#images that make you wail and gnash your teeth. one day you will be mine...

[megupedia]

FULL SET MEGU ぬいぐるみ

[writeawayjake]

CHAPTER 34

Red Jared

 Ensorcelled steel struck darkened crystal in a crash. Shards of pink crystal shot in every direction, showering all nearby. The sword's light flashed in a blinding display and for a brief moment all was silent. 

   Perplexed, the Thief King let his knife slowly wander from her throat. 

   "You… you missed!? How the fuck did you miss!? I'm right in front of you." He shouted.

   As if in response the tense silence was broken by a cacophony of otherworldly shrieks and screams. All about them a whirlwind raged, whipping debris this way and that. 

   From the very air itself materialized the all to familiar black mass and slowly from within it's smokey depths emerged those piercing red eyes. 

   Clenching his jaw, Jared adjusted the grip on his sword and crouched in a more proper stance, ready to take on the foul entity that had haunted his nights and tried to drown him in mead. In truth he had hoped just hitting the crystal would have killed it but this is where hoping usually got him. 

   Before he could manage another thought he felt a gust of wind slam him in the chest, taking all the air from his lungs, and like that, the world was dark.

   Jared found himself in the same dark void he'd been in before Skye had saved him. Yet again he reached for the sword only to find it wasn't there. Panic began to make a home in his chest, 

   "I can't beat this thing, I can't win." He thought. His breath quickened as he tried to think of what to do. Falling to his knees in a heap, all his hopes for victory began to fade - every chance to help the people of this town, to stop Finn, to save Skye, to beat the demon… all gone.

   Yesssss, the demon's voice hissed. You're no hero, you're no warrior. You are broooooken, youuuu are a coward. You let them down, youuuu let them DIE!

   All he could do was cower there, feeling like a child as the voice screamed down at him. He felt himself shrink as tears filled his eyes.

   You thought you could kill meeeee? I am eternal, I am a part of you, I will always be with youuuu, I AM WHAT YOU DESERVE!!!

   An unseeable hand slammed into Jared's throat, lifting him off his feet and beginning to strangle the life from him once again. His legs kicked and squirmed, his hands searched for an arm to hold on to or attack but they merely swung at air. 

   It felt as if his head was going to explode as he struggled to grasp for air. His limbs began to go numb and started to tingle and his vision blurred around the edges. Jared began to resign himself to his fate, to accept the death and darkness that was coming when, to his surprise, something began to illuminate the darkness around him. A figure wreathed in white light began to take shape, heavy, rounded shoulders and a bald head, thick arms crossed over a broad chest, a face he hadn't seen in a lifetime. 

   A gentle voice filled the air asking in a sad and fatherly tone,

   "Is this the man you've chosen to be son?" 

   "Dad?" Jared choked. 

   "You've forgotten yourself boy. Have you forgotten everything I taught you? Find a way to win..." The apparition paused solemnly. "You've forgotten us."

   The demonic hand loosened it's grip and Jared fell in a heap.

   "No!" Jared cried out holding his throat. "No! I never stopped-"

   "You've forgotten Jared." A different voice echoed, this one soft and familiar. As it reverberated through the void, a figure took shape beside his father, one who wore his mother's face. 

   "Mom? No! No I haven't forgotten!" He shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks.

   "You're stronger than this." She said in a heartbroken sigh.

   "You've forgotten who you were." Boomed a third disembodied voice, this one brash and boisterous. A swaggering hero took his place amongst Jared's family. 

   "Who we were." Chimed in a crotchety old Dwarf accompanied by a mute archer.

   "No! I haven't forgotten!" Jared cried out in frustration. "I've carried you with me every day…"

   "Exactly." Said a final voice. This one sounded of autumn breezes and spring birdsongs. Like home and hearth. Like peace and stillness. 

   Out of the darkness, wreathed in white light, the image of his peace took shape. A freckled, curly haired, I'll tempered goddess that had set his bones, stitched his wounds, and mended his heart time and again. 

