#her loss i would’ve given her an entire set up AND plants for free

[coochiekrab]

Friend called and asked me for help in finding a pet that’s right for her and i tried soooooo hard in convincing her to keep fish and Join Me but she declined💔

[the-remainder]

Greetings weary traveler,

we present you with the second part of the Tale of the Fog Children. Thank you for reading and let us know if you enjoy our tale so far.

If you're not sure what I'm talking about, this is a bonus short story that takes place in the world of The Remainder, a dark fantasy visual novel, you can play Act 1 by clicking here.

Tale of the Fog Children

Read part 1 here

Part 2 of 3

Sometime after midnight, soft footfalls told me that someone was approaching. I sat in front of the fire facing Sestra as she neared and gestured at some straws I’d laid down earlier with my pipe. Sestra pulled back her hood, her surprise that I was expecting her quickly replaced by urgency.

“I needed to tell you something, sir, but I’d like an answer first, if you please?” A note of desperation was in her voice.

“Your children…” I paused to let the fact that I knew sink in, “…are in that fogdune. We can help them, but I need to know the truth.”

Sestra heaved a sigh, her whole frame slackening as if a weight had been dropped.

“You have to understand, sir, that we loved them dearly, both of them. Things were hard. We had scarcely enough to eat, being simple cactus herders. The way they took ill, we’d given everything to the temple, and that was just enough to keep them at death’s door, you see?” As she spoke, her eyes became red-rimmed, and she poked at the fire with a twig listlessly. “I guess you know about their birth too? About the Howling Eve?”

I puffed on my pipe and nodded.

“We’d hoped it was only tales, but the illness, the paleness of their skin, it was too much to ignore, see? The mentee told us how they should have been one, and the low ones’ howling made them... They said…” Sestra choked up, her knuckles pressed hard into the centre of her chest, like she was trying to loosen a painfully tight knot inside. I knew that knot, I almost reached a hand to my own chest.

Instead, I drew deeply on my pipe and blew mapacho smoke over her as I silently chanted a mantra to soothe the heart.

After a while, her breath grew steady, and she resumed her story. “There was no cure. We were going to lose them both, you see? And Teha, my sweet girl, she drew the short stem, see? Only Teho was going to be fit to carry on the family work, and the bloodline.

Girls here, we had but two ways, incense tenders at the temple, or wed away for a dowry. And so, when another Howling Eve came, and they grew so cold and the colors were gone from them…”

The light had left her eyes, she was reaching the centre of the knot. I stayed as relaxed and steady as an old well and blew smoke on her as much as I could, focusing on the mantra, on listening.

“…We gambled. We… hardened our hearts. Duma used to say we chose to give all the medicine to one child, but now I think we did no such thing. We chose to give up the other. My Teha… my Teha…” Tears glittered in the dancing firelight, but her panting and choking was calmer. Now or never, I decided.

“The fogdune had been lingering near this village ever since Teha passed, correct?” I asked.

Sestra nodded, wearing her teary veil unashamedly.

“Insect-like things live within those dunes, neither flesh nor spirit. They live on the borders of the Seas. When a person with a strong bond to someone passes, pieces of their heart linger on that border, and the insects sometimes absorb the pieces, where the person can exercise some will in the world still through these insects. The ones that inhabit this fogdune took Teha, and that’s how she lingered here.

She had a bond to someone. But the insects could not survive too far away from the shores’s moisture. They kept her from entering the village until...”

Sestra’s hand covered her mouth now, she whispered. “Until she missed Teho too much…”

“Correct, twins share a bond that sometimes transcend boundaries. Teha surely had called to Teho. He must’ve been strangely attracted to that fogdune.”

“He was, we chided him so many times… Then Teho went and… by the depth…”

“You could not keep them apart for long, they would find each other, eventually. When Teho entered the fogdune, the insects would’ve absorbed his heart as well. And when you burned the Longing Leaves, which compelled lost loved ones to return home, their longing for home overwhelmed the insect’s natural habits. That’s why the Fogdune is over your home now.

The howling you heard, and the overwhelming sorrow you felt is the children’s longing and the despair of the insects. They’re trapped there, dying. We must free them.”

Tears burst from Sestra. She wailed, all the bottled up guilt and loss coming out at once. She rubbed at her eyes, brushing again and again with her long sleeves, but the tears wouldn’t cease.

I stopped scrubbing with the smoke, mapacho was telling me to let her be, and he was usually right about such things. Those tears healed her more than anything I could hope to do. I closed my eyes, and before long, saw a blackness lift from her Reflection - the energies of a person made visible by a magus’s Sight.

A firelight bobbed along in the distance through the trees, I’m almost out of time.

“Sestra, listen to me, you must lead the fogdune away from here, or they will all continue to suffer, the insects, the children, Duma, everyone.”

“I… how?”

“A keepsake of Teha’s, she was the first host, her will is stronger. You need something she’d loved, something she’d not easily forget. I trust you have such a thing.”

Sestra’s hand reached for her chest again. She opened her mouth, but stomping footsteps interrupted and set her jittering. Duma emerged from the trees bearing a torch and a scowl. His gaze upon Sestra was loaded with accusation, but he carefully avoided my eyes.

“You had to blab, didn’t you?” He snatched Setra’s wrist and lead her away, spitting out. “She’s been stricken by what’s happened. She says things. You shouldn’t believe her.”

“Duma.” I used my chanting voice, feeling the deep, subtle rumbles in my entire torso as I spoke. “The past is in the past, I only want to help you now.”

