#isles and cryptid however

[tadc-survival-isles]

I need to keep Survival Isles on this blog but I keep forgetting because they are so silly--

Anyway the recent posts about the Wet Cat Trio™ on my main reminded me I had this stupid idea yesterday that I wanted to draw.

( Cryptid Jax belongs to @sunifixation and Remains Jax belongs to @rorydrawsandwrites )

The thing I'm referencing:

[glimmerspirals]

belos headcanons part 2 bc i still can't bring myself to draw

he looks good on paintings and reasonably fine on video, but you will NEVER find a photo of him that doesn't look like cryptid footage.

huge gossiper

can be sneaky as hell when he wants to. loves appearing in random places and scaring people when bored.

the only things he'd been eating for the past few decades are palismen and boiling isles' equivalent of energy drinks

there was a period where he was obsessed with finding an angel after learning that all of humanity's mythical creatures come from the demon realm. also a bit of faith crisis

may or may not have had an encounter with the demon hunters while in his cursed form

no one can understand his handwriting except collector and kikimora. hunter gets some of it, but mostly relies on context n other stuff

high pain tolerance

do NOT give him spicy food, he'll explode

intentionally nerfed the oracle coven, banning and restricting use of many spells, so his plans wouldn't be found out.

not a fan of bright lights. prefers having torches as main source of light in his castle. for a more menacing atmosphere, obviously.

I do think that while belos believes he's superior to witches he considers himself lower than a human for being 'tainted' w magic n other sinful practices. He also believed that destroying the boiling isles would make up for that, but since he failed...

he would be good at programming

belos be like 'there's nothing wrong with me, it's just the curse' and the curse is also an undiagnosed mental illness

seems like the type to randomly drop an insane story from his past and never elaborate

goes limp whenever he's picked up. he never stopped doing this since childhood. hobody knows, however, since, you know. emperor and stuff.

ugly crier

[astrolavas]

Ok ok, but now is turn for the grimwalker HCs!! Give us the creature👀

!!!!! BET

once a grimwalker is "formed" they simply turn mostly organic, just like how palismen are live animals instead of wood (when activated). so even though the ingredients are still THERE technically, they appear as just like... normal stuff, so grimwalkers are mostly biologically the species that their ortet was, almost indistinguishable (hair is hair, skin is skin, there's blood flow despite there not initially being a heart, the galdorstone is there but it functions very similarly to a heart, etc etc) and yet sometimes the original ingredients' features somehow still "show up" in unique-to-grimwalkers ways. ㅤ

i imagine grimwalkers used to be like a more popular/frequent occurence in ancient demon realm. the process of creating a grimwalker was like a sacred magic ritual, only allowed in special cases (like maybe if a witch lost a child early and wasn't able to have another one, sth of the sort) so it was still very rare even back then and would have to be approved of by most of the community. however, then the tradition died off as ingredients started becoming more scarce, and most of knowledge about it was eventually lost to time. nowadays, grimwalkers are considered to be an extinct species as well as an urban legend/myth by boiling isles habitants, like a "supposedly extinct but there's no certainty if they ever even actually existed" situation (without taking hunter and his possibly-openly-a-grimwalker-in-the-future thing into account just yet). the books we saw hunter read in labyrinth runners have some right information but also lots of misinformation in them, since they're far removed from the direct source, based on only tidbits of actual info, and have been written by witches/demons, with no grimwalkers consulted (obviously); lots of it is speculation, and lots of it is wrong. (i imagine the only actual, entirely truthful info is in those scrolls and books we saw in belos' grimwalker lab, but even that isn't fully complete; and belos wouldn't have wanted to share it with the public anyway, for obvious reasons) additionally, i feel like grimwalkers have a sort of cryptid-like reputation in the boiling isles' pop culture. there are stories made up about them. there are teens making pink-eyed grimwalker ocs on the demon realm equivalent of deviantart and making up things like "grimwalkers can shoot lasers out of their eyes" or "they can raise the dead with their thoughts" LMAO. hunter gets a headache when he discovers all that. ㅤ

