makes the very silly argument that the Age of Light and the Age of Dark are just two ways that reality always goes, that this process has been repeated over and over and over with the four Gods eternally reincarnated into new bodies or otherwise represented (One of the last Witches of Izalith possesses the Lost Sinner, The Rotten is LITERALLY JUST A BABY NITO, The Duke himself is Seath being reincarnated and the stupid fucking Balrog is Gywn, somehow?) and no matter what you do, you're fucked and realities fucked.

I'm going to ignore talking about ds2 anymore as I'd have to stop and explain some of the actually good ideas (like the shards of Manus), but just by existing DS2 says that Ds1's ending is meaningless and pointless.

Now, Ds3 comes around and is clearly Miyazaki's last straw, clearly a game he felt compelled to make to clean up Dark Souls image, and put it to rest forever. These endless cycles have led to countless Kings and Lords who've all been long forgotten, reality itself has fallen apart and now regions are just in the wrong place (The entrance to Irithyll is actually blocked off by the mountain that the Carthus Catacombs exist within, which is not where it's suppose to be if you look at the road leading into town), with every ending a variation of "Reality is FUCKING DONE FOR", and the true ending post the dlc confirms both in canon and out that the next world should be one entirely different then this (check out the painters dialogue for that).

However, what's particularly fascinating is that entities that should be dead simply aren't, like Ornstein who has been killed twice in two games and yet still somehow was with the Nameless King. Some people take to the belief that Ds1's Ornstein was a golem and Ds2's Ornstein is the real deal, but in actuality I believe it's meant to be part of the timeline thing.

I'd try to find the interview, but as Miyazaki has given HUNDREDS OF THEM, I'll never find it without spending an hour looking, but as I mentioned previously Miyazaki has tried to explain before that the timeline of the games isn't directly linear, and how is pretty simple to figure out.

In Ds1's own canon, once you complete the game this becomes its own seperate timeline, meaning these endless cycles don't occur as the Chosen Undead does whatever you the player wanted, making DS2/Ds3 noncanon to your playthrough, while DS2 is effectively turned into a sort of "What if...?" game, with it's ending having the same rule.

This can be gathered if you at look at Wolnir (also known as Big Skeleton OG) and his crown of many lords he took from them which the Bearer of the Curse should instead possess, but additional points can be made such as that Tarkus knockoff invader carrying one of the rings of the Ivory Knights, who he supposedly killed the last of (which is impossible as the last of them joined you in putting down the Ivory King). There's some more evidence to be gathered, but the key one is that none of the games ever mention other games protagonists, nobody ever says "HEY DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE BEARER OF THE CURSE? DUDE HAS A LASER SWORD!", because they never came to be.

Ds3 then sits as the final gasp of the series, entirely demanding that another game in this timeline can never occur (although Miyazaki could change his mind, he has mentioned the idea of a prequel to Ds1 once or twice) and effectively just exists to make Ds2 less ruinous to Ds1.

There's a good chunk more, but essentially

Ds1 ----> Ds1 Ending

Ds2 -----> Ds2 Ending

Ds3 -----> Ds3 Ending

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #121: Lancelot (Saber)

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re building the one Frenchman who could do no wrong (until he did) Lancelot du Lac! This time instead of his snarly dog version we’re making his Saber class form, so buckle in for a huge smite and a whole lot of other stuff to fill time between getting smites.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here! 

Next up: How sad. Alexa, play Despacito.

Race and Background

Fun fact: Lancelot was raised by the Lady of the Lake, the same woman who would one day give Artoria her sword. Sorry, I think I said that wrong, I meant to say he was raised by a lady in a lake. Like, under the water. To celebrate this weird ass origin story, we’re making Lancelot a Triton, because I honestly don’t think I’ll ever get another excuse to make one of those. Tritons get +1 to Strength, Constitution, and Charisma, as well as the option to breathe air and water thanks to being Amphibious. You’re also an Emissary of the Sea and Guardian of the Depths, allowing you to talk to any water-breathing beasts, and giving you resistance to cold damage to boot. You can also Control Air and Water, which right now means you can cast Fog Cloud once per day using charisma.

Finally, as a knight of the round table you’re a Knight of the Order, giving you proficiency with Persuasion and Religion. 

Ability Scores:

As fitting of someone who turns lancers into fine smears on the ground, your Strength is going to be your highest score. After that is Charisma. Half the time you’re in some sort of situation where nobody can tell who you are, but they still like you anyway. I’d think a high charisma would make you less forgettable, but I’m not English. After that is Constitution- Dolorous Guard requires you to fight twenty knights, and they cheat on top of that! You’d better be ready for the long haul. Your Dexterity isn’t terrible, you’ll mostly be in plate mail anyway. Your Intelligence is a bit low, but your plans generally get summed up as “hit things”, so it’s not much of a loss. Finally, dump Wisdom. If you could resist charm effects you wouldn’t be in this mess. 

Class Levels

1. Paladin 1: I hope this isn’t too surprising. First level paladins get proficiency in Wisdom and Charisma saves, as well as two paladin skills. Athletics will help you lug three shields around, and Intimidation will make that look even remotely scary to anyone else.

You also get a Divine Sense that will help you detect celestials, fiends, or undead near you for a turn. If you’re hunting down the holy grail, it’s probably guarded by celestials or undead, so this might give you an edge on your son. You can use this a number of times per long rest equal to 1 + your charisma modifier. You can also Lay on Hands for a bit of healing that recharges each long rest.

2. Paladin 2: Use your new Fighting Style to get better with your great sword with Great Weapon Fighting. This lets you re-roll ones and twos on your damage rolls with two handed weapons. when you combine this with your smites, it’ll get a lot of use. Oh, speaking of, you can use Divine Smite to add some radiant damage to your melee weapon attacks by burning a spell slot. Speaking of speaking of, you can cast and prepare Spells now using Charisma. Lance is more about the smiting than anything else, and you can also swap spells at will, so don’t get too worked up over what you take. 

3. Paladin 3: As a knight to the great King Arthur, you’re an Oath of the Crown paladin, meaning you can use your Channel Divinity in two different ways. Once per short rest, you can either issue a Champion Challenge or Turn the Tide. The former forces creatures within thirty feet of you to make a Wisdom save (DC 8 + your charisma modifier + your proficiency bonus) or they’re unable to move more than 30′ away from you. This ends if you can’t fight any more, or the creature is ever more than 30′ away from you. Interestingly enough, this doesn’t end if they’re incapacitated, so it’s good for locking down prisoners. The latter heals creatures you choose nearby if they’re bloodied. A lot of people get bloodied near you later, so it might be a good idea to save this. Both options use your bonus action.

You can also Harness Divine Power, spending a bonus action and your channel divinity use to regain a spell slot. Once again speaking of, you get the oath spells Command and Compelled Duel, meaning you don’t have to prepare them to use them. Forcing people to duel you would have solved a lot of problems you had while questing. Not the big one, but a lot of them.

Also, your Divine Health makes you immune to disease. Also also, Control Air and Water makes a comeback, and now you can cast Gust of Wind once per day too.

4. Paladin 4: We’re giving you a breather from all that stuff we got last level. This level, use your first Ability Score Improvement to grab the Tavern Brawler feat. This bumps up your Strength by one, makes you proficient with improvised weapons, improves your unarmed attacks by making them 1d4 instead of 1 damage, and you can grapple enemies as a bonus action after attacking with an improvised weapon. “A knight’s hands are never empty”, after all.

5. Paladin 5: Fifth level paladins get an Extra Attack with each attack action, and Control Air and Water comes back once again for one more freebie. Now you can cast Wall of Water once per day.

Speaking of casting, crown paladins get another level of spell slots and two more oath spells. Warding Bond will protect your fair maiden for up to an hour, giving them a bonus to AC and forcing you to take half their damage. You also get Zone of Truth, whose main purpose is to make things incredibly awkward between you and Artoria.

6. Paladin 6: Our last stop on the paladin train gives you an Aura of Protection, giving you and nearby allies a bonus to all saves equal to your charisma modifier. You’re good at saving against charms now, but at least you were lore compliant early on.

7. Warlock 1: Remember how you were raised by a faerie early on? It’s time to collect. Thanks to your Archfey patron, You can use your Fey Presence to frighten (or charm) creatures that fail a wisdom save once per short rest. You also get Pact Magic, spells that recharge on short rests that don’t quite mix with your existing magic. Just keep your paladin slots and warlock slots how they look on the paper. One class’s slots can cast the other’s spells though.

Speaking of spells: Sword Burst and True Strike for swording good, Armor of Agathys for armoring good, and Cause Fear to be more intimidating.

8. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, ways to customize their changeling experience. You get Fiendish Vigor so you can cast False Life on yourself at will, and save the other one for next level. You can also cast Charm Person- nobody said you weren’t sexy.

9. Warlock 3: Getting fancy new swords must be pretty common for knights. At third level you enter the Pact of the Blade, giving you a fancy greatsword you can summon as an action. If you’d prefer something a bit lighter, you can also cast Shadow Blade for a smaller blade... made of shadow.

You also get the invocation Improved Pact Weapon, adding 1 to your attack and damage rolls.

10. Bard 1: You’re the poster boy of being good at just about everything you try, with the exception of keeping it in your pants. That’s a bard, alright. First level bards get any one skill proficiency- Animal Handling will help you stay on your horse better (It doesn’t actually, but it really should).

You also get Bardic Inspiration, d6 you can hand out to allies to help them with attack rolls, skill checks, and saving throws that recharge on short rests. Finally, you get another round of Spells that use Charisma to cast. These spell slots mix with your paladin slots, so check the multiclassing page to figure out how many you have at any given time.

Grab Friends to be scarier and more charming, Dancing Lights and Faerie Fire for a bit more faerie magic, Heroism to lead your knights to glory, Longstrider to push yourself, and Speak with Animals. There were a lot of talking animals back then.

11. Bard 2: Being a Jack of All Trades makes you somewhat good at just about everything, adding half your proficiency to all skills. Camelot also gets a bit livelier thanks to your Song of Rest, adding a d6 to healing done on short rests.

Half the time you can hide your identity with as little as a new shield, so you can practically cast Disguise Self already.

12. Bard 3: You’re a master of weaponry, and so are Swords bards. You get another Fighting Style, and the Dual Wielding style will help you out when your hands are full by adding your strength to your offhand attacks. You can also spend your inspiration on Blade Flourishes, adding that much damage to your attack and gaining one of three options. A Defensive Flourish adds the same number to your AC, a Slashing Flourish deals that damage to another creature near you as well, and a Mobile Flourish forces the target backwards, and you can react to push the initiative. You can only flourish once per turn, but even if you don’t, attacking also adds 10 feet of movement to your speed for the turn.

You also get Expertise in two skills, doubling your proficiency in Religion and Intimidation. You came in second place in the Grail treasure hunt. That’s something to be proud of.

You can also cast Enhance Ability this level. It’s not quite the strength of four men, but it does give you the strength of two Lancelots, which is still quite a bit.

13 Warlock 4: It’s been a while since our last ASI, huh? Grab Fey Touched to bump up your Charisma and cast Misty Step or Gift of Alacrity once per long rest for free, or at any time like a normal spell. The former is teleportation, the latter gives a creature +1d8 to initiative for up to eight hours. You can also cast Booming Blade for even more swording, and Calm Emotions to delay your execution once the whole Guinevere thing gets out.

14. Warlock 5: Fifth level warlocks get third level spells like Spirit Shroud, giving you that cool shadowy thing your berserker self has to deal extra damage, slow down creatures nearby, and prevent them from healing. You also get the invocation Eldritch Smite- now you can smite while you smite!

15. Bard 4: Use this ASI to round up your Strength. This leaves you with one odd number-feel free to put this into anything you’d like, maybe you already got a +1 from something your DM gave you?

You also get Prestidigitation because I’m running out of cantrips to give you and Knock for a handy battering ram.

16. Bard 5: At fifth level of barding, your inspiration increases to a d8, also increasing the amount of damage your flourishes do. You also become a Font of Inspiration, allowing you to recharge inspiration dice on short rests.

Your final bard spell is Fear, because we haven’t spent enough time hammering home how scary an angry man wielding literally everything is yet.

17. Warlock 6: Sixth level feylocks can Misty Escape away when they get hit, using their reaction to turn invisible and teleport up to sixty feet away. Again, this would have been very useful in a multitude of situations while you were questing. Frankly this also would be super useful with the whole adultery thing too. Just bite your tongue and you’re out of the bedroom! You can use this once per short rest.

You can also call in a favor from your extended family by casting Summon Fey.

18. Warlock 7: Seventh level warlocks get fourth level spells, and we’re just gonna dip into your berserker self real quick, just for flavor. You get Shadow of Moil for another version of your shadow cloak, and the invocation Cloak of Flies for yet another version that makes you even scarier than usual.

19. Warlock 8: Use your last ASI to bump your Charisma even higher for stronger spells, stronger saves, and stronger persuasions. You can also cast Banishment now to help in your fight against more supernatural foes. Remember how I said the holy grail is probably guarded by celestials? Now you can deal with them.

20. Warlock 9: Your capstone level of warlock gives you fifth level spells and more importantly, fifth level spell slots. You can cast Contact Other Plane if you want to chat with those celestials you just threw back to Mount Celestia if you really want to. You can also use your final invocation Whispers of the Grave to chat with your ancestors or King Arthur.

Pros

Much like your boss, you’re really good at Smiting. A greatsword, plus eldritch smite, plus divine smite, plus a spirit shroud, plus a blade flourish, plus a crit is 4d6+28d8+5 damage in a single swing. It just beats out Lartoria’s smiting power, dealing an average of 145 points, with the added benefit of blocking the target from healing that back for a full round.

Bardadins are kind of good at everything. With at least half proficiency on all checks and +4 on all saves, you’re just about as skilled as you can get without excelling at anything. Aside from scaring your enemies.

Being good at everything also relates to being able to turn anything into a deadly weapon. Smiting a lich with a sword? Pedestrian. Everyone knows if you kill a lich with their own shinbone all their phylacteries break out of shame.

Cons

Your saves might be a bit better, but you still have low wisdom. Good luck finding that grail when you can barely find your own armor.

One big flaw of all that smiting? Almost no range. Flying and fast enemies can seriously put you through your paces.

Like most three fold multiclasses, this build takes forever to get online. You don’t get your final subclass until level 12, and you don’t get Eldritch Smite, which is kind of a selling point of the build, until level 14. Most games don’t even get that far.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Four

The companions, with their weapons at the ready, attacked the jabberwock. (Y/n) stood opposite of Prompto and kept an eye on the boys, casting spell after spell. She dodged the beast's tail when it swung in her direction and froze one of its legs. It tipped over and fell on its side, making in vulnerable.

They struck its underbelly until it recovered with a hiss and charged directly at Prompto. The boy was unable to avoid the attack and waited to feel the pain, but he felt nothing. All he heard was the sound of shattering glass. He saw the barrier protecting him and small branching cracks where the jabberwock's body slammed into it. The blonde sighed and looked past the beast toward Pestilence. "Thanks for the save, (Y/n)!"

She smiled in response and electrocuted the monster with a shockwave of lightning, deflecting its attention from the boy to her. It charged at her as she dispersed the barrier and casted an ice spell. A large ice shard protruded from the floor, impaling the beast through the stomach. Two more emerged from the floor, plunging into the jabberwock's sides and pinning it in place.