At that, Duma planted his feet, balling up his free hand into a fist. He said with his back to me, “You can help by leaving us be.” His voice was sand and cinders.

“And your neighbours? If you don’t heed me, your house will not be the only one lost. The fogdune will move soon, it will keep moving from one house to the next, until it’s deplete of Waters and dies in agony.”

“And what’s it got to do with me?”

“Because your children are in that fogdune.”

Duma was vibrating with tension. It took some force of will for him to stay still like he did, but I knew I had his attention.

“If you don’t believe me, bring a keepsake of Teha’s before the dune, it will react.”

Duma stood huffing for a few breaths more, then stomped back to the village with Sestra in tow.

To be continued...

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Torture

Darkness......... That was the last thing High Matriarch Helvaka could remember, the last thing that seemed to define her reality at the moment that without which she would have considered her whole predicament ludicrous.  She remembered being aboard her flagship, the Juvien Wave. She remembered her fleet orbiting a planet her commanders assured her would fall by days end. She remembered the sight of a thousand Gloven warships in stationary orbit and her chest swelling with pride.  She remembered the first energy lance from the planet’s surface.....she remembered the sight of the cruiser next to her ship being split in two....she remembered the sounds of sirens and the wailing of alarms as more and more energy lances fired upwards and tore into their fleet........she remembered the sudden loss of stabilizers and the sensation of falling as her flagship, the pride of the Gloven Empire, was pulled downwards by the planets gravity and then......nothing.  When Helvaka awoke she was no longer onboard her vessel. Her mind drifted in and out of consciousness regularly but when she was awake enough to observe her surroundings she saw a white room with windows overlooking a collection of plant life. She could feel things inside her too; dull things that pierced her skin and clamps of some sort that held her limbs in place.  Each time she awoke from the depths of her mind she tried to gain more and more information of where she was before the darkness consumed her. Strange creatures, humans most likely, stood in corners of the room at times or would be next to her looking at machines whose cables clung to her. Sometimes they wore white uniforms, sometimes they wore dull grey ones. The ones in the corners she could tell were soldiers observing her. Though she couldn’t make out their details, she knew the bearing of a warrior when she saw it and with the metallic object they kept clutched in their arm it didn’t take much to put things together.  When Helvaka was finally awake and was able to retain consciousness she was able to finally fully observe the room holding her.  Her best wager would’ve been a cross between a hospital room and a prison cell. Moving her arms and legs Helvaka found that enough slack was given to re-leave the aching of her limbs, but not enough to break free of the now visible restraints holding down her arms, legs, and upper body. Though she had full motion control of her body for some reason it felt as if it was something massive weighed down her entire body.  Before she could make any further investigations to her situation the door to the room left of her opened and a short human entered the room. They wore a black suit and matching pants, hair a dark shade of brown and messy with skin tone marked by discolorations.   In their hand they carried a small container held from a handle that they set on a nearby table before pulling up a chair beside Helvaka. The human introduced themselves as “Mr. Jacob” and stated that he was a specialist. When Helvaka refused to answer him Jacob continued on with the conversation and began asking her a series of questions.  “How many ships did you bring?”  “Where were your staging grounds?” “What are your command frequencies for fleet communication?”  “Did you have any collaborators?”  He would ask a barrage of questions regarding Gloven military matters; matters that were crucial to the current campaign against the human core worlds. Yet Helvaka was a soldier first and foremost and would never betray those secrets and thus sat in silence.  For days he would visit her, set down his container, pull up a chair and begin asking her the same questions. When she gave no answers he would repeat the questions three more times before reclaiming his container and leaving the room. She suspected the devices implanted in her someone how altered her physical chemistry as she would awake shortly before he arrived and then sleep not long after he left.  She had lost count of how long this one sided conversation had played out. She thought she would be trapped in this endless loop of repetition until the war finally ended. If only that had been true.  When next Helvaka awoke she felt a new sensation, a painful sensation centered around her abdomen. She looked down at her stomach and to her horror found several small metal cylinders protruding out.  In revulsion she frantically tried to reach them and pull them out but her bindings held her in place, her hands just out of reach of the nearest cylinder. It was during this frantic struggle that Mr. Jacob entered.  “What is this human?”  Her first words since arriving in this white room were riddled with a low rumble of hatred.  Mr. Jacob said nothing, continuing his normal routine of setting down his container and pulling up a chair, his face as blank and expressionless as ever. “How many ships did you bring?”  “What are these things you have put inside me?”  “Where were your staging grounds?” “Why have you implanted me with them?!” “What are your command frequencies for fleet communication?” “Remove them at once and release me!” “Did you have any collaborators?” “Did you not hear me!”  The back and forth fell on deaf ears as Mr. Jacobs face remained unmoved as he prepared to ask again.  “How many ships did you bring?”  Helvaka glared at him and said nothing. Instead of asking the next question right away Mr. Jacob stood up and approached Helvaka. She tried to retract herself but the restraints were now suddenly holding her firm in place. She watched as he gently taped the end of one of the cylinders. It made a strange beeping sound and then flashed green before going quiet once more and with that Mr. Jacob returned to his seat without saying another word. “What did you ju-”  Helvaka stopped mid-sentence as she felt something strange. A sensation...a growing sensation of burning and pain. Her breath became more ragged and intense as the sensation began to go from a mild annoyance to feeling like a blade was being shoved inside her. Her limbs began thrashing against the binds holding her, back arching high off the bed as she began to scream. A wailing scream not of anger or fury, not of passion nor defiance; but of raw pain the likes of which was so immense that one could never describe it, the words never capturing the suffering.  Helvaka screamed for what felt like an eternity before the pain seemingly began to dissipate. Tears rolling down her eyes, she could barely regard what had just happened as real until Mr. Jacob spoke.  “That cylinder is a medical device used to drain bodily fluids while medical operations are underway.”  He went to his container, opening it to reveal a collection of similar cylinders stacked inside. He gently lifted one out and held it up for Helvaka to see.  “They are designed to withstand the corrosive materials often found inside humans and do not degrade even when the most toxic of materials is being pumped through them.” He set the cylinder in his hand back into the bag and then approached Helvaka again, bringing himself face to face with her.  “The tubes inside you have been modified somewhat with several tiny holes along the body. They’ve been implanted into your stomach and when I press this button here,” his hand hovered over the same point he had touched before, “it draws out your stomach digestive fluids like a straw.”  He looked her dead in the eye and what Helvaka saw for the first time in her life made her scared. “What you felt just now was your own stomach acids pouring through those tiny holes and dissolving your insides.”  “Wha....what?”  Helvaka  could barely finish a sentence as the horror of her situation finally came full circle.  “Your species is very similar to humans in that your stomach is lined with a special coating that can inert the acidity of your stomach acids, but that coating only applies to the insides of your stomach. Should any other part of your body come into contact with it, the acidity will begin to slowly burn through just like any other acid.”  Helvaka  gritted her teeth. “Why would you devise such a cruel method to kill me?”  This question appeared to take him by surprise as his blank face broke for a moment and showed confusion.  “Kill you? Why would we want to kill an enemy commander we’ve been lucky enough to capture?”  Mr. Jacobs motioned to the surrounding room.  “This is a hospital after all. After I am finished with my questions they can heal your wounds nicely and make you good as new.”  He flashed a grin that to Helvaka appeared like a monster that has finally found its prey. “That way even if you decide to refuse answering my questions we can keep you alive for the next round of questions, and then the next round after that, and then the next round after that, and so on.”  He sat back down still smiling while Helvaka was wishing she had died with the rest of her crew.  “I think we’re going to become great friends. Now, where were your staging grounds?” -------------------

