#hob goblin is a perfect name

[luimagines]

Do I kinda may have kept both kittens so allow me to reintroduce my two new babies hob goblin (hob for short) is the full orange one and cheeto lay (cheets for short) is the orange and white one they are both massive little cuddle bugs and they purr so freaking loud lol I love them so much and imso happy to have all four of my babies

BABIES!!!

They're so cute!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍

[bisekcual]

Rue ends up being someone a lot of people seek out when they're looking to drop their glamour, or even by people who feel the need to defend using their glamour. They explain how they aren't against glamours, just against them being forced onto people, being used to reshape people against who they are.

rue's seen another form of glamorwork before! namely, the glamor crafters of the court of hoof and claw understand glamor in a much healthier way. we see this in wuvvy. i'm gonna defer to what conrad @obeetlebeetle said about this before, because oh my god his mind:

rue selecting a glamor that is thin, elfen, and beautiful: i thought it would get them to accept me. the goblins creating hob: i thought it would help me last a little longer. both rue and kp living for millennia in bodies that were designed by them (knowingly or not) to better suit and serve their court’s interests. whereas wuvvy IS a shapeshifter, slipping between forms to suit her needs because that’s a gift her body offers her; thinking abt how fun she finds glamours, how her different forms can overlap (satyr eyes in her feral face), how the only time she is asked by someone else to shift (the white hind) she puts strict conditions on it – wuvvy loves her changing shape bc she dictates the changes and she doesn’t pin her identity on any one form.

glamor and shifting of shape as something joyful and life-affirming is something that many fey in the wilds have actually a firm grasp on. the difference is that for the fey in the court of wonder, there's such a strict understanding of what is allowed to be exist and be seen, that glamorwork as a craft has been warped far beyond what it might have once been for the wonder fey that practice it. i touch on this briefly in just before devotion, too:

the difference between rue and wuvvy is that wuvvy's using her little satyr form as a tool in the court of wonder, the same way she views all her other forms as a tool. they all have their uses, and they're all her, and she's never been made to feel like any one of them is inferior to the other. her satyr form is useful because it's quick-footed and tiny, which means it's agile, perfect for the fast work of bloom-tending. but she loves her feral form equally as much, because she feels strong when she wears it, protective and powerful. we only saw one of her actual glamors over the course of the canon show, but she engages with it gleefully. that elven woman is her, too, and it's no more or less her, no better or worse, than her other forms.

that's an extremely healthy relationship to have with shape-shifting and glamorwork, and it's because she's from a court that is formed specifically around that kind of magic. it's unlikely that anyone in the court of wonder remembers how to view glamor this way. ideally, they would have a lot to learn from their kin in the court of hoof and claw; but the court of wonder has been shown to be too proud for that. not for nothing, their obsession with glamor itself comes from a desire to be presentable in front of other courts (and even in front of each other in the court of wonder - people in that court likely haven't actually trusted each other in eons). to defer to anyone else's expertise in matters of magic would go directly against the cultivated air of omnimastery that their flawed understanding of glamor has been used to create.

it would likely be only after the changes enacted by the pack of pixies that some fey in the court of wonder would feel bold enough to seek out other philosophies of magic, and it would probably take changes even more radical than what have already happened for the arch fey in the court of wonder to start to acknowledge that something's gone wrong, been wrong for a long, long time.

[dndeed]

Critical Role Miniature Rollout C2E53

With Andrew Harshman

An archive and review of the minis used on Critical Role.

I’m digging the city of beasts. I’m digging the NPCs, the story developments, and of course the minis. Quite a bit of miniature content to cover in episode 53. There are a couple items I was unable to identify conclusively. The high back wooden chairs throughout the tavern and one goblin near the bar who is just barely visible in two camera angles. But that still leaves us with plenty of new minis to go over.

Jump into the pit and prepare to test your meddle, it’s time for Critical Role Miniature Rollout Campaign 2 Episode 53!

The List

Mats by Mars: Swamplands

Dungeons and Dragons Condition Markers by thelukec

Dwarven Forge Round Table with LED Candle

Dwarven Forge Stool

Dwarven Forge City Builder Tudor Set

Dwarven Forge Wicked City Smuggler’s Wagon

Dwarven Forge Wicked City Water Barrel

Dwarven Forge Tavern Accessories Add-On Pack

Dwarven Forge Medieval Furniture Furniture

Miniature Building Authority Corner House with Turret

Miniature Building Authority Corner Townhouse

Miniature Building Authority Witt House

Safari Ltd Civil War’s Officer’s Tent

TableTop Props Tent

Rusty Dragon Inn Dressing: Cart

Rusty Dragon Inn Dressing: Barrel

Mantic Games Terrain Crate Dungeon Debris Barrels

Mantic Games Terrain Crate Dungeon Debris Crates

Icons of the Realms Adventurer’s Camp Keg

Tiny Furniture Wooden Table

Legendary Realms Wooden Large Open Crate

Steamforged Games Critical Role Miniatures

Prototype Steamforged Games Critical Role Miniatures

Dangerous Delves #20 Gnoll Hunt Master

Monster Menagerie 2 #012 Bugbear

Modified Reaper Miniatures Red Mantis Assassin

Elemental Evil #022 Gnoll Fighter

Monster Menagerie 2 #020a Gnoll

Elemental Evil #025 Ogre 

Monster Menagerie 3 #020a Dragonborn Fighter

Tyranny of Dragons #010 Orc Fighter

Rage of Demons #012 Hobgoblin Soldier

Underdark #53 Lolth's Sting

Rise of the Runelords #033 Ogre

Lost Coast #002 Goblin Druid

We Be Goblins #002 Goblin Hero

We Be Goblins #012 Chuffy Lickwound

Unknown High Back Wooden Chair

The NPCs

Dairon Underdark #53 Lolth's Sting

The first rule of drow sword fencing is to lead with your face, as demonstrated by this figure. This is the kinda drow I’m talkin’ about! Good ol’ fashioned D&D Miniatures Game era drow. Unfortunately, this is about the worst example I could have hoped for to contrast the Icons of the Realms and DDM drow minis. At a distance this figure isn’t so hot. A majorly basic and unflattering paint job. But the sculpt is solid and nicely detailed. Sadly the black obscures much of said details. But the pose is very energetic and most appropriate for this action packed scene.

The Monsters Citizens

Loads of goblinoids in this episode, let’s lightning round em’.