The royal retinue performed a cross-chain attack, siphoning the last of the beast's health. It released a deathly howl before the ice shards shattered and its body toppled over. The jabberwock's body vaporized, revealing the Sword of the Tall. Noctis kneeled beside the greatsword and held out his hand. The blade rose into the air with a radiant glow before disappearing into Noctis' chest. The royal arms in his possession encircled his body before shattering into radiant shards of crystal.

"Alright! We won!" Prompto cheered. "Now can we leave?"

"It's gonna be a long trek back," Gladio said.

"Not necessarily," (Y/n) spoke up. She wandered over to a strange mechanism on the floor and stepped on it. In the blink of an eye, she vanished.

"Wha-Where's she go?!" Prompto panicked.

Gladio and Ignis didn't question the strange mechanism and followed the Horseman's lead. They stepped on it and found themselves back at the entrance not too far from Pestilence.

"That was convenient," the shield commented.

"Warping mechanisms were used frequently during the ancient times to travel around. Morosely, the secret behind their manufacturing has forever been lost to the hands of time," the (e/c)-eyed girl said.

Then, Noctis and Prompto appeared next to them and were amazed at where they were transported. When they heard the blonde's stomach growl, all eyes fell on him. He blushed when he saw the grin on (Y/n)'s face.

"Sounds like we better make camp," Gladio smugly grinned.

"There's a haven nearby," Ignis informed his companions.

"Let's get moving before I collapse," Noctis sighed.

The group leave Costlemark Tower and discover it is nighttime. They learn they'd been inside the dungeon for nearly two days. When the cool breeze kissed their skin, that's when they felt the exhaustion setting in. All except for (Y/n).

At Oathe Haven, the boys set up camp. The Horseman begged them to let her help, but all of them had the same response. She sighed, watching them helplessly as they worked in tandem to set up the chairs, tent, and cooking station. Prompto started the fire while Noctis and Gladio pitched the tent. Ignis had set his sights on making dinner and immediately got to work.

Pestilence desperately wanted to occupy her mind and body, deciding to offer her help with cooking. She strolled over to Ignis with her hands behind her back. She leant forward when she reached his side. "I plan on helping in any way I can. May I?"

Ignis couldn't deny her help since he rarely received it from his friends. "I would appreciate the helping hand." He handed her a knife and she thanked him before beginning to slice the vegetables for the stew he was making. While cutting the garula sirloin, he couldn't help but glance in her direction and notice her skills with a knife. "You are quite nimble with your hands, (Y/n)."

She looked up from the potato she was slicing with a smile. "Just like you, I prepare meals back in the Inner Sanctum. My sisters and I do not need to eat, but we do still enjoy meals every now and then. Speaking of home..." She held out her hand and a small bottle manifested in her palm. "Fresh herbs that go delectably with any stew. I grew them myself. I've an herb garden back in the Inner Sanctum and I also grow coffee beans for War's sake. She's quite fond of coffee herself."

(Y/n) placed the vegetables in the pot, popped the lid off the glass vial, and sprinkled some herbs into the stew. Ignis wasn't bothered with her adding the herbs to his recipe. He actually was curious and welcomed the change.

Hearing the others complaining about their growling stomachs, the advisor rolled his eyes as he added the garula meat. When he went to stir the stew, the Horseman stopped him by nudging him away from the stove. "You should be relaxing. I will handle the rest, Ignis."

Gladio saw how (Y/n) grabbed the strategist and escorted him to his seat around the campfire. "What's this-Iggy being kicked out of the kitchen? That's the first."

"To some extent-yes," the white-haired girl responded. "I will handle the rest while he relaxes."

Once Ignis was seated, the Horseman spun on her heels and tended to dinner. The boys stared at her back as she stirred the stew. Prompto leant forward in his chair and scrolled through the numerous of pictures he'd taken throughout their trek through Costlemark Tower. When he came across one of the battle with the jabberwock, he showed it to the others. "Gotta say-this one's pretty good!"

It was a picture of (Y/n) grasping her staff right after the ice shards shattered. The crystal-like shards rained down around her, creating a beautiful image as the dim lights from the machinery around her bounced off the ice shards. The small hint of a smile on the girl's face made it even more alluring.

"That's a keeper," Gladio commented.

"Definitely!" The blonde cheered. He turned off his camera just as Pestilence handed out dinner. The boys thanked her and immediately munched down.

When they all took the first bite, they froze. Prompto swallowed and glanced up at (Y/n), who stood between his chair and Ignis'. "This is Iggy's recipe, right?"

"Yes," she nodded. "With a small twist of my own."

"And what's the small twist?" Noctis asked as he pushed the vegetables around in the broth.

"A combination of herbs I grew myself." (Y/n)'s smile fell. "Does it not taste good?"

"The taste is extraordinary, (Y/n)," Ignis reassures her when he saw her frown.

The Horseman placed a hand on her chest and sighed in relief. "Thank goodness..."

Suddenly, Pestilence's (e/c) eyes widen in horror. She immediately turns around, staring into the darkness beyond the haven. Her eyes dart back and forth in her head as she searches the shadows of the night. She walks to the edge of the haven, eyes continuing to frantically search the area.

Noctis was the first to notice her strange behavior and called out to her. "What's wrong?" Hearing the prince, the others glanced in the direction he was looking and saw the girl acting strangely. She didn't answer and before any of them could stand from their seats, she disappeared in a puff of white smoke.

The boys flew to their feet and called out for the Horseman, but none of them received a response. "W-Where'd she go?" Prompto muttered as they looked around.

"How should we know?" Noctis inquired.

Out of the blue, Ignis felt a warm sensation in his pocket. Glancing down, he could see the orb glowing through the fabric of his pants. He fished it out of his pocket, eyeing the artifact closely. Before batting an eye, (Y/n) appeared right in front of him with a heavy sigh, a small apology, and took a few steps back to give the strategist his space. "I fear I sensed the draugr nearby and took a look. It seems to have fled and I've lost its signature. I apologize for the abrupt departure."

"I'm confused," Noctis said. "Most daemons avoid you, but what about beasts and monsters from your world?"

"Beasts have far less intelligence than daemons and also do not know we work for the daemon king himself. Monsters from the Inner Sanctum, on the other hand, have grown accustomed to our scent and no longer fear my sisters and I." (Y/n) combed a few strands of hair from her face and behind her ear before clearing her throat and changing the subject. "I see that you four are done with dinner. I will wash the dishes."

The Horseman walked around and gathered the bowls and utensils from them before placing them on the table beside the stove. Ignis tried to help, but she quickly placed herself between him and dishes. She only casted a small smile over her shoulder in his direction as she began cleaning.

Reluctantly, Ignis joined his friends inside the tent. Prompto and Noctis were playing on their phones while Gladio has his nose buried in a book. The tactician still held the orb in his hand, watching the silver wisp encased inside bounce against the glass.

Prompto glanced up from his phone and saw the royal advisor admiring the artifact. He scooted closer to Ignis and stared at it, too. "Glad we found it and not those creeps."

"Indeed," the emerald-eyed man responded, his eyes solely focused on the orb.

"What did (Y/n) call him-Silas or something like that?" Noctis spoke up after overhearing them.

"Apparently, he's the leader of thing so called "gang". A few people were talkin' about him in Lestallum. Bastard's been terrorizing most of Lucis for that damn orb," Gladio said, joining in on their conversation.

"I can't believe we've never heard of him or these highwaymen 'til now," Noctis scoffed.

"A troupe of ruffians is simply what they are," Ignis responded.

"Let's just hope they don't plan on becoming a nuisance," Gladio said.

"Might be too late for that," Prompto stated, sliding his phone into his pocket. He yawned and threw his body down against the bottom of the tent. "Don't know about you guys, but I'm callin' it a night." Crawling into a ball, the blonde fell asleep only a few seconds later. Noctis soon joined him followed by Gladio.

Ignis switched off the lamp in the tent and set it aside to prevent anyone from knocking it over while they slept. He moved to where he usually slept and lied down. A few minutes passed and he finally fell asleep.

<--------<<<<<<<

A few hours later, Ignis' eyes flew wide open and his upper body shot off the ground. His body was doused in a cold sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly. He ran a hand through his slightly damp locks before glancing around the tent. Luckily, his abrupt awakening didn't wake the others.

Carefully, Ignis maneuvered through the tent and unzipped it. He stepped outside, noticing the fire had died and the faint rays of the sun could be seen in the sky.

"Nightmare?" A gentle voice asked him, startling him. Ignis looks to his left and sees (Y/n) standing a few feet away with a concerned expression. As he examined her, he noticed she had cleansed her clothes of the blood. He simply nodded, deciding to keep the contents of his nightmare a secret. The Horseman followed him to the chairs gathered around the once brightly lit fire and sat beside him. "I won't pry, but the way you're sweating tells me it was horrible."

"It was," Ignis responds. He placed a gloved hand against his forehead, wiping away some of the sweat. Though he was free from the nightmare, the images were burnt into his mind. The screaming and begging continued to ring in his ears even during his waking moments.

(Y/n) leaned forward in the seat and crossed her legs. "Would you like a warm cup of coffee?"

Ignis nodded, staring at the small fire pit in front of them. "Please."

Pestilence stood up and got to work on his cup of coffee. When she asked what he preferred, she was shocked to discover he wanted the same blend she made for him in Lestallum. "Coming right up."

Ignis reclined back in the chair, staring up at the semi-dark sky. He closed his eyes to see if he could get a few more minutes of sleep, but only the image of (Y/n) begging with tears in hers eyes before plummeting to her death plagued his mind. He opened his eyes when he smelt the familiar scent of coffee.

The Horseman offered him the tin cup, which he accepted with a faint smile. He sipped at the warm beverage, letting the bittersweet taste cascade across all his tastebuds.

(Y/n), once again, claimed the seat next to him and they chatted just like they did in the Leville a couple days ago. Their conversation carried on for hours until Gladio and Prompto woke up a little after seven.

"Morning!" The blonde boy greets the two as he emerges from the tent alongside the shield.

Gladio saw the tired expression on Ignis' face and scowled. "Didn't get enough sleep, Iggy?"

"A horrid nightmare startled me awake," he confesses. "I was unable to fall back asleep after awakening the first time."

"What was the nightmare about? Must've been pretty scary if it kept you from falling back asleep," Prompt eagerly pried.

Ignis glanced at (Y/n) for a brief second before his eyes darted back to the cup of coffee in his hand. "I'd prefer not to speak of it."

"Damn," Gladio said. "That bad, huh?"

"Undeniably horrifying."

The four fell silent as they sat in the four chairs around the fire pit. After a few minutes of suffocating silence, Gladio cleared his throat and looked at Pestilence. "Guess we're headin' to the Rock of Ravatogh next. After that, I want to head back to Lestallum. I can't let Iris go to Caem all by herself after what happened."

"Of course, Gladio. We all wish for Iris' safety," the girl responded. "The trek up the volcano will be less treacherous than our venture through Costlemark. Although steep, I know you all can handle it."

"Better wake Prince Charmless so we can get this show on the road." Gladio stood from the chair and headed over to the tent.

"We're gonna eat breakfast first, right?" Prompto glanced between Ignis and (Y/n). They both nodded, making the gunslinger pump a fist into the air. "Yes!"

[alisinchainmail]

More from the crossover fanfic no one asked for but everyone's getting...

Kylo + Quinn: The Last Harlequin: Ch. 1.2

[Gif sources: Part 1, Part 2]

Writers' favorite excerpt from Kylo + Quinn Chapter 1.2 of The Last Harlequin:

He exhales sharply through his nose and straightens. "My Knights of Ren detected you in our no fly zone. You didn't respond to our warnings we sent, so we mistook you for a threat."

She rolls her eyes, annoyed at the jab. "I guess I'm going to have to forgive you and your little Space Knights of Ni for not knowing who I am..." She does a flashy roundoff back handspring and flips over him so she's between him and her bat. "Harley Quinn, nice to meet ya." She extends her now uncuffed hand to the dark knight.

Overcompensating with stillness to hide that he's impressed with the stunt from an Earth girl, he looks down his nose at her hand. "Kylo Ren," he says quietly, giving her the decency of a reply. 

Harley withdraws her hand, slightly offended he still doesn't seem to have heard of her, "Never heard of me? The Cupid of Crime? The Maiden of Mischief? Princess... of Darkness." She trails off on that last one, unsure if she recently lost that title. "Formerly..." she corrects it quickly.

Kylo plays her game, "Leader of the Knights of Ren, Champion of the First Order, and Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke." He takes a step towards her, towering over her. She tilts her head acknowledging she has no idea what any of that really means, either.

"You're not part of the Resistance," he states more than asks. "However, the vehicle you stole has connections to the Rebellion. How?"

Clearly there's a lot of space politics that is not public knowledge on Earth. Why would Bruce Wayne be involved in space wars? He's probably friends with that Elon Muskrat. He's pretty sus with all that Space X shit.

She responds innocently, "Look, I just saw the thing in some local billionaire's driveway, and thought, 'Why not go for a joy ride?'" Kylo steps closer studying her expressions. Harley squints, "What?!" 

Kylo shakes his head, "The Empire has no use for you then. We'll decide what to do with you, or what remains of you, when we're done searching the vehicle."

Harley squints at him, gathering a pretty clear psychological profile from that golden threat of a response, his list of self-important titles, and his demeanor. It all screams of daddy issues.

If he wanted to kill her, he would've done it already. Is he her enemy or a potential new ally? How far can she push this guy before she finds out the hard way? 

She smirks and fires off, "So...you're building a crown-rule empire because daddy kicked you out. And you think this is a big fuck you, but in actuality it's a very misguided attempt to win back his respect." Kylo grips his helmet, and narrows his eyes at her.

Harley slowly steps back towards her bat, she looks at his mask grinning, "Daddy wanted a son, so now he has to hide behind a mask...I get it!" Kylo slams his helmet down on a sidetable next to him. This was too easy!

Harley continues, "Awh it's ok! I bet your mom still loves you. Mom's usually do... if they have the time to notice you through your desperate attention-seeking behavior." He looks in shock. 

She's really hitting a nerve with this guy. How is he so easy to read? "Or maybe you're trying to destroy the very thing that distracted her from you in the first place. Classic only child syndrome. She's part of this rebellion thing isn't she? Gotta love a rebel girl." Kylo lurches at her.

Harley lunges for the bat, but Kylo quickly raises his hand at it, sending it flying across the room. Harley looks at her empty hand, then across the room where it landed. What is he? Some sort of space wizard?

Harley shakes off her confusion, "Won't let me play with your toys? What would I expect from an only child with deep-seated father issues?"

Kylo yells, "Stop...TALKING," as he grabs at Harley. She dodges. Time to go all in.

"Tell me, what did dear old dad do to you? Or was it someone else? Got an uncle who paid some unnecessary visits to your bedside when mommy and daddy were away?"

Kylo clenches his fist and rolls his eyes. That was a hit. Harley taunts, "Awwhhh did I sink your battleship?"

"ENOUGH," he roars, grabbing a handle from his hilt and firing out a massive red flaming greatsword.

Harley stares at the new weapon in disbelief. "Come on! Lazer swords?! At least let me use my dinky baseball bat. I'm Little League compared to that!"

Co-Writer's (Brian) Notes:

I love this as an introduction to their relationship. Harley always has to get the last word in and Kylo is always struggling to keep his composure. Both their characteristics make them butt heads, and also is why they work.

They’re always gonna have a back forth with their personalities. A yin and yang basically where he’ll constantly try and stay level and she’ll try to trip him up.