Not all humans wear shining armor, nor are they heroes that save the day.  Sometimes we are the monsters, that heroes come to slay. So the universe waits with bated breath, with grins from ear to ear.  Unsure of who they deal with, when humans are ones to fear. 

[dragonmaiden79]

Enlightenment (part 1)

Introducing, my latest OC Xenisha (Zen-E-Shuh)! She’s a genius from Earthrealm who moved to Outworld by her own choice and though she would much prefer to keep excessive attention off herself, that becomes less and less plausible when the Kahn and Queen start hearing about her inventions and technical ability. New job with new demands is something she doesn’t care for, but when Shang Tsung gets involved, she decides maybe it’s not so bad.

Part 1, Enlightenment; First Encounter

(Shang Tsung x BlackFemaleOC, No warnings)

The sun scorched landscape stretched as far as the eye could see. The main parts of Outworld were composed almost entirely of the hardened cracked sand that Xenisha’s hover-pack kept her in flight over. A summons had been brought to her door, requesting presence before Empress Sindel and Emperor Shao Kahn. Immediately. Two days, was all she had to get herself together and head for the rust colored mountains, where one of their many lavish palaces was located.

From the moment she discovered the notice pinned to the door of her home, Xenisha had to ensure preparedness and punctuality to the meeting. Heat was a given, the sun was always so relentless, especially when heading into the private properties of the mountains, so she had to dress light and still remain presentable– Though she had no intentions of going overboard to put up any appearances. Never that. A neon green t-shirt with navy blue denim overalls would serve just fine. They were both made from the genetically altered cotton that was grown on her plot of land; As a result the clothes could nearly breath and were resilient to external temperatures. In other words, by her own creation, there existed a fabric that remained roughly an even 60 degrees to the touch at all times. Long gloves that went past her elbows with fingers tipped in soft metal to operate any of her custom interfaces and made of a hardier version of the same cotton accompanied it, as she was determined not to let the sun sear her skin the same way it had the terrain.

As for her hair, she began washing it immediately after her outfit was chosen. This was one part of her appearance that couldn’t be compromised. It was long, impractically so– Although it didn’t appear to be, favoring instead a thick, mass of tight, puffy, dark colored coils that grew from her scalp in all directions and came to rest on her shoulders, with some continuing midway down her back. For the impromptu journey it needed to be fully hydrated, double twisted and then pinned into a bun, to finally be covered with a decorative silk headwrap to keep it from sustaining heat damage from Outworld’s unforgiving climate. It was treated as her crown– One of the few non-science related indulgences that she simply adored participating in.

Lastly, since she had no intentions of showing up empty handed, some of her tech was chosen for the occasion. Hover-pack, teleporter, and sub-space sash with a pair of flexible, comfortable shoes, and she was ready to go.

The whole way there, she tried to think not annoyed thoughts. Not only was the day a complete loss, meaning no time to dig around for parts or work on any of her near finished projects, but this situation was one that she’d found herself in constantly and she hated it. Xenisha didn’t mind inventing and creating things for commoners and poor folk, but when it came to powerful authority figures she’d learned to avoid displaying her talents. She preferred not being a pawn to be bargained with, bought or sold.

The ‘locals’ were near destitute, left to scratch around and work as slave laborers once their home realms were fused into Outworld. Out by the Rust Wall, i.e. the cluster of shantytowns that survivors gathered in to preserve what they could of their culture, is where she amassed hidden influence. It wasn’t on purpose, but after building a permanent home and using gene tampering to grow fruit and vegetables year round, she began to garner much attention. Soon enough, she was handing out free food to beggars and giving away bundles of the specialized seeds to farm and be planted in high traffic spaces. The sudden abundance of plant life earned new nicknames for the area, and soon the Rust Wall became the Green Wall (or any other variation of that name).