Pryomaniac Goblin Lost Coast #002 Goblin Druid Mini image sourced from minisgallery.com

Fun crazed goblin miniature. The red eyes really pop, it’s almost as if the fire is reflecting in them. 

Goblin Fight Club Enthusiast We Be Goblins #002 Goblin Hero

This sculpt is like a refined version of the first Pathfinder Battles goblins. A very cute getup and a very handsome miniature.

Goblin with the Greatest Name Ever We Be Goblins #012 Chuffy Lickwound

Now that’s a name! And this mini lives up to it’s title. His menacing smile and imposing stance is most impressive.

Goblin of the Hob Variety Rage of Demons #012 Hobgoblin Soldier

A fine hobgoblin figure. Only issue is that his hair totally envelops his head, making it look kinda like some sorta hobgoblin hair helmet.

Ogre Rise of the Runelords #033 Ogre

Two ogres are present in The Four Corners, which I assume is part of some city ordinance, for every 2 corners in the city there must be 1 ogre. 2:1 corner ogre ratio shall be maintained at all times within city limits. One new ogre here and one returning, having previously appeared in C2E19.

Pathfinder has pretty distinct and identifiable monster designs. Their ogres have a certain devious cleverness to their facial features and expressions. This is portrayed quite well in this very well painted figure. Even though he’s smaller than the D&D ogre miniature in this scene, I find Rise of the Runelords #033 Ogre to be more threatening, a testament to the quality of the mini. 

Dragonborn Patron Monster Menagerie 3 #020a Dragonborn Fighter

Why’s this dude have a shield equipped? I suppose he’s gearing up to get into the gravel. And yet he doesn’t get in on the fight. Maybe he’s just working up the courage? Hopefully he’ll get over his shieldbashfulness. He can do it, I believe in him! I’m already very invested in this subplot that I just concocted by overanalyzing the miniature choices. Anyway, this mini is kinda mediocre. 

Both the sculpt clarity and paint are muddled. This is another one of those really poorly thought out Icons of the Realms alternate miniatures. There are two version of this mini, one with a sword and the other with an axe and subtly different color scheme. Why it seems to me that this is a perfect opportunity to offer players two different dragonborn scale colors. Nope, they are both orange. I suppose the axe version is more of a rust color, but it’s still in the orange vein. What a waste. 

Even worse, the other dragonborn mini available from Icons of the Realms is also orange. And also is part of a alternate pair. Two models both with alternates for a total of four existing dragonborn miniatures, all of which are the same general color. Such an awful decision to make all of them the same gross road safety shade of orange. Fortunately, there are three halfdragon Icons of the Realms minis that offer black, gold, and red options.

If you want a better dragonborn you either have to paint it yourself or delve into the DDM back catalog. Very inconvenient. 

Orc Patron Tyranny of Dragons #010 Orc Fighter

A pretty good orc. A little cartoony, a little oversized, but pretty good. You can tell what this mini is from afar and the sculpt resolution is solid. He’s got some fun little design details, neato looking axe, skull dangling from his weapon, cutesy orc suspenders -and what’s this?! His hair... yet again the recurring ponytail with shaved sides of the head look. That’s four figures now in Campaign 2 with this doo. Get this to the wiki! The “evidence” is mounting that this is an official campaign setting haircut.

The Terrain

A real cool map this week. The background buildings from Miniature Building Authority were a brilliant addition to the urban setup.

Asarius, the City of Beasts Mats by Mars: Swamplands

This map is impressively versatile. It flawlessly represents a swampy area, but at the same time, throw a couple of building on it and it’s suddenly a city center. Many uses, grand piece of battle mat cartography.

Closing Remarks and Predictions

Still thirsty for drow figures. Hoping to see some more in episode 54. If we can be patient, I am confident Lolth will provide.

#criticalroleminiaturerollout

[abstracthappiness]

microfiction, November 13 - 19

The green ones went first, then red, then blue. Little flower fairies pirouetting over the baby girl’s head. When the father checked on his daughter, he couldn’t see them properly—little lights, fireflies darting out the window. She giggled, and he wondered why.

-

Deep in the north, abandoned by your team, you find the last Direwolf—long thought to be extinct, lost to legend. But this beast is not a myth, or the subject of a research paper; it is an animal, and it is hungry, and it is very real when its jaws crack your bones.

-

Magic is outlawed here; the smallest spell can get you arrested. After his bail was paid, a Watcher was assigned to my brother “for the public’s safety”. This occult parole officer had a fake name, a friendly smile—and if I didn’t kill him, he’d kill us first.

-

We fell through the mirror—shattering, atomized, particles screaming—until we reformed on the other side, puzzle-pieced together. I had one of your eyes, your freckles, half my hair was your dark frizz. You had my hands, my pierced ears looking strange framing your face.

-

It was far from a perfect kiss, squatting six feet deep, coffin creaking under their boots. Above, the grave robber wielded his shovel, stomping about. “You have,” she hissed between stolen kisses, “the worst timing.” He grinned against her dirty cheek.

-

That summer, I knew a girl named Nebula, who loved the stars more than anything else. She said she came from the stars, that one day she’d go back. I thought she was making a Sagan reference. But she was perfectly literal—when the time came, she wanted me to go with her.

-

Lightning strikes, the cathedral spires a stark black against stormy skies. Two figures hurry through empty streets to the barred door. A whispered word charges the air, and the lock clicks open. Inside, a voice speaks from the shadows: “You’re late.”

-

The Lady’s bower smelt of blood, of roses. He entered silently, holding a silver blade and a wooden stake. She was sprawled upon silk sheets, red eyes watching his approach. “Well, Hunter? Will you kill me tonight, or join me in bed one last time?”

-

Adam didn’t want to move—he hated his stepfather’s creepy house, hated his weird stepbrother. One night he saw Lars go into a secret room between floors—surrounded by occult symbols, he summoned his mother’s ghost. Adam pushed into the room and said, “Teach me.”

-

She froze at his command to undress. “My Lord, the scars on my back are…unsightly. You don’t want to see—” “You think I am without scars? After all I’ve told you? Show me this unsightliness, the ugly side of your body and soul. I’ll show you mine in turn.”

-

Marta was a sturdy sort of girl. Solid as a rock, they said, strong as an ox. She laughed when she told her mother of these comparisons. “Imagine! They speak of oxen and rocks when I know very well you created me out of stag bones, and good river clay!”

