#huntmaster here too

[fobosfear]

I'M BACK. As promised, I bring gifts.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Illuminated.

Pairing: Yandere!Apollo x Reader (Greek Mythology).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Stalking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, No Specified Gender For The Reader But They Are A Hunter Of Artemis, and Implied Kidnapping.

[Commissioned Piece. Donate To Palestinians In Gaza Here.]

“You, my love, are the poet’s demise.”

You stiffened at the sound of his melodic voice, shrinking into yourself before thinking better of taking on such a mouse-like posture and straightening. Still, you failed to stop yourself from crossing your arms over your chest, pulling your knees up and hoping beyond hope that the silvery water would be enough to hide your form from his unfaltering stare. You thought it’d be safer to bathe at night, apart from your sisters, when the softened moonlight protected you from his burning gaze, but you’d been naïve to think that any hour could be late enough to spare you haven. During the day, you lived under the burning gaze of his blazing chariot, busied yourself with shooting down hawks and ravens carrying gifts in their beaks, and at night, he had no burdens to keep him from closing the distance between you using less... ancillary methods.

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken, my lord.” You forced yourself to laugh, glancing over your shoulder. Sure enough, Apollo stood on the river’s opposing bank, his tanned skin nearly radiant in the darkness. If the sight of him hadn’t brought you such dread, you might’ve thought him beautiful. “As of late, my aim’s been so poor that I can hardly call myself a stag’s demise, let alone a man’s.”

You were quick to look away from him, but you could still hear his gentle hum, picture the way his lips would lilt upward as he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s deathly true,” he went on, taking a step forward. The water rushed to part as he stepped where it had once been, and in turn, you scrambled for the robes you’d left on the shore, barely managing to pull the ashen cloth around yourself before Apollo came to stand in front of you, his light quickly doing away with what little protection the shadows offered. It was only after you were haphazardly dressed that you considered it might be considered an affront to hide any part of yourself from divinity, but the worry was quickly forgotten. It was only natural to want to create yet another barrier between you and him. Even insects knew to run from their betters. “For even the most talented bard would struggle beyond words to describe your beauty. They could be chained to their desk for an eternity, study under the Muses’ own tutelage, and still be unable to write a single line.”

He held out a hand to you, but you pretended not to realize he meant for you to take it. “You’re far too kind. If you have a message for Lady Artemis, there’s no need to bribe me with such—”

“My love,” he cut in, his smile unwavering. “If I had any desire to speak to my sister, your help would not be necessary.”

“A prophecy concerning our next hunt, then? If there’s something we mustn’t do, I ought to get the Huntmaster, she’ll—”

“My love.” You felt your throat tighten, your mouth go dry. “Although your voice is sweeter than honey and lovelier than birdsong, I’ll admit – I do find myself rather irritated when it’s used to employ such thinly veiled excuses. Any more, and I might think it better to encase your tongue in gold. At least, then, I might have something charming to admire while you lie to me.” His fingers grazed over your jaw as he moved to cup your cheek. It was not a gesture you had the luxury of ignoring. “You know why I have come here.”

Oh, how you wished you’d gone with your sisters.

“I… I can’t, my lord.” Unlike his, your voice was perfectly capable of trembling, of shaking, of plummeting into the sort of jarring, unsteady downward inflections that would’ve been the death of any proper storyteller. “My vows are to Lady Artemis, and—” It was your turn to smile, now, to lilt your head to the side apologetically. “—she’d never forgive me if I broke them. Especially with you.”

For the first time, his good humor seemed to ebb, giving way to not anger, but a melancholy sort of disappointment. “I suppose you’re right,” he relented, his golden glow dimming ever so slightly. Suddenly, it did not hurt quite so unbearably to look at him. “It’s a terrible thing. Me and my sister never did learn to share.”

Relief nearly managed to overshadow your revulsion. “I really am sorry. My desire is not to insult you, but—”

This time, when he interrupted you, it was not with a teasing remark, a nectar-dipped pet name, the vague implication of an affection he expected you to return. Rather, there was a sudden brightness in his golden eyes, a sharpened point to his smile, and then, his lips were pressed into yours. The kiss was shallow, but lingering, and when you tried to draw back, the hand on your cheek kept you firmly in place – his hold not crushing, but steadfast, resolute. His unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist, his hand finding its place at the small of your back as he sapped the last of the breath from your lungs. It was only when your palms pressed into his chest, your blunt nails burrowing into his bare skin in a silent plea for air, that he pulled back. Panting and flushed, you made a desperate effort to pull away, to escape back to your encampment, back to your sisters, back to your goddess, but he only cooed, his bowstring calloused fingertips fanning over your cheek.

“Such a terrible thing,” he muttered, and you considered, briefly, that you might’ve been the first mortal to realize just how wretched his voice truly was.

“How fortunate it is, then, that you’ve caught the attention of such a selfish admirer.”

[bodysnatch3r]

wip wednesday thursday friday

tagged by: @oldxenomorph

tagging: @captainskells @nixeofmidgard @dreadfutures @echthr0s @crabs-with-sticks @heliomanteia and YOU! 🫵👁��

from my oneshot wip "domestication hymns", a ghilan'nain character study that takes place in the same verse as mien'harel:

Her father drones on, endlessly. Her face is on fire, a pain that traces the contours of her freshly-applied Vallaslin. She is tired. She is warm, her collar too high and her pauldrons too constricting. Creators, she is hungry.

Her last meal was two days ago. Her last bath was three days ago. She can only stand her own stench so long before she starts to consider self-immolation as a last resort. The entirety of her prioception is filled with the brunt, the physical, the base, the animal. She stinks, she starves, she sweats.

But she is now, unmistakeably, holy. Her father is Huntmaster-Hahren to the Lady Andruil, and today she becomes a woman marked by the same flavour of holiness. The bow and arrow of the Vallaslin, so gracefully arched down her face, now tell all: here is Ghilan'nain, daughter of the Gamesmaster of the Wild Hunt, and she has survived her first hunt, and she has brought back game, and the swift-footed Lady of the Three Trees has found it a worthy offering. Now, she is a woman.

[inventors-fair]

Tough Acts to Follow: Set-Name Runners-up! ~

Our runners-up this week are @grornt, @isitaristocrats, and @misterstingyjack!

@grornt — Cyclonic Philosopher

"I'm gonna cast Cyclonic..." And the whole room utters a collective groan until, surprise! It's just card advantage. I mean, nobody's gonna say no to that, uh... Who's that ghostly spirit nerd from Foundations—Spectral Sailor, that's the lad. Love that card! Tapping to draw a card and also not having flash is kinda the downside, but this thing can do it for up to just U instead of having to do 3U every turn. Boomjams! It's always great to have a card that can chip in early damage and also always great to have a nerd that can draw you spells and whose ability becomes that much less cumbersome in the late game when you have the mana to play all your cards to further reduce the cost.

In general, I wonder what the whole Tempest would look like. Would it just be activated abilities that are reduced through the number of spells? What would that look like on spells, then? Feels a bit odd at times to want to cast spells in order to cast more spells, but as someone who does like to cast spells I'm not wholly against it, I suppose. Perhaps there could be a card that... Ooh, something like a Fireball effect but you can get an extra target for every spell you've cast. Y'know? Tempest and Storm do have similar names, similar enough for me to get some devilish schemes going... Yeah, no, in all seriousness, I'm curious what you had fully planned out for this ability.

@isitaristocrats — Huntmaster Baloth

Some folks might've noticed a few repeats in the names that people chose this week, and hey, that's all well and good and we'll be getting to those in due time. This card, though! It's a freaky and awesome one and I kept coming back to it because it just felt so awesome. There's something we call a "winmore" effect kinda pejoratively at times, but I've never felt that it's that bad to have an effect that demands to be answered. Sometimes it's a real pain, but if you don't deal with these things, then you're gonna be in for a bad time. You can still multiblock a Huntmaster Baloth here, y'know? That card advantage is pretty awesome. I also like the idea of Alpha creatures wanting to swing in and offer trades just to ensure that your opponent's Alpha has to answer out of fear that you'll swing right back.

Is this intended to be only on attack triggers? Probably not, because I can see various "enters" effects that would work well with it, perhaps even death triggers, even various static abilities if the stack doesn't get too messed up. The definition of 'alpha' to be both 'first' and 'apex' is one of the coolest things about the word to me, for real. I'm a huge fan of how this works and I'm curious to see what you had in mind for how the rest of Alpha as an ability word would shake out. Perhaps it's more of a limited "answer me or else" thing, but hey, that's how green gets ahead of the pack!

@misterstingyjack — Caterwauling Cohort

I really wasn't sold on this card, and then I stopped being a stick in the mud and realized that yeah, it's a funny ability that you can roll with in a number of awesome combinations. Battlebonding can ensure that there are creature splashed into other decks with types/subtypes mattering, a kind of mechanical glue for limited that offers options. What if you have Rogues in both Goblins and Faeries, and then you have a faerie that can battlebond with Rogues to add an evasive option to your fliers? Like, c'mon, that's such a cool thing that works with the flavor and world of Lorwyn so much. I have the sinking suspicion that Lorwyn, when we return, is going to play more like Bloomburrow than not (and don't get me started on my BLB limited opinions), but man, I just wish there could be cards like this that make the whole thing work.

For this particular card, having the opponent sacrifice stuff can be ridiculously powerful; frankly, I'd even add a +1/+1 counter instead of just giving the boost until end of turn. Or maybe a boost and trample, I dunno, something a smidge more powerful than what you have here, but it doesn't have to be too crazy. I like the idea of these denizens battlebonding with various elementals around Lorwyn, maybe even with a cycle that specifically bonds with Elementals to give the Elementals a chance to shine outside of their prismatic aspects. Changeling would certainly help with that, and I have the feeling that we're gonna see Changeling come back to Lorwyn, but all the same. I may not have liked the weird specificities that you presented here initially, but the more I think about it, the more I'm actually really impressed with the inherent argument.

If you're reading this, I'm deep in the weeds at work this week, so commentary will be done when I can get it done. Things are much wilder than I want them to be, so apologies in advance, but thank you all for your entries!

@abelzumi

[ghostinthegallery]

Hello Ghost! First good day I am you are doing well!

Second; forgot to ask in AO3 but will we see Trazyn explaning the shitshow he put himself, Solamnace AND everyone living in Solamnace at the mot? It would be so cool to see his crypteks and Ashkut AND Huntmaster calling him an impulsive moron in the politest most passive aggressive way they can get away with XD

And seeing their undying loyalty to him too. Even with imminet and lets be honest extraordianary danger they are all in all WILL stand with their lord until to the bitter end. He is theit lord and this is their home and by the all dead gods they will fight tooth and nail to protect it!!!...also after the amount of work the put in Solamnace and regular bullshit they go through there is no way in hell they'll go without a fight.

I would love to see Trazyn getting emotional XD (because these people were HIS family before and after biotransfarence I will die on this hill you and magistralucis convinced me in XD)

(if anyone is curious what situation Trazyn got himself into, read my longfic here. Shameless self promo done)

Haha, I do have plans for the Solemnace crew (not immediately, there's a lot to cover but it will come!). Now hijacking your ask because it did get me thinking about loyalty as a concept for necrons. So few of them have free will. Even those that do are still machines. Machines can be programmed. Szarekh literally had a command protocol that let him control every single necron (which he gave up but the fact that level of control is possible is kinda terrifying)

So how can one truly know if loyalty is chosen or programmed? How much free will can a machine without a soul have? I find that idea so interesting, and I imagine is occurs to the characters as well. We just don't see it as much since most of the POV characters are lords who would have no reason to consider it. Severed imho addresses this in a roundabout way with how it portrays Obyron's loyalty to Zahndrekh. It shows that a subordinate can choose loyalty to their lord, rather than having it forced on them by programming.

I imagine the Solemnace crew are in a similar position (the sentient ones anyway). Trazyn is not the best lord out there, he will take possession of a subordinate's body if he needs it and that does NOT sound pleasant. But the narrative really does show his court having will and opinions and skills that Trazyn values. That's not true of every overlord. So yeah, based on what we see I do think their loyalty is a choice. That's hella emotional to me, so yeah, I promise it will come up XD

[reassambled-dragoon]

28: Deleterious

   “...and so, the act of summoning Primals invariably has a deleterious effect on the land and its people,” Thancred concluded, marking the relevant passage in the tome he was translating aloud for Stasia. He watched as she finished her note-taking; as seemed to be her habit, her personal notes were in her native tongue, which was almost as good as a cipher, considering no one else could read them. “Any questions, my lady?”

   Stasia looked at him, tapping her chin in another habit. Her odd ears flicked slightly, and those glowing eyes were unsettlingly piercing. “How do you handle eliminating Primals when Star and Storm aren’t available? If their mere presence can dominate the general populace, there must have been a means to handle them before your pet hatchets came around.”

   Thancred barely managed to hide his flinch. It was, unfortunately, true: for far too long, the Scions had treated the Hellsguard duo, even Arenvald, like Primal headsmen. What was truly unnerving was how quickly Stasia had caught on. “Distance, primarily. You’re a longtime archer, so I’m certain you’re familiar with that. There is also cannon and magic.”

   Stasia’s eyes narrowed slightly. “But why use magic when it is an oversaturation of magic that causes this Tempering?”

   Thancred sat bolt upright, his hand still on the tome he’d been reading from. “I beg your pardon? Can you explain that, please?”

   “The oversaturation of magic? This is not common thought?” When Thancred shook his head, Stasia frowned. “Ah, I forget, you haven’t fought the Old Gods and their cults. I suppose the best way to phrase it is…well, imagine someone is in the same room as you. You can ignore them, they are simply existing.” At Thancred’s nod, she continued. “Say the other person starts waving at you. You take notice, but you can continue ignoring them. They begin whispering; it’s mildly annoying, because it breaks the silence, but still easy to disregard. Then they begin escalating, gradually turning to shouting in your ear.”

   “And the moment you give them any attention, the stranger wins.” Thancred crossed his arms as he thought about this. “That’s not quite how Tempering works here…that we know of. I suppose someone strong-willed enough could possibly resist, but that is not a gamble I would like for you to take.”

   Stasia simply looked at him. Her lips turned up in a ghost of a smile, and there was something unnerving in her eyes.

   “No. No, tell me you haven’t danced with a Primal, Huntmaster.” When her smile only deepened, and her giant glowing not-coeurl joined the staring contest, Thancred could feel a thrill of fear run down his spine. “Oh, seven bloody hells, you’re mad. You are absolutely mad. Who else knows about this stunt?”

   “Only you, Thancred…and as you are an intelligent man, I trust that no one else will,” Stasia purred.

[thethistlegirlwrites]

At long last part 5 of 5 is here! (and is much cuter than the previous installments...and set several weeks later)

“Stop.” Shay puts an arm across the doorway. “They took your stitches out. That is not permission to go crawling around the wreckage of a car that will probably make you need more of them.” 

“I’ve got to put her back together too.” Sierra says.

“You will. Just wait a few more weeks.” Shay sighs. “She’s not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Don’t remind me.”

She’s lucky it’s a six month unpaid suspension. Maira pulled the ‘extenuating circumstances’ card, insisting Sierra had killed Shay’s sire in a purely justifiable effort to prevent her from taking control of him again. Outside standard operating procedure on a distressing amount of levels, but something that, shockingly, the National Huntmaster’s Office was prepared to accept. 

And it probably looks bad on the books to be the hunter agency that fired a Stoker. 

“You’re just headed for the car to get out of the mandatory remedial policy course, aren’t you?”

Sierra grimaces. “Whoever picked the video narrator for that needs to be the one on suspension. He’s just droning on and on.” 

“You could watch it with the speed turned up.” Shay gently steers her back toward the couch. “It’s a formality anyway. Maira knows you know the rules, you just chose not to follow them.”

“It’s a formality with pop quizzes. I hate those.” 

They’ve fallen back into the usual pattern of playful banter. It’s nice to know that what that vamp (he still doesn’t know her name, they may never know it, her DNA didn’t match to anything in any records and they’re still working on dental, but given that they’ve had to try and contact Russian authorities for that, he isn’t sure how well that will go) did to their relationship wasn’t a permanent rift, but they haven’t talked about what happened that day since Sierra woke up in the infirmary.

He’s not about to bring it up. He wasn’t lying when he said what they have right now is just fine with him. If Sierra wants to talk about whatever it was she said when she thought she might be dying, that’s her choice.

She settles gingerly into the couch and picks up the laptop. “Alright, I guess I’ll finish this section. And then email Grandpa Stephen and tell him he needs to add about eight new apps to the ‘responding to vampires captured on social media’ subheading.” 

Shay nods. “I’ll start dinner. I don’t think I can ruin prepackaged ramen.” They’re on a shoestring budget right now with Sierra’s suspension. Shay can handle the rent and utilities with what Emma pays her staff, but food has always been Sierra’s responsibility and she refused to let him pay for something he doesn’t need.

“You let the water boil off spaghetti once. You set off the smoke alarm.”

“It’s not my fault I haven’t needed to eat in years.”

“Just keep your eye on it.” She picks up her headphones. “After this, do you want to look at paint colors? If I’m going to rebuild half the front end I think it might be time for Dad’s Camaro to get a new look.”

“I’m game.” He glances at the printout on the coffee table. “Looks like you got started already.”

“I got really bored in the section on appropriate footwear, and Pete is still trying to convince me to use Excel tables for everything in my life.” There’s a list of paint colors, codes, and interior combinations for the ‘67 model year, with photos of cars with each of the described color combinations next to them.

“I was thinking of going with the Nantucket Blue. It would still look good with the interior and be light enough to not get too hot if we road trip it to Texas again.”

“How about this one?” Shay asks, pointing to a light tan. “Sierra Fawn. It literally has your name in it. That feels like it’s meant to be.”

“If I want a car that looks like the military owned it first, sure.” Sierra says. “It shades olive, see?”

“That might be a good color in the desert. Make it less visible.”

“We don’t work in the desert often enough.” Sierra says, then looks up and sniffs. “Go stir those noodles.”

“I see what you’re doing. I’m not done trying to convince you.”

“I’m not painting my car olive drab, Shane Barrett.”

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @whumptober

You can read the whole five-part series in one place here on my WorldAnvil, as well as more stories from this 'verse!

[maverick-werewolf]

BIG NEWS - Update post (upcoming works, blog updates, Patreon updates, and much more)

This is a very important post, so please do give this a read whether you're a patron or not! You're likely to find something that'll interest you.

Before we get started, I want to give yet another shout-out to all my loyal patrons. Thank you all again so very much for supporting me and helping me do the things I love. I couldn't do this without you, so thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Now let's talk about changes to this Patreon and some updates on my upcoming works...

First off, I will no longer be posting all of the rough draft chapters of a book in order here on the Patreon as I write them. I want to encourage everyone to read the final draft of the book in its entirety, and I do not want to post the entire rough drafts of my books online anywhere at all. I will continue posting chapter previews here! But they won't be the same.

I'm going to post chapters in an out-of-order fashion, as I've started doing for Knightfall and Redfield Incident. Think of them as exclusive previews, sneak peek clips of a film you'll only get if you're invited to the cinema con. For example, I recently posted a preview of Chapter 11 of Knightfall but I haven't posted all the chapters that came before that. This will give you an exciting look at the book and what it's like without spoiling the whole thing for you!

Next, I am here to announce that I'm bringing back monthly short stories! It may be a rocky start at first since things have been crazy lately (aren't they always?), but I hope I can get this back on track by June at the latest, if I can't manage a story for May, and after that, I really hope I can post at least rough drafts for short stories, one a month, well before I publish them publicly, as I did with the short stories that now compose The Hunt Never Ends.

It should always be remembered, too, that whether you are reading a chapter preview for a novel or a monthly short story, they will always be rough drafts when they are posted here on the Patreon. They should not in any way be considered a representation of the finished product.

Again, this Patreon is for previews and sneak peeks and the monthly short stories, but the things you read here are still not up to snuff to the final release. I love bringing you previews, though, and you deserve them as patrons, so those certainly won't stop!

In addition to the short stories, of course, I am also going to continue working on my other projects: my current book project is Knightfall, which I fully plan to republish this year; and of course I will be maintaining my monthly folklore facts (werewolf/vampire).

There are still two more things to announce, though!

For all you Lunatics out there, I do plan to bring back my lunatic writings. You can expect to see those resume after Knightfall is redrafted. At the latest, they will return after Knightfall is published again, because it's taking so much of my energy. Hopefully I can get you a few before then, though! They should be back in earnest by the end of the year if they aren't before.

And now another new focus: LEGO figures and builds! I used to make a lot of custom LEGO 'figs in the past, as you may know, and I even used to build things. I want to get back to doing that. I miss it, and I hope it will increase interest in Wulfgard and my other works.

You can expect to see me making custom 'figs and builds of Wulfgard, Nova Refuge, and some of my favorite pop culture things, like some video games and movies.

TL;DR:

Chapter posts on the Patreon will not encompass full     books and will be out of order chapter previews

Return of monthly short stories (and polls related to     them! More below)

Return of random fun writings by the end of the year at     the latest

Maintaining monthly folklore posts, like usual

New focus on custom LEGO figures and builds

And now on to the discussion of PATREON TIERS and updates to those!

First up, we see the return of the $20 tier, Huntmaster, with new art featured at the top of this post!

This has returned by popular demand, and it comes with a new benefit:

Access to patron-only polls about upcoming major     projects (novels, short stories, etc). Help me decide what my next     monthly short stories and published works will be!

This will be an important benefit now that monthly short stories will be returning soon! Many of the stories in The Hunt Never Ends were determined by patron poll results.

And, of course, it's always good to get to vote on what book you'd like to see next from me, as that's a very big decision and takes a lot of my time!

But wait, there are still more changes...

First off, there is an alteration to the $10 tier, Mooncaller. This tier's benefit of the writing polls has been moved up to $20 and replaced by the following...

Send me research questions! At this tier, you can send  me questions/asks     related to any of my research, such as folklore and  mythology!     (Please send them via Patreon Messages, and I will post my  response     publicly. You may ask to remain anonymous in the public posts  as the     asker.)

Unfortunately, and this is a big change, I can no longer justify the amount of time it takes for me to answer research-related questions on my blog. Therefore, I will no longer be responding to asks involving any form of research/that would require me to do research or brush up on a topic before I am able to answer.

I will still happily answer simple questions/asks, though, and I’m always happy to talk werewolves, vampires, folklore, etc., as long as the response doesn’t require me to go out of my way to do extra research!

Instead, if you have questions involving research, you can send them to me on Patreon if you are a patron at the $10 Mooncaller tier or higher! Please send them to me as a Patreon message, and I will post the question and my response publicly afterward. If you would like to remain anonymous as the asker, please mention that in your Patreon message with your question.

Thanks for your understanding on this issue. Research is a lot of time and work, and while I will always post my folklore facts for free, I cannot do that with everything, sadly.

I have not, at this time, added a loot bag to the reward tiers, except for the occasional custom minifig that $50+ tiers will receive. In the future, I will likely add a loot bag to the $50 tier and the $100 tier to receive some special custom LEGO minifigures once every two months guaranteed! But that will come later, and it will be partially determined by the amount of interest in my upcoming LEGO updates. I would like to see how those go first. For now, we have a lot of updates already!