People repaid their gratitude by giving her things like books, materials, currency, and whatever else they could get their hands on. She didn’t ask for much, if anything at all, just to be able to hear how this invention and that new plant was working out. If anything needed improvement. Doing things that way helped her research extensively, which was satisfaction enough. It always had been.

But as the Green Wall grew and word of it spread, the Emperor and Empress became interested. Hiring her for small tasks and offering higher and higher payouts whenever she tried to say no, until they started sending Kollector to retrieve her, in lieu of making requests. Now she was abundantly wealthy with a position she never wanted or needed.

She shook her head. This was her own fault. Had she not been so eager to toss her creations at everyone she saw this wouldn’t be happening right now.

But they were all just so dang poor! How the hell was she supposed to ignore them?

She sighed as she touched down. It didn’t make much of a difference at this point.

Now standing before the spear-like rod iron gate that allowed entry on to the grounds, she was greeted by the hulking Shokan guards meant to escort her to the throne room. They would’ve let her walk there on her own, but the place was vast (ugly too), and she’d failed to navigate it more than once (gotten lost).

While it was wise to build around the largest oasis in the area, the 'sharp’ design of everything from the torch holders on the wall to the impractical black spiral staircase that led to (lo and behold) another long hallway and another flight of stairs (this time not spiral) was just ridiculous. Black, green, dark red, with skulls, warped faces, and spikes was the entire motif, and it was… Unbearable; A melodramatic over statement of 'I am Villain, I am King, I will be obeyed’, if Xenisha ever saw one.

Finally, after more stairs than anyone would ever care to walk, they arrived in the throne room. It was large enough to have a troop of soldiers gather and receive orders all at once. Crossing the polished sandstone floor, flanked by two guards on each side, Xenisha stopped just before the (godforsaken) stairs that lead up to a platform that held a set of matching thrones. Two powerful entities sat atop them with one advisor standing next to each seat neither of whom she’d met. They were just high enough, make a person feel beneath them and know who had the power.

“Your Majesty.” Xenisha bowed to each of them, “Your Majesty.”

The proud beautiful Empress Sindel spoke first. “Hmph. The girl continues to offend me,” she scoffed to Shao Kahn before turning to her. “Must your lack of effort always be so apparent?”

The simmering annoyance that she’d had been feeling became a blaze of anger, and she had to bite her tongue to push it down, avoid getting her head taken off. The Empress enjoyed antagonizing those who were 'lower class’ than her, especially appearance wise. She hated Xenisha’s work clothes and made sure to say so every time she saw her in them.

Do not start with me…. Xenisha thought, rolling her eyes.

Bringing a hand up to her ear and twisting the stud earring there, she exhaled slowly before answering. “With all due respect Madame,” she urged herself to say, “The letter didn’t say this was a social call.” She replied, with the tiniest edge of condescension.

Obviously satisfied with herself, Sindel waved a dismissive hand smirking. “I care not for your excuses.”

“Right…” Xenisha grumbled, letting go of her ear to slip her hands in her pockets. “How can I help you guys today?” She sighed.

Shao Kahn spoke. “Some of our 'allies’ require a small amount of monitoring. I gather you are capable of creating such devices.”

“Sure.” She replied.

“Excellent.” He nodded, “The intel will prove to be a valuable asset.”

“Mmmhm. Wonderful.” She said flatly.

“How much time will this take?” Sindel asked.

“3 months– 90 Earth days.”

“Your 'enthusiasm’ is contagious.” Shao Kahn remarked sarcastically. “Very well. Part of your payment will arrive at your home tomorrow.”

“Great.” Xenisha nodded, quickly. “Will that be all?”

This was always how these conversations went; The Queen or the Kahn stated a 'request’, she said 'Yes I can!’, performed said task, and received a massive sum of money. She had more Shao Koins and Sin-Dollars than she knew what to do with, but admittedly it was nice being able to buy more rare and expensive metals. Even if only because it took away some of the time and effort of having to scavenge.

“No.” Sindel said, sitting back and crossing her leg, gesturing to the right. “That will not be all, Xenisha. Shang Tsung will be overseeing this undertaking to ensure quality, as well as personally screening any intel that you may find.”

Xenisha glanced at him, who raised his eyebrows and smirked.

“Actually he can stay here, I don’t need any supervision. But thanks.” She said, uneasily shifting.

“On the contrary,” Shao Kahn interjected, “Since you will be the one collecting the information–”

“I never said I w-”

“–Reporting to him directly will bypass the tedium of having to await your arrival.”

“…..Ya know what? I… Guess that’ll work.” The idea of periodically having to meet up with them was enough to have her agree.

Hopefully this situation wouldn’t carry on for too long, but from Shang Tsung’s expression, he was likely to make this as difficult as possible.

***##***

Hope you all enjoyed my new shit, and thank you for reading❤❤

[altherei]

What It Will Cost

((Content warning: this story contains brief but moderate violence and mentions of blood.))

***

He hadn’t meant to upset her, truly. When Darsamane had called his daughter down to visit, he had hoped to catch up, to express his worries, and if nothing else just.. plant the seed that maybe, just maybe, someone else could take up the mantle she’d given herself. He hadn’t anticipated how hot-headed he would become, but in the days that followed their argument he found he wasn’t surprised by it. The loss of Arathaer so many years ago had stung, but to some degree not as much as it could have. While Darsamane and his wife had worried for the two Farstrider boys, they knew that death in battle was always a risk. So when word reached them he’d fallen to Amani skirmishers, it was a terrible wave of grief that swept over them, but not one entirely unexpected.