-

“Can you say you’ve led a life well-lived? Thieving and whoring yourself out to the highest bidder? What about serving a worthy cause, for queen and county?” Cass told the Captain where he could shove his queen and country. “Right—then how about saving your own skin?”

-

They’d heard the portal’s guardian was quirky but hadn’t been expecting…this. “Welcome to the The Dismal Arch, your gateway to alternate dimensions! Payment up front—if you offer that Bitcoin shit, your friendly tollkeeper is at liberty to shoot you.”

-

A little gargoyle girl perches on top of the pedestal, watching the hobs and gremlins and fae cavort below. “Do you ever wish to join them?” the Goblin King asks. She tests the chains holding her fast, pierced through her stone skin. “Do not mock me,” she snarls.

-

They thought her a well-behaved girl, but really she was a forest—ready to rip apart at the seams. Stains of moss and dirt. Roots and thorns tripping, ripping. Rotten fruit and crackling leaves. Skittering beetles and cackling crows— Too wild to catch, too wild to hold.

//

read more on twitter: kattra | prompts: FromOneLine / vssNature / vss365 / vssMagic / WeirdMicro / GothicMicro / vssHauntedHouse / whistpr / SciFiFri / 2WordPrompt

[heyo-silver]

Lies//Spock

Summary: You had thought he was never there, turns out he was.

Request: ( @g00dl13 ) Hello can you please write a story about Reader and Spock.... Reader having feelings for him but she thinks Spock likes Uhara...SO she confesses to Bones but Spock hears it.. I’ll leave it up to you if they end up together

A/N: SORRY FOR SPELLING ERRORS I GOT TOO EXCITED ABOUT THIS GUYS. Guys my requests are open, send ‘em in! Also, i used the word said *GASP*

MASTERLIST

/\//\//\//\//\//\//\/

Space. 

Something very dangerous yet, breathtaking. The USS Enterprise had already taken it’s maiden voyage. We were set on a new mission. Five years in deep space. Correction, five years in space with my friends. Another correction, five years in DEEP space with my friends and in explored planets. How cool was that?! At first, for a botanist , was somewhat uneventful. There were planets that were already explored, of course we got some sample that we could study for the time being, but everything was calm. As they always say, “ The calm before the storm”. Well, the storm was the science division workers started kissing up to our supervisors, trying to get on the list of the away team when an adventure did come along. But, kissing up to a tall, emotionless Vulcan is not a very good mixture. You don’t need to be a chemist to figure that out. Every time I tried to do something nice I felt like I was trying harder and harder without knowing. Something would grow in my stomach every time he congratulated me on my work. Or, when he talked to me, or when he asked me something. Even the simplest things. Then when I see Uhara looking at him, I ask myself why I even try.

Not even a year into the long voyage we had found our first unexplored planet. It was a class M planet, nothing very special, but the science teams were still very excited. All of us. I mean, it was out first undiscovered planet. What would be there? The chatter around the tables at lunch were low, but the silence spoke volumes. When the teams were finally assembled, I found names on the list that had no reason to be there. Some, that should have been on the list, weren’t on it. Like me. Why wasn’t I on the list but Lieutenant Uhara was on the list. I mean come on! The only reason she was on it is because the First office of this damn ship liked her. Why do we need so many translators and security on an away team and only three science officers with them. Why? What was the point?

“Lieutenant (L/N),” a voice spoke, “you seem upset by something.” I didn’t look up at him. I just started at the tablet I held in my hands.

“Yeah, actually, I am.” I spoke up. I looked up at him for just a second than turned back to my tablet. “This planet is label peaceful but we have three security officers on the mission. Why?” I handed him the tablet to let him take a look that the list of officers. 

“It’s seems as though you are correct Lieutenant. I will have a talk with the Captain before they leave tomorrow afternoon.” He handed the glass piece back to me and walked off. 

“Really Commander! There’s no need!” I yelled. I sighed as I saw his figure turn the corner. He probably had better thing to do than talk to me.

/\//\//\/

I checked the PADD tablet the rested on the counter. I had a few notifications, one for my check up that I needed, one was a notification from Commander Spock. I set my cup down on the counter. He told me to check the away list once more. I picked up the glass piece and opened up the file again. The list had been updated to include more science officers and less security and translators. Uhara was no longer on the list. 

Why? What in the hecking heck was going on? Does this mean he talked to the Captain? Why had he listened to me?  Most importantly, why was I on the list now?!

I was so confused. What was happening? WHY was it happening? 

Excitement took over ever part of my body as I thought about it. I was going to an unexplored planet, this was the best feeling in the world. I was so happy. Confusion took over not too longer later. Well, it took over again, I should say.

Did he do it for me?

This question ran through my mind a million times, like a train over and over again. This was so, ah what’s the word, baffled. I didn’t know what I was suppose to be feeling. Was I suppose to be happy, excited, loved, proud? Why wasn’t I feeling all of them? Spock had talked to the Captain because I had brought it up to him. Maybe he did it because it was wrong. Maybe he didn’t even do it for me. Spock might have not even done it. So why was all the equations running through my head involving him AND I. I needed to stop letting my heart run my head.

My PADD ringing again shook me out of my fit I was having. I looked down at the screen and saw a notice from Doctor McCoy. I was needed in the Med Bay for my checkup. I grabbed my cup from the counter and took a sip before leaving my room.

/\//\//\/

“Hey, you okay? You seem a bit out of it today.” Bones asked me as he set something back down on the table. I thought for a moment. Trying to grasp the words to explain what I was feeling. 

“No, actually.” I chuckled. I glanced up at him. “It’s Spock.” Bones face fell. 

“What did that hob-goblin do this time?” He inquired. 

“Something nice,” I paused. Bones looked taken aback by what I had said, “but I don’t know how to feel about it.” I told him. He had grabbed a chair and pulled it next to the medical bed. 

“Well, I’m not a professional physiatrists, but tell me about it.” He said. I shifted in my seat. 

“Well, it’s kind of weird.” I pulled one of my legs onto the bed. “So it started when everyone was trying to get on the list for this away mission. Everyone was trying to impress the superiors to get on the mission, but I have Spock as my superior so it was kind of hard to get on his good side. Considering he doesn’t have a good side. I was trying my best but half of the time I feel like he doesn’t see me because he’s too busy looking at Uhara.”” I paused and took a breath. “I didn’t end up on the list, but there was something wrong with it so I brought it up to Spock, he told me he would talk to the captain about it and the next morning I was fixed. I was on the list but I have no idea if it was his doing or not.” I sighed. “I don’t know if he did it because he might have a small potion that actually cares for me or if he just needed to fix it because he’s, him!” I ended the long monologue with a frustrated breath out. 