grimwalkers are semi-immune to boiling water. the selkidomus scales give them a lot of immunity so boiling water is not actually lethal to them but still, being exposed to boiling rain for a long while or full-on diving into the boiling sea may hurt a bit and prolonged contact with boiling water may leave them with blisters/burns. ㅤ

when grimwalkers' skin is wet for a long time, it gets somewhat scaley ??? scales-resembling texture ?? instead of just being pruney/wrinkled. when dry, their fingertips have a sort of wood-rings-y look. ㅤ

grimwalkers' hair naturally grows incredibly fast, but especially when they spend lots of time in the sun. plant magic may also affect its growth positively. ㅤ

grimwalkers' eyes are reflective and can glow/shine in the dark. ㅤ

when it comes to human-based grimwalkers (the golden guards), sometimes their ears would turn out rounder and human-looking, sometimes they'd look pointier but still not fully witch-like. belos preferred them to be round cuz obviously he preferred "caleb" to be human-looking, but with time he started modifying some grimwalkers' naturally round ears to be pointier just so that they could blend in easier and so they'd believe that they're witches too. he'd "mold" their ears during early creation or sometimes modify/cut them after, like he did his. (hunter's ears are naturally pointy and generally look like a witch's ears but, upon closer inspection, the details of his ears differ from a normal witch's ears juuuust slightly) (ears of the grimwalker that we saw in ftf were fully round because belos was counting on this one to be the golden guard post-day of unity, seemingly brought up as human and in the human realm) ㅤ

just like stonesleepers, grimwalkers often have a slightly sensitive spot behind their ears. ㅤㅤㅤ

palismen can somewhat sense that grimwalkers are also made of palistrom wood so they naturally cling to them more (big win for mr palisman enthusiast/carver hunter owlhouse!) ㅤㅤ

again, when it comes to specifically caleb-based/the golden guard grimwalkers, i can imagine that belos' first attempts were....... FAR from perfect. since i imagine he got all the information from different incomplete ancient scrolls, there were many things he had to come up with and re-discover himself. the very first grimwalkers he made probably didn't even survive for longer than a few minutes/hours. and when they did survive, i feel like the ingredients used were much more distinguishable at first too, not fully transformed into their organic counterparts; like for example some grimwalkers had more selkidomus-like or stonesleeper-like features, or were visibly wooden in some places, etc etc. i feel like belos didn't succeed in making a fully functional, stable and human/witch-looking grimwalker until he met the collector, and then did so thanks to their help. ㅤ

grimwalkers are already "harvestable" at early infancy and that's when you're "supposed" to unbury them, but they can technically emerge at any age (they just have to stay underground and age for the amount of time). i feel like there were also times when belos tried to speed up the process and age his grimwalkers up faster so that they'd be of use to him quicker, but that would also often result in the grimwalkers being unstable; so not really a good idea. (i envision that hunter was probably one of the youngest- if not the youngest- grimwalker belos had ever made, and that's also why he had high hopes for him lasting longer than the others; because he manipulated him since early childhood, starting in his most pivotal developmental years) ㅤ

i like to believe that the reason why flapjack was able to save hunter in thanks to them was because hunter's a grimwalker. if hunter had been a normal witch or a human, i don't think flapjack could do anything to help. (something abt the thing that hunter was ashamed of and hated abt himself ending up being the exact thing that makes saving him possible... you know?) ㅤ

for specifically caleb-based grimwalkers, i imagine that since they're mostly human in biology, they might also have issues with eating some particular demon realm food. not as much as luz of course, since they're not completely human + after years of living in the demon realm and basically eating ONLY demon realm food i can imagine your stomach would get mostly used to it, acclimated and all, but it probably still could result in some problems and discomfort. ㅤ

because of their stonesleeper lungs, grimwalkers are usually pretty still and motionless sleepers. they breathe very slowly when sleeping. ㅤ

you can't make a grimwalker out of a grimwalker. you can try, but the magic simply won't work correctly.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

I Didn't Know You Were Keeping Count — Part IX: Slaughterfish

ao3

masterlist

first | previous | next

Author's note: Happy Monday! Please accept this chapter as a distraction as many of us in the US face inclement weather that's a little too Skyrim-esque for comfort.