   "We are more than sad memories." She said solemnly. "We all felt our own purposes - other than just being your motivation to drink. We all had our reasons and responsibilities."

   "But I - I was supposed to protect you…"

   "And we were supposed to protect you." She replied emphatically. "So how dare you feel sorry for us."

    Before he knew what else to say, the figure of his father approached the demon and growled, 

   "Get. Away. From my son," before reaching out and grasping the beast by it's wrist. 

   With a deafening shriek the demon recoiled in pain. It's smokey flesh, if you could even call it that, burned away at his touch.

   Heeee is MINE! It screamed.

   The demon's screeching filled the void. The sounds of dying horses, screaming children, and dying men, the sounds of horror and pain, despair and death rattled the walls of the void.

    "He is ours!" His ghost called out in unison.

    I WILL HAVE WHAT IS MIIIIIINE!!! The beast roared, deafening him. It's shadowy mass growing, enveloping the space around him, pressurizing the very air. It made to strike against the glowing collection of specters. Against his family.

   He could see a fist strike against a glowing white wall in front of them. The creature shrieked in pain as an awful sizzling could be heard. 

   Again and again the beast struck against their barrier, each strike creating another crack in it's facade. Soon the walls of their fortress began to crumble around them. Once again Jared's family would be buried. Once again he would be helpless.

    HE IS MIIIIIINE! MINE! MINE! MINE!!!  The demon wailed as it struck again and again.

    But over it's pounding and screeching, Jared could hear, clear as day, the voice of his beloved call out.

     "He is mine… and you will not touch him." It said, so soft and comforting, even as the world crumbled around her.  

   Tears burned his eyes and the lump in his throat was almost insurmountable. 

   "Ny - Nyah!" He shouted, his voice cracking and tears flowing freely. All she did was smile. They all just looked on and smiled.

   "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he bawled

   "Don't forget us Jared." They all called in unison, their light beginning to fade into the darkness, snuffed out by this demon of his. 

   It continued it's shrieking, bashing against the ethereal shield in front of it. Thrashing and wailing, sending shockwaves echoing throughout the void. The noise filled his ears, building and building. It was too much, it was all too much. The tears in his eyes the lump in his throat the pounding in his ears, the guilt, shame, horror, anger, and pain all flooding his mind. His mind, his body, his senses were all at their limits, all of them stretched thin, packed full, seems bursting, scales tipped. It was as if he felt everything at once. All of it overflowing and crashing in waves of panic and desperation as he tried to act, tried to be useful, to help, to do something, anything. 

    Until suddenly, all was silent. All was clear. Suddenly, he knew. It was as if a light had been lit within him, a resolution that could not be undone. Swallowing the lump in his throat Jared took a deep breath, letting it out felt as if he were dropping an anchor from his chest. He would never forget again

   "I know who I am…" he muttered to himself amongst the silence. 

   You are NOTHING!!! Shrieked the demon. 

   "I know who I am." He repeated, making his way towards the swirling malevolent mass. 

   The wall of specters all turned their heads and gazed at him with loving smiles, his father nodded in respect and approval, his mother smiled with tears in her eyes, and his friends all grinned their old grins. Nyah's ghost simply mouthed the words, 

   "I love you." 

   As he walked past them a sudden gust of air and a mighty wind enveloped him, the demons teeth gnashing and eyes burning with rage. 

   Without a word the swirling mass of dark smoke began to coalesce. The howling gale, being sucked into one singular spot. Taking on yet another familiar shape. Dark robes and blackened armor, covered in archaic spells. A twisted and grotesque crown laying atop a pale bald head. It's skin a deathly pale pallor, blue veins snaking their way all around beneath it.

    Once again he and the Dark Lord himself stood facing each other in a blackened rotunda and once again the bastard's cackling filled the air. 

    "You are doomed boy you must know this." The Dark Lord said, his voice like a knife sliding along a dinner plate. Jared had never forgotten that voice. It had been in many a nightmare of his for the last few years. "You merely killed my body, but I am eternal, I am death! I am the darkness! I am your nightmares made manifest, and I! Am a part of you."