“Well, why do you think he did it?” Bones asked simply.

“Half of me wants to believe it’s because it was a mistake he wanted to fix.”

“What about the other half of you?” The grumpy doctor’s usual, well grumpy, wall had broken for a second.

“That he did it because it was bothering me.”

/\//\//\/

“Lieutenant,” I didn’t turn to meet his face, “may I please speak with you for a moment?” My eyes didn’t move from the eye piece on the microscope. 

“Now’s not a very good time Spock.” I spoke lowly, still trying to concentrate on focusing the view of the plate. 

“Lieutenant, I believe you can come back to the project as soon as we are finished.” This comments make me turn to him. 

“Okay, please, make it quick.” I told him. His hands were still clasped behind his back and his back was in a perfect line as usual. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation that you and Doctor McCoy were having in the Med Bay earlier today.” He spoke. All of a sudden everything stilled. He heard me, talking about him. No, talking about how I loved him. This was not happening. It had to have been a dream. Any moment now I would snap away and everything would be normal. Alas, no such thing like this happened. 

“I wanted to inform you that Lieutenant Uhara and I have never had any such interaction with one another like you were suggesting to Doctor McCoy.” My mind was still tense as he spoke. What if that was the only part of your conversation he heard?

“And, with that I would also inquire if you would like to have a meal in my quarters, tomorrow night.” My body went from on edge to surprise rather quickly. My mind stuttered as it tried to piece together what he was saying.

“Um, wait a minute. Spock,” I paused to think about what I was gonna say, “are you asking me on a date?” I defiantly could have worded that better than I did. His stance shifted for a moment before he spoke again. 

“Yes, I believe so.” His voice did not have as much confidence as before, but it was still strong. “So will you be joining me?” He asked after a moment of silence. 

“Yes, absolutely.” 

[recentanimenews]

TenSura – 04 – Shelter, Clothes, and Elves

After Ranga assures Rimuru that he harbors no grudge against him (being given a name counts for a lot in this world), His small band of wolves and goblins races to the dwarven city of Dwargon, where Rimuru hopes to find some cute and/or sexy elves.

Only he and Gobta (the only goblin who didn’t evolve) join the queue that leads through the gates, but they’re quickly harrassed by bullies. Rimuru transforms into a storm wolf but his foes have a whole party of various jobs who attack him all at once…to no effect. Rimuru counterattacks with Menace, and causes a lot more collateral damange than he intended.

For that, he and Gobta are granted entry into the city…’s jail. However, when the warden needs potion after an emergency in the mines, Rimuru fills an entire barrel with the stuff, saving the warden’s three best friends and earning him an early release.

From there, the warden takes him to his brother Kaijin’s blacksmith’s shop. Kaijin has fallen behind on an unreasonable longsword order, but once again Rimuru provides what is needed: first refined magisteel, and then nineteen perfect copies of the one sword Kaijin has completed.

Rimuru and the dwarves celebrate by paying a visit to a kind of elven hostess club, where they’re surrounded by beauties. Oh, and it would seem Rimuru will get the know-how he needs to shelter and clothe his  (hob)goblin village. Everything is looking up!…but for the ominous planting of a boot outside the club. Could it be somebody strong enough to make Rimuru to break a sweat?

By: magicalchurlsukui

[audreyprovostya]

Hello! Today, we’re going to take a look at The Cruel Prince by Holly Black! This is a dark fantasy filled to the brim with themes of murder, family, secret plots, mystery, and hatred. Just my cup of tea. 

Jude Duarte was living a normal childhood in suburbia when a mysterious stranger arrived and murdered her parents, driving a stick right into the course of what would have been a typical life. The mysterious man, a faerie warrior named Madoc, took it upon himself to raise Jude and her sisters as his own. Thus, they were spirited away to the magical, yet sinister land of Faerie. Growing up, this has always put Jude at odds with the other Faeries, especially the cruel Prince Cardan. But Jude is determined to find her place among their ranks no matter what he does. She’ll do whatever it takes to get the power and influence she’s so craved. But she may not like the costs. 

The strongest aspect of this story was its plot. At first, it presents itself as a schoolyard romance; a set of petty squabbles between two enemies blooms into an unlikely love. But when I read further in, the story took a dangerous turn for the political. Suddenly, the stakes were higher, and the world was much bigger and more terrifying. As I read on, I watched Jude slowly uncover a deeply ingrained backstory that would have tremendous implications for her future. I loved watching the pieces fall into place and I got a little thrill each time something clicked in my head. It led up to a heart-stopping climax that had me shouting out loud. When all was said and done and the dust had settled, Black tied all the knots of the current plot while also leaving questions for the next book. 

Speaking of the protagonist, I really admired her. Jude isn’t perfect. She isn’t even really good. Yet I rooted for her the whole way. She expected to become a servant to faerie by being an honorable knight but ended up trying to change it by manipulating and murdering her way there. 

Of course, we can’t go on without mentioning the titular cruel prince. Jude attends classes with Prince Cardan, sixth in line for the throne of Faerie. He is, as the title suggests, cruel. Jude later makes it her goal to defy Cardan at every turn, both for the sake of her own pride and because she’s sick of his treatment toward her, a very appropriate response, and one I wholeheartedly backed. Through the first half of the book, Cardan’s a pretty static character. Black cleverly keeps the relationship full of strife by flipping the roles. Allowing to highlights Jude’s faults as well. She revels in Cardan’s powerlessness. Still, I think there should have been more development for Cardan in the first half, so he wasn’t so static. His arc started a little late, but it could have been moved to be parallel with Jude’s to make it more meaningful. 

Where Black’s writing shines is in the complexities of her relationships within the story. No single person is right or wrong. 

think he should have had a more complicated motivation considering his connection to the plot concerning the death of his mother. Maybe it was to highlight Cardan’s complexity by making him simple. But considering his relationship with Taryn and how he acted behind the scenes as Jude would later discover, I think it would have been worth exploring. At the same time, I also liked that Black made it seem like something was off between Locke and Jude from the start. It seemed like he was doing all the work in the relationship by doting on her when she was so unsure of herself. 