But Eldwin’s death had been. At times now, Darsamane found himself cursing his own methods of raising his children. Perhaps if he’d taught them to be cowards, to respect authority over justice, maybe neither of those two boys would’ve enlisted.. maybe they’d still be alive. Maybe his wife wouldn’t have fallen to grief. And perhaps his youngest, his only daughter, wouldn’t be so proudly standing against an entire world at war, telling it ‘no, enough’. Those thoughts soon passed though, and lead him to feel only disgust with himself. What father wishes cowardice on his own children? He should feel pride, he thought. And he did. But more than anything else, he felt fear. Burying two children was enough- burying his wife was enough. He’d meant his plea to Altherei with every fiber of his being: please don’t make me have to bury my little girl, too.

He tried to follow the work of the Outreach closely, what little was made public. He knew she’d purchased land because Maelus had kept him in the loop, but he didn’t know too much more. Even if she had a small army with her- which he knew she didn’t- it wouldn’t be enough to assuage his fears. It was part of a parent’s duty to worry, after all, and while he somewhat regretted he’d passed on that trait to her, there was something deeper gnawing at him lately. Some sense of impending doom. It kept him up at night, and lingered in his thoughts throughout the day. It was tortuously non-specific, leaving him with no real idea if he feared the conflict between the Horde and Alliance was about to ramp up, if another of his children were now in mortal danger, or if he was simply so tired and weary of everything that it was finally starting to sink in just how bad things had become.

What had made matter somewhat worse was this: several days after his ill-fated argument with Altherei, Darsamane had started to get the sense he was being shadowed. It was little more than a passing concern at first, meeting unpleasant stares or the occasional brief jeer when in the city. He was somewhat outspoken about the war, himself. A man of science, he made no attempts to hide what the data made quite clear: constant, unchecked war was unsustainable for the planet and her people. He was well-used to dirty looks by now for saying the obvious. He learned several wars ago that the public wasn’t often fond of the truth.

But this was different, somehow. There seemed to be no real extended moment of peace where he could sit down, enjoy a cup of tea or a book, and not be quietly convinced there was something- or someone- there. Every little odd noise caused his ears to flick up sharply, even if it was naught but a breeze pushing a few leaves against the kitchen window. Even his sleep lately had been punctuated by strange, immobius fears that he could never place once he woke. Something was not right, yet he could point to no evidence to prove it. And ever a man of logic and science, he was able to at least partially convince himself his worries were simply getting the better of him.

It was after a relatively calm night, one largely free of night terrors, that he was slated to take a research trip. His group was one of many races, all fairly-well scattered about the globe, but when any made even something close to a noteworthy discovery, they all convened to discuss it, dissect it, and see what could be done with it. Sometimes it was a wash (usually it was), but other times there would be nuggets of useful data and information they could take back to their respective homes and continue to study. It was slow work, but ultimately their goals were noble and slow progress was better than none.

So it was one of these such discoveries that prompted a gathering of those like minds, this time the location had been set for Hillsbrad- not an ideal location per se but it was what was fairly easy to get to for the lot of them. It did mean passing through Tirisfal and Silverpine- what was left of them, anyway. Darsamane knew it wasn’t the safest route, but it was the quickest.. and besides, he was hardly a man of note. A thorn in the side of some pro-war fanatics, but little more than that. If they hadn’t tried to string him up or even bother to spit on him up to now, he thought it unlikely they’d do so now. And so, after a brief letter was penned to Altherei and her brothers alerting them he’d be out of town for a week or more, the trip began.

And largely, it was uneventful. He took a wide berth around what was once Undercity, keeping his mask on well until he’d made it to the border of Tirisfal and Silverpine- with blight, one could never be too careful. Even then, his passing into Silverpine was unremarkable, and he kept largely to himself even when passing by the usual undead patrols. It was only once he’d passed by the Sepulcher and was nearing the ruined wall of Gilneas that the creeping feeling of being watched slowly began to return. He halted his hawkstrider, and there was a brief skidding noise that ceased. He started to walk again, and he could hear quiet but distinct footsteps behind him. A few more moments of this and the old elf came to a slow, easy stop before speaking.

“Is there something I could help you with? I may be an old elf, but these ears still hear quite well,” His voice was soft and the words spoken with a bit of a breathy laugh, even if something didn’t feel quite right.

As he turned, he saw a decently-armored forsaken, clad largely in leather and some chainmail, approach from under a tree’s shadow. He was hunched, like all the rest, but what Darsamane couldn’t help but notice was just how completely he was covered- his elbows, his knees, fingers, toes- all of him but a bit of his rotted face was covered in clothing or armor. The forsaken slowly pulled a cloth bandanna away from his lower jaw- metal and screwed into the top jaw- to speak in a guttural rasp.

“.. I’ve been.. following you.”

“Yes, I noticed. For some time, I’d imagine- not just this little sojourn.” Came the reply.

The forsaken plodded forward. “.. Are you familiar with the Outreach?”

The closer the undead drew, the more little details Darsamane noticed- particularly a lack of obvious weapons. Despite this, Darsamane’s suspicion remained. He would be the first to admit he held no small amount of prejudice and wariness toward the forsaken, and it had only been amplified with Sylvanas’s recent actions as Warchief. He chose his words carefully, settling on a lie.

“The Outreach?”