Writer's (Alisin) Notes:

I like this part of the scene for their chaotic, impulsive energy playing off each other in different ways. Also for her first exposure to the world of Star Wars, which her inexperience with the world helps me get away with the fact I still haven't seen all of the Star Wars franchise yet and am newer to the fandom. We're sort of figuring out the world together.

I wanted them to be fairly evenly matched, which — much like with Rey— is Kylo's first experience with someone on equal ground like that, so it throws him off at first.

Harley is skilled with getting in people's heads from a psychoanalytical standpoint, whereas Kylo uses more of a brute force approach later in the scene. Luke criticized the way the Knights of Ren use the dark side of the force as being unskilled "like a hammer". I bring that characterization into Kylo.

Kylo wields his emotions and fighting style with a lot of intensity rather than precision and agility. In spite of his bloodline making him a more powerful force wielder, he can be quite clumsy with it. As though his power is greater than himself and the conflict he carries disrupts his clarity in his actions, while also fueling the power of the dark side through his raw emotion.

With Harley, I like to keep her dancing in between both, since as a character she is more morally gray.

Her weapons of choice are sometimes literal hammers but her fighting style and wit can be very fluid and agile, similar to the fighting styles of those who utilize the light side of the force. Her actions are impulsive, but not clouded in self-judgements. Without the Joker's influence, she knows herself well enough to have some faith that her impulses are in alignment with her fluid morality.

And to bring it all back ti Brian's point:

Kylo is brute force like Harley’s weapon and she’s skilled and precise like a sword, his weapon. Neither will admit it but both could run into situations where the others methods work better. Harley has been forced to be chaotic in her approach for so long she’s sort of rebelling against it in her style. Kylo has been wielding the force like a hammer for so long that everything looks like a nail. This further adds to their yin and yang relationship dynamic and how they’ll be able to survive by adapting the others' strengths when they need them.

[GIF Source: Part 1, Part 2]

Check out the full chapter on Wattpad: The Last Harlequin. For mature audiences only.

Kylo and Harley's first meeting was originally going to be more simple, but then it just took a life of its own. This whole chapter was originally 4 parts for the Tiktok series, and now it's pushing 16 on Wattpad...and I'm still not done writing it. I have a drug trip scene in the works where they take an intense hallucinogen called Jabbawaska. Yes, this is how ridiculous the Wattpad gets. They're fun characters to write for and it's interesting to see how they bring new characteristics out of each other.

Episodes are currently being posted daily on Tiktok: @KyloQuinnCrossover. Chapter 1 exists in full on YouTube.

Part 1: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNHnKH/

Part 2: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNAJAE/

Part 3: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNGWTx/

Part 4: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNGwEn/

Ch.1.10 WP Promo: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePN4pAy/

Ch.1.11 WP Promo: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNPmUS/

Ch.1.12 WP Promo: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNsnY7/

[sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shelby]

Possibly my most epic DnD session yet! (now with sloppy illustrations!)

****Late-game spoilers for Hoard of the Dragon Queen****

I play as Killian Lyle. Level 6 human fighter, eldritch knight, lawful good. +4 str, con. -2 cha. You know the type.

Others in the party are: Rat-Rat, the forest gnome druid. Syrris, the wood-elf rogue. Montagor, the half-elf bard.

So, the last thing Killian did the session before was reenter a tavern our party got kicked out of and try to bribe the tavern keeper to help us get past some baddies. Big tough-looking tavern keeper grabs his weapon. *Roll initiative* End of session.

In Killian’s hands were a shield and a loaf of bread he had recently been served in that tavern. He was alone, the rest of his party discussing plans outside. We all rolled initiative, but only Killian was aware there was going to be combat so far. A couple of the party members got to go first. Basically just wandered town square, taking in surroundings. There are a whole bunch enemy guards nearby, watching, but not picking a fight with the group. 

Killian’s turn. He steps forward and tries to FORCE THE LOAF OF BREAD INTO THE GUYS MOUTH to catch him off-guard and maybe keep him quiet for a second. SMASHING SUCCESS! Guy is unable to stop me from jamming those carbs down his throat and drops his weapon. I bonus action my sword to my hand.

Tavern-keeper’s turn. DM has the guy do a con save to make sure he doesn’t CHOKE TO DEATH AND DIE!  *shit, shit, I didn’t want to kill him!!!* Luckily he saves and is able to clear his airway of bread. He starts swinging fists and misses.

Keep going in initiative order. Guest calls out “HES FIGHTING THE BARTENDER!” Most guests at the tavern flee upstairs, but 2 pull daggers and join in. Montagor the bard hears some commotion and opens the door to see Killian shoving bread down the tavern-keeper’s throat and other people moving in with weapon’s drawn. Tries playing the bagpipes nice and loud for extra diversion, but nat 1′s and pops the bag. Syrris the rogue comes in and starts quietly and *permanently* eliminating anyone attacking with a weapon. Killian tries multiple times to thunk the tavern-keeper on the head with the hilt of his sword well enough to knock him out, but the dude keeps fighting. Poor guy can’t make a single hit though. 

This fight’s going longer than Killian was hoping. He tries a different tactic: INTIMIDATE. Another smashing success. Like a 19 or something, since intimidate is his one charisma-based skill that doesn’t get a negative modifier. BARTENDER GETS A NAT 1! Surrenders. Killian backs off just before the Captain of the group of enemies walks in.

“WHAT”S GOING ON IN HERE!?”

Killian gambles on deception. NAT 20 “Some guys were fighting the tavern-keeper. We helped. They’re dead now.”

Intimidated tavern-keeper nods, says they were going to rob him.

Enemy captain thanks us for protecting his friend and leaves. WOW, DODGED A BULLET THERE!

We head out too, Killian dropping a couple of gold coins for the tavern-keeper as he heads out, and start looking for a good way to get past the guards. We’re trying to get into a GIANT ICE CASTLE that’s about to FLY AWAY. Time’s running out. I’m not sneaky, but we’re about to give it a try, see if our amazing rolls continue. We decide to peek in the giant stable that had HUGE REPTILIAN GROWLS coming from it. This would either be really bad or really good for us. 

Really good! Tied-up wyverns along one wall, riding harnesses on the other. The ice castle begins to take off. Guess we’re doing this! We smell the stink of meat from a nearby building. The rogue is unable to carry a full pig carcass herself. Killian goes to help. NAT 20! Throws a pig over one shoulder, and a sheep over the other and marches off toward the wyverns. Killian has crap animal handling skills, but Rat-Rat the druid doesn’t. Killian keeps the things distracted with bites of meat, Rat-Rat puts the harnesses on them with great success. We climb on, again without incident. And Rat-Rat is apparently a natural-born dragon-rider because he came up with an incredible plan that worked without a hitch. 

Minor-illusion the image of a fat turkey, flying just out of reach of the wyvern. Bard prestidigitation’s the smell of juicy meat coming off the “turkey”. Wyverns were eager to follow. Probably more complicated than it needed to be, but hey, it has pizzazz!

We are able to catch up to the ice castle and land they wyverns near another stable that they seemed trained to fly to. Looking around, ogres and kobolds seem to pay us no mind. Guess randos flying in on the backs of dragon things is a normal sight around here. But as it starts getting dark, creatures seem to hurry their tasks and make their way indoors. We figure we’d better do so as well. Quietly enter the first door we approach. Amazingly, nobody’s there. Not out and about anyway. There’s a comfortably furnished room right when we walk through the door, but we decide to keep exploring. Rat-Rat casts detect magic. The comfortable room has an illusory wall to an outside platform, but nothing else of note. 

We hear a familiar voice arguing with another voice in another room. A wizard we’d rather not exchange blows with if we can help it. Luckily, according to the DM’s dice rolls, they notice nothing.

Then, further down the hall we heard another familiar voice. Rezmir, the dragonborn cult leader we’ve been tracking for MONTHS. Basically in the first spot we look. Wow, really? And none of us are hurt. Most of us have all of our spell slots and other abilities still available to us. Could this be more perfect? Rat-Rat does see a bit of magic in the room in the last moments before his spell times out, but that’s to be expected, right?

There is a lock.“It looks much more complicated than any lock you’ve encountered before”, the DM tells us. But our rogue is pretty skilled in her arts. She decides to give it a try. 

“With my modifier that was a 30.″ Huh. What luck. DM said later that was a DC 25 lock. 

Rezmir was inside, sitting on her bed in her pajamas, just loving on her doggos. I mean attack drakes. Not paying us any mind whatsoever. *roll initiative*

Syrris goes first. Perfect opportunity for an assassination with her poison dagger and all those extra dice rolls she gets in just this sort of situation. She steps into the room and is SNATCHED UP AND HELD DOWN BY A SENTIENT AREA RUG! I should’ve drawn this part too because I can’t help but imagine the magic carpet from Aladdin wrestling the elf.

Anyway, fighting then ensues. Attack drakes come running, keeping the rest of the party besides the rogue out in the hall. Rezmir starts out unarmed, and shoots off a scary-looking spell at our bard. It misses and melts the wall behind him. Thank goodness it missed. Rogue takes 2 turns escaping the rug, Rezmir runs for her sword across the room. Rat-Rat’s moonbeaming Rezmir rather successfully. Killian and the Montagor are mostly in melee with the drakes, but Killian did start with a firebolt to Rezmir’s face. This fight hurts, both sides taking plenty of damage.

The rogue is taking the brunt of the damage trapped inside the bedroom with the dragonborn and that mean magic carpet. She takes it like a champ, but there’s a turn for the worse when she’s ready for healing. The bard’s starts coming to her aid, and she takes more damage, this time from the sword. Healing has no effect from that point.... The sword did something to stop her from regaining hit points, and after the significant damage from its blade, that’s bad news.

Bard and Rogue get caught in a breath attack, and the rogue goes down. Killian and Rat-Rat are still outside of the room, Killian around a corner and can’t actually see Rezmir from where he’s at. Shit. We still have one drake remaining. Killian tries his best with two attacks to eliminate it, but does min damage on both and it remains standing. Fuck it. Time for an Action Surge. Moves past the drake to where he’s in melee with Rezmir herself, stepping out from around the corner. Double attack again. Hits on both. NAT 20 ON THE SECOND! 

“How did it happen?”, the DM asks. I’m floored that I managed to down her in that hit.

“Killian steps around the corner, swinging his sword to where her saw the breath attack originate, slicing through her pajamas into the scales beneath. He then makes eye contact with her and sees the recognition in her face as she looks his way in surprise, even as he’s pulling back his sword for a second strike. Killian lunges full-force, plunging the sword right through her before she has the chance to react.”

“FOOLS!”, she cries out with her final breath as she disintegrates into ash, her sword and a couple of keys clanging to the floor where she had stood. Simultaneously an ornate chest in the far corner of the room violently explodes, destroying anything that might’ve been inside.

We rush to the Syrris, and Rat-Rat stabilizes her. Killian places her on the bed to rest. Then eyes turn toward the items Rezmir left behind. Killian voices that the rogue won’t be pleased to see the chest exploded when she regains consciousness, but doesn’t personally care much that the loot is no more. The party uses one of the keys in the pile of ash that was Rezmir to relock the room so they can use the comfortable chamber for a night of recuperation before continuing venturing back into the castle.

“Killian, I think you’re the only one of us that could wield that sword.”, Rat-Rat squeaks, pointing to the one remaining object on the ground.

The sword is jagged and black with a purple crystal in the hilt. Something about it makes Killian uneasy.

Killian replies, “A greatsword... Doesn’t really suit my fighting style. But it seems a powerful blade. ” Then he picks it up off the floor feeling powerful magic coursing through it, and hears a voice in his head.

“Hello”, the sword whispers, darkly. “You enjoyed that kill, didn’t you.”

Oh man, having my lawful good, magic fanatic, fighter boy weigh the benefits of wielding a legendary magical sword of untold power, against the moral drawback of it being intelligent and EVIL is going to be a wild ride. He has attuned to it, and we’ll see where this takes us. 

I’m still reeling from all the amazing things that happened in this session. What a day for Killian in particular. 

[lesetoilesfous]

OwO could I get an “I’m only here to establish an alibi.” for Hawke/Isabela?

Ooooh! Hawke/Isabela you say, the wlw, one could say....

(If you want me to write you a prompt for da2, you can find my prompt post here!)

I was in the mood for soft mages in love, I hope you enjoy this! @dadrunkwriting

Pairing: F!Hawke / Isabela

Characters: Marian Hawke, Isabela

Tags: What even is a timeline, shenanigans

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

“So.” Hawke’s tone was infuriatingly self-satisfied. Isabela refused to look at her. The woman was lounging on one of her family’s (once expensive, now moth-eaten) armchairs, and looking like the cat which had caught the proverbial canary. In the grate, a fire roared. Next to Hawke’s feet, her mabari lay quiet and tired from a day of...whatever the woman had been doing whilst Isabela was pissing off someone rather more senior in the Carta than she’d anticipated. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Isabela walks out of her line of sight, folding her arms tightly across her chest, and cursing herself again for being a damn fool.

Hawke tilts her head back in her chair, looking at Isabela upside-down. “Like what?” Her dark hair hangs messily from her head. It was childish. She shouldn’t find it so charming.

“Like I’m here of my own free will. I’m only here to establlish an alibi.” Isabela glares at the distant ceiling of the Amell mansion and thinks she can see a cobweb. Wealth was wasted on a woman like Hawke, who cared little for its accoutrements. She shouldn’t find that charming either.

“Right, right. What was the name of this dwarf, again?”

“Jaris Tevonak.” Isabela taps her arm and wonders whether it isn’t too late to just steal a ship and leave this city and all the people in it. She wants to be on the sea again. She can feel the ache for it like a physical thing, hooked into her chest, pulling at her ribcage. And the Qunari are gone, now. She’d done the heroic thing, even if she still wasn’t sure whether it was the clever one. Why was he still here?

Hawke gets to her feet, and Isabela turns to face her, raising an eyebrow when the woman moves to her liqour cabinet and raises a cut glass in her direction. “Drink?”

Isabela narrows her eyes. “What have you got?”

The corners of Hawke’s lips twitch into another of those infuriating smiles as she pours a glass of clear amber liquid. Isabela can taste the warmth of it from halfway across the room. “Nothing but the best for you, Bela.”

Isabela frowns. “Don’t call me that.”

Hawke looks honestly chagrined, then, and crosses the room, offering her the glass. “Sorry. Forgive me?” She gives Isabela a lopsided smile, and Isabela takes the glass, feeling the moment their fingertips touch like a jolt of electricity.

Isabela takes the glass and drinks. It is good liquour, rolling smoothly down her throat like liquid fire. She ignores the expression on Hawke’s face as she watches her. “I’ll consider it.” She grants, reluctantly.

Hawke hums, turning back to the cabinet, the red silk of her finery bright in the firelight. She pours herself a glass. “So here’s what I can’t figure out.”

isabela frowns. “What?” She makes no effort to hide her suspicion. That tone in Hawke’s voice never led anywhere good. Often, it led her into the mouths of dragons. Literally.

Hawke turns and leans back against the cabinet, lifting the glass to her lips and making eye contact with Isabela as she drinks. Isabela maintains it. She refuses to lose at her own game. Hawke grins at her, bright and sharp. In the grate, the fire spits. “You’re in trouble with the Carta.”

“Yes.”

“So why not go to Varric?” Hawke poses the question innocently enough, but Isabela is not and has never been fool enough to believe it. “I mean. He’s the dwarf. He’s the one who’s actually from Kirkwall. He’s the one with the spy network. I’m flattered that you think I’d be much help, but Isabela, I’m fully aware that you can handle yourself. I’m not sure how much one Ferelden with a sword can do.”