Jude’s relationship with her sisters isn’t perfect, but it’s real (being someone with a sister myself). But the way the twins go about it is the source of their conflict. Taryn is more content to keep her head down and please her way into the fairy court. But Jude wanted to show off her skill. And yet while Black clearly writes them as different, there are some jarring similarities that Jude would rather not dwell on. 

Jude’s relationship with Madoc is also important to her character arc. He acts like a father to her, but neither can truly wipe away the past. Madoc is both Jude’s enemy but also her hero. Madoc loves her, but it’s not a human love. 

I would have liked to see more of Dain’s Court of Shadows, of which Jude later becomes a part. It only consists of three other spy faeries. I would have loved to see more interaction between them; more camaraderie. It would have also given Jude room to think about the unexpected trajectory of her quest.  

 I also liked the relationship between Jude and Oriana, Madoc’s wife, who seemed like an evil stepmother archetype. But her story is far more complicated and she becomes less of a one-dimensional villain after our pretty young protagonist and more of a real person. 

While Black’s characters were well written, her world was equally complex. Her prose is wonderful, and she uses it to spin a dark, creepy fairy world with some traditional folklore to boot. All around Jude are creatures like imps, pixies, hobs, goblins, grigs, witches, water nymphs, and all sorts of creepy creatures with fangs, horns, and wings, but none with completely good intentions. I’ll provide an example of one of Black’s fantastic descriptions, where her exceptional syntax and diction really come into play. 

The magic system is also well written. While not explicitly organized and set in stone like the magic systems of other stories, there are clever nods to traditional fairy folklore that Black incorporates into the magic of her world. Rowanberry necklaces keep mortals from being enchanted, oils help them see through glamours, inside-out stocking helps them navigate dark forests. Faeries also can’t lie and magic plays a role in the plot. 

The story has so many different dimensions to it. Even the title is complicated. The Cruel Prince can be a nod to more than one character. I think this idea encompasses the overall aspect of this book that I like. It isn’t what it seems. It presents itself as one thing, but then as you read on, everything gets more complicated. In Jude’s world, she learns that nothing is black and white anymore, and everything has consequences. If you want to try it out yourself, I wholly recommend it. 

Here’s Black’s site: https://blackholly.com/

[chaosunit0010]

DNDartober 2020

Here are the results of an October art prompt that I did for the entire month, created by Hugo Cardenas. This was a huge undertaking for me, testing my patience, adhd and consistency as an artist. All of these characters and items are going to be added to my DND campaign I'm running, to help flesh out the world some more.

DNDartober Day 1: Ex-Adventurer May I Present Clementine Soul Heart, renowned Artificer and Adventurer. Author of many books on magic theory, history of ancient civilizations and survival techniques.

DNDartober Day 2: Wandering Knight Spencer does not have a kingdom, nor a master, not much of anything to be honest. He woke with this armor and assumed he was knight, but no memory of who he was. Just a name Spencer.

DNDartober Day 3: Orc Hero Targhed a Barbarian chasing the dream of being a paladin. He's not the smartest man around, but he has a heart of gold and a desire to protect others no matter the cost.

DNDartober Day 4: Exiled Wizard Rodun was once the weakest of his tribe, living off his people's scraps. Until one day he came across a mysterious staff that granted him incredible intelligence. But the transformation led to his exile.

DNDartober Day 5: Deal Maker Devil Conroy is a slick demon, wandering the slums of the material plane talking up people down and out on their luck at a chance at a new life. Only to start a new life as his servant.

DNDartober Day 7: Sentient Weapon Forged from the broken armor of the Revenant that had chased down a legendary hero for many months. This blade wields his undying rage.

DNDartober Day 8: Troll Boss Grush was enslaved as a child by a cruel human master, forced to fight and kill for his master's enjoyment and to his suffering. But he learned while surrounded by the humans and then he became the master.

DNDartober Day 9: Info Broker Flinch was a githyanki adventurer, before receiving a brain injury from an illithid that left him with a permanent anxiety and a twitch. Now he trades for info so other people can get hurt rather than him.

DNDartober Day 10: Chromatic Dragon/Human Horizon was is the son of a Bronze and Red dragon that fought alongside a group of legendary heroes. Their hope was their son would unite all dragons to ensure their future of their race and the world.

DNDartober Day 12: Druid Des grew up in a village surrounded by untamed and ferocious lands. Filled with all manner of great and terrible beasts. One day she grew a connection with the land and beasts and learned the cycle of life and beasts.

DNDartober Day 13: Kobold Team Viss was once a common kobold living in the slums of a city, until she fell into aa deep despair. In the moment she stared into the void and it touched her granting her new insight. Now she has a new purpose.

DNDartober Day 14: Cursed Weapon Long ago a cruel and wicked Yuan Ti King conquered a rival kingdom and took all its people. The kings scarified their souls to empower a weapon that would lead to total control, only to die from its scorn.

DNDartober Day 15: Old rogue Mercenary Joe is old and with that comes experience and knowledge. As well as weapons and a tool for any situation. He didn't make it this long with dumb luck.

DNDartober Day 16: Thief Guild Leader Gold, street urchin turned, turned mastermind. He spent his days on cons in the pursuit of riches. But one faithful encounter would make him a legend.

DNDartober Day 17: Evil Wizard The Lord of Greed was once a powerful wizard ruling over the seas of his world. Until a great conqueror arrived on the world to take total control of it. And made this man into his new general, The Lord of Greed.

DNDartober Day 19: Magic Store Owner Owner of Black Water Oddities traveling emporium, Drench wanders the planes with his crew buying and selling magic items and relics for his patron to categories and research.

DNDartober Day 20: Metallic Dragon Human Form Zena is the older sister and bodyguard of her brother Horizon. Protecting him while on his mission to unite all of dragon kind under a common banner. Always prepared for any danger.

DNDartober Day 21: Parasite Weapon Ravager's Wrath was weapon from the remains of a ancient Barbarian Champion, mutated and modified to be a perfect warrior. Now this weapon strips it's wielder of blood in exchange of terrible power.

DNDartober Day 22: Shamed Hob Goblin Uzul was one the greatest Champion of his clan, which had conquered everyone of it's enemies and had become the biggest clan in the land. Until he lost his hand and leg in a duel and was exiled.  

DNDartober Day 23: Pirate Captain Sorgun is a member of the Groon, a race of ape like humanoids that have spent their existence amongst nature. Until war came to their land and were thrown into a new world and for him its opportunity.  