“Come now,” The forsaken gave a brief laugh, though it sounded more like an odd rattle in his throat, “I know who you are. Darsamane Darkwind, the man soldiers love to hate,” He grinned, and while it should’ve been disarming, it was not.

“And yet I don’t know you,” Darsamane replied calmly, still atop his hawkstrider even as the forsaken motioned for him to come down to converse more readily. He held up his gloved hands, palms out.

“Forgive me- you may call me Marne. I.. do apologize if my shadowing has.. ah.. brought you discomfort. We forsaken are not… looked upon kindly, lately. Regardless of our own personal feelings.” He admitted.

Darsamane paused, considering the words. “You stand in opposition to Sylvanas?” He asked.

“You could say I find her methods.. distasteful. She tries, but… she does not speak for all of us.” The forsaken dipped his head, coughing once into a fist. “I can never be sure these days who.. who would prefer to see me returned to the grave before I can speak my piece.”

The old elf’s brows furrowed, and while he could feel his own prejudices chewing at his gut, his conscience prodded him forward. He slowly slid off his hawkstrider, dusting his hands together a couple times.

“You and those who think like you share that fear. It seems even disagreement is tantamount to treason these days,” He offered.

“Which is why.. I ask about the Outreach. It is your daughter’s project, yes? I’ve.. I’ve seen the flyers. I’m just.. not sure if I’d be welcomed,” His voice fell, as did his glowing yellow gaze.

“It is, and.. one that.. while I’m proud of her for being brave enough to lead.. as a father, I’m terrified. But.. if you find all this war as distasteful as you say.. I don’t think she would turn you away. Your people may be judged harshly by the actions of Sylvanas but.. I know my daughter. She tries not to be like the rest.” His expression twisted into a pained smile- one that Marne seemed to pick up on.

“You don’t seem proud- just terrified.”

Darsamane frowned. “I taught her those things- instilled those values in her. But now it’s those values I fear could get her hurt, or.. or worse. And … and I can’t bear that thought.” He admitted softly.

Marne was quiet for a time, gently rapping his fingers along the glove of his opposite hand.

“Do you think she’s afraid for herself?”

“.. I’d hope she is,” The elf spoke quickly. “She isn’t a fool. She knows there are plenty who would see her as a traitor, who would be happy to bring her harm just because she thinks there’s a better way. But.. if she is afraid, she doesn’t show it. She doesn’t let it stop her.” A small, fond smile crept back onto his features.

Marne was silent again, a low rumble from somewhere in his throat the only sound. He paced a little, turning his back to the elf to peer down the old path in Silverpine. “.. Traitors should be afraid,” He said simply.

Darsamane’s blood ran cold, “.. What did you say.” His fists clenched, but he’d barely gotten the words out before Marne spun on him, a brass-knuckled fist striking him square across the jaw and sending him sprawling on the ground. Marne spat just shy of the old elf’s face, delivering a powerful kick from steel-toed boots to his gut.

“I said traitors should be afraid,” He repeated icily. “Or are your ears not as good as you claim?” He hissed, and kicked Darsamane again.

The wind was forced from his lungs, and he wrapped an arm around himself as best he could despite the searing pain from what was no doubt a broken rib or two. He could feel his left eye swelling shut already, but tried to get to his knees all the same. Strangely enough, Marne let him. His breathing came somewhat like a wheeze with the swelling of his face, and he eyed the undead with a mix of betrayal, anger, and confusion. The hawkstrider, startled by the noise and the row, backpedaled and took off into the forest.

“I don’t understand- you said you stood in opposition!” He spat blood onto the cobbled road.

“I said I found the Banshee Queen’s methods distasteful, old man.” He rumbled, “She’s too soft.”

“Too soft-,” He almost laughed, “She burned the World Tree!”

“And she should’ve BLIGHTED it!” Marne hissed, lifting a boot to kick Darsamane in the face, sending him onto his back.

“None should’ve been allowed to escape that damned piece of kindling, and those who think this world can ever see peace without the annihilation of the Alliance are traitors to the cause!” He hovered over Darsamane, who was clutching at a broken, bleeding, and swelling nose.

“If you lay a hand on my daughter, I swear by the Sunwell I’ll-” He wasn’t permitted to finish the sentence before one gloved hand pulled him forward by the collar of his robes, while the other came down in a brutal jab.

“You’ll what?” Another punch. “You can’t even fight back! You pathetic old man!” He cackled, spittle flying into Darsamane’s face. The old elf reeled, but his gaze remained steely.

“You won’t win. Your types never do.” He snarled.

Marne stopped after the third punch, but whether it was because he was choosing his next words carefully or because Darsamane’s had struck a rare chord was anyone’s guess. But judging by the creeping smile that came over Marne’s face, the latter had never been an option. He pulled Darsamane close enough that the elf could smell the rot in his mouth- after all, there was no breath to be had. He tried not to gag.

“Oh, but we will. We play the long game.” He set the scientist back a few inches, only to slam the back of his head into the cobblestone with a disturbing crack. Darsamane hissed, and before he could speak Marne was upon him again, a foot pressed hard against his already broken and aching ribs.

“It’s such a simple equation- what a pity a man of your alleged intelligence can’t figure it out, Darkwind. Killing her? That achieves nothing. Killing her makes her a martyr, and inflames tensions and makes a mess of everything.” He leaned into his boot, prompting a wheeze from the brutalized elf.

“But killing you? That’s demoralizing. Her brother paid for his own treason with his life- your life will pay for hers.” He lifted the boot and brought it down in a heavy stomp, which sent blood and spit from Darsamane’s mouth as he curled onto his side in an instinctive effort to dull the pain.