Isabela looks away, and it’s a clumsy show of her hand but it’s the only thing she can do to maintain the illusion of control. She scowls at the fire. “False modesty doesn’t suit you, sweet thing.” Expression once again under control, Isabela turns back to look at Hawke. “There is a great deal that the Champion of Kirkwall can do to protect me.”

Hawke raises her eyebrows. “Never took you for one who put much stock in titles.”

She didn’t. But Champion wasn’t just a title. It was a rank. It was earned. Isabela could still see the woman in front of her, skewered by the midriff on the Arishok’s sword, whimpering. She could still feel Fenris’ arm across her chest, holding her back. She still wasn’t quite sure she’d forgiven him, for that. She wondered if Hawke had a scar. 

Hawke shrugs away from the cabinet and crosses the stone floor. Her mabari lifts its head and watches her as she goes. Within moments, they’re standing toe to toe. The fire licks gold across the side of Hawke’s face, gleaming in the raven-black silk of her hair. Hawke lifts her chin. “You know what I think?”

Isabela raises her eyes to the ceiling and ignores the flutter of something young and childish in her chest. “What do you think Marian?”

Hawke moves to the table beside her armchair and sets down her glass. “I think you trust me, Isabela.” She isn’t laughing now. 

Isabela doesn’t look at her. She tells herself she could if she wanted to. (She couldn’t).

Hawke doesn’t touch her, but her voice is soft with the warmth of a kiss. “Would you look at me?”

Isabela lifts her chin, and looks into bright blue eyes. She tries to shrug, tries to laugh. She doesn’t think either of them are convinced by it. “So you’ve caught me. Now what? You’ll send me back out into the mad, bad night of Kirkwall?”

Hawke grins, letting her move the conversation somewhere lighter.  “I wouldn’t dare.” Isabela finishes her drink. It tastes like smoke and caramel. Hawke looks at her out of the corner of her eye. “But you know I trust you, too, Isabela. With my life.”

Isabela snaps. “Why?”

Hawke blinks, and if she’s taken aback by Isabela’s irritation she doesn’t show it. “I’m sorry?”

Isabela downs the rest of her drink and marches to the liquor cabinet, helping herself to the bottle. “Why do you care? Why do you trust me? I’ve done nothing to earn either.”

Hawke frowns. “Well I’m afraid I’d have to disagree with both of those -” Isabela chugs from the bottle, feeling it fall into her chest like fire, and Hawke raises her eyebrows. “Are you alright?”

Isabela sets down the bottle with a dull thunk on the wood. “I’m a liar. I’m a thief.”

Hawke’s mouth curls into a wry smile. “That makes two of us.”

Isabela scowls. “I’m a pirate. I’m a cheat. I betrayed you once, I’ll do it again.”

Hawke folds her arms across her chest. “I’m a big girl Isabela. I can make my own choices.”

Isabela sets down the bottle and tastes alcohol on her tongue and wants to grab Hawke, to shake her, to do something. “Then why won’t you let me warn you? I’m no good for you! I’m no good for anyone - shit.” She presses the heel of her hand to her head and tries to think. “This wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

Hawke looks at her, curious and warm. “What did you imagine?”

Isabela shrugs. “Sex, probably. Flirting. No feelings necessary.”

Hawke hums, knowingly, and looks at Isabela. Isabela meets her gaze. After a moment, both of them laugh. When Hawke looks at her again, her cheeks are flushed, though whether it’s with laughter or alcohol Isabela can’t tell. She looks over her shoulder at the liquor cabinet. “Have we got any brandy left?” Isabela shrugs, and tries to ignore the part of her that hangs, breathlessly, onto the smile in Hawke’s eyes as she turns. “Hold that thought.” Hawke refills their glasses, and raises hers to Isabela’s. They toast with a soft chink of cut glass. Isabela makes herself meet Hawke’s eyes. 

“What have you done to me?”

Hawke smiles at her. “Absolutely nothing,” She lowers her eyes, then, and gently traces her fingers over the inside of Isabela’s wrist. When she looks up, she seems almost shy. “But, if you’d let me -,” Isabela catches her breath, and for once she chooses not to stop her. Hawke’s hand moves up from her wrist, to her arm, and gently clasps the side of her neck. Her thumb brushes Isabela’s jaw. She says, softly, “Isabela, I -”

Her mabari starts barking. Then there’s an explosion, and the Carta are laying siege to the Amell Estate. Isabela draws her daggers and Hawke swears, scrambling for her greatsword.

“I kind of thought the Carta thing was a ruse.” Hawke shouts. 

Isabela laughs. “I told you I was trouble.”

Then she dives into the fray.

[djemsostylist]

What is Libertas?

Tl;dr Libertas is the Sword of the Red Hilt, first wielded by Galahad in the Quest for the Holy Grail, and Nathaniel Garro is probably a descendent of Joseph of Arimathea. Or something.

Okay, so this summer, while waiting for the next Siege book, I started a thorough reading of Arthurian Legend.  I’ve read Malory and de Troyes and I’m currently making my way through Vulgate.  (Bear with me, this is going somewhere I promise)  It was in reading Malory though, that something kind of crystalized. 

I got access to Saturnine back in early quarantine, like mid-March or so.  The whole book was phenomenal of course--particularly the part with the Kill Teams.  The whole thing is cathartic and chaotic and perfect, but it was also the first time we’ve seen Loken and Garro in a while--and damn was it an outing for both of them.  But it was also where we sort of went from “Libertas is a really good sword” to, “okay, what is up with Libertas?”  And while it seems the most obvious answer is “Excalibur” because swords in stones and all that, I actually think there is a better answer. 

From Saturnine (pg 331 of the ebook): “Garro cartwheeled, and landed hard, his pauldron splintered. Libertas had been knocked out of his grip. The sword had landed two metres from him, tip down, the blade buried a third of its length deep in the stone floor...Kibre thumped towards {Garro]. He glanced at the sword, quivering in the ground. He’d seen what it could do...He grabbed it to pull it free. It would not budge. He pulled harder, applying the full might of his amplified body and amplified plate.

Libertas would not come free...Garro was on his feet again...Garro slid the sword out of the stone with no effort at all. The blade came up, and impaled Kibre through the chest.”  (Kibre failing to draw the sword is important--remember it, and we’ll come back to it later).

My immediate reaction on reading it was “holy shit, EXCALIBUR?????” because yes, Excalibur was technically the sword Arthur received from the lady in the lake after pulling the sword from the stone and then breaking it fighting Pellinore, but also the tales are often confusing because Malory refers to both swords as Excalibur (because of the differing versions in Vulgate), and then there’s Caliburn from Geoffrey of Monmouth which is probably also Excalibur, and yeah.  Anyway, the point is that while the sword in the stone isn’t really Excalibur, it also kind of is for most people, so that would seem to be the obvious answer to “what is Libertas?” when you have a sword that only certain people can pull from a stone. 

EXCEPT that reading both Malory and various other Arthurian legends this summer led to another and actually more fitting answer. 

First let me start with what we know about Libertas (mostly taken from Garro and Flight of the Eisenstein).  It’s a greatsword, easily wielded two handed, and has “elements” from Old Earth before the Age of Strife.  We know that it is a power sword (so likely the hilt has been replaced and the “elements” are in the blade) and that holding it makes Garro feel “complete” and “right”.  

But perhaps the most interesting bit we have about Libertas is this passage from Garro: “At the last second, the legionary jack-knifed and fell on the attacker with his sword aimed down. The tip of the blade almost hit the mark, a fraction of a centimetre from the point where the neck-ring of the attacker’s armour joined the helmet seal. Had it fallen true, Libertas would have sliced down inside his collarbone, bursting through lung and primary heart. Instead, the sword tip slashed away hood and cloak, screeching down the chest plate to leave a sparking gouge in the ceramite. In the bright aura of the power sword, Garro saw the colour of his adversary’s wargear for the first time. A matte yellow-gold that could only belong to one legion.” 

This is Nathaniel Garro.  He’s a consummate swordsman.  He doesn’t miss.  We know Libertas is a strong blade--it is capable of literally bisecting fully armored marines.  And yet, the sword skips.  Nathaniel Garro jumps on a man, blade down, and somehow, despite the close range, element of surprise, and the fact that he’s Nathaniel Garro, it misses.  What it does do, however, is reveal a disguised brother for who he truly is.  Remember this--we’ll also come back to it in a bit.   

Then, of course, is the iconic moment in Saturnine, where Libertas is embedded in the stone, and Kibre fails to pull it out, Garro succeeds, and then Kibre is subsequently killed by Libertas. 

So this means Libertas is special.  The sword itself has meaning, unlike say Rubio’s sword, whose “specialness” is mostly in that it shows off Loken’s latent psyker abilities.  But Excalibur is a little too famous for Libertas.  Firstly, because Excalibur is a king’s sword--whether given by the Lady of the Lake, or pulled from the stone, the sword is given to a ruler.  And while I love Nathaniel Garro, he is not king.  And secondly, Excalibur just comes with a little too much baggage, if that makes sense.  

Luckily, Arthurian legend is full of nothing but swords, and this is where we find a perfect candidate, or as near to one as we are going to get.  

In Arthurian legend, there is a knight called Balin.  He is one of Arthur’s knights, but he is not a knight of the round table--that hadn’t been established yet.  Balin is a young knight in Arthur’s court when a maiden enters with a sword she says can only be drawn by the worthy.  Balin draws the sword, but when he refuses to give it back, the maiden curses it to “slay with the sword the best friend that ye have, and the man that ye most love in the world, and the sword shall be your destruction”.  This leads to a series of adventures (most of which end in tragedy--it is Arthurian legend after all), all of which culminate in him fighting his brother to the death. 

The catch is, he doesn’t know it’s his brother.  His brother, Balan, is currently serving as the Knight of the Fountain, which means he is wearing different armor and not carrying his usual device on his shield.  Balin also is not wearing his usual device, having just traded his shield for another.  So, unknowingly, the two brothers fight and mortally wound each other and thus Balin fulfills the curse by killing his brother with the sword--and, the sword becomes marked as a kin-slayer. 

After the fight, Merlin takes the sword, sets it in a new hilt, and places the blade in a marble plinth which he sets to float on the river.  “This is the cause, said Merlin: there shall never man handle this sword but the best knight of the world, and that shall be Sir Launcelot or else Galahad his son, and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that in the world he loved best, that shall be Sir Gawaine. All this he let write in the pommel of the sword.” 

Years later, the sword is spotted by Arthur and his knights before the feast of Pentecost.  The inscription on the blade reads “Never shall man take me hence, but only he by whose side I ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world.”  Arthur asks Lancelot to draw it, but he refuses, saying that it is clearly not a sword meant for him, and also that “who that assayeth to take the sword and faileth of it, he shall receive a wound by that sword that he shall not be whole long after.”  

Okay, now, remember Kibre?  He tries to draw the sword from the stone, but fails, and shortly thereafter, he is killed by Libertas when drawn by Garro, it’s true wielder.  This fulfills the points of the curse--when an unworthy man tries to draw the sword, he will, after, be wounded by it.  Excalibur (or the sword in the stone), is attempted to be drawn by many hands.  And none of those people are killed by it.  (Okay, so maybe some are.  But only because they fought against Arthur, and not because of a curse).  

Arthur then asks Gawain to draw the sword, and Gawain attempts but fails, as does Percival.  Not long after that, Galahad, Lancelot’s son, is brought to court.  He proves his worth by sitting in Siege Perilous, which is the seat at the Round Table which could only be filled by the greatest Knight in the realm.  In some versions, when the seat is filled, it heralds the end of Arthur’s realm and the splintering of the Round Table. In Malory and Vulgate, while it’s not specifically stated as being prophecy, after Galahad sits, the Grail Quest is commenced, and the Round Table is never filled again, and after achieving the Grail, Arthur’s reign does begin its downfall and its descent into blood feud and civil war.  In a way, Galahad’s arrival is the beginning of the end for Camelot. 

Anyway, after he arrives in Camelot, Galahad goes down to the river and draws the sword (sometimes known as the The Sword of the Red Hilt).  Shortly thereafter, the quest for the Grail begins, and of course, Galahad is the only one to achieve the quest through his purity, piety, and strength of will and character.  

Back to the curse--if someone unworthy attempts to draw the sword, they will be killed by it.  BUT, also remember that time when Garro tried to murder an Imperial Fist and didn’t (or couldn’t)?  After starting on the Grail quest, Galahad comes upon two knights in unknown armor--and he himself is also disguised.  One of the knights is his father, whom he overthrows with a lance, but the other knight is Percival--who also tried to draw the sword.  With Percival, Galahad has to resort to using his sword, and he does wound Percival, thus fulfilling the prophecy again.  However, he doesn’t kill him because at the last minute the sword “swerves”, sparing Percival’s life.  “And then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir Percivale, and smote him so on the helm, that it rove to the coif of steel; and had not the sword swerved Sir Percivale had been slain, and with the stroke he fell out of his saddle”.  Sound familiar?  Like perhaps the sword has something of a will, and will not slay a beloved brother in unknown guise?  Especially a brother who is doing the work of God--or the Emperor?  (Percival did almost achieve the Grail after all, and was with Galahad until the end).   

After his death, the sword goes to Lancelot, who eventually uses it to mortally wound Gawain--who originally tried to draw the sword first--after the sundering of the round table--again, fulfilling the curse.  Falkus Kibre anyone?  (Which, I know we are focusing on Garro/Galahad parallels, but the point is that it is not the wielder who fulfills the curse, but the sword itself. ) 

And not that Garro is Galahad (although they both start with G, so take that as you will).  But, Galahad does sit at Siege Perilous, which is a seat that can only be occupied by the most worthy knight.  Garro is a Battle-Captain, which is an old, symbolic rank, that no one else in the Legion occupies.  And Garro is there at the beginning of the end--some might say he is the cause of it, when he witnesses the attack on Isstvan and brings the news to Dorn--but he also fulfills the quest that no one else can by bringing the news early and giving Dorn some time to prepare.    

So this is my theory.  The blade of Libertas is the sword of the Red Hilt, Galahad’s sword.  The hilt is replaced many times--the blade is what matters.  It retains the original prophecy and curse--that it may only be drawn/wielded by the worthy, and that anyone who attempts to draw it will be killed.  It also retains an element of will or memory--it began as a kin-slayer unknowing, and thereafter, its will allows it to turn aside when brought to wield against unknown brothers fighting in the service of God (or the Emperor BBA).  It is wielded by a true and honorable knight, one who follows a path of truth, righteousness, and reconciliation, a true knight of the realm, who lives to serve his king and God (and also one who saves a not insignificant number of maidens…) 

[midnightprelude]

Innocence Maintained aka Welcome to the Ariverse

A glorious stroke of madness, it could be called nothing else, led me to write a little story based upon @lethendralis-paints's gorgeous painting of her Hawke family and her OC descriptions. Nearly screaming with anxiety, I sent it off to her, not knowing what she would think. We'd spoken before, but not extensively. I don't think either of us knew what we were in for.

A few thousand words and strokes of digital art later, we give to you the first taste of what we've lovingly dubbed the Ariverse, which is essentially anything and everything revolving around our beloved Ariadna Hawke, her parents, and their extended family.

This was the beginning of our friendship and we are delighted to share its first steps with the online world.

Eris and Ariadna are pure Lethendralis, as is the beautiful accompanying artwork. Words are mine, such as they are. We welcome you to the fluffy world of Ariadna Hawke and the many people who fall in love with the sweet angel baby.

Read more below or on AO3.