    Without a word Jared smiled, and his smile slowly turned into a giggle, then a chuckle, then a laugh, and before he knew it he was hunched over howling. Tears once again filled his eyes but these were not of sorrow, he was truly hysterical.

    "What could possibly be so funny?" The Dark Lord asked, deflated.

    Between laughs Jared managed, " You. Haha. Y-youhoohoo bahahaha." He had to take a moment to compose himself before continuing. "I've already killed you before haha and-and-and nowhowhowhow, now you're back. Hahaaaaaaaa. Now I can take out all the crap of these last few years on you all over again hahahahaha."

    Taken aback the Dark Lord stood there, all the regality, confidence, and gusto taken out of him. 

    "I-" he began before a fist slammed into his nose, knocking him to the floor. A stream of darkened sludge-like blood trickled from one nostril, to the dark monarch's shock. 

    "See, back then… back then I didn't know how to kill ya. And for that you gave me this scar on my shoulder. I rushed in headfirst like a stupid kid because well," he looked back to Nyah. "I had someone I needed to get back to rather quickly… but now! Now I know." Jared chuckled, wagging his finger before kicking the robed figure in the gut, knocking his crown off.

    "You wanted me to get dark? I'll show you dark," he growled, stomping the back of his enemy's knee. 

    The Dark Lord screamed out in pain, shrieking like a man who had never been hit before.

    "Killing you the first time got me the name Dawnbringer." He said kneeling down. Seeing a look of terror take hold in those old red eyes he continued. "See, I know who I am now. It took me some time, some blood, lotta mead. I thought I had to choose between being a good man or… well this, but you've helped me see. Because of you I know I can be both. I can defend the helpless... but I can still enjoy punishing the wicked." 

   Quickly and violently Jared grabbed the dark king's collar, shaking with barely restrained fury. Reaching down once again, this time he found his wayward sword. Slowly unsheathing it, he made sure his enemy saw it's glowing blade, made sure it burned into his eyes. Slowly he began moving the blade of his holy sword to the quivering tyrant's throat before continuing. "You took that from me for a while I'll admit. That choice - that... sense of self, and for a long long time I wasn't sure what I was. But we all have a choice and now, now I'm gonna choose to show you why they called me Red Jared…"

@emdop @create-and-procrastinate

Thought you deserved some more lol

[enambris]

Story Night - The Little Princess and the Old Crone

The transcript of Enambris’ uplifting tale to end a crowded story night, a reminder that we will all Triumph against the Faceless. @the-faceless-ffxiv

“For tonight's final tale, I will be telling another old story from long ago. One I grew up with, that can be traced back to Old Coerthas and the hundred clans." As she speaks, the lights in the room once more dim, flickering lights borne from her sternum bursting into falling starstuff and settling around the room, the image flickering to that of a deep forest filled with faerie-lights flickering between distant trees, the lounge transformed into a meadow clearing deep in the dark woods.

As she speaks, a musical humming under-currents her tone, motes of aether used to paint the room as a backdrop to the fantastical tale. In the clearing, like a pop-up storybook, a little cottage blooms covered in thick ivy, little honeycombs clinging to its flora-flush walls, and a waterwheel pulled to rotate by a lovely, crystal brook that weaves through the forest.

"Once, a very long time ago, there was a dark forest that bordered the edge of a little kingdom. In that forest, there was a cottage, and in that cottage lived an old crone, who all knew to be very wise, and very powerful. The people of the little kingdom knew her to be true, when her words told tale of prophecy, and so those strong and brave enough to venture into the dark woods would seek her wisdom and council."

The forest, around the little cottage, flickers with little red lights, eyes that peer into the clearing through the gloom. Time appears to shift, summer hues giving way to painted autumn leaves, which fall to make way for blankets of pure white snow.

"The little kingdom had enemies, and so they built their walls high. The king and his wife were getting on in years, and he had no heir. The king knew that if no heir came to claim the throne, the witch who made her home in the deadlands to the south would try to ruin the little kingdom."