Marne moved to hover in front of the man, kneeling down to glower at him with enough glee to send a shiver up any sane man’s spine.

“And in the end? She will learn that her actions will cost her everyone she loves. One by one, until there are none left. At some point, she will realize that her dream of peace has a cost even she won’t be willing to pay forever.”

Darsamane snarled, forcing a cocky grin to his broken face. “Except I know who you are. You’ll be found, tried, and pay for your crimes.”

“I won’t get away with this,” He echoed sardonically with a cackle. “Marne is not my name. But it wouldn’t matter anyway.. you think you’re the only one who hits the books, old man? A dagger in the back is quick and efficient, but I much prefer to see you waste away while your brain swells against your skull. You don’t know who I am at all…” He stood slowly, and Darsamane’s breathing quickened- a man all but staring his end in the face and finding himself now without recourse or power to stop it.

“And should you be lucky enough to wake up before you die, you won’t remember me anyway.”

A final swift kick was delivered to the center of Darsamane’s face, whipping him in the other direction on the path. No sound came from the elf as he lay a crumpled heap on the bloodied cobblestone path- the same path his own daughter had walked with Kalomar just weeks before. Marne put his ear to the man’s body- still breathing, but haggardly. No doubt he’d be read some form of the riot act for not ensuring the man’s death, but they’d see the point of it soon enough.

Wiping his gloves and boots clean, he quickly found and dispatched a feral worgen, scratching its claws along the unconscious elf before smearing some of its blood and fur on himself and ‘hurrying’ to the Forsaken Front to find the nearest band of guards. Feigning concern, he quickly pointed down the path.

“Hurry- hurry! An old sin’dorei man was ambushed by a feral worgen- he needs medical attention!”

The few guards that did manage to care enough (largely about a returned worgen threat) to traverse down the path would find Darsamane lying in a pool of blood and spit- alive, but just barely. He was rather unceremoniously carted back to the Front, and when it was determined they lacked the services and skills needed to ensure his continued survival, it was an undead mage who seemed to take pity on the ailing man. With little word spoken, he opened a portal to Dalaran, ushering those carrying the stretcher forward. They returned soon after without the stretcher or the man, and the portal was closed. Let the living handle their own- it was better than the dead trying to save the life of a man now hanging by a thread.

By the time anyone of importance could return to further question the lone forsaken who’d made the report, he was long gone. Instead, Marne watched from the shadows of a tree-lined hill with a sadistic smile and low chuckle. Slowly, the bandanna returned to cover his lower jaw, and he slipped into the darkness.

[canaryatlaw]