Fenris had originally planned to look around for herbs and spices. Eris had sent him on a mission to increase their stocks. He had found a patch of elfroot and some embrium. Eventually, the shade underneath a willow had become too tempting and in short order he found himself on the ground, leaning his silver hair upon its trunk. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he unclasped his sheath from his back, resting his greatsword in the shadows adjacent to him. Stretching his legs before him, he removed his cloak, using it as a pillow to create a barrier between his head and the hard wood beneath. He had not realized how tired he was. He allowed his eyelids to close heavily, sighing at the moment of peace.

I am far too old to be getting this little sleep.

He chuckled. He did not, in fact, actually know how old he was. His body had barely begun to register signs of aging. Smile lines were just beginning to show near his eyes, which he attributed to entirely too much time with Eris. The woman had changed him, slowly at first, and then incredibly rapidly. It had taken time, but his friendship with her had eventually blossomed into something more. He had never entirely thought he had deserved her kindness, but she gave it so freely. Not just to him. She loved everyone she met and would often drag the whole lot of them along to fight to the death for a friend she had met the day before.

I should be grateful, given how that was precisely how we met.

Eris Hawke was exactly the balm his soul had needed. He had never had the opportunity to trust another person before meeting her. He was running, searching, hiding, killing. Friendless, he had loved no one before Eris. At least had no memory of it, which was as close to not having it to make no difference. She pulled him along on his adventures and soon he became intrinsically woven into the family she had created—Varric with his unending japes, Isabella with her incessant flirting, Merrill with her wide eyes, Aveline with her stern glanced, Anders with his righteous anger. He found himself loving them all in turn, even when they could not be more different from himself.

Eris found a group of random, dissimilar strangers and from them built a home. Such was her nature.

He was the luckiest of all of them—she had chosen to make a slightly different home with him. They had moved further south than he had ever found himself prior, into the wilds of Ferelden. Nearly back to the home she had fled before their meeting.

They had decided to create a home for themselves, away from Kirkwall. They could not stay—not with Hawke’s unfortunate involvement in Anders’s plot to start the rebellion. They were too well-known in the Marches. The marks on his skin made him an easy target for captors and Hawke’s face was plastered across the cities. No, Ferelden was safer. Even with the rebellion boiling over into the surrounding areas. He was no stranger to fighting for what was his. But now, he had other people to consider.

The thought had barely registered before he was accosted by something small landing on his stomach.

“Papa! I found you!”

He started, reaching across for his sword, pushing it out of her reach.

Yes, he had others to consider now. Eris could handle herself in a fight. She wasn’t his true weakness.

This little one is.

He scooped up Ariadna Hawke into his arms, nuzzling her chubby cheeks against his own. She was nearly four years old and more trouble than she had a right to be. Always sneaking off and nearly giving her mother a heart attack. It was a daily occurrence in the Hawke house.

“Sweetling, were you not supposed to be learning your letters with your mother?”

The girl laughed, her cheeks rosy and smile easy. She had known nothing but love and it showed in her every movement.

“Maman had fallen asleep against the book and I haven’t been outside all day. And I didn’t know where you were! Were you playing a game?” He laughed at her, kissing her head. “Yes, and that game was supposed to be finding some peace and quiet.”

She held her pudgy little hands together, grinning. “Oh, we can look together! I love finding things.”

He sighed. He could not fault her for her curiosity. She was the direct descendant of Eris Hawke, after all. Her mother couldn’t sleep if she was in the middle of reading something particularly interesting and would stay up all night trying to reach the end. He ran his hand through his hair thinking of her.

Ariadna had already moved from his lap and was pulling his sword from the sheath.

He grabbed it from her before she could cut herself. His voice was uncharacteristically stern with her. “Ari, what have we said about that? Are you supposed to touch my sword?”

The girl looked suddenly ashamed, her eyes suddenly growing interested in the leaves coating the ground.

“Ari… I did ask you a question…”

She sighed, huffing. “I know, papa. I just want to be able to protect you.”

He laughed at the thought of his tiny child brandishing his sword against intruders. She was less than a third of its size at her current height. “Ariadna, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what maman said…”

His ears twitched, cocking his head in surprise. “What exactly did your mother say?”

She frowned, shuffling back to his lap. “I heard her talking to Uncle Varric… I did not hear what he said, but maman said something about Templars and… magisshions?”

He laughed. “Probably ‘magisters’, sweet.”

“Magisters. Yes, she said that between the Templars and the magisters, we would have trouble keeping you safe.”

He frowned. He had not thought that anyone from Tevinter would still be looking for him. Nor had he realized that the fighting was getting so close to them. He was surprised that Eris had not told him immediately. Though, she may have been waiting for the opportune time.

“Ari, perhaps it is time that you learn to protect yourself. Though, let’s not start with my sword. I’ll have something made for you that’s a bit more to your size.”

She giggled, pulling his hair. “Are you going to tell maman? She won’t be happy about it.”

He laughed. “You wouldn’t be able to keep it from her for longer than a minute, I believe. We can tell her. She’ll understand. And I’ll teach you to carry your own blade.” He grabbed her hand, which had been wandering back towards his sword. “Ari! Not mine! That has not changed.”

The little girl sighed, cuddling up to his shoulder, resting her soft brown hair against his neck. He held her there, sighing.

Yes, I am the luckiest of our companions.

He held his daughter to his chest and they both enjoyed the summer breeze blowing through the willow branches together, eventually drifting off into an easy sleep.

[emo-floof-child-writes]

The Sword of the Solstice

Chapter 7: The Curse of Loyaci.

Shoto runs out to see that man that they saw in the Ghia Forest, but he's with that man in the carriage, and a girl that Shoto hasn't seen before. She has blond hair, tied into buns on the side of her head, behind her ears. The burned man steps forward, lifting an ivory wand. “LISTEN UP!” He yells, and the villagers recoil, whimpering. “I know that the heir of Neumel has returned; have him come out, and this village will be spared.”

Shoto walks down the stone stairs, lifting his sword. “What does the Cult of Dendar want with me?” He asks. The burnt man points the ivory wand at him. “Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dabi, of the Vanguard Magic Squad, servant to Dendar the Night Serpent herself.” Shoto grunts, holding his sword to Dabi's throat. “Tell me, Snake's Servant, what is your purpose here in Reneumel? This city, nay, this village are naught anything but peaceful!”

Dabi cackles, as does the shorter girl beside him. “Dendar has plans for this place.” The girl says, with a giggle. “Hush, Himiko!” Dabi scolds, and the girl he called Himiko groans. “But I want to see this world turn red, and then ENDLESS BLACK!” She says, and Dabi groans. “We're getting to that!” Momo runs down the steps. “My lord!” She yells, pulling her greatsword out.

“Lady Momo, I can handle these two. I need you to rally the paladins.” Shoto says, and Momo grimaces. “My lord, I cannot leave your side!” Shoto sighs. Must she be so fiercely loyal? He wonders. Dabi laughs. “Oh, you cannot leave his side, huh? So you would follow him into any danger?” Shoto grunts, not liking where this is going. She nods. “Even to death, so stand back, villain!”

Dabi flicks the wand at Shoto. Shoto swings his greatsword in an attempt to knock the wand out of his hand. Dabi seemed to have been expecting that, as he dodges, and purple light shoots out from the wand. “My lord!” Momo screams, as she wraps her arms around his waist, tackling him. Dabi chuckles. “My, my. How loyal can one stupid paladin be?” He turns to Himiko.

“You know what to do.” He says, she squeals. Out of her tunic she pulls a black adamantine dagger that has jagged edges. Glowing on the blade's surface is purple runes in the Dark Elvish of Loyaci. She grins, and chanting in Dark Elvish. She holds the knife to the sky, and a large mist shoots out of the knife. The mist shoots out, going into Momo's mouth and nose. She coughs, and wheezes.

“Lady Momo!” Shoto says, as she struggles to breathe. He kneels beside her, and tries to use his spell Lay On Hands to heal her, but nothing happens. “What. Did. You. Do. To. Her?” He asks, his anger growing. “It's a poisonous mist.” Himiko says, skipping in place. “It'll destroy her from the inside out. Lots of beautiful blood!” He growls. “Fix. Her. Or face the wrath of Lathander!”

Dabi sighs. “Mm, I admit that I didn't want to use this tactic, (it's too messy), but it's the only way to get what we want.” Shoto frowns. “What is that?” He asks. Dabi pokes Shoto with his wand. “We want you.” He kicks Shoto down, who looks at Momo, who's shaking her head in between coughs and wheezes. “Why me? What could you possibly want with me?” Dabi grins. “Dendar likes your family. She chose your father for her service too.”

Shoto spits on the dirt at Dabi's feet. “I won't join you.” Just then, Ochaco, Katsuki, Eijiro, and Izuku run over. “Shoto!” Izuku says, pulling his hilt of the Solstice Sword out, and presses the button to activate it. The Solstice Sword makes sparks, but doesn't shoot out its lightblade. Himiko giggles, and points her blade to sky again, threateningly. Shoto gasps, and stands. “If you don't come with us to Loyaci, I'll poison all of these people!” She says, and Shoto bites his lip. The life of one, to save the whole village... Is there a better way? Momo is dying at my feet, as I think! Lathander, forgive me. I must do this!

“My friends, please don't stop me. I am doing this for your own good.” Shoto says, bowing his head towards Himiko and Dabi. They grin. “Light Bringer! Don't you dare—!” Shoto kneels. “Do with me as you will, leave Reneumel and my friends alone.” Dabi taps the wand to Shoto's forehead. “They will not be harmed. In fact, Himiko, release the paladin girl.” She sighs. “I wanted to see her bleed...!”

Dabi glares at her, and she sighs. “Fine.” She says, releasing the poisonous spell. Shoto sighs, as he sees her breathe normally. Ochaco helps her to her feet. “My-my lord...” She says, panting. “You cannot join them.” Shoto sighs. “Lady Momo, I leave for the good of my fallen kingdom. I must protect albeit small kingdom with every fiber in me. I ask only that you continue to care for it in my stead.”

Dabi grabs Shoto shoulder, and without another word, Shoto, Dabi, and Himiko disappear. Momo screams. “I have failed you yet again, my lord and Prince Shoto.” She bows her head in shame. Ochaco nods. “We don't even know where they went. We'll never find them...” Katsuki grunts. “Enough of that defeatist talk!” He roars, the ground shaking as he speaks. Momo and Ochaco jump.

Izuku frowns. “Well, what can we do?” He asks. Eijiro frowns, and shrugs. Katsuki groans. “Oh, come on! Surely I wasn’t the only one who heard what they said?” Everyone gives him blank looks. Katsuki laughs. “Wow! And you call me an idiot! They literally said where they were going!” Izuku gasps. “The girl, they said they were going to Loyaci!” He says, and Katsuki points to Izuku.

“Okay, Deku’s not a complete idiot.” He says, folding his arms. Momo scoffs. “Did you miss the segment on how we literally can’t go there?!” She says, with frustration. “I-I mean, it’s the Dark Realm of Loyaci! No one can enter through the mist there!” Eijiro sighs, and sits down on the steps. “Well, if we can’t get in, then it’s hopeless.” Eijiro says. Katsuki growls. “When did you idiots become quitters?!”

Ochaco sighs. “It is 162 leagues south of here! It’s like 17 and a half days away! And that’s on horseback.” Ochaco says, and Momo nods. “Indeed. We’d have to go back through the Rena Passage, and down Seana Trail, over Leronee River, and then finally go to the Forbidden Road into Loyaci! It would be a useless venture!” Katsuki shakes his head. “I know a shortcut to Loyaci.”

Eijiro frowns. “You do?” Eijiro asks. Katsuki grins. “We might even beat them to Loyaci.” He says, with confidence. Izuku pulls out his map. “Are we going off the paved roads? There is no route that is quicker than the route that Momo mentioned!” Katsuki smirks. “Not if we go through Leeno.” Momo, Izuku and Ochaco groan. “Not there...” Ochaco says. Eijiro stands. “What’s wrong with this Leeno?”

Izuku sighs. “Well, I’ve never been, but I heard that it’s a human village of cannibals and murderers.” Ochaco and Momo nod. Katsuki slaps Izuku. He stumbles back, and the other three gasp. “KATSUKI!” Ochaco scolds. “That’s downright SLANDER, MY people aren’t cannibals and murderers! They are PROUD warriors! I don’t even want to know how that rumor got out.”

Ochaco blinks. “Your people? You’re a Leenoan?” She asks. He nods. “Technically I am the Chieftain’s son.” Izuku frowns. “Oh..! I’m sorry, Kacchan..! I didn’t know!” He shrugs. “I’m used to people having a repulsed reaction to my village. But really, we are sophisticated in our own way.” Ochaco giggles. “Well, if they are any thing like you, they must be dunderheads.” Katsuki grabs hold of his warhammer.

She steps behind Momo. “Easy, big guy. I was joking.” He glares at her. “You better be. You can mock me, but you don’t mock my village.” Ochaco whimpers. “Noted.” She squeaks out. He releases his grip on his warhammer. “Um, with that out of the way... Shouldn't we get going?” Eijiro asks, looking down at the village below. Izuku nods. “Indeed. Kacchan;” Katsuki looks at him. “If you'd vouch for Leeno Village, I believe that it is the best option for us.” Izuku says.

Katsuki chuckles. “Very well.” Momo says. “Let us retrieve our horses, and make haste. I shall get you another horse, Mr. Izuku.” Izuku nods. They head back down to the stables, where Denki Kaminari the Stable Hand is talking to a female paladin, who kisses his cheek. The party assumes that she must be his paladin wife. “Mr. Kaminari!” Momo says, walking over to them.

He turns, and sighs. “Lady Yaoyorozu...” He says, and she bows her head. “I know we have just arrived, but I'm afraid we need to go again.” She says, turning to the paladin. “Lady Kyoka, as the prince has been taken, and you are my second in command, I'm afraid I will have to ask you keep an eye out for trouble here in Reneumel.” She sighs. “Very well, Lady Yaoyorozu.” Kyoka says. Momo nods. “May the Light shine upon you.” Momo says, bowing her head.

Kyoka folds her hands. “And to you, my lady.” Denki brings out their two horses, and Momo sighs. “We'll actually need a third, Mr. Kaminari, lest Mr. Izuku walk all the way south.” Denki frowns. “Oh, a thousand pardons, my lady!” He quickly runs back to retrieve another horse. Momo mounts her horse, as Ochaco packs their provisions. Katsuki grunts as he fastens his saddle onto their horse.

Then he and Eijiro climb onto their horse. Momo looks down at Ochaco. “Are you gonna get on?” She asks. Ochaco bites her lip. “Yeah, I was just thinking about this situation... What if we don't get there in time, or worse, we can't get in Loyaci at all?” Momo sighs. “Well, all we have to do is get to the Forbidden Road before they do. We can stop them before they even enter Loyaci. That is if we make haste.”

Ochaco nods, and climbs up onto Momo's horse. Denki comes back with a black horse, with white speckles on its behind. He has saddled it, and passes the reins to Izuku. He smiles, and thanks Denki. The 5 of them ride down to the gate of the village, and Ochaco groans, but it only audible for Momo. “Is everything alright, Miss Ochaco?” She whispers, and Ochaco grits her teeth. “It's just been so many years since I ran away from Loyaci... I'm not sure I want to go back.”

Momo nods. “I understand that the past is hard to face, but avoiding it entirely is just impossible. It will come back to bite you eventually.” Ochaco's shoulders start to sag. “I know. But I don't know if I can control the Evil within me long enough to save Shoto.” Momo sighs, as they reach the Rena Passage, through the Ghia Forest. “I admit, I was shocked to see my lord with a Mage of Dendar.”