Walls spring up around the distant kingdom as the scene slowly shifts, the sun high above the tallest tower.

"One day, the king decided to seek out the witch. He beseeched the old crone help he and his wife have a child. The witch agreed - on the condition that once the child saw their first winter, they would be raised instead by the Witch until the child came of age. The king was heart-broken, but seeing no alternative, conceded."

Imagery shifts, the streets and buildings inside the little kingdom coming into view. High walls and spires decorated in beautiful colors, trumpets sounding and criers on every street corner, proclaiming the birth of an heir.

"Within one year, the queen gave birth to a beautiful little girl, as radiant as the sun and as gentle as the moon. 'An heir! An heir has been born!' shouted the criers. The bells rang! The kingdom celebrated! Singing and joy ruled the land. But the joyous occasion would not be joyous long, as two days later, the Queen succumbed to her labor, and for her the kingdom mourned."

The wind shifts, catching the flags and banners, and as they turn over upon themselves their colors fade into black. Angry black clouds cover the sky, and rains wash over the kingdom.

"When the child saw her first nameday, the king once more mourned, as the old crone came to take her away. 'Your word, good king, will save your kingdom,' she told him. With no other choice, the king conceded, and the little princess was taken to live with the old crone in the woods."

The scenery shifts in a prismatic whirl of color, the kingdom shrinking and expanding into the little cottage as though ink had bled from page to page. The seasons play out in vibrant light, spring blooms replaced by warm summer sunshine, which gives way to crisp autumn leaves and snow. The cycle repeats once, twice, thrice, ever changing. When it finally settles, crisp autumn reigns.

"The old crone cared for the little princess as if she was her own, but she was strict, and her lessons to the girl were long and difficult. She taught her much about the world, she taught her to be unafraid of the animals, and how to live in harmony with the land. She guided her to make her body strong as iron, and said to her every day, 'If your heart is always true, you will weather any storm'. And so, in secret, the little princess grew up."

"The years passed, and before long, the king became lonely. He searched long and hard to find a companion to share his time and love with, and finally, he found her. The king remarried, the fairest woman in the land, but she was vain, cruel to his servants, and cold to his people. But the king was blinded by his love, and so was blinded to her wickedness. His people protested, but the king could not hear them, deafened by her sweet voice."The visage of a woman shimmers into view beside a forlorn king, her beauty illuminating the room with lovely silks and gemtones. The clouds leer closer to the little kingdom, and the rain falls ever harder.

"And so, under the council of the new Queen, the little kingdom slowly declined, for she was greedy and unkind, and with it, so too did the poor king's health. He became old, and sickly. His shoulders hunched, and his hands shook. He began to forget, and a mist settled over his eyes. They called the king Mad, for he raved of seeing butterflies where there were none, and sang lyrics to songs that he could not recall how he came to know them."

The king's form slowly shrivels. His hair grays, the colors drain from his eyes and his skin. He hobbles to his throne, as if a puppet on a marionette. "Finally, the new queen, lovely and wicked as she was, declared that the king was too unwell to lead his people."

The Queen slides the poor king from focus, and he becomes but dust and motes of light that flutter to reshape the room. It fills slowly with people, the common folk of the little kingdom, butchers and bakers and candlestick makers. They watch the queen with terrified rapture.

"She proclaimed that, should no heir come within three days, the throne would then fall to her. On the first day, no one came forward. Nor the second day. Finally, on the third day, as the queen sat within her throne room, the old crone came, and with her, the king's daughter who had been whisked away so long ago. Appalled, the Queen denied the old crone. 'This cannot be the king's daughter', she said. 'What proof have you that she may rule this land?'"

"The old crone smiled. 'She will prove herself to the people,' she said. 'Assign her three labors, and if they are completed, the crown is hers.' The queen knew of the old crone, and knew to refuse her would be unwise, for the old crone was powerful, and so the queen agreed. 'She must dwell seven days within the dark forest without food nor water,' she commanded."