DNDartober Day 24: OG Monster Species The Ravager is the product of a virus, that infects and forces its victim into a terrible metamorphosis. Turning the host into a monster that thrives of violence and strength. Always hungry and evolving.

DNDartober Day 26: Traveling Bard Stripped of her name and family, Dorothy was exiled into a strange new world. Her journey as a bard collecting and retelling stories and tall tales. Using them to give people hope and strength.  

DNDartober Day 27: Lizardman Deserter Broken is a curious lizardman asking question about everything. Always wanting to learn more about world until he met humans and learn about emotions and decided he wanted and left to find emotions.  

DNDartober Day 28: Fragmented Weapon Heaven's Guard, the once proud spear of a divine guard. Left in ruin, shattered, waiting for the day it will be rebuilt.  

DNDartober Day 29: Hag Merchant Elsa is a wanderer, really has no place to call home and prefers it like that. She enjoys exploring new places and meeting new people. As well as collecting new trinkets for her collection.  

DNDartober Day 30: Head Hunter Sass a curious bird with a talent for hunting and a love for trinkets, specifically trinkets from the people she has captured or killed.  

DNDartober Day 31: Unique Monster The Horned Guardian, child of divine and fiendish union. He is the sworn protector of the world of Serune. Willing to do whatever it takes to protect the world and her people.

[asheva]

A New Soul

What happens to her happens to him. But what if this worked for any strong physical sensation, not just pain? Alternatively, a certain changeling learns a lesson in love. Set during Roaming Charges May Apply.

Read it at my AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332195) or below.

The abandoned hallways of Arcadia Oaks High — eerie in the dappled darkness of a waning moon — were perfect for his jaunts. Sometimes, one just had to have a…change of scenery. Strickler relishes the sensations of his true form, feeling stronger than he had for days. His clawed feet make a pleasant clack on the worn vinyl as he stretches his legs to their full stride. It was risky exposing himself, given the chance of tardy cleaners or one of the teachers returning, but such was his mood tonight.

He brushes his steel mantle lightly, fingers testing each edge, carefully as not to cut, before selecting the sharpest of his knives. With a lazy flick, he lodges it in a nearby poster. The keen blade neatly cleaves the love-struck Romeo in half. How appropriate, given the current situation. He went to all the trouble of raising a powerful troll assassin and yet the boy still lived! While Strickler could appreciate Angor’s strategy of patient study — far superior to Bular’s brutish tactics — he strongly suspects the assassin was toying with him as well. Unhindered, the Trollhunter sought a dangerous path that spelt disaster for all changelings. Ignorant child! How could he hope to defeat Gunmar, Gunmar the Black, the greatest of all Gumm-Gumms? Yet the possibility remained, and with it the chance that the Nursery would fall. That was something Strickler could not allow. Sighing, he frees his knife from the wall.

Suddenly, without warning, the changeling is struck with a profound feeling of suffering. His blade clatters to the floor, and his knees sink with it. “W-What…” Strickler gasps, clutching his side. Beneath his hands, his muscles spasm in ways unfelt in this form. Had Angor finally found a way to harm him? Summoning his will through the Inferna Copula, Strickler commands a vision of the troll assassin. He is met by the sight of dripping tunnels and a dais made from piled flotsam. The sewers under Arcadia, if he had to guess. So that was where the troll took refuge. Through Angor’s eyes, he sees a half-carved golem figurine and the rhythmic dip of a sharp blade. The assassin is completely absorbed in his work. An attack on his ringbearer seemed unlikely, then. But what was the cause of the pain? In a burst of green, he shifts back into his human guise. The phantom feeling hits him harder, drawing his breath out in small huffs. He immediately recognises it as the desire to retch. Trollkind — for all the unpalatable “delicacies” they consumed — are rarely struck with nausea. This resilience extended, in part, to the half-breeds or Impure. Even in human form, Strickler was only mildly inconvenienced by the sensation. It should be impossible for this to debilitate him so, unless…

“The binding!” The changeling yelps, forcing himself to his feet. Shoes, not claws, resound, as he tears down the hall towards the staff carpark.

***

A few minutes, one squashed goblin, and several ignored traffic regulations later, Strickler pulls up outside the Lake residence. Neither the wrath of Gunmar nor a raging Gronka Morka could drive him from the car and to the house more quickly. Shifting from foot to foot, he raps on the door sharply. No answer. “Barbara!” Strickler cries out, hating the desperation that creeps into his voice. The binding of fates was a brilliant strategy to control the Trollhunter, but he could not shake the thought it was ill-considered. As he knew from experience, humans were incredibly vulnerable creatures. If someone wanted to strike him down, it would be as simple as harming the woman while she slept. Granted, the Trollhunter was in residence most nights, but even Jim’s budding fighting skills would not suffice. He is honestly surprised Angor had not thought of it. As expected, the assassin was already testing his bonds. Fortunately, the mental compulsions bound with the Inferna Copula were enough to prevent any deviation from the ringbearer’s command…for now.

Strickler knocks again, more forcefully this time, leaving small dints in the paintwork. Was she still at the clinic? No, Barbara mentioned she had the rest of the day off after a fortnight of double shifts. The silence worried him, yet he knew — by virtue of his continued existence — that she still lived. Finally, he hears a reply, although faint and strangled. “One moment…urgh!” The magical echoes of suffering strikes him through the bond. Breathing slowly, Strickler grabs the door frame to steady himself. It would do them both no good if he was vulnerable to attack. He hears her now, shuffling towards the entrance. The changeling quickly straightens as the lock clicks. Barbara, still dressed in her medical scrubs, peers out. Framed by the dark wood of the portal, she is as pale as Myrddin’s cursed daylight. The fine copper strands framing her face are slick with sweat. “W-Walter?” Barbara squints into the cult-de-sac, swaying slightly.

“I…uh…was in the neighbourhood.” It pains him to smile, but after centuries of disguise and deception, very little discomfort shows. He punctuates his greeting with a slight shrug, inwardly cursing his lack of a good excuse.

“This isn’t r-really a good time,” she rasps, coughing at the words. Bile burns at the back of his throat. How unpleasant.

“Barbara, you look dreadful!” Strickler delivers his lines as naturally as possible, eye twitching. He closes the distance in a stride, pushing the door open ever so slightly. His eyes flick behind her, scanning for unseen threats. “Please, let me give you some assistance. It’s the least I could do.” She holds his gaze with those soft doe-eyes, red-rimmed and bagged with exhaustion.