Ochaco pushes her witch hat up further her head. “Well, I never asked to be a mage, it was forced on me.” She sighs. “But alas, here we are. I've spent the last nine years trying to contain her, but still use my mage power.” Momo smiles. “It is admirable to try and fight that evil with something positive.” Ochaco nods.

Eijiro lets out a whine, and Katsuki scoffs. “Oh, right. You're a weakling.” He says. Eijiro tenses up. “My Draconic senses are saying that there is something unnatural about this place!” Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Oh, my pardons! Your ‘Draconic Senses’ think it's unnatural.” Eijiro, not picking up on Katsuki's sarcasm, nods. “That's what I said.” Katsuki groans. “You know, Scales? We'd better teach you what being sarcastic means, and how to identify it.”

Izuku rides his horse closer to Katsuki and Eijiro. “Kacchan, stop it. Pay no attention to Kacchan, Eijiro. I have heard your concern, and have noted it. I am making sure that there is no evil beings or whatever in this forest, just hang on while I determine the safety of this forest.” Eijiro nods. “Thanks, Izuku. I appreciate it.” Izuku smiles, and the Solstice Sword hums as he gets ahead of the party.

“Hark, Bearer!” Izuku glances at the sword. What is it? “There is an evil here, like your friend fearth.” Izuku frowns, but decides not to just blurt out that information. Where? Is it close? Is it the forest? Izuku asks, and Solstice vibrates. “Not that I can telleth. I thinkst there may be a trap or barrier of pure darkness around this forest. Perhaps around Reneumel.” Izuku scoffs. Yeah, where were you when Shoto was being kidnapped? Some Lathander's Lighting would've been nice! He tells the sword, with some resentment.

The sword buzzes. “I am sorry. I used mine magical energy too much all at once. Lathander's Lightning in particular taketh a long time to rechargeth.” But it's been like four days! How do you expect me to defeat Dendar when I can only use you EVERY FOUR DAYS?!

“Thou art right. I should have toldst thee that I can goeth into a slumber if mine magic isn't sufficient, for I cannot maintain mine magical blade with the power that is given unto me.” Izuku sighs. Well, I find that answer insufficient, but I suppose there's nothing I can do about that. Do you think we'll be safe exiting the forest?

“As long as thou doth not useth up mine magic before the endeth of this Forest, I thinkest that thou shalt beest fine.” Izuku swallows. I hope that whatever Eijiro and the Solstice Sword are sensing isn't gonna be so dangerous. But when have we ever been that lucky? Knowing our luck, Ochaco will turn into Dendar again, and try and take the Sword of Light from me. NO. I can't think that way. Ochaco has done a great job of keeping Dendar in check. She can handle this too...right?

[overlordbravery]

Right of Conscription

I started to play Dragon Age Origin’s again so I wanted to write my headcanon of my favorite Warden becoming a warden lmao. Small BG. Ulrich Cousland is a future Reaver, he’s a fucking mess, only recently 18 and thrown into trauma town which he doesn’t handle very well at all. He’s kind of a brat?? Warnings for: Murder, Death, Break Downs? Enjoy?

Ulrich never expected to encounter something like this.

He thought life would become better after he turned eighteen. 

He thought that he was going to be doing more things around the castle on the diplomatic side. He was good at talking people into things, he was good at talking his way out of things. He was gifted with the power of persuasion and his family knew that. Ulrich Cousland was made to be a Tyren. He would be his father’s successor as his brother stayed ready for battle. He was a diplomat, he made friends wherever he went and had sutors lined up wanting his hand since he was sixteen. 

He had only been eighteen for a week and now his entire life felt like it was over.

He expected to have fun exploring the life he would be living with his father out of the castle. Playing around, having fun, doing his usual flirtatious thing through the castle and getting himself into shenanigans and situations he would be able to talk himself out of.

Instead he stood in shock as he looked at Dairren lying dead on the floor with an arrow expertly shot through his heart. 

A man he had been pining after since they were boys playing with fake swords at parties, a man he finally had in his arms from a magical night… a man that was now dead. He could smell the blood as it pooled under the body, the sound of Ruffian barking becoming white noise as he just stood there. He could feel tears running down his face and turned his head to see the soldiers in Howe’s armor. He watched the one with a sword run at him with murder in his eyes, he found himself unable to do anything. 

His brain kept telling his body to move but he couldn’t budge, he just watched with sorrow as people he thought were his allies came and attacked him.

He flinched from the sound of the soldier’s scream, looking to the large Mabari hound that was biting into the man’s arm, piercing his armor and dragging the soldier away with such force and strength that it was honestly terrifying to see his dog do something like that. He looked to the soldier that began taking aim at his dog and his heart began pounding against his ribs as he ran at the soldier. Giving an enraged warcry as he grabbed his greatsword on the way and swung it up, cleaving through the air and cutting the sword deep into his targets body. 

He had never cut into human flesh before. He fought rats, he’s hunted animals, he’s cut through dummies. But hearing the sound of ripping and weak armor. Listening to the sound of tearing flesh that squelched as his target cried out in pain. Feeling and smelling the fear and gore, and the mess that came with it was indescribable. 

He was panting as he stood there, feeling the warmth on him he didn’t know if it was the blood of his enemy or if he pissed himself until he pulled away enough for the man to fall. He glanced down to see the blood all over him as the man moved his hands to try and pull his destroyed organs back inside of himself. Panic on his face as he stumbled back and fell to the ground crying and begging like the pathetic filth he was.

He was always told when he took a life he would feel scared, panicked, gross, something negative. But as he watched the man die from the wound he gave him, as he listened to Ruffian tear another man to shreds he found himself feeling empty. He felt void of emotions, his limbs felt numb, the blade in his hand felt heavy, and the blood that coated his naked body felt cold. He heard a door open and moved, grabbing the sword in both hands as he got into the stance he was taught only to see his mother running out of the room geared for war.

“Ulrich.” She looked at him and his arms went limp as the greatsword dropped. He felt those tears in his eyes again as his chin trembled. She looked at him with sorrow and he moved and hugged her. Feeling her pat him on the back as his body shook she eventually pushed him back. “You need to get clothes, and we need to defend our home.”

“They’re Howe’s men.” He said it through tears as he moved one hand to wipe the tears from his eyes. Choking on a sob as he moved to his room, looking to Dairren as emotions filled him in a harsh wave that had him feeling sick to his stomach. He dropped his sword and stumbled off to the side of his chamber where he began to throw up in the corner, choking on stomach acid and bile as he moved one hand to the wall. The other slowly moving to wipe his mouth off, he could hear his mother and he slowly stood up straight.

“We need to hurry, Pup. Do you know where your father is?” She asked in worry and he slowly looked over towards her with tears brimming in his eyes. He shook his head while finally throwing on clothes as quickly as he could.

“No… no I haven’t seen him since saying goodbye to Fergus--” They both looked at each other with wide eyes and he watched his mother took off in a run across the hall. He grabbed his sword and quickly followed after, watching her throw the door open to see Oriana and Oren dead on the floor. Oriana laying over Oren as if the two of them were cut down together. He watched his mother fall to her knees with a scream of agony and sorrow.

“They’re not even taking prisoners! Who slays innocence!?” All that pain and sorrow began warping as he stared at their dead bodies. He gripped the sword tightly in his hand as he turned his head towards the door that lead to the rest of the castle.

“I’m going to kill Howe.” Anger in his voice as he moved for the door, kicking it open with a roar of anger and rage. His eyes locked on the soldiers who were there who jumped in surprise from the entrance. “I’m going to kill all of you!” He shouted in rage as he ran forwards, a loud war cry leaving his mouth as he ran forwards and cut the archer near in half as he moved to nock an arrow. He turned to look to his next target, yanking his greatsword out of the archer he raised the sword above his head and brought it down in a heavy strike.

The blade cutting between the man’s shoulder and neck. He watched him sputter on blood and was panting, his arms shaking as he turned his head to look to the next person who was running at him, about to take a swing only for Ruffian to tackle him and tear into his face until the man moved just right for him to get his throat. He kicked the man off his sword and stumbled forwards, blade dragging across the floor as he moved forwards. Panting heavily as he looked to another archer who came through the far door only to take an arrow through the throat from his mother.

“I’ll make them all pay.” Grinding his teeth as he gave Landra’s corpse a glance from where it lay in the guest bedroom.

---

Pain… Pain triggered a primal rage within him. He stood there with his sword stabbed into the mage that burned him. Pinning her to the floor like a butterfly as he stomped on her face until she became unrecognizable mush under his shoe.

“Ulrich.” He kept stomping down on her head until he felt a cold wet nose touch his hand, he turned his head to look at Ruffian who was pressing his nose against him before giving his hand a firm lick. He moved to pet him on the head.

“I’m sorry.” He felt that rage leaving him, wincing he moved his hand to his side looking to Sir Gilmore who moved closer to them.

“You need to go, Duncan took Bryce towards the kitchen last I had seen them. We’ll hold the doors to prevent them from getting through--”

“They already got through!” Ulrich snapped turning to look at Gilmore who held a look of surprise. “They already got through, they killed… Maker they killed Dairren… and Orianna, and Oren, and Landra, and every fucking servant who lives here! Because Howe knew we would be undefended he fucking!” He moved to punch one of the stone pillars with a cry in anger and pain from how much that actually hurt.

“Ulrich.” He looked to his mother as he panted and stared at her. “We need to go.”

---

“Bryce!” He watched his mother ran to his father’s side. Looking to the mess of blood spilling all over the larder he knew that he wasn’t going to make it, he was dying as they had their sorrowful and tender moment. Declaring love for one another, he turned towards the door when he heard footsteps getting ready to attack and only pausing when he saw Duncan come in the room. Holding his hands up in surrender, showing he meant no harm, Ulrich slowly lowered his sword.

“Howe’s men have surrounded the castle.” Then they were dead. He knew it but no one seemed willing to say it, he moved finally to join his mother and father in the corner, kneeling down and looking to the wound on his father. Hand reaching out to place it on the man’s shoulder to try and offer comfort to him. “They have yet to discover this exit, we can use it but it will still be dangerous.”

“What of my father?” Ulrich asked with pins in his throat, watching the solemn silence that filled the larder he shook his head. “We can carry him.” He wanted him to come with if they were going to attempt this suicide mission anyway. Then he didn’t have to die like some sick dog in a goddamned cellar.

“I won’t make it, pup.” He hated that, that they still decided to call him his childhood nickname while they stood covered in blood. After he lost everything about his childhood so quickly… He could feel that anger again as he got up and began to pace trying to think. He had to think about this and plan how to get them all out of here. “Duncan, you owe me no favors, but please get my wife and son out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Ulrich said it but it seemed to go unheard through Duncan replying.

“I must ask something of you in return. You know I came here seeking a recruit.” Ulrich could feel their eyes on him and he gripped the handle of his greatsword while looking between them. There was no way they were talking about him… “Your son has more than proven himself, fighting through Howe’s men to get here. It feels like it’s meant to be--”

“Don’t.” He said it soft looking between them.

“I… I understand…”

“I didn’t kill people to be a Grey Warden.” His voice trembled as they had the audacity to ignore him while talking about his future. 

“You have my blessing.” Ulrich felt the anger and sorrow spike as he stepped forwards and shook his head.

“No!” He shouted it getting a look of surprise from his father. “I am not leaving you! I am not going to turn my back on my home to go be this asshole’s squire!” He shouted while pointing at Duncan. “I am a Cousland, this is my home, you are my family!”

“You needn’t die here, Ulrich!” He looked to his mother in surprise from where she sat with his father. Holding him and his wound to try and help him live just a little longer. He swallowed back his own tears and shook his head. “You can find your brother in Ostagar.”

“Please don’t do this to me, don’t--”

“Ulrich, I understand how you must be feeling--” He slapped Duncan’s hand away when the man tried to touch him.

“Don’t you dare try to tell me you understand how I feel!” Ulrich shouted at him watching how Duncan stood up straight with a soft sigh. Tears were streaming down Ulrich’s face as he began trembling from exhaustion and stress and trauma. “You have no idea how I feel!”

“Please, for me.” He looked to his dying father, seeing the color draining from him. He could see how tired and exhausted he looked, Ulrich turned to look towards the door of the Larder. Taking a stance to protect them as he got ready for whoever was coming.

“I am staying here. And I am protecting you until my dying breath.” He said the words firmly even though he felt anything but. He felt like he lost that, he didn’t feel like he had much fight in him, he felt like he had been fighting for days despite it not even being half an hour since he watched Dairren die right in front of him. “I’m not losing any more people I care about.”

“You have left me no choice but to invoke the Right of Conscription.” Ulrich gasped when Duncan picked him up around the waist, easily adjusting him to his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!” Ulrich kicked his feet as the man began heading to the secret exit. The man paused and Ulrich looked from him towards his family.

“I love you so much.” Their words felt so final, and he could feel those tears in his eyes as he struggled on Duncan’s shoulder.

“No! Wait! Mom! Dad!” He reached a hand out for them as Duncan carried him down the secret exit. Ruffian whining as he followed after them. Ulrich felt empty as he stared out behind them, knowing his parents were dying. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He used his free hand to fist the back of Duncan’s shirt as he heard the sounds of his parents dying, he cried heavily. Losing every bit of composure he had left as he pressed his face into Duncan’s back. Openly sobbing as Duncan picked up the pace to make sure to put enough distance between them.

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #6: Siegfried

Next on our quest to fully dndify all of Fate is Siegfried, the original saber spook. Siegy’s known for being really hard to kill, having questionably draconic origins, and summoning massive quantities of gacha salt. His build’s spreadsheet can be found here, with details below the cut.

Race and Background

There’s been fan theories about what Siegfried exactly is floating around, but we’re going to play it safe and call him a Variant Human, giving him +1 in Strength and Constitution. For his bonus feat, Siegfried’s going to be Resilient, giving him +1 to Strength and proficiency in strength saves. Despite technically being nobility, Siegfried’s personality better fits the Folk Hero background, giving proficiency in Animal Handling and Survival.

Stats

For stats, we’re using the standard array for numbers, but feel free to roll if you want. Start with Constitution. Your claim to fame is your invulnerability, after all. (Weirdly enough this doesn’t affect your AC in any way. Sorry about that.)

Put your second highest roll into Dexterity. You’re more known for your strength, but we need to actually work on your AC too.

After that is Charisma. You don’t show up that much in Apocrypha or FGO, but you’ve still stolen our hearts. And yours. Also, we need it for multiclassing.

Your Strength is a little low, but we’ll bump it up over time with ASI, sorry about the first couple levels.

Second to last is Intelligence. I don’t know how smart you really are, but we just needed those points elsewhere.

Finally, dump Wisdom. To be blunt, you were kind of a doormat your entire life, and being turned into a meme of yourself didn’t help that.

Class Levels

1. Sorcerer 1: Starting off as a sorcerer, you gain your Sorcerous Origin, a.k.a. being/bathing in a dragon. Your Draconic Ancestor, the black dragon Fafnir, lets you double your proficiency in charisma checks against dragons. You also have Draconic Resilience, giving you a slight increase to your HP and an unarmored AC of 13 + your Dex modifier. Right now, that equals 15. Those are rookie numbers.  You also get proficiency in Constitution and Charisma Saves, Insight, and Intimidation.