Tag list:

@ravenmind2001 @incorrectskyrimquotes @uwuthrad @dark-brohood @owl-screeches @binaominagata @constantfyre @kurakumi @stormbeyondreality @singleteapot @aardvark-123 @blossom-adventures @argisthebulwark @inkysqueed @average-crazy-fangirl @the-tuzen-chronicles @shivering-isles-cryptid @orangevanillabubbles

Hey! If you want to be on the tag list, just ask! I'd be happy to add you! ✨

Content Warning: Verbal abuse; mature language; Bishop being Bishop.

#######

Contrary to her previous misgivings, Leara found that she could stomach showing her face in Windhelm again. It didn’t hurt that she wore the cowl up over her mouth and hood over her hair, effectively concealing her identity to most passersby. She prayed to Akatosh, Mara, and Kynareth that no one remembered her involvement in that circus of a performance at the palace! If she didn’t already have nightmares from the war and her battle with Alduin, then Leara was certain the mortification she’d felt under Alec’s attentions would haunt her sleep. 

Talk about a night she’d never forget! If only she could!

Well, if only she could forget most of it, she reflected as she and Bishop made their way across the bridge. That night she put to rest at least one of her insecurities concerning Ulfric Stormcloak: The fear that he would recognize her for who she really was, not as Dragonborn, but as an officer of the Aldmeri Dominion. That was worth something, for however brief a time the relief had lasted.

It was just her luck that a new fear soon took its place, one more solid and present. She snubbed his letter. For the hundredth time since, Leara regretted not opening it when she’d had the chance. Now it was lost, and whatever important business Ulfric Stormcloak had with her went ignored. Would he agree to speak to her about the peace council after she slighted him? Leara was at a loss. Truthfully, she was unfamiliar with how letters and summons from jarls worked in Skyrim. Was it very different from High Rock, where ignoring a court summons could mean a day in the stocks, or worse?

“You’re fidgeting again.”

“Sorry.”

Bishop shot her a look, but Leara was too preoccupied to try and unravel it. In fact, she’d been preoccupied since before they left Whiterun. To her unsurprise, Bishop made his awareness of this quite vocal. During the nights on the road, while she sat beside the fire, twisting her rings around raw fingers and worrying over the peace council, he would sit across from her, sometimes snarking off, sometimes shaking his head. Every night, without fail, he offered her a better distraction and every time, Leara refused. She knew all too well what Bishop’s idea of a “better distraction” was, and she was too busy to play his little game of musical bedrolls. 

The grey skies to the northeast threatened foul weather from the Sea of Ghosts. Leara found they reflected her mood: Dark, worrisome, and held in place by a few well-placed bobby pins and armor straps. 

Between her and Bishop, Karnwyr plodded, his head low. Every once and a while, the wolf would catch Leara’s eye, and the weight of his care would strike her. On those nights when she worried and Bishop whined, Karnwyr would curl up beside her, his now-familiar presence a comforting heat against her leg. Whoever coined the phrase, “Silence is golden,” must’ve had a dog like Karnwyr, loyal, protective, and companionable to a fault. If anything good came from her keeping Bishop around, it was Karnwyr. 

The gates were closed. Foot traffic around Windhelm was scarce; Leara hadn’t seen a single wagon since they passed through the miller’s hamlet early that morning. With another cautious glance at the darkening clouds, Leara approached the gate, Bishop dragging his feet behind her. One of the city guards gave her a nod as she went to open one of the doors, but otherwise, all was quiet. 

It set Leara’s teeth on edge. 

Windhelm was as worn and grey as before, cast in shadows from the approaching storm. Inside the gates, people scurried back and forth, not hurried, but none seemed willing to stop and engage in curbside conversations with neighbors or strangers. Thunder rumbled near the mountain’s head, punctuating the dull crunch of feet on stone and permafrost. Something loosened in Leara’s chest. The city looked as tired as she felt.

“Black mood,” Bishop observed next to her. “You’d’ve thought a bunch of Stormcloaks would like a little rain.”

“No one likes dismal weather,” Leara muttered back. She slipped Bishop a small coin purse. “Now, would you be so kind as to go handle our accommodations? I’ve business at the palace, and even if that doesn’t take long, I don’t think we’ll be leaving until that storm passes.” 