Okay, so today was pretty cool. I got like, 4 hours of sleep before my alarm went off at 6:40 and I did successfully convince myself to get out of bed thankfully. My roommate never came home so her alarm was going off, but it wasn't loud or anything so I just shut it off. Got ready, ate breakfast, then went out to wait for the bus and it says it'll be here in one minute on the app.....and then it's gone. Just disappeared from the app entirely, next bus is in 20 minutes. What the fuck? Did I mention it's like 7:15 am and like 20 degrees out? Yeah, not cool. So I hang out at the bus stop for a little while longer because the app gets messed up sometimes (plan B would've had to have been get an uber if I wanted to meet my friend on time) and a few minutes later a bus is coming down the street with a different route than I've ever seen on that street before. Ooookay. But then he stops at the stop I'm at, which is only supposed to be for the 50 bus so I'm like okay....and the driver opens the doors and is like "oh this is the 50 bus!" and I'm just like.....okay! Haha willing to take it as odd as it may be. So I get on. I'm worried now though that I'll miss the second bus I was gonna take, I was supposed to have a like, 4 minute window between drop off and pick up, but now we're pushing time. So I get off at the stop, and as soon as the bus pulls away the other bus is waiting at the light on the other side of the street. This is like, not the first time this has happened to me in like that exact situation haha. I was kind of confused as to where the bus stop was at first but I figured it out so we were good to go. Just a bit west on that one, as I had already gone south as much as I needed. Dropped off under an overpass and walked like half a mile to my summer job friend's apartment where my spring break friend was staying overnight because she lives in the suburbs. This isn't the apartment I was at last night for the party, because that was the apartment of the other girl the party was for lol. So I let her know I'm outside and she comes out a few minutes later and we get going. Slight problem though, she left her glasses at the party apartment last night but that girl isn't answering her phone, but it's pretty close by and we have time so we drive by there and she tries to get buzzed in for like 5 minutes to no avail (I mean, it is like 8 am on a Saturday). So she assures me she can still actually see well enough to like drive and such haha and I assure her that I (mostly) believe her. We stop by McDonald's quickly and grab some breakfast sandwiches, then head to the site. We're going to a community center which is on the west side of Chicago. It's actually on the same street as my school, but further west. It essentially goes (moving east to west) loop (where my school is), west loop (where my church is), west side (where we are). The west loop is quite nice, but the west side is not so much, and that's where the schools are that my church supports on a regular basis. They do work with another community center not far from there but in another neighborhood that's quite nice as well. We didn't get into it but I had a feeling this one was Catholic run, being that they already had an association with my school and there was some stuff about the "Vincentian" mission which is a big thing at my school as far as catholic social justice goes (Vincent DePaul was a saint I think that the school's named after). But yeah, it was pretty nice. We get lead to this big gym that's been set up with different tables set up around the perimeter with different craft options and such, so they take us around and tell us what the deal is and then tell us we can pick wherever we want to go. There was a cute guy that joined us at one point I was hoping to get to work with, but he went to the dream catcher station but I know I'm so hopelessly unartistic that there was no chance I'd be able to do that, so I instead opted for the table next to them, which was the "slime" station, where we, you guessed it, made slime (which is apparently a big thing with the kids these days). So we have a huge thing of elmers glue and like 3 boxes of borax, and they're like "yeah we don't know the exact formula can you find out??" So I google it on my phone and it's pretty simple, just those two ingredients and water, so they get me a bucket of water and I make a test batch, and I immediately figure out this is going to be very, very messy. I was already trying to figure out just which steps I could actually let the kids do, I didn't want them to touch the borax because it is a chemical and I didn't want anyone to like get it on their skin and irritate it. So I ask for an empty bucket to put the leftover refuse water in, and a lot of paper towels haha which they come through with, along with two big bottles of red and blue food coloring. Alright, cool. At this point a few kids have begun trickling in, and one boy plants himself in a chair next to me and decides he's going to be my assistant, and I certainly wasn't going to refuse the help because I had the feeling things were going to get pretty crazy (spoiler alert: I was right). So we made another few test batches to try and get the formula right, but still kind of end up with leftover gross water, but whatever. So we work out a plan, each kid gets two bowls, and depending on how old they are they can either pour water from the pitcher into the 1/2 cup measurement and put it in the bowl or hold the 1/2 cup measure while I pour water into it and then pour it into the bowl. Trying to be as mess free as possible, but of course it still happened. I then gave them half a teaspoon of borax and handed them a spoon and asked them to stir. I then took the giant bottle of glue and the 1/4 cup measure and use that to put glue into the second bowl. I would've let the kids do this themselves, but the bottle of glue was like ridiculously heavy and I just did not see that going well. At this point if they wanted to add a color, red, blue, purple, or just plain white, they could add that to the glue, then add a 1/4 cup of water and mix it until it's homogenous (I obviously didn't use that word in explaining it) then pour that mixture into the water and borax one, and ta-da! You have instant slime that you just need to pull out of the water and you're good to go! Of course the elasticity and consistency of it varies depending on just how much of the different ingredients got into that batch, but most of it came out quite well. And it was very popular, we were swamped pretty much the whole time and I tried my best to clean as we went, but especially with the food coloring there was basically just a giant mess everywhere. It also didn't help that the food coloring came off on the kids hands when they were playing with it (someone didn't think that one through all the way). We had gloves for the actual process, but at some point those ran out and mine were so covered in dye it was cross contaminated other kids' stuff, so I had to abandon them and just get my hands really really stained with food coloring haha. By the end of the 2 and a half hours I was really tired, both from lack of sleep and just activity, so I was definitely ready to be done by the time we wrapped up. I did make a purple batch for myself to take home, but sadly the consistency didn't come out all that great. But we got lunch with everybody, hot dogs, then we all got in a circle and talked about MLK Jr. (because his was the MLK Jr peace rally) and such and ended in a very sweet prayer. At the end the boy who was helping me asked to take a picture with me, a that made me happy. He was a cute kid, very sweet. As everyone was dispersing we went upstairs with the director of the program and some girls from the program, ranging in age from like 14-28 and just talked about their experiences growing up in the neighborhood and the losses they've had to endure, and there were so many- dads, uncles, cousins, everyone had someone ripped away from them at the hands of violence. Just yesterday they had buried a 17 year old boy who was in the program and the cousin of one of the girls, who just made a few poor choices and his life was snuffed out just like that. And like, a lot of it they seemed kind of resigned to, just that this is their existence, and I thought that was so sad. The program is really helping keep them off the streets and propelled towards a successful future though, the oldest girl is going for her master's in social work and several others were either in college or in a charter high school. So it was definitely interesting to hear such perspectives on the issues within our city. After that we headed out, I waited for the bus for like 10 minutes and talked to a 1L that was waiting with me. Took that a bit east, then picked the 50 bus back up and rode that home, getting back around 3 o clock. I immediately got laundry started and turned on daredevil. Normally I would start reading today because it looks like that's how it will have to be this semester, but given we have Monday off (and no reading for the Monday scheduled class) the next two days should give me plenty of time to do so. So I mostly relaxed and did laundry. My roommate came home at some point and watched daredevil with me for a while, then after a few episodes (and 3 loads of laundry) she turned on a movie called John Wick I believe which I somewhat watched while making a full meal dinner for leftover purposes during the week. After that we watched a few episodes of chrisley knows best just because it is such an absurd and amusing show, and then we watched 400 days because we were talking about it and seemed like a good choice. I was much less on edge this time since I knew what to expect and I knew that ultimately it didn't really contain anything scary, so I definitely enjoyed it more this time around. And yeah, that was about it, and I got random different things done off my to do list while doing all of this. Tomorrow should be interesting, I'm gonna try really really hard to convince myself to get out of bed at 7:30 instead of my usual 9 so I can go to the 9:30 service instead of the 11. The reason is I'm signed up for the nursery at the 11, but I'm the only one signed up, and there's only one person signed up for the 12:30 after that, so if I'm in the nursery for the 11 I may end up staying for the 12:30 and miss the actual service, and being that I did that for like the two weeks prior to break and then was away for 3 Sundays I really want to be in the service because I honestly missed it so much. So I'm gonna try really really hard, but I know when discretion is involved to some extent I have like zero willpower when it comes to getting up in the morning....but again, I'm gonna try really really hard. Stay tuned for updates in the morning, lol. But until then. Goodnight mah people. Hope you had a lovely Saturday.