Finally, as a Sorceror, you gain some Spells and Cantrips. You gain Acid Splash, to give your fighting a little bit of Fafnir flavor, Light, because this was as close as I could get to your Noble Phantasm (sorry.), as well as Blade Ward, True Strike, Expedited Retreat, and Jump. You’re not really a mage, so the spells you do get will mostly focus on enhancing your physical abilities.

2. Fighter 1: Now that your sorcery is established, we’re going to take a shortcut so you can work up your muscles before diving back into magic. As a first level fighter, you get a fighting style, Great Weapon Fighting, letting you reroll 1s and 2s on damage rolls for two handed weapons, as well as your Second wind, letting you use a bonus action to regain some health during a fight. You’re invincible, but it’s the thought that counts.

3. Fighter 2: At second level, you gain an Action Surge, wherein you can make another action in a single turn, once per long rest.

4. Fighter 3: As a third level fighter you become a people’s Champion, granting you Improved Criticals when you roll a 19 or 20 on attacks.

5. Fighter 4: Grab that Ability Score Improvement and grab the Slasher feat to round out your Strength, and make Balmung a bit scarier to fight. Once per turn, you can reduce the speed of a creature you hit with slashing damage by 10′, and when you score a critical hit with a slashing weapon, the target has disadvantage on all attack rolls.

6. Fighter 5: You get an Extra Attack. Now you have doubled attacks to go with your doubled critical chance, go you.

7. Fighter 6: Put that Ability Score Improvement into Dexterity to improve your AC.

8. Sorcerer 2: Now that you have a hold in a class you’re good at, let’s head back to Sorcerer for some extra goodies. First up is your Font of Magic; now you get sorcery points that for the time being can only be burned to make more spell slots. You also get a new spell; grab Shield, because you’re clearly not unkillable enough yet.

9. Sorcerer 3: This level you get Metamagic options. Grab Extended Spell to boost the duration of your buffs and Quickened Spell so you can apply them in a pinch if you need to. Speaking of buffs, grab Enhance Ability so you can be pretty good at anything you do, like the unspecific protagonist you are.

10. Sorcerer 4: Another Ability Score Improvement, another 2 points to Strength. Now you’re getting somewhere with that sword! Just make sure nobody notices your big leaf-shaped weak point. To help with that, get Invisibility this level. You didn’t know you had an invisibility cloak? Check your biography sometime. Grab Booming Blade for the hell of it too.

11. Sorcerer 5: Not much happens this level, but you get Haste. It doubles your speed, adds 2 to your AC, grants advantage to dex saves, and gives you an extra action each turn. After it ends you  can’t move or take actions for a turn, but a minute is forever in three-attacks-per-turn time, so I’m sure you’ll be fine.

12. Sorcerer 6: This level you get an Elemental Affinity, letting you add your charisma modifier to any spell attack that deals acidic damage, as well as spend a sorcery point to gain resistance to acid damage for an hour. Not generally useful, but it will help against Fafnir when he shows up again. Also, grab Dispel Magic for your last spell. You may argue that Siegfried doesn’t have any anti-magic effects, and to that I say you’re wrong. His heart was keeping him alive and he ended that real quick.

13. Fighter 7: Back in fightland you become a Remarkable Athlete; now you can add half your proficiency bonus to any physical skill check, and running long jumps are boosted by your strength modifier.

14. Fighter 8: Speaking of your Dexterity modifier, give it a boost with this Ability Score Improvement. This brings your AC up to 17, as good or better than most forms of armor.

15. Fighter 9: You become Indomitable, letting you reroll a failed save once per long rest.

16. Fighter 10: You get another Fighting Style. You’ve already got your greatsword skills, so feel free to pick whatever one fits your current situation best.

17. Fighter 11: You get a second Extra Attack each turn, because it turns out dragon heads can really be stuck on there sometimes.

18. Fighter 12: Stick this Ability Score Improvement into Strength for even more damage per turn. We might as well round out Charisma while we’re here too, right? Sorry it’s so late.

19. Fighter 13: You gain a second use of Indomitable per day, making you even more of the solid steel saber you’re known for being.

20 Fighter 14: Use your last Ability Score Improvement to get the Tough feat, adding an extra 40 hp just to seal the deal.

Pros: You’re an absolute slab of beef, with solid damage each turn, high AC and HP, and ways to raise your AC even higher or give yourself resistances to several types of damage. You also have a lot of movement options to get the drop on those who underestimate you.

Cons: You have almost zero ranged or magical attacks, so several high-level enemies will give you trouble. You also have low Wisdom, so expect to get charmed a lot. Sorry. One thing I wish I could have added to this build was his sword beam, but that’s part of the sword itself, so we can count that off as a technicality. You’ll just have to get that as a magical item.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Four: War (Gladiolus x Reader) Chapter Sixteen

The day of the rite arrived. (Y/n) stood atop one of the many buildings near Yureil Plaza. Noctis was among crowd gathered, listening to Lady Lunafreya's speech. Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis were assisting Death, Famine, and Pestilence in evacuating the citizens of Altissia. War wanted to help, but her sisters advised her to watch over the plaza in case the dullahan made its presence known.

Soon, the Horseman's gaze was turned to the sky when the low humming of engines could be heard. She glared up at the imperial dreadnoughts as they soared above her head. Her fingers twitched, itching to destroy the airships. She held herself back, knowing an attack on the airships would cause widespread panic.

When the speech ended and Lunafreya headed to the altar, (Y/n) watched the citizens disperse. She remained where she was until imperial forces poured from the dreadnoughts and into the streets of Altissia. She took it upon herself to annihilate any imperial troopers she came across.

Summoning her crimson-bladed sword, War jumped down from her perch and charged into the streets. She cut down a few imperial troopers who were threatening a crowd of people and preventing them from escaping. Once the enemies were defeated, she escorted them to the docks. She repeated this process a few more times and wound up guiding a large group of people to the docks. She helped them board a boat and ensured they set sail without any issues.

Just as another boat left the docks, (Y/n) heard a familiar roar. Spinning around, she saw the Tidemother looming in the distance. The sky slowly becomes engulfed with dreary storm clouds and a light drizzle rains upon the city. More imperial dreadnoughts flew in the direction of the Astral. She held out her hand towards the airships and shot them done with a few fireballs. However, she wasn't able to shoot them all out of the sky.

All of a sudden, War's body tensed as the odor of the dullahan reaches her nose. She ran off, eyes scanning the streets in search of the monster. The scent grew stronger as she ran in the direction of the altar, but she came across Prompto and Gladio fighting against a large horde of imperial troopers. They were holding their own but were quickly being surrounded.

Tossing her blade, (Y/n) pierced a single soldier in the back and warped. Her body disappeared and reappeared in a flash of crimson shards. Killing the enemy, she yanked her sword from the soldier's body. Her sword vanished and was replaced by six javelins. The weapons appeared around her before she raised her hand. The javelins followed her movements and surged forward. One by one, the javelins pierced several magiteks and imperial troopers. In seconds, all the adversaries surrounding the two boys were dead. She dispelled her weapons with a sigh.

"Thanks for the save, (Y/n)," Prompto expresses his gratitude.

"Glad I made it in time," she said. "Where's Ignis?"

"We were separated, but Pestilence is with him," Gladio explained. "How's it going on your end?"

"I was in the middle of hunting down the dullahan when I stumbled upon you two. With the city evacuated, there's only four possible targets the dullahan will pursue."

"You don't mean..." Prompto swallowed fearfully.

"You two, Ignis, and Noctis are the only possible targets. I doubt it'll go after any of the imperial troopers since the high commander made a deal with the damned thing. But I've a feeling its main target will be Noctis."

"Th-Then we gotta head to the altar!"

"Then let's get moving."

Prompto, Gladio, and (Y/n) ran through the streets of Altissia towards the altar. They could see the extent of Leviathan's destruction the closer they got to the altar. It also became difficult to find a path leading forward due to the collapsed buildings.

They eventually came across the remains of a bridge. It was blown apart, but there was a narrow path that remained intact from whatever destroyed it. Gladio went first followed by Prompto. When they both were safe on the other side, War was the next to cross. She carefully put one foot in front of the other, keeping her balance as she crossed. The light drizzle made the polished stone a little slippery, but she remained steady on her feet.

Halfway across, (Y/n) froze when the smell of rotting flesh suddenly became much stronger. She frantically looked around in search of the dullahan. Gladio, unable to smell the monster's presence, shouted at her. "What's the hold up?"

Before she could answer, a black puddle of sludge manifested behind Prompto and Gladio. She watched in horror as the dullahan emerges from the inky substance. Throwing caution to the wind, she summoned a dagger and tossed it between the two boys. It pierced the shadowy horse, causing it to rear up and neigh in pain.

Prompto and Gladio immediately turn around to face the monster. The shield didn't hesitate to summon his greatsword and stand his ground against the dullahan. Prompto, although frightened by the horrid creature, conjured his pistol and aimed at it.

(Y/n) threw a second dagger, warping to stand between them and the dullahan. She switched out the dagger for her sword, slashing at the creature and forcing it to back away. Once it put distance between it and the trio, the Horseman addressed her companions. "You two head to the altar. Noctis' safety is top priority."

Prompto nodded. "Right!"

"Think you can handle this, firecracker?" Gladio asked with his signature smirk.

She grinned back at him. "Who do you think you're talking to? You're not the only one who's grown stronger." Gladio and Prompto left, leaving the Horseman to deal with the dullahan. War gave the creature her full attention. "So tell me, did you really make a deal with the empire?"

The dullahan was silent for a few seconds before his demonic, distorted voice echoed out. "Yes. My head...for the prince..."

The redhead was slightly taken aback at its response. She knew the dullahan was able to speak due to its high intelligence, but she didn't expect it to actually answer her question. "So those bastards really do have your head..." She then pointed the tip of her sword at the creature. "Sorry, but there's no way in hell I'll let you kill Noctis."

The monster didn't reply. It only cracked its spine whip against the ground before digging its heels into the sides of its steed. It rode directly towards her and used its whip to grab the girl. Unfortunately, she easily slashed at the whip and deflected it before it could wrap around her torso. She then sidestepped in time to avoid the horse barreling towards her. She swiped at the shadow animal, nicking it in the thigh. It neighed and attempted to kick her.

Dodging again, War summoned a dagger in her free hand and jammed it into the horse's thigh. It bucked widely and wound up knocking its rider off. Using her sword, she stabbed the horse in the head and killed it. Its body discorporated into an inky puddle before evaporating. It would take days for the dullahan to recover its steed, which meant it couldn't flee so easily.

(Y/n) smirked at the monster as it pushed itself off the ground. "Looks like you'll be steed-less for a while."

The dullahan released a demonic howl. It twirled its whip above its head, creating a powerful vortex. The girl winced from feeling the powerful winds drag her body towards the creature. She stabbed her sword into the ground, anchoring herself. Thinking of a way to stop the vortex from consuming her, one idea came to mind. She conjured a pistol from her vast arsenal and aimed at the hand the dullahan was using to spin the whip. Holding her breath to steady her aim, she pulled the trigger.

The headless horseman hissed in pain as its hand was blown to smithereens. The vortex faded and its whip fell to the ground. (Y/n), once the winds died down, pulled her sword from the ground and charged at the creature. Setting her sights on its chest, she ran as fast as she could towards it. What nearly causes her to stumble was witnessing the dullahan grab its whip and run away. She blinked in shock, ceasing her approach. Pushing the feeling aside, she pursued it through the destroyed streets of Altissia.

The light drizzle soon turned into a downpour. Panting, the Horseman continued to chase after the dullahan. She jumped over piles of debris and slid under bent streetlights. She splashed through puddles, drenching herself further. She didn't know how long she was running or where they were in Altissia. Her eyes were focused on the monster's back, the passing scenery going unnoticed.

The dullahan plowed through one of the gondolas that had washed ashore due to Leviathan's rage. She followed it through the path it created and found herself in a part of the city with crumbled buildings lining the waterway. The vast courtyard in the center had a destroyed fountain. There was plenty of room to allow movement even with the debris from the destroyed buildings littering the ground.

(Y/n) switched from her sword to twin daggers the moment the dullahan's hand regenerated. She carefully paced around it, her daggers at the ready. She didn't want to leap in for an attack and only be impaled by its whip. However, she froze when it twirled around its whip and it transformed into a sword. She couldn't deny that she wasn't impressed since this was the first time the dullahan was going to use another weapon besides its whip.

Closing the distance between her and the monster, War surged forward. She was determined to hold it off long enough for Noctis to earn Leviathan's favor. Her daggers clashed with its sword over and over again. She managed to push it back and force it to remain on the defense for what felt like hours. Because of her attention being focused on the dullahan, she failed to detect the imperial ship above until it was too late. A ripping pain in her chest caused her to shriek out in pain and stumble. Her daggers fell from her hands, allowing the monster to attack. He drove his blade into her gut, causing another screech of pain to escape her throat.

(Y/n) fell to the ground, her vision blurry from the bullet wound and gaping hole in her abdomen. She managed a weak glare as she spotted the imperial dreadnought hovering a few yards away. An auburn-haired man who she recognized as Ardyn exited the airship and sauntered over with a pleased smile. She coughed up blood as she attempted to curse him. "D-Damn you..."

"'Tis not ladylike to spew such horrid words," Ardyn states.

"Go...to Hell..."

He chuckled in amusement. "Now, now. There will be time for that later. As of now, I fear I've other matters to tend to." He looked over at the dullahan, bowing slightly. "As promised, you shall claim your reward."

War coughed up more blood, trying to figure out what the chancellor meant. "R-Reward...?"

He smiled maniacally down at her. "You, my dear. I've shown this abomination just how to claim you as its own."

"Th-Then you're...the one..."

Ardyn nodded his head, knowing exactly what she was going to ask. "Indeed, I am in possession of its head."

(Y/n) struggles to fight against the pain. She managed to summon an array of swords, javelins, and daggers, but each one clattered to the ground when another blood-filled coughing fit erupted from her throat. Her attention was drawn to the dullahan when hearing its battle cry. She watched in horror as its armor retracted and revealed the black, fleshy body hidden underneath. Using its sword, it cut open its flesh with a demonic howl. The Horseman couldn't understand what it was doing even as it approached her.

Unable to move, (Y/n) gritted her teeth the moment the creature's foul hands grabbed her. She strangled out a gasp when feeling its rotten flesh begin to engulf her body. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. The last thing she saw before falling unconscious was Ardyn's wicked smile.

<-------------<<<<<

A couple days after the rite, Altissia was in ruins. Only certain parts of the city remained intact from Leviathan's wrath. Lunafreya was dead and Noctis and Ignis were both unconscious. Gladio and Prompto were waiting for their friends to regain consciousness.

However, they weren't just worried about the prince and his advisor. Neither of them had seen any sign of the Four Horsemen since after the rite. Gladio tried numerous of times to summon (Y/n), but she didn't heed his call. They were wondering where the immortal sisters were and if they were safe.

After a few hours of trying to distract themselves with cards, Gladio and Prompto were soon visited by a familiar golden-haired Horseman. The marksman flew to his feet, dropping his cards in the process as he hastily made his way over to Famine. "A-Are you okay?"

She smiled at him. "I'm fine, but..." Her smile fell when meeting Gladio's stone gaze. "We can't find War anywhere."

The shield's eyes narrowed. "Have you really checked everywhere?"

Prompto heard the anger in the brute's tone. "Can you not talk to her like that?"

Gladio tossed his cards down, some scattering across the floor. He didn't even bother to answer the blonde's question. "I'm going out."

Famine sighed as she watched the man leave. "Let's go with him. I haven't given up just yet."

The sharpshooter nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Let's go."

They followed Gladio out of the hotel and through the ruined streets of Altissia. Watching the shield, they could tell just how much worry he was carrying on his shoulders for Noctis, Ignis, and (Y/n).

The trio searched the alleyways and near the waterways for any signs of War. They scavenged through piles of debris to see if she's been buried underneath one.

Their search lasted for nearly four hours before they found an inkling as to where she might be. They followed the clues and they led them to a vast courtyard. There, they found blood splatters near the crumbling fountain.

Famine didn't react until she saw a familiar crimson-bladed sword wedged into the ground. She ran over to the weapon and couldn't understand why (Y/n) would leave her favorite sword behind. She dislodged it from the ground, examining it closer. "Why is this here...?"

"You don't think she was...?" Prompto couldn't finish his question.

"No way in hell she's dead," Gladio hissed.

"Gladio's right," Famine said. "If she was, my sisters and I would know. We are connected, after all."

"Can't you track her or somethin'?"

She shook her head with a sorrowful frown. "I'm afraid not. I'm sorry, Gladio."

"Useless," he growled.

Prompto wouldn't stand by and let the shield talk to Famine in such a manner. "Hey, she's not useless! Stop treating her like-!"

The emerald-eyed girl placed a hand on the blonde's arm. "It's okay, Prompto. I know why he's acting this way and I don't blame him..."

"B-But still..."

"Don't worry about it," she smiled. Then, she held out the blade to the shield. "Please, take her sword, Gladio."

Without arguing or snapping back at the Horseman, Gladio took the sword. When he felt how heavy it was, he couldn't believe (Y/n) was able to swing it around with ease at such high speeds. "Damn, thought this thing was lighter."

"Let's keep looking around."

The trio looked around the destroyed fountain and buildings. Besides the blood and the sword, they had yet to find anything else.

Another hour passes before Famine was able to locate a third clue. She picked up a hat, shaking off the small pieces of debris. "Maybe an evacuee dropped it."

"Dropped what?" Prompto came bounding over.

She showed him the hat. "Found this hat under some debris. It's kinda old-fashion now that I think about it."

Gladio overheard their conversation and joined them. He looked at the hat in the girl's possession. His eyes narrowed in a sharp glare. Prompto also realized who the hat belongs to. "Wait, isn't that Ardyn's hat?"

"Who's Ardyn?" Famine inquired.

"The imperial chancellor," Gladio clarified. "Damn bastard probably has somethin' to do with (Y/n)'s disappearance."

The girl turned the hat over in confusion. "All of us were in Altissia. Why go after only War?"

"The empire has their hands on one Crystal already. I wouldn't put it past them if they wanted to control the Vanaheim Crystal too."

"But wouldn't they have to go to the bottom of the ocean to do that?" Prompto asked.

A grave expression appeared on Famine's face. "War is able to directly control the Crystal because of the shard embedded in her body. If someone were to remove it and place it in their own body, they just might be able to control the Vanaheim Crystal."

"Might?" The marksman reiterated.

"Vanaheim's Crystal, just like Lucis' Crystal, can only be wielded by one of royal blood. If anybody else attempted to use it, they risk corruption." She used a weak fire spell and burnt the hat to a crisp. "Now that we know the empire has War, we know what to do next. I'll tell Death and Pestilence of our discovery. You two should head back to the hotel to check on your friends."

"You three aren't planning on taking on the empire by yourselves, are you?" Gladio asked.

"There's no way the three of us could storm Gralea and search for War ourselves, especially with the dullahan still on the loose."

"Then what will we do?" Prompto questioned.

"Wait for Noct and Iggy to come around," the shield stated. "Until then, we can't leave Altissia."

"War may not have time. Who knows what the empire will do to her. Pestilence, Death, and myself will go on ahead," Famine explained. "Goodbye for now, Prompto, Gladio."

The two boys watch her vanish before turning around and heading back to the hotel.

[cerberus253]

*Finger Guns* Eeeeyyyy, Romantic Sulyvahn Headcannons, Anyone???

    I’m aware that Sulyvahn wouldn’t give two shits about anyone romantically, but hey, that’s the beauty of fanfiction. Here’s the long-ass headcannons of being with Sulyvahn romantically.

    Sulyvahn doesn’t care about anyone, especially their emotions. He wants one thing and one thing only: To be at the top. To do that, he’s gotta be a stone cold asshole to do so. Even though he was surrounded by forlorn people in the Painted World, he could not empathize, and really didn’t seem to care about them. Could it be someone didn’t love him enough when he was little? And with that, he never learned to care about others? Even so, just like everybody else, there is this deep, lonely hole in his heart. He ignores it or tries to fill it up with materials, success, and power, but he will never accept that there is one thing and one thing only that will fill it.

    One day, you come around and show a genuine interest in him. At first it was just intrigue from curiosity, but it turned to a(n) (unwanted) crush. You didn’t think anything could work because of how he appeared to be, but you still expressed some liking by always being excited to see him, saying a big ol’ “Hello!” to him every day, looking at him with that gleam of interest and happiness in your eyes, giving him snacks and treats when he’s working, and always accepting to serve him with even the most mundane things. (Just a quick jot down, you sometimes referred to him as Mr. Pontiff, Mr. Pontiff Sulyvahn, or Mr. Pontiff Man when you felt extra in to it that day).

Every now and again you try to small talk with him, and at first it was fruitless; he always dismissed you, but eventually he would respond little by little, more and more. Because of your tenacity, sometimes he would ask you questions; even about your opinion on things! Sulyvahn warmed up to you very slowly, but it was difficult to tell when he would constantly be distant with you in public. You understand, though; he has a reputation to uphold. At least he’s not a jerk about it. However, when you two are alone, it was clear you were chipping away at his icy exterior. He became soft and tender towards you, initiating physical affections and words of kindness.

The more you accepted his intimacy, the more adamant he became about spending time and possessing you as his own. To expel any arising suspicion of his adoration of you, he appointed you his personal servant. It really would be the only way to not only have an excuse for the amount of time spent together, but to also still have authority and to claim ownership of you. Over the elongated time with one another, you started opening up and becoming a bit more personal with him (obviously only in private). You were afraid of his apathy for these subjects of yours, but to your surprise he listened and talked with you. You began to fall for him. Hard. You love the fact that he’s intelligent, direct, even-tempered, and ambitious, but also subdued, gentle, careful, and loving; you also enjoy the times he gets a little perverted.

    You being owned by possessed by dating Sulyvahn would include:

A calm, soothing, deep voice to relax your nerves

Being called, “ (My) Little one,” “Good girl,” and “My Dearest”

The first time he called you his, “little one” was when you were giving him his wine and you didn’t seem like your usual perky self

Those rare moments you can make him laugh. You never hear nor see him do it, but when it does happen, it’s deep, loud, and genuine

There are times he raises his voice at you, whether it was something you did or not. However, because you aren’t normally use to this (coupled with being unable to handle being yelled at), your fearful expression takes him back a bit, then he proceeds to talk calmly

Although there were some points where you yelled backed and he was quite surprised by it, since you’re usually quiet and unresponsive

One time you were so upset with him you didn’t want him near you. Little did you know it hurt him more than you thought, but he never showed and he will never admit it.

Just like you, Sulyvahn doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him. He thinks you finally hate him, just like everybody else does (but unlike how he views everybody else, he actually cares when you’re angry at him)

He really likes being close to you, which is weird because he seems to detest it when anyone else is within five feet of his space

He is surprisingly gentle when he touches you

Head pats and scratches (I mean come on, he has to “accidentally” treat you like a pet because he’s surrounded by ‘em)

Your head being held in his hands

There’s a lot of face touching. Like soft grazing of the cheeks, chin scratches, behind the ear scratches, etc

He practically pets you like a cat, and carries you like one even more so

He also dries your eyes when you’re upset, bending down to be eye level with you

Gives you massages, traces his hands down your body and around your hips, occasionally sliding his hand on and squishing your butt lightly

He would never hit you. If yelling once made you avoid him like the plague, only the gods know what you’d do if he physically harmed you

Early in your relationship he would grab your jaw and cheeks firmly when you agitate him, but that soon faded

For some reason, he likes to hold your wrists and forearms more than your hands

He will never pass up a moment to have you sit on his lap

When you two are relaxing, you can sit on his thigh and even though he is still tall enough to loom over you, you can still cuddle your face under his jaw and into his neck

One time when he had to stay up late for paperwork, you came in claiming you couldn’t sleep. So he beckoned you over and let you fall asleep sitting on his lap

When you’re upset and sitting on him, he talks soft and sweetly to you, all the while he caresses your head and thigh

During these times, when he speaks, you can feel his vocal chords thrumming

He accepts and cherishes every little gift you give him. Because of this, he never lets anyone else in his room. He doesn’t want to hide these things, he wants to see them every morning

You do have your own room, but he forces you to stay in his room and sleep with him

Loves to cuddle you, wrapping himself around you like you’re his tiny stuffed animal. Or would it be like he’s afraid of you running away from him in the dead of night ...

His deep breathing while he sleeps

Sulyvahn loves when you’re on top of him in bed, with your legs around his hips. He can’t help but feel and squish you all over

He loves to listen to your heartbeat and feeling the warmth you radiate

Free time is often spent just being around one another

You’re not allowed to get up in the morning until he does

Sulyvahn has a bit of a silly side. It’s only noticeable when he picks you up from under your arms so your shoulders are squishing your face. He usually does this when you’re pouty because he thinks it’s cute

His humor consists of dry, dark, and sarcasm

He loves it when you clutch his robes and snuggle your face into them

Sulyvahn fears the day an Undead/Unkindled one would walk in and cut you down without hesitation. Despite that, he does want to see you hide behind him, clutching his robe like a defenseless little creature

Very possessive; he doesn’t even like you walking around Irithyl by yourself

He only wants you to wear what he tells you. Thank goodness all his choices are something you don’t mind. Although he does want you to only wear a short nightgown to bed (no pants, no undergarments) even though it’s freezing (that’s what blankets and body warmth are for!)

Ever since you two have been getting intimate, he gradually lessens your interaction with other individuals. You have to be really convincing to let him change his mind

Despite the loving demeanor he most often gives when you two are alone, he can be cold, absent, and silent or stern when upset

He doesn’t always tell you everything. Like, you’re aware of some guy named Aldrich and some place called the Profaned Capital, but every time you bring either of them up, he either changes the subject immediately or hisses, “That doesn’t concern you.”

Despite all his coddling, he supervises you when you play with the Beasts. In fact, he’s the only reason they’re letting you touch them

He’s jealous that you like to spend time with them, but he’s trying to deal with it

Sometimes you witness him becoming physically abusive to his underlings (especially the Outriders), occasionally seeing him use his greatswords on them. He isn’t aware of your presence when these things happen, so he also doesn’t know that you are slightly afraid of him

However, despite those weapons striking fear into you, he does fight with them gracefully, and it’s difficult to take your eyes off of him. He did tell you to leave when he’s busy with an interloper, so you shouldn’t know of his violence (tsk tsk)

There are times when you accidentally upset him so much he locks you in your room for a few days

Stay away from the Dungeon. The last time he found out you set a single foot in there, he didn’t let you out of his sight for a month. That place is filthy and dangerous, especially with all the maggots, wretches, and sadistic jailers

He doesn’t let you go up to Anor Londo

Because of the lack of facial expressions, you can only judge his feelings by the way he speaks. Even then it is difficult because when something is troubling him, he masks his speech quite well

You’ve never seen his face, for he hides it whenever he can (with his mask or with his long, flowing hair. Which use to be a glistening white, but all that is slowly being grown out with a flowing, deep black)

However, he takes his mask off, or pushes his hair aside, to kiss your neck and shoulders (and other places if needed)

Good morning and goodnight kisses. Always. These usually range from multiple light kisses on the forehead, cheeks, and neck, to one long, aggressive, Frenching (depending on the mood)

The Pope Sins:

Obviously he loves to play master and servant, as well as priest and sinner

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?”

Sometimes he wants to bathe with you. For obviously different reasons than to get clean

Although he’s dominant and commanding outside of the bed, he would do anything that you ask of him if it pleased you during sex. It’s during this time he wants to make up and really express his gratitude and commitment for you.

Some days he can’t help but imagine pinning you on the closest surface and fucking you

One time you made the mistake of sitting on his lap just to cuddle him when he was slightly in the mood. He had you talk about whatever, but he slowly moved his hand up you leg, past your thigh, and gently rubbed your clitoris (or really where it would be because you had pants on). One thing led to another and soon he brushed all his work aside and had you lay down on the table, readying you for him

“I will fuck you on the altar if I must!”

Sulyvahn enjoys feeling your warm, nude body against his, rubbing in such a rhythmic pattern

Sometimes in the morning you wake up to find him gently playing with your tits. He loves the fact that they are almost always hard because of the cold climate

Not only does he enjoy your breasts, along with your pressing tits, against him, but he also likes to touch and caress them. Squishing the fatty parts gently, but pinching your nipples so you squeak. In fear that it might have hurt, he gently rubs his thumbs in circles on them, in hopes to soften the maybe discomfort

Occasionally during foreplay, he would do the same thing in attempt to lubricate yourself with your lady fluids, but Sulyvahn also gently kisses your breasts to relax and soften you up

He loves to pleasure you during foreplay. He knows he’s in complete power to make you squirm and cum for him. Watching you move and whisper his name under every breath you take is enough for him to be erect

The reason he wants you to wear that extremely short nightgown is so if he is feeling a little horny in the morning or before bed, he can easily finger you

He wants you to orgasm at least three times for him, the first one must happen before he has intercourse with you

When he’s fingering you, he likes to grab and pull on your pelvis to surprise you

He loves to hear you moan and whimper with every thrust he makes

Sulyvahn enjoys making you beg. He learned too quickly of how you act when you are about to climax. So, he took that to his advantage and stopped pleasing you so you’d have no choice but to beg for him to continue

Both of you often call yourself his, “play thing” and “fuck doll.”

You often giggle during intercourse because you’re really enjoying it. With that known, if your sad in bed, he will reach his hand in between your legs. If you can’t laugh your adorable laugh on command, he’ll make you

He never touches himself because he has you to do it now. He just wants you make him cum, whether it be in you or on you. In addition, he never wants you to touch yourself either because he wants to be the only one needed to make you cum

During sex he is a lot more physically aggressive to you. Digging his fingers into your skin, thrusting harder and harder the more either of you give any sign of increased arousal, but mostly when you’re constantly telling him, “More, more, more!”

And of course, you love to hear his moans and grunts of sexual pleasure, and even more so when he’s eating you out. Sulyvahn holds onto you tightly, moving his hands all around your hips and thighs, sometimes lifting you up so he has more control over you…

But most importantly, you can see his icy blue eyes through his raven black hair. He’s aware of this and makes sure he looks at you, with that hungry, lustful gaze. Nonchalantly he looks away and presses his mouth into you even more, occasionally nipping at your clit

Sulyvahn adores it when you get aggressive with him during sex. Just like him, you tend to dig your fingers into him, making him wince out of pleasure and pain. During oral, you run your fingers into his hair and push his head into you more, which, of course, he responds with inserting his tongue inside you, moving it around as much as he can

He never explicitly asks you to suck him off, but when you do feel extra hungry for him, you drink all of him down

Sulyvahn, after it’s done, would often look and admire his handiwork on you. Just the idea of his seed inside of you and oozing out it globs makes him want to keep you more. He leans over you and kisses your neck multiple times, “You’re mine, little one. Forevermore, you’ll be mine.”