“What have I done to deserve you?” She smiles weakly at him. Her misplaced trust unsettles him, but any unnatural feelings are soon replaced by another wave of nausea.

“Here, allow me.” He proffers his arm. She tucks against him and together they stagger towards the lounge room. The lights are dimmed and soft pop plays from an old radio on the bookshelf. He sets her down on the lounge, shifting the cocoon of blankets already in residence to make room.

“Ugh, thanks,” Barbara groans as she rolls on to her side. The changeling tucks her up again, smoothing the blanket across her shoulders. There is a chipped coffee mug of wine by the lounge. A spicy-sweet Riesling if he was any judge. A bowl accompanies the mug, half-eaten, with the spoon sticking straight up in stiff gloop. “It’s not food poisoning,” Barbara mutters from under the blanket, “just a bad batch of mac and cheese.” She laughs weakly. “Trust me, I’m a doctor.” He raises an eyebrow. To think, he, centuries-old changeling and leader of the Janus Order, could have been vicariously poisoned by cheesy pasta. Ever paranoid, Strickler checks the bowl for Trollish substances. Nomura may have been banished to the Darklands, but many of the Order still favoured her tactics. He finds nothing detectable, but the thought irks him.

Continuing his investigation in the kitchen, Strickler wades through a mire of dirty saucepans and stockpots. The blender, so conveniently and beautifully loud, dangles from the fridge by its cord. Still bubbling away on the hob, judging by its pungent tang, was the culprit. “Things have been crazy at the clinic,” she sighs, stretching out further. “I just wanted something comforting.” He sniffs the pot, immediately rebuking. There is a familiar odour. Fit for a troll, dare he say? It smelled of murkuun, the small balls of rat meat fermented in its own fat for several moons. Something he only tasted once — at knifepoint, in a Troll province under Capua — and never wishes to taste again. How a human could possibly recreate such a horror was beyond him. “Jim makes it look so easy.” Barbara sighs, sinking back into the lounge.

“And where is young Jim?” he inquires, although he already knows the answer. Ojos del Salado was an unforgiving realm and its overlord just as ruthless. With luck, the old volcano would deal with the changeling’s little problem.

“Still out camping,” she replies, sighing deeply. “I just don’t know anymore.” The changeling hums sympathetically, privately frowning. It would not be long before the Trollhunter exposed him, destroying Strickler’s budding relationship, or worse, broke Barbara’s heart. Put simply, it would be easier if the boy just vanished.

With Barbara having expelled most of the offending meal, Strickler figures she could use something to eat. The cupboards are well-stocked trove of exotic ingredients. Pickled ginger, saffron threads, Spanish cheese, to name a few. He should thank Young Atlas for that. Jim’s cooking was indeed superb: comforting, delightful, yet inventive. Much like the Trollhunter himself. A shame those skills would never flourish. The changeling settles on some battered soup tins from the bottom cupboard. It was unlikely anyone would miss these. Grimacing, he selects the most palatable of the bunch. The 'Cream of Chicken' squidges out in a solid, gelatinous, can-shaped lump. He hesitantly tastes it, gagging at the mush coating his tongue. Far too salty and artificial. Raiding the fridge, he finds some milk to dilute it. Now it smells…fairly edible. Changelings were voracious by nature, even at only a few decades old. While he had long since sublimated his needs to a human-like level, he could do with a good meal himself. Finally, he tops the steaming bowls with a few springs of freshly-snipped parsley. Not bad, for all its humble origins. The changeling was nothing if not good at disguising. As an afterthought, he throws the tins in the trash. Always hide the evidence. “Dinner is served,” he says with a wide smile, passing Barbara the soup bowl, “Just what the doctor ordered, I hear.” She chuckles lightly, then coughs as the air catches.

They eat in relative silence, save the soft clank and scrape of soup spoons. Strickler experimentally tries a spoonful of soup, then frowns as it fails to quench that persistent, annoying tickle in his throat. The binding was already becoming inconvenient. He watches her carefully over the rim of his bowl. She sips slowly at first, grimacing as broth irritates her raw throat. Yet, the nausea he sensed through the bond diminishes as she devours the soup. Soon, his dry, scratchy throat quietens. “Mmm. That was pretty good, Walt,” Barbara says, finishing the bowl. She runs a finger around the rim, “I feel… a lot better.” And he knows this to be the truth: their bond is quiescent now. She winks at him and the changeling could not help but beam. He feels…useful? No, that wasn’t quite it.

“Just something I threw together,” he replies, feigning modesty. Truthfully, her praise warms him, far more than the hot soup. He goes to takes her bowl, when a hand curls around outstretched arm, pulling him closer. Thrown off balance, his knees hit the edge of the lounge and he tumbles into her. Before he can right himself, her soft lips brush his, a gentle caress of appreciation.

CRACK! The bowl shatters under his preternatural strength. Barbara jumps at the sound and their noses bump together awkwardly, breaking whatever spell had overcome them. “Sh- sorry,” Barbara laughs uneasily, “I…better take that.”

“Oh, how clumsy of me,” his tongue intones automatically, while his mind reels with the kiss. He lets the bowl slip into her waiting hand, still stunned. Barbara shimmies out of the blanket and all but runs into the kitchen, cheeks burnished red. Strickler touches his lips, as if to ward off the sensation growing there. He had experienced kissing, lifetimes ago, but never like this. Never with the emotional sincerity that burns in his chest now. Gunmar take it, this was meant to happen the other way around. He was meant to be the one in control.

Unable to stop his steps, he follows her in the kitchen. Sauce and soup are splattered everywhere. Looking up, he can even see pasta shells plastered on the ceiling. Barbara is a tempest, a whirling flame of embarrassment. “Idiot, idiot...” she mutters under her breath as she aggressively stacks the dishes in the sink. Freed from its binding, her fiery locks lash like Medusa’s coils. Strickler pauses under the archway, unsure of what to do. This is still new to him — despite the advice he frequently gives. Uncertainty fades into resolve as he watches her unravel before his eyes. He spins her around, hands firm on her shoulders, stilling her movements. Barbara’s eyes widen like the proverbial deer-in-headlights.

“You are utterly enchanting,” he says, voice low and rough. The Morka take him for falling for this woman, this human. Someone who should have been a stepping stone, nothing more. All that frustration, that conflict, and, surprisingly, desire he compresses into a single, blistering kiss.