That's all for now. Thanks for reading, and please consider supporting me on Patreon if you enjoy my content! I'm doing my best to provide fun and interesting rewards for your support, and every little bit helps me keep my blog running and my stories flowing.

Until next time!

Click here to read this post on Patreon and visit my Patreon itself.

[talldarkandroguesome]

11th of Frostfall, Morndas

After a long discussion, Huntmaster Sorim-Nakar was persuaded to deliver the news to Tel at the barracks, as we agreed. It took many promises and the knowledge that the only weapon to be able to stop Chodala being in Vivec City and that he was the only one with the knowledge and skill to be able to deliver both the message and lead those with the weapon back here before it might be too late, to convince him.

So Seryn and I have been keeping an eye on the ruin and waiting for the Erabenimsun war party to arrive. The Huntmaster left markings to lead them in the right direction and Seryn and I discussed our hopes that it would take them longer to arrive than Tel and the others.

As we stayed and watched from the shore, we saw a slow trickling in of other warriors. As they had not been the ones at Ald’ruhn, the only reason for them to arrive would be as defenders for Chodala. I took careful count of how many we saw. I presume that Chodala would be the first to arrive, in which case we will have an exact number of defenders to present to the war party. If not, then we know at a minimum how many may be inside.

When we were not counting the arrival of enemy reinforcements, I tried to keep Seryn’s mind off of the inevitable conclusion to this battle. I know the guilt of taking a brother’s life. I know how much harder it would have been for me if I had been allowed to spend a day or more ruminating on the situation and reminiscing upon pleasant memories and the bond once held dear.

Then, this evening, the war party approached. Seryn recognized their banner and called out to them.

It was a very tense spot of negotiation that had to be made.

The Erabenimsun are not exactly known for the patience or diplomacy. In fact, ignoring wise women if it does not serve their efforts is a bit of a long standing history with them.

Still, Seryn was able to convince them to wait for their own Huntmaster to return with the one weapon that could defeat Chodala’s shield, that without that no arrow nor blade would be able to strike him. And magicka would fare no better.

Seryn and I exchanged looks. After all, neither of us were even sure that Nenet and the others had a weapon. It was just that there was a possibility. One that we had to pray would be ready in time. Or at all.

Surely there was a way to reverse the staff. I may not like the Telvanni, but I did have to admit that at least one of the Telvanni masters was likely to have some idea of how best to handle the situation. Even though it probably cost half a village of lives to discover it.

There was no time to worry over that now. We had made our proposal to the Erabenimsun.

In the end, they agree to give us until sunrise.

If one thought the negotiations fraught, the waiting in darkness for the arrival of aid with a band of very angry, tired, warriors, who were impatient to see their vengeance, was ten fold worse. What is the old Imperial saying?

Ah yes, the tension was so thick one would have been able to cut it with a knife.

So very true.

I think the Nords have a similar saying, but it involves ice and an axe.

At any rate, Seryn and I were holding our breaths every time there was a noise or one of the war party got up. We were just waiting for the worst the entire time.

Then, just mere hours before dawn, a call came out nearby.

The war party all stood and answered.

To our great relief, it was the Huntmaster, with Tel, Nenet, and Gethan in tow.

Further, they had some Dwemer looking device that they assured us would be able to counteract the effects of the staff. Apparently it requires one person to activate the device and another to direct it.

Of course, all the war party are arguing about how they will decide who will strike the blow against Chodala. Many believe it should be the mer to kill the most of Chodala’s defenders. Others think it should be the first to kill one of Chodala’s defenders. The Huntmaster has claim for not only tracking Chodala, but for also retrieving the weapon. The Ashkhan will ultimately win, I believe. After all, he is the one who first attacked Chodala and was injured when the shield threw him back.

We have let them all argue amongst themselves as we prepare to head into the ruin. Instead, the five of us have to decide who is going to operate the device.

I believe that Seryn should be in charge of at least one part of it. That way she can feel as though she helped to stop her brother, without worrying about the guilt of dealing any of the blows. I am sure Nenet will want another. Gethan seemed best suited to protect his charge and I have agreed to protect Seryn already.

I fear Seryn and I will have to talk about the outcome of this fight to come. She has been trying to remain hopeful that without the influence of the staff her brother will see reason once more. And I am inclined to encourage that. As long as there is a hope to not having to kill him, then that is what we should strive for.

I do not feel inclined to positivity for this fight, but I shall try my best to remain optimistic. For Seryn, if for no other reason.

Azura bless us, Your mortal warriors, as we prepare to enact Your will. Boethiah, imbue my blades with conviction and strikes true, that I may survive by ending the lives of those standing in my way. Mephala, my Prince, the lives I take here today are my offerings to You, that I may continue to prove my devotion through the blood I spill and the souls I send to You.

[yzareenxiv]

FFXIVWrite 2021- 13: Onierophrenia

((TW: hallucinations, TW: depersonalization (?), TW: psychosis ))

Oneirophrenia

She’d been in the cage, in the dark, for so long that her eyes had forgotten what natural light was. Pupils perpetually as wide as they could go when she bothered to open her eyes at all. They were vulnerable parts, so she gave them what little protection she could behind her lids. They were functionally useless, anyway. Her ears and nose and skin and less definable senses were more important here- even if none of them were really reliable anymore.

This world in it’s perpetual, unshifting darkness and it’s denizens that did not bother to count the minutes, the bells, the days, the moons, the years- decades? Centuries?- it had made it impossible for her to count these things, too. She’d tried, at first- marking each awake-time as ‘day’ though she knew that all the training she’d undergone as a young huntress meant that the space of several suns probably passed before she was too exhausted to continue walking the timeless space of the hall. Her sleep was always disturbed, too. Noises, whispers, presences too close for safety. That unceasing jangling of her nerves that she was in danger and constantly surrounded by the Void.

At least in the hall there had been light of a fashion.

Here, where she had been thrown… there was none of that. The gibbering howls and snuffles and grunts of the other animalistic hunting-things in the ‘kennel’ was only slightly muffled by the depth of the hole the cage was built into. When her keeper opened the hatch above to drop down food and drink- if one could call whatever indescribable things he gave her by those names- he always put out the lamps before he did, cackling at her in a tongue she still did not understand but could gather the meaning of. ‘Eat up. Eat the filth like a good starving animal.’

He must be able to see her, somehow. Or feel her. Whenever she tried to sleep, when her mind could take no more and sought to escape into dreams or simple unconsciousness, she would be unceremoniously awoken in some jarring- and often painful- way. There seemed to be no infection here- at least, nothing that was not caused intentionally- and whatever was in the fluid she was given insured she healed unnaturally and agonizingly swiftly. ...If they wanted her to be.

Her body swayed unconsciously as broken bits of songs, rhymes, jokes, stories fell from her lips in incomprehensible tangles of the Jaguar and Eorzean tongues, mumbled and scrambled. She was starving and her lips were cracked with thirst. The gilded collar around her throat and the shackles at her wrists chafed until her skin wept. The cage was not tall enough for her to stand and was just barely wide enough for her to stretch out her arms fully. She was forced to crouch, or crawl, or sit, or curl into a ball. She was fairly certain she was sitting with her back to the wall of the cage. Though in complete darkness, in sleepless semi-delirium, it was really impossible to say what was up or down. She could be on her back against the top of the cage, floating. The cage was square- so what would it matter?

As she sat- or floated- or layed on her back- the person that was once miqo’te, Y’zareen, Jaguar, Sin-Eater appeared in the dark of closed or open eyes. She shone with an inner light and the caged huntress hissed and tried to shut the vision out, lifting her arms to block it away.

The voice was familiar. It was one-and-many. Masculine, feminine, all in between. Snarl, purr, roar, whisper, and coo. Jaguar, Eorzean, the chirps and trills of Huntspeak.

“Do not forget the light.”

Mmpph. Useless, that. The world was darkness and would ever be darkness. Too small for her to stand, just wide enough for her to stretch out her arms. Cackling and jeering, muffled sounds, food that had no substance, drink that allowed endless torment. Ever and ever and unending.

“No. Remember.”

The glow increased and she snarled at it, baring fangs. It was the first actual, coherent, voluntary noise she’d made in recent memory and it surprised her. Anchored her, just a little. She was lying on her back with her butt against the wall of the cage and her legs outstretched, hands on her stomach. Rolling over, she pushed herself up to a proper seated position. The world tilted and she grasped her head as she retched, dizziness engulfing her. There was nothing to bring up, but the act of retching was another anchor. This was her body.

“That’s a start.” The glow diminished a little as the shining creature sat next to her in a companionable way. She stared at it, at the features that kept shifting- familiar, vaguely, every one of them, but she could not recall them. Lost dreams.

“Not good enough. Remember.”

The snarl-snap of the voice made her recoil in anticipation of pain. More pain to come, though, if she did what she was told.

She rebelled, lashing out at the glowing dark. It dissipated into flames that washed over her and set her to screaming, thrashing, burning, the stench of flesh and blood and hair burning so strong in her nose-

Gone.

She was seated with her back to the wall of the cage and her hands over her face like a child. She could feel the calluses on her fingertips and the prick of claws and the grime. Her hands fell away. The flames were gone. In the darkness across from her was a shadow, sitting calmly, feline, with tail curled around it’s paws. Glimmer of eyes in the dark.

“Mm. Closer. Good. More.”

She was tired. She didn’t want to. Fuck this. Fuck that. Who was this to demand anything of her? Fire stirred in her breast.

“Better. Remember.”

The buzzing of cicadas. The scent of green and growing things. Teeth white in a smile- not her but someone she cared about. Her heart beating quick and sure and strong. Muscles moving smoothly as she ran and leapt, air rushing past her.

Her lips cracked at the now-unfamiliar and yet involuntary smile. Blood ran down her chin, into her mouth, and she licked it up, caught it with her fingers and sucked them clean despite the grime. It tasted good- like fire, like honey, like spice and smoke, like life.

She could feel her heartbeat. Thudding. It was good.

The huntmaster watched impassively as the most unruly and dangerous of his charges, placed under his hand by the Queen-Mother herself for taming, began to stir in the pit. No matter what he’d done, he hadn’t been able to heal the wounds she’d given him- ichor still seeped through the bandages on his arm and torso, weakening him slowly and steadily. The Queen-Mother had been thrilled.

Nothing survived the pit. That had been true in the days of darkness and the time before it, too, when he’d been called the Houndmaster and the beasts in his charge had equal parts feared and loved him. Had it a mind, it would break down there- that was unquestionable. A matter of time- and so long as he remained in the good graces of the Court, he needn’t worry about that. This one had been so very close- when they start rambling, it was always a signifier that the self was breaking down and fading away. A self is a dangerous thing to allow a hunting beast. They start getting ideas.

As he watched, the strange creature in the pit interacted and reacted to that which was not there, and, impossibly, rather than it’s visions continuing to erode it into the smooth slate he required, he could tell even from far above that it was- over the long course of time- steadily starting to rebuild.

His wounds ached. Dissatisfaction burned like bile in his throat. He’d never, ever failed to break one of his beasts to his will and as coherent, though alien, words began to rise from the pit he knew he must announce his failure to his monarch.

Zareen didn’t know how long it had been that she’d been in the pit. But she knew the moment the huntmaster walked away with heavy footfalls. She curled into a corner of the cage, and smiled, and slept, with her visions wrapped around her.

[rainofaugustsith]

On SWTOR’s Disappearing Characters

I've learned that the discussions on the official forum are a hellscape, and that it's best to completely avoid that site, save for the dev announcements, bug reports and PTS information. I unwisely took a peek tonight, and yep, that has not changed.   I'm floored that people are still - still requesting kill options for characters. And yes, of course, it's another female character.   There haven't been enough character deaths already? Really? SWTOR is a bloodbath.  

(Spoilers for just about everything up to Onslaught)

Currently, there are only five major named characters from the class stories who can be alive for everyone, or at least have not been explicitly killed off (Satele Shan, Darth Jadus, Darth Malgus, Keeper, and the Huntmaster). There are two more from the SoR era (Lana Beniko and Shae V). One of those seven is not looking too good from a current story standpoint, and another has been the target of a lot of moaning and screaming for a kill option from some women fans, who apparently think it's totally cool to exclude wlw by killing off the only major wlw character in the game.

Three major named NPCs were killed in KOTFE or KOTET. 20 more named NPCs can potentially be killed off on Nathema, which means they now do not exist for anyone's story in a major way. It's true that some of those NPCs were extremely obscure - someone's wife, a character that only appears on that one flashpoint - but many of them were major supporting characters who could have had a critical role in future story.   Out of the companions that we originally started the game with, of the original 40, 14 are killable. In one class - Sith Warrior - there is literally only one companion who can be alive for everyone, meaning that 4/5 have now been erased from the possibility of being part of the main story.   Of the companions we gained from KOTFE onward, 4/5 can be killed. The fifth is the aforementioned character from SoR who has been pulled out of a lot of story, probably thanks to the screams of the angry fans mentioned above.   That's 18 companions, dead for some and now removed from having any large role in the main story for all. Sure, they might get a cameo every now and then, or have a few lines thrown their way because they need to have some love interests, but yeah, they're not doing much.   So we get to Ossus and there are some really cool returning characters! Malora looks great! Oops. Bye. Onward to Onslaught. By the end of Onslaught, the potential exists to kill four Dark Council members. There are only six in total on the Council so you've literally almost wiped it out. Characters like Darth Savik and Darth Malora are interesting, but their only role seems to be to show up and die or flee the Council. That nice Republic general from Esseles? Not. Jonas Balkar? Later.     And no, I don't think all of them were necessary. Yes, some were. Tanno Vik's voiceover actor passed away, so he could not stay in the story. Okay. Arcann and Senya, I will grant because they are main antagonists in the story. SCORPIO? Well, they did set that one up. Skadge was total fan service, probably because a lot of people (including myself) resented having to take him on the crew during the class story. My bounty hunter would have blown him away before she would have let him anywhere near Blizz or Mako, much less on her ship. I'll concede that he was a pretty universally (but not entirely) hated character and most fans probably would not have enjoyed having him in the story.     But Aric Jorgan and Kailyo? Unnecessary. Vette and Torian? A gimmicky Virmire move to get the player angry at Vaylin and make that final fight more palatable. Koth? That one was sheer fan service. Quinn? I fucking hate Quinn and have headcanoned that he left the crew after the Quinncident back in the class story, but they didn’t need to do that. I did take the kill option on Iokath but only because the writers gave me no other way to dismiss Quinn. If one didn't choose the kill option, on the Imperial side, the only other choice was to essentially pat him on the back and say "hey, bro, just don't do it again, K? Welcome back to the family!" But so many years after the Quinncident, do you really think my Sith Warrior was sitting there stewing and fretting over Quinn enough to kill him? Honey, she won. She defeated Baras and did fabulous things and Quinn was an afterthought by that point. She wouldn't have killed him; she just would never have let him on the base at all.   And those tactics where players’ hands are forced do skew the results. If your only options are to kill someone off vs. cheerfully accepting them, you’re going to get kill simply because players want to get away from that character. It’s the same with Arcann. If Arcann had been separated from Senya’s fate and there had been an option to say “sure, yes, recover. Just not here,” I wonder if the results might have been different. But either you kill Arcann and Senya in DS choices or you have to let them take the place of your trusted advisors, so it’s one extreme or the other.  Theron? Come the fuck on. The entire traitor arc was ridiculous. They didn't need to set Theron up as a traitor to begin with. I mean, it's not as though betrayal is not a very tired old trope that's been used about a thousand times in SWTOR already.

Yes, we all know that there are kill options on most of these, so technically you can still keep them alive. But we also know that Bioware is no longer adept at keeping them in the game for those who chose to save them, so it doesn't mean much. I saved Vette on KOTET. I think she’s sent one email to me. That’s it. That’s her inclusion in the story now.  At this point, we're so low on surviving characters that we're getting ones dug up from Esseles and the heroic quest givers, and even they're biting the dust. Is Bioware bringing everyone back just to slaughter them? Is there any point getting attached or engaged with any new characters introduced since Bioware's likely going to murder them presently?   And yet, people are asking for more? They want Bioware to keep doing this? There have been complaints that this or that character gets too much screen time, but when you kill everyone else off around them, what the fuck do you think is going to happen? Do you think killing off more characters and thus giving the writers less to play with in their sandbox will make that situation change?   I'm really wondering what's going to be left in the game. We're going to end up getting our quests from the damned gonk droid because they've killed everyone else off, created an environment where there's nobody familiar and nothing more than an endless parade of characters who appear and die, and it's already making the story much less engaging, IMHO.

[modernagesomniari]

Fic - ‘The Wrong Game’

Part 15 (15!?!?!) of my Mala Suledin Nadas series, which follows my playthrough of Ellana Lavellan.  All the stories can pretty much be read on their own, but there is continuity through them.  You can check out the whole series here or read this chapter in isolation on AO3 here.

So, I'd just finished Hushed Whispers and done the rounds back at Haven, which meant that Eli and Vivienne's relationship by this point basically involved two flaming rows about the status of mages. However, the next thing I did was complete Viv's first war table quest, which rewards you with her approval. This didn't make sense to me, so I wrote a thing that made it make sense i.e. Eli is crap at politics and asks Viv's advice despite disagreeing with her. This speaks of a practicality and humility Vivienne approves of (plus we get a sneak peak of how Eli may or may not SLAY the Winter Palace).

*********************

After their second strong disagreement about the status of mages, Vivienne is dismayed to see Herald coming in her direction again.

The Wrong Game

It had been quite some time since Vivienne had needed to calm herself down this way.  Intellectually, she knew why this was different, but that neither made the anger less potent nor curbed the irritation at being made to feel it.  Perhaps she had been at court for too long - she was getting lazy.

It wasn’t just that she disagreed with this new Herald of Andraste - she had disagreed with many people before.  Nor was it that the Herald existed outside of the Game - Vivienne had taken great pleasure in instructing many scholars from all over Thedas of their academic failings.  No, this particular woman was infuriating because her logic had no bearing to the Game at all.  Nor to the Chantry.  Vivienne was more than adept at wielding her learning to point out the flaws in most foolish arguments like Lavellan’s, but her reasoning meant nothing to this girl.  On the contrary, they had barely made it to the more mainstream discussions around mage rights, so busy had they been questioning the fundamental definition of mages that made those discussions relevant.

Lack of preparation, that was what was making her so angry, Vivienne realised.  When Lavellan had rebutted any question of the necessity of mage towers using the Dalish as an example of a society that needed no such thing, Vivienne did not have the tools available to argue the point.  As such she was reduced to simply dismissing the point outright, which felt beneath her.  She was no novice, of course. As soon as she had found out that the Herald was both a mage and a Dalish elf she had combed the library of the Winter Palace for every useful tome on the culture she hadn’t yet read.  That, she quickly learned, was precious few.  Not because she had read them all, but because every account of elven culture that was available was either monstrously out of date or so steeped in mind-numbingly simplified Chantry rhetoric she felt momentarily ashamed for the entirety of the Orlesian academic elite.

Thus, she had come to an argument she was not expecting, that had turned in a direction she should have foreseen, woefully unprepared.  This was not a situation she cared to repeat, although she was slightly at a loss for how not to.  The Herald clearly distrusted her greatly now - there was a defensiveness in her last few sentences that precluded a rather dull mental attitude suggesting any further actual intellectual debate was going to turn predictably cumbersome and personally affronted.  How exceedingly dull.  She was aware she could not blame the Herald for such an attitude.  It seemed to be true that the Dalish did not have the space to carry books with them, so Lavellan couldn’t be accustomed to truly rigorous intellectual discourse, but Vivienne would have appreciated a little more time to gather the information about Dalish culture she needed before they got to the bullish stage.

She had developed just enough of a headache that the sight of the Herald darting out of the war room at the back of the Chantry had her sigh and turn to her books, away from the main body of the building.  She did not wish to get into this discussion again, so did rather hope that the girl would pass her on her way out.

“Madame Vivienne?”

No such luck, it would seem.

“I am rather busy, darling.  Perhaps we can pick this up another time.”

“Oh.  It will only take a moment, I’m sure.  I was wondering if I could ask your advice.”

Well that was unexpected.  Vivienne turned, shrewd eyes skirting over the Herald’s crude (if rather fetching) attire to her face, where she noticed a slight rise of colour to her cheeks, a distinct widening of the eyes.  Something had shaken her, clearly.  

“My advice?” she asked, knowing that for all the frost in her voice she might as well be standing back with her arms crossed.  Lavellan did not look reassured.  Good. “I believe we just established that my advice is not particularly welcome.”

“Not on magic.  I think we’ve discussed that enough for today.” Lavellan said quietly, adding a rather surprisingly self-deprecating chuckle before looking directly up into Vivienne’s eyes.  She had courage, Vivienne had to give her that much.  

Those big green eyes still slightly panicky, the Herald took a step towards her and her words all came out in a rush.  “I was in the war room and they’re asking me to make some decisions because they can’t agree, which is fine.  But there’s a problem just south of Val Royeux to do with the letter your friend sent and it’s to do with some nobles?  Of different families?  That I can’t remember the names of?  And they’re having some disagreements about…about…um…something and the advisors want me to help them decide what to do.  Me.  Me, Madame Vivienne.  Ellana Lavellan, First of Clan Lavellan.  Being, as that name suggests, Dalish.  And I thought to myself ‘why on earth invite an expert on the Orlesian court to join the Inquisition if you’re not going to use her’?  Because, for some reason, they seem to think I’m qualified.”

There was something unavoidably charming about the genuine panic in her face that Vivienne was fighting a losing battle not to be swayed by.  Apparently, however, the Herald wasn’t finished.  “I know we don’t see eye to eye on some things.  And I’m not stupid, so your advice wouldn’t be wasted.  It’s just not my area of expertise and I know it’s yours.  Will you advise me?”

Vivienne considered her and Lavellan, rather surprisingly, let her do it.  She had to admit, she was rather taken aback by this approach.  She had assumed that Lavellan would have taken such offence to their earlier disagreement that Vivienne would now be spurned to the Herald’s detriment.  Still.

“You are aware we come from very different backgrounds, my dear?”

“That’s sort of the point, Madame Vivienne, yes. No one knows woods better than those who have had to survive in them except those who have learned to thrive in them.  My woods are made up of actual trees.  Yours are noble families with bewilderingly similar names.”

Vivienne resolved not to let the Herald see her smile at that particular comment, though from the sparkle of mischief in those same eyes that were so wide a moment ago, she perceived she had possibly failed.

“And you trust me to help you navigate these woods?”

Lavellan cocked her head, something like a smile on her face.  Vivienne realised, not pleasantly, that it seemed she herself was being considered now.  Whatever Lavellan had decided made her nod to herself, the grin widening.  Goodness but she would never survive the Game.

“No.”

Vivienne’s eyebrows raised, pausing her own assumption in its tracks.  Never say that Madame de Fer did not learn from the scant few mistakes she made.

“No?”

“No.  However, I do trust that you have your own ideas about what is best in this situation and how best to resolve it so I think I can learn a lot from listening and watching you hunt in these woods.  I also trust that you will see this as an opportunity to further any agenda you have yourself, which will be just as educational for me.  You can learn just as much about hunting by being hunted as you can by hunting something yourself.”

Well.  It had been a long time since anyone had stood in front of Vivienne and accused her to her face of planning to manipulate them.  Oh, plenty of inferences and innuendo, but never flat out.  She found it rather invigorating.

“What made you be honest with me?”

Lavellan was surprised enough by her choice of question that she laughed.  A little too loudly, so the sound echoed in the Chantry proper and she flinched a little, coming closer with a conspiratorial smile like they’d both just been nearly caught filching chocolates from a Senior Enchanter’s desk.

“I don’t have much experience with the Game,” she admitted in an almost whisper.  “But I do get the impression that plain talking isn’t part of it.  Which made me wonder whether it wasn’t then actually quite a good weapon if used right.  The huntmaster never let me go on hunts because he thought I’d be no use,” she explained at Vivienne’s questioning look.  “Then I helped my brother win a contest by freezing a deer solid so it wouldn’t run from his bow and the look on his face was like he’d just swallowed a wasps’ nest!”

“Wasn’t that cheating, my dear?”

“Not at all,” Lavellan replied, affecting an extremely convincing innocent look.  It was the touch of affronted, Vivienne thought, that sold it.  “My brother was allowed to pick a second to help him.  He picked me.  The fact that the huntmaster had already decided I was useless was his mistake, not ours.”

Vivienne had underestimated this apostate.  She had underestimated her greatly.  A small approving smile graced her lips and she watched Lavellan notice, hope and challenge in her smirk.  Vivienne could not find it in herself to care, impressed very much by Lavellan’s clear attitude to her assets and resources.  That her pride after an argument was not going to get in the way of her practicality was an aspect to her personality Vivienne very much appreciated.  Perhaps, despite their differences, she could still get her to listen, to make sure that no more damage was done to Vivienne’s people.  This war was taking its toll and the stakes had never been so high.  She couldn’t begin to forgive herself if she didn’t use every talent and skill the Maker had entrusted her to develop to protect and elevate those people who now so desperately needed someone on their side.  Whether they could see it or not.

Which meant keeping the Herald sweet.  The Herald who had just proved that she might be a lot more useful as an ally and dangerous as an enemy than Vivienne had initially predicted.  It was rather delicious being wrong.  Not that the Herald needed to know anything of the sort.

“I assume,” She began, moving away towards the open doors and expecting Lavellan to follow (which she did), “That you refer to the rumours that the Divine is not, in fact, dead?”

“Yes!” Lavellan replied, relief evident in her voice as it appeared that Vivienne was indeed going to help.  “Only apparently just refuting it doesn’t work and we need to choose carefully what we say to who and when?”

Vivienne looked down at her, seeing nothing but an earnest desire to learn in Lavellan’s upturned eyes.  She didn’t trust that look for a second.  This assignment she’d given herself had just got significantly more interesting.

How marvellous.  

[theharellan]

so far i’ve read three trees to midnight, horror of hormak, and callback. i’m trying to practise restraint and leave the last story until i’m at least done with my initial read-through of the material most relevant to my characters which ksjdf. is very hard but here’s notes i’ve taken so far:

oh and btw pls dont r/b this!

if you want a pretty good demonstration of why solas and cole speak with discomfort about how spirits are used in thedas, “wisp darts” may be a pretty good example. it’s likely the wisps aren’t fully-formed spirits, more akin to the pieces of pieces cole refers to the mortalitasi using. still a pretty callous way to use something that has some presence, even if it’s not a person.

there’s a reference to a talented tevinter mage healer being able to reattach arms with magic, through use of spirits.

there is a lot of discord among the qunari rn, both within different arms and without. the bas-taar, the antaam keeper of bas slaves, essentially, thinks of the ashaad with disdain-         “even the black-and-white-striped vitaar that painted the huntmaster’s face was  drawn to symbolise sight, finding, rather than battle and power, as befitted the antaam.” funnily the huntsmaster is actually not antaam but ben-hassrath, therefore a priest, but that his attitude doesn’t draw notice indicates this isn’t abnormal for the ashaad. so like not only do at least some of the antaam and ben-hassrath have beef, but there’s beef within the antaam.

if i read it right, the dwarven deep roads gave way to purely elven ruins, and the warden narrator notes that this isn’t completely unheard of. not only that but there are dwarven carvings of elves, and it’s only later the elven bas-relief take over. i’ll prob need to reread to wrap my head about it, i wonder the relation between the dwarves and elves there.

fucked up as the art itself was, i love the glimpse we got into true elven art. the lack of age made me pause-- solas indicates that spirits can preserve things, so it could be that, or could someone be upkeeping it? and the change the art went through, going from healing to putting the hurt (the taint?) into people. whether this is just ramesh’s perception changing or magic idk, but i also wouldn’t be surprised if ancient elven magic shifted as the viewer looked at it, too.

solas’ reasoning for discomfort abt the wardens grows tbh when i think about the art. while the wardens don’t change themselves the way (what i assume to be) ghilan’nain’s creations have, they are still taking the blight into them oftentimes unwillingly. it’s the sort of parallel that would be difficult to let go to say the least.

there was a yellow-green lyrium stone hanging from the ceiling, something we’ve apparently only seen before in the hissing wastes (around rifts). cole makes reference to it being a result of venatori trying to make red lyrium “less angry,” which i guess would make sense given all the blight around the lyrium? but who knows if they’re connected. it’s a pretty good bet that green lyrium is somehow touched or related to the Fade/sky in ways the blue stuff isn’t.

a lot about the spirit of regret made me wonder both about it and about solas. there was a lot to it that didn’t match up to solas’ motivations-- glee in the dread that was coming, for example, doesn’t match, calling itself the regret of a god. this is honestly expected as spirits don’t create perfect replicas, tho still interesting. and that what felled it wasn’t a lack of regret, but an ownage of said regret. idk i feel it has greater implications for “demons” because things like pride, desire, rage aren’t bad but natural human emotions, and sometimes necessary or even good. this ramble is just becoming the plot to pixar’s inside out. regret was a good and i wish things had ended less violently for it, even if it will likely reform in the fade. i will be putting more stuff out abt regret tbh b/c i like to think it and solas spoke prior to him leaving the inquisition but for now i’ll leave it be.

the implications for solas? - “I regret acting alone!” / “I regret using my friends!” / “I regret now!” as sutherland himself notes it seems like he was echoing the regret that drew it to skyhold, and all these things apply to solas 1000%. the thing about solas’ relationship with regret is that while he does “own it” in the sense that he will admit regretting-- a lot of things, and often-- his relationship with it is pretty unhealthy and doesn’t lead him to new paths, at least not as of now. he’s regretful but also feels stripped of other choices. - “There might have been a better choice, said a thought it had not been allowed.” this line makes me think about inquisitors who vowed to redeem solas, specifically thora, but what else is new there. namely, the lines at the end of his trespasser screne aren’t so much in the spirit of “save our friend from himself, if we can” but “i’ll show you there’s another way.” which is much closer to how i imagine the threat solas poses could be nullified (without just pure opposition, anyway, which imo may solve the solas dilemma but would just be slapping a bandage on a world that’s bleeding out). - that the final fresco became the scene of flemythal’s death and that the figure was both lupine and reptilian obvs confirms that it was absorption and not possession which, thanks i hated that theory for many reasons. whether the implication is that solas has lost some of his own identity as a result or it’s merely symbolic we’ll see, i guess. i do personally hc that it changes his relationship with his own magic and not necessarily for the better. - tbh the moral sutherland and the order from divine victoria is interesting considering-- regret did accept and move on? which has implications for more than just solas but spirits in general. idk i’ll talk abt this one more once a) i reread it and b) i read the other relevant stories for solas b/c i know there’s more

on a brighter note, it was sweet and so good to see the inquisition from the POV of people not in the inner circle. i loved the note of skyhold being stripped bare by people taking keepsakes, and how much it meant to sutherland

overall so far i think my fave has been three trees to midnight, i thought the chemistry between the characters rang the most true. i’ll have to go back and reread down among the dead mean as i know it has spirit-relevant stuff but i wanted to read horrors of hormak......... so.

oh i wanted to add if you’d like more coherent summaries, i’d suggest felassan’s tevinter nights tag. everything i talk abt in here will prob end up rewritten on solas or my multimuse (like the qunari stuff is relevant to tetrak) rn it’s just........... words.

[ilianchant]

sunrunnerrs asked: “let me tell you something, i’m getting pretty sick and tired of all the dumb things that go on around here.”

The nights at the Trueshot Lodge were almost peaceful. The crisp and cold air of the peaks of Highmountain sometimes made it difficult to see the vast canopy of stars spanning over them, but it felt like that was their only problem, for a few moments. Not the threat of the Burning Legion consuming everything they held dear, something the Elves knew quite a bit, now. - 

During those nights, Vanora found herself often around the fires on the grounds, offering a bit of warmth when she buried herself in the bear fur. She was used to Thalassian temperatures of an eternal spring, not the freezing mountain air, after all. Sometimes, the Unseen Path even found themselves in the presence of the Huntmaster too. Not that she was seeking her out; but sometimes, fractions of conversations were caught. 

“Huntmaster!” Her tone is sharp; the voice of a woman who is used to giving orders and yell those over a group of unruly recruits, making herself heard. Her gaze rested on the other elf. 

“I am shocked by your potty mouth!” There was a smirk in the left corner of her mouth, barely visible.

source: TIKTOK | @sunrunnerrs​

[maverick-werewolf]

Patreon Updates - Tier changes, new tier art, new goodie bag reward, and more

Click here to read this on my Patreon instead!

$5 Packmate tier art

I'm making a few changes here and there to this Patreon, both to try to improve its wording and to add a new reward...

New reward! - At $50 and up (Nightlord and Apex Predator tiers), you will now occasionally receive a goodie bag! These are physical rewards. Please note that, since I don't make physical rewards on a regular basis, these goodies bags will be a once in a while thing. They won't be monthly and there won't be a guarantee of when exactly you might get one, but you're more likely to get one around certain holidays (like Christmas). These goodies may include but are not limited to Wulfgard and Nova Refuge merch and custom LEGO minifigures.

And all tiers now have new art! I redrew the existing art and colored them.

$1 Pup tier art

Here is an overview of some of the changes to existing things...

Story previews - I have altered the wording of the story previews reward some: instead of guaranteed monthly short stories, I am now posting previews of my newest rough drafts whenever I can. These will include rough draft previews of novel chapters and short stories. I altered this wording because, when I enter the editing and revising phases of publishing my works, I can't focus on posting new rough drafts of short stories each month as a guarantee. Also, these previews will be removed a few months to a year after they are posted, as the writing in question goes on to be edited and eventually published. In other words, these previews are only available for a few months or so after they are posted. Read them while you can, if you want to see the rough drafts early!

$20 tiers and up (Huntmaster, Nightlord, and Apex Predator) - I have removed the prompt request reward. I was not receiving any prompts, anyway, so I figure no one will be too upset to see it gone. Sorry about that! But since no one was using it, anyway, I figured it may be best to simply remove it for the time being. It may come back in the future.

$20 tier (Huntmaster) removed - I have removed the $20 tier for the time being. I am planning some other, different tiers in the future, but the $20 tier saw no activity, so it's gone for now.

$50 Nightlord tier; design is one of my werewolf characters, but I won’t tell you who yet

Please note that, yes, everyone $100 and up will receive a signed copy of The Werewolf: Past and Future when I receive author copies, just like all my other published works. I hope this will happen before the end of the month (I'm really hoping that third and final proof gets here at the start of the coming week).

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I'm strongly considering adding a few new tiers to the Patreon, as well, but I am still working on those. Keep an eye out... they may just pop up.

$10 Mooncaller tier art

Until next time!

Click here to check out my Patreon!

[shadowphoenixrider]

Matters of the Heart

(This took...way too long. And is very long, at around 7,000 words! It took a while to get them talking, and they wouldn’t shut up. This is a continuation of Heart of the Matter, where Draggka, Khadgar and Varian sit down to have a chat about Draggka and Khadgar’s relationship. This is running in the A Prayer You Can Borrow universe by @galleywinter, which is why Varian is still kicking.)

(As usual, here are the mentions of the people who like to read my stuff! Hopefully Tumblr actually sends notifications to them: @walkingdisasterofamage, @sigurdjarlson, @fer8girl, @elfgirl931 and @wingslovesfiction )

“I can’t believe dat I be doing dis.” Draggka said, running a hand through her hair. Spike made a sympathetic rumble, his head resting across her lap.

“I confess, I didn’t think this would happen so soon.” Khadgar replied, fidgeting with a small yellow crystal. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Draggka. If I’d not lost my temper in front of Varian-”

“It be okay, Khadgar.” She interrupted him, waving a hand. “What’s done be done.”

She petted her raptor’s head to soothe her nerves, listening to his soft rumble vibrate in his throat. Of all the conflicts she’d been in, of all the people and creatures she’d faced down, the thought of meeting Varian Wrynn was currently the most frightening. The troll glanced back to the archmage, sitting across from her.

“You, ya be staying wit me, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Khadgar flicked the crystal away, taking her hands and squeezing them gently between his own. “I’ll make sure nothing bad will happen to you. Not that Varian would harm you, but your comfort is paramount. I will be right here. As will Spike.” He nodded to her companion, who blinked up at her and uttered an affirmative grunt.

“Ya make it sound like dere might be a chance of a fight.” Draggka said, trying to keep calm and not look towards where she’d put Thas’dorah aside. Khadgar shook his head.

“Doubtful. Varian is not looking for one. If anything starts up, however, I am well prepared,” he said. A moment of silence, before he squeezed her hands again. “It will be alright, my darling. Nothing bad will happen. And nothing will stop me from loving you.”

The weight of his words was emphasized by the seriousness in his eyes, his gaze locked with hers. She trusted him, and she did have Spike with her. Lo’Gosh’s champion may be a formidable warrior, but he hopefully wouldn’t go through Khadgar to get to her. Hopefully.

She took a breath, and nodded.

“Okay.”

Khadgar squeezed her hands again, and then grinned.

“Spike’ll eat him if he tries to hurt you. Won’t you, Spike?” He said to the raptor, who agreed with a growl and by baring his teeth, a glint in his blue eyes.

“Dat...might not be da best idea.” Draggka replied reticently, resting a restraining hand on Spike’s neck. Before she could say anything more, heavy rapping on the door interrupted her, Spike’s head snapping up to attention. Unbidden, her hand went for where her bow would usually be, tension tightening through her body.

“That must be Varian.” Khadgar said calmly, rubbing his thumb against her hand. “Stay here. I’ll just be a moment.” He flashed her an earnest smile, before rising from his chair to greet their visitor. Draggka busied her hands by petting Spike, who kept his eyes on the door, though he glanced back at her occasionally, offering soft croons in reassurance.

There was some chatter by the door in Common; Khadgar’s friendly warmth and the deeper, more authoritative tone that made stones sink into the bottom of her belly. He’s not here to hurt you. Khadgar’s here, he won’t let anyone hurt you.

Two pairs of footsteps carried Khadgar and his visitor into view, and despite her best efforts, Draggka couldn’t control the spike of adrenaline that peaked within as she caught sight of the other man.

Varian Wrynn was a behemoth of a man, one of the tallest humans Draggka had ever known, and even if Lo’Gosh hadn’t smile favourably upon him, the man could intimidate all but the most stubborn orcs - appropriate for his status as High King of the Alliance, even if that title was apparently moot for now. The troll was slightly relieved to see that he was in casual leathers like herself, and his great-sword Shalamayne was absent - clearly a great concession Khadgar had managed to broker. That didn’t make Varian any less of a threat however, so she watched his face carefully, as did Spike.

“Varian,” the mage said, “this is Draggka, of the Darkspear tribe.” He gestured. “Draggka, this is Varian Wrynn, the former - well, you know already.” He grinned wryly.

Royal and hunter eyes met in that moment, sending a fearful jolt down her spine. Varian inclined his head slightly in courtly grace.

“Huntmaster,” he said respectfully.

“Ya Majesty.” Draggka replied, trying not to show her anxiety in gripping Spike too tightly, as the raptor continued to stare at the taller man intently.

“You don’t need to address me by that title here, Draggka.” Varian spoke. “I’m only here to talk as a man, not in the capacity of a king or the Alliance.”

“Okay...Varian.” Saying his name didn’t sound right - too informal, and not respectful enough.

She kept these worries silent as he sat in the chair opposite her with a business air - both relaxed and yet not. She didn’t blame him for keeping his guard up, as hers was up as well, and a raptor’s constant stare was bound to be unsettling. Khadgar settled into the chair between them, the clear mediator, even as he outwardly pretended to just be amongst two good friends.

“Would anyone like a pot of tea?” He asked brightly, and immediately Draggka was on edge, shooting him a wide-eyed look. Don’t leave me alone with him! You promised!

“I don’t mind.” She forced out.

“I don’t mind either, but you can brew one if you wish.” Varian replied. Khadgar gave a small nod, and in one fluid motion, he conjured an elemental to his side. He murmured instructions to the creature, which floated off to obey. The mage turned back to Draggka and offered a gentle smile, as if acknowledging her previous panic. She managed a little smile back, feeling foolish for not trusting him.

A long, awkward silence descended between them, broken only by the sound of boiling water.

“Khadgar has told you why we’re here.” Varian broke the silence first, his tone serious.

“Yeah.” Draggka replied. “He accidentally told ya we be together, and ya wanted to be meeting me.”

“Yes.” His gaze pinned her to the chair, and she felt Spike tense up. “I’m sure you understand my caution. Not many trolls and humans pair up together, and both with pure intentions to each other.”

“I be aware of dat.” She nodded. “Ya want to be sure dat ya friend be okay wit me.”

“Exactly.” She caught a flash of something in the monarch’s eyes, too fast to identify. “Khadgar has spoken highly of you, and I trust his word, but it helps me immeasurably to be able to talk to you myself. Try not to think of me as part of the Alliance in this matter, but as a concerned friend.”

“Wit all respect to ya, it be very difficult to do dat.” Draggka said, choosing her words with care. “Ya be da reason dat dere still be a Horde at all.”

“I know.” Varian closed his eyes for a second. “But we are on neutral ground, with a close-to neutral observer, and whatever the outcome of this discussion, we need your leadership of the Unseen Path against the Legion.”

He wasn’t wrong. And the troll suspected he was only saying this because he could feel the fear radiating off of her, one hand gripping Spike’s back (who was still staring at Varian) and the other clamped tightly around the arm of the chair. She consciously relaxed her grip, breathing out a sigh.

“Okay.”

The elemental returned bearing a tea tray at that moment, setting it on the table in front of them. It hovered idly for a moment and Khadgar waved it away with a soft ‘thank you’, pouring the tea himself. Only when he was finished did Draggka speak again.

“Suppose we better be talking ‘bout what happened wit Garrosh den-”

“Draggka...” The mage interrupted her, hand raising slightly as if to clasp her arm.

“I can’t pretend dat I weren’t a part of it when I was, Khadgar.” She shot back, trying to numb her stinging tone. “Better dat we be doing dis now.” Spike glanced back at her with a worried look.

“This wasn’t what I was asking for specifically,” Varian spoke, “but if you are willing to talk about it, I will hear your piece.”

Like you wouldn’t have asked about it anyway, Draggka thought bitterly. You said yourself that our kind ‘don’t pair nicely often’.

“It woulda come back around at some point,” she said instead, lifting a shoulder. She took another breath, rubbing at Spike’s back as she composed herself. The raptor laid his head back down on her lap, his eyes holding a concerned look.

“I knew of Garrosh’s style of leadership from da times I be reporting to him in Northrend.” She began. “He be young an’ headstrong, but he had da energy needed to keep goin’ in da face of da Scourge. Some tings he did an’ said I be disagreeing wit, but...” The troll paused a moment, considering. “But when ya enemy be as terrible as de mindless undead, ya can understand.” She saw Varian nod his head slightly in the corner of her vision, whilst Khadgar listened intently, his face a mask.

“I did not like Go’el leaving da title of Warchief to him durin’ da Cataclysm, but I could understand da logic. And I thought wit Cairne, Vol’jin an’ Eitrigg - I thought dat he be able to mature.”

“And then Cairne died.” Varian said, his deep voice sympathetic, even if she wouldn’t have called it ‘soft’. Draggka bowed her head, and Spike gently nudged her face with his muzzle.

“Dat were out of Garrosh’s control. He were an alright ruler for a time. But he be havin’ a taste for da ‘honour’ brought by war, and he not seem to understand dat he couldn’t take everyting we be needing by force. He did not know da conflict an’ wars dat be bringing us to our peace.”

A thought occurred to her. I don’t think Go’el gave him enough time to adapt. He had years to learn to lead. Garrosh seemed to be thrust upon the situation and left to deal with it. Now was not the time to consider this, however, so she kept it to herself.

“Da first decision I not be comfortable wit was de alliance wit da Dragonmaw. Dey be killing, cutting up dragons...” The hunter shivered, glimpsing the grisly wing-standards in her mind’s eye. “Even if dey were black dragons, it weren’t right.”

“But you agreed with Garrosh otherwise?” There was a hardness to Varian’s tone that shot a bolt of fear into her heart. Spike’s body tensed up, and the archmage gave the royal a warning look.

“No...” Draggka said slowly, dredging her memory. “I trusted Vol’jin’s judgement of Garrosh, but it were easy to distract yaself wit da bigger threat. Perhaps dat be what t...tem...cooled his lust for glory.” She sighed. “Pandaria be bringing out da worst in him.”

“Draggka.” This time Khadgar did reach out to her, resting his hand on hers. You don’t have to say this, his eyes said.

I must, was her reply.

“Ya know a lot of what happened dere, I’m sure. Da destruction of da Jade Serpent statue. Da corruption of da Vale. By da grace of da Loa I weren’t involved wit Theramore.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Dat be when I knew dat Garrosh had lost all his honour.” Her ears drooped, tone flattening and becoming bitter. “But he be my Warchief, and I followed his orders.”

“Not because you wanted to, mind.” Khadgar interjected, sitting up straighter. “I think there was something about seeing your chieftain’s throat slit by Garrosh’s assassins that might have ‘encouraged’ you not to rebel against him.”

The troll knew what the mage was doing, but her hackles prickled regardless.

“Dat not be an excuse!” She spat. Spike whined.

“Was it?” Khadgar parried coolly, but with a determined fire. “You admit you followed orders. But it is only right to acknowledge the duress you found yourself under.”

“If I recall, your people became second-class citizens of the Horde.” Varian spoke calmly. Draggka nodded stiffly.

“Da Echo Isles were put under da guard of da Kor’kron. None allowed to leave or enter. We be barely people in Garrosh’s eyes.” The peons were probably higher than us.

“What?” The archmage’s eyes widened, his shock genuine. “Draggka, you never told me of this.”

“It not be someting I like to remember.” She replied, her gaze moving away to stare at a random patch of wall. “Da Kor ‘kron may have held my people as prisoners, but dey were still as family as any other orc. And I killed every one dat raised an axe against me.” She blinked slowly, sighing. “Dat was da one good ting I did. I tink.”

“I wasn’t aware that Garrosh had attempted to enforce martial law on the Darkspear.” Varian said, a new understanding in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry you had to choose between your people and the Horde.”

“Not dat it mattered.” Was her morose reply. “I still helped steal da Divine Bell from Darnassus. Killed da Silver Covenant in Dalaran.” Spike whined again, nudging her face with his snout.

“The few you did not sedate with wyvern venom, or avoided entirely.” Khadgar added, glancing at Varian.

Draggka opened her mouth to speak again, but the next words refused to come. Their gravity had gotten them caught in her throat, and she struggled for a long moment. Eventually, she hung her head, and when the words finally came, she could only say them just loud enough to be heard.

“Da Bell fell on Anduin, and I did nothing.”

All the warmth in the room vanished in an instant, with a silence so deafening one could hear a pin drop. Spike nuzzled Draggka’s face tenderly, making comforting noises.

“...You were there?” Varian’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion in the ilk of someone having to restrain themselves. Spike froze, tensing up as if he feared his pack-sister might be in danger. The troll managed to nod her answer.

“I be one of da force Garrosh brought to witness the ringing of da Bell,” she said quietly, lifting her head to meet the king’s eyes. “He were so brave, ya son.” The stinging burn of tears forced her eyes closed, Spike warbling sadly. “I watched da Bell fall on him...an’ I did nothing. My greatest dishonour. I shoulda helped him, damn Garrosh! I be so scared of his rage I didn’t help a friend.” She managed to restrain her sob, but not its shoulder-wracking heave. “I left him...I left him...”

“Draggka...” In a moment, Khadgar was next to her, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her close to his body.  She welcomed his comfort, letting herself cry out a couple of sobs to take the pain away, but no more. She was not the one who had suffered the most, and she wouldn’t insult him by drowning in her misery.

“I’m sorry,” she said, clearing her throat and rubbing her eyes, meeting Varian’s gaze. “Dis...I not expect ya forgiveness. Words not gonna undo the harm dat came to him. But I regret it. Always.”

A long silence fell upon them, the tension within it palpable. It took considerable effort for Draggka to hold Varian’s gaze, wanting to instead to bury her head in Khadgar’s chest to hide herself. The royal seemed to be trying to contain his emotions, only just succeeding. Spike had raised himself up, as if ready to leap between them.

“Your honesty is a credit to you.” Varian eventually said, stiffly.

“I’d like to be saying sorry to him in da future, when I be able to. If I be able to.” Draggka added softly. If he could forgive me, she thought to herself.

Another pause, shorter this time.  Khadgar pulled back from his embrace slightly, but did not return to his seat, perched awkwardly on the edge of Draggka’s. Spike finally returned to his sitting position, but kept an eye on the warrior.

“...You called him ‘friend’.” Varian spoke, voice a careful neutral. The hunter was impressed by his restraint.

“Someting close to it. I met him in da Krasarang Wilds, helping da Red Crane and dere students against da Sha. I helped him, be fightin’ alongside him. Talked when we not be doin’ dat.” She paused a second, thinking. “Remember tinking dat he be making a good King.” She shook her head. “Be trying to put a lotta tings right afta Garrosh, but de dishonour I be doin’ against ya son...Dat be wit me ‘til I die.”

Something shifted in Varian’s expression that she couldn’t identify, and she felt the archmage’s hand tenderly engulf hers, reminding her of his presence.

“Why were you not punished for fighting against the occupation of your islands?” Varian asked, shifting the topic.

“I don’t know.” The troll admitted. “I wonder if it were being used as an axe over my head. Perhaps if I were to refuse an order, it would be used against me. Or my brudder.” Self-consciously, she rubbed at her wrists, feeling her scars prickle. “No doubt it woulda been a charge at my execution.”

Khadgar’s grip tightened, his body stiffening, and Varian seemed surprised.

“Execution?”

Draggka nodded.

“Got captured during da Rebellion. Garrosh be coming to gloat at me, an’ I told him to his face dat he no longer be my Warchief.” She shrugged. “He not take kindly to dat. I were in line for a public execution at da next dawn wit a black eye.”

The archmage looked away, his jaw clenched and his lips set into a thin line. The monarch sat back slightly.

“Garrosh must have been at the height of his madness to publicly execute someone known for taking down Deathwing,” he said grimly.

“No.” Draggka shook her head, and almost baulked under Varian’s sudden razor-sharp gaze. “He be many tings, but he were not mad. Blinded by his emotions an’ misguided, but not mad. Not de orc I saw. Dat be why he be so dangerous.” She paused for a moment. “My death were gonna be used to break spirits and take a thorn outta his side. If it be soothing a grudge too, den so be it.”

The royal leaned back fully in his chair, thinking. Draggka took the moment to drink her tea, aware it was probably getting cold. Varian waited until she was finished to speak again.

“Is there anything else you wish to share about your role in Garrosh’s Horde?”

“I were more den happy to kill him.” The troll replied. “Be a shame I never did. It not undo da tings I did under his eyes, but I woulda felt dat I be trying to put tings right. I followed him all da way to the Other Draenor, and left before I be wetting my arrows wit his blood. He be dead, but his stain be on da Horde for years to come.” She looked away, sighing. “I thought Vol’jin were to be our re-, re-, our turn-around, to be better den before.” Her ears drooped. “Now he be dead too.” She felt Khadgar’s hand move to rub her back, and Spike nuzzled her chin.

“You don’t trust Sylvanas?” Varian asked.

“No.” The hunter shook her head. “I’m not sure why Vol’jin be choosing her as da Warchief, but I disagree with his decision. I know some of her people as friends, but her?” Draggka frowned. “I don’t know if she be treating da rest of da Horde da same as da Forsaken. I hope I be wrong. Perhaps he knows more den me. But I not...” She shifted uncomfortably. “I not want to take down another Warchief so soon. But I will if I must. I will not be used again.”

Draggka met Varian’s gaze, hoping the force in her voice and the sincerity in her eyes would help convince him that she meant those words. For his part, his face gave nothing away, but he seemed...content, as if he’d put the last piece of a puzzle into place.

“So,” he began after a sip of tea, “a troll fresh from defeating Garrosh heeded the call from an old hero of the Alliance to defend Azeroth. Why?”

“To defend Azeroth, like ya said.” She responded. “It be my home, an’ I not want it destroyed, regardless of who de invader be.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I not hear da call from Khadgar straight away - it be reaching me through Go’el first. I only realized who it be coming from later.”

“And?”

Draggka looked at Khadgar, settling back into his own chair. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he glanced between hunter and monarch.

“I can put my fingers in my ears, if you wish.” He suggested, a slight smile playing over his lips. The troll turned it over in her mind for a moment.

“I be honest.” She decided. “I were concerned when I found out who ya be. I not know ya well, but I knew da tales. Didn’t tink ya be too pleased by us being dere.”

“I was witness to what the Alliance and Horde could achieve together.” The mage replied, sipping his tea. “I would be a fool to ask for aid from one and not the other.”

Varian set his cup down on the tray, having taken the lull in the conversation to finish it. He looked between them, addressing the hunter again.

“First impressions?” He asked, with clear interest.

“He were not what I expected.” Draggka replied around her cup.

“In a good way, I hope?” Khadgar grinned boyishly (and somewhat nervously).

Varian arched an eyebrow at them.

“Perhaps if you didn’t interrupt her, she’d tell you,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, sorry.” The archmage flushed pink, contrite, and Draggka couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped her.

“I were expecting someone very serious,” she explained. “Just about tolerating da Horde, who knew what he be doing an’ had no sense of humour.” She paused a moment, enjoying the face that Khadgar pulled out of the corner of her eye. “De only ting I were right about was dat he knew what he was doin’. Most of da time.”

“Go on.” Varian was also trying to hide a smile.

“He were friendly, funny, and though he be serious when it counted, he were also completely mad.”

“I’m not that mad.” Khadgar grumbled, folding his arms. Spike snorted.

“Ya brought a dam down on ya head!”

“Yes, but one: it was an entirely necessary action, and two: I didn’t bring it down on myself. I was merely caught by the water before my teleport spell completed.” He argued, folding his arms.

“I thought ya were dead!” Draggka shot back. “I were just starting to like ya, and den ya went and almost get yaself killed!” She blew a sigh out of her nose. “Shoulda taken dat as a warning.”

“A warning?” Varian asked, reminding the pair that he was still there.

“A warning dat he were gonna drive me up the wall.” She glared at the Archmage, who had now sat up to his full height, giving her a steady stare back, one eyebrow arched. Spike chuffed softly, amused. “He were ridiculous, making me an’ my friends go on really dangerous missions to be getting magical items, riskin’ our lives. An’ his! He nearly be getting killed by de Alt-Draenor Garona! Den he nearly be killing me when he be powering up dat ring.” She shook her head at him.

“In my defence,” Khadgar replied, “I did not intend for you to get killed at any point. And you scared me enough times with your antics too! I was sure you had been killed by Blackhand’s flagship explosion! If it hadn’t been for Maraad’s sacrifice...”

Draggka’s heart cringed at the barely hidden pain in Khadgar’s words, but decided to deflect him instead.

“I be used to explosions. I were taught engineering by goblins, afta all.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better.” Was the wizard’s sarcastic response.

“You’re an engineer?” Varian asked, interrupting the squabble. “That’s quite a surprise, since you don’t seem to have modified your bows in any way I would’ve expected an engineer to.”

“Well, I don’t like to be changin’ a bow dat not be my own.” Draggka explained. “Not dat Thas’dorah be needing any mods.” She answered his next question before he spoke. “I prefer bows over guns. I be using dem since I were a whelp. Can see da appeal of guns, but I be havin’ a connection to da bow. My weapon be a part of me, as I be a part of da land I live an’ hunt in. Da lives I take wit it be taken for a reason.” She folded her arms. “If takin’ lives become easy, I worry ‘bout whether I still care ‘bout taking dem. Regardless of whether dey be...” The hunter grasped for words. “Wild or not wild. Like...da difference between a bear an’ me.” She glanced to Khadgar. “Does dat make sense?”

He nodded, as did Varian.

“I see.” The royal said. “Sounds like honour underpins a lot of how you hunt”

“Yes. I be taught by my ma’da, and a tauren hunter when I were older. My brudder be a druid too, so I be seeing his side of it as well. Da way I see it, we be part of da wild, like everyting else. Someting dies so another can live. Dere be nothing wrong wit hunting an animal, but ya gotta respect it, like ya respect ya foe on da battlefield. You make its death mean someting - to feed ya, clothe ya. You use as much of its body as ya can. I leave some of it to my loa, to tank him for da hunt.”

Varian nodded, taking it all in.

“What are your thoughts on Nesingwary?”

Draggka snorted, unable to hide the snarl that curled her lips, a mirror to the one on Spike’s.

“Da fact he even be at da Lodge be a sign of our troubled times. If I not be needing his skill against da Legion, I would never have gone lookin’ for him. I be making it very clear dat he be following my rules when on my turf.” She blew an angry breath out through her nose. “Hunting for sport I can understand - I be pitting myself against powerful creatures sometimes as a test of skill. What matters is dat ya honour dere sacrifice, da fight. I give dem back to da Loa, feast upon dere flesh, turn dere skin into armour. To take a trophy and just leave da rest to rot be disgusting. Dishonourable.”

“I see.” Varian’s tone was its usual measured calm, but the troll could tell he was surprised at the venom she had for the dwarven hunter. She felt embarrassment prickle at the nape of her neck as her emotions settled.

“Uh, sorry. Dat...kinda went off on a different trail. What were we talking about?”

“No need to apologise.” Varian waved a hand. “You were talking about how Khadgar was risking your life in Draenor.” His brows furrowed. “So far it just sounds he was an annoyance to you.”

Shame cut sharply into her heart, and her face flushed.

“Oh, he weren’t dat bad!” She said hurriedly. “He be annoying at times, b-but not any more den anyone else!” She swallowed, trying to regain some composure. “I thought he not be wanting to get too close to da Horde afta all he’s been through, but he were kind to us. Friendly.”

Draggka glanced away, noticing Spike watching her curiously.

“Afta everyting dat be happening, I be feeling...Wit him, I not be feeling like a monster. Jus’...Jus’ a person. He makes me laugh a lot, and he be smart. Very smart. When he not be sending me on nearly impossible missions, we be talking for hours. ‘Bout all sorts of tings.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Sometimes I were wishing  I weren’t da Commander so I could be wit him for longer.”

“Perhaps.” Khadgar spoke, his voice soft. “But there was none better for the job, I think.”

Draggka shot him a wry look.

“Ya say dat when da Highlord be around, but ok.” She returned her attention back to Varian. “We were friends, as much as a human and a troll could be. Not even crossed my mind dat we could be anyting more.” Spike shifted against her, and she petted his head. “I not had anyone I be loving dat not be friend or family before. I did not realize dat I be havin’ feelings for him ‘til my brudder pointed dem out to me. Didn’t expect dat dey be returned, not...not ever. What be a legendary hero of de Alliance want to be wit a troll hunter from da Horde, who be killing his own people? And yet...here we be.”

She met Khadgar’s eyes. His smile warmed her, and she reached out to take his hand in hers.

“I love him, ya...Highness. Sometimes he be driving me crazy or making me scared for my life, but I care for him wit everyting I have. I want him to be safe an’ happy an’ to never have to be upset ever again. If I can be giving him dose tings, I will. He be...he be more den I deserve, and whatever be bringing us together, I tank it every day.”

Draggka took a breath, and sighed.

“I be hoping one day dat de war can be over, and de wounds can be healing enough for us to be together witout hiding.” Her ears drooped. “I...I don’t tink dat day will ever come sometimes, but I be living in hope.”

Khadgar squeezed her hand.

“It will, darling,” he said. “It will. It must.”

“I see...” Varian looked between them, assessing, before he folded his arms. “Say the war ended tomorrow. Both against the Legion, and between the Alliance and Horde. What would you do?”

“Celebrate, probably.” Draggka replied. “Finally let my friends know who I been dating all dis while.” She closed her eyes, bringing her dreams into her mind’s eye. “Jus’...being able to hold his hand an’ not worry. Hug him when I be needin’ him. Kiss him to stop him saying dose puns.”

The archmage chuckled richly.

“Oh come now, Huntmaster,” he said, leaning close to her. “We both know you love them.” He grinned as she pushed him away, unable to hide her own smile.

“Dere be so many places I wanna take him - take you to,” she said. “I wanna take ya to da Echo Isles. To Thunder Bluff, to walk through da great gates of Orgrimmar hand in hand...” A sigh. “I just want for it to be okay for us to be together. Dat’s all.”

“That’s understandable, but...” Varian leaned forwards, face serious. “If something happens, and the war between us gets worse...You will need to choose a side.”

“Varian-” Khadgar spoke, but the monarch quickly raised a hand to stop him.

“Neutral or not, you are still human, Khadgar. Draggka and other friendly Horde champions may be able to vouch for you, but others will only see a human mage. The Sunreavers still nurse wounds from the Kirin Tor, which would only galvanise them against you. Whether you like it or not, the Horde will shut you out.”

He turned to Draggka then, his face still hard with the gravity of his words, but his eyes were softer with empathy.

“And I doubt the Horde would look kindly upon a member spending time with a human, regardless of their allegiance.”

Draggka wanted to retort otherwise, but Varian was right and she knew it. Being more than friendly with Khadgar would brand her as a traitor - even now, in the midst of the Legion’s invasion. If she was lucky, she’d be exiled, along with any of her friends who tried to defend her. The thought made her heart go cold.

At her silence, Varian continued, his voice softer.

“I understand what you’ve been through, and I’m pointing this out because Khadgar is my friend. A very good, old friend. I want him to be safe, likely as every bit as much as you do. Whatever you choose, there will be danger and consequences. If possible, I would like warning of which ones. If, of course, you have an inkling of your future choice.”

Draggka considered his words and her response carefully, searching her heart and deeper feelings. She hoped she could articulate her answer in Common that could be understood.

“...Da Horde been my home for a long time.” She began slowly, haltingly. “It an’ Spike been de only tings I had ‘til my brudder be coming back from da Echo Isles. I believed in it - Go’el’s Horde. Den Garrosh...he broke all dat. Den it became me and da Horde - not da one I knew, a different one. Even when Vol’jin be leading, I...I...” She struggled for the words, hands gesturing uselessly. “I be a part of da Horde. But da Horde...da Horde not be a part of me. Not like it were before.” She glanced between the two men, watching their faces anxiously.

Khadgar’s eyes flicked back and forth rapidly as he parsed her words.

“You’re a member of the Horde, and consider yourself a part of it...” He spoke slowly. “But you don’t feel like you are the Horde. Like you belong to it.” He tilted, raven-like. “Am I close?”

The troll nodded, a small smile flashing across her face. Trust Khadgar to understand.

“Yeah. I still be Horde, but da tings I do not be in dere name.” She took a breath, meeting Varian’s eyes. “If dey make me choose between dem an’ Khadgar, I be choosin’ him.”

The mage choked.

“You...you really mean that?” He asked, astonishment stark in his cursed features.

“Ya mean more to me den da Horde does.” Draggka replied, looking back to him. “I choose you every time.”

“You’re aware of the risks you’ll be taking, aren’t you?” Varian’s calm tone sounded out.

“I lived under da eyes of Hellscream. I know what de consequences be.” Emboldened, the hunter rose to her full height, lifting her chin. “If Sylvanas be tinking I be choosing her over my mate, she be sorely mistaken.”

Varian's eyebrows lifted with surprise, even as something tugged at the corner of his lips.

“‘Mate’?” He asked, sounding amused. Heat rose into the hunter’s cheeks at her slip - perhaps this was exactly how Khadgar had given the game away weeks before. Thankfully said mage quickly intervened as she grasped for words.

“‘Mate’ for the Darkspears i-is our version of ‘romantic partner’.” He explained, flushing pink. “I believe that ‘life-mate’ would be our equivalent of a married couple, yes?” He looked to her for guidance, looking a bit like a deer in the torchlight.

“Yeah.” She nodded vigorously. “Yeah, we not be...that joined.” She cleared her throat, becoming serious. “I know I not be da best person around. I done terrible tings dat I never be making up for. But I love Khadgar wit everyting I have. He be my pack-mate, my family, my home. I rather die den hurt him, an’ kill any dat tink dey can get me to betray him.” Draggka’s orange eyes blazed for a moment, before she calmed. “If ya believe only one ting I say, let it be dat I would never harm Khadgar.”

“And I believe her.” Khadgar added. “I trust her. In all things. With everything.”

Varian sat back with a thoughtful hum, closing his eyes. Although he was clearly turning things over in his mind, Draggka had a feeling he was no less alert than he had been speaking to her. It was like sitting in the room with an actual wolf - though she was mostly convinced she wouldn’t be attacked at the slightest sneeze, the troll was still careful to make no moves that could be seen as aggressive.

After a long, quiet moment, Varian opened his eyes again, and though they were as carefully inscrutable as usual, they seemed...content. And bright.

“Thank you for your time Draggka, Khadgar.” He bowed his head to each of them in turn. “It has been enlightening to speak with you.”

“And you.” Draggka bowed her head in return. Though you got more out of me than I will ever get out of you.

“Sooo...Everything’s okay?” Khadgar asked, eyes flicking all over Varian’s face anxiously. “You’re comfortable with me seeing Draggka?”

“To be certain, I would have to get to know her.” A smile graced Varian’s scarred features. “But it is clear to see that your feelings for her are genuinely returned.” His gaze shifted to the hunter. “I’m convinced that you are not a danger to my friend, but don’t think I won’t keep an eye on you.”

“I be tinking as much.” Draggka replied, shrugging.

“Varian, please. There’s no need to coddle me.” Khadgar grumbled. “I can look after myself.”

Several instances that contradicted that statement immediately popped into Draggka’s head and she rolled her eyes. Spike also snorted derisively, shooting the mage a look. For a brief moment, she and Varian’s eyes met, and it was clear to see that he was equally unconvinced.

Khadgar caught their looks, and his raven guise would have ruffled his feathers.

“What?”

“You’re lucky to have a number of champions around you, making sure your schemes go almost to plan.” Varian said diplomatically.

“You know me. I work with the best.” Khadgar preened, flashing a wink at Draggka. He either didn’t notice the younger man’s subtle jab, or was choosing to ignore it.

“Hmm.” Varian pushed himself to his feet with a warrior’s elegance. “I must take my leave. Be safe, both of you.” He bowed his head to them again.

“You too, Varian.” Khadgar returned the gesture. “Take care.”

“Good hunting.” Draggka replied.

Formalities performed, Varian left without another word, closing the door behind him. Silence was left in his wake, in which the troll found tension was locked into her shoulders and hands, even when she thought most of it had eased over time. She felt tension leave Spike as well, and the raptor sighed, flopping from her lap to the floor like a wet rug. Khadgar was still looking after Varian, but his gaze was elsewhere, his mind chewing over what had occurred.

“So...” Draggka began.

“That...went alright.” Khadgar said. He blinked out of his apparent trance, clasping her hands between hers. “Light, Draggka, I’m so sorry about the-”

“It be okay.” She waved his words off. “Garrosh be gone now - I can’t be letting his shadow weigh me down forever. And Varian needed to know. Better just be honest ‘bout it now den have him dig it up later.”

“I would have preferred if you’d not relived it.” The mage replied, squeezing her hands. “But I think he appreciated it.” A pause. “I think we’re alright. He seems to at least think you’re not out to do me harm, physical or otherwise. Which is a good start!”

Draggka tilted her head.

“What would ya have done if he said no?” She asked curiously.

“Consider what he said and let him go.” Khadgar replied matter-of-factly. “If I thought he was talking rubbish, I would continue seeing you in secret.”

“What if ya thought he had a point?”

“Then we would talk about it.” The archmage regarded her with an arched brow. “I do not intend to throw away our love on a whim, and certainly not on the sole testimony of one person who has spoken to you for an hour. I doubt we would have ever gotten this far if I didn’t love and trust you as much as I do.” A small smile played around his mouth. “Varian’s endorsement is certainly welcome, but I have adored you as deeply as is without it, and I will continue to adore you regardless.”

Draggka couldn’t help but smile back, warmth bubbling up in her heart, even as concern gnawed on her.

“Ya sure ‘bout dat? He not be pleased if he found out ya be sneaking behind his back.”

“No, but I have made it clear to him that I am a neutral entity now.” Khadgar replied. “I might identify with the Alliance, but I will not turn my back on the Horde champions that have helped me.” His eyes flashed with a defiant glee. “Varian can try to order me if he likes, but I will decide whether to obey or not.”

I hope you don’t regret it in the future. Draggka couldn’t help but think, yet she kept her mouth shut. In the brief moment of pause, the mage’s smile became gentle.

“Thank you for agreeing to this, darling. I know it was hard for you.”

“Yeah.” The troll smiled wryly. “Not as bad as I was tinking it would be, but I be glad you be here wit me.”

“Of course.” He squeezed her hands. “It was the least I could do.”

They lingered for a moment, before the wizard blew a breath out of his nose.

“I suppose you should return to your demon-slaying duties,” he said, his smile no longer reaching his eyes.

“Yeah. Da Legion not wait for us.” Draggka nodded sadly, rising out of her chair with her raptor at her heels.

“It would certainly be decent of them if they did, but alas, they are rather lacking in that quality.” Khadgar commented, watching as she donned her armour and bow. When she returned to him, he reached out, gently pulling her closer by her waist. “Be safe, darling. Come back in one piece.”

“You too, Ba’la.” Draggka replied, resting her forehead against his. “Keep yaself safe.”

“I will.” He leaned up to kiss her, slowly and softly, giving her the time to commit it to memory before he pulled away. “Good hunting, my love.”