Bishop stilled, the coin purse loose in his palm. “You have business in the palace? That’s why we’re here?” At Leara’s affirmation, he threw his head back with a groan. “That’s real funny, your ladyship, because I could’ve sworn we had this conversation before!”

With one hand propped against her hip, Leara quirked a delicate dark eyebrow at the ranger, a silent, “Are you serious?” in the draw of her mouth. 

“I just mean,” Bishop went on, unbothered, “you know I don’t want you around that religious freak!”

Lifting a silent prayer to Mara for patience, Leara shook her head. “Careful, Bishop. Just remember that you’re in his city, surrounded by his supporters. You have a certain, ah, je ne sais quoi about you that sets people off and a comment like that’s toeing the line.”

“A certain what? – No, forget it! Listen—” Bishop caught Leara’s free hand, pulling her to him. Leara found herself chest plate to leather jacket with Bishop on the streets of Windhelm, surrounded by people and overlooked like a tree in the forest. Sleet began to fall, brushing the rooftops and stone with a bitter wet gruel, but Leara didn’t see it for the blaze in Bishop’s gaze. “Listen, you’re a good girl. I get that! But you keep playing with fire every time you go out of your way to help someone! Those old windbags, that nutjob in the ice burg, Jarl Temper Tantrum – and now you want to skip up to Ulfric damn Stormcloak and share friendship bracelets with him! Are you out of your damn mind? Wait! Don’t answer that! Oblivion knows you’re a mad woman!”

“Are you done?”

“Am I – are you even listening to me?”

Leara yanked her hand from his. “Yes, actually! And now it’s your turn to listen to me for once! I am the Dragonborn! By the grace of Akatosh—”

“Oh, here we go again with that Divines bull—”

“—by the grace of Akatosh, I am Dragonborn, and if that means I need to meet with the An-Xileel of all things, then I will bloody well do so!”

“The who—” 

“My muse!” 

In rare harmony, Leara and Bishop groaned.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Leara sighed, her forehead pressed into her palm. 

“You’re the moron who just had to shout about being Dragonborn to the rooftops!” hissed Bishop. 

“Shouted? Hardly! I—”

And then Alec was next to them, sleet weighing down the giant plume of his puffed-up hat. He was wrapped in an oversized fur coat that looked suspiciously like snow fox. Leara gave half a thought to calculating just how many little foxes it would take to make such a thing. Hadn’t she seen a similar coat on the Countess of Bruma years ago? Then Alec snatched up her hand, cutting off her calculations.

“Dragonborn, you’ve returned! I knew you would, of course. A vision like yourself knows in her heart that her radiance must be captured like sunlight through a prism!” His hands were unbearably soft, Leara noticed, wondering where the calluses were from his lute. “You need me to focus your beauty and heroism for the world to see! I can assure you that I’m up for the challenge! Just say the word! I will stay right here, ready and willing by your side!”

“I bet you are,” Bishop sneered, batting Alec’s arm so that the bard released his hold on Leara. “Now get lost! The grown-ups are talking.”

Alec reeled back, as if only just noticing Bishop for the first time. Standing between the two, Leara just restrained the urge to face palm. “I see you’re still hounding her like a lost puppy, savage,” sniffed the so-called Prince of Song in distaste. Unfortunately for him, the heat was lost in the uncanny stillness of his sculpted face. “Still looking for a bone?”

“I’ll give you a bone,” growled Bishop, “right up your scrawny brown ass!”

Seriously? Must they do this in public? Out on the street, of all places? Behind her, Karnwyr grunted, a near-silent agreement. At least someone had manners, even if it was the actual animal!

Alec marched right up to Bishop, his too-perfect nose pointed right at the scruff on the ranger’s chin. “Is that the best you can do, you untamed wild man? What do you know of treating a woman such as the Dragonborn like the goddess of perfection she is?”

“A thing or two more than you, you sniveling brat!”

Leara crept back, first one step and then another. Neither Bishop nor Alec noticed, so engrossed in their dualling match that they didn’t see the object of their argument walk away. Any moment now, she expected them to stop brandying words and switch to a more, ah, biological weapon. Whatever. She had palaces to go to and jarls to see. 

Karnwyr needed no prompting to follow her as Leara ducked down a side street and through a back alleyway. Snow mounds lined the broken stones, crusting the foundations of buildings with a frozen blend of frost and dirt. What wasn’t packed into the corners, swept aside by busy feet, was strewn across the narrow alley in streaks and banks. The grips on her plated boots pierced through the icy mixture, leaving thin, dotted footprints in her wake. Leara wouldn’t put it past Bishop to track her and Karnwyr once he got bored with Alec – or either when either realized that she left – but she hoped he waited long enough for her to convince Ulfric to attend the peace council before he came to rain on her parade. 

Akatosh, but one would think Bishop was her overprotective father, the way he carried on!

At the end of the alley was a drop-off; the alley stretched between two buildings set on a lower tier before leading directly into a wider street. The husky scent of burning incense wafted by, teasing Leara’s nose with musk and spice. Oh! This was the Grey Quarter, wasn’t it? 

Leara slipped down from the ledge, and once down, waved for Karnwyr to jump after her. Emerging from the alley’s end, she found that the streets were different from those in the rest of the city. Though snow and slush still lined the stones, bright lanterns of crimson, maroon, and sienna blazed on the eaves of buildings, seemingly untouched by the increment weather. Many of the structures were built from wood, heavy boreal hardwoods harvested from the slopes of the Winterhold Mountains. Some bore tribal markings, remnants carried over from the Ashlander tribes Leara knew once roamed the isle of Vvardenfell before the Red Year devastated much of the island, driving longstanding natives into exile. Interspersed with these were House banners: Hlaalu, primarily, though she recognized the armored crab of Redoran on a few, as well as the twisting roots of a Telvanni banner at the end of the road. 

This must be the main street through the district, she thought, making a slow spin, taking it in. Now where did she go?

Clairvoyance glittered at the end of her fingertips before the sound of her name being called sent the ethereal tether back to Magnus in a wisp of vapor. Leara jerked around.

“Jolinar Aren?”

And it was the Archmage of Winterhold’s daughter, standing there across the road with wide eyes and a fried pastry dangling between gloved fingers. The sudden ice that gripped Leara’s lungs at the thought of Bishop finding her so soon was banished at once: Most of the time, she wasn’t even sure he remembered her name – actually, she knew he didn’t, because she heard him call her Ellen to the barkeep when they stopped at the inn in Heljarchen after leaving the Tower of Mzark. That should bother her, shouldn’t it? she realized, watching Jolinar Aren wave her over.

Burying the thought in the growing mountain of internalized feelings she didn’t want to deal with yet, Leara joined the golden-haired Dunmer under a flame-patterned awning. Then Leara got a good, proper look at the mage: Whereas in Winterhold, Jolinar wore dark, dusty purple robes glittering with enchantments, now she wore worn leather armor, the faded black broken up by glimpses of pale pinks from her otherwise traditional Dunmeri wrap blouse. A knit scarf was tucked around her neck, and a hood was thrown back off her morning-bright hair. After all, even in summer, northern Skyrim was ruled by harsh weather and freezing temperatures. 

“You can’t imagine how excited I am to see you!” Jolinar was saying. “When you went into the ice fields after the scroll, well, Urag figured you and that boy toy of yours were as good as dead!”

“Boy toy?” echoed Leara. 

Jolinar waggled pale ashen fingers. “Bit pretty, isn’t he? Where is he, anyway? Actually, I’d rather know if you ever found the scroll. Urag and I have a bet running, you see. He thinks you wouldn’t find one. I disagreed, naturally! So?”

Leara gaped at her, then shut her mouth. “I, I did find what I was looking for. It’s at, it’s safe,” she amended quickly. As safe as any priceless artifact could be under the guard of an ancient dragon, she mused, recalling how the Elder Scroll remained at the Throat of the World with Paarthurnax. Yes, that was the safest place for it.

An excited, “Oh!” chirped out of Jolinar. Leara couldn’t think of her as anything but chipper, sunny and cheerful like blackberry wine put up in summer and brought out during the holidays. 