His hands are gentle but firm, his mouth consuming. Their teeth clash and in the heat of the kiss, he accidentally bites her lip. Pain spikes through the bond, mixed with something unfamiliar. Strickler scolds himself for his fervour, expecting Barbara to pull away. Surely humans didn’t enjoy that. If anything, the fierceness goads her on. Her fingers dig into his sides, pulling them both further over the counter top. Inspired, he bites gently, more of a nibble this time, and she melts against him. The taste of blood and bile is most unpleasant, but the thought enflames him. Trollkind are aggressive in their lovemaking: a play for dominance, with both sides feigning defeat to lure the other into overstepping. But that was not the human way, at least not normally. Yet a half-breed he was, and his warring natures certainly made things interesting. That being said, perhaps next time he would acquire breath mints.

That ridiculous thought wrenches him from his impassioned haze. He is suddenly aware of the precarious situation. Two adults — well, one human and a changeling — bent over a kitchen bench, necking like teenagers among pots and pans. His skin itches furiously. Tendons bound within corded muscles twitch, eager to stretch and change. Twin points of pressure bloom on his skull. Foolish, foolish! Strickler breaks the kiss, breathing hard. What in the Darklands was he thinking? Splayed in front of him is evidence of his zeal. Barbara’s glasses are askew, her lips dusky red and slightly parted. Her eyes, normally blue as the sky, are completely consumed by black pupils. The changeling can only imagine what he looks like. His front incisor aches, and he wonders if he had chipped it in his passion. He’d need to get that looked at. Truly a shame Gladysgro had been slain. She was an excellent dental hygienist. A cursory brush of his lips reveals a smear of red. He can still taste it, and that dances a little too close to his true heritage for his liking. It seems almost deviant. He was content to leave that for changelings like Nomura.

The silence is becoming uncomfortable. Was it too much? The unfamiliar feeling swells again through the bond. Stronger than before, as if duplicated. It wasn’t pain, but something equally as burning. Breathing out sharply, Barbara brushes the hair from her face. “I didn’t say stop.” She crosses her arms in a play of anger, but the impish smile betrays her.

“May I suggest somewhere more comfortable, then?” He suggests with a lopsided grin. His back was starting to twinge and, judging from the bond, Barbara’s was no better. Besides, benchtops were hardly romantic. He sweeps her into his arms, cautious this time, controlled, gentle.

“Hey!” She giggles, playfully hitting his side.

“Would you rather I leave you in kitchen? I do have several history papers to mark.” He deadpans while studying the nails on his free hand, knowing this will annoy her.

“Ass,” Barbara replies with no venom, allowing him to carry her to the lounge. She pushes him back lightly, making room for her to drape over him. Her weight, although light, compresses his chest. It is enough to remind him of stone hands and the first scorching crackle of his changeling magic. It is far too hot now. The cursed blankets twist underneath him, forming knots that dig deep into his spine. His hands stiffen, ghosting her side. Hers are on his shoulders, just resting, but they carry a weight of memories. An eldritch halo. The passage from dark to dark, and dark to light. Two worlds forever barred and only centuries of servitude to console him. He had only survived by adapting, by taking what he could control and bending it to his will. Making the best of a bad situation. Even his guise no longer felt unnatural. In fact, he hardly phased, unless the situation demanded it. Many of his ilk were disturbed by his interest in humanity. He would change their minds. He would rebuild the world for all his half-breed brethren. A chance for a life unfettered. And it starts with her, the woman tucked tightly against him. She is beautiful. Her scrubs have rucked up, exposing a creamy expanse of freckled skin, glowing with heated pleasure rather than illness. She is a radiant Aglaia, and he her supplicant. He surrenders to her, shoulders sinking back and brow softening. Truthfully, he had surrendered long ago.

She initiates a second time. A cautious kiss, a mere press that deepens into a flowing dance. Barbara softens him, tempers the fire inside. Her hands smooth his sides before settling at his nape. She twines her legs through his, not entrapping but encircling. He follows her movements, trying to learn the steps to their waltz. There is no set choreography, save a shared tenderness. They break rhythm, shift weight, dipping and spinning in tandem. Fuelled by their closeness, the bond fizzes with warm tendrils of energy. For a moment, there is no Trollhunter, no assassins, no Gunmar, no Order. But only for a moment. After some time, Barbara falls away from the dance with a gentle brush of her lips. Strickler opens his eyes slowly, afraid that this might have been some pixie-dream. “Oh, that was…” Barbara exhales, resting her head on his chest. Tentatively, he circles her in his arms.

“Exceedingly good?” He jokes, flashing a wry smile.

“I was going to say unexpected,” she huffs, butting him lightly. She looks away, shoulders tensing. “Was it? Good, I mean? I haven’t kis….”

“Barbara,” he interrupts, gently cupping her cheek. “Never apologise. That was perfect.” And this time, he truly means it. Not some lines he delivers to play a role, but an honest expression of emotion.

“You’re a good man, Walter." The words sting him. If only she knew. His keen ears pick up the chug and rattle of an old scooter down the street. So Jim had survived Gatto’s Keep. Hardly surprising, given the Trollhunter’s track record of near misses and lucky scrapes. Strickler had warned Angor not to underestimate the child, with good reason.

“I… should leave,” he says reluctantly. It would not do have the Trollhunter find them in a compromising position. Or perhaps it would? Changelings use any tactic to bring victory, and Strickler would do anything to unsettle his enemy. Besides, he enjoys tormenting the boy, if only to shake that idiotic innocence from his head. Gunmar would not be so forgiving. But lying here, content, in the arms of a woman he lo…strongly admired, Strickler couldn’t care less. And yet…

She hears the scooter as well, now idling in the drive. “Yeah…” Barbara sighs. They go about tidying their appearances, with minimal success. She re-ties her hair, finding her discarded glasses between two pans in the kitchen. Strickler fixes his sweater cuffs, straightens his jacket, which is hopelessly crumpled. Finally, he checks to see if his favourite pen is still inside the pocket. “Coffee? Tomorrow lunch?” Barbara asks as they reach the door.

“Sounds delightful.” He kisses her hand, a chaste reminder of the evening’s events. Heart warmed by the fire they kindled, he steps out into the chill of early evening. For the first time, he wonders if they have any future together. It is weak of him. There was still so much to achieve for his half-breed brethren. Yet, this, this is what he was fighting for.

And he would let nothing get in his way.