Before the audience, the little princess stands, her visage as radiant as the sun, and gentle as the moon. She stands tall, proud, undaunted.

"At that, the old crone smiled. 'It will be done,' she said, and so the little princess turned and left. She was escorted deep into the forest, and blindfolded so she could not remember which way was home, for the Queen did not want her to return. The queen's men traveled to the deepest and darkest place they could find, and left the little princess alone in the dark woods, among the monsters and beasts."

Images of the forest overtake the room in a whirl of shadow, thick, pale mist blanketing the floor.

"Each day passed, and the people of the small kingdom lost a little more hope each day, but the old crone only smiled, telling any who asked, 'Wait and see'. Then, on the seventh day, the little princess returned amidst a flock of songbirds, alive and unharmed. The queen was outraged, but she could say naught, and so instead she issued the next labor. 'She must face the Great Wolf, and end its bloody campaign in the farmlands within seven days,' she commanded."

"Again, the old crone smiled. 'It will be done,' she said, and so the little princess turned and left. She was escorted to the mouth of the Great Wolf's cave, and left there with only a knife to defend herself, for the Queen wished the Wolf to devour her."

"Each day passed, and again the people of the small kingdom lost a little more hope each day, but the old crone only smiled, telling any who asked, 'Wait and see'. Then, on the seventh day, the little princess returned astride the tamed Wolf's back, alive and unharmed. The queen was incensed, but still she could say naught, and so instead she issued the final labor. 'She must pull forth the blessed sword from the tomb of the Fell Drake within seven days,' she commanded."

"For the third and final time, the old crone smiled. 'It will be done,' she said, and so the little princess turned and left. This time, the Queen was sure she had won. The Fell Drake was a wicked creature, corrupted by the hate of men and the shadows between the bones of the earth. She was escorted to the Fell Drake's lair without a weapon, and left her alone to face the Drake."

"Each day passed, and once more the people of the small kingdom lost a little more hope each day, but the old crone only smiled, telling any who asked, 'Wait and see'. This time, the Queen knew she had won, for on the dawn of the seventh day, the little princess had not returned. She stood from her throne, and pointed in glee at the old crone. 'Your princess has failed!' she declared, and before all she revealed her true self."

Before their eyes, the queen transforms. She grows taller, her muscles expand, her eyes gleam. Gnashing teeth form a pale white crescent cheshire smile through clouds of thick black smoke.

"Her hair become snowy, and her eyes great and yellow. Her skin like the night sky, her feet cloven and her crown horned: the witch of the deadlands, with black veils and fingers of writhing snakes. 'This kingdom is mine!' she declared. As the people began to wail in protest and in fear, the doors of the throne room threw open and a voice rose above the chorus. 'Hold! For no errand was failed!' said the old crone, and all turned to see the little princess, standing in the doorway."

The door flies open, and in spills brilliant sunlight, and from it the witch shies away. "In her left hand, a blade, as fierce and hot as the sun, as luminous and swift as the moon. In her right, the Fell Drake's head, and she threw it at the witch's feet. 'Leave my kingdom,' the little princess said, her voice carrying the power of the sun, the grace of the moon. 'Or it shall be your head upon the floor.' The witch laughed."

"Without another word, the little princess charged at the witch, her blessed sword in-hand. The people cried out in fear as they watched on, unable to move for the power of every blow. 'Help her!' they cried out. But still, the old crone only smiled, telling them only, 'Wait and see.'"

Bursts of brilliant light flash and crackle, reds and blues and golds flickering and fading, the throne room filling with black smoke and white light.

"Then, with a final mighty swing, the little princess struck down the witch, sundering her in the middle of the throne room. The witch wailed, her screams pierced the skies, and she was gone. The little princess turned to face her people, and for her they cheered." Bursts of color flare into the air, fireworks and sparklers and streamers.

The image fades to pale silver, the little princess standing before the people and taking her throne. "The next day she was crowned Queen, and she became the wisest, and the noblest queen ever to bless the kingdom."

"The end."