Thoughts of the Throat of the World recalled Leara to the task at hand. Her meeting with the Jarl. She almost dreaded this meeting with Ulfric more than she had the one with Balgruuf! “Pardon, but Jolinar? Do you happen to know the way to the Palace of the Kings?”

“Ah,” Jolinar quirked her head to the side. “Yes, of course. Follow me,” and with her half-eaten pastry, she directed their path down the winding street. “Dragonborn business?” 

“You could say that,” Leara offered a tentative but thankful smile. Despite all Bishop’s badgering, she still hadn’t explained the purpose behind their visit to Windhelm or the pending trip to Solitude. Knowing him, he’d snap out something that would lead to an argument not dissimilar to the one simmering between them before Alec’s oh so timely interruption earlier. But Jolinar Aren? Teeth kneaded the end of her tongue, then Leara, nodding to herself, her decision made. 

Quickening her pace, Leara waved her fingers for Karnwyr and moved to walk beside Jolinar. The blonde led her down a short stair, passed a porch lined with earthenware painted in fiery reds and blazing oranges. Whereas the rest of Windhelm seemed to reflect the hardy yet frostbitten spirit of the Nords, the Grey Quarter was lit with the ancestral fires of the Dunmer, kept burning even in their exile. Respect for their resilience and defiance squeezed Leara’s heart, though not uncomfortably.

“The Greybeards are calling for a peace council,” she murmured, voice pitched low enough so as not to be overheard by the occasional person on the street. There weren’t many out; Dunmer were less inclined than Nords to brave the dreary conditions of a north-born storm just for a bit of shopping. 

To her credit, Jolinar’s only reaction to this apparently unprecedented move was a quick dart shot from garnet eyes toward Leara. “Then you’ve got your task cut out for you,” she sighed.

“Tell me about it.”

The street curved toward the left. The houses there were rather large, taller and terraced compared to those deeper in the quarter. House and tribe banners hung from windows and balconies, creating a dusk and dawn patchwork against the otherwise drab canvas of wood and stone. From a shuttered window, the faint trill of a pipe slipped out, entwining with the droning of an unknown string instrument. From a window across the way, the tantalizing scent of baking bread teased at her nose, richer and more savory than the buttery smells she was used to from bakeries in High Rock. 

“They were manor houses, once,” Jolinar explained, noting Leara’s interest. On one of the lower balconies, an old Dunmer wrapped in a thin shawl sat, smoking a bone pipe. On spying Jolinar, he sent her a jaunty wave. She returned it, no less enthusiastic, before continuing: “They’re mostly tenements now. Almost anyone rich enough to afford a manor in Windhelm can afford to move to Blacklight.”

“I didn’t think the Jarl’s steward handled apartment leases.”

“He doesn’t. All the court cares about are taxes and that we keep our heads down. The Dunmer here answer first to a council. It’s not that different to the one back in Morrowind, only a thousand times smaller and less ostentatious, not to mention,” added Jolinar, “Ambarys runs a tight ship. No in-fighting, or at least, none that the Nords are allowed to see.” This last she said in a conspiratorial whisper, a grin curling her frosted berry mouth that Leara couldn’t help but share.

Suddenly she wished that she met Jolinar before Bishop. She was cheerful and full of local knowledge. With Jolinar, there would be no brooding silences or sarcastic remarks; instead, good humor and wry smiles would liven up the bleak travels across Skyrim. And, Leara thought ruefully, another mage would be more likely to understand her methods. But, no, she couldn’t blame Bishop’s attitude on his mundanity. Goodness knows there were plenty of mundane people untouched by magic who were far kinder and certainly more tolerable than Bishop usually was! Regardless, Leara was certain that with Jolinar, there would be nothing but lighthearted companionship in place of Bishop’s advances. 

“Up through here,” Jolinar was saying, turning sharply to the left. Leara hurried after her, up the narrow-wide stairs and out onto the Avenue of Valor. High above, the Palace of the Kings rose as a mountain unto itself against the ever-darkening backdrop of storm clouds. Leara prayed to Kynareth that it wasn’t an omen for the direction her meeting would take. “And here we are,” Jolinar said, clearly not as bothered as Leara was. 

The Dragonborn set her shoulders, her spine stiff. “Thank you—”

But Jolinar was gone. 

Blinking, Leara glanced back at the stairs winding down into the Grey Quarter, then at the towering pillars marking the avenue from the maze of streets crisscrossing the Stone Quarter. But the golden Dunmer was nowhere in sight. A little putout, Leara strode toward the palace.

“I’m here to see the Jarl,” she said to the guards standing sentinel by the doors, her voice frost. The guards glanced at one another in silent communication. Their cage helmets weren’t much different from those worn by the Whiterun guards, Leara noted as one nodded, stiff, and the other pulled open one of the doors. “Thank you,” she said, striding passed with Karnwyr on her heels.

Neither said a word, and Leara wondered if they knew who she was.

Immediately, she decided it didn’t matter. Less chance of embarrassment.

The great hall was as cold and imposing as on her previous visit without the added benefit of dinner to warm the atmosphere. Once again, she sought out the throne, only to find it empty. Behind her, the door shut with a hard snap! that eclipsed her weary sigh. He could never make her job easy, could he?

Out of a side passage stepped the steward, and a sense of déjà vu tapped Leara on the forehead as, upon spying her, he made his way across the hall.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” he asked, eyeing her silver plate and katana warily.

Oh, of course. Whereas Jolinar met her before in armor, the steward, Jorleif, had only met her once, and then in a dress with her hair down. Leara pushed the cowl down and, throwing back the hood, offered the man a petal thin smile. “Yes, I was hoping to speak to Jarl Ulfric. Is he available?”

Surprise colored Jorleif’s face. Giving his long mustache an absent tug, he nodded. “Jarl Ulfric is with his generals, but I’m sure he has a moment to spare for the Dragonborn. This way.”

“Of course.” And beckoning to Karnwyr, Leara followed Jorleif as he led her through a different passage than the one leading to the gallery of kings. This one was much shorter, and opened into a low, brightly lit room crowded with barrels and chests. Weapon and armor racks cradling shining steel were clustered around the small windows, dim and frosted over against the increment weather. But these drew little attention away from the room’s primary feature. Dominating the center was a heavy table, strewn with parchment rolls and loose-leaf pages that no doubt contained reports on Imperial movements and the latest on resources and recruitment. But the most striking feature was the great map of Skyrim, marked with a number of flags in red and blue, which denoted the movements of the Imperial and Stormcloak militaries. This was the war room, the heart of the Stormcloaks’ campaign, and Leara just walked right in. As if she belonged.

Perhaps, because she was the Dragonborn, some might think she did. Or at least Jorleif seemed to think so. She wondered if General Tullius and the Legion might feel similarly when she arrived in Solitude. 

“Jorleif, what is this?”

“The Dragonborn, my Jarl.”

Leara’s gaze sprang from the table to the occupants of the room. Two men were crowded at one end of the table, both shrouded in heavy furs that made their resemblance to bears uncanny. Yet, it was the bear himself that drew Leara’s attention. Lifting her chin in a manner painfully reminiscent of Her, Leara met his storm cloud stare across the room where he stood, hands braced against the table. Once again Ulfric Stormcloak was before her, and she would weather the gale. 

The bob of her head was a measured motion that never cut the view she held of Ulfric’s face. In the mixed torchlight and pale grey light pushing through the snow-crusted windows, he gave off none of the tempered humor that surrounded him on the night of the performance. And yet, there was a quiet light in his eyes, the promise of sun after the rain. For some reason, that eased the tension in Leara’s shoulders.

“Dragonborn, yes,” Ulfric tilted his head, a small motion that carried all the invitation required. “Your presence is timely. Once again, I didn’t expect you, and yet here you are, alone. Good. That will be all, Jorleif,” he added, and with a murmur of respect, the steward left. 

“You may disagree, Jarl Ulfric, after you hear what I came to say,” she said, eyeing the war plans strewn along the table. A shift in her periphery pulled her attention to one of the generals, the one wearing a bear’s head on his own. He was watching her. Nonchalant, Leara continued, “I come bearing a message from the Greybeards.”

Ulfric straightened, “So the dark state of our homeland has finally drawn their attention from the skies.” His mouth twisted, sardonic. “Tell me, what do they say?”

 Giving Ulfric her full attention, Leara cleared her throat. “They request that you attend a peace council at High Hrothgar—”

“A what?” coughed the man with the bear helm.

“—to address the dragons plaguing Skyrim—”

“They cannot be serious! The Empire is tearing Skyrim apart and the Greybeards call for peace?” the helmless general snarled, slamming his fist on the table. Leara jolted back. 

“Yrsarald!” Ulfric snapped, “Mark how you speak. The Greybeards are not to be disrespected.”

“Yes, my Jarl,” Yrsarald said, though he didn’t appear cowed at all.

Turning back to Leara, Ulfric continued, “I do not question the Greybeards lightly. I am well aware that the dragons are a growing threat. But there is the political climate to consider. As long as some of the Jarls aren’t fully committed to supporting me as High King, I can’t agree to any peace talks. I cannot afford to weaken my stance before them. Not unless Tullius himself agrees to be there.”

Resentment and respect wound together inside Leara in a bittersweet union. Politics. Everything under Magnus came back to bloody politics and bleeding shows of strength between opposing factions. Peace begged a hard price, and Leara was exhausted trying to cover the cost. “Politics will soon lose all power if the dragons aren’t dealt with. You may wish to reconsider.”

“Why is that?” asked the helmeted general.

“Alduin has returned.”

He swore, and Yrsarald again slammed his fist on the table. Ulfric remained still, almost stiffening. “Alduin? The World-Eater himself? Then if the tales and songs are true . . .”

“They are,” Leara said, breath quickening as the memories of smoke and blood clogged her nose and coated her mouth. The battle at the Throat of the World blazed in shards of painful memory across her mind’s eye. “It was Alduin at Helgen.”

“Was it?” Ulfric’s storm-blue eyes clouded, likely lost in recollections.

“If Alduin has returned, as you say, then we’re all doomed anyway,” Yrsarald grunted. “But suppose you’re wrong, Dragonborn. What use is there in talking to the Empire? They’re being devastated by the dragons.”

“So are we!” the bear helmed general growled, his mustache twitching.

Leara bit back a sneer just as Karnwyr bristled beside her. Is the return of Alduin really that impossible to accept? “If left to their own devices, the dragons will destroy all Skyrim, Imperial and Stormcloak alike!”

“You’ve made your point, Dragonborn,” Ulfric said, raising a hand to silence Yrsarald in turn. He frowned, troubled. “So, the World-Eater has returned and the Greybeards believe the answer is to call for peace. But war or peace, Alduin will consume us all just the same. Everything is already lost.” 

“Not as long as I’m here,” Leara heard herself say. Then Ulfric was eyeing her, and the weight of her destiny pressed down on her shoulders. Did he doubt her ability to face Alduin? To match the World-Eater in battle and bring an end to the crisis? If so, then she couldn’t blame him. After her muck-up of the meeting at the Throat of the World, Leara knew her chances of victory were narrow, if they existed at all. But still, she was doom-driven. “There is hope.” Though she didn’t have much hope for herself, Leara would give it to the people of Skyrim if she could. 

Ulfric was silent. The moment stretched on, then, “Galmar, what say you?”

The helmeted general, Galmar, folded his arms, a dark look on his face. “Talking to the Empire is worse than a waste of time. No good could ever come from it. But,” he went on, “no good ever came letting sleeping dragons ie, either. If the Dragonborn here thinks she can handle the World-Eater, who are we to stop her?”

“Sooner the dragons are gone, the sooner we put down the Imperials ourselves,” Yrsarald muttered, earning an “Aye,” from Galmar. 

With a tired smile, Ulfric nodded to himself. “I won’t refuse the Greybeards’ request,” he said. “And I’ll give Tullius one last chance to quit Skyrim with his tail between his legs while I’m at it. He has agreed to attend?” he asked Leara suddenly.

“Well—” 

A scuffle of boots in the corridor cut Leara off as a man appeared in the doorway. Wearing the blue and steel that the Windhelm guard shared with the Stormcloak soldiers, