#if you want to resolve something with combat you have a whole set of rules and a million options
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ineskew · 22 days ago
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played a session of d&d the other day that reminded me how much 5e isn't designed for investigation and diplomacy. it's a combat game; actual roleplay is barely supported by the rules
we spent half the session going in circles trying to convince someone to do something without knowing anything about him, and even with insight & persuasion checks to help it still took us 2+ hours to get to the heart of things. we wanted more information but couldn't figure out how to ask the right questions in character; the dm wanted to tell us but didn't know how to get us there without breaking the fourth wall. we only made a handful of rolls, and most of the session was just unstructured talking (not a bad thing, but further evidence that d&d isn't really designed for this)
i would have killed for a pbta-style "discern realities"/"read a person"/"assess the situation"/"investigate a mystery" roll to give the conversation more structure. instead of making me roll a general insight check and parceling out information my character could realistically intuit, give me the chance to ask questions directly. with the right gm, "what here is not what it appears to be?" or "how could i get your character to ___?" would have cracked that negotiation open without giving the whole game away. instead we just... kept going in circles
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lazuliquetzal · 1 year ago
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Tell me your thoughts about gameplay and story integration in video games :3
(THANKS ILY TOO!)
Video games are a super interesting medium because it's all about leveraging player behavior and choice. A lot of game design fundamentals are about giving the player freedom, or the illusion of freedom. The game maker sets the rules, and the player organically develops behaviors and strategies within those rules. If you want the player to act a certain way, you have to encourage them to act in that way. (Watch one of the bazillion analysis videos on Super Mario Bros. World 1-1 sometime.)
In games there are ways to punish a player (death, losing progress, jumpscares, etc) and there are ways to reward a player (score go up, unlock new thing, get more power, etc). Story can be part of that, and it can go beyond "play well = good end, play poorly = bad end."
I think, if you're going to use a video game to tell your story, you should really take advantage of it, you know? Flex the medium. Leverage the inherent immersion that comes with the player Interacting With The Game. Inscryption and Undertale are So Video Game that you can't adapt it to a different medium without significant rework. They are video games because they have to be video games. That doesn't make them automatically good, but a good storyteller would choose the medium that works best with their story and that confidence just oozes out, in a good way.
You don't even have to get all 4th wall meta with your video game plot. In Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, the main Gimmick is that you have a time-traveling dagger. You can use it to make combat sequences easier, you can use it to solve puzzles, but it's also integral to the entire experience. The time travel sets up the framed narrative, which pays homage to the literature that serves as the game's inspiration. The central conflict is resolved with the time travel mechanic. In gameplay, you make mistakes, experience consequences in battle, learn and do things correctly the next time around, which is the Prince's entire character arc. Even basic game mechanics are part of the story -- when you save, you get "tips and tricks!" in the form of visions that will help you solve puzzles, but some of those visions are plot-relevant. The menu itself has flavor dialogue that is part of the narrative frame and is also hilarious.
Some other examples: Papers, Please! explores bureaucracy as a tool of dehumanization under authoritarian governements, and the gameplay is all fine print and form-filling and menus. In GOW 2018, there are enemies that have elemental weaknesses, so you end up having to switch weapons. (This is a really common thing to do: new area w/ new enemies requires new weapon.) You unlock the Blades of Chaos so that you can enter Helheim. The Blades also have a backstory, and using them means something in Kratos's character arc, it's a whole Thing. In metroidvanias, you unlock new abilities so you can access new parts of the story and find things you missed the first time around -- really good for worldbuilding and creating a sense of depth to a location (the world of Blasphemous comes to mind). Majora's Mask gives you anxiety.
A buddy once asked if I thought a good plot could carry a crappy game, and my answer is no. You can't absorb the story if the primary mode of interacting with the story is unplayable. If the gameplay is detracting from the story, then you should make a movie or write a novel. Video games are experiences: gameplay should serve story, story should serve gameplay. *Tetris: Effect Voice* it's all connected!
I just enjoy it when stories are told in mediums that suit them best. It's satisfying! It's fun! Makes my brain go :D
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p-and-p-admin · 2 years ago
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Preventing Plot Holes
“The difference between reality and fiction? Fiction has to make sense” - Tom Clancy
I don’t think I need to tell most of you seasoned fanfic readers and writers what a plot hole is - like Potter Stewart, most of us “know it when [we] see it”.
Lapses in a story world’s logic when authors either bend their own rules or invent convenient new rules at the last minute. In a format as complex as long-form fiction (especially in a community largely made up of amateur or emerging writers, such as fanfiction), it’s little wonder plot holes are common. In some beloved source material the stories are good enough in all other respects for audiences to forgive the lapses — even using them to spawn elaborate fan theories, it is how much beloved fanfic began - but at other times, plot holes are so egregious problematic that even emotionally invested audiences respond with downright anger.
As writers, we combat this trap by using the tools available to us like story structure, character arcs, and outlining. The longer a story, or series of stories the easier it is to fall into this trap. TV series often end up “jumping the shark” because they give in to the temptation to rewrite or bend their world’s rules in order to keep the stakes high and the conflict raw.
So here are 4 useful questions to ask yourself to help avoid falling into a plot hole:
Do You Know Your Story’s Ending? In general, most story forms are designed to make a point—to present a cohesive picture of the lives of our characters that (either implicitly or explicitly) has meaning. This only happens when the story’s beginning and ending are part of a whole. The beginning asks a question that the ending answers.
Do You Have a Purpose for Every Character, Setting, POV, Relationship, Scene, Etc.? No stories avoid loose ends entirely. Indeed, many that try too hard to do so, often lack emotional truth because they feel manufactured. We, as fans originating in the HP ‘verse, are well aware of the fashion to include an epilogue that spelled out the remainder of the characters’ lives, but this robs the story of a sense of continuance. In my humble estimation, it is often of benefit to your story when a few minor subplots are not completely resolved, so readers get a sense of the characters living on even after the story’s ending. That said though, in order to create a story that leads satisfactorily into its Climax, every major piece within the story should be there because it contributes to that momentum. This is also accurate when you dial deeper into the themes and symbology of your work, if any particular “bit” ”— a character, a relationship, or a scene—exists within the story without expanding upon the theme or driving the plot forward in some way, it is probably extraneous and perhaps even deadweight. I have said it often and still believe it - kill your darlings. Don’t hold onto something just because you love it. If it doesn’t serve your story it is hurting it. If you maintain a tight rein on these aspects of your story from the beginning the less winding roads to deadends and plot holes they can lead you down.
What Is Your Antagonist’s Throughline? Very often we neglect our antagonist or villain up until we need them to show up and oppose our heroes, but if the audience doesn’t have a clear sense of the antagonist or villain and a reasonable understanding of their motivations it becomes almost impossible to employ them effectively at the climax of your story. They are two-dimensional and will leave any victory over them feeling flat too. Make sure they are present all the way through your story, setting the pieces and plans into motion - clearly establishing them as a force to be reckoned with so when the protagonist and villain meet the stakes are high and so is your audience’s investment in the outcome.
Is this the simplest way to set up my characters’ backstories and motivations? From the outset, you know you want your protagonist to behave in particular ways and to do certain things because you’ve already seen them being and doing those things in specific scenes in your mind’s eye. So you write the scenes and develop the backstory as you go - but the longer the piece and the more story events occur your character may find a need to be other things and to do other things so you change, retcon, or add onto their backstory. Before you realize it, your characters’ backstories might have moved from “complex” to “convoluted”. When this happens you risk creating a domino effect that ripples along the seams of through threads in your story and risks opening plot holes elsewhere in the story. (Like JK blithely introducing time travel as cannon and then having to explain away why no one saved the Potters, for example.) Over complicating your character's backstory and motivations is a great risk for allowing slips and lapses in the internal logic of the world you are writing and once that happens, your readers will find themselves pulled out of the story. So stick to the KISS principle (Keep It Simple, Stupid) and build your characters’ backstories and motivations out of the fewest possible moving pieces.
Happy writing folks! I hope this helps. Artist: Unknown. Found on Fanpop
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minweber · 9 months ago
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Oooh, the worldbuilding implications of resurrection spells, my good friend, we meet again.
Just want to share a bit of my experience with running and managing this stuff.
As OP notes, the in-universe implications of resurrection magic existing in any setting must be world-shattering. The entire dynamic of life and death as we know it - upended entirely and replaced with a system of views and relations which is - in all honesty - kinda hard to imagine from our perspective. Can you imagine the fucking class divide in a reality where death can be literally bought off? That's some next level shit. So if the authenticity of worldbuilding in their fantasy world is something that keeps a DM up at night, but they don't want to throw the whole system out, they really kinda have just two choices: either embrace it or amend the rules.
Anyone who would do the first thing has my mad respect. "Resurrection magic available through physical resources" is such a strong concept, that it could bear being, like, a central maypole of a whole setting. And if you are committed and decisive enough to write that stuff - then I can only cheer on, because I personally am not.
I mostly run stuff that relies on its world operating on social dynamics that are familiar to us, and so I've been looking for a coward's way out for quite some time.
How to make resurrections available gameplay-wise, but impactful on narrative level? There is probably no perfect answer, but here is the home rule system on which I settled, as applied to DnD 5e (though applicable, I believe, to most classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy ttrpgs):
Good ol' Revivification goes unchanged. I feel that it perfectly serves its role of band-aid for combat deaths. It's barely even real resurrection - in terms of how it plays or feels. "Two minutes and the body most be not too badly damaged" have always served me as perfect limitations that do not allow it to spill out beyond its intended use - especially considering that DM has almost complete control over the second condition.
All higher level resurrection spells and alternative methods of resurrection gain the following component of a type that I like to call "immaterial": sacrifice. In order for such spell to be successfully cast, the caster must offer to give something up to a deity of their choice, which will be the one bringing back the soul of the deceased. The sacrifice can, of course, be in gold or other material goods - but those are valued far less for the purpose of the following calculations. Real, actual sacrifices - of body, soul, or mind are what draws the godly attention. DM then plays the part of a deity themself, weighing the sacrifice offered (How costly is it to the caster? How permanent is it? How many more of these can the caster afford? How well does the nature of the sacrifice match the nature of the invoked deity?) versus the difficulty of the resurrection (How long has the person been dead? What state is the body in? How much has their death affected the world? How much will their return affect it?) and sets up a clean d20 check. How open or closed is it and who rolls is completely up to whoever is employing the system - I see benefits to every configuration. And then the roll is made - if the check is passed, the spell resolves as normal. And if not - the spell fails, having consumed all its specified components. Following critical conditions apply.
Gods dislike bargaining - whatever the result of the spell, the sacrifice is still claimed by the deity and only one attempt per death can be made. No gradual sweetening of the deal until you succeed.
In its own fashion - death is fair. It is possible for players to set up a guaranteed check (DC 1, no critical failures), by offering a sacrifice that is hefty or thematically appropriate enough. But since there is only one attempt and, even in case of an open DC and roll, they do not know the DC of the check before they have committed to the chosen sacrifice - I've found that it leads to some very cool and tense moments of players trying to decide how much are they actually willing to give up.
Resurrection is an intimate matter. Only the caster of the spell can offer the sacrifice and pay the price. No chipping in, no passing the load to another. This makes the resurrection almost never purchasable - a holy mother of a local church of Ilmater may be a powerful cleric with a duty to help people, but she is either not ready to give up her eyes for a stranger she had never met, or she had already given up everything that she could the previous dozen times people came to her with such a request. It also adds a lot of weight to the party characters who can cast this spell - which can be both good and bad - be careful!
And, obviously - there is no cheating death. Any attempt to cheat this system (with the exclusion of those that DM likes for whatever reason :3) is met with the immediate failure of the spell.
I will admit that testing out of this system have been somewhat limited so far - but I found it really fun and effective when it was employed! It really helped me rein in resurrection's in-universe commonality and make it something both rare and mystical even in a pretty high fantasy setting, while making it so much more impactful for the players.
In the wake of FCG' fate I've been thinking about death in ttrpgs, and how it kind of exists on three levels:
There’s the gameplay level, where it only makes sense for a combat-heavy, pc-based game to have a tool for resurrection because the characters are going to die a lot and players get attached to them and their plotlines.
Then there’s the narrative level, where you sort of need permanent death on occasion so as not to lose all tension and realism. On this level, sometimes the player will let their character remain dead because they find it more interesting despite there being options of resurrection, or maybe the dice simply won’t allow the resurrection to succeed.
Then, of course, there’s the in-universe level, which is the one that really twists my mind. This is a world where actual resurrection of the actual dead is entirely obtainable, often without any ill effects (I mean, they'll be traumatized, but unless you ask a necromancer to do the resurrection they won’t come back as a zombie or vampire or otherwise wrong). It’s so normal that many adventurers will have gone through it multiple times. Like, imagine actually living in a world where all that keeps you from getting a missing loved one back is the funds to buy a diamond and hire a cleric. As viewers we felt that of course Pike should bring Laudna, a complete stranger, back when asked, but how often does she get this question? How many parents have come and begged her to return their child to them? How many lovers lost but still within reach? When and how does she decide who she saves and who she doesn’t?
From this perspective, I feel like every other adventurer should have the motive/backstory of 'I lost a loved one and am working to obtain the level of power/wealth to get them back'. But of course this is a game, and resurrection is just a game mechanic meant to be practically useful.
Anyway. A story-based actual play kind of has to find a way to balance these three levels. From a narrative perspective letting FCG remain dead makes sense, respects their sacrifice, and ends their arc on a highlight. From a gameplay level it is possible to bring them back but a lot more complicated than a simple revivify. But on an in-universe level, when do you decide if you should let someone remain dead or not? Is the party selfish if they don’t choose to pursue his resurrection the way they did for Laudna? Do they even know, as characters, that it’s technically possible to save someone who's been blown to smithereens? Back in campaign 2, the moment the m9 gained access to higher level resurrection they went to get Molly back (and only failed because his body had been taken back by Lucien). At the end of c1, half the party were in denial about Vax and still looking for ways to save him, because they had always been able to before (and had the game continued longer it wouldn’t have surprised me had they found a way). Deanna was brought back decades after her death (and was kind of fucked up because of it). Bringing someone back could be saving them, showing them just how loved and appreciated they are. Or it could be saving you, forcing someone back from rest and peace into a world that's kept moving without them because you can’t handle the guilt of knowing you let them stay gone when you didn’t have to. How do you know? How would you ever know?
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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago
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Leviathan's Odyssey 9 (End):
Isolation
*Lucifer is in the Student Council room collecting paperwork when he hears his phone go off… It seems like Barbatos is messaging him yet again... For the third time this week. Though he dreads whatever news it brings, Lucifer checks his messenger and lets out a long sigh when he gets his confirmation*
*Levi was sent home early… again. He hasn’t been present for a full day of classes in nearly a week and Barbatos is beginning to get on Lucifer’s case about it… Diavolo placed a lot of trust in the eldest to bring his brother under control, but it hasn’t exactly been very successful and his butler sees no problem with applying the pressure in his lord’s stead. Though he wouldn’t call this latest message a threat of expulsion, he can sense they’re getting dangerously close…* 
*normally, Lucifer would wait for the day to finish himself before returning to the House and giving Levi a lecture, but that approach hasn’t been faring well… Though he loathes to be absent, who knows what trouble his brothers could get in, he sends his response to Barbs and goes to collect his things. He has been thinking up a few solutions to the “Leviathan Problem” and it’s about time he started enacting some, but first he needs to do some shopping*
*it isn’t hard for Lucifer to find what he was looking for in the shopping district and he makes it back to the House about an hour before classes would officially end. He already knows where Levi would be, he’s been nothing is not predictable since he first came home with them... In many ways, he still has the mindset of a combat survivalist. He quickly grew territorial of the room they gave him, he tries to grab as much food as possible at meals, and every new person or situation is treated with hostile skepticism... Their brother may be home, but he certainly isn’t “back." Not yet anyway...*
*when Lucifer ascends the steps to go to Leviathan’s room, he tries knocking on the door first. Levi had taken to making ridiculous entry passwords again, an encouraging sign, but that was mostly because Lucifer forbade him from issuing trial by combat to newcomers… Unfortunately, today there wasn’t any voice on the other side… Lifting the lock on the door is child’s play with just a little magic, so after giving his brother ample time to say something, Lucifer opens the door himself*
Lucifer: Leviathan? *he pokes his head in with a bit of caution, Levi could still be quick to lash out if caught off guard*
*Lucifer’s eyes scan the dimly lit room, with only the soft blue glow of the water tank behind a glass wall offering him any light. They discovered quickly that Levi’s skin would dry out at an alarming rate without some access to water. Their first fix was to give his room a bathtub that he could soak in, but due to its narrow size Lucifer eventually had an aquarium installed for him instead. He could climb in and out from a gap near the ceiling and it had more room for him to move around freely. That seemed to resolve the issue, but Levi still remained fond enough of the bathtub to keep it around*
*he half expected to find his brother in said tub, back to the doorway and trying to ignore him, but instead he sees a black figure curled up at the bottom of the water tank. He recognizes Levi, even in his newest form - or at least the form that they taught to him once he was on dry land. While in the ocean, Levi never needed to be rid of his gills or scales, they were practical for swimming but not so much for daily life. His new form kept his tail, horns, and patch of scales here and there, but it mostly allows him to pass as an average demon. He can maintain an even milder appearance without any of the extras, but he doesn’t seem to like it as much… He always complains of feeling “too small” without his tail*
*Lucifer steps into the room and closes the door behind him. Under all of that water, Levi probably didn’t hear him knock… Or maybe he did and didn’t feel like answering. He found it hard to pinpoint just what his brother could or couldn’t do anymore… When he gets into the room, he sets a white grocery bag he had been carrying on a nearby table. He’ll have to bring up its contents at the right time… He needs to speak to Levi first.* 
*Lucifer goes to the glass wall and gently knocks his knuckles against it. The black bundle in the water stirs and Lucifer watches as Levi's tail slowly begins to unravel from his body... Soon enough, he’s looking his brother in the face but he doesn’t look very happy to see him… He rarely looks happy to see anyone frankly…*
*Lucifer points up to the edge of the tank and gestures to his ear, signaling that they need to talk. He’s almost surprised at how easily Levi obliges this time, pushing off of the aquarium floor and swimming up until he’s above the surface. After taking a gulp of air, he leans over the edge of the glass - seemingly unbothered by the droplets of water that cascade to the floor.*
Levi: What do you want, Lucifer?
*Lucifer tries his best to look stern, but not overly angry. Though Levi is far less dangerous inland than he was by the ocean’s shore, he’s no less irritable... If this conversation is going to happen, he’s going to need to keep his composure for a while longer*
Lucifer: Barbatos informed me of what happened today… 
Levi: And?
Lucifer: Annnd, we’ve already been over this, Levi… You can’t keep stabbing your fellow students with forks. 
Levi: If you gave me my trident back, then I wouldn’t need to use them.
*Lucifer groans a bit and fights the urge to rub the bridge of his nose… Of course he’s in a mood again…*
Lucifer: Don’t play games with me, Levi… You know what the real problem is here.
Levi: Yeah, it’s the stupid school! I hate going there...
Lucifer: Levi, Lord Diavolo was very gracious to offer you a place in his academy and a seat on the student council, no less. And being one of his military officers now also puts you in a position of great importance... Your actions reflect on him and his kingdom as whole-
Levi: I know all that already, I heard you the first time! *Levi leans his chin against the edge of the glass, but still doesn’t look any happier. To his credit, he has been trying to yell at his brothers less... So it’s not too surprising to hear his voice suddenly drop down to solemn whisper*
Levi: … You know what everybody calls me there? The “Fish Freak...” They say I smell like a beached whale… *Lucifer blinks at the revelation, because this is news to him*
Lucifer: Is that so…?
Levi: Everyday. And you know what else? They trip me in the hallway or throw my things in the fountain. Somebody even left a dead squid on my desk! *a familiar look comes into his eyes now, one burning of hatred - but this time not directed at brothers...*
Levi: They’re lucky I only have forks right now...
*a part of Lucifer wants to be fine with Levi sticking up for himself… The Demon World is a cruel and harsh place where intimidation is often the best answer. He and his brothers had to learn that the hard way… But Diavolo’s goals are peace and unity - the academy was even founded with that in mind… His students should be shying away from such barbaric tactics and the council has an example to set… As much as it pains him to say it, Levi’s actions are unacceptable…*
Lucifer: Tell me the students’ names and I’ll have them punished. I guarantee you that... *takes a deep breath to prepare for what he must say next…*
Lucifer: … But you can’t keep causing trouble like this, Leviathan. Lord Diavolo has a strict code of-
*Lucifer watches as Levi groans and lifts his head off the glass, though this time he looks more frustrated than enraged*
Levi: There you go again! Diavolo this and Diavolo that!! Don’t you ever think of anything else??
Lucifer: That’s Lord Diavolo to you, and of course I do. But this isn’t the Celestial Realm anymore, Levi, and we need to adapt to his rules. *Levi’s eyes narrow at him, seeing an opportunity to dig in the knife…*
Levi: There’s adapting and then there’s ass-kissing... Which are you doing, Lucifer?
*and like that, for just a moment, Lucifer wants to abandon the whole project. He wants to leave Levi to wallow in his tank and go back to more important matters... He wants to throw his gifts into the garbage and just forget he ever bought them! His anger must have been plain to see, because Levi looks almost regretful for a second as he pushes back from the glass*
Levi: … Yeah. I didn’t think so.
*with that, Lucifer watches his brother sink back underwater and return to the floor of his aquarium. He honestly has half a mind to just turn and walk away, at least until he sees Levi curl up on his side against the store bought sand. He draws legs into the fetal position and faces his back the glass wall, letting his tail once again curl around his body as he goes back to laying in the water… alone…*
*the lonely image is enough to bring Lucifer back to some sense… Had he really forgotten why he was there so easy? With a steadier mind, he gently places a gloved hand against the surface of the glass, watching Levi from behind the wall between them…*
*his brother fell from Heaven then had to survive on his own… when he came back, he not only found out that his family had been living like royalty, but they hadn’t even been out looking for him in a long time… Now he’s been ripped from the home he’d grown accustomed to and thrust into a culture he barely understood…*
*Was it any wonder he was struggling? Was it any better for him in the Devildom than it was beneath the sea? Would it have been better to just let him stay where he was comfortable…? These thoughts have plagued Lucifer for some time, but he wouldn’t dare break up his family now…* 
*Maybe... Hopefully… Levi just needs an outlet to help him cope...*
*Lucifer knocks on the glass a second time, but it’s not an angry pounding or anything. Levi must not have expected that, because he actually looks back at him in mild surprise. Lucifer signals once more for him to get out of the water before stepping aside to grab the grocery bag from before. Intrigued, but cautious, Levi swims back up to the surface and pulls himself up to the edge*
Levi: … What’s that?
Lucifer: Something I bought for you. *Lucifer picks up the bag and goes back to the tank. Levi’s eyes widen slightly with shock*
Levi: You bought something… for me?? Why?
Lucifer: It’s something that I think you’ll like… I’m told it’s very entertaining and hopefully it has all the… violence that you’ve grown accustomed to... 
*he digs into the bag and pulls out two things, a DVD box-set of something called “My Life as a Demonic Pirate Defeating the Seven Lords of Hell” and a paperback book with a cute looking mermaid on the cover under the same title*
Lucifer: Levi. Have you ever heard of something called anime?
Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
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ao3komorii · 4 years ago
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Truth in Darkness (Zed/Reader)
Saving uploading my Sett story for last since it’s in 2 parts, so Zed is up next! I really like the Zed comic, so this oneshot is set in the canon of the comic. I tried to make everything able to be understood without reading the comic, but I do recommend it because it’s a great comic. Also just to set expectations if the only thing you know about Zed is him in-game, he’s a lot less edgy in the comic. Also, smut at the end.
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It was hard to remember your life before you came to Thanjuul Monastery at the age of six. You could vaguely remember your parents taking you to a festival, and your mother braiding your hair. But you couldn’t remember what their faces looked like, or what their voices sounded like. It almost felt like you had spent your whole life within the monastery walls.
You had known that your parents would go away sometimes, leaving you to stay at a neighbor’s house. That, and any other familiar routine in your life was not meant to last, shattered by the man in blue that had come to knock on your neighbor’s door to inform them that your parents had gotten in an accident. You would later find out that they had been slaughtered by a demon while on a mission.
Your parents had been members of the Kinkou Order; tasked with maintaining the balance between the spirit and natural worlds. They had kept you away from their work, which had only made it worse for you when you were forced to leave your home behind to be taken to the monastery that would become your new home.
Your first few days at the monastery you had done nothing but cry. You had lost all sense of home and familiarity, and had only been taken in by the Kinkou out of obligation to your parents. You were not particularly wanted, or welcome.
You quickly became desperate to be useful, not wanting to be discarded again. You eagerly took any job that was sent your way, often sweeping floors and washing laundry to earn your keep.
You admired the members of the Order, clad in blue robes, as they sought to maintain balance in the world. The more chores you did, the more you idolized those who lived the life you could only dream of. At night, tired from the day’s work, you would dream about becoming an official member of the Kinkou, but you knew that Master Kusho, the leader of the Kinkou and current Eye of Twilight, had the final say.
Master Kusho led the Order efficiently, and had a lot of sway in regards to new members. You had seen him around the monastery, but had never talked to him. You had seen him training his son Shen, enviously wishing for the same opportunity. But as the years went by, you had yet to speak one word to Master Kusho, let alone receive any training from him.
By the age of fourteen, you had resigned yourself to doing chores in the day and training by yourself at night, hoping that you would eventually get a chance to prove yourself to a master. But all your secret training got you was stinging cuts that burned the next day when you scrubbed the floors. Nobody would give a poor orphaned servant girl the chance to prove herself.
You had trudged back to your room one day, too tired to go and train after sweeping the entire grounds of the monastery, when you heard the sounds of a fight. You crept back into the hallway, peering out to see two boys your age sparring. You immediately recognized the figure of Master Kusho’s son as he kicked forward, but his opponent was another story.
You craned your neck, trying to get a good look at the face of the silver-haired boy as he tried to block Shen’s attacks. Only when he fell did you recognize him at last; you had seen the boy before, washing dishes in the kitchen as you had gone to deliver a scroll to the cook. You had made brief eye contact with him then, but neither of you had said a word. You knew that the cook wouldn’t have permitted it anyways; you had once witnessed him chewing out a young servant girl for breathing too loudly and weren’t willing to do anything to gain his ire.
You had thought that he was a mere servant like you, but here he was, training with the son of the leader of the Kinkou. You went to bed with hope in your heart that it would be your turn to be noticed next. That you would be able to serve the Kinkou’s cause just as your parents had.
But the next day passed with no offers of training. And then the next day. By the time that a week had passed with no changes to your life, you had cried yourself to sleep for the first time since you were a child.
But the next morning, you wiped away your tears, your resolve hardened. There was nothing you could do but double down on your own training. You had no way of knowing if or when an offer would come your way, but you intended to be worthy of being a master’s student.
You began to hear whispers around the monastery of the new student that Master Kusho had taken on and began to train alongside his own son. You watched as Master Kusho would take the two boys with him on missions, and train them when they were on monastery grounds. You especially liked watching the two boys spar, trying to emulate their moves in your own solo training.
You had to admit that training by yourself was not as effective as if you had a master. You stared at the tree you had been practicing on, breathing heavily. You knew that you would never get better with a tree as an opponent; unruly spirits wouldn’t stand still and wait for you to take them down. A real opponent would require you to adapt your moves and strategies on the fly, which seemed almost unfathomable to you at your current skill level.
You had been staring at a whorl in the tree, lost in thought, when you were startled by the rustling of a bush near you. Turning sharply around, you clasped your hands in front of your chest as your mind spun with potential excuses for why you had been out here. It wasn’t technically against the rules for you to train without a master, but the Kinkou lived by a strict code, and you would be devastated if this was used as a reason to kick you out of the monastery.
Your hastily-prepared excuses died on your lips as you met eyes with the boy with the short silver hair that you had watched train for months now. You both stared at each other as you tried to think of something to say, but the boy broke the silence first.
“I’ve seen you before,” he said, almost seeming startled by his own words as he hastily continued on. “You’re a servant at the monastery.”
The word servant clung to your skin like a rash, and you looked down in shame at the reminder of your position. No matter what you did, you would be nothing but a lowly servant to the Kinkou.
Ashamed and embarrassed, you kept your head down as you tried to walk by him, but were stopped in your tracks by his voice.
“Wait!”
You looked back at him, and were surprised to see resolve in his face as he stared intently at you. You looked at him in confused silence for a long moment before he snapped out of it and spoke up again.
“Your kicks are too low.”
How long had he been standing in the brush for? You froze up, feeling self-conscious about the results of all of your training.
The boy offered you a shy smile. “I can help you if you want.”
“What?”
He gestured with his head towards the open space that you had been practicing in. He walked over to stand in front of the tree you had been practicing your moves on with you reluctantly following behind him.
He nodded at you before facing the tree again, taking a moment to position himself before kicking forward, his foot gently impacting the bark of the tree. Turning back to you, he motioned you forward.
“You need to position your leg higher,” he said, lifting his own leg momentarily to demonstrate his point. “When you aim so low, your kick will have much less power.”
“Oh… I never knew that,” you replied softly.
“I can help you train,” the boy offered, and you stared at him in shock.
“You don’t have to…” you trailed off, not wanting to impose on him, not when he probably had better things to do than teach a hopeless servant girl how to fight.
“You don’t have a master,” he said with a frown. “I’m nowhere near as skilled as my master, but I was just like you before he took me as an apprentice. Let me help you.”
“I…” Your desire to improve yourself was battling with your learned shyness from years of being invisible to those at the monastery. You wanted desperately to accept his offer of help, and finally allowed yourself to be convinced as you observed the earnestness in his eyes. “…okay.”
The boy smiled, and you found yourself smiling back at him. In the whole time that you had been here, you had never had someone be so nice to you. It was an odd feeling, but a pleasant one.
The boy reached a hand out towards you, and you stared at it for a moment before taking it into your own.
“My name is Govos.”
Shyly telling him your own name in return, you rejoiced internally at finally grasping a chance to become good enough to be a true member of the Kinkou.
You still did all your chores, but now you had something to look forward to. Govos still had his own training to do, and would frequently leave the monastery with Shen and Master Kusho on missions, but he made time to train with you whenever he could. His kindness had brought color into your world at last, and you quickly began to see improvement in your combat prowess.
Govos would tell you about his experiences outside of the monastery, about bringing supplies to villages and soothing troubled natural spirits. The more you heard from him, the more you wanted to be out there in the world, serving the Kinkou Order in a more significant way. But at the same time, you knew that you weren’t good enough yet, and you didn’t want to appeal to a master and get rejected.
So you dedicated yourself to training, whether with Govos or by yourself. You found yourself more often than not waiting near the entrance to the monastery when you knew Govos would be returning, relaxing only when you saw his face. You tried not to worry while he was gone, but you knew that deep down, you were afraid that he would leave and not return like your parents had.
You had been busy with the laundry when the air at the monastery suddenly grew tense. Your stomach burst out in knots as you heard the hushed voices while you went about delivering laundry.
“…so many dead…”
“…the golden demon…”
What had happened? Who had died? You had yet to see Govos, Shen, or even Master Kusho. You worried the entire day, scared that you had lost your only friend. You had been making small mistakes all day, so you had ended up finishing your work way later than usual. By that point, the sun had gone down with no sign of Govos returning, and you were so overcome with worry that you now found yourself sitting in the grass near the monastery entrance. You tried to pretend that you were just meditating, but you couldn’t fool yourself. You would probably stay here all night waiting for Govos to return.
The longer into the night that you stared at the arches that denoted the entrance of the monastery, the more blurry they started to look. You desperately tried to stay awake, but your mental stress throughout the day had tired you out more than you cared to admit, and soon keeping your eyes open was a challenge that you couldn’t overcome.
You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep until you were gently prodded awake, the light beyond your eyelids telling you it was now morning. Opening your eyes, you saw Govos right in front of you, looking concerned. As soon as he noticed you were awake, his face relaxed.
“You’re back…” you murmured sleepily, a relieved smile coming to your lips.
“Were you here all night waiting?” he asked.
You sat up straighter, your back sore from sleeping against a tree all night. “I heard people saying there were deaths… I didn’t know…” you trailed off, feeling embarrassed that you had worried over nothing.
“There were deaths,” Govos confirmed solemnly. “We came upon a town on fire. There were so many wounded. My master said it was the work of the golden demon.”
“The golden demon…” you echoed as your gaze was drawn down to his collar, where a distinctive pendant hung on a simple cord.
Govos looked down at what you were looking at before looking back at you with a small smile on his face. “Master Kusho gave it to me after we took care of the surviving villagers. He said… he said that I was worthy of being the next Eye of Twilight. He gave me a new name, one befitting a Kinkou.”
You gasped in amazement; when you had first come across Govos, you had been jealous of the opportunities he had been given. But as the time went by and you had gotten closer, your jealousy had morphed into admiration. Now you just felt proud to have such a talented person as your friend.
“A new name?” you probed curiously.
“Usan,” he answered with a small smile.
“Usan,” you repeated, largely to yourself. “It fits you.”
After the appearance of the golden demon, your world began to shift rapidly. Usan was gone way more frequently, chasing after the demon alongside Shen and Master Kusho. Every time they came back, they got more and more frustrated with each failure to capture the creature. It was hard for you to remember the last time you had seen Usan smile. You couldn’t imagine the horrors he had seen chasing the trail of the murderous beast, but all you knew now was that you were slowly losing your friend to his seemingly-unending quest.
You had no choice but to accept your relationship with Usan for what it was, accepting whatever level of contact that he offered. You found yourself going back to that tree in the forest like you used to for training when Usan was gone. You would have preferred to train with him, but the skills you had learned from him over the years served you well. You knew that you could never have come this far on your own. You would improve your skills until you were at a level where a master could not refuse to take you on.
It was years of work, frustration, and many deaths before the golden demon was captured. You almost couldn’t believe it when Usan told you that the demon they had been chasing was not a demon, but a man. Khada Jhin was a monster in human form, and great care was taken to lock him securely away from society, in a location only known by Master Kusho and his two students.
You were relieved that the monster was caught, but Usan was not satisfied.
“He shouldn’t have been taken alive,” Usan spoke bitterly during your first training session together after Jhin’s capture. “If he ever escapes…”
“He shouldn’t,” you replied softly, as you handed him one of the wooden daggers you used to train with. “Only you three know where he’s imprisoned.”
You didn’t want to say more and further spoil your precious time with Usan, so neither of you brought up the doctrine of the Kinkou. The Kinkou Order existed to preserve the balance between man and spirit. Sometimes it was necessary to end a spirit’s life to end their pain, but Jhin was no spirit, nor demon. He was human, and it was not the Kinkou way to be the judge nor executioner of man.
You admitted silently that you were also unsatisfied with the humane capture of someone who had taken so many lives, but you had no say and no power. You didn’t even have a master. The Kinkou Order would not change its long-held rules just because you disagreed with them. You would be foolish to even try.
The Kinkou was all you had, which was another factor in your reluctant acceptance of the code. Without this place, you would have had nothing and nobody. If they had not taken you in, you may not have survived. Now you could only hope that you would eventually have the chance to join their cause.
But as you devoted yourself more to the Kinkou, Usan drifted farther away. Your talks of his differing ideals happened more and more frequently. You could tell he was getting closer to the edge every day, but what lay over that edge you did not know.
You had fully grown up in the temple, now almost twenty-four years old. You had lived at the temple for nearly seventeen years now, and still had little to show for it.
The world was in chaos like nothing before. Noxus was restless, hungry for war, and had begun to make strikes against cities on the Ionian coast. It would not take long before their armies would march onward, and the battle would be at your front door.
But Master Kusho would not compromise the Kinkou doctrine. The war was not the concern of the Kinkou. Disputes between men must be solved by men, not Kinkou, as the code demanded.
The added tensions in Ionia from the Noxian invaders had been having unfortunate effects on the spirit world as well, many more spirits than usual becoming restless and demon attacks increasing. The Kinkou were busy, and you never thought that number would include you until you found yourself standing before a master who had stopped you while you were sweeping floors.
“You have been here a long time,” he remarked, and you nodded politely.
Other than Usan, nobody talked to you much, so this was highly unusual. You were on edge, unsure of what to say to this man that had acknowledged your existence out of nowhere. You stayed deathly silent, afraid that even breathing too loudly would cause him to send you away.
“You serve the Kinkou, yet have no master?” he asked, and you shook your head. “I have need of an apprentice. I am getting older, and the spirits are no less calm, not with war on the horizon.”
“You want me?” you said shakily, desperately hoping that you weren’t dreaming.
“Master Kusho has advised me that you would be a capable apprentice,” he added. “His son has talked quite highly of your skills.”
Shen had talked to his father about you? But you had never sparred with Shen… all of your training was done in the forest, away from prying eyes. But this was what you had wanted, happening at last. You could think about what had led up to this later.
“I would be honored to be your student!” you answered with a low bow.
Your new master let you go with your promise to meet him the next morning to go out on your very first mission. You tried not to skip away with how excited you were, knowing your master’s eyes were on your back as you walked away.
It almost didn’t feel real. You had wanted to be a true member of the Kinkou for so long that it was hard to believe that this was really happening. You fast-walked around the monastery, looking for the head of silver hair that belonged to your closest friend. You had almost given up on finding him when you saw Usan enter through the monastery gates.
You rushed over to him, failing to notice his dour mood in your excitement. He seemed surprised by your abrupt approach, staring silently at you as he waited for you to speak first.
“Usan, it happened!” you exclaimed. “A master asked me to be his student! I’m finally a true Kinkou!”
His face darkened immediately, leaving you confused. You really thought he would be happy for you. Why was he acting like this?
“…Usan?”
He let out a short breath, looking away from you for a brief moment before meeting your worried gaze with an anger in his eyes that you didn’t understand.
“I’m leaving the Kinkou.”
“What?” Your body felt numb and cold, like your soul had left your body. You had finally joined him as a member of the Kinkou Order and he was… leaving?
“In the temple, there is a box… the Tears of the Shadow,” he said, leaving you no less confused. You knew that the Kinkou kept many artifacts within the catacombs of the temple, but you had never heard of that one.
“The shadow magic in that box… it has the power to change the tide of this war. To drive back the Noxian invaders.”
You began to get a sinking feeling in your stomach that you knew how his story would end, and you were not made to wait for long.
“We have the means to stop the Noxians and end this war, but Kusho insists that any action from the Kinkou would corrupt the balance of the scales.”
You noticed that he didn’t refer to Kusho as master, but said nothing.
“He may not care if the people of Ionia die, but I do!” Usan growled angrily. “The ideals of the Kinkou are flawed, and all of Ionia will die if nothing changes. I have no choice but to leave the Order.”
“Usan, please –” you appealed desperately, grasping his sleeve, terrified to lose him.
Your vision was blurring as tears collected in your eyes, and you saw Usan’s angry eyes soften for a moment before he shook off your grip.
“I’m sorry.”
And then he left, and you sank down to the ground, unable to do anything but weep for your lost friend, and yet unable to muster the will to follow him. You didn’t have his courage; the Kinkou were all you had. You would be lost without them.
You had finally achieved your dream, and just wanted Usan to congratulate you, to make him proud… you had never imagined this would happen. You had achieved the dream you had dedicated your life to, but had lost the person you cared about more than anything. Your happiness had fled with Usan’s retreating figure, leaving you numb.
Eventually, there was a hand on your shoulder. You looked up with sore eyes to see Shen, his expression painted with sadness.
“Usan has left,” he said, and you shut your eyes as another sob left your mouth.
Shen helped you to your feet, supporting your stumbling weight as he led you through the monastery grounds and to his room. Closing the door behind you, he set about preparing some tea while you tried your best to stop crying.
Shen handed you a cup of tea, and you tried to keep your hands from shaking, holding the cup with two hands to keep it steady. Shen drank from his own cup, staying silent and giving you the time to compose your thoughts. Staring at his face, one thought rose to your lips before any other.
“Why did you tell your father I was skilled?”
You had to know. Even though in your heart, you knew that this was partly because you were desperate to talk about anything other than Usan’s departure from the Kinkou and from your life. If Shen noticed your switch of topic, he did not mention it.
“I have seen you train with Usan in the woods,” he replied softly. “You have been at the monastery for so long, and you possess too much skill to remain a servant when you have the ability to be more.”
“I never knew that you saw us…” you trailed off.
Shen was looking in your direction, but didn’t seem to be looking at you. “You remind me of how Usan used to be.”
You had thought that hearing his name would hurt, but the soft nostalgia in Shen’s voice just made you want to hear more. You wanted to know more about Usan from someone who had been by his side through things that you hadn’t, desperate to feel that Usan was still here with you, even just through your memories of him.
Shen seemed willing to reminisce with you, telling you stories of their travels with his father until late in the night. You were very engaged in his stories, but eventually your droopy eyelids won and you were unable to stay awake any longer.
You woke up the next morning in your own room. It seemed that Shen had carried you there after you had fallen asleep in his room.
Getting out of bed, you realized that you didn’t feel as bad as you thought that you would. Shen’s stories of the past had soothed your troubled heart. You still felt sad at the loss of Usan, but Shen’s kindness had made it a little easier to get up and face your day.
You were grateful for the mission with your new master, as it was an opportunity to further your skills, and it didn’t hurt that you were desperate to throw yourself into anything that would help you to forget the events of yesterday.
It hardly felt real as you left the grounds with your new master to deal with a troubled spirit south of the monastery. While you had trained your body over the years, you had very little exposure to the magic of the Kinkou. Training in Kinkou magic could only be passed down formally from master to student, and you threw yourself into the experience, eager to learn whatever your new master was willing to teach you.
The missions became more frequent as your skills advanced, and while your master was quiet, he seemed to be pleased with your progress. His actions spoke louder than words, the first time he let you take the lead on soothing a restless spirit showing you just how much he believed in your abilities.
Even back at the monastery, you didn’t allow yourself to spend too much time thinking about Usan. Shen was more than happy to spar with you, and now that you were an apprentice, you were able to train on the monastery grounds, no longer having to hide away in the forest to train in secret. You would be forever grateful to Shen; without him, you would have collapsed upon yourself with grief. You still had nights that you would dream of Usan, or times when you would see things and be reminded of him, but you could survive without his presence in your life.
It had been about a year since you had seen Usan. He hadn’t come back or even sent a single letter. You tried not to let it bother you, but deep down, you worried for your friend.
Ionia was in a state of constant turmoil. The Noxian invaders were ruthless, and could not be stopped. They had pushed beyond the shores of the island and marched forward, leaving death and destruction in their wake. Noxus was not a place of mercy, and thus far, any efforts to combat their invasion had been met with ferocious violence. Ionia was losing the war; that was an undeniable fact.
Your heart hurt more every time you heard further news of the casualties mounting higher, of the villages torched as the Noxian armies ravaged the land you had called home your whole life. But no matter how much you wanted to do something, you couldn’t. It was your duty to protect the balance between man and spirit. If you tried to interfere with the war, you would no longer be worthy to be Kinkou. You had to remember that the cause you were tasked with was more important, even as your heart wavered. You had made your choice, and you were too scared to throw away everything you had worked so hard for.
“It was incredible, Shen!” you told your friend the day after you had returned from a mission to solve a conflict between a water spirit and a nearby village. “I never knew how many types of spirits there are out there.”
Shen nodded, expression flat, but you knew him well enough to know that this was just how he was normally. Chasing Khada Jhin had changed him just as it had changed Usan. The playful and happy boy you had seen around the monastery when you were younger had become somber and serious as he fulfilled his Kinkou duties. With Usan gone, he would follow his father’s path and become the next Eye of Twilight. But neither of you had anticipated that Shen’s succession would come so soon, or so tragically.
You were both surprised by a young assistant’s cries for help as he ran towards you. A heavy seriousness overtook the atmosphere around you as the boy, crying and stumbling, made his way to you. You were at a loss for words, unsure of what could have caused the boy to act like he was fleeing for his life.
Shen stepped forward first to meet the boy. “Yushin, what has happened?”
Yushin sniffled loudly, wiping a hand across his eyes as he tried desperately to calm himself down. “Master Kusho, he… he…”
Your blood felt frozen in your veins; had something happened to Master Kusho? You quickly made your way to Shen’s side.
“It’s okay,” you consoled the boy as you leaned down towards him. “Just tell us what’s going on.”
Yushin nodded, swallowing nervously before speaking. “Mister Usan came to the temple. He wanted the shadow magic box, but Master Kusho said no.”
You had a bad feeling about where this story was going, but you didn’t dare interrupt, Shen staying deathly silent as well, his hands clenched tightly into fists.
“Master Kusho went to stop him and he… he killed Master!” Yushin wailed. “Some of the other masters are fighting them, but they’re so strong…”
Shen wasted not a second more, sprinting towards the temple at the top of the mountain. With one rushed nod to the boy, you followed right after Shen, hoping that you wouldn’t be too late.
You had hoped to see Usan again, but couldn’t have dreamed that it would be under these circumstances. You knew that Usan had wanted the Kinkou’s secret magic to be used against the invading Noxians; he had told you as much the last time you had seen him. But to kill Master Kusho in order to take the Tears of the Shadow… this new image of Usan was so different from the man you knew that you were having a hard time believing that what Yushin was saying was true.
But the scene at the temple extinguished any hope you had left in your heart. People were running down the stairs, fleeing for their lives, while others fought against men in grey and red outfits, grey masks concealing their faces. Looking at the masked men, you wondered if one of them was Usan.
But looking at the steps leading up to the temple, you realized that you had bigger problems. Masters and apprentices alike were fleeing, but not everyone was so lucky. Bodies dotted the stairs of those who had tried to fight and failed, and had lost their lives for their efforts.
You rushed to your fallen comrades, hoping to find someone still alive. Finding no pulse, you were forced to move onto the next person as fighting still raged on all around you. Just as you were feeling almost too despondent to go on, you finally found a pulse on the fifth person you had approached, one of the older apprentices that you vaguely remembered seeing around before. You immediately tapped into your magic, a soft yellow glow engulfing your hands as you began working to save this man’s life.
You didn’t know where Shen was, or what he was doing. You hoped that he would be okay, but you couldn’t look away from the man in front of you, afraid that any break in your concentration would result in this man losing his life. Shen would be okay, you knew he would.
Eventually, the sounds of fighting dulled as you worked, sweat breaking out on your arms and face from the physical and mental stress that you were under. After what felt like an eternity, your work finally paid off; the man’s wound had closed at last, and even though he had lost a lot of blood, he would pull through.
As soon as you pulled your hands back, it felt like the flow of time had started again. Your exhaustion caught up with you immediately and you nearly collapsed on the spot, breathing heavily from the energy you had exerted, leaving you feeling boneless.
Looking around, you felt like you had found yourself in the pits of hell. The stairs were peppered with bodies, the blood of the victims running down the stairs and staining them red. Sorrow was heavy in the air, the survivors still in disbelief.
The Kinkou had not been decimated; the loss of life, while sad, was not as great as it could have been. It looked like those who had run were not pursued, but those who had fought Usan and his men had been killed. They had come here for the box of ancient shadow magic, and had taken out anyone who stood in the way of their objective.
You were unsure of what to do next. Those who had lived were long gone, and with how much time and energy you had spent healing the one man, you knew that you would be of little use in recovering the stolen Kinkou artifact. You weren’t even fully confident in your ability to stand with how exhausted you were.
You didn’t know how long you kneeled beside the unconscious man, but you were startled into awareness by a hand on your shoulder. Craning your neck to look up, you saw the face of a man with short brown hair who you recognized as a member of the Order.
“He’s okay,” you said softly, looking down at the unconscious man’s bloody clothing. “I was able to heal him in time.”
“I will bring him back to the monastery,” the man replied, voice almost frighteningly steady. “You should go and rest.”
You looked back up at him in shock. “But the shadow magic… don’t we have to go get it back?”
He shook his head sternly. “That is not our decision to make. With Kusho dead, the duties of the Eye of Twilight fall to Shen now. For now, we must regroup and recover our strength, and then we will listen to Shen’s decision.”
Staring back down at your hands, you nodded. Reality was setting in on you at last; the leader of the Kinkou was dead, killed by the man you had once called your closest friend. And even if you wanted to, you did not possess the strength nor the skill to chase Usan and his men down. You weren’t even sure if you had the energy to walk down the long flight of stairs that led back down to the monastery.
Knowing your short conversation was done, the man picked up the unconscious man before you and then began to head down the stairs. You watched his back for a short moment before heaving yourself to your feet and beginning to stagger your way down the stairs.
You walked by the blood, by the bodies that still lay on the stairs, their spirits already long gone. You could only hope that they hadn’t suffered too greatly in their last moments. You forced yourself onwards; it would do nobody any good for you to collapse in a heap here, least of all you. You just wanted to collapse into your bed and try to sleep off the horror of the last hour.
You didn’t see Shen anywhere, unsure of where he had gone. But you knew that you would see him eventually. Shen was very strong, so you had no doubts that he had survived the attack. Although you were still struggling to believe that Master Kusho was truly dead. It hurt your head to try and make sense of all that had happened, and you found yourself unsure of what the immediate future would look like for the Kinkou Order.
Finally getting to the bottom of the stairs, you looked out at the road back to the monastery, the clamor reaching your ears easily despite the distance. Understandably, the Kinkou were in a panic, and you stopped in your tracks as you stared at the mess of people running around. For such a normally calm place, the commotion felt deeply unsettling. Deaths happened within the Kinkou, as dealing with demons and restless spirits was never completely risk-free, but to lose the head of the Kinkou in such a tragic and unexpected way had left the Kinkou on unsteady ground.
You would not be able to sleep with how loud the monastery was right now, even as tired as you were. You found your attention drawn instead to the forest just ahead of you, feeling drawn towards the small path between the trees that led to your old training spot. The spot where you and Usan had spent most of your time together.
Maybe going there would give you the peace that you desperately needed right now. The Usan that would kill Master Kusho and steal a relic seemed so foreign to the boy you had known for so long. Could a year have really changed him so much?
No, you thought as you walked down the grassy path, Usan had begun to change long before he had left. The hunt for Khada Jhin had changed him, and as much as you didn’t want him to leave the Kinkou, you knew that you had to let him go. But after today, you were at a loss, worried for your lost friend.
Even though he had killed Master Kusho, stolen a Kinkou artifact and slain your fellow Order members, you couldn’t help but want to see him. To ask him why he had done this. Even if it was a futile effort, you wanted to see him so badly.
Though it pained you to admit it, you felt like you had truly lost him for good today. You had been nursing a hope that one day he would return to the Kinkou, to you. But with this act, he would never be welcomed back. He was not just a deserter of the Kinkou, but now an enemy. Your soul cried as you forced yourself to keep walking as you were forced to accept the fact that you would never stand by Usan’s side again.
The clearing looked the same as it had a year ago. It felt strange to be here after so long. For a year, you had told yourself that coming back here would be too painful, but now it was the only place that you wanted to be. You just wanted to feel like your life was simple again, like how it had been when you and Usan had sparred here together in secret.
You approached the largest tree in the clearing, the one that you used to use as an opponent before you and Usan had started training together. You ran your hand over the little scratches and bumps on the bark of the tree, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to think of the past.
Your fingers hit an especially-jagged section of bark, and you opened your eyes, looking at the intricately-carved symbol before you. You traced the pattern of lines that made up the peace rune, mind drifting back to the day that Usan had showed you how to carve it. It had been carved almost ten years ago, but still held its shape perfectly. Even though you knew any magical effects from such a small rune wouldn’t go far, you couldn’t help but feel bitter that the peace rune had done no good today in regards to the attack on the temple.
You were about to take your hand off of the rune when you were startled by a larger hand being laid over yours from behind. Alarmed, you jolted backwards into a firm chest with a muted cry. The man behind you didn’t say a word, allowing you to rip your hand out from under his and spin around to face him. Raising your hand to strike out, you frozen in your tracks as you stared in shock at the man that stood before you.
You recognized him immediately, but that didn’t mean that his appearance hadn’t changed. It had only been a year, but he had grown broader than he used to be, his form taking up most of your field of vision. His hair was different too; when you had last seen him, it had been much longer than your own, wound in a tight braid. But now it had been cut short, bangs he hadn’t had before hanging down over his forehead.
You had thought that seeing Usan would scare you after what he had done. But looking at him now, all you could think about was how handsome he had become. Why had you never noticed before?
You stared at each other as you tried to get a read on what he was thinking. But his face was blank, as if he was too drained right now to show any emotion. You knew that you were nearly at that point yourself.
“Usan… why are you here?” you whispered, and he shook his head minutely, not breaking eye contact with you.
“I don’t use that name anymore,” he replied quietly. “I am now called Zed.”
Your tired brain took the information in slowly. It did make sense that he would stop using his Kinkou name, given that he had left the Order, but the new name left you with only more questions. But given that this was not the first time he had told you of a name change, you knew that there were more important queries that you wanted answers for first.
It was hard to force yourself to say the words, but you needed to know. “Did you really kill Master Kusho?”
He said nothing in reply, his stony gaze flitting away from you and telling you as much as his words could have. So it was true. You couldn’t help the anger that surged up within you as you stared at his face.
“How could you do this, Usan?” you questioned angrily. “He used to be your master, and you–”
“I did what I had to,” Zed interrupted you, voice sounding resolute as he stared down at you. “The Kinkou have the tools to win the war against Noxus, and they intended to squander them while innocent Ionians die. With this power, I can save our people!”
“He was Shen’s father!” you appealed emotionally. “And the leader of the Kinkou. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Not enough to let all of Ionia die,” Zed retorted, anger bleeding into his voice. “We needed the Tears of the Shadow, and I did what I had to in order to get it.”
Your head was spinning from his blunt words. He clearly didn’t regret killing his previous master, as long as it got him what he wanted. But if he had got what he wanted, then why was he here? Why had he come to you now after going a full year without seeing you even once?
“…why are you here?” you asked softly.
His face relaxed at last, most of the tension leaving his face as you stared at him, waiting for an answer. Your back was still against the tree, caged in by Zed’s body, but you weren’t afraid. Not of the boy you had known for most all of your life. But his reluctance to answer your question made you want to push his buttons, do whatever you had to do to get him to tell you what you wanted to know.
“Are you here to kill me too?” you asked him, careful to keep your voice neutral.
His brown eyes went wide, expression looking like you had slapped him. The hurt in his eyes made you feel bad for saying what you had, but you didn’t have a choice. You needed answers from him.
“…no,” he answered at last.
“Why not?” you pressed. “You killed Master Kusho. What makes my life any different to you?”
“You’ve always been different!” he growled lowly, and the emotion in his voice caught you off guard.
You didn’t know what to say to that, but he didn’t give you a chance to say anything as he leaned in towards you, flattening your back against the tree as he slotted his mouth against yours. He closed his eyes immediately, but yours remained open with shock. While you remained frozen, Zed’s tongue slipped into your mouth, and you found your eyes fluttering closed as you relaxed into the kiss at last.
You were panting softly as he finally pulled back from you, realizing with embarrassment just how much you had enjoyed kissing him, even knowing what he had done. The moment was not meant to last, as his next words felt like ice water being poured on your skin.
“I wanted you to join my order.”
“Your order…?” you replied shakily.
“The Noxian invaders have to be stopped, and I have created my own order that isn’t bound to archaic notions of balance. I intend to protect Ionia, no matter the cost,” he explained passionately, a fire burning in his eyes.
You knew your answer as soon as he had asked you to join him, the words feeling like they were tearing you in two.
“I can’t,” you spoke quietly, and Zed’s face fell as you continued. “The Kinkou have lost their leader. And even if I agree with your goal, you still killed Master Kusho.”
“I see,” he replied simply.
You looked down, unable to look at him any longer as guilt burned in your chest. You both knew that this moment had to end, as he had to return to his order, and you to yours. You knew it would be selfish to try and keep him here, no matter how much you didn’t want to lose him again.
“Please stay safe,” you implored him, voice wavering and eyes closing.
He didn’t reply, and even though you hadn’t heard a sound, you knew he was gone. Sinking to the ground, you leaned back against the tree, pulling your knees to your chest as you once again mourned the loss of your dearest friend.
You allowed yourself the moment of peace that you had come here seeking, only now you had even more on your mind. The silence around you now just felt suffocating, nothing around to distract you from the things you desperately didn’t want to confront within yourself.
It was with great dread that you had to acknowledge that Usan… that Zed wasn’t completely wrong in his ideals. You had been holding doubts in your heart ever since he had left the Kinkou.
Everything you had ever heard about Noxus made it impossible for you to not know of their brutality. They would kill anything and anyone in their pursuit to conquer other lands. There was no doubt that their invasion had cost many Ionian lives already.
You wanted to be devoutly Kinkou and stay dedicated to maintaining balance without distraction, but you couldn’t. You realized that now. You could no longer delude yourself into believing that the Kinkou notion of balance was always right and just.
The Kinkou had the power to help push the Noxians back, but refused to help the people of Ionia unless spirit and man were imbalanced. For the first time, you found yourself thinking that the Kinkou were wrong. After all, would there even be an Ionia for the Kinkou to operate in if Noxus conquered the land due to their refusal to help?
It was with a heavy heart that you realized that you could no longer be a member of the Kinkou, not after you had realized how deeply unsatisfied you had become with the doctrine. It was all that you had ever known, the only family that you could remember, but you would have to leave it all behind.
But at the same time, you could not join Zed and his shadow order. Even if you agreed with why he had killed Master Kusho, he had still taken an innocent life. You could not join forces with someone who almost acted no better than a Noxian, killing to take things that did not belong to him. You could only hope that Shen would forgive you for the decision you felt that you had no choice but to make.
You stayed around as a last service to the Kinkou. There were many injuries to be healed, and procedures to follow to formally declare Shen as the next Eye of Twilight. But beyond that, Shen needed you right now. His father had just died, and now responsibilities were being thrown at him left and right. He never uttered one word of complaint, but you knew that he was struggling.
It took months for the Kinkou to recover from the great loss it had been dealt, but eventually things began to return to normal. As Shen got used to his new role and the Kinkou adapted, you knew that your time was running out. You could not use the Kinkou as a crutch forever, and it was that thought that brought you to see Shen in his room.
“You wish to leave?” Shen asked knowingly before you had a chance to stay anything.
“How did you–”
“I have known you for many years,” Shen answered. “And you have been especially restless since Usan killed my father.”
Your eyes went wide with shock. You hadn’t expected him to talk about his father’s death so bluntly; you hadn’t mentioned it to him at all for fear of upsetting him, but here he was bringing it up on his own.
You hung your head in shame, Shen’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder. You slowly looked back up at him, finding a softer look on his face than you expected.
“Everyone has their own path. I cannot fault you if yours no longer lies with the Kinkou,” he said, nothing but respect in his expression.
“I’m sorry,” you said, the words coming out before you could stop them as the guilt that you felt bubbled up to the surface. You just felt so guilty for leaving after all the Kinkou and Shen had done for you.
“Stop worrying,” he said gently, but firmly. “The Kinkou will not end with your departure. You must do what is right for you. I have no right to stop you.”
You knew that was as nice of a goodbye as you could have gotten from the serious man. You knew this was what you needed to do, but it didn’t make it any less hard to leave your friend behind.
“Thank you,” you said, feeling choked with emotion as you leaned over to hug Shen, your arms not able to fully wrap around his large frame. Shen’s arms came up to awkwardly return your embrace, his hands on your back.
“I wish you luck, my friend.”
You had felt like a lost soul for a while as you had wandered to the north of Thanjuul in search of a new place to belong. You journeyed through towns, exploring the world outside the Kinkou that you had never experienced before. You were having a hard time shaking your feelings of being a fish out of water away, but now that you had seen Ionia as it was, you knew that you had made the right decision to leave the Kinkou.
Your search for belonging took you to Shon-Xan in Northern Ionia, to a village along the coast. You had been in town for only a day when a small band of Noxians decided to siege the small village, confident that their skill could best those in the peaceful village.
The screams had alerted you to trouble on the shores, and you had rushed to join the few capable men and women who attempted to drive the invaders back. You had experienced fighting demons and unruly spirits, but this was your first time fighting against other humans in a life-or-death situation. But even without that experience, you had been in training for many years, and it showed. The cocky Noxians were no match for you.
You drove the invaders back easily, not one of them escaping with their lives. You were initially conflicted taking the lives of other humans, but seeing innocent villagers barely escaping with their lives told you that you were doing the right thing. These people needed your help, and you were more than willing to provide it. This was it. You had found your meaning.
The village was smaller than others on the coast, so it was a lower-priority target for the Noxians, but that did not mean that you were entirely safe. Any invaders that tried to conquer the village were swiftly met with the blade of your daggers and the might of your Kinkou-learned magic.
As the invasion continued to rage across Ionia, you found yourself travelling to the more war-ravaged areas of Shon-Xan to help fight the Noxian armies that sought to conquer. The life of a wandering warrior was not easy, and you fell into an exhausted sleep more days than not, but it was worth it to you to protect the land that you had lived in all of your life.
It took years for the war to subside, the land ravaged and many lives lost in the conflict. You had lived with your focus narrowed on the war for so long that you found yourself again unsure of what to do at war’s end. Ionia was no longer at war, but there was now an internal conflict rising between those who wanted Ionia to go back to its pacifistic roots and those who wanted to unite Ionia as a militaristic power to ward off any potential invasions in the future. You wanted no part of the debate; you weren’t a leader, and didn’t intend to insert yourself into Ionian politics now.
You had been floundering when an acquaintance from your time in the war offered you the chance to travel with her from Shon-Xan to the Ionian island of Ralin to the east. You had started out doing small jobs in exchange for the money you needed to survive, but eventually your reputation as a war hero began to earn you more notice, and with that came more opportunities.
You found yourself drifting between the Ionian islands and the mainland as you took on various jobs. You exterminated deadly beasts, escorted important people to their destinations, recovered stolen items, and whatever other requests caught your attention.
When your life had gotten a little less hectic, you had made a decision to send a letter to Shen, hoping that he had survived the war and remained at the old Kinkou temple in Thanjuul. A return letter arriving for you a few weeks later was the relief that you needed; Shen was okay, and the Kinkou had survived. You were happy to hear from your old friend, and began to exchange letters when you had the time between jobs.
It was hard for you to believe sometimes that it had been ten years since you had been a member of the Kinkou, and since you had seen Shen or Usan. You had heard whispers of the operations of the shadow order that Usan had created, but had never run into them yourself. You still found yourself calling him Usan in your head; the name Zed just felt unnatural on your lips, like it was meant for a stranger, and not the man you had known for most of your life.
As much as it pained you to admit it, Zed was a stranger to you now. You hadn’t sought him out, and would have no idea what you would say to him now. It felt so foreign to you that you used to be able to talk to him for hours, but now not a word came to mind when you pondered what you would say if you ever saw him again.
Luckily, the opportunities you had to dwell on Zed were few and far between with how busy you had been lately. There had been an increase in bandit attacks lately, and you now found yourself walking along a path towards Kotha in the Ionian province of Zhyun. You had been pushing yourself too hard lately; the bandits sieging the nearby town of Thonx had taken you longer than you had thought to dispatch. You could only hope that there would be an inn in Kotha with an open room for the night.
It was due to your tiredness that you didn’t notice the trouble until it was too late. You had just approached the start of a short bridge over the Sotka River when you finally noticed the two figures standing on the bridge, and the screams of the man that they were dangling off the bridge by a rope.
You froze in place; you didn’t normally make a habit of intervening in gang situations unless you were asked to, but at the same time, you were now too close to avoid being seen as one of the people on the bridge turned towards you. It was too dark for you to see detail in the faces of the two people, and you slowly reached down to the dagger at your side as one of the figures began to approach you as the other continued to hold the rope.
You let out an annoyed exhale as you got into a battle stance. You really didn’t want to fight when you were already tired, but you had no choice. Gangsters didn’t tend to be lenient with witnesses to their crimes, but at the same time, you refused to die here for such a stupid reason.
You were more than ready when the man came within your striking range, flipping behind him and pressing one of your daggers to his neck.
“I have no interest in your business,” you hissed sternly. “I will continue on this path and you can continue whatever it is you were doing.”
The man stayed silent and still, which confused you until his companion on the bridge spoke up.
“Shen!” a woman’s voice cried out from the bridge, and your hand went lax, allowing the man in front of you to gently grasp your hand and remove the dagger from being pointed at his neck before turning to face you.
“…Shen?”
He was older, but his face had not changed beyond recognition. His hair was up in a topknot, the sides of his head shaved. The biggest change in him was his eyes; they were all-white, a product of his elevation to the Eye of Twilight. It was jarring to not see his brown eyes anymore, but he could clearly still see, as he recognized you as well, gently speaking your name in response.
“Shen!” you cried happily, feeling like you had been transported back to your past as you stared at his face. But just as quickly, concern began to bubble up in your mind. “What are you doing here?”
Shen’s expression hardened again, but he was interrupted before he could answer by the cries of the man dangling from the bridge.
“Please, I’ll tell you! Just let me up!” he shouted, struggling on the rope. Looking around the side of the bridge told you that he was being suspended just above circling carnivorous fish, and suddenly the desperation in his cries made more sense.
The man began to start listing odd names as the woman fished a scroll out of a waist bag and began to scribble on it. Sensing that it was better to leave her to what she was doing, you turned your focus back to Shen, one eyebrow raised as you waited for his explanation.
“Khada Jhin has escaped.”
What? You blinked, having a hard time processing Shen’s words. Khada Jhin had been in prison for so long, how could he have escaped now? He would have to have been helped by someone. But the only people who knew where Jhin had been imprisoned were Shen, Usan and Master Kusho. And with Master Kusho dead, and Shen on Jhin’s trail, that left only one possibility that twisted your stomach in knots.
“Usan came to inform me of Jhin’s escape,” Shen added.
“So it wasn’t…” you trailed off, but Shen understood where you had been going with your words.
“Zed may have informed the wrong person of Jhin’s location, but I do not believe that he freed Jhin himself,” he answered.
You felt immediately relieved, but hated yourself for it. You hated the way that you still wanted to believe the best in Usan, even after what he had done to Master Kusho. You wanted to believe that Usan was not capable of releasing one of the most prolific serial killers in Ionia back into the world. But if it wasn’t Usan, then who? What reason could someone have to free such a vicious monster from its cage?
Strangled cries drew your attention back to the bridge to see the woman pulling the rope back up, the dangling man desperately trying not to squirm too much and end up falling into the water. At last, he was pulled back up and onto the bridge, the woman severing the rope with a dagger.
“I hope that all your information is right, for your sake,” she told the man with very casual menace.
The man didn’t even reply, scrambling to his feet without bothering to properly remove the rope from his ankles, stumbling on rope as he ran off the bridge and away from the woman.
Grinning in satisfaction, the woman approached you and Shen, holding the scroll in her hand. Now that she was closer, you were able to get a better look at her. She was younger than you and Shen, her dark hair tied up with a green cloth that matched the rest of her outfit. Wispy tattoos swirled up one of her arms, and sharp kama blades hung at her side. You weren’t sure who she was; no memories of this girl came to mind.
“Got the list,” she told Shen, a satisfied smile on her face. “Men will tell you anything when you dangle them over man-eating fish!”
She was talking to Shen, but you noticed her curiously looking you over, just as you had been doing to her. Shen looked between you before stepping back up to allow you and the girl a better look at each other.
“This is my former student, Akali,” Shen introduced, Akali giving you a short wave, but remaining on her guard.
You offered her your name in return with a smile. You hadn’t known that Shen had taken on a student; he hadn’t mentioned her in any of his letters.
“She can be trusted, Akali,” Shen told her, aware of his student’s wariness. “She was once a member of the Kinkou.”
“Oh,” Akali replied with a nod. “And you told her about, uh…”
“Yes, I told her of Jhin’s escape,” Shen answered.
Akali’s demeanor shifted at once, a friendly smile gracing her face. “Alright, so no need for secrets then. You coming with us to hunt Jhin down or what?”
Shen looked sternly at his former apprentice. “She did not come here to be burdened with our cause.”
“Wait,” you interjected. You had already made up your mind the second he had mentioned Jhin’s escape. “I want to help. I just finished a job, and I won’t be able to relax with that monster on the loose.”
Shen’s face was blank, and you fixed him with a frown. “I haven’t just been sitting around all these years. Let me help you recapture Jhin.”
Akali was easier to sway as she made her way to your side, holding her paper out so you could get a look at the unusual names written on it. “Any of these names sound familiar to you? Jhin was on one of these ships this month, and we need to find out which one.”
You were surprised at the lead Shen and Akali had managed to procure on the so-called golden demon as you walked around a marketplace in Kotha asking for any information on a deadly incident on a ship where sixteen people were noted as being killed by a demon. As Khada Jhin always killed in units of four, there was no other conclusion to come to in regards to the culprit.
So far, you had very little luck with the traders at the marketplace. Many had heard of the deaths of Lord Jaetha and his family on that ship, but had no further information, simply expressing their horror or disbelief at the brutality of the incident. In short, you were getting nowhere fast. You could almost feel the leads on Jhin’s whereabouts escaping you like they were grains of sand between your fingers.
“Hey,” you spoke up after quite a while of remaining silent, Shen and Akali looking over at you. “I’ll go ask the merchants on the south side. We’ll never be done by sundown if we stay in a group.”
They accepted your reasoning fairly easily, and you split from them with a promise to meet again after you had finished your part of the information gathering. Wishing each other luck, you departed to the south, heading down the street at a normal pace before ducking into an alleyway at the next turn. You did intend to do your part in questioning the merchants, but you also had one other matter of business to attend to.
The war with Noxus had sharpened your senses, and your more recent work had honed them further. From the moment you had begun to question the merchants, you had been feeling eyes on your group. You had spent the next hour taking careful glances around, trying to pinpoint your apparent stalker, and had only just noticed a figure in maroon clothing that seemed to always be in the same area of the market as you were.
You could only take very quick glances at the person, not wanting to tip them off by being too obvious. Their robes covered their body, an adjoining headscarf covering their head. You couldn’t even tell if the figure was a man or a woman, or guess why they were following your group.
You didn’t seem to be their main focus, as you peeked your head out of the alleyway to see them continuing to follow behind Shen and Akali. As you stared at the figure, your thoughts began to turn to darker possibilities. Could this be Jhin himself? You had never seen what Jhin looked like, so you couldn’t be sure, but the figure was hiding themselves too well in the marketplace to be a petty thief. They had to be a professional of some kind, and you just hoped it wasn’t Jhin; the marketplace was crowded at this time of day, and there would be a lot of victims if Jhin was to set his sights on causing trouble here.
As you watched Shen and Akali continue down the isle of stalls, you formulated a plan. You walked down the alleyway, checking that it opened up to the next isle of shops before darting over to a stall selling colorful fabrics. Purchasing some cloth, you retreated back to the shadows of the alley.
You quickly wrapped the cloth around your head, allowing the excess fabric to hang over you like a poncho. If the person was following Shen and Akali, then they had also seen you. If you were going to be able to surprise them, then you would have to make sure that they didn’t see you coming.
You positioned yourself by the stall nearest to the alley, which happened to be a vendor of fine beads and crafted jewelry. You perused the vendor’s stock, keeping your real focus on the entrance to the isle, waiting for your target to arrive.
You watched as Shen and Akali entered into your scope of vision, unaware that they were being tailed. You waited a few minutes longer, and then there was no doubt in your mind as the figure in red entered the isle of stalls. There was no way that the figure’s movements could be a coincidence at this point, which solidified your resolve. You would not allow this person to hunt your friends, or the unsuspecting townspeople.
You asked the merchant about her beads, acting as if you were just an interested customer, all the while tracking the figure with your eyes. Shen and Akali went about their business, and you looked down to examine a jade bracelet, your hood falling over your eyes as they came to question the lady running the stall.
“I did hear tell of that,” the old woman answered. “Just awful. Lord Jaetha has always been good to the people here. I pray he found peace in death.”
“Alright, thanks for your time,” Akali replied, and you could easily hear the frustrated undertones in her voice. They must still have been having no luck.
Off they went to the last stall on the other side of the isle, and you looked over to see the figure much closer than they were before. From this distance, you could at least tell that it was a man from the way he was built. Not a good sign for your Jhin theory, but it gave you an idea on how to go about accosting the mysterious stranger.
If you tried to fight him here, you would attract too much attention to yourself, not to mention potentially endanger the people in the marketplace. This time, you would have to use a more covert approach; one that wouldn’t alert the man to what you actually were until you had confirmed his identity. If you acted as a simple escort, then you could suss out his identity while keeping yours to yourself until the moment was right.
Shen and Akali left the isle at last, and you finally broke away from the jewelry vendor to stand against a wall by the alleyway, intending to drag the man in there with you as soon as he got close enough. You got lucky, as the man was walking on your side of the isle, making your job much easier. You kept your breath steady, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
As soon as his arm was within your range, you quickly grabbed his wrist, tugging him into the alleyway with you. Pressing him against the wall, you leaned your head up against his neck to avoid him seeing your face.
“You look lonely,” you said, purposefully speaking in a higher pitch than your normal voice. “I can keep you company… for a price.”
He didn’t seem to suspect anything was amiss as he gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not interested.”
That voice… you realized in an instant just how wrong you had been about the identity of your pursuer. You reached a hand up to remove his hood, desperate to confirm his identity, when you were stopped by his larger hand encircling your wrist to stop you in your attempt to reveal his face.
“Usan, please!” you cried out, and the man before you stiffened in surprise, his grip on your wrist softening enough for you to shake his fingers off and pull his hood back enough that you could see his face.
His hair was a little longer, and his eyes were a little darker, but there was no doubt that the man before you was Usan. Even ten years later, this man would never truly be a stranger to you. Seeing his face now, you realized just how much you had missed him. He still had that small scar running through one eyebrow, and was still a head taller than you at least. It wasn’t as if his scars or height could have changed since you had seen him, but you still found yourself surprised by how much his appearance had stayed the same.
You pulled your hand back from his hood at last with a wistful smile. “Sorry… I know your name isn’t Usan anymore.”
He stared down at you, and you noticed how weary he looked, like he had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders for too long. What had he been doing in the past ten years since you had seen him?
“Call me what you want,” he replied as he stared back at you.
He just looked so tired; it hurt your heart to see him like this. You could deny it all you wanted, but as you looked at Zed’s face, you knew that you had always carried a soft spot for him, no matter what he had done. It was why you could never truly turn your back on him; even now you found yourself wanting to comfort him, as badly as things had ended the last time you two had met.
You reached a hand up towards his face, placing it over his cheek. Zed seemed to welcome the contact, closing his eyes at your touch. You stayed like that for a moment, but a burst of chatter from the marketplace reminded you of why you were here.
“Zed… why are you following Shen?” you asked.
Zed’s brown eyes opened and the tender moment was lost as you pulled your hand back from his face.
“The only way to capture Jhin is if Shen and I join forces, but he refuses to work with me,” Zed explained, and you nodded.
“You can’t be too surprised by that after what happened,” you said sadly as you took a quick glance towards the end of the alleyway, where a child dashed in to retrieve a lost ball before running back out to play with his friends.
“No, I can’t blame him,” Zed answered with a sigh. “But Jhin is more than we can handle if we work separately. He’ll need my help to take Jhin down.”
You bit your lip, missing how Zed’s eyes followed the movement. You couldn’t deny that they were the only two people alive who had caught Jhin before, and had the best chance of catching him again. But even though you knew that, you also knew that you couldn’t convince Shen to work with the man that had killed his father.
You sighed, unsure if you were making the right decision or not. “I won’t tell him I saw you. But please be careful. I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”
Zed looked away from you. “Jhin is dangerous. I will do what I have to for him to be stopped.”
“Usan!” Your angry voice brought his eyes back to yours. “I don’t want you to die!”
He had nothing to say to that, which only annoyed you more. Did he have no care for his own life in all of this?
Turning on your heel, you promptly exited the alleyway, heading towards the south side of the market to fulfil your part of the information gathering. So much had changed, and still Usan was as stubborn and reckless as he had always been. You only hoped for his sake that he would snap out of it before he really got himself killed.
Two days later, you had travelled to the town of Nanthee in search of the town’s elder, who likely possessed important information on why Lord Jaetha and his family were targeted by Jhin. But the lead was not meant to be; the day before you arrived in town, the elder and three others had been brutally murdered. The killings being in a group of four, there was no room to believe that there was any culprit but Jhin behind the deaths.
You knew that Zed had to be somewhere nearby, but you hadn’t been able to sense him since the day you had confronted him at the marketplace. Almost as soon as you had stormed off, you had regretted losing your temper. The first time you had seen him in ten years and you had ruined it with your big mouth. You would have to hope that you hadn’t severed that link forever.
You followed behind Shen into the building where the elder had been killed, Akali waiting outside at Shen’s urging. This was your first exposure to Jhin’s work, and it was somehow even more gruesome than you had imagined.
Four bodies, broken and mangled, lay in the entryway of the room, as if they had been fleeing to safety as they were killed. Grotesque vines wound around their bodies, the flesh of their faces peeled back in a gruesome likeness of a flower. If this was only a fraction of what Jhin was capable of, then you feared for all of Ionia.
Shen approached the bodies with you close behind as you set about tending to the corpses. Their skin felt cold and stiff to the touch, as if you were dealing with broken puppets, not people who had been alive the day before. You couldn’t allow a maniac like this to be free. Jhin had to be stopped at all costs, or tragedies like this would continue to happen.
You found yourself glad to have experienced the brutal nature of war, because otherwise you likely wouldn’t have been able to stomach the gore that you were working with now. By the time you had finished burying the bodies, you were feeling weary in spirit, hoping that those people would be the last victims of the golden demon before he was caught. But it would not be easy to catch Jhin; you were too experienced to be that naïve about the reality of the situation.
“I hope we can stop him,” you said, speaking the first words that either you or Shen had spoken since you had buried the victims.
Shen looked over at you. “Behind his demonic cruelty, he is still a man. I intend to make sure he is imprisoned once more before anyone else dies.”
You looked forward to see a group of men in blue standing around just outside the building that you had been in. You had almost forgot; Shen had requested members of the Kinkou to accompany the investigation, and they were likely waiting for a debrief from their leader regarding the bodies of Jhin’s newest victims. It was easy to forget they were here with all that was going on, but you knew that Shen would want to speak with them.
“Take your time,” you told him. “I’ll go find Akali.”
You agreed to meet up afterwards, heading to go find Akali, who had wandered off somewhere. You found her fairly easily, wandering aimlessly around Nanthee.
“We finished with the bodies,” you told her.
She bit her lip. “Were they really as bad as Shen was saying?”
“Yes.” You didn’t feel the need to sugarcoat the truth with her. “We need to catch him before he can do that to anyone else.”
Your conversation was interrupted by a loud gong ringing through the port town. Looking over at Akali, she shrugged back at you. “Must be a ship leaving. They like to hit the gong four times when ships leave port.”
Sounded like a pretty typical port town custom to you. The gong rang out for the fourth time and then stopped, just as Akali had described. Just as you were about to suggest taking a walk around town to give Shen some time, something behind Akali caught your attention.
Loud explosions began to pierce the air along with screams that were abruptly cut off. Your eyes were drawn immediately to the lanterns that were strung up along all of the streets as you watched the lanterns down the road begin to detonate and explode.
“Akali, the lanterns are bombs!” you spoke hurriedly. “We need to run!”
Akali didn’t ask questions as the two of you began to sprint off the street and towards one of the large carved heads made of stone that were scattered around the town. You heard the explosions and felt the heat right behind you, but you didn’t stop running. You dove for the top of the stone head, Akali hot on your heels as you both ducked down and covered your heads as explosions continued to ring out all around you. You both stayed down on the ground until the explosions finally stopped, the town deathly quiet.
You stood up, dusting yourself off as you looked over to see Akali doing the same. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live,” she groaned. “You?”
“I’m fine,” you replied. “We got out just in time. I can’t say the same for the townspeople though.”
“I’ll get him for this!” Akali promised angrily as some of Shen’s men joined you on the stone head.
“Hey, that ship!” Akali exclaimed, and you looked over at the port to see a ship sailing away. Akali turned to one of the Kinkou men. “Hey, where is that boat going?”
“To the port of Piltover,” the man answered, and you frowned.
“You think that Jhin…?”
“No doubt he’s on that ship,” she answered bitterly. “Who else would cause this much destruction and then run away like a coward?”
It was a bitter feeling, knowing that Jhin was within your grasp, only to escape across the sea after decimating most of the town. And you were still haunted by the knowledge that the person who had freed the demon was also out there somewhere. This whole affair was starting to reek of the Navori Brotherhood.
The Navori Brotherhood were the most fervent champions of the cause to unite Ionia and bring the land to military prominence. Their cause had only become more radical after the war, setting their sights on uniting Ionia under one rule… their rule. And they were willing to kill whoever they had to in order to achieve their goal.
It made so much sense. Your mind drifted back to a conversation days ago in the marketplace where a merchant had mentioned that Lord Jaetha had been firm in his opposition to the radical brotherhood. And then he and his family had all been killed.
Jhin was too chaotic to involve himself in Ionian politics… unless he owed a debt. He had to be acting at the command of the Navori Brotherhood; there was no other explanation for the targeted killings.
But while you knew the basic information about the brotherhood, that didn’t tell you much. It wasn’t as if there was anyone in Ionia who hadn’t heard of the Navori brotherhood. But any details that laid below the surface were scarce; you didn’t know the details of their operations, or even who their leader was. Or how they had learned of Jhin’s location, allowing them to free him.
There wasn’t a whole lot left of the town; buildings aflame, columns of smoke rising in the air. You didn’t notice many survivors, which was an unfortunate reflection of the careful planning that went into Jhin’s brutality. The only figures you noticed in the wreckage were Kinkou who roamed the wreckage, trying to find any survivors, with little luck.
Your attention was then drawn to the edge of the water as you noticed a silver-haired figure in red dragging a man in blue out of the water. You had forgotten all about Zed in the chaos, but there he was saving Shen from drowning.
Almost immediately, Shen was on his feet, sword drawn as he stood in a battle stance. You should have expected something like this to happen when the two men met again. No matter how much Zed wanted to work with Shen to capture Jhin, the wounds of their past were too hard for Shen to forgive.
As the two men fought, you found yourself scrambling down towards the beach, needing to get to them but unsure of what you would do when you got there. It took you much longer to get to them with all the fire and rubble in the way, but you pressed on.
Shen and Zed continued to fight as you made your way down, allowing you your first glimpse at Zed’s shadow magic as he disappeared into shadows and then reappeared elsewhere. You could tell that he had spent a long time mastering his shadow abilities, but Shen was no slouch in that regard either.
Shen fought fiercely, and despite Zed’s attempts to quell the fight, he was forced to defend himself. But Shen’s will was stronger, and your feet touched the sand just as Shen slammed Zed down into the ground. You approached the pair slowly, Shen now on his knees next to the unconscious Zed, tears in his eyes as he wept for the severed bond between them.
You were unable to speak up, your mouth feeling dry as you searched your mind for words that wouldn’t come. As you struggled with indecision, the remainder of the Kinkou that had come to Nanthee with you approached, and then Shen stood up at last.
You stared at him, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes as he instructed his men to bind Zed with chains and scrolls that nulled his magic. You weren’t sure what to think, but simply stood there as Shen announced his intentions to burn Zed’s shadow magic from his body and then throw him in prison. This certainly wasn’t the reunion you had expected, but at the same time, you could not stand in Shen’s way, not after what Zed had done to his father. You just wished that it didn’t have to hurt so much to see the former friends as fractured as they were.
After the bombing, it was decided that you would spend the night at the beach as it was getting dark and the burning rubble that was the town was still too treacherous to travel through. You helped to set up tents using supplies the Kinkou had brought along from their last camp that was just out of town. Along with the basic supplies, you watched as a wooden trailer was brought down the rocks, being pulled by two worax. The trailer was complete with high walls and a roof, and it didn’t take a lot of effort to guess what they planned to do with it.
You watched as two men picked up Zed’s unconscious body and brought him over to the trailer that had been set up away from the tents. While they chained Zed up by his wrists, his feet barely touching the floor, a third man set about pasting magic-nulling paper talismans inside and outside of the wooden trailer. It was a little hard for you to watch the scene, so you turned back to your work on the tents.
After you were done setting up camp, you began to assist the wounded, the sun having set long before you had finished. You were exhausted, but didn’t feel like you could sleep. By now, most of the Kinkou had retired to their respective tents, but you could only stare longingly at the wooden trailer that held Zed within it.
“You are not prohibited from seeing him.”
You inhaled sharply; you hadn’t noticed Shen approach you. You looked over at him to see his face looking impassive as usual. After you had stared at each other for a short moment, Shen turned to look at the makeshift jail cell.
“Usan is awake,” he told you. “I checked on him earlier.”
“…oh?” You tried not to sound too interested, but Shen easily saw through you.
“Usan is not connected to my past alone. It is not a betrayal for you to speak with him,” he insisted calmly.
“But I…” You struggled to finish your thought. You wanted to go see him, but you were nervous. With how your last conversation with him ended, would he even want to speak with you?
“Zed is hard to keep in one place. You will have no better chance than now,” Shen added.
He didn’t wait for you to reply, turning back to head towards his own tent. Even as nerves danced in your stomach, your feet began to take you closer to the innocuous-looking wooden trailer. The beach was so quiet that the sound of your breathing was all you could hear as you brought a hand up, intending to open the door, but lacking the courage to face him again.
You couldn’t throw this chance away. Shen was right; if you wanted to talk to Zed, then it would have to be now. It was certainly better to do it now when everyone else was sleeping and save yourself the unwanted attention from the Kinkou who slept just across the beach.
You couldn’t let yourself chicken out, grasping the door at last, pulling it open and climbing the single step up to enter into the trailer. You closed the door behind you, not wanting any lone Kinkou to see the door open and come to investigate.
You stiffened, hand still against the door as a weak laugh rang out from behind you. You slowly turned around, Zed waiting for you to look his way before speaking.
“I’ve been wondering when you would come,” he said, his voice dry and raspy.
There was no nice way to put it… he looked awful. Zed was chained to the ceiling of the trailer by his wrists, his shirt removed, allowing you a good look at the black tattoos that covered his shoulders and torso and gave him his shadow magic. Shen had clearly done a number on him in their fight; one of his eyes was swollen, the skin around it purple and bruised. His face and body were covered in cuts and bruises, and you knew the position that he forcibly found himself in now couldn’t possibly be comfortable for him.
You couldn’t free him, but you could ease his parched throat. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out your waterskin, approaching him and raising it to his mouth. He accepted the water, keeping his eyes on yours as he drank from it. You gave him all the water you had in the waterskin; you could get more to drink later, but he clearly couldn’t.
You found yourself distracted by a droplet of water that rolled down to his chin from his lips as you tried to think of what to say to him. Zed watched you, waiting for you to speak up first.
“You look bad,” you said at last, staring at his very obvious black eye.
He stared at you, expression flat. “That’s what you want to talk about?”
“It’s been a long time, Zed. I don’t know what to talk to you about after all these years,” you answered honestly. “We’re not the same people that we were when we were Kinkou.”
His eyes narrowed as you spoke. “You’re not Kinkou?”
Oh. You supposed that fact had yet to come up, but you had no reason to hide it from him. Even if he did hold any ill will towards you, he was securely chained and bound.
“I haven’t been a member of the Order in a long time. I left a few months after you attacked the temple,” you explained.
“But why would you…”
You sighed. “Because you were right. I couldn’t just abandon Ionia to soothe unruly nature spirits while Noxus was at our shores.”
He looked frustrated as he took the time to consider the new information. “You could have come to me.”
His voice was soft, but that didn’t make his words any less frustration for you. “How, Zed? I didn’t know where you went.”
“You could have left with me that day,” he insisted quietly.
You laughed humorlessly. “Did you forget that you asked me to come with you not even two hours after you killed Master Kusho?”
He didn’t reply, and you continued, the pent-up anger from wounds not fully healed becoming too much for you to hold back. “You left me without saying goodbye. For a whole year, I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, Usan! You didn’t even send one letter, and then you come back, kill Master Kusho and then try to pretend that we were like we used to be!”
You hastily wiped the few tears you felt pooling in your eyes with your sleeve. “You have Usan’s face, but I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”
You were getting too emotional. You were feeling entirely too exposed and vulnerable after your outburst, regretting lashing out at him almost immediately. Avoiding his eyes, you hastily retreated, exiting the trailer into the cold night air.
Running a hand through your hair as you tried to settle your nerves, you cursed your own actions. Your best chance to have a real talk with Zed and you had let your anger overtake you. As much as he was deserving of your ire, you should have kept your cool. You really needed to get a handle of your stubborn streak, you bitterly admitted.
You quietly crept into your tent, laying down under thin sheets and trying to sleep, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Zed. You were having trouble sleeping, but you weren’t strung up by your wrists. There was no way that sleep would come easily to Zed tonight, bound as he was. Your mind was troubled, but you didn’t have the physical impediments that were currently making it much more difficult for him to get any sleep.
You didn’t understand yourself; not even an hour ago you were yelling at Zed, but now you were feeling sorry for him. As much as you hated to admit it, your rationality all but abandoned you in the face of confronting your oldest friend. Maybe it was because you had known him for so long that you couldn’t fully condemn him now.
Some part of you had always felt something for him, and it was that part of you now that wanted to go back to that trailer and apologize for yelling at him. But your pride crushed any chance of that happening; you would see how you felt in the morning, and hope that you would have another chance to talk to him alone again. As you felt yourself slipping into sleep, you promised yourself that if that chance were to come, you wouldn’t allow your anger to rule you again.
The next day found you on the move, making your way out of the ruined town alongside the Kinkou. You had been silently walking at Shen’s side, your eyes looking ahead of you at Zed’s wooden cage. You hadn’t mentioned your conversation with Zed, and Shen hadn’t asked, not that you would know what to tell him anyways.
You were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of hoofbeats rapidly approaching. You looked to the side to see a rider in blue approaching you, or more specifically, approaching Shen. Shen stopped walking, signalling the rest of the Kinkou to do the same as the man on horseback came to a stop.
“A message for you from Akali,” the man said, removing a rolled-up scroll from his saddle bag and handing it down to Shen.
You had been wondering where Akali had gone, the last time you had seen her being after the town had been riddled with explosions.
Shen read the note quietly, re-folding it when he was done. After a nod from Shen, the messenger was on his way again, and you tried to catch Shen’s eye, your curiosity piqued.
Shen turned to you as he put the note in his pocket. “Akali has gone to Piltover in search of Jhin.”
“By herself?” you gasped. “That’s practically suicide!”
Shen’s serious expression told you that he agreed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “She is hasty, but she is not wrong. I must go to Piltover to find her before Jhin does.”
“…and Usan?” you asked as you both stared ahead at the wooden trailer.
Shen sighed. “Capturing Jhin is more important than my personal grudges. But if Zed wants to go after Jhin with me, he will have to do it my way. Jhin will be captured alive.”
You shook your head, knowing that Zed would not be happy about that, but it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. Shen needed Zed’s help, but it would be on his own terms. Shen was steadfast in his morals, and even Jhin would not cause him to falter.
“And you?” Shen asked. “Do you intend to travel with us to Piltover?”
You were flattered by the offer, and the underlying confidence Shen had in your skills, but you knew what you had to do.
“I can’t,” you answered. “It’s been bothering me… who freed Jhin?”
Shen’s eyebrows furrowed. “Zed keeps mentioning that. I can only wonder who it was he has told of Jhin’s location.”
“I need to find whoever freed Jhin,” you insisted. “Someone who would unleash that monster on Ionia… they’re as much of a danger as Jhin himself.”
“I wish you luck, my old friend,” Shen said after a moment of silence.
You smiled sadly. “You’ll probably need it more than me. Jhin is not an enemy to be taken lightly.”
“But not an enemy I can allow to continue to plague Ionia,” Shen added.
They would likely be leaving as soon as possible for Piltover, and you saw your window of opportunity closing. This wasn’t how you had intended to do things, but you had to go your own way, and didn’t want to leave any regrets behind.
“…before you free Zed, can I speak with him?” you asked quietly.
“I will go ready the horses,” Shen replied, giving you your answer implicitly.
You nodded as you both went your separate ways, and you noticed how the men guarding Zed’s prison seemed to all leave to busy themselves with other tasks as you approached the cart. You weren’t sure if you were embarrassed or grateful from Shen’s discretion, but for now, you intended not to waste this opportunity.
As much as you hated to think about it, you were both heading into very dangerous situations. You were going to be poking your nose where it didn’t belong, with people that would likely kill to protect their secrets, and Shen and Zed were going after the most brutal serial murderer in Ionia’s history. You knew there would be no sureties that you would all come back alive, which was all the more reason to bare yourself emotionally to Zed now.
You tucked some hair behind your ear, nerves creeping up on you as you were faced with the same wooden door from last night. The only difference between now and last night being that it was no longer dark, your eyes focussing on the patterns in the wood grain as you hesitated. Below all of his shadow magic and steely temperament, he was still the boy that had trained with you for years and given you the chance to be where you were now.
So why did you feel like a shy teenager confessing to a boy for the first time? You weren’t new to interacting with men; you had seduced men for your jobs before, and had met some men that you had liked as more than friends. But Usan was different to you, he had always been. You recalled him telling you the same thing ten years ago, right before he had kissed you.
You felt frozen with nerves, but you couldn’t keep Shen waiting. There was still a murderer on the loose, and Akali needed their help. You couldn’t waste everyone’s time with your indecision.
Zed looked the same as he had last night, save for his black eye, which was a deeper shade of purple than before. He stared at you as he stepped closer to him, trying to decide what to say with your limited time.
“…I missed you,” you said at last. “When you left the Kinkou, and for the past ten years.”
If this was potentially your last conversation with him, you would not let yourself get angry. You kept your voice calm, which seemed to surprise him. But you were determined that this time would be different to every other time you and Usan had parted; no matter what he had done, you would end this conversation with a smile on your face.
“I was bitter and dissatisfied,” he said, and you didn’t detect any anger in his voice. “And I made a selfish choice. You have every right to hate me for what I’ve done.”
“I know,” you replied. “But I can’t stay angry with you. You’ve done a lot of awful, stupid things, but you were also there for me when nobody else was.”
Zed sighed. “I saw a lot of myself in you back then. You wanted so desperately to serve the Kinkou that ignored your existence.”
You couldn’t help a laugh. “It was a little embarrassing to be a new apprentice in my early twenties when all of the other ones were eleven.”
“You never deserved that,” Zed growled with a frown and dark eyes. “The Kinkou were too stuck in their ways to appreciate the potential that you had.”
His unexpected defense of you warmed your heart. You had really missed talking with him like this, only wishing it could have happened under better conditions. But as you gazed at his face, feeling more at peace than you had in a long time, distant sounds of preparation from outside reminded you of your current situation.
“I intend to track down the person that freed Jhin,” you told him, watching closely as Zed’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. You wanted to know what the small change in his expression meant, but then his face went neutral again and you lost your opportunity to analyze him further.
Your nerve had never been higher, so you intended to make your move now. You moved closer to Zed, so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, his eyes brimming with intensity. You brought a hand up to his cheek, fingers trailing down a recent cut along his jaw. Zed didn’t flinch, unwilling to break his eyes away from yours.
“I know you’re going after Jhin,” you said, voice just above a whisper. “But I want you to make me a promise, Zed. If we both live through this, I want to see you without all of this. I don’t want you to leave me behind again.”
As you spoke, you leaned closer to Zed, now so close that your noses barely brushed. You didn’t miss the way he glanced down at your lips before looking back up to your eyes. Zed wasn’t stupid, he clearly understood your intentions, his eyes so dark with want that they were almost black.
“Well?” you prompted, fluttering your eyelashes playfully at him as you waited for a response from the bound man.
“Yes,” he said without delay. “I promi–”
You couldn’t wait any longer, holding his face still with one hand as you leaned in to kiss him. You were both so desperate for this, which was obvious by how quickly the kiss intensified. You were unable to help a moan, so quiet that only the two of you heard it, as Zed caught your tongue with his. Your head felt light as you continued to kiss, and you found yourself wishing that you had done this much sooner.
But Ionia needed you and Zed right now. As nice as this moment was, it had to end. It was with great frustration that you pulled away at last, nibbling gently on his lip as you went. His eyes opened at the same time as yours did, both of you breathing a little harder than you had before the kiss.
You sighed ruefully as you stepped back from him. “I’m holding you to that promise, Zed.”
You didn’t give him a chance to reply, turning and sauntering to the door, swinging your hips as you walked. You didn’t have to turn back to know his eyes were very likely on your ass, or at least you hoped that they would be for your effort to not be for naught.
Even knowing the danger that you would soon be walking into, you had a spring in your step as you climbed down the stairs and back down onto the dirt road you had been travelling on. Looking around, you saw Shen standing by a few horses and made your way over to him. Shen grabbed the reins of one of the horses, leading it up to you as soon as he noticed your approach.
“You got one for me too?” you asked, taking the proffered reins from him.
“We both have danger ahead in our paths,” he answered. “You may no longer be Kinkou, but you are still an important ally.”
His considerate nature made you smile. “I wish you luck, Shen. We’ll both need it.”
He nodded. “Jhin must be stopped, although I am under no delusion that this will be easy.”
You looked back over your shoulder at the lone wooden trailer. “Are you going to go and see him now?”
At Shen’s assent, you began to climb onto your horse. You felt like you had to leave before Zed was freed from his temporary cage; you knew that it would be harder to leave if you saw his face again. You would just have to hope that he would keep his promise and come find you after this was all over.
“Stay safe, Shen. I hope you can find Akali before she’s in under her head.”
Forcing a smile through your worry, you kicked your horse into motion and began to speed up the hill as Shen made his way over to Zed. You kept your focus on the road ahead of you, knowing you would need all of your focus on the arduous task you had assigned yourself.
Nothing was simple when you were dealing with the Navori Brotherhood. They were secretive, preferring to kill and intimidate from the shadows. For such a large and well-connected group, they left almost no tracks of their activities behind.
You had been travelling for weeks, following the tiniest hints that you were able to pick up, feeling like you were grasping at straws more often than not. Even with all your skill and experience, you were struggling to find the one clue that you needed to lead you to the person that had freed Jhin.
It was somewhat of a blow to your pride that your eventual lead came entirely by chance. You had taken to walking around towns at night, as that was when the brotherhood seemed to be most active. You had been unlucky that night, and had been heading back to your inn for the night when you finally got your lucky break.
“We know you’ve been supplying our opposition with coin. Did you think that the brotherhood wouldn’t discover your treachery?”
You froze in place as you made your way to the corner of the street that you were on, peering out from behind a wall to look upon the scene happening just around the corner. You observed men in all gray cornering a lone man against the dingy wall of an alleyway, the man against the wall stammering and shaking.
“I didn’t… I… I would never–”
“We don’t have time for your lies,” one of the men in gray hissed. “This is your only warning. You’ll be dead before we’ll have to ask again.”
The men wasted no more time, and you ducked back as they turned to head your way. You were narrowly able to hide behind an empty merchandise stand as the men passed by you, talking amongst themselves. Their voices were low and they passed by quickly, so you couldn’t hear much of what they were saying, but a brief mention of heading back to the base was enough to catch your interest.
You waited until they were most of the way down the street before you crept out of hiding and began to trail after them. They didn’t seem to be anyone of a higher position in the organization, judging by how easy it was to trail them without being noticed. They walked towards the south exit, looking like they were heading out of town.
As you followed behind them, you began to organize your thoughts on the local geography of this part of Zhyun. If you were right, then this path out of town led towards the city of Kashuri. You hadn’t been there for years, but couldn’t recall any increased presence of the brotherhood when you had been there before. You followed the men for another hour, grateful for the cover of night masking your movements.
You were surprised when the men diverted from the path to Kashuri, seemingly headed towards the rocky, mountainous coast. You had never had any reason to travel this way before, so you were walking in blind. It wouldn’t be hard for you to believe that there could be a Navori Brotherhood base in such a remote location; nobody would really have a reason to travel this way, and if they did, the menacing men in gray would have them turning and fleeing for their lives.
Another hour later found you freezing in your tracks as you watched the men approach the tent-lined rocky cliff. It was just early enough in the morning that there was some light rising on the horizon, allowing you to see just how many tents there were. The tents were composed of dull gray-green fabric tied around warped, gnarled tree trunks, so white that it almost looked like they were made of bone.
It was early in the morning, so there weren’t many people out and about, but the sheer number of tents set up along the coast gave you a good idea of their numbers. But the size of their operations was then the least of your concerns as you looked past the tents to see a tall structure rising out of the fog. It looked to be a natural structure, a temple carved from rock and supported by more of the bonelike trunks. You could only see the top of the temple, the lower section lost in dense, swirling fog.
You were tired, having been awake for nearly a full day by this point, but you knew that you had to make your move now. You couldn’t afford to wait and give the whole brotherhood time to wake up. The decision to free Jhin had to have come from the top of the brotherhood, and you were sure that you would find the person you were looking for in the mountain temple. You knew that it would not be easy to confront the leader of the Navori Brotherhood, but it would be even harder if the entire base were awake.
You waited until the men you were following had retreated into their respective tents before you began making your way around the tents and towards the patch of thick fog. As you got closer, you noticed some smaller towers bordering the main temple. You quickly dashed into the fog, staying low to avoid being seen by any potential guards in the smaller towers.
While the fog helped to conceal you, it also worked against you. The farther you walked in the fog, the more you began to suspect that it was unnatural in natural. You could barely see two feet in front of you, and were forced to navigate yourself solely by moving towards the temple that towered out of the fog, as it was the only thing you could see clearly.
The area was deathly silent, but that didn’t mean that you were alone here. You kept vigilant, one hand in front of you to give you warning in case there were any obstacles in your path. There had been nothing for a while, until your palm finally hit something solid.
Feeling along the surface, you realized that you had finally found yourself at the base of the rock that led to the temple. Looking upwards, you could just barely see the peak of the temple, the fog so thick around you that most of your vision was heavily obscured. You carefully began to circle the building, eventually coming upon a steep set of stairs that would take you to the top of the mountainous temple.
You started to ascend the stairs, the fog beginning to thin out the higher up you went. You still didn’t see anyone around, but that didn’t mean that you could let your guard down. As you emerged from the fog, you looked out at the too-peaceful scene before you.
The top of the mountain was quiet, and would have been almost serene if you didn’t know that it was manned by the most violent terrorist organization Ionia had known in many years. A stone path bordered by green grass led up to a short set of stairs leading up to the temple itself. The opening to the temple was a large archway, but it was too far away for you to see inside the temple from where you stood. Looking around, you saw wildflowers growing in small patches, as well as a gently flowing fountain made of rock.
The temple itself was in stark juxtaposition to the tranquil area that surrounded it, made up of rocky walls and large bone-white tree trunks that climbed the walls of the temple like ivy. You were entranced by the grim temple, but your fascination proved a weakness as you took a step forward, only to be grabbed from behind.
Instantly, your battle instincts took over as you unsheathed one of your daggers, stabbing it into the shoulder of the man who had grabbed you, pulling it back out and flipping away from him. The man cried and dropped to one knee, clutching at his heavily-bleeding shoulder. He was dressed like the other men, a lower-level member of the brotherhood most likely.
Almost immediately, you found yourself surrounded by men in gray from every direction. Cursing your luck, you got into your usual battle stance and got to work. You didn’t give the men the opportunity to attack first, darting out at the man closest to you and slashing at his neck, forcing him to back up or face losing his head. Your initiation seemed to spur the men into action, as they all began to advance on you, weapons at the ready.
They had a distinct numbers advantage on you, but that didn’t mean that you were helpless. The men seemed to rely on brute strength, and were all packed with muscle, which you were able to exploit with your speed as you darted around them, dodging attacks while getting jabs of your own in.
Soon, the stone walkway was painted with the blood of the men, but still more came at you. You were confident in your own skills, but you were well aware that you couldn’t hope to best the entire Navori Brotherhood, even on your best day. Your downfall came too quickly for your liking, a shuriken clipping your shoulder and startling you enough for you to make a slight positioning error, one that your foes pounced on immediately, grappling you and tackling you to the ground, each of your limbs held down by one of the men.
A man with a bloody cut on his cheek and a slash across his collarbone leaned down towards you. “And what would a girl like you be doin’ here?”
You didn’t like the way he said the word girl, but you didn’t intend to answer him either way. You glared at him, hoping that would send a clear enough message in the place of words.
“Well? Who wants to do it?” the man barked. “Ain’t no point in keepin’ her alive!”
You could do little but struggle vainly under the hold of the men, unable to move any more than a pinky finger. You looked around, desperately searching for anything that could help your current situation, but it was hard to see anything past the masses of men in gray. You had to be realistic about your chances of getting out of this, and things were not looking good.
You were considering your options when a voice rang out above the others from over the temple entrance.
“Stop!”
You assumed that the man who had called out was a higher rank than the group of men that surrounded you, because they froze immediately in place without question. Just who was it that had called out? You could hear the voice, but you couldn’t see the man, your vision blocked by the men that surrounded you.
“Bring her here!” the man demanded. “Our lord wants to see her!”
You were hauled to your feet and dragged towards the temple as you continued to try and access your options. You had no idea what this lord of theirs could want with you. The Navori Brotherhood did not waste time idly, so there had to be some reason for their leader to want to see you, but you couldn’t fathom what that reason could be. If they wanted to interrogate you, that could easily have been done by someone of lower rank. So why would the leader go to the trouble of meeting with you themself?
You didn’t bother resisting; there were too many men surrounding you to make escape easy, and besides, you couldn’t allow yourself to pass up this chance to discover the identity of the person that had ordered Jhin freed from his prison. So you went along with the men, unsure of what exactly it was that you were heading towards.
You were dragged through the large archway that led into the temple, finding yourself in an entryway of sorts, the walls bare except for the usual deathly white branches that wound their way up the walls. The room you were in was small and led to another room farther in, although all you could see in the room ahead of you was what looked to be the beginnings of a staircase.
When you arrived at the entrance to the next room, the men let go of you at last, tossing you into the room. You landed roughly on the floor, turning back to glare at the men who now stood in the way, blocking the exit. You were calculating your next move, but a call of your name from behind you stopped you in your tracks.
You turned slowly around, and were unable to believe your eyes. The room was large, the walls tall and gray, with branches hanging from the ceiling. The central focus in the room was a short staircase that led up to an ornate chair. The tops of the stairs were decorated with simple bowls on either side that burned brightly with fire. As ominous as the room was, it could not compare with the terror you felt as your attention was drawn to the figure that sat on the throne, staring smugly down at you.
“Master Kusho…?” you questioned, unable to keep the shock you felt out of your voice.
The man before you looked much older than you remembered him as and carried a sinister aura that wasn’t there before, but you had no doubt that you stood before Shen’s father and former leader of the Kinkou. You stared in disbelief as you tried to make sense of what you were looking at; Master Kusho was alive, there was no doubt of that. But how was this possible?
“But you died…” you stammered with incredulity.
Kusho looked unimpressed as he levelled a haughty look your way. “The dull question of a nobody. It is a wonder any master took you on.”
You bristled at the insult, still too in shock to form the words for a reply. You had presumed him dead, killed by Zed so long ago, only to find out that he was alive, and appeared to be the head of the Navori Brotherhood. But that meant…
“Why did you free Jhin?” you questioned angrily. “You were the head of the Kinkou… I thought you cared about Ionia!”
“You misunderstand,” Kusho sneered. “It is because I care for Ionia that I command the Navori Brotherhood now.”
“You care for power, not Ionia!” you yelled back at him, your anger building up as you stared at him, not seeing any hint of remorse in his smug visage.
“Power is what is required to unify Ionia,” Kusho replied dismissively. “If you are looking for someone to blame, then look to your precious Usan.”
Your breath hitched at the mention of Zed, and it did not go unnoticed by the man before you as his patronizing grin only grew wider at your plight. As you glared at him, your eyes were drawn to either side of his chair, where two tall, imposing statues of Kusho himself sat, almost looking as if they were also looking down on you with their stone eyes. You never could have imagined that the proud, pious Master Kusho could turn into the cruel, vicious man before you.
“Zed convinced me to fake my death, that day in Thanjuul. Then we were free to use the forbidden magics of the Kinkou, and the Kinkou could remain pure in its mission.”
He was explaining the events like it was a reasonable decision, like it was a decision that was easy for you to understand. But he was acting like the Kinkou was some unrelated party to him, and that pissed you off.
“And what about Shen? He thinks that his father is dead!” you retorted.
“Shen’s father is dead,” Kusho replied coldly. “He was never strong enough to be my son in the first place.”
How could he say that? Shen was still struggling with his father’s death, even all these years later, while Kusho didn’t even care. Your heart hurt for Shen; his father had deceived him without batting an eye, all in the name of power. And clearly Kusho wasn’t the only deceiver, nor the one who had come up with the idea to fake his death in the first place; that honor rested solely with Zed.
“But he never…” you trailed off, unable to stomach the fresh waves of betrayal that washed over you.
Kusho seemed to know where your thoughts were heading as he snorted smugly. “That fool swore to me on his honor that he would not reveal our deception. And it seems that Zed values his honor above you and Shen both. A pity.”
And here you thought that you had finally begun to get closer to Zed again. But all that time, he held this secret close to his chest. Every time you had confronted him about killing Kusho, he hadn’t denied it, continuing to let you believe the lie. And now that you knew what had become of Kusho, you weren’t convinced that everyone wouldn’t have been better off if he had actually died that day.
But even through the hurt you felt, you realized that he hadn’t properly answered the question that had brought you here.
You dared to step closer to the raised platform, and Kusho didn’t so much as flinch from his position atop his throne. “Why did you free Jhin?”
Kusho stood up at last, and with a quick hand motion, you were grabbed from behind by the men who had been at the door. You struggled, but your daggers had been taken from you in the previous fight, so you were left with few options and forced to watch Kusho move about the room.
He approached a short pillar that sat just behind his chair, picking up a small blue box that had sat there. Holding the box as if it was a treasure, he began to descend the stairs, walking towards you.
You thought that he had looked bad from his throne, but he looked even worse up close. He was thin, thinner than he had ever been before, the skin of his face stretched almost too thinly over his face. His eyes were a chilling shade of gray, the whites of his eyes now black, which you could only assume was a product of the forbidden shadow magic he had obviously consumed.
He came to a stop a few feet from you, the swirling black liquid in the box he held unnerving you. “Without the war, the people forget that they must be afraid. To unite Ionia under my rule, I must give this land something to fear.”
You couldn’t hold your tongue. “Jhin destroyed the entire port of Nanthee! Hundreds lost their lives for your twisted plans!”
“The lives of peasants do not concern me, and the people believe that Nanthee was destroyed by foreign foes. Just a few more attacks on the larger cities and then all of Ionia will bow to my leadership,” Kusho explained remorselessly.
“You would kill Ionia to unite it?” you replied lowly. “You’re sick. Truly sick.”
“You may yet see things from my point of view,” he said, not looking at you, but instead at his men. “Hold her still.”
A third man approached you, and for some reason stood just off to the side, allowing Kusho the room to stand before you.
“Zed is making his way here as we speak, and I have no use for a disobedient apprentice,” Kusho stated disdainfully, while your heart soared at the news that Zed was on his way. “You should never have come here. But now that you have, I will take the opportunity to break you.”
You couldn’t ask for clarification as the man that was on standby grabbed your face with both hands, forcing your jaw open as Kusho and his unsettling box got closer. You began to panic as Kusho started to tilt the box towards your open mouth, but try as you did, you were locked in place.
“We will see how you handle the magic of the ancients,” Kusho said cruelly. “I may have you replace Zed after I kill him… if you live.”
With that, Kusho began to pour the thick, repulsive black liquid down your throat. It looked like ink, and the taste burned your throat as you tried desperately to spit it out. Unfortunately, the men had no intention of letting you spill the liquid magic, as your mouth was forcibly closed, your throat pressed on until you were forced to swallow the unpalatable substance.
Immediately, the men let you go and you fell to the floor, your whole body burning with the worst pain you had ever felt. You wanted to try and throw up the liquid, but your strength was rapidly leaving you as your body began to convulse, your grip on consciousness weakening more and more by the second.
“Leave us,” you heard Kusho instruct his men. “I will handle Zed alone.”
You wanted to fight, to try and warn Zed of what he was walking into, but you found that you didn’t even have the strength to hold onto consciousness anymore as you felt your world fall into painful darkness.
If he was being honest, Zed would have promised you anything in that moment to get you to kiss him. While you had been friends for a long time in your youth, Zed had always had a hard time trying to decipher how you truly felt about him. When he had kissed you and been rejected, he had closed himself off to the possibility that you had any interest in being with him.
When he had left the Kinkou that day, he was too blinded by anger to pay much attention to how much he was hurting you. Thinking back on it, he felt like such an idiot. You had finally become a Kinkou apprentice, the thing you had wanted all your life, and he had abandoned you right after you told him. At the time, your announcement had stung him, a bitter reminder that even you were on the side of the Kinkou, and not him.
He was too young and foolish at the time to understand that you had not seen the horrors that he had. All you had known was the Kinkou base in Thanjuul, so it wasn’t fair of him to expect you to understand the negatives of the Kinkou doctrine like he did when you had never been given the opportunity to do so.
In the year he was gone, he wanted he see you, to send a letter, but he couldn’t bring himself to do either. He tried to justify his inaction with how busy he had been forming his shadow order and fighting against the Noxian invaders, but he couldn’t fool himself with his own excuses. Beyond his guise of being too busy, he knew that he was trying to hide the truth; that he thought that he didn’t deserve to see you after what he had done to you.
The war efforts were a good distraction, but not good enough to keep his thoughts entirely away from you. He had a full year to live with his regrets as he continued to stay away, at least until that day at the temple. He could not beat Noxus without the Kinkou’s box of ancient shadow magic, that much was obvious. And he would do whatever he had to do in order to get it.
That day, Kusho had followed him down into the catacombs of the temple, intent on convincing his former student to return to the Kinkou, but Zed was intent on the opposite. If Kusho were to fake his death and assume control of the Navori Brotherhood, then the Kinkou could still remain balanced, and Zed would be free to take the Tears of the Shadow with Kusho’s blessing. Zed knew that he was making himself an enemy of the Kinkou with his actions, but he would do anything to save Ionia, even if you and Shen believed that he had killed Master Kusho. After all, he had already done so much to hurt you, what was one more betrayal on top of the others?
He believed that he was doing the right thing, destroying any hope of a relationship with his former friends in order to protect Ionia. He was firm in his decision, and was staring out at the chaos of the temple, about to turn and leave the scene when he caught sight of you.
You looked weary, which was understandable given the trauma that Zed had inadvertently caused you. He was expecting you to walk back down to the monastery, but was surprised when you turned and began to make your way into the trees. The scene was so familiar to him that it spurned his feet into motion as he headed into the forest as well. Maybe it had been simple nostalgia that had him following you to the spot where you had trained together so many times, but Zed didn’t stop to question his own motives.
Zed knew that he had been too selfish, thinking that he could have the shadow magic in his grasp and you by his side. He had been desperate and stupid, thinking that his kiss could make you want to leave with him that day. As much as it hurt to have you believe he had killed his former master, he could not break his promise to Kusho. To get the power he needed, he would have to let you go.
In the ten years it had been since he had seen you, he was never fully able to keep you out of his mind. He wondered where you were, what you were doing, and in darker times, wondering if you had survived the war with Noxus at all. His shadow order, the Yanléi, had only grown in numbers, and he certainly had the power and influence to discover your whereabouts, alive or dead, but he never did.
Part of him wanted to bite the bullet and do whatever he had to do to find you and make sure that you were alive, if only for his own peace of mind. But if you were alive, then that invited many other concerns that he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about.
It was not against Kinkou doctrine for members of the Order to marry or have children. Children of the Kinkou usually went on to become Kinkou themselves, just as had been the case with Shen. Just as quickly as he allowed himself to think he may see you again, the excitement turned sour in his stomach as he pictured you with a husband and child, and then his curiosity all but abandoned him.
You weren’t his, it had been made quite clear to him the last time he had seen you that you didn’t want to be with him. It had been ten years; it was pitiful for him to be so concerned about where you were in life. He should just have been happy enough to know that you were alive, anything more than that wasn’t his concern.
He had almost convinced himself that you would remain out of his reach until that night on the bridge. He had been tailing Shen as his former friend investigated leads into Jhin’s whereabouts, and had been watching Shen’s former student dangle a man from a bridge when a figure began to approach the scene. What looked to Zed to be a monotonous exchange quickly attracted his attention when the stranger stepped into the light of the moon, revealing a face that he hadn’t seen since that moment in the forest ten years prior.
It was hard for him to believe that he had found you again, even days later in the market in Kotha as he watched your group question merchants. He had kept his focus on Shen, and that had been his downfall as you had cornered him in an alleyway, assumedly mistaking him for a spy.
In that short interaction, he was able to see just how much you had changed since he had last seen you. You were more confident than you ever had been, and he had found himself impressed that you had managed to trick him into believing that you were a simple courtesan when you had pushed him into the alleyway. When you had stormed out of the alley, frustrated with him, he couldn’t bring himself to follow after you.
The next few days, he found his eyes drawn to you, though he couldn’t bring himself to reveal himself and approach you. It wasn’t unthinkable that you would be helping Shen track down Jhin, but he was still surprised to see you. It almost felt like rubbing salt in his wounds to see that you were still as pretty as you had always been, and still as uninterested in him as ever. He supposed that this was his punishment for his deceptions, being stuck so close to his former friends while knowing they despised him.
He had been standing close by as you and Shen entered the elder’s residence to deal with the likely-grotesque bodies of Jhin’s victims. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get any closer, Zed busied himself with looking around the small port town for any signs of Jhin. As he walked around town, he began to notice something odd; along with the simple paper lanterns that were strung up on wires around the town, there were also large crimson lanterns that struck a sinister chord of familiarity within him.
Quickly climbing onto a nearby roof, he pulled one of the bulky lanterns towards him, pulling the top off to look inside. It was with a spark of irritation as Zed confirmed his suspicions; the lantern was a bomb. And there were hundreds of identical ones strung up all over the town.
Abandoning the lantern, Zed made his way to higher ground, scaling a higher rooftop as his eyes began to search the crowd. If the whole town was wired to explode, then there was no doubt that Jhin would have to be here somewhere. The lanterns were not just a flashy display; Jhin was testing the limits of what he could do, and likely intended to use the chaos to cover his escape. The lanterns lined every street, leading up to a docked boat at the end of the wooden dock.
Before Zed could consider a plan of attack, his gaze was drawn to a single figure in the crowd. An unremarkable figure in the eyes of the people milling about the street, but not in Zed’s eyes. It was Jhin, he was certain of it; his suspicions confirmed as he realized the man was staring back at him.
Without a thought to anything else, Zed dove down, shedding his disguise as he chased after Jhin, who had fled the moment that Zed had given chase. As he used his shadow dash to try and close the gap, he heard Shen’s voice behind him as his former friend angrily chased after him.
Zed tried to warn Shen about the bombs as he kept on Jhin’s tail, but his warnings fell on deaf ears; Shen was too distracted by his anger to stop and listen to Zed’s words. As they reached the end of the dock, their time ran out. Jhin gleefully proclaimed his victory as he boarded the departing ship, and then Zed realized he was exactly where Jhin wanted him to be.
The spark had been ignited, and explosions rang out as the lanterns began to detonate. Watching the town become engulfed in explosive blasts snapped Zed’s focus back to his own situation. The lanterns lined the entire dock, including the section above his and Shen’s heads. Without giving it a second thought, Zed threw himself at Shen, sending them both into the water below as colorful explosions detonated over their heads.
The ship that Jhin was on had set sail as the explosions decimated the town, and while it was slowly getting farther away, Zed knew it was still within range of his shadow step. If he used it now, he could catch up to Jhin and take him out like he desperately wanted to. But as he swam in place, he realized that Shen had yet to crest the surface of the water, so he instead dove under the water to grab his sinking friend, pulling him back with him onto the beach. Jhin had gotten away, but he wasn’t willing to let Shen die just to catch the golden demon.
As Zed watched the boat get farther and farther away, Shen rose, spirit blade in hand and ready to strike. The destruction around them; this was why he and Shen needed to work together. They would never catch Jhin working apart like this.
But once again, Zed’s words would fall on deaf ears. Shen was too angry as he insisted that the town had only been destroyed because Zed was there to be Jhin’s audience. Zed had tried to make Shen think about who Jhin was working for, hoping that his friend would seek out the truth that Zed’s honor bound him to conceal, but Shen would hear none of it.
As they fought, Zed thought of another option. They needed to work together, that was an absolute fact. But Shen was stubborn and bitter, though not without cause. His last chance to get Shen’s cooperation was to put the power in Shen’s hands. So as they fought, Zed put less effort into his strikes, and took more hits. As Shen’s last blow sent him into unconsciousness, Zed hoped that his capture would be the final push Shen needed to agree to join forces with him to take down Jhin.
Zed wasn’t surprised to wake up in a wooden cart, strung up by his wrists and shirtless. It wasn’t comfortable, but he had been in worse situations. Shen had been thorough; Zed could immediately feel that his connection to the shadows had been blocked by the paper talismans that had been pasted all over his wooden prison.
His mind could only be so occupied by Jhin before thoughts of you crept up. You had undoubtedly been in the town when it had exploded, but he didn’t consider for one second that you hadn’t made it out. The skill he had seen you demonstrate before told him all he needed to know about your capabilities. Then the question on his mind became whether or not you would visit him in his cell.
Your conversation from a few days prior had ended on a decidedly unfinished note, and while Zed wanted the opportunity to speak with you again, he wasn’t sure if or when that chance would come. He had only spoke with you for a moment, so he had no real way of knowing just how much your personality had changed since he had last seen you.
It was well into the night by the time you had finally come to see him. He was surprised when instead of saying anything, you had offered him your water, which he couldn’t refuse with how dry his throat felt. He tried to search your face for any insights on how you were feeling, but your face had remained stubbornly neutral. However, that hadn’t lasted long.
It was another bitter pain in his chest to discover that you hadn’t been Kinkou in a long time, but you still had no interest in being at his side. You had freely aired all your grievances with him, while he couldn’t muster any words in his defence. And why should he? Everything you said was indisputable; he knew he had let you down several times over, but hearing it from your lips made the sting of his past actions even more potent.
When you left, the air felt sour with regret. Zed sighed as he tried in vain to position himself so his arms would ache a little less. Your anger with him was justified, but even though he knew it was unlikely, he couldn’t help but find himself wanting to see your smile again, to talk with you like you used to when you were both younger.
You had come to see him again the next afternoon, and Zed found himself almost stunned by your change in demeanor. When he had expected more anger and hatred, you had given him a taste of how the two of you had been many years before. Zed found his guard lowering at last, at least until you announced your intentions to seek out the person who had freed Jhin from his cage.
He had been trying fruitlessly to lead Shen down that path, as then the truth could be uncovered without breaking his promise to Kusho, but he hadn’t anticipated you taking up the cause in Shen’s stead. He knew very well what lay at the end of your quest, but honor bound his tongue. Kusho was not a weak man in terms of both power and resources, and would spare no cost to maintain his rule over the brotherhood, as well as his closely-guarded secrets.
Zed himself intended to seek out Kusho after Jhin was captured, with or without Shen, but even with the skill you possessed, Zed was concerned. He knew Jhin was first priority, so he forced away any thoughts of abandoning his current cause to stay by your side, but that didn’t mean he felt good about letting you go down this road alone.
He found himself all too willing to agree to your request, and not just to get you to kiss him. He hadn’t thought that he would hear you ask him to come find you once this was all over, and even knowing that he was not the caliber of man that deserved your company, he had agreed. He had made the promise to you, and then you had kissed him. He had no choice but to watch as you left, the chains on his wrists feeling even more restrictive as they stopped him from pulling you back to him when all he wanted to do was kiss you just a bit longer.
Shen came soon after you had left, and the atmosphere in the small wooden room turned serious as talks turned to Jhin. But nothing was ever easy with the two former friends; Jhin needed to die, or else there would be a risk of this happening again. The only way Ionia could be safe was if the barely-human monster was somewhere that he couldn’t escape from, and death was a box that Zed was eager to put him in.
But Shen didn’t agree. The only way that they would work together would be if Zed agreed to capture Jhin alive. He was not Kinkou, and he didn’t agree with Shen’s pacifism, but he had no choice but to agree to Shen’s demands, because with the chains on his wrists and the magic-binding talismans surrounding him, he had no way to escape of his own power.
They were to set off to Piltover immediately, on the trail of not only Jhin, but Shen’s former apprentice, who was most likely rushing headfirst into danger beyond what she could imagine. When they arrived in Piltover, the first merchant Zed had asked had admitted to seeing Akali arrive a month prior, so they would have to work fast.
As they begun to follow Akali’s tracks, Zed tried again to entice Shen into investigating the person who had released Jhin and continued to fund his terrorism, but to no avail. He had pushed too hard on the subject, and Shen had become suspicious, accusing him of revealing Jhin’s location to someone. Zed had no choice but to drop the matter; no matter how much he wanted his friend to learn the truth, he could not force him on that path, and he could not tell him the truth himself and break his oath to Kusho.
Jhin’s trail led them to Piltover’s theatre district; it was only natural that someone as dramatic as Jhin insisted upon a literal stage as his battleground. Zed and Shen dashed down the isle of an empty, abandoned theatre, breaking through a window and finding themselves exactly where they needed to be.
They were high above Piltover, landing on an abandoned train track that now looked like something out of a nightmare. Gnarled trees sat atop monstrous works of machinery, each equipped with drills for arms and outfitted with several rocket launchers. Clearly a lot of work had gone into the planning of this scene; Jhin never did things half-heartedly, not when it concerned his art.
Jhin himself sat on an old mining cart, rifle in one hand as he stared in the direction of the two men. Hanging from one of the trees behind the golden demon was Akali, her wrists bound by rope that was tied to a thick branch of the tree. Zed couldn’t tell if Akali was conscious or not, but she seemed to be unharmed, at least for now.
Shen wasted no time, diving at Jhin with his divine blade despite Zed’s warning that this was clearly a trap. Zed readied himself for the likely fight to come as he watched Shen tear into Jhin, who burst into cogs and wires. A mechanical dummy dressed as its creator.
As Shen discovered the ruse, the sky lit up with explosions of color as Jhin descended from the sky on a raised platform, mechanical arms in the shape of opening flowers lowering at his side. Zed slinked in the shadows as Jhin began to taunt Shen, alluding to the great secret that Shen had yet to figure out for himself.
As Jhin aimed his pistol at Akali’s face, Zed struck, tossing a large shuriken out as Shen leaped up to cut the supports on Jhin’s platform. The flower-like metal appendages struck out, one pinning Zed to one of a tree as another knocked Shen to the ground. In his usual overconfidence, Jhin had dodged Zed’s shuriken as he made his way to Shen’s prone figure, gun at the ready. But Jhin had failed to account for one thing… Zed’s shuriken hadn’t been aimed at him.
Akali, her ropes cut free by the shuriken, charged at the masked killer, landing a strong punch to the surprised Jhin. Grabbing his gun, she knocked him down and took aim, only stopped by Shen’s shout. Where Akali backed off, Zed quickly took her place in front of the crazed artist, the hidden blade in his gauntlet raised high.
Zed demanded that Jhin tell them now he escaped his prison, who had freed him. Even if he could not tell Shen himself, he could still force the truth out of Jhin’s mouth.
But Zed’s last selfish attempt to have his old friend learn the truth regarding his father was doomed to fail. Jhin remained coy as he plainly refused to state who had freed him, clearly taking pleasure in denying Zed the information he desperately wanted Shen to hear.
“Think of it this way, Zed,” the artist spoke calmly. “I was set free, but now that means you’re free too.”
Zed’s frustration boiled over as he tossed Jhin to the ground at Shen’s feet. As irritated as it made him to admit, Jhin was right. By freeing Jhin, Kusho had shown Zed that he was no longer worthy of his loyalty. He knew that Kusho was ambitious, but Ionia would be recovering from Jhin’s antics for years to come, all for Kusho’s cruel need to gain more power. He would have to end this now, this confrontation had been coming for some time. Zed dove from the bridge, leaving Shen and Akali to deal with Jhin as he began his journey back to brotherhood headquarters in Zhyun.
As he approached the base camp of the Navori Brotherhood, Zed reflected harshly on his own decisions. He had gotten to where he was now by lying and betraying those closest to him. Shen’s friendship was out of his reach, and he could only blame himself. He deserved to have Shen believe that he had killed Kusho as a punishment for his selfishness. He still had a hard time believing that you wanted to see him, considering you were still under the belief that he had killed Kusho as well.
He didn’t see any sign of you as he snuck around the camp and began to scale the rocky mountain face that would take him to Kusho’s throne room. He could only hope that you hadn’t found your way to this place; you would remain ignorant of the truth, but you would be safe. Kusho was dangerous, but Zed did not go into fights that he knew he couldn’t win. He would kill Kusho, and then he would try to keep his promise to you, as much as he felt that he didn’t deserve your company or your kindness.
Zed climbed over the ledge, walking the familiar path to the stony temple that Kusho was usually found in. As he stepped into the temple, it felt like this part of his life, the part where he had been bound to the brotherhood, was coming to an end. He owed a lot to Kusho, but not enough to look the other way when his former master released mass murderers on Ionia in order to bend the people to his will. Zed had taken the shadow ichor to save Ionia, but Kusho had allowed himself to be corrupted by the draw of its power. It was probably for the best that Shen wasn’t by his side, remaining unburdened by the truth regarding his father.
“You may have evaded my army, but you cannot hide your presence from me, Zed,” Kusho spoke from his place atop his throne, eyes dark and sinister, no trace of the humanity he used to possess residing within their depths. Zed’s apprentice, Kayn, sat on the steps below Kusho, watching the situation unfold silently. “You did not tell Shen of our deception.”
“I gave you my word on my honor, Lord Kusho,” Zed answered, feeling dissatisfied.
“But you were trying to get Shen to investigate into who released Jhin?” Kusho pressed, which Zed could not deny. “And now you plan to call me a fiend? To tell me that I made the wrong decision when I released Jhin?”
Zed felt his anger rising at Kusho’s total lack of care for the loss of human life he had facilitated, for the potential loss of his own life, as well as Shen’s. Kusho was truly human in form only, his heart warped and black with his hunger for power.
“Jhin reduced Nanthee to ashes!” Zed shouted. “He tried to kill me, to kill your own son! If you intended to betray me, there are others assassins you could have chosen!”
Kusho waved a hand dismissively. “You were more my son than Shen ever was.”
“You were supposed to keep Ionia safe from the shadows,” Zed argued. “Not let our people die for your ambitions!”
Kusho stood up, looking down at Zed from beside one of the statues of himself. “Ionia forgets the horrors of war. They forget that they need my protection. I am simply reminding them of what fear tastes like. The word has already spread of the attack on Nanthee. A few more attacks and nobody will question my will.”
“I chose this path to do what I could not in the Kinkou!” Zed said as he thought of all he had lost to give himself to the shadows. You and Shen had been lost to him for so long, only for Kusho to betray what he thought had been their shared ideals for protecting Ionia. “By taking a life, I could save many more. But you do not place value on the lives of innocents any longer.”
“Nobodies and peasants will bow to me or they do not deserve my protection,” Kusho asserted haughtily.
“I was once a peasant and a nobody,” Zed argued, and Kusho only cackled cruelly in response.
“And you do not bend to my will, so you must be replaced,” Kusho sneered, turning his focus to the raven-haired young man that had continued to sit by silently. “Kayn, kill Zed and become the new master of the shadows.”
Kayn slowly stood up, large scythe in hand. Zed stood still, observing his friend and apprentice as dark shadows swirled around his form. Zed did not move to take a defensive stance as Kayn began to descend the stairs and approach him. He knew that there were many things that could happen in the next moment, but he chose to keep his faith in Kayn and remain still.
“Many of our order wait outside,” Kayn drawled darkly. “They have no loyalty to you, and intend to serve me and Lord Kusho. They have no honor…”
As Kayn spoke, he turned, standing at Zed’s side and smirking up at Kusho, his scythe held proudly at his side. In that moment, Zed knew his faith was not misplaced, not this time.
“…but I know who my master is. And he taught me honor,” Kayn finished, turning to address Zed directly. “What should I do about the traitors to our Order that wait outside?”
“Kill them,” Zed said simply, and that was all that Kayn needed to hear.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” Kayn replied, leaving the room as Zed prepared himself for the fight to come, staring down Kusho as he would a corrupted nature spirit that needed to be put down.
“Your student is more obedient than mine ever were,” Kusho growled darkly as he ripped off his top, exposing the dark tattoos crafted from shadow magic that covered his torso and arms. “But thankfully, I have one other promising apprentice.”
Kusho reached a hand over to a short string, pulling it down as Zed watched, unsure of where this was heading. The pulled string caused a curtain at the back of the room to raise, a curtain that Zed couldn’t recall seeing on any of his previous visits to this place. And as the curtain rose, he immediately knew why that was.
Your prone body laid in the far corner of the room, and it was immediately obvious to Zed what had happened to you. You were unmoving, dark shadows swirling around your body as jet black veins ran along any patch of exposed skin Zed could see, large vine-like veins of shadow crawling up your cheeks and over your eyes. You had to be alive; the shadows would have abandoned your form otherwise as the shadows had no interest in the dead. But from what he could tell, you were close to death’s door, the shadow ichor clearly too much for your body to handle.
Kusho stared down at your dying form with visible smugness. “Did I give her too much? I have no need of an apprentice that can’t handle that much of the shadow ichor.”
“You…” Zed growled. It wasn’t too late to save you, to purge the shadows from your body, but he knew that if he went to you, Kusho would strike him down, and then you were both dead. He would have to go through Kusho to get to you, and if Kusho’s cruel laughter was anything to go by, he was very aware of Zed’s predicament.
“You left her behind all those years ago, but now she’ll have the shadows for company… if she survives,” Kusho sneered, raising the box of shadow ichor to his own mouth and taking a long drink of it.
Immediately, the sheer amount of shadow magic in his body reacted with the excess ichor he was consuming and Kusho’s pale skin turned a sickly blue-gray as four wing-like appendages burst out of his back. Kusho didn’t waste a second more, opening his mouth and spewing out a rush of shadow magic that Zed quickly jumped to the side to dodge. If Zed had any doubts of his former master’s remaining humanity, they had all been answered as he gazed at the monster before him. He would have to make this quick if he had any hope of saving your life.
“You were a weakling,” Kusho growled as he sent more shadow blasts at Zed. “So desperate for approval. You even cried when I gave you the name Usan.”
“You used me!” Zed retorted as he dove out of the path of Kusho’s shadow tendrils, only to find himself surrounded by faces that were all too familiar.
Figures made of Kusho’s shadows surrounded him, bringing him back to the moments that Kusho sought to portray on the faces of Zed’s memories. His mother’s crying face when she came to the temple all those years ago to beg him to come home, Shen’s stern face when he had seen Zed not as a friend, but as his father’s killer, and right in front of him was you, ten years younger than you were now, your expression twisted with despair. The face you had made the day he had told you he was leaving the Kinkou. Your sad, disappointed gaze stuck on him, guilt twisting his insides as he continued to evade Kusho’s attacks.
He sliced through the shadow figures that surrounded him with his hidden blades, the images dissipating into the air. The image of your face did not weaken Zed as Kusho had likely assumed it would; it had only reminded him of just what he was fighting for. You, the real you, depended on him right now as you desperately clung to life. If there was any time to make up for his past mistakes with you, it was now.
“She wanted to be with you, and you could have had her,” Kusho stated in mocking concern. “But you chose to kill and deceive, because you wanted power, just like I want it. You cannot escape your true desires, Zed.”
Zed continued to evade Kusho’s dramatic attacks, emboldening his former master further. “Why have you not attacked me, Zed?” Kusho questioned arrogantly. “Your pitiful honor will not allow you to strike me?”
Zed had been biding his time, waiting patiently as Kusho flashily displayed his powers, but with every move, Kusho’s weakness became clearer. Hardening his resolve, Zed summoned his own shadow clones at last, copies of himself appearing all around the shadow beast that was Kusho.
“Your powers are weakening already,” Zed stated plainly. “You have had these powers for months, but I have spent many years mastering the shadows.”
Kusho caught on to Zed’s assertion with an angered howl, but Zed did not falter.
“I wanted this power, so I let you use me. But you are not my master any longer, and you are not my equal. You should have never thought that you could hope to match me.”
As he finished speaking, Zed dove forward, his numerous shadow clones doing the same as Kusho’s corrupted flesh was pierced from every direction. As he struck the killing blow, Zed was very aware that this was it. He was free of Kusho’s will, but he had also become guilty of the crime that Shen had always believed that he had committed. Any last hopes of reconciliation between them died as Kusho’s body hit the floor, now just looking like a frail old man as the shadows left him.
He could mourn Kusho later; he had a much more pressing issue at the moment. Zed sprinted over to you, noting with bitterness that you looked even worse than you had minutes ago. Your skin was turning black as shadow, and your body felt cold under his touch. He would need to act fast.
Zed began to press down on your chest before pressing his mouth to yours to give you air. He desperately repeated the process for almost a minute before he saw any results. You began to sputter, barely conscious, and he held your body on your side as you began to throw up the inky black shadow magic you had been forced to ingest. As more of the ichor splattered on the floor, the shadows on your skin began to recede as color returned to your skin. At last, you passed out again, exhausted by the ordeal, but alive.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Zed wiped your mouth and chin with a ripped portion of the curtain before gently picking you up in his arms. He spared a glance towards the downed Kusho as he headed to the doorway, but was silent as he passed. The temple lit up in flames as Zed exited, likely a tactic of Kusho’s upon his death.
Kayn was waiting diligently for his master, corpses littering the ground around him. As soon as he saw Zed with you in his arms, Kayn stood up, approaching his master.
“I took out the ones out here, but thousands more are on their way,” Kayn told him before his gaze dropped down to look at you. “Is she okay?”
Zed looked down at you as well; your skin looked better than it had, but he knew that he couldn’t have gotten all of the shadow ichor out of your body. It would be up to you to pull through now, but he knew that he had to get you to safety before he could assess you further.
“She took in a lot of the shadows,” Zed answered simply. “But she’s breathing.”
Kayn frowned, looking torn. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop Kusho. You’d never mentioned her to me so I didn’t know she was important to you.”
Zed shook his head as the two men began their descent from the mountain. “You had no way of knowing. And if you had tried to stop him, Kusho would have seen through our deception.”
Kayn scoffed in annoyance. “That jackass really thought I intended to turn on you.”
“You could have,” Zed admitted. He had told Kayn to get close to Kusho in his stead, knowing that Kusho intended to betray him and take members of his shadow order to do so. Zed trusted Kayn more than any other within his order, but he also knew what the allure of power could make people do.
Kayn did not share Zed’s doubts, looking almost offended by the idea that he could ever betray his master. “You found me when I had been left to die. If you hadn’t taken me in, I would have had nothing. My loyalty and respect is earned, not bought by old fools with undeserved pride.”
Zed quietly considered Kayn’s words as the two walked down the steps that would lead them away from this place forever. They were truly against everyone now, so Kayn’s loyalty was needed now more than ever. The Kinkou, the Brotherhood, and the traitors to his order… they would all be out for his blood now. And now he had brought you into that danger with him. He doubted that you fully understood the danger you put yourself in by associating with him, the danger that would continue to plague you if you stayed by his side.
He sighed to himself. He would have to tell you everything when you woke up, he owed you that much. As much as he wanted you by his side, you deserved the right to make that choice after knowing the full situation. Even if it meant losing you again, Zed would not lie to you. But that would come later; first he had to get you somewhere safe if you had a chance at recovering from the ordeal you had suffered at Kusho’s hands.
You couldn’t breathe. The shadows filled your lungs, your throat… everywhere you had feeling in felt constricted with pain. Your surroundings all faded away, and it was getting hard to even think. The shadows crawled all over you, covering your eyes and ears. They removed all of your senses, demanding all of your attention.
You had no experience with shadow magic; the Kinkou magic you knew was no help in the face of the ancient dark magic. Eventually, your magic stopped responding to your calls as shadowy tendrils slithered over your face, pulsating in a rhythm that was beyond your understanding. You felt lost, unsure if you were conscious or not as you sunk further into the deep, inescapable darkness.
You felt like you were drowning with no way out when there was a sudden pressure on your chest. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but it shocked you out of the void you had been tumbling into. In the back of your mind, you realized that someone was by your side. You barely remembered where you were through the pain, leaving you no room to think about who had come to your side.
Your body was moved, leaving you feeling dizzy and nauseated, a familiar feeling in your throat pushing you to open your mouth as you began to retch. The ichor that had tasted awful going down somehow tasted even worse coming back up. Your throat burned from the effort as well as with the lingering effects of the shadow magic. After what felt like forever, your retching stopped. You still felt sick, but you didn’t feel like you were dying.
The shadows that had engulfed you began to recede at last, leaving your body feeling much less restrained. It was a great relief to feel your senses return to you at last, your world expanding out again as you were freed from the captive darkness. The shadows had fled from around your eyes, but you found that you lacked the energy to open them. You wanted to know what had happened and who had saved you, but you couldn’t find the strength, no matter how hard you tried. You wanted to stay awake, but it was no longer within your power to decide that for yourself. You were exhausted, physically and mentally, and you could put off unconsciousness no longer.
Before you were fully awake, your brain began to register the scene around you. You could hear birds chirping and feel a gentle breeze on your skin. You opened your eyes with a short yawn, reaching a hand up to cover your mouth as you surveyed your surroundings.
Your eyes went wide as you noticed just what it was that you had been resting on. Your head had been laying against soft black cloth, and upon opening your eyes, you found Zed’s face just above your own, his eyes closed in sleep. You found yourself staring at his face; the calm expression he carried in sleep was so foreign to how he was when he was awake.
Seeing his face reminded you of just how long it had been since that day where you had kissed him. The black eye Shen had given him had healed, and he looked a lot more at peace than you had ever seen him. As you shifted against him, you realized that he had one arm around you, his hand resting on your hip. Closing your eyes again, you allowed yourself to cuddle against Zed for a few minutes more before your nose couldn’t take it anymore. You weren’t sure how long you had been unconscious for, but the shadow ichor had done you no favors in the smell department.
You slowly began to remove yourself from Zed’s arms, not wanting to wake him up. Looking around, you found that you seemed to be in some sort of small clearing that was surrounded by trees. Zed had been leaning against a tree that bordered the clearing, but other than the two of you, you could see nobody else around. You would have to ask him what had happened when he woke up, but for now, you had bigger priorities.
Looking down at yourself, you grimaced. Your clothing was dirty, covered in dust and a too-hard black residue that must have been dried shadow ichor. Beyond that, your hair felt greasy and tangled.
You realized that you could faintly hear water nearby, and the opportunity was too tempting for you to pass up. You wouldn’t be long; it wouldn’t take too much time to go wash yourself and your clothes off. You didn’t want to wake Zed up anyways; given he had likely rescued you from Kusho, he deserved the rest. You could ask him what happened when he woke up.
Walking through the trees, you were relieved to find a small river that was deep enough to bathe in. Making your way to the water, you happily disrobed, eager to have a chance to feel clean again after all you had been through. The water wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t freezing, which was good enough for your current purpose.
Quickly stripping, you began to wash off your clothes first. The dirt and grass stains came out easy enough, but the shadow ichor was another story. You were able to lighten the dark stains with a lot of scrubbing, but it became clear to you that the ancient magic stains were not going anywhere. It was a shame; you had really liked that top, but you didn’t really want to walk around with the reminder of your ordeal staining your clothing.
After getting your clothing as clean as it could be with your current resources, you hung them up neatly on a tree branch before lowering yourself into the water. Despite its lack of warmth, the water felt heavenly on your grimy skin as you ducked under the water to clean your hair as well. You scrubbed at the patches of dirt on your skin, happy to watch the flecks of grime dissipate into the water.
It couldn’t have been that long since you had been at Kusho’s mercy, but it felt like the calm water was taking years of stress away from you. Then again, it could also be your reunion with Zed that was driving your mood up, especially after discovering that he hadn’t killed Master Kusho all those years ago. After all these years, you finally felt like you had gotten back the thing that had left you feeling like you were missing something.
While you wished that he had told you the truth, you understood why he hadn’t. But going forward, you hoped your relationship could become as close as it had once been again. Knowing Zed, he would require more persuasion with how much of a recluse he had been for so long. But he was clearly amicable to your kisses, and you slyly noted that you wouldn’t mind employing that particular tactic again. It wasn’t hard to admit to yourself that you weren’t satisfied just being his old friend like you had in the past.
As you were contemplating how to go about your plans to approach Zed, your quiet bath was interrupted by the sound of footsteps dashing across the grass. Standing up, you raised an arm to cover your breasts as you turned to face the intruder.
The footsteps stopped as you turned and saw Zed, whose concerned look morphed quickly into surprise as he took in your naked form. It looked like he had been searching around for you; you noted that the desperate look on his face was rather cute. And now that he was here, and you were already naked, the situation you had been hoping for had been dropped right in your lap, and you weren’t willing to let the opportunity pass you by.
Clenching the hand at your side into a fist, nails biting into the skin of your palm, you allowed the slight pain to motivate you into action as you let an inviting smile grace your lips. “Good morning.”
Zed looked taken aback by your forwardness, and it took everything in you to refrain from laughing at his expression. “You weren’t…”
“Sorry,” you apologized, wading to the edge of the river. “I needed a bath, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
Zed nodded, looking ready to turn back. “I’ll wait for you back–”
“Wait!” you called out, and he stopped, but didn’t turn back to face you. You didn’t plan on letting him escape that easily. “You’re here anyways… why not join me?”
Zed was still, a little too still, so you gave it one more shot. “Please?”
He sighed, finally turning to look at you. You didn’t want to scare him off, so you lowered yourself back down into the water before you lowered your arm from your breasts. He began to come closer, and you averted your eyes, staring at some shimmering rocks under the surface of the water as you listened to the sound of Zed disrobing. You were having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that you and Zed were about to be fully unclothed; you were too old to let this get to you so much, but at the same time, you couldn’t help it.
Your thinking time was cut short as you heard Zed enter the water, ripples making their way to lap against your skin. As you heard him get closer, you found yourself unable to look his way, your cheeks likely red.
Zed didn’t stop until he was at your back, a shiver going down your spine as he leaned down, his mouth right at your ear. “Why won’t you look at me?” he asked, voice huskier than you had ever heard it before. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“I… it is,” you answered quietly.
“Then look at me,” he replied teasingly, and you didn’t resist as he gripped your shoulder, gently turning you around to face him.
You shouldn’t be acting like this. You had killed many people before, so why were you much more nervous now than you had been then? However, that nervousness faded the moment that you looked into Zed’s eyes, half-lidded and focussed on your lips. He looked more attractive than he ever had, and you let your eyes close as he quickly lowered his face to yours to press his lips against your own.
Zed took full advantage of his lack of restraints this time, one of his hands going to the back of your head while the other went down to your hip so he could pull you closer as he kissed you. Your slow reaction time left your arms caught between his own, which gave you the opportunity to place your own hands on his chest, fingers pressed against tight muscles and dark tattoos. Your previous experiences kissing him had not done him justice at all, because you were quickly beginning to feel dizzy from how much intensity he was putting into the kiss.
It also wasn’t helping your focus that being pulled as close to Zed as you had been was giving you just a little bit too much insight into how much he wanted this. You were enjoying his tongue in your mouth, but this had been a long time coming already and you were too impatient to allow things to move slowly. You found yourself wanting to overwhelm him, to see what he looked like when he lost himself fully in you.
You redoubled your efforts in the kiss, meeting a swipe of his tongue with a soft moan as you reached one hand beneath the water to wrap your hand around his hard cock. Zed stiffened at the contact, but didn’t pull away from you, although the responsiveness of his mouth against yours began to suffer when you started running your closed fist up and down his cock. Pleased with the response you were getting from him, you began to stroke him faster and faster, until he pulled away from the kiss at last with a low groan.
“You just can’t wait,” he chastised without malice.
“I’m tired of waiting,” you replied as you continued to stroke him, his eyes closing as he let out a deep breath. “I want you so badly, Zed.”
Zed inhaled sharply, as if your words had cut him, his eyes opening immediately, the intensity of his gaze stilling your hand and making you blush. You were the next one to be surprised as Zed’s hands went to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and forcing you let go of his cock and grab onto him to keep yourself from falling back-first into the river. You yelped, wide eyes meeting his smug gaze as he began to wade towards the shore.
Once you were back on the grass, you were quickly laid on your back, Zed looking down at you, water dripping off his lower half. He knew that you couldn’t look away from him, and seemed pleased with the attention. You shivered as he ran a hand up your hip, trailing it up your body before closing his fingers around one breast. He began to massage your breast gently while his other hand went between your legs to rub against your clit, and the sensations were making it hard for you to focus on his words as you squirmed underneath him.
“I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long,” Zed admitted. “Are you sure that you want this?”
He was being so unfair, asking you questions while you were barely able to think. The best response you could give was a strained moan of his name, which brought a smirk to his lips as he leaned closer to you, removing his hand from your breast so he could support his own weight as he kissed you. He didn’t let up one bit with the circles he was making with his thumb on your clit, and you couldn’t do much more than moan under his touch, your hands around his neck and grasping at his hair.
“I want you, Usan. Only you, only ever you,” you sighed, staring up into his eyes, watching the way his breath hitched at your words, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. You noticed a flush to his cheeks, the sight only endearing him further to you.
“Stop,” he growled weakly in response. “If you keep talking like that, I won’t be able to hold back.”
“Please, Zed,” you whispered, and that was enough.
Your other leg was quickly wrapped around him as his cock sank into you, slowly at first and then faster when he noticed how easily you were taking him in. As he stilled, momentarily distracted by what he was feeling, you felt emboldened, grabbing the stunned Zed’s face and pulling him down so you could kiss him. Zed groaned into your mouth as you ground your hips up as much as you could, a sound that you were all too pleased to hear the usually-serious assassin make.
Zed pulled back from the kiss, panting lightly as he withdrew slightly from you, only to rock back in, the immediate prick of feelings causing you to let out a muted cry. Zed’s impatience was clear as he began to set a fast pace from the start as you tried to fight off the desire to close your eyes, desperate to watch Zed’s face as he stared down at you, eyes dark and hungry.
Soon, the pleasure you were feeling got too much to bear with your eyes open, and not a moment after your eyes were closed, you heard Zed’s voice, closer than he had been before, his lips against your ear as he continued to fuck you.
“I should have found you sooner,” he growled heatedly. “I should’ve had you like this… like I’ve always wanted.”
Zed moved down to suck at your neck, one hand shifting to move your legs higher up on his waist, the shift in angle causing his next thrust to hit even deeper against a spot you didn’t know you had. Combined with a well-timed drag of his teeth against your neck, you were so close to your peak that all you could do was clutch at Zed’s chest and biceps as you desperately moaned his name.
“I won’t let you get away again,” he promised. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”
Where had this Zed been hiding all of these years? The man he was now felt so foreign to everything you knew about your childhood friend, but at the same time, the sentiment behind his words hit such a familiar chord within you. You didn’t want to continue living job to job, with no meaningful companionship. You wanted to be with Zed just as much as he wanted to be with you, and you intended to tell him that as soon as you could form coherent sentences again.
But right now, you just wanted so badly to watch him get off, hoping he was as close as you were. Zed’s thrusts were getting slower, but deeper, and you took that as a sign that he was just as close as you. His cock continued to hit at the spot inside you that was above anything else, making you clench down hard on him, and with a deep groan, he repeated that same motion, watching you moan as your nails dug into his skin.
That was evidently enough for Zed as he stilled after one last push into you, his eyes closing as his jaw locked with tension. Just as you were starting to feel your own chances at orgasm escaping, Zed’s eyes opened, the heedy focus in them making you blush as he stared down at you.
Focussing on his face became difficult as Zed began to gently grind against you as his thumb rubbed at your clit, leaning down to kiss roughly at your neck as your pleasure climbed back up to a peak and you cried out. Zed made every effort to allow you to ride out your orgasm, rubbing slowly against you as he sucked on the side of your neck. You were left audibly panting when he pulled himself off of you at last to sit back on the grass, jerking his head to the side to try and move his sweaty bangs out of his face.
You sat up too, doing your best to ignore the unpleasantly messy feeling you had between your legs as you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his back as you pressed your face into his neck, revelling in the closeness.
“I’m glad you kept your promise,” you said, voice muffled by his neck.
Zed sighed in response, his arms coming up to return the hug as he rested his chin on your head. “I wasn’t sure if I would. Not until I saw you laying in Kusho’s chamber, nearly dead. You make it hard to leave you alone.”
You were slightly disappointed, but not surprised as you pulled back enough for you to look him in the eyes. “You didn’t want to see me again?”
Zed frowned, looking down at the grass for a moment as you waited for his answer with a clawing unrest in your heart until he spoke up at last. “You deserve a better man than me at your side.”
Swallowing your frustration, you put a hand to his cheek, forcing him to face you. You could see regret in his eyes, as if they were swimming with the years of pain he had endured for the choices he had made. But now that you knew the truth at last, you would not allow him to leave you behind again.
“I’m pretty sure it’s my decision who I want to be with,” you replied teasingly. “You are a good man, whether you admit it to yourself or not.”
“What I’ve done… Shen will become your enemy,” he muttered.
“You let me handle my relationship with Shen,” you replied, frowning at his efforts to try and scare you away. You stared deeply into his eyes, stroking his cheek with your thumb and hoping he would accept what you were saying. “Zed, I love you.”
Zed blinked, his arms around you tightening as you watched his defeated expression melt into contemplation, but you didn’t intend to give him any time to think of more excuses.
“I want an answer, Zed,” you insisted. “I won’t let you go until you answer me, so I hope you’re comfortable.”
You saw a spark of life in his eyes at last as one of his eyebrows rose in a mock challenge. “You know that I can just use the shadows to escape?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, leaning closer, your breasts pressing against his chest. “If you even try–”
Zed smirked at your pouting expression, leaning down to kiss you. You refused to close your eyes, unwilling to allow him to distract you and make good on his teasing threats of escape. After a few seconds, he pulled back, a small smile on his lips.
“I suppose I can’t run away anymore, so I might as well accept it,” he said, your heart skipping a beat at the genuine emotion in his voice. He sighed, not looking at all upset to resign himself to his fate. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”
Satisfied with his answer, you closed your eyes as your mouths met again, happily accepting the passion he was putting into the kiss, his arms unwilling to let you go. It had been so long since you had felt a sense of belonging like you had when you had been with Zed when he was Govos, and when he had been Usan. But as you adjusted yourself against him, you realized that you had another problem to deal with. Reluctantly, you pulled back from the kiss, resting your forehead against Zed’s.
“I think we may need another bath,” you laughed. “Maybe several.”
Zed didn’t need any further hints as he picked you up, heading back towards the river, his footsteps only faltering minutely as you decided to press kisses to his neck as he walked. You were glad that your shadow magic-induced sleep had left you feeling well-rested, because you knew that your bath with Zed would likely leave you drained of all the energy you were currently feeling, although you were not complaining one bit.
“How long was I asleep for?” you asked as you pulled your shirt on over your head, relieved that it was at least marginally more dry than it had been when you had hung it on the tree branch.
“A day,” Zed answered as he fastened the straps on his gauntlets, flexing his arm to check that they were properly adjusted. “We’re a few hours away from one of my order’s bases.”
You finished adjusting your own clothing, leaning against a tree while you watched Zed put on the rest of his armor. His hair was dripping water droplets down his neck, and you watched as they rolled to the edge of his scarf, leaving small water stains in their wake.
“Thanks for saving me,” you said as Zed finished dressing himself. “I was too reckless. If you hadn’t been there…”
Zed looked like he had pondered that scenario himself, his gaze stony as he approached you, pulling you into him.
“But I was,” he replied simply.
You reached a hand up to lay on his chest, but jolted in surprise with a gasp when the hand faded into black smoke up to your wrist. Your panic reached Zed immediately as he pulled back to assess the situation, relaxing visibly when he noticed your vapored appendage.
“Calm down,” he said, the lack of any panic in his voice helping to bring your own level of stress down considerably.
You watched as he reached a hand up to yours, your hand returning to its normal solid state as he gently grasped your wrist, wisps of shadow dissipating into the air. When he let your wrist out of his grip, you waited for your hand to dissolve into smoke again, but to your great surprise, it stayed solid.
Zed spoke up again as you rotated your hand at the wrist, looking for anything unusual. “You threw up most of the ichor, but not all of it. It’s not surprising that you would develop some abilities from the amount you still have in your system.”
You were still a little panicked, and Zed gripped your hand, smiling at you with the patience of someone handling a small child. “You’re fine. I’ve had many years to master the shadows, I can teach you how to handle them.”
You let out a quiet laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve learned under you.”
“This time without having to hide away,” Zed added. “I can only hope the Kinkou will continue to evolve under Shen’s leadership.”
Hearing Shen’s name now felt bittersweet to you. He would not be so quick to forgive you for shacking up with his father’s murderer, and you couldn’t even tell him that it wasn’t true, because Zed had killed Master Kusho, even if it was many years after he had been believed to. You would shelve your worries about Shen for a later time; for now, you just wanted to sleep somewhere that wasn’t outside.
“You guys ready to go?”
You turned sharply at the new voice that came from behind you. A young man stood at the edge of the trees that bordered the clearing, only wearing clothing on his lower half, a large weapon slung on a harness over one shoulder. A spark of recognition ignited in your mind, a brief memory of seeing him in Kusho’s chamber sending your hand down to where your daggers would be, until you remembered that all of your weapons had been taken when you had been captured. A hand on your shoulder had you looking back to Zed, who shook his head at you, and you stood down, trusting his judgment.
“Thought I’d give ya some alone time,” the man said with a smirk as he walked over to you and Zed. “You seemed like you needed it.”
“Kayn…” Zed replied, sounding tired.
Kayn stopped in front of you, extending a hand towards you. “Name’s Kayn. So you’re Master’s girl?”
You took his hand, unable to help a laugh at his word choice. Looking over at Zed, you relished the awkward look on his face. Grinning happily, you turned back to Kayn.
“I suppose I am,” you answered, letting go of his hand.
“We should head out,” Zed interrupted, taking you by the hand and leaving Kayn to follow behind the two of you as you departed the forest.
Kayn was not one to be deterred, clearly, as he easily caught up to you, walking on your other side. The grin he sent your way was conspiratorial, and he didn’t leave you waiting long to find out what he was thinking behind that expression.
“So, do you have any embarrassing stories about Master Zed when he was young?” Kayn asked slyly, eyes darting to Zed and then back to you. “…did he ever wet the bed?”
Zed’s hand tensed in your grip, and you laughed at his student’s eager questioning. “Let me think…”
Before you could ponder the question, you felt a strange sensation in your hand that was in Zed’s grip, and were barely able to look down and see that your hand had turned to shadow again before your vision went black for a moment. When you regained your senses a second or two later, you found yourself and Zed at the top of the hill that you had been climbing.
Looking back down the hill, you saw Kayn at the bottom beside two figures made of shadow. You looked at Zed beside you, who seemed to be purposefully looking away from his apprentice who had been left alone at the bottom of the hill, your shadow clones as his only company.
“Zed, did you just–”
Your question was promptly cut off by a shout from the bottom of the hill.
“Master, you can’t just shadow dash her away from me!” Kayn shouted as he began to climb the hill. “I’ll find out eventually!”
With a quiet huff, Zed tugged on your hand, pulling you along the grassy path and away from the still-shouting Kayn. Glancing at Zed’s face, you smiled. You would have to think of a good story to tell him when Kayn finally caught up to you, provided Zed didn’t cheat and shadow dash the two of you farther away again.
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eurydicees · 3 years ago
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theatre club au time!!! i’m back with the romeo and juliet edition of “eurydicees just write the fucking fic instead of daydreaming about it” 
theatre club au hcs are also here: part one and part two!! 
disclaimer: there was absolutely no editing nor proofreading here, i’m watching romeo + juliet and haven’t read the real script in years, and i really don’t know what i’m talking about
so. for the fall show, one year, they decide to do romeo and juliet, because obviously, you know? 
renge directs, kyoya is her stage manager
hikaru is romeo, haruhi is juliet; tamaki is mercutio, kaoru is benvolio; idk about the rest of the cast, let’s pretend they don’t matter for the sake of this list (filing the rest of the cast list under: problems for when i actually write this stupid fic) 
honey is on lighting, mori is on set and stage combat, mei is on props and costumes, kasanoda is on sound 
so in the ouran theatre club, there’s not really a big rivalry between techies and actors because there’s only a few of them, so they all switch between roles so often (ex. kaoru is 50% actor and 50% costumes; tamaki is 50% actor, 50% director) 
HOWEVER. then, right before the fall production of r&j, hikaru says some dumbass comment about actors having more work to do than techies, and being more important, etc. etc. some bullshit like that
and this causes a HUGE rift in between the techies and the actors for this show specifically— they’re all mad at each other bc of this comment; kaoru is pissed at his brother, kyoya thinks that tamaki endorsed said comment, hikaru isn’t sure why he said it in the first place, haruhi thinks this is all ridiculous but kaoru is being an asshole about it and so they’re mad at him; etc. etc. 
so this show is uh. not coming together very well, because no half wants to work with the other half, and none of them are talking to each other 
then. THEN. THEN. THEN. 
tamaki and kyoya fall in love. 
they start a secret affair together, telling no one, because they know that everyone in the club is mad at everyone else, and saying that they’re dating is just gonna add fuel to the fire, especially bc it’s an actor/sm relationship, which is a bit weird (it’s high school, though, so whatever. once this all blows over, they’ll be a #powercouple) 
things come to a head during one rehearsal, where they’re doing mercutio’s death scene 
so tamaki is acting. he’s going all out. like. he’s giving this speech as if it’s the last performance he’ll ever give. it’s brilliant. beautiful. stan. 
and when he’s done, mei makes some comment about it “needing lights to make it look any good,” as if he can’t make it good on his own, and tamaki is so hurt by this. like. so hurt. 
renge calls for the end of rehearsal, bc hikaru is abt to like. go to war in defense of tamaki’s acting, and kaoru is just mad at hikaru, so he’s also ready to argue (bc they’re at a good enough place in their relationship to do that!!!) 
kyoya, in an attempt to cheer him up, brings tamaki out for dinner, but they have to be discreet, so they go to some commoner place. this is where all the pining Hits. then they finally, finally, actually start dating. 
as we go through the rehearsal and production meeting process, the scenes that they rehearse are interspersed with fluffy scenes of tamakyo falling in love, idk how all that would get worked in right, but it would make it in there because fuck it, yk? 
the rivalry was kind of simmering for a while, but then they doing their stop and go rehearsal, which is always an rip, but here it’s the first time in a hot sec that the entire production team and the actors are in the same room 
the actors keep goofing off and moving around, so honey can’t get things quite where he needs them; the actors are talking loudly, so kasanoda is fucked (but too shy to say something abt it, until mori tells honey, who tells renge, who stands up for them all)
and a (verbal) fight breaks out— kyoya, the eversuffering sm is losing his mind over here. 
he is done with this shit 
so he calls hold, and renge gives a speech about cooperation, and then everyone kind of shuts down. no on is having fun with being in theatre anymore. kasanoda is two insults away from quitting. mei is two broken seams away from physically fighting someone. 
things are not going well 
after rehearsal, tamaki and kyoya have their standing secret date night at some commoner’s place, idk where yet, we’ll figure that out when this actually gets written as a fic, and then. that’s when they get caught. 
it’s renge who finds them— and she’s angry. she goes on this whole rant about professionalism. the stage manager cannot be dating an actor. it’s a conflict of interest. it’s unprofessional. it’s scandalous. she will not have it in her theatre. 
then tamaki points out. that she is here on a date with haruhi. 
fuckin’ hypocrite. 
the four of them have a cute double date bc fuck it. i make the rules now. and they realize that this is bullshit and they’re never going to pull together a show if they keep on arguing like this
but they don’t really know how to fix it???? 
it eventually kind resolves itself when renge, who cannot keep a secret for the life of her, accidentally reveals that she and haruhi are dating— they’re in the dressing room, and renge just kisses them, not realizing that kaoru and mei are arguing over kaoru’s costume in there
everyone is very upset for a moment, until they crack because kaoru and mei are both kinda hopeless romantics, and a star-crossed love is exactly what they needed to make the show come together
meanwhile, tamaki and hikaru are practicing mercutio’s queen mab monologue (for the #drama of the moment), and kyoya is taking notes or w/e, and when they pause, hikaru asks abt tamaki’s inspiration for his acting and what feelings he’s drawing on 
and tamaki is just like *looks at kyoya* “i have my own love” 
i’m gonna be honest i super worked myself into a hole here and i have absolutely no idea how to end this
unlike shakespeare, i cannot kill off all the characters in order to have a resolution to my work 
taking suggestions for an ending i guess. anything would be better than whatever this mess is rn
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self-loving-vampire · 3 years ago
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Ultima VII Part Two: Serpent Isle (1993)
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Summary
Serpent Isle is a direct sequel to the Black Gate. The arrival of the Guardian has been prevented and his cult has been outlawed and disbanded, but his most loyal follower has escaped to a place called the Serpent Isle to enact their backup plan.
But the Serpent Isle is not just an island, it is another world that you find yourself in after sailing your ship between the Serpent Pillars (yes, you get isekai’d while already living in another world).
This strange land is populated by people who fled from your lord long ago, and it seems to be suffering from an apocalyptic event that you soon experience for yourself, as a magical storm teleports your companions away and replaces most of the potent items you arrived with with random junk.
So your goals are clear: Recover your items, find the Guardian’s followers, and try to prevent the world’s destruction.
In many ways, Serpent Isle can feel like a more linear and limited game than the Black Gate (for one, you can’t own and freely sail a ship), but there are actually many things that I think it actually does better.
I played it using Exult and the SI Fixes mod.
Freedom
While Serpent Isle is not fully linear, it is definitely not nearly as open as the Black Gate was.
Where the Black Gate lets you travel nearly anywhere in the world almost immediately, even enabling several forms of transportation for this purpose, Serpent Isle initially allows only one section of the island to be explored with the rest opening up as one progresses through the game.
To its credit, the way in which these areas are locked off are sometimes reasonable and do not feel arbitrary. For instance, Moonshade is an island and nearly every ship in the land have been wrecked by the same magical storms that affected your party at the start of the game, so reaching it is not as simple as just buying a boat and going there.
There are other cases, however, where the restrictions do feel nonsensical. Such as the way the Bull Tower pikemen demand obscene amounts of money for the captain’s release but will happily accept a single much less valuable gold bar instead (since acquiring those is tied to a plot point). Then there’s all the stuff with the Hound of Doskar...
On the positive side, you can deal with various parts of the game in whatever order you desire within these limitations. This includes resolving the central quests in each of the land’s three cities in your own preferred order.
However, the game is still lacking in alternate solutions for quests in general. There are some decisions to be made, but they are rather minor in the grand scheme of things.
Character Creation/Customization
This aspect of the games is just as barebones as the Black Gate. You can only select your name, gender, and portrait. Your starting stats are pre-set and there are no further decisions to be made there.
However, Serpent Isle does have a marginal benefit over the Black Gate in that how you spend your training points matters a lot more, since you can’t just automatically max out your stats by completing the expansion.
Even then, there is not much to the character creation here at all.
Story/Setting
I think this is one of the game’s stronger points. The Black Gate may have had a larger world with more total settlements, but Serpent Isle’s three cities of Monitor, Fawn, and Moonshade are each significantly larger than the average Black Gate town and, most importantly, this world feels more dynamic.
Due to the way many of the game’s quests and events work, Serpent Isle manages to feel more alive than its predecessor. I will not spoil the details, but you often feel like something is always happening and like new developments are organically finding you rather than you having to actively search for them.
As has become typical of the Ultima series, the setting this time around is also centered around virtues, but in this case it goes beyond the Eight Virtues you mastered in the last trilogy.
Serpent Isle’s three cities are inhabited by the descendants of people who fled the reign of Lord British and who resent his edict of the eight virtues. The knights of Monitor considered Valor to be the highest virtue, the sailors of Fawn wanted to elevate Beauty as a virtue, and the mages of Moonshade did not feel that their profession should be associated with the virtue of Honesty.
But in addition to all that, much of the game revolves around learning about and mastering the ancient Ophidian virtue system, which functions differently from what you are used to. 
The Ophidian virtues are divided into Order (Ethicality, Discipline, Logic) and Chaos (Tolerance, Enthusiasm, Emotion). The forces composing both sides must be in balance to achieve a new set of principles (Harmony arising from Ethicality + Tolerance, Dedication from Discipline + Enthusiasm, and Rationality from Logic + Emotion).
The incoming apocalypse you face in the game is the result of a cosmic imbalance in these forces. The ancient Ophidians polarized into Order and Chaos factions that warred each other, with Order winning the war and destroying the Chaos Serpent, which causes the universe to begin unravelling.
While this game does have an antagonist, resolving this imbalance remains the most significant part of the game in terms of story.
The game also has multiple big scripted scenes that did not quite exist in the Black Gate, and the world as a whole changes dramatically partway through as a result of a certain event.
Immersion
As previously mentioned, things like the quest design and more dynamic world can help make this game more immersive than Black Gate in some ways. I am reasonably certain that some of the NPC schedules are a bit more complex this time around as well.
There are also a few new things, such as a frozen wasteland up north that you need warm clothes to traverse without freezing.
Apart from that, all the features mentioned in the Black Gate are still present here, such as weather, day/night cycles, and more.
But really I think one of the most significant differences is actually just the fact that you are significantly less overpowered than in the Black Gate and have less allies. I feel like that changes the feel of the game a lot on its own in ways that have to be experienced to be fully understood.
Gameplay
Combat is, as in Black Gate, automatic and uninteresting, though it is slightly more difficult now overall.
The rest of the gameplay is largely the same as in the Black Gate as well, though dialogue has been slightly expanded with more complex trees.
Really the main difference comes down to the differences in the world and available items rather than any mechanical changes.
Some of the most significant items are a ring (obtained from the Silver Seed expansion) that provides infinite magical reagents and a magical goblet that provides endless nourishment. These things are not nearly as broken as what the Forge of Virtue provides in the Black Gate, but are still nice conveniences.
While this game has less towns than its predecessor, it does have larger and more interesting dungeons overall. The one issue with them is that some of the puzzles in them are not very interesting (often amounting to just placing items on pedestals and such).
This is also where I should talk about one of the game’s major flaws: It is the first one where the influence of Electronic Arts began to manifest. It is nothing too major at this point (just wait until we get to Ultima 8 and especially Ultima 9) but it does mean there are some questlines that were left unfinished due to EA rushing things.
It’s not just questlines either. The towns were supposed to be larger and with more content, the player was meant to eventually gain a ship they could freely sail like in the Black Gate, and a major plot element had to be changed. The Silver Seed expansion in particular feels incomplete and inconsequential in terms of story, and is largely centered around four dungeons to explore for unique loot (both the dungeons and the loot are reasonably good at least).
I also dislike just how many plot-critical items are in the game. I would like to use my backpack space for other things.
The game also offers a decent amount of locations to explore, including many optional curiosities unrelated to the main quest.
Aesthetics
While the engine and graphics are largely the same as in the Black Gate, there have been graphical upgrades, most notably in the form of significantly more detailed and lifelike portraits for NPCs.
But I would say that the biggest aesthetic changes here have more to do with the game’s design and atmosphere. 
Serpent Isle is a far more unfriendly place than Britannia, and you will be accosted by assassins and deceivers during your quest. It makes for a more grim adventure.
The whole game has a much darker tone than any in the series since Ultima 5, I think. The world is completely falling apart due to the imbalance, with storms obliterating Fawn’s fleet, goblins making significant gains in their war against Monitor, and plagues are starting to break out. You do get the sense as you explore the world that this is a land experiencing its final days.
And things only get worse from here too.
I also like how unique several of the locations are. The city of Monitor is not just a walled city, it is populated by knights who organize into three different commands that rule the city. Meanwhile the city of Fawn is completely unlike any other in the series, being built entirely over the sea.
It is good stuff, and I wish they had had the time to expand and develop these locations as they had originally planned.
Accessibility
Exactly as good in this regard as the Black Gate, I think. Even the increased difficulty (which is still not enough to make this a “hard” game by any means) does not really matter since at the start of the game you get a magical hourglass that can be used to resurrect any fallen party members and the local monks will take care of your own mortality as well.
If there’s frustrations to be had here, they may come more from some of the less intuitive puzzles than anything and plot points than anything. The core gameplay is still extremely simple.
While the game can theoretically be played on its own, I strongly recommend playing at least the Black Gate first to learn a little about the events that led to this whole expedition. The two games really are part of the same package.
Conclusion
Between the Black Gate and Serpent Isle, I always got the impression that the Black Gate was the more popular of the two. I can understand why, as Serpent Isle was a bit rushed and lacks the open exploration that has defined the previous games in the series.
Despite this, I remember loving it about as much as the Black Gate largely because of the atmosphere and how the game feels. It is a particularly easy recommendation for those who enjoyed the previous game, as the engine and mechanics remain largely the same.
I also recommend this game for anyone who may be interested in following the story or looking for an immersive experience, but who doesn’t want to bother too much with stuff like combat or numbers. Even just watching the NPCs go about their day can be fun in this game.
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g0dspeeed · 4 years ago
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Unconditional Positive Regard, 2
Adam Smasher is very used to getting his way.
Until he doesn’t.
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De-escalation
 Adam Smasher is very used to getting his way.
Does he always get his way?
Majority of the time, yes, and primarily through intimidation. Intimidation was almost like a personality trait to Adam, the line blurring from who he was authentically and the stone-cold bravado he put out for the rest of the world to see. He utilized tried and true premeditated tactics such as calculated threats, blackmail, ransom, disrupting personal space, ignoring the spoken and unspoken rules of modern society, and frankly not giving a shit about what other people thought. Then again, said tactics occurred unconsciously, too. His physical presence alone made for a great argument. The man stands well over six feet tall, perhaps leaning more towards the seven-foot range, with broad shoulders and a deadly gaze to boot. Adam’s copper red eyes could give a look so menacing that other Arasaka operatives submitted to his authority without question.
And he loved this. He truly enjoyed wielding such power, to walk into a room and have an air of dominance over every stranger that stood before him. Made things simple. Never there to make friends, to play nice, to compromise. The only thing he sought out to do in these god-awful meetings that Arasaka forced him to attend was comply with the given, short-term objectives to a tee. Going the extra mile was only an option to Adam if it benefitted him. Or if it made the job easier, but that stopped if it meant kissing any asses that didn’t have a direct link to his eddie account.
Intimidation was effective on mostly everyone that Adam Smasher worked with or unfortunately encountered in his line of work.
Then there were the others. The ones that didn’t get the message or simply chose to make regrettable decisions. To get in the way. To make Adam’s job harder. Those were the people that required more intention on Adam’s part.
And Adam was every bit intentional with those who refused to submit.
The city appeared calm on the morning of his meeting. Wellsprings was the destination and Adam arranged the AV so he would arrive onsite early. The ride in the AV was short, but allotted Adam time to observe the Night City skyline as sun beams cut through its shadow like knives, gold and sharp and warming the streets below. Like his hometown, Night City had no concept of sleep, its population below teeming towards their next meal, deal, job in a sort of lively frenzy.
Adam himself felt tired. He still required sleep like any functioning being, experiencing a downtime where his senses and sensors went offline, and his brain, his still very organic brain, unwound and processed all that he experienced that day. Unfortunately for him, his brain didn’t want to unwind the night before, too excited about the job, too curious at what Arasaka needed an outside opinion on, and having too many questions unanswered.
What made this job so special?
Why would Arasaka seek out the opinion of someone in Night City rather than in Japan?
What made this third party so important?
Who were they?
Why them?
Why did their opinion have so much weight?
Most of all Adam wondered why he even bothered to care. The image and reputation that Adam had worked so hard to cultivate this past century should have emboldened him with steel-clad confidence in himself and his abilities. Should have. Why the anxiety? True, Arasaka was being oddly theatrical in their deliverance, but if Adam were honest with himself, he would acknowledge that he allowed a dangerous feeling to creep inside, a feeling that’s lethality pushed him to put his life at risk more than anything else: hope.
“Approaching LZ, sir.”
The flat voice of the AV’s pilot pulled Adam out of his mental reverie.
Surveying the area, he felt his suspicion rise. The AV was lowering at the top of a multi-leveled parking garage that connected to a moderately large, white building. The glass windows were polarized with a shade of gold, giving no indication as to what occurred behind them. Adam also noticed a lack of sign or company name, save for a white emblem that looked like the image of a lighted torch. Clean and shimmering, the emblem rested on the building’s corner, as if it were a true, living flame.
As the AV pulled away, Adam headed near the large elevator that sat on the opposite side of his landing zone. Gravel crunched beneath him, the annoying sound adding to his already agitated mood. Just as he approached the control panel, the elevator doors opened with a faint hiss.
Out stepped a fit, middle-aged man with dark, neatly combed hair, navy slacks, and a trim, button-up shirt. The man was occupied with rolling up the shirt’s sleeves, revealing a variety of tattoos on each bicep. Adam noticed a large NUSA script standing out amongst the rest. The man’s face illuminated with a white smile when their eyes met.
“Good morning, Mr. Smasher,” he greeted, his voice deep and rich. “I apologize for any waiting that we might have caused you.”
Adam grunted as he sidestepped the man to enter the elevator. He didn’t have to duck his head, an odd experience for him.
The stranger seemed unaffected by Adam’s response, maintaining a polite smile and joining him in the elevator. As the doors closed, he stepped forward and pressed one of the buttons.
“When we arrive to the office, we request that you place all weapons-”
“No.”
A pause.
The man resumed.
“-in our reservoir and deactivate any and all combat cyberware.”
“Out of the question.”
Adam turned to face him. The smile had faded, but much to Adam’s chagrin there was a hint of amusement in the man’s hazel eyes.
“I know that our policy opposes your own,” he stated. “But it is a requirement of this office.”
The elevator slowed.
“Are you the third party in the contract?” Adam asked lowly.
“I am not,” answered the man.
The doors opened as they arrived to their floor.
“Then you are of no use to me,” said Adam.
Walking into the space, his brows furrowed. He had arrived at an open lobby that was full of soft chairs and with tall windows aligning the walls. There was a gentle scent in the air, something floral that added to the relaxing ambiance of the floor. Some art was on the walls as well, but what distracted Adam was the sight of a single set of large, double doors.
No one was there other than Adam and the man who continued to speak to him.
“Welcome to Torch. This is our Services floor.”
Again, the man received a cold reply as Adam ignored him and approached the large doors. Giving the doors a firm tug, they didn’t budge from the frame. He tried again, this time with more effort, and became agitated when they failed to give.
“This building prohibits the presence of any and all firearms, as well as combat cyberware,” stated the man, his tone informative and light.
Turning to glower at the man, Adam saw that he was gesturing to a unit in the wall.
“We have reservoirs on each floor, calibrated with genetic security software to guarantee that only you can have access to them. We do not sell or use any of the collected data. It is strictly for security. Not even our own staff can touch your things without your consent, Mr. Smasher.”
Adam stalked towards the man with heavy, deliberate steps.
“Open the door,” he commanded.
“I cannot-”
A hard, mechanical hand reached out to grip the man’s throat.
“Open the door,” repeated Adam. The man’s struggling body was lifted from the tiled floor with ease. “Or I will break you,” added the merc in a whisper.
The stranger struggled in his grasp, attempting and failing to loosen Adam’s hold with his own cybernetic fingers.
“Open the fucking door,” Adam commanded again, his anger growing with each passing moment.
“I-It won’t open,” gasped the man. “Not until I see you put your weapons in the reservoir.”
The lump in his throat bobbed against Adam’s palm.
“Think I give a damn about your policies and protocol?” he rumbled. “I can just pop off your fucking head clean off your shoulders, then I’ll rip open those doors myself-”
“A-And she still won’t see you.”
Adam blinked in confusion. The man had no fear in his voice. No, the opposite. Bold. Certain. His whole demeanor was solid, his eyes never breaking away from that of the mercenary.
“She won’t see you,” repeated the man. “She’s not one for intimidation. N-Never will be.”
With a new blaze of anger, Adam lifted the man higher. The man gasped heavily as the grip became tighter on his air way, his face reddening into a deep scarlet.
Behind them, the doors burst open.
“Mr. Smasher!” yelled a voice. A woman’s voice. “Put him down!”
His head turned in the direction of the sound, his anger near the tipping point of rage.
Standing in the doorway was a woman. She stood before a group of other women, all afraid, their eyes wide and trembling fingers touching lips. One of the fearful women looked to be attempting to pull the other back, but with no luck. She stood firm in a white, form-fitting dress, the garment hiding most of her olive skin and hugging her curves beautifully. Her hair was dark and fell in waves at her shoulders and down her back. Oddly enough she was barefoot, revealing a blood red polish on her toes that matched her fingernails. Simple gold jewelry complimented her complexion.
The woman’s face, though attractive, wore a look of pure admonishment.
“Are you the one hired by Arasaka?” called back the mercenary, his voice still strained.
“Put him down,” repeated the woman. “Now.”
“Answer my question-”
“Not until you put down Dr. Estrada.”
Their eyes locked. Gold like her jewelry, they burned intensely with a heat that Adam could practically feel. His own resolve faltered at her ultimatum, mostly because he wasn’t used to anyone, let alone a woman, making one.
The man’s body dropped loudly to the tile.
To Adam’s surprise, the woman immediately relaxed. Gone was the fire in her eyes and features. Posture eased. She then entered the lobby. The women behind her silently panicked, their mouths agape at seeing her walk past Adam, bare feet padding across the tile, to attend to the fallen man. The man had recovered after a brief coughing fit and was sitting up with a grin. He accepted her offered hand.
“So all of this,” she said calmly, directing the man to the doorway. “Is because of our weapons policy?”
“Are you the one hired by Arasaka?”
His tone was more level, matching hers. The anger was long forgotten.
“I am,” she replied.  “Will you be able to make our appointment or should we reschedule?”
Adam frowned at the question.
Without saying a word, he began walking towards the doors. Her frame stiffened. In a stride she stood between Adam and the opening.
“You want to keep our appointment,” she acknowledged. “Please put your weapons in our reservoir and deactivate any and all combat cyberware.”
And like a switch, his fury returned ten-fold.
“I’m not going to go by your bullshit policies!” he yelled. “We’re meeting today! Stop wasting my fucking time and let’s get this shit over with!”
Pulse raced in his body, so strongly that he swore they could hear it. The doctor stood behind the woman, eyes shifting between her and Adam nervously. He saw how the man’s hands tightened into fists, as if ready to intervene at any moment. The other women were frozen in fear.
What did these fucking people not understand?
Adam was here to do a job.
He didn’t have to abide by whatever policies they were giving him.
It wasn’t going to happen.
All appeared terrified and concerned.
All except for her.
That woman with the dark hair and powerful, golden eyes remained by her place at the doorway, her focus on Adam and staring directly at him as if he hadn’t just yelled at her. If she was afraid of Adam, she sure didn’t show it.
A moment passed before he got a response.
Her voice was touched with a new softness, her face gentle.
“I hear you,” she said. “You are strongly against what we’re asking of you, Adam, and we’re asking a lot. This is our policy. It is important that our clients feel safe here. If depositing your weapons and turning off your cyberware is not acceptable to you, that’s fine, but it is our expectation. You can do what we ask and retrieve your things when our meeting is over or we can reschedule when you’re ready.”
Dark eyes blinked in confusion. No doubt his anger remained, but at hearing her words, the calmness in her voice, he found it oddly abated. Only slightly, but abated nonetheless.
He swallowed.
“Out of the question,” Adam answered lowly.
As if expecting his response, the woman simply nodded.
“Okay,” she said, that damn smile once more spreading across her full lips. “That’s your choice. The elevator can take you to the floor that Dr. Estrada met you at. Please reach out to our office so we can reschedule.”
Before he could muster up a response, the woman quietly closed the doors.
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sjrresearch · 4 years ago
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Breakthroughs in Board Wargaming
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By Blaine Lee Pardoe
Having been a player and author in the gaming industry for well over three decades, I have seen numerous innovations that have emerged in wargaming.  I make no claim that these are the most important breakthroughs, but merely some that have had a lasting impact on the games that we all love and play.  
The following list of breakthroughs in board wargaming is far from all-encompassing but includes advances I have taken note of over the years. Also, I have made my best-effort to attribute the innovators; but comprehensive histories of games simply are few and far between, which means that there may be mistakes. A lot of small game companies have come and gone, especially in the early years, making verification of some of the material challenging. 
As such, here is my suggested list: 
NATO symbols for counters
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Avalon Hill’s Tactics/Tactics II was the first wargame that introduced the NATO symbols for unit designations.  The NATO symbol set was a ground-breaking innovation that many publishers still utilize today.  It introduced military symbols to a primarily civilian audience. Once understood, it provides players the ability to identify unit types across a variety of games. Despite being a military iconography, they became widely accepted and a mainstay in civilian gaming even now, something many of us take for granted. 
Combat Results Table (CRT)  
Prior to Combat Results Tables, combat tended to be resolved in the same manner as Risk – with simple dice-off resolutions.  Dicing off rarely took into account the odds of the battle and, if they did, they abstracted them to the point of meaninglessness.  We have all experienced attacking in Risk with 20 armies against three and losing.  
CRT’s changed wargaming in that they forced players to look at overall odds in terms of attack and defense to determine combat resolution. Resolutions themselves could be varied depending on the game and the results. Always the trendsetter, Avalon Hill’s Tactics/Tactics II was the first published wargame that introduced this concept and altered wargame design and development from that point on.   
Hexagon maps
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Hexes have long been a mainstay of wargaming. Rand Corporation began using hexes on maps for its games in the late 1950s, but these were not commercial products. Most early games used squares for terrain/movement. Hexagons changed everything. There are a number of contenders as to the first published game that utilized these, but the most widely accepted innovator in this category was Avalon Hill’s 1961 Chancellorsville game.  Once Chancellorsville became a product, almost every other game designer defaulted to the use of hexes on their game maps.  
Cards as part of combat resolution
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Cards really first surfaced in board gaming with Risk (1957).  The cards were not a factor of combat but rather the means of generating reinforcements.  There was one game that used cards that impacted combat resolution, and that was the release of Kriegspiel by Avalon Hill in 1971.  While not a wildly successful game, the tactical cards used added a new dimension to gameplay. Avalon Hill’s 1776 used a card tactics system, leading to other board games integrating cards into combat in the years that followed. 
Geomorphic Maps
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The introduction of geomorphic maps, or maps that can be reconfigured and used for a variety of scenarios, was a stunning innovation at the time.  It allowed game developers to use a relatively small set of maps to create multiple scenarios, without having to create unique layouts.  Jim Dunnigan’s Avalon Hill release of Panzerblitz in 1970 broke this ground.  Games like Advanced Squad Leader have amped up this concept to a whole new level of variety and variance. 
Quad Games
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In 1975, SPI introduced a unique innovation in the industry with Napoleon At War Quad Game – the quad-game concept.  Quad games had a standard set of rules, four unique maps, rules for the individual games (there were four in a pack – hence the ‘quad’), and counters for the four games.  The games were not huge in scale but designed to be highly playable with players only having to learn one set of core rules and integrating minor modifications to those rules for specific battles. 
On the surface, this may not seem like much of an innovation – but it ushered in a new era of game series for the wargaming industry. Wargaming companies could create a single set of core rules for a series of games. It reduced development time and costs since the companies could focus on the maps, counters, and variant rules for that particular game. Companies that have quad-games in their series can trace their origins to SPI for this innovation.  
Games produced as part of a magazine
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Strategy & Tactics, initially produced by SPI, was a game-changer (pun intended) in the wargaming industry. Starting in 1968 with issue 18, a game was provided as part of a historical magazine. These games were of almost equal quality to those produced by SPI at the time, sans the box and counter system. Some would go on to be published in box form. 
With Strategy & Tactics, you got history articles about a subject and could then simulate it.  The price was reasonable, allowing for a lot of gamers to subscribe. Many gamers got their initial fix on gaming with a copy of Strategy & Tactics, and it and a number of other companies leverage the same model today.   
Dots in Hexes to Determine Line of Sight
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Line of sight on hexagon-based wargames was always a bit of a challenge.  Given hex sizes and the geographic features, it was sometimes a challenge to determine whether line of sight/line of fire was blocked. It often led to debates/arguments, some of which required involving the game designers.  
Game designer John Hill tackled this issue head-on with the Avalon Hill 1977 release of Squad Leader.  To resolve these conflicts, he placed a tiny dot in the center of the hexagon to be used to draw the line of sight.  If anything touched the line, it was considered blocked.  While this does not seem like a stunning innovation, many game companies have leveraged this idea over the years, and it has often brought an end to game table debates before they started.  
Progressive Wargame Rules
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Starting in the 1970’s, wargames started to explore the gap between realism and playability by becoming more complex. In doing so, it often became an onerous task to attempt to read, digest, and process increasingly thicker rulebooks.  
Avalon Hill broke new ground in 1975 with their Tobruk: Tank Battles in North Africa by introducing a progressive set of rules. Players learned the core mechanics of the game and played a scenario that used those rules. They then would read more rules, learn more gameplay features, then play that scenario… and so on. Each scenario built off of the other, introducing more game mechanics until the players were prepared to play utilizing all of the game rules. 
This teaching concept for game play allowed companies to introduce more complicated games in an easier to process format.  
The Monster Game
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Attempting to qualify what constitutes a monster game can be challenging.  Generally, it is a game that has a massive map and counter set and cannot be played in a signal session. Essentially, monster games are big, expensive, and require a significant commitment of time to play.  GDW (Game Designers’ Workshop) broke new ground in 1973 with Drang nach Osten!  It covered the eastern front of WWII and was staggering in terms of scale, with five 21”x27” maps, 1700+ counters, and a playing time that was easily well over 200 hours. 
Other publishers hopped onto the bandwagon with SPI releasing War in the East a year later.  Other monsters followed, including Terrible Swift Sword (Gettysburg), War in the Pacific, Campaign for North Africa, GDW’s Europa series, and Avalon Hill’s magnum opus, The Longest Day.  While the price of these monster games has increased over the years, they are still a significant niche in the wargaming marketplace.   
The Monster Game Runner Up – The Rules Monster
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Not all game systems can be considered monsters because of the time to play them or their sheer bulk but by the staggering ruleset.  The winner in this category is Advanced Squad Leader by Avalon Hill and Multiman Publishing.  Introduced in 1985, this game was on the same tactical scale as the original squad leader – but with a staggeringly thick three-inch binder’s worth of rules.  With supplemental releases added in, it is over 1,000 pages of rules. Advanced Squad Leader was not just a game, it was a commitment.  The game has sold well over a million copies and remains in print in several forms even today.   
So there you have it – my personal list of early breakthroughs – some big, some small, but all with some sort of impact on the games we enjoy playing.  
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At SJR Research, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse SJR Research’s service on our site at SJR Research.
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(This article is credited to Blaine L. Pardoe. Mr. Pardoe is a long-time gamer and has written material for numerous RPG’s and game systems over the years and is an award-winning author and historian.  He is a New York Times bestselling author and has presented on historical subjects at the US Naval Academy, the US National Archives, and other prestigious venues.)
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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years ago
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in the arms of the ocean - intro
A/N: Ha...hahaha...hi. So um... I had not planned for this to be the next thing that I posted. I have a few lingering requests from my last event (3 more to be exact, one each for Billy, Benjamin and Logan) and I have created so many loose ends in all my many train wrecks, but here I go again with another...I don’t make the rules, I just play the game. Anyway! I have been wanting to write something *like* this for quite some time now, and though I never saw myself writing for Caspian (because it terrifies me more than Billy for some reason) here we are all the same. Don’t want to give anything away so gonna go ahead ad zip it here and now. I hope you enjoy!
Warning: death
Word Count: 3,276
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25 years ago...
“Sereia!” 
She fought back a sob as she pushed on, wading out into the shallows. Her long dark hair swirled around her as the wind whipped through it, heavy raindrops pelting her cheeks to mix with the salt of her tears and the spray of the sea. Each step she took cut into her heart, slicing like daggers the further she got from him. From them. 
“Sereia, no! No!”
It was impossible to hear anything over the thrashing of the waves and the collisions of clouds overhead, but his voice reached her ear, broken by despair but clear as a bell. Vash. Her chest went hollow, his ache scraping at what was left of her heart after ripping herself from his kiss and from you, her daughter. She wanted to turn back, to see him one more time, let her eyes drink in the sight of the only man- the only being- to ever give her so much love that she had no choice but to sacrifice everything to protect it. But looking back would shatter her resolve to pieces, would send her running back into his arms, would make it impossible for her not to scoop you up and hold you tight and breathe in the sweet scent of your hair as she kissed it. Looking back would send you all to your death. Looking back would mean that Narnia would never be safe again. It’s the only way, Vash. Please understand.    
“Come back! You don’t have to do this! Please, please! Don’t do this! ” 
A small cry accompanied his pleas this time, and she froze, knees nearly buckling as the cold water bit into her skin through the skirt of her dress. Your name flashed through her mind then and she squeezed her eyes tightly against the burning at their corners. No, I have to… A barrage of memories swarmed Sereia’s mind as just a few meters away from where the sandy sea floor dropped off to the fathoms below, a whirlpool began to open. She felt the rushing of the surf as it flew out again, pulled back over her ankles and calves and out to the deepening funnel. Holding you for the first time, Vash’s arms around her as he kissed their daughter and his cheeks glowed with pride. Your first toddling steps aboard one of the many ships that passed in and out of her and Vash’s care, sure and more sturdy than most children double your age on dry land could manage. Your squeals of laughter as your pudgy little hand wrapped around her fingers and the two of you splashed through the foamy tide pools near your home. So much joy, so much love. Unsticking her feet from the soft, sucking sand, she carried on, her steps slicing deeper now. 
Another rush pulled more icy water out into the threatening maelstrom and Sereia was hit again, this time with images of the things that would never come to pass if she faltered now. You as a tall, lanky young girl, climbing the rigging of a ship to join Vash in the crow’s nest, his wide smile softer on your face than his. Love, perhaps, your fingers twined with another pair as your eyes radiated the happiness you felt. A whole lifetime of memories and triumphs, growth and adventure that you’d never get to have if she turned back now. So much out there for her still, for both of them.
“Sereia, you can’t do this...please...please don’t leave me like this…” 
Something in Vash’s voice was changing, the fight draining out of him as realization set in despite his continued begging. You know, Vash. You understand. You’ve always been able to understand. Their love story had never been a simple one, and therefore it made sense that the end would be no different. You understand, you have to. From the moment that she first saw him, clinging to that board out in the middle of the ocean, skin burnt and breaths shallow, she knew it wouldn’t be an easy love. The will of water was one of the most powerful forces in existence. Yet it was not powerful enough to take him like it had taken the rest of his crew, their souls already joining the ranks of those claimed by the sea. And by the merfolk. Sereia knew that her people had the capacity for violence, for vicious acts against the sailors that dared to brave the Bight of Calormen on their way out to the Great Eastern Sea. Domination, that was what they wanted, to control the glimmering expanse of ocean. Sereia never could grasp the concept that Narnians or Telmarines or any other man or beast that she shared these lands with were nefarious or unworthy of safe passage across their domain. Most of them don’t bother with us at all, they’re afraid. And with good reason. 
She knew of the stories sailors told to greenhorns as warnings; tales of beautiful creatures, half human but with the glittering tail and fins of a fish, bottom half covered in radiant scales. The stories told of a song so sweet that men had no choice but to give in to the trancelike state that drew them away from the safety of their ships and into the dark, silent void, so deep and cold that not even moonlight could reach it. Sereia knew the stories the men told each other because she often swam close to their ships; close enough to see and hear but not to be seen or heard. She knew the stories they told, and she knew them to be true. She’d always felt a sadness in that, in knowing that the horrors that these men built superstitions and rituals to avoid were true and that they were carried out by her people. So the night that she first saw Vash, she made a choice not to be like them. She made the choice to be a protector instead of a combatant, an ally instead of an enemy. Sereia didn’t know it yet, in the moments when her fingers brushed the man’s damp hair out of his eyes, but she made the choice to love. 
There was only one other that she knew who felt like she did, her aunt Coralia, who the merfolk had banished to the farthest reaches of their kingdom and labeled a witch. Coralia, like a fair few other merpeople, had been gifted with magic, but unlike the others, she chose not to use her powers for destruction. In secret, she cast protective spells upon the currents as they passed by her hideaway, enchanting the waters in an attempt to do all she could to undo the violence of her people. Sereia had been forbidden from seeing her aunt- contacting an exiled merperson was seen as an act of treason, as was Coralia’s refusal to use her magic to help conquer the seas. But as Sereia grew older and became more and more conflicted about what was expected of her, she began to care less and less about excommunication, and on the night that she pulled Vash safely to shore, she swam straight for Coralia’s dwelling without stopping and without even the idea of looking back. 
She had thought she would have to beg Coralia to grant her wish, and had spent the entire journey working on her argument, strengthening her reasoning for wanting to leave this world behind and join the world above. But Coralia had surprised her, welcoming her with open arms and a compassionate heart. She agreed to grant Sereia the gift of humanity, because she could see that her niece could never truly find happiness if she were forced to forsake her kind heart and give in to the cruel tendencies of the cold blooded creatures that lived only to see the demise of those that were different than they were.
 “Sweet child,” her honeyed voice filled Sereia with an unfamiliar warmth, her soft hands falling delicately on the younger mermaid’s bare shoulders. “You have love and compassion in your heart and peace in your spirit.” She shook her head slowly, her piercing green eyes never leaving her niece’s face. “I’ve been waiting for this day to come since you were small.” She tucked Sereia’s rippling hair behind her ear, and despite the free flowing water around them, the long silken strands stayed put at Coralia’s enchanted touch. “You don’t belong in this world, my darling girl. You never have.” Reaching up to her own crown of delicately arranged locks held in place by strings of iridescent pearls and bits of net pinned between golden starfish, and pulled a pin loose, bringing it down in front of Sereia’s wide eyes. “You were destined for far greater things, Sereia. Far greater things than you’d ever be allowed down here. You’re brave, child, and strong. You would not be here if those things weren’t true.” 
Tilting forward, she pressed her lips to Sereia’s cheek. “It will not always be easy, I’m afraid. Becoming one of them means more than dancing and merriment.” Her eyes grew sad then, her lips turning down. “It means bearing the burden of their emotions, the weight of their pain. And child, I wish I could protect you from that pain, but even my magic would be useless there.” Smoothing back the hair on the other side of Sereia’s face, she arranged her features into a warm smile once more, though it lasted less than a second before dipping down. “You will know heartache and tears and loneliness, and those things can tear some people apart. Knowing all of this, is it still your wish to join them?” 
Sereia’s heart raced and her fingers tingled with the memory of Vash’s hair and skin beneath them, the feel of the sand as she dragged him ashore, the rush she felt in saving the man that otherwise would have fallen victim to the violence of the sea. It wasn’t love then, not yet, but Sereia had known that she had crossed Vash’s path for a reason as surely as she knew that she couldn’t go back to life as she knew it. She could stay here with Coralia, doing what she could to keep safe the sailors that traveled above. But she’d never have anything more than that. She’d never see Vash again, she’d never dance, never know what it was to leave prints in the sand. “Yes,” her voice was small but certain. “Yes, that is my wish.” 
Coralia smiled then, her eyes flickering with hope and happiness. “Then let it be.” Delicately gathering Sereia’s hair between her fingers, Coralia took the golden star pin that she’d pulled from her own hair, and secured it away from her eyes. “The spell will allow you to swim to shore,” she explained. “But once the water becomes shallow enough,” she looked down at Sereia’s shimmering silver scales and lacy tail fin and nodded, eyes narrowed, not having to tell her what would happen next. “It will hurt, at first,” she warned. “But the pain will be fleeting. By the time you reach the sand,” she nodded again, this time with more vigor. “The pain will be replaced with joy, and though the spell will have worn off,” She brought her fingertips up to brush at the points of the hair pin. “The magic will stay with you, Sereia. Use it for good. Use it bravely.” She squeezed Sereia’s shoulders. “Use it to protect the ones you love.” 
If ever there were a time to use Coralia’s magic, hot tears ran down her wet cheeks as she reached the edges of the swirling funnel, forked spears of lightning striking all around, the sky and water both the same steely gray. Rising from the funnel, a great serpent reared it’s hideous head, an insidious glow in it’s many eyes and thick, sticky venom dripping from it’s fangs. As it surfaced, so did a dozen or so merfolk, tridents in hand and geared for battle. It’s now…  Raising her trembling hands towards the beast, she finally allowed herself one last backwards glance at the man and child she had been seemingly created to shield with her love. You understand, Vash, don’t you? “I love you,” she spoke so softly that they wouldn’t have heard her even if she were sitting on the porch steps at home, holding them close. “Both of you.” 
Before she ventured out into the roiling sea, she’d explained to her husband, as quickly as she could through trembling lips and burning tears, that the time had come for her to do all she could to save not only him and their child- you- but all of Narnia. 
“They won’t stop, Vash.” She’d told him between desperate kisses all over his face. “They’ll never stop, their numbers are too great, and now they’ve joined with her.” She saw the truth break her husband’s heart. He knew. He’d seen it. The merfolk had grown restless in their quest for dominance. Wrecking the occasional ship and pillaging the treasures on board no longer satisfied them. But to get more power they needed to make a powerful alliance. “Jadis, Vash.” She couldn’t stop saying his name, letting him hear it, running her tongue over it just a few more times.
 Sereia shook her head, tears blurring her vision, and when she blinked them open again she looked down at you. You were so small, clutching onto your father’s shirt, your eyes the size of sand dollars and filled with uncertainty and fear. Dropping her lips to your forehead, she repeated the same frantic kisses she’d given him over your cheeks and eyelids and hair. When she’d covered every inch of your little face, she looked back up at her husband and finally understood what Coralia had meant about heartache. “She’ll destroy this world, Vash. She’ll leave nothing for our girl...she’ll leave nothing for anyone.” You know it. She knew he did. Even as he begged and pleaded for her to turn back, he knew she wouldn’t. She took his hand in hers and placed it over her heart, and as soon as his palm made contact he released a sob that told her he’d accepted it- all of it. “You have given me so much more than I ever thought I could have, Vash. You will always have my love.” 
The storm was growing in intensity, the waves pitching and crashing. I don’t have much time. Reaching up, Sereia plucked the old but still shining pin from her hair, and scooped your fine strands between her fingers. “You,” she took your face between her palms and wiped your confused tears away. “You, sweet girl, you are my love. And I will always, always keep you safe.” 
That’s when she’d torn herself away, knowing that the longer she stayed the harder it would be to leave them. In that same impossibly soft whisper, Sereia sent one last blessing to her daughter. “Close to you I’ll always be, to keep you safe upon the sea.”  
She waited one more beat, gave herself one last glance at her family, and closed her eyes. I want them to be the last thing I see, not...not some beast. Them. Turning back towards the towering monster, eyes still clamped shut with the imagine of you and Vash imprinted behind them, she released all the power that she had, all the light that would have lasted her so many more years, all at once, defeating the serpent and banishing the merfolk, a protective barrier forming to push them and their monsters and even the evil witch herself far from the shore. As the last of her power drained, Sereia rejoined the sea, dissolving into the foam as the ocean calmed and the skies cleared. 
I will always keep you safe.   
.. ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  
 1 Year ago
The air was full of crashing, cacophonous peels of thunder rolling so quickly after the other that they were impossible to discern from the smashing of the sea. Lighting rode right on it’s back to rip the sky open with sharp, white forked flashes. Caspian gripped the helm with both hands, adding to the strength of the several crewmen already fighting the waves, muscles straining like never before to turn the great wooden wheel even the slightest degree. Salty water splashed over the deck in furious, frothy waves making the boards slick and perilous, but he planted his boots firmly where he stood, weight down through the soles of his feet as he pulled and heaved, desperately trying to negate the torn sail. 
“We won’t make it much longer, Your Majesty,” Drinian’s already gruff voice was reduced to a grunt as he too threw all of his weight behind the helm. There were no signs of fear or panic in the man’s words, only facts. Facts that Caspian knew well enough to be true.
 He glanced up at the rigging, what was left of the sails hanging in limp tatters and flapping in the harsh wind. We won’t. We need to get to shore. He nodded, eyebrows pinched together in determination. 
At first they had thought that they could push through the storm, sail hard and fast through the eye of it and out the other side. But there didn’t seem to be another side. They’d been battling the storm for hours without any indication that it would be letting up soon. Pushing through was no longer an option. Caspian closed his eyes and silently hoped that Aslan would send him a sign, an answer, some way to lead his men to safety, some way to keep Narnia’s King from ending up at the bottom of the sea. When he opened them again, he had to blink to be sure that what he was seeing was not an illusion. Is that?
“There!” He thrust one arm out ahead of him, his drenched sleeve hanging heavily from it. Drinian’s sharp blue eyes followed the line of the young King’s arm and widened when they fell upon the landform that had gone unnoticed until now. Or had it not been there until now? Just because he was King didn’t mean that Caspian was foolish enough to believe that he knew all of Narnia’s secrets. But regardless of how the island came into their line of sight, or why, it was their only option for safety. 
“Aye!” Drinian agreed with a nod of his head before shouting orders to the crew without a second’s hesitation. 
It was difficult to steer the massive ship with hardly anything left of the sails, but miraculously they did, throwing the anchor as soon as they were clear of the outcropping of rocks along the shoals. The storm continued to churn, angry waves tossing the Dawn Treader from crest to crest and rain lashing at the windows and portholes. But once everything was tied off and secured, Caspian had made sure that every last member of his crew had taken shelter, remaining on deck until only he and Drinian were left. More tired than he ever remembered being, and given his first real dose of fright- however fleeting it had been- in a long time, Caspian stripped off his soaked clothes and changed into something warm and dry, and collapsed into his mattress. 
We have to mend that sail tomorrow… first thing… need to find a sailmaker and… 
But the half thought slipped away as he slipped into a quick and heavy sleep, certain that they’d find all  that they needed once they were able to go ashore. 
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please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tags! I know some of you troopers have told me you’ re down for all the rides in the park, but I didn’t want to assume otherwise!
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@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @malionnes​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @gollyderek​ @pheedraws​ @russobill​ @thesumofmychoices​ @beautifuldesastre​
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kiruuuuu · 5 years ago
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More BB/Goyo in which Goyo is slowly going mad. On several accounts. (Rating E, fluff/humour/resolved sexual tension + smut, ~5.2k words) - written for @kiruuuuu​ seeing as she continued obsessing about these two after this piece.
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Blackbeard is slowly but surely driving him insane.
One big part is the physical aspect, Goyo isn’t denying it – and if it were only that, he’d be as far from complaining as he could be. If his biggest problem was Blackbeard's attractiveness, he’d live in an almost ideal world with most of his dreams coming true, but as it is, the deep-seated desire burning low and slow in his groin merely ensures Goyo doesn’t forcibly eject Blackbeard from his life again due to all the other reasons the American is personally raising Goyo’s blood pressure. He should’ve expected this outcome and largely did, yet imagining having to combat vague incompatibilities while cruising high on happiness hormones which are released in laughable quantities every time he receives a friendly text over the holidays was somehow decidedly easier to stomach than dealing with actual issues face-to-face.
Goyo knows himself, as does Amaru, which is why he doesn’t disagree with her suggestion of meeting in public the first few times. He’s always been weakest right at the beginning of a fancy, daydreaming of scenarios that leave him short of breath and having to adjust his trousers, hoping they don’t betray him if he happens to be in a public space. Despite knowing better, he’s dived head first into physical relationships and paid the price for it, and after having slept with a married man once (without his knowledge, though the blame of hastiness lay upon him regardless), he vowed to improve. Besides, he suspects Blackbeard hasn’t dated a lot of men, so he should take it slow anyway.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared for the change in wardrobe following a throwaway comment about camouflage patterns because not only did Blackbeard take him seriously and dressed differently for their dates from then on (which is a turn on already), his shirts are also very tight. Not unacceptably so, but entirely too tight for someone with pecs this pronounced. In moments when it was hard to deal with Blackbeard's personality, Goyo reminded himself as to why he was still around by eyeing up Blackbeard's chest and Christ. He would love to grope him for hours. Maybe suckle on those puppies. God.
It doesn’t help that he’s changed his aftershave as well. Goyo felt genuinely bad complaining about so much right away, even if it was done through careful euphemisms and half-jokes he practised beforehand, and promised himself to compliment Blackbeard elaborately should he act on it – but never did he expect for Blackbeard to dip into the nearest shop with him to try and find a fragrance Goyo liked. He claimed he was tired of his old one but hadn’t found an excuse to switch so far, and offered his own opinions additionally to Goyo’s, meaning the entire thing felt organic and constructive instead of passive-aggressive or, worse, blindly compliant. As a result, Goyo stands that tiny bit closer whenever he can. Prolongs their hugs. Inhales consciously whenever they kiss. He loves a good-smelling man, and Blackbeard has turned from handsome to painfully sexy.
He makes sure Blackbeard knows, too. He might be picky and demanding, but he would like to think of himself as appreciative, so whenever he notices the American looking or smelling exceptionally good, he remarks on it. And the delighted expressions he reaps are worth feeding this inflated ego. He doesn’t think the other man has been complimented on his appearance much, certainly not by fellow guys.
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The very first thing they fight about is punctuality. As inevitable as death. It turns into a recurring theme as they simply can’t agree on anything and Goyo’s laid-back attitude towards time sparks nothing but disbelief in Blackbeard – he does learn by setting their meeting half an hour before he actually arrives, but whenever he’s meant to pick Goyo up by car, he shows up on the dot and paces impatiently around the flat without taking his shoes off while Goyo finishes whichever task held him up. Blackbeard calls him rude, Goyo waves him off, and the whole drama repeats the next time. They even have a long talk about it, with Goyo stressing the importance of enjoying life at one’s own personal pace, and Blackbeard calling on politeness and prioritising others over tasks such as washing the dishes.
Related to this, Blackbeard always requires an exact plan while Goyo prefers adapting vague ideas to actual circumstances. There’s no spontaneity in most of Blackbeard's actions, he’s rigid and inflexible and it drives Goyo absolutely nuts. After having agreed on watching a film that night, they walk past a fantastic-looking restaurant Goyo instantly wants to try out, and Blackbeard flat out refuses. Just says no. Claims their original plan was superior simply because it was made earlier, and when Goyo points out that literally nothing is stopping them from having dinner together instead of sitting at the cinema for a few hours, Blackbeard is having none of it. He’s hungry, he agrees with Goyo’s assessment that the place looks inviting, and yet he won’t budge. How did he get to where he is now with this attitude?
Also, Blackbeard is loud. And by this, he’s not even referring to his deafening voice – he’s a pitchman manqué – but rather his behaviour as a whole. Nigh everyone can tell his country of origin due to him constantly approaching perfect strangers, which Goyo finds exceedingly rude. People just want to mind their own business, as does he, and he wouldn’t appreciate being accosted by some random dude on the street. Blackbeard has the gall to call him rude as a result and defends himself by pointing out he leaves the grumpy ones alone and has a lovely chat with the rest who seems to enjoy their talk. Blackbeard has no qualms cursing in public and calling out unacceptable behaviour, and Goyo preferred the ground to swallow him whenever his companion starts an argument with a line skipper or someone parking like an idiot.
What, am I supposed to just tut and walk away?, Blackbeard scoffs, his tone making clear what he thinks of the British nation as a whole.
There are countless other details: Blackbeard's apartment is messy. He can’t cook for the life of him, yet is an utter baking snob. He leaves the toilet seat up. He loves the worst kind of cheesy patriotic action films and accepts no criticism on this. The music in his car leaves Goyo’s ears ringing for the rest of the evening. He seems to think kissing is the only worthwhile public display of affection. He’s ignorant about most other cultures yet fancies himself open-minded because his best friend is Korean – this only means he compares anything and everything either to the States or Korea. Getting him to eat anything he hasn’t tried before is an uphill struggle. Except if it’s Korean.
Vigil seems to get a pass on nearly everything, and Goyo is beginning to think Blackbeard either had or still has a crush on the man. He’s empathetic and understanding as can be with Vigil, and almost seems to enjoy arguing with Goyo. It’s getting old fast.
.
And then there are those other moments. The ones so sharp and vivid they linger in Goyo’s mind long after the fact, bright and warm like a sip of good alcohol, and almost as intoxicating too. They end up eating in the restaurant after all, and Goyo is mentally preparing for the backlash if it turns out to be rubbish – not that he thinks it will be, but he’d rather outline his defence already. In the back of his mind, he’s wondering whether he’s the stubborn one in this case, with his insistence to get his way showcasing his own inflexibility. His mother taught him to be kind whenever he can afford it, yet past experiences and an underlying pessimism usually convince him he can’t. He knows she’d be disappointed with how often he chooses the less compassionate path.
“I’m not good at this”, Blackbeard announces out of the blue, throwing Goyo off once more. This happens regularly, him spiralling and conducting a whole other conversation in his mind, and Blackbeard interrupting his thoughts with something outlandish. Most of the time, Goyo is relieved about it. He tends to get lost and is glad whenever he’s brought back to the present.
Since there’s no indication as to what he means, Goyo needs him to clarify. “At what?”
“Just… this.” And Blackbeard gestures somewhere between them. “Compromising. Letting someone else into my life. Listening.”
I know someone else who’s terrible at all three of those, Goyo thinks and doesn’t say.
“But I like you. And I want to get better. So please be patient with me and talk to me. Okay?”
Blackbeard likes him.
Idiotically, hearing it out loud makes him giddy as if this was a new revelation, but then his brain latches on to the much more important implication of Blackbeard wanting to communicate, being willing to work on himself and on the both of them, admitting faults. It’s a beacon of hope and one he didn’t expect – Blackbeard has never struck him as particularly introspective, not with how he values arbitrary rules above creative thinking, yet it seems he underestimated him. He’ll have to correct his mental image and allow Blackbeard to improve.
“Yes. That sounds good”, he replies after mulling over Blackbeard's words for a bit, prompting a sigh of relief. And, to throw him a bone: “You’re doing good.”
A scoff. “Am I though?”
“You are. Why else would I say it?”
“I don’t know. You just…” Blackbeard lowers his gaze, searching for the right thing to say. “I’m nervous around you.”
Goyo laughs. Can’t help it, he bursts out with a brief laugh turning into a hearty chuckle because – Blackbeard gets nervous? He dreaded being in the same room as the American early on and never managed to settle down in his presence, and now he’s learning it was reciprocal? Had he known he could’ve scared him away, he might’ve confronted Blackbeard earlier, returned the sass, threw his weight around a little. Instead, they were watching each other like hawks for ultimately only marginally different reasons. Nothing about Blackbeard is adorable, but this is the closest thing to it: him being bashful, admitting his crush, relinquishing power and inviting himself to be mocked. Goyo is delighted.
“You don’t need to be”, he reassures and runs his fingertips over the back of Blackbeard's hand, a gentle gesture he seems to appreciate.
There are these moments which remind Goyo why he gave Blackbeard a chance in the first place, and they are what keep him going whenever Blackbeard starts arguing in favour of one of his ‘life principles’.
.
“I made a mistake”, Goyo states, not bothering to hide his fatalistic tone of voice.
Amaru is instantly entertained. Her optimistic and easygoing attitude is part of the reason why she got along so swimmingly with Goyo’s mother, and also why he’s endlessly grateful for her presence in his life: she helped him get past failures whenever his mum wasn’t available, and provided encouragement and support whenever he needed it. It’s also why he keeps bothering her with his problems. “Does it have anything to do with your new relationship?”
She watched from a distance as he made his first few questionable choices in his dating career, ready to pick him up and dust him off whenever he’d fallen down. He learned to accept and value her advice once he realised she was never wrong, so he’s hoping she can assist him with his current predicament. “How did you guess?”, he sighs, not requiring an answer. “They’re showing a documentary I’m interested in on TV this evening, and I mentioned it to Craig.”
“So now he wants to watch it with you?”, his aunt surmises, making him nod. “Which means you’d have to spend the evening with him without falling victim to his manly wiles.” He nods again, looking pained. “And you want me to give you the go-ahead for making up an excuse so you don’t have a bad conscience when you cancel on him.”
Well. Maybe she was the wrong person to approach about this. “When you put it like that, it sounds… bad.”
She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don Goyo, you’re old enough to not need my approval. Which you’re not going to get anyway, before you ask.”
“I have a feeling I know what you’re about to say to me.”
“Just tell him. If you’re not ready, he needs to know. He deserves to know, César.”
It’s not that he isn’t ready. If it was for him, they’d have fucked in the nearest public stall on their second date, he’s been dreaming about strong arms and an insistent tongue for almost the entire month that they’ve been dating. He’s overripe, and still – it doesn’t feel right somehow. Like he should wait a little longer. They’ve gotten to know each other much better, anticipating each other’s moods, making small gifts here and there and texting daily. Even so, there’s just something.
“Don’t brood. Go and talk to him. Either he respects your boundaries and everything’s good, or he refuses and you can launch him into outer space. No matter the outcome, you’ll be off better than before.”
She must sense his hesitation as she tries to instil her wisdom a few more times before giving up and wishing him a pleasant night. He leaves, conflicted – he doesn’t want to hurt Blackbeard's feelings by rejecting him before even anything happens, and at the same time he’s not comfortable actually reaching below the belt yet.
He’s hoping Blackbeard simply doesn’t try anything. It’s the best case scenario.
.
About eight hours later, all Goyo can think between different versions of God this feels so fucking good is: this didn’t go to plan at all. Blackbeard is buried up to the hilt and Goyo is grateful for being momentarily distracted so he has an excuse not to think critically about what’s happening right then.
And it started out so well.
Goyo arrives only fifteen minutes late, which he thinks is more than reasonable even if Blackbeard doesn’t comment on it, and takes note of the slightly less messy flat – it’s not even that bad normally, some dirty dishes scattered around and pieces of clothing, but at least they give the otherwise relatively barren apartment some character. They kiss as a greeting, briefly, as Blackbeard is busy heating up something to eat, and then sit on the couch with plates on their laps, chatting about their day while waiting for the program to start.
It’s domestic. It should be relaxing and pleasant, not nerve-wracking, but after sitting next to Blackbeard for ten minutes of serious introduction and noticing how his sweatpants don’t really do a good job at hiding anything, Goyo knows he won’t do anything to stop him should he make a move. In a way, it’d be a relief: get it over and done with, don’t dwell on it, move on. The anticipation is putting him on edge, keeps his hairs standing up and his breaths measured. He’s hyper-aware of his knee brushing against Blackbeard's, the broad chest next to him rising and falling, the thumping of his own heart.
He can’t concentrate. Images flash on the screen, a soothing narrator recounts past horrors in a deep voice and historical photographs take turns. He’d actually been looking forward to watching this programme, and should’ve known doing it together with Blackbeard would end in disaster, yet wasn’t prepared for himself being the culprit. Blackbeard has beautiful arms, oozing latent strength and tanned nicely, the dark hairs making them even more appealing. Maybe he doesn’t shave his chest. He probably doesn’t, would consider it unmanly, and with how lush and full his beard is -
“Can I get you a beer?”
Goyo blinks. It’s a commercial break, he hadn’t even noticed. “No”, he says, and thinks: and I’d rather you didn’t have one either. The taste of it is revolting to him.
“I’ll just get one for myself then”, Blackbeard replies, already risen from the sofa, and makes the mistake of leaning down for a quick, once again domestic kiss. It’s reciprocated just a tad too enthusiastically, so Blackbeard pushes back and after a few more seconds they’re tongue wrestling with an uncomfortable height difference between them. The angle is awkward but the feel of it amazing – and this is something Goyo has openly admitted numerous times: he loves the way Blackbeard kisses. Adores it. Can’t get enough of it. It’s intense and deep and wet and leaves him panting every time, with this being no exception.
He drags the other man in, forcing him to steady himself with one knee on the couch, one knee right between Goyo’s legs and both hands cupping his face. This, too, is shockingly sexy, the way Blackbeard keeps him in place to take him apart. Goyo reaches out and runs his fingers over Blackbeard's body and dear God his thighs are like stone, and his back muscles pronounced, and his abs too. He’s tilted far back now, the bear hovering over him, solid and threatening and like a rock set in motion. Soul-crushing. Inevitable.
They kiss until the break is over, until at least one of them is making these embarrassing little noises, until Goyo’s lips feel swollen and his cock is harder than it’s ever been in his life, until Blackbeard breaks off, flushed, sweating and dishevelled, and Goyo wants to suck his dick or he’ll die. Making out has always been Goyo’s weakspot, and making out like this is guaranteed to leave him weeping and ruining his underwear, and he knew Blackbeard was gonna try something. He just knew. They wouldn’t have snogged like this without purpose, without an ulterior motive, without the intention of moving on to more sinful things now.
“We should”, Blackbeard starts and has trouble focusing his gaze, “let’s – I mean -” His sweatpants really don’t let him get away with anything. Unbelievably, he disengages and plops down next to Goyo. Apparently he wants to keep watching, which is the sensible thing to do.
Yes. A good idea. Getting caught up in the moment isn’t what Goyo wants anyway.
Blackbeard is radiating heat. His confident persona has crumbled, revealing a passionate yet considerate lover, a man torn between doing the right thing and doing what feels right. Right now, his upper brain seems to be winning, or maybe he figures if he behaves, Goyo will reward him regardless, or he’s hoping Goyo will stay the night and they can fuck later, or he’s playing hard-to-get. The last option would be hilarious, since Goyo isn’t interested in buying what Blackbeard is selling for now. They should really go back to watching TV, and when it’s over, they can talk a little, and then Goyo’s going home.
Two minutes later, he’s straddling Blackbeard's lap while shoving his tongue so far down the other man’s throat it’s a miracle he’s not choking, and nearly coming in his own pants from the bit of friction he manages to get between his dick and Blackbeard's taut stomach. He’s a fucking magnet and an oven with how hot he is, mewling into the kiss like someone who’s desperate for any kind of attention, like a starving or drowning or poisoned man, like – like Goyo. His beard is soft and smells good, and when Goyo’s hands stray below fabric, he finds more hair on a broad chest and buries his fingers in it. The rugged edge Blackbeard visibly sports continues where the normal gaze doesn’t penetrate, Goyo is relieved to discover, and he can finally feel up these gorgeous tits. Get his hands on them and massage them however he likes.
His nipples are delightfully sensitive and Goyo spends too much time teasing them while sucking deep purple bruises just below Blackbeard's collar until he’s worried about Blackbeard exploding under his merciless ministrations. Frotting has been knocked down in priority now that he can twist strangled moans out of the hard body beneath him, but when his cock throbs almost painfully at a gasp, he knows they can’t go on like this.
“Please give me a moment”, Blackbeard gasps out, cheeks rosy and eyes unfocused.
Again, a reasonable request. He should listen.
“Bedroom”, he snaps and it’s not even a suggestion. He can feel his hole pulsing with the irresistible desire of getting plowed and when Blackbeard, after a second of disbelief, picks him up to carry him through the flat, Goyo is thankful for his foresight to bring condoms and lube regardless of his intentions. He had a hunch Blackbeard would try something.
They only shed what’s necessary (and the shapely legs are somehow only improved with socks on, but Goyo has been told before that it’s a sock fetish at this point) and preparation is an unceremonious affair except for the fact that Goyo sucks on Blackbeard's nipples until they’re raw and too sensitive while fingering himself open. The American has a great body, he has to admit, well-developed muscles, some scars here and there, coarse black hair adorning tanned skin and an upward curved cock beautiful enough to have Goyo’s mouth water, so sitting down on it feels predictably mind-blowing.
He does most of the work, which is fortunate as he can experiment with angles until he’s found one that actually makes him go cross-eyed, and once Blackbeard draws the connection between his blissful groans and whatever’s happening between their legs, he starts thrusting up and dear Lord.
This isn’t what Goyo had in mind when coming over, and yet he can’t find the brain capacity to regret or even care right now, not with how urgent his lust is tugging on his nerve endings, forcing him to ride towards exhaustion and cramps and an impressive muscle hangover the next day. Being able to steady himself on Blackbeard's torso is surprisingly sexy and the sheer barrage of pleasure bursting through him every time he slams down his hips keeps him from touching himself, effectively prolonging his sweet suffering.
Moving in unison has never felt this good and for once, they’re on the same wavelength, exchanging devoted gazes and trading the odd kiss. It’s akin to a reunion instead of a first time, like they’ve rehearsed this song and dance to perfection in the past and, despite a certain rustiness, are quickly finding back into their old routine.
When Goyo comes, his vision goes colourful with how tight he’s squeezing his eyelids shut. He shakes violently while balanced on Blackbeard's hips and gasps for air, overwhelmed by the elation accompanying his release and shooting his sperm all over Blackbeard's mangled chest, over the lovebites and the red marks his hands left behind from carrying his weight. His relief is crushing, and so he slumps down bonelessly, allowing the other man to pump into him a few more times before announcing his own climax with a low moan. Instinctively, it seems, Blackbeard’s palms travel over the back of his sweaty t-shirt, petting him reassuringly.
Goyo doesn’t like it. It feels like too much, like overstimulation after a long, satisfying session even though his was hardly long but certainly satisfying. He shakes the hands off and climbs down, trying to catch his breath. Next to him, blue eyes snap to his face, too attentive. Blackbeard looks like he’s not sure what to say. Goyo could lighten the situation, compliment him, make a joke, or be sincere about how much he enjoyed himself. Because he did.
Even with the afterglow fading fast.
“I’ll go shower first”, he announces and leaves with a quick kiss that seems unsubstantial. He’s gone before Blackbeard has even taken the condom off, and the sensation of dirtiness clinging to his skin seems to go beyond bodily fluids. Scrubbing himself with the only loofah (and isn’t that a surprise) wouldn’t be right, so he uses his own fingers to wipe off the odd feeling.
Blackbeard is sitting on the edge of the bed when he returns, and now he can finally place the source of the awkwardness between them: he’s not babbling. Normally, he’d have commented on Goyo’s stamina, maybe how great his arse looked, recounted an anecdote of some sorts, or even attempted a lame joke, yet all he’s doing is watching. He looks a little lost. Silvery droplets are caught in his chest hair and when they kiss again, Goyo deflects a hug with the excuse of wanting to remain clean, demands that Blackbeard go shower as well.
The bed is large and tidier than the rest of the room, as if Blackbeard had anticipated them ending up here. Despite the general lack of colour in the apartment, the duvet is beautiful with a dark turquoise pattern. The cushions look fluffy, but not too soft. It looks inviting. Goyo did bring a spare pair of underwear, knowing their shoe and therefore sock size is the same, and he briefly pictures waking Blackbeard up by sucking him off. It’s unlikely to happen, with how different their morning routines are – what little he knows anyway – and still, the image is most tempting.
He gets caught in the hallway with one shoe on his foot already, the other in his hands.
His stomach drops and speech evades him out of shame as Blackbeard leans against the door frame, tight briefs highlighting all his best assets. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem disappointed or hurt, which does nothing to quell the burning feeling of being a disgrace eating away at Goyo’s insides.
“What are you doing?”, he asks, no reproach in his voice. Patience is one of his virtues and one he displays right now – if there was ever a moment when Goyo expected an outburst, an indignant rant, it’d be now. Instead, he picks up on a hesitant disquiet, an uneasy curiosity. Blackbeard doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows it’s important, therefore he treats it with the same mindfulness he does any serious issue.
Goyo owes him this. If there’s anything he owes this man, it’s an attempt at an explanation. Since he’s formulated it before, talked it through with past partners, he’s not unprepared yet dreads bringing it up nonetheless. “I have… commitment issues”, he replies softly.
The answering silence is one of racing thoughts, he can read it on Blackbeard's open expression. “Do you want to talk about it?”, he eventually wants to know. For a guy with no idea of how to deal with this, he’s faring remarkably well.
“I am talking about it.” Defensive. He inhales deeply before continuing. “I have trouble opening up to others. I prefer keeping most of me to myself. I can’t trust easily.”
A nod. It hurts; it means Blackbeard has noticed but didn’t dare bring it up. Always the same thing. Goyo fights down a pang of annoyance – part of his mind tries to convince him they don’t deserve him: either they mention it, which makes them whiny complainers not ready to give him time, or they don’t, which means they don’t care enough. It’s bullshit and pops up in the back of his head every time. “Am I suffocating you?”
He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the notion. Blackbeard, who maybe suggests a quarter of their dates, who never complains about Goyo taking some time to reply to messages, who always accepts when Goyo wants to go home, seriously thinks he’s clingy. If anything, Goyo would like for him to be more overbearing, insert himself into Goyo’s life more aggressively. “No. You’re giving me all the space I need.” Too much, at times.
“Am I doing anything wrong?”
Well. What isn’t he doing wrong. Goyo’s heart melts a little over this brute trying to figure out why his lover is sneaking out on him, when it’s nothing but Goyo’s ugly side finally showing. He’s being unfair. “I didn’t want to sleep with you”, he says and knows instantly it was the worst possible thing he could’ve said, with how Blackbeard gains a look of horror, paling immediately, arms dropping by his side, slack, mouth working out an apology before the meaning has even reached his brain. Bad with words. This one he can’t really chalk up to bad timing. “No, that’s not what I meant. I wanted it and I liked it. I really did.” He’s flustered, flailing now, in unfamiliar territory, allowing the first thought to drop out of his mouth without scrutinising it first, and feels like it only gets worse. “But I – I had myself convinced I didn’t want it. Because, I don’t know. I’m -” Scared, he can’t bring himself to say. He knows it’d tear a wound which might not heal so easily. “Look. I’ll go. You don’t have to deal with this.”
No one should have to deal with him like this, sputtering and ashamed to the core, cheeks hot and composure non-existent. He wants to go home and hide for the next century and if Blackbeard told him now he’s not worth the trouble he’s causing, he wouldn’t even object.
“Don’t.” A plea. Heartfelt, for what it’s worth, but any other way and Goyo would already be putting on his second shoe. “I don’t know what to do, or what to say. I don’t know what you’d like me to do or say.”
Neither does Goyo. That’s the whole problem.
Blackbeard must be cold, nearly naked and standing in the faint draft coming in from under the door. He shifts his weight uncomfortably as they stare at each other. Please, Goyo thinks, unsure of what he even means by that. But when the next words hit his ears, he knows it’s what he’s been hoping for: “Just… come back to bed. Okay?”
The shoe hits the ground with a sharp sound cutting through the tense atmosphere between them.
.
Unsurprisingly, Blackbeard prefers being the big spoon. They fight over the blanket since Goyo needs it to sleep whereas Blackbeard insists it’s entirely too warm, and the familiar back-and-forth calms his racing heart. As does the gentle hand rubbing vague circles into his chest while they cuddle. After a few soothing moments, he asks the dreaded question of when Blackbeard's first alarm will go off, resulting in even more bickering.
“I really wanted to watch that documentary”, Goyo mumbles regretfully against the arm he’s cradling like a stuffed toy, partly because it’s wonderfully warm and partly because the skin-on-skin contact does funny things to his stomach. Being pressed against the length of Blackbeard's body is magical. He hasn’t felt this safe in a long while.
“Don’t worry, I recorded it.”
The reply, half lost in his hair, gives Goyo pause. If they could actually see anything in the impenetrable darkness Blackbeard requires to sleep peacefully, he’d turn around in indignation. “So you expected something like this to happen?”
He can feel the smile against his scalp. “Call it wishful thinking. Doing nothing but kissing did take its toll.”
Huh. Seems like he was right.
Blackbeard really did plan on trying something.
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gegenji · 4 years ago
Text
Musings on Post-5.3 Roadmap
So, I’ve had a fun little thought on how the plot of Final Fantasy XIV is going to go moving forward for a while now.
This latest patch did add some wrinkles and new information, but ultimately I think it actually makes my little story path I see in my head all that more... interesting, from a personal literary sense?
I’ve mentioned it on some Discord channels, but I figured I should really just put it down “on paper” as it were. To share, to discuss, and maybe come back to it down the road and see how close or wildly off the mark I was on my ideas.
This will involve some revelations from the most recent patch, of course, so I will be putting the theory beneath a Read More along with tagging the entire post as spoilers. Since it’s only been... a week and a half? Since the patch dropped.
So, my little theoretical roadmap comes in three parts. One for the rest of Shadowbringers, one for the unnamed Garlemald expansion that is supposedly coming up next, and one for the third and “final” expansion before the FFXIV main story ends and all that follows is just fun support stuff to keep the game alive (and bringing in money) for however long afterward.
So, to keep things tidy, I’ll split this diatribe into three parts to match.
Part One: Shadowbringers
With all our heroes back on the Source, I believe the rest of Shadowbringers will mostly wrap up the situation involving the Sundered members of the Convocation - like Fandaniel the Fantastical shown in the ending cutscenes of 5.3. Mostly since I believe somewhere it was mentioned that this expansion would wrap up the whole Ascian plot. So I don’t see these Sundered Ascians lasting past this expansion, as that would be counter to the aforementioned goal.
So I imagine that these Sundered Ascians may get some attention, but it’s hard to imagine them having the power and presence of the Unsundered like Emet or Elidibus. Unless - and this is what I think may happen - they pull an upgraded version of the Ascian Prime fusion that is done in the Aetherochemical Research Facility (or ARF, as many lovingly call it). This could serve as the final battle against the Ascians, providing a tangible combat threat for the WoL and their allies as well as handle the Sundered Convocation members in one fell swoop.
And since Elidibus took the station crystals with him when he was absorbed into the Crystal Tower on the First, there’s no way to elevate any of the other fragments of the Convocation members to their positions. Ascians effectively handled.
However, while that handles the Ascian situation, it doesn’t close the circle on Zodiark and Hydaelyn. Zodiark just loses its main core of people who are seeking to release him, as well as the main driving force causing the Rejoinings. That does not mean Zodiark is out of the picture, though, as there remains one very tangible individual who I see playing a major role in the Original Elder Primal’s release.
Zenos. (Not a huge surprise, I know, but bear with me!)
Part Two: Kingmaker
This expansion is dealing with the Garlean situation. The Populares as a united unit has been apparently dealt with offscreen given the ending cutscenes of 5.3. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some manner of ragtag band of freedom fighters or something that has been trying to cobble together a presence enough to get Zenos off the throne.
This would be our heroes’ “in” to entering Garlemald. Allying with and supporting this group of rebels against the Empire. Bringing in all the “good” Garleans we’ve encountered before, as well as introducing some others. Showing that Garlemald isn’t entirely full of cartoon villains but a nation of varied thoughts and opinions. It’s just the people in charge still adhering to the thoughts and principles instilled in them by the Ascians. The Ascians are gone, but their machinations still continue in this fashion.
The overarching plot involves getting the Populares reformed, fighting with Zenos’ forces, and - ultimately - putting Gaius on the throne instead. Putting him in the position to rule he had always wanted, but after being kicked down and having to make this climb back up. And perhaps senpai will finally notice Nero and he’ll end up as Gaius’ head of scientific endeavors while Cid remains with the Alliance (and perhaps joins the Scions as well in a more official fashion).
With Gaius on the throne, Garlemald would be in a position for peace with the Alliance and the war would finally end.
However, Zenos - as we have seen - doesn’t really care about the throne in the first place. He just wants to have his Grand Battle with his Best Friend. And the ending of Shadowbringers and the entirety of this Garlemald expansion has been setting up for this great battle. He has just been using his forces to entertain the Alliance and his Friend until he can get everything ready.
In the ending cutscenes of 5.3, it was implied that Zenos and Fandaniel were trying to goad Elidibus into showing up. There’s some ideas as to why, but my personal guess is to teach Zenos one of the few Ascian-related things he still doesn’t know how to do.
Rejoinings.
Either during the final patches of Shadowbringers or during this expansion, Zenos is going to figure out how to do this. Perhaps not as cleanly as the Unsundered did it in the previous Calamities, but he is going to. And that has been his goal during all this: to provide that one last Rejoining that will allow Zodiark to break free from His confinement.
Why? Shinryu 2.0. His goal is to harness the power of the Original Primal and seek to bend it to his will for a realm-clashing battle of the gods between him and the Warrior of Light. Whether he succeeds or his hubris finally comes back to bite him and he ends up a puppet of Zodiark, the now-deposed Crown Prince is still going to get what he wants.
And that’s the Warrior of Light having to do the same with Hydaelyn. The two have their great clash, and the Warrior of Light overcomes Zodiark-Zenos. Likely due to the power of friendship and Hydaelyn more willingly giving Her power to defeat Zodiark than Zenos’ forcing himself to replace Elidibus as Zodiark’s core.
This battle drains both Zodiark and Hydaelyn, finally removing the two Old Primals from the game. Things seem like Happily Ever After...
Until the Sound returns.
Part Three: Terminus Reborn
This is the big kicker: Zodiark actually never got rid of the source of the problem that caused His creation and sealed the end of Amaurot. He was simply holding it at bay - a task taken up by Hydaelyn after the Sundering, and perhaps aided by the problem itself also being split across the reflections. But with both Original Primals gone, and enough Rejoinings in place, the Terminus begins again.
This is where I see a literary parallel happening here. The Warrior of Light - also known as Azem, the wanderer and gatherer of stars - has been gathering people to them this whole time. The Scions.
And while they may not be exactly the same, and certainly don’t have the power, knowledge, or resources of the Convocation - due to not being Ascians, not having the station crystals, and not being in a similar position of power - there is enough of a similarity that one could compare the Scions to a New Convocation of sorts. Perhaps even taking up similar roles in the group dynamic - such as Cid fulfilling a Lahabrea-style position or something. Or Tataru being the Emet-Selch. Or even being identified as the counterparts like in the Scions of Light/Darkness in FFXII.
However subtle or obvious they make it, the full circle is here. The “new Convocation” has to deal with the threat of the original Convocation. From a far more perilous position and unable (and very likely unwilling) to just do a repeat of the past by summoning a new Zodiark analogue.
So the Warrior of Light does what they (and Azem) do best. They travel the world, gathering the help and knowledge of people all over to find out a way to defeat the problem. If there are any parts of the Star (would it still be called Hydaelyn at this point with Hydaelyn gone? Who knows) that have been left unvisited, this is the expansion it happens. New World, Meracydia, etc.
Through this, the true cause of the Sound is discovered (perhaps a previously unknown side-effect of Amaurotine Creation/Primal summoning) and a solution is found and implemented, saving the world. And showing the Sundered races having surpassed the Amaurotine they were fractured from by solving the problem they could not.
Expansion ends, and then all the future content is more or less just fun side stuff or other mini-conflicts that take place on the Star now that the threat of the Ascians, of Zodiark and Hydaelyn, and the Terminus are all resolved.
==========
And that’s basically my thoughts on where I could see the plot going, based on what I’ve seen and what thoughts I have had based on the information that’s been provided. And some adjustments and additions/omissions based on the Discord conversations I mentioned at the very start of all this.
What do you think? Seem plausible? Too far out there? Do you see things unfolding in a different way?
I’d love to see what others think - both of my idea, and their own ideas for how the plot of FFXIV will continue and ultimately conclude.
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boltlightning · 5 years ago
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i finally beat kh3 after i abandoned it in february 2019 and here are some (spoiler-filled) thoughts
positive thoughts
the reveal that terra was the guardian heartless the whole time? terra saying aqua was his guiding light??? FUCK
the dark aqua fight?? aqua’s quiet “good morning ven”????
they did the wayfinder trio so good
i feel like in general luxord, marluxia, and larxene all deserved better but i did like they got a positive send-off. it was nice to see my favorites all working together. though i did beat marluxia with 5 firagas to the face and it melted through 2 entire health bars :—)
it IS super funny watching sora interact with him though because it’s really just “you took EVERYTHING from me!” “i don’t even know who you are” between him and all the chain of memories people
roxas is op
don’t think twice is such a good SONG
ALL THE MUSIC RULES
negative nancy thoughts
i know they’re trying to balance the ratio of story content for people who play this game only for disney and the people who only play this game for the original stuff but i feel like...they should have been integrating the disney stuff way better way earlier if they wanted to keep both audiences entertained
they do a lot of telling, not showing, and i feel like no one sat down the writers and said “you can’t just have a powerful character say a cryptic thing and explode into light and have it make sense”
and i mean this is kingdom hearts where nothing makes sense but they set up SO MANY narrative threads that could have been resolved in a satisfying way and not by deus ex machina and they still deus ex machina’d it
and they really just...didn’t explain away some stuff like how org13 took xion from sora’s heart without him noticing but it’s fine
i feel like they kind of lost where sora’s character was going...i know the point of sora is that the strength of his heart and emotions are the center of his character, but he is so, so static despite EVERYTHING he’s been through and it is such a soft move to take with someone who is quite literally the face of the series
you can’t have a jrpg without purgatory, huh
i think ff7r spoiled me but...something about the combination of the field of view, frame rate, and targeting system meant i was just totally losing sight of all enemies in any fight that wasn’t a 1v1 boss. especially bad fighting xigbar and repliku at the same time, since xigbar can uh warp gravity
also why would you base all your combat on ground combat and then have like 4000000 fights in the air/water?! INCLUDING more than half of the final boss fight??????? WHY
i haven’t played the dlc so i don’t know if this addressed but it would be great if kairi served more of a role than just a plot device...cmon
tldr: it was ok. better than i was expecting, worse in a lot of aspects. gonna go replay kh2 instead of tracking down the lucky emblems or whatever
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anghraine · 5 years ago
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“the jedi and the sith lord” - chapter fourteen
Last chapter:
“And don’t stiffen up your arm.”
Lucy stared at him, eyes wide, then down at her hand. For a moment, she could hardly breathe. Her father was here, alive, teaching her what she’d wanted to know for so long. Her father—
“I won’t turn to the Dark Side,” she said.
“You don’t need the Dark Side to hold a lightsaber correctly,” said Vader.
This chapter:
He couldn’t deny the fuller truth. He’d started training her because he wanted to. That first moment of correcting her grip had come without thought beyond a vague and instinctive sense that she should know. She was his daughter, the child he had expected and then thought dead, standing alive and well in front of him. She had a right to know such things.
chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten, chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen
-
“I don’t see the point,” said Lucy.
“Good posture is critical for—” 
Vader broke off as he realized, horrifyingly, that his voice had fallen into the exact cadence of Obi-Wan’s. Instead, he laid his hands on her shoulders and straightened them. Lucy twitched, but he only sensed annoyance and a confusion he couldn’t quite identify, not fear. 
“Hold this position and try the third form,” he ordered.
“There is no try,” said Lucy, looking down at her stick. Determinedly, she lifted it. “Only success or failure.”
“Nonsense,” Vader said, though he was aware his men probably thought he believed such a thing. “The point of practice is to attempt techniques. You repeat your attempts until you can succeed consistently, or until success is no longer possible. You do not give up after a single failure.”
Or many failures. He’d learned that painfully and repeatedly. 
Lucy heaved a long-suffering sigh, then straightened to her full, if tiny, height and lifted the stick. She adjusted her footing and lunged forward. 
“Better,” Vader told her. “Now, try again.”
“I’ve done it twelve times today,” said Lucy.
He didn’t doubt that she’d counted. Lucy, he’d quickly discovered, was one to nurse her grievances. In anyone else, he’d have soon crushed the quality; with Lucy, he reluctantly recalled his own youth, and suspected that some cosmic justice had caught up with him.
He told her, “Then another twelve will not hurt you.”
She groaned.
“A Jedi,” he said, “must be disciplined and relentless.”
“I’m not a Jedi,” said Lucy, pushing her hair out of her face. “You said so yourself.”
You will be. 
Vader laid his hands on her shoulders again, holding them in place. “Try again.”
It was what had become a typical day. Palpatine had given him a kind of limited leave in order to turn Lucy—Vader suspected the new project had some part in this—and he was able to carry out his more urgent duties from Bast Castle or Vjun’s orbit. When not preoccupied with Rebel attacks and Imperial machinations, or the painful regimen of treatments made necessary by Obi-Wan, he found himself tracking down Lucy. Sometimes he simply oversaw her practices without comment, but more often, they spoke, Lucy either slinging questions at him, or arguing, or sometimes, eagerly listening to what he had to say.
He didn’t term it training; she’d refused that, and he knew that if he presented it in that sense, she would back away again. But, however rudimentary the techniques he taught her—Obi-Wan seemed to have made an even more inadequate teacher to Lucy—it was very little short of full Jedi training. He even consulted the databanks they’d preserved from the Temple, his memories of those early stages of his padawan training no longer sharply clear, and in any case, not something he wished to remember. 
He avoid mentioning the Dark Side. Her rejection of the necessity awaiting her remained strong, and this was the first real progress he’d made with her. He had to break down her defenses before she would choose to walk down her destined path. 
This, he told himself, was the reason he’d started observing her practices and then intervening in them. It was their first step to ruling the galaxy.
Yet he couldn’t deny the fuller truth. He’d started training her because he wanted to. That first moment of correcting her grip had come without thought beyond a vague and instinctive sense that she should know. She was his daughter, the child he had expected and then thought dead, standing alive and well in front of him. She had a right to know such things, however little she enjoyed hearing them or demonstrating them. 
And sometimes, in fact, she did seem to enjoy one or the other. 
Once, when she set down her stick after a long practice, he said, “You weren’t trained with a lightsaber, were you?”
“A little,” said Lucy. Then she paused, plainly hiding something. “But that was more about defense. Mostly, I did other things.”
“Ah. What types of things?” he asked, intrigued. It took all his resolve to restrain himself from insisting on taking up her incomplete training in … whatever it was. 
Her brows knitted together, and he suspected she might refuse to answer. Instead, she said slowly,
“Well, there was a lot of running and jumping.”
“Running and jumping?” he repeated. “That is how you were trained?”
Obi-Wan had taught him a wide array of abilities, many certainly involving speed and maneuvers, but he’d always focused on the lightsaber above all else. Vader had no idea how many hours he’d spent practicing forms and deflection under his master’s critical eye, except too many. And then there’d been combat training, and then—well.
This weapon is your life.
“It helps,” said Lucy. 
“How?” he asked.
She seemed both thoughtful and bemused. Then she gave a little shrug. 
“Watch, Father.”
With no more warning than that, she took off running for the rung ladder on the side of the wall, scaled it with alarming speed, and all but bounced off the wall and onto a platform. She took an unhesitating leap to another platform, one her short legs could barely reach, then took another—and suddenly, she was burning in the Force, and somersaulting right off a high platform to one that her legs couldn’t possibly reach. 
The Force would protect her, of course. He knew that, but if he hadn’t known that, and if the suit didn’t regulate it, his heart might nearly have stopped.
With every appearance of little effort, she sprang over distances that no other person of her size could have made or, in all probability, survived. Finally, she threw herself at the wall, caught a rung with her hands, and clambered down like a spider, still shining. As she landed, she turned towards him, and her stick lifted into the air and soared into her waiting hand. 
Lucy jogged over.
“That’s the idea,” she told him. 
“I see,” said Vader. “Impressive.”
She actually grinned. He could sense none of her usual petty irritations and frustrations, or the sullen anger that usually smouldered beneath them. In that moment, she seemed happy.
-
As for further discussion of their respective pasts, they confined those to Lucy’s mealtimes. Even then, Vader generally diverted conversation onto Lucy’s past rather than his own, which he could hardly think about without feeling deafened by the echoes of the rage and despair that had dominated so much of his life. Speaking of it was still worse, and yet, he nevertheless found himself doing so now and then. Anything that made Lucy more amenable had to be attempted, and total ignorance would hardly serve her well. And in this, too, he felt that she had something like a right to know—particularly to know the things that Obi-Wan had obscured or omitted. 
“The Emperor was your mother’s mentor in her teenage years,” he told her. “She admired and respected him until their visions diverged.”
“Did she know what he was?” Lucy asked in a tight voice, between mouthfuls of some kind of vegetable soup.
She was the only person he knew who could eat soup aggressively.
“No,” said Vader. “None of us did.”
Us rang out oddly. It felt peculiar to class himself in with Padmé, who’d betrayed him, and Obi-Wan, who had more than betrayed him, and the corrupted Jedi Order of the time. But between them, they had comprised much of the galaxy for him, until he came to see more clearly.
Lucy, heiress to that galaxy, just nodded. 
“That makes it better,” she said. “Did you—”
“You said you knew Obi-Wan from your childhood,” he said abruptly. “Yet he did not interfere in your upbringing?”
She didn’t look fooled, but if he’d forced himself into a certain level of accommodation, so had Lucy. She accepted the change of subject without protest.
“I think Uncle Owen might have shot anyone who tried.” 
The horror of Shmi’s last hours had vastly overshadowed Anakin’s brief interchanges with Owen Lars. Dimly, however, he found himself approving of the man. It was a pity about the stormtroopers. A too-frequent pity, perhaps. Lucy might be able to more effectively take charge of them, once she became empress.
-
Lucy tried to consult her feelings. She’d learned to trust them, more or less—but only when she knew what they were. As it was, she felt a blurry mixture of determination and annoyance and resentment and excitement that gave her hardly any direction at all. Even at her calmest moments, the Light Side pouring through her, she had little idea of what she should be doing.
She didn’t see Ben again, and couldn’t trust his advice anyway. Chirrut only appeared in her dreams now and again, encouraging but bemused by the whole situation. Yoda was entirely inaccessible. When she referred to his teachings, Anakin almost always quarrelled with them, and often sounded convincing—but he was Darth Vader. 
She never let herself forget that, even as she learned what she could from him and followed his instructions. When she did, anyway. At night, she constantly questioned herself, worrying that she was sliding into the Dark Side against her own will, and certain that, at the very least, he must be trying to soften her up for it. But the Dark Side fed off anger and fear and hatred. However complicated her feelings about her father, she didn’t hate him, and rarely felt worse than a general aggravation. And she wasn’t afraid. Nervous, sometimes—but not afraid.
Sometimes, she was even happy.
That worried her most of all. She’d heard about people who became happy in captivity, who were trapped so long that they came to like it, or think that they did. People could get used to almost anything. And, in fairness, she didn’t have a whole lot of bad things to get used to, beyond the captivity itself and the disappearance of Tuvié, whose absent chatter still gave Ellex’s silences a heavy weight. Lucy knew it had to be purposeful: give her comforts, and an unspoken threat that they might be taken away at any moment, and it would grind her down. 
If she couldn’t sense her father in the Force, she might have focused on that, learning caution. But she could feel him, and the more time passed, the more clearly she sensed him. She knew there was more going on here, had known it from the moment he stepped out of his ship to recover her. She could feel his present and remembered rage, his shifts to cool calculation, his deep resentments. But she could also feel his anger subsiding into a simple close attention when he came to teach her, the Light Side then easier to grasp than at any other time. 
She sensed more than that, too. When she’d first shown him a part of what she could do, she’d finished with a decided sense of satisfaction and pride at her execution of the difficult routine and control over the Force—more satisfaction, in fact, than she actually felt. And she’d realized he was proud of her. Nothing more than that, perhaps, but nothing less: he had seen Lucy’s abilities, seen her succeed, and felt proud. 
That, in itself, didn’t have to say much about him, even if the awareness that her father was alive and proud of her made her feel like the darkest parts of the galaxy had turned inside-out and lit up like Empire Day. She was his daughter; it made sense that he’d see her, at times, as an extension of himself, and her successes as extensions of his own. It made all the more sense considering his ultimate plans for her. And yet it didn’t really feel like that. It felt like he—well, like he wanted her to succeed for her own sake, too, for no better reason than that he was her father and, in his way, he cared about her.
She dared not trust it. But she dared not disregard it, either, when she could see nothing of whatever futures might await her. And it made life here easier, feeling echoed pride when she did something well, and concern when she did something dangerous (not really dangerous, of course), and interest when she said anything at all. They felt like traces of the Anakin Skywalker he had once been, of some fractured inner goodness that somehow persisted. 
Was there still good in him?
She didn’t know. But in the end, Lucy could see no other way but forward.
-
“Ellex,” said Lucy. 
Ellex didn’t respond.
“Hey, Ellex!”
She looked at Lucy, managing to imbue the slight shake of her head with profound long-suffering. She still didn’t say anything.
“LX-3,” Lucy tried.
“I am the only LZ-line droid in Castle Bast,” said Ellex. “Quite probably, I am the only one on the planet.”
“Sure,” said Lucy. “I mean, it seems likely. But I had an idea for something you could help me with.”
Ellex shifted slightly, the red flash of her optical sensors about as encouraging as usual. 
Not very.
“Is it required for your basic functioning?” Ellex said.
“No,” Lucy replied, “but—”
“Then why should I assist you?” Ellex’s sensors flashed again. “You are a prisoner here. I will act to prevent any plans for escape you may have—”
“I don’t have any,” said Lucy.
“Given your history,” Ellex told her, “that seems extremely doubtful.”
Lucy stopped. She hadn’t lied; she really wasn’t thinking about escape. Maybe her exposure to the planet’s deadly environment had killed that idea, though she didn’t recall any specific moment when she’d given it up. She just hadn’t considered it for awhile. Shouldn’t that trouble her? 
It did, a little. But not much. She focused on her tangled emotions, trying yet again to pin down something that might guide her. But the Light Side supplied nothing but the general comfort of its presence. Maybe that meant that she was supposed to be here. Or maybe it just meant that she might as well be here as anywhere else, or—no, she couldn’t go through all that again.
Lucy shrugged the entire question off. “My idea isn’t about that. It’s about moving the platforms.”
She could feel her father approaching, though, so she privately gave up, even as Ellex tilted her head back to inspect the platforms.
“I fail to see a purpose in doing so.”
“You’d do it while I was up there,” said Lucy. “With the remote.”
Ellex clicked several times, then said, “I now see a purpose.”
Lucy honestly didn’t know if Ellex meant that she understood Lucy’s purpose, or would just find it entertaining.
“However,” the droid went on, “I do not wish to be—”
The door opened.
“—disintegrated by Lord Vader,” finished Ellex.
Vader glanced between them. Ellex clattered a little from some indistinguishable motion, but to Lucy’s senses, he seemed intrigued rather than angered.
“Who have I disintegrated today?” he asked.
Lucy thought he might be joking. If he knew how.
“No one,” she said. “I mean, I assume.”
“Miss Skywalker,” said Ellex, in faintly accusing tones, “was suggesting that I move the platforms while she is on them.”
For an instant, Lucy did feel afraid. It wasn’t her fear, though.
Vader sounded perfectly calm as he said, “Hm.”
“That’s why they move, isn’t it?” Lucy asked.
He didn’t answer, but just tilted his head back to examine the platforms. 
“This has got to be a place for a”—she remembered that she wasn’t a Jedi apprentice any more—“for someone with the Force running in them.”
“It was,” he said at last. “Very well. But there will be no acrobatics. For now, you will attempt the leaps, and that is all. Go on.” 
Ellex, with what Lucy suspected was decided droidly pleasure, took up the remote and began to adjust the platforms. Lucy scaled the ladder took her usual leap onto the platforms, then just took a running jump that nearly failed as the new platform shifted towards her instead of away as she’d expected. She managed the next landing, but she did fail the third, only managing to hang on to the edge of the platform by her hands, while her legs dangled in the air. The Force gathered around Vader, though she neither knew nor wanted to know what he intended. She managed to hoist herself up, adrenaline rushing through her. 
With all the stops and starts and adjustments, it took longer than usual to fully open herself to the Force, but once she did, everything became clear. Something in her instincts told her which way the platforms would move before they actually did, and after that, she smoothly ran and sprang from platform to platform until she finally tired out. Lucy made her final jump before the ladder, then let go of the Force, launched herself at the wall—and as the last platform shifted under her feet, she failed.
For real, this time. There was no way to grasp either the platform she’d leapt from or the rungs ahead of her. But she didn’t have time to yell, because she simply stopped moving, her body hanging in the air.
Vader didn’t speak, but as clear as anything, she heard his voice. Do not try to free yourself.
What?
Slowly, she floated down to the floor, and landed with a scuffle of her boots. Well, she hadn’t thought of using that on people. Could she, even? Lucy looked doubtfully at Vader as he strode over to her, the stick in hand.
“That was exceptionally dangerous, young woman,” he said.
She dusted herself off and smiled. “All things are possible with the Force, Father.”
“Not if you release the Force.”
Lucy thought about it. 
“That depends, doesn’t it? After all, it’s still around.”
He now seemed irritated, but also something else she couldn’t pin down. And—curious? 
“Anyway,” she went on, “you were there.”
“I am here,” said Vader grimly, though she wasn’t sure what he meant by it. “Open yourself to the Force.”
“I won’t—”
“I didn’t say the Dark Side,” he said, as if hadn’t ordered her to turn for weeks on end. 
Lucy eyed him with some suspicion, but she trusted that the Light Side would never lead her astray. She breathed in, recalling the moments when every shift of the platforms had fallen into place and her muscles had just seemed to know what to do, and with nothing more than that, it coursed through her. Her weariness faded, a little.
“All right,” she said. 
He dropped the stick into her hand. “Sixth form. Go.”
She almost refused, almost insisted, I can’t, I’m too tired, but remembered just who he was. With a heavy exhalation, she adjusted her feet and shoulders and swung the stick upwards, going through the movements of deflection even though nothing was attacking her. With her hands sweaty and her muscles aching, it seemed particularly pointless.
Still, she dutifully carried out the prescribed movements, feeling rather like a dancing puppet. Vader, as far as she could tell, was pleased, but also dissatisfied in some way.
“Well?” demanded Lucy, lowering the stick and rubbing her arm.
“Good,” he said, “though you will not progress further with a stick and no real opponents.”
“It’s not my fault,” said Lucy.
“That,” said Vader, “is extremely debatable. But it must be changed.”
She blinked, baffled. “How are you going to find opponents for me?”
“Quite easily,” he replied, and reached for something under his cape, then tossed it at her. 
Lucy caught it without thinking—and her hands closed around the hilt of a lightsaber. Lucy stared at it, instantly recognizing the shape and design as the one she’d carried for so long, then lifted her eyes to her father.
“What—”
Vader drew his own—his current—lightsaber and flicked it onwards, its red light jarring in the white and blue room. Lucy took a step back.
He lifted the saber.
“Defend yourself!”
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tanadrin · 5 years ago
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Notes toward an MMOCKSPP(SO)RPG
i.e., “a moderately multiplayer offline crusader-kings style pen and paper (sort of) roleplaying game”
Provisional Title: Terra Vetus, bc Latin makes things Cool and Medieval Sounding (better suggestions welcome)
Design goal: Something that can be run either in an in-person multiplayer session, or (more realistically) online via a subreddit or Discord server; that satisfies the itch for diplomacy and strategy and cooperation; while encouraging roleplaying; and that supports a large number of players--say, well north of a dozen. A secondary design goal is to make most elements of the game publicly tracked and recorded; because I expect a large number of players, the potential for disputed outcomes the GM(s) must resolve, and a degree of complicated gameplay, it’s important that GMs and other players can go back and check if something feels off, whether due to malice or simple player error. However, if an error is discovered, especially if it’s a minor error more than a couple of turns in the past, it’s not necessarily important to ensure it’s corrected even if that would greatly disrupt the flow of play. More major errors, and things like intentional cheating, should be corrected or punished at GM discretion.
The major gameplay elements are character building and roleplaying; empire management; warfare (mostly strategic, some tactical); personal combat; laws and religion; and, of course, diplomacy.
The following notes do not constitute a complete ruleset. All numbers are extremely tentative, where given. Suggestions, comments, criticism, and other forms of constructive feedback welcome.
1. Game world
The game world is the physical representation of all the lands players control, the locations of their armies and important characters, and of big political organizations like realms and organized religions. There is not a single fixed map: rather, I envision that either the organizers of a game (”GM(s)”) or the players as a whole will discuss and decide on what kind of map they want. It could be a hex grid map, or a map divided into PDS-style “provinces.” These rules should work equally well with either.
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[a simple hex map via http://hextml.playest.net/blank.html]
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[the eastern Mediterranean in EU4]
At the start of the game, after players have created their characters and decided on how many holdings (i.e., provinces or hexes) they’ll start with, they should take turns selecting their starting holdings on the map. GMs can and should encourage players to start close to one another, to encourage interaction and to leave any blank spaces at the edge of the map for later-joining players, if that’s a thing you want to happen. More on character creation in a bit.
After starting positions are worked out, there is a “free” round of diplomacy, where players work out what the starting configuration of realms will be. During this round, players who want to cooperate as one kingdom or empire can swear fealty to a common overlord; vote on what they want their realm laws to be (more on Laws later); choose their realm’s official religion (more on Religions later), and so forth. When this round is done, the game is ready to start.
2. Basic gameplay
Each round of play represents 1 month of in-game time. Three months are one season; four seasons are one year. The seasons, in order, are spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Whether in-person or online, I recommend simply ending a round at a fixed time; say, one day of real life is equal to one round; or twenty minutes, or whatever length of time is convenient for players and for the setup you’ve chosen.
At the beginning of a turn, if it’s the first turn of a new year, every player gets their annual income from rents and taxes on land they own directly. They can then take basic actions.
There are two kinds of actions: military actions (troop movement and the like) and diplomatic actions (deals and discussions between players). Diplomatic actions can take place at any time. Any deals or negotiations between players resolve as soon as players want them to: instantly, or at the end of the turn, or at some agreed-on date in the future. The exception is any deal involving the transfer of land.
Military actions resolve at the end of the turn (only after military actions have resolved do land transfers take effect). Military actions involve ordering armies to move around. They also involve player movement (every player has a position on the map). Armies can move 3 provinces/hexes a turn; 2 if they cross a major river or enter or move through hills; 1 if they enter or move through mountains. If 2 hostile armies are in the same province/hex at the end of the turn, then under normal circumstances a battle will be fought between them.
Only when all movement is resolved, all battles are over, and all other recordkeeping actions for the turn are over, does the next turn begin.
3. Holdings
Holdings are lands you administer, not through any vassal, but as direct owner. Your peasants and serfs work the land; you tax the surplus they generate, and use it to fund your various activities. You can give land to vassals, improve it to improve your economic situation, or conquer it from other players.
Each holding is one map hex or province. Holdings have 3 main statistics: size, population, and efficiency. Size is the maximum productivity of the holding, an abstract measure of land under cultivation and other useful economic activities like cottage industry and resource gathering. Population is the measurement of the available workforce of peasants/serfs/commoners. Efficiency is a measure of any bonus or malus to production from any source (default 100%).
In addition to the actual population, each holding has an ideal population. The ideal population is the size*100. If the size of the population is less than the ideal population, the holding can’t produce its full amount of income. Holding population increases by 2% per year (applied in spring, after rents are paid), up to a maximum of twice the ideal population. Ideal population can also be temporarily increased by “labor costs,” which denote labor being diverted to things like holding improvements. These are represented by a temporary increase in the holding’s ideal population, usually for a set number of years. Labor costs can’t increase a holding’s maximum population.
Holdings can be improved by investing money and/or labor (usually labor, sometimes both). Improvements can increase the efficiency of holdings, their rate of population growth, the quality and number of levies you can raise from holdings in times of war, and so forth. A full list of holding improvements should be made in an appendix.
As the source of the mostly-untrained fighting men in your armies, you can raise the population of a holding as a levy. Levy units require 100 population each. You can’t raise more levies than a holding has Size (a pop 600 size 4 holding can only raise 4 levies normally, despite the surplus population). Raising any levies during autumn or winter will cause a -10% penalty to your holding’s income efficiency for that year. You also have to pay upkeep for levies. If you can’t pay the upkeep, your levies disband. The amount of money it costs to keep a levy raised for a month should be around 20% of the base income of a holding, to encourage careful planning of military campaigns. Right now I assume that you earn about 100 livres a year from a size 1 population 100 holding.
The formula for holding income is:
Size of holding * ( Population of holding / ideal population ) * Efficiency
with the middle term being capped at 100%.
If a military unit is destroyed (not merely defeated, but eradicated in battle), the holding it was raised from loses 100 population.
As a rule of thumb, military holding improvements should be quite expensive; even modest holding improvements probably aren’t a positive sum investment until a few years after they’re built.
4. Knights
Knights are a kind of NPC resource. They represent petty feudal subjects, who form the core of highly-trained elite fighting forces, both cavalry and men at arms.
Knights are created in holdings you control. To create a knight, you grant them land; this has the effect of reducing holding size by 1 (and therefore ideal population by 100), so you can’t do it in a holding of size 1. Knights provide less income--10% of the ordinary amount, so 10 livres a year--but in return they allow you to raise 1 unit of elite soldiers. By default, this is a unit of men-at-arms. You can improve knights’ estates, to change the kind or improve the quality of these units, and maybe mitigate some of the loss of income further.
Knights have their own persistent identities and traits. When you create a knight, you’ll roll up one or two personality traits. You can name your knights. They earn XP: every battle they’re on the winning side of nets them 1 XP, and you can use this to buy military traits for them (up to 3 traits). If a Knight’s unit is destroyed, instead of losing population, the Knight in question is captured by the enemy. You can’t raise the unit again until you ransom the Knight.
If a knight is killed, the land either reverts to you; or you can install a successor of the same line, with new personality traits and no XP. Lists of possible traits for Knights (and other minor NPCs) to come.
5. Battles
Combat is designed to be fairly simple, although still interesting on a tactical level; right now terrain is not a major factor, but I’m open to including that later. Combat is also designed to minimize random elements, to make strategic choices more important, and to minimize the possibility of disputes about how it should be resolved (which I think is important, given I envision lots of players, and GMs being kept busy).
Every unit--knight or levy--has three statistics: its strength, its morale, and a bonus Skirmish value. Strength is ordinary combat effectiveness in a pitched battle. Morale is a defensive value: how long the unit can remain in combat while suffering casualties. Skirmish normally functions as a flat bonus to Strength; but if the unit is ranged (like Archers), it can use its Skirmish value to attack without the possibility of retaliation, if defended by another unit.
Units are grouped into armies for movement on the map. Armies are organized into lines, which are divided into rows. The first row is units in the front line; the second and following rows are units held in reserve. When an army isn’t in combat, you can rearrange it freely. When an army enters combat, its arrangement is normally fixed.
In battle, the armies are centered on each other; each unit can ordinarily attack only the unit directly across from it (unless they’re Maneuverable). Units have three abilities: Harass, Engage, Retreat. A front row unit with a greater Skirmish value than the unit it’s attacking can Harass that unit. This deals damage equal to half the Skirmish value rounded down (so a difference of 1 Skirmish is useless), to the morale of the enemy unit, without the possibility of retaliation. Engage means two units enter combat at close quarters. They deal their full Strength value in damage to the enemy unit’s morale. If at any time a unit’s Morale hits zero, it enters Retreat. A unit that’s Retreating, if it has any unit behind it in the line, moves to the back of the line; all other units in the line move up 1 row. When a unit has been retreating for 2 turns, it’s removed from the battle. If a unit is dealt full Morale damage again while retreating, it is Destroyed. It is removed from the game; if it’s a Knight unit, that Knight is captured. If it’s a Levy, the Holding from which it was raised loses 100 population.
Battles have three repeating phases: harass, engage, regroup. All units that can, harass; all units that can engage, engage; then you put units into retreat that have lost their morale, remove destroyed units, and begin the next harass phase. Units will always attack the facing unit, unless there is no facing unit and they can attack units to one side. If they can attack units to one side, they will attack the inner unit first, and then the outer unit if there is no inner unit. Ranged units on the second row attack using their Skirmish value, and take no damage in return. Ranged units further back can’t attack.
The exception to the deterministic nature of battle is if an army is commanded by a Player Commander. Player Commanders are physically present on the battlefield. They are represented by a special unit Players can always raise, their Personal Guard. Various player traits can affect the combat effectiveness of their Personal Guard, or even entire armies. Player commanders can 1) choose to alter the attack priorities of maneuverable units, and during the regroup phase 2) move units side-to-side along the same row, if space is available, 3) switch the order of two adjacent units in a column (a unit can only be moved in this way once per turn), or 4) order a unit or units to enter Retreat prematurely (this still makes them vulnerable to being Destroyed). Otherwise, as stated, the way an army is arranged can only be changed out of battle.
Units can have special abilities, like Ranged or Maneuverable; Knights who have earned military traits will increase the effectiveness of the units they command. All relevant traits should be provided in an appendix.
6. Laws
Players can group together into Realms. Realms usually have 1) a monarch, and 2) a number of Laws. Laws, created by the valid legislature of the realm (the monarch, the privy council, the Estates, or some other body), govern how the realm is organized. They create obligations for vassals in the realm. Vassals can violate those obligations, and the game doesn’t automatically enforce adherence to the Laws, but this is where roleplay comes in. Loyal vassals and the monarch might band together to punish disloyal vassals. Monarchs might demand a vassal be imprisoned for their crimes. Even executed, to force a succession.
Realms can contain other realms. If you have, say, four players organized into a Duchy, with one player Duke and three player Counts, that constitutes one Realm with its own laws. The duchy might be part of a Kingdom, with several other Dukes and Counts, and a ruling King overseeing them. The Kingdom will have its own laws. Vassals of the Duchy by default have the right of appeal to the Duke’s superior; and the Kingdom’s laws supersede the Duchy’s if there’s any explicit conflict between them.
Laws control how titles pass from one officeholder to the next; how taxes are allocated; what obligations in times of war might be; who the valid legislating body for the kingdom is; and so forth. This is essentially a nomic minigame, but many suggested laws will be provided in an appendix. A default setup for a standard feudal kingdom might look like this:
Elective succession: the next king is chosen by the immediate vassals of the king when the old king dies.
Privy council: the kingdom has a Privy Council, consisting of powerful vassals. The King can make laws, but the Privy Council can veto them by a majority vote.
Taxation: All nobles pay a tax of 10% of their income to the kingdom’s coffers.
War: Feuds between nobles are disallowed; immediate vassals of the king can’t go to war with each other (they can still declare war on outside powers).
Laws can also carve out explicit privileges for certain nobles or certain officeholders or certain holdings.
At the start of the game, when organizing player Realms, the default legislature is the Estates, a general gathering of all the nobles of the realm where simple majority rule prevails.
Minor nobles, even independent ones, controlling 2 holdings or less, start with a default set of laws, under which they cannot change succession and most other laws without the approval of a superior lord, or their religious head (if one exists). If they have no superior lord, they’ll be stuck with the default laws for the forseeable future.
7. Religion
Religious principles are a little like Laws, but in addition to organizing your religion, they also cover dogmas (general metaphysical beliefs that usually have little impact beyond roleplaying) and ethics (guidelines of behavior that should have big importance for roleplaying). Purely organizational laws are called Canons.
The available religions and their features can be created in advance by the GMs; or players can invent their own during setup. Religions will have a head (who may or may not be a major landholder in their own right), and may have internal organization like autocephalous churches, ecclesiastical provinces, bishoprics, and so forth. Much of this will be down to how you organize your religions. Some player traits and qualities interact with religion. If, for instance, you’re playing an avowed heretic, other players can and should treat you differently, especially if they are playing very pious characters. Some religious traits can have impacts on how your armies fight; can grant bonuses to your holding income; and can grant you other personal bonuses. Religious principles with a gameplay effect should cost points, and be chosen at game start via a point-buy system.
8. Player Character
Last but not least! Your in-game agent, for which you should develop a name, a background, a political and social position, and for which you should choose a number of positive and negative traits. At character creation you can also invest in additional holdings for more points, or higher starting wealth.
All players have a rank. Your starting rank will be determined in part by how players choose to organize their realm--you might get lucky and be elected King at the start of the game, for instance. Rank is a fairly abstract quality, though: as in history, a nominal Emperor might not control that much land; a Duke might rule the territory of a King. A general rule of thumb here is that Duke or better titles generally have to be legitimized by a nearby superior, like a King or Emperor, or by a religious head. You might be claimant to a title you don’t possess; the legitimacy of that claim will be determined by other players, not by specific mechanics. Coming up with flavorful in-character variations on noble titles within a realm might be a good way to add color to the game world: as in the real world, a French Comte was equivalent to an English Earl or a German Graf.
Players can purchase equipment to improve their personal combat effectiveness. One-on-one player combat (duels) is governed by the system outlined here. Certain traits may improve or reduce how good you are at dueling. It may also be desirable to let players improve their Personal Guard through equipment they can purchase directly.
Players can earn different kinds of XP. Winning battles gives you martial XP you can spend on making yourself a more effective commander. Fulfilling religious goals (determined by your religion’s Ethics) gives you a religious XP you can spend on related traits--or which you can use to found new heresies. (Religious heads can use them instead to reform religious doctrines, if the religion allows for that sort of thing.) Administrative XP is earned by completing administrative tasks in your holdings that increase income efficiency and population growth, and reduce the cost of improvements. Even if you are (say) a landless character who starts pretty poor, it should be possible to make yourself useful to other players as an experienced commander, administrator, or advisor.
Of course, you will eventually die. You will lose all your traits, you may lose some titles depending on the Laws governing them, and you may lose holdings associated with those titles. But your wealth, independently held holdings, and your remaining titles will go to your heir. Your heir can be another player, but usually it will be someone in your family: your family being a collection of NPCs that act as a kind of resource, like Knights, but for the domestic political side of things.
You can marry an NPC--either a specific NPC in your realm, or a randomly generated NPC. Every month you’re married, you have a chance to have a child. You can change succession laws like any other law; but by default, your oldest child is your heir. The chance of children goes down based on how many children you already have, your age, how many spouses you have (if your religion allows some form of polygamy), and based on traits. Mothers can’t bear more than 1 child in the same 12-month period.
9. Wanted rules
Naval combat
Sieges
Marrying or hiring other players’ NPCs
Making Knights of family members
Other minor NPCs (monks and priests? advisors?)
Treaties to conclude wars
Ways of declaring war (possibly unlimited?)
Detailed army movement; how they’re affected by forts
Plots and murder
Rules for landless player characters
Rules for dynastic extinction
Rules for non-dynastic succession (optional, use only if you are really sure you want a player to, for instance, always play as a religious head or the leader of a republic)
Special resources and commerce (n.b., all money in this game is a unit of account representing the value of revenues paid in kind; not sure whether this should even be added, though it should add an element of map control that could be fun)
Castellans: knightlike NPCs or PCs, who pay 90% (instead of 10) (player castellans pocket difference as salary) and whose traits can be used to boost holding income or levy quality or w/e
Privy council offices you can stick minor NPCs or PCs in that can give you realm-wide bonuses, & can give those characters XP increases they can spend on traits.
Challenging people to duels
Extramarital affairs & illegitimate children
Blood feuds, court cases (outlawry??)
10. Wanted lists
Purchasable items
Special items (e.g., religious relics); ways of distributing them
Holding improvements
Peasant levy types
Elite unit types
Knightly estate improvements
Personal guard improvements
Laws
Religious principles
Player character traits
NPC traits (for knights, spouses, children)
Terrain modifiers (optional)
Naval levies (require directly owned harbors; you can hire other players’ ships)
Special resources (if included)
Poisons
Combat stances and ability cards (for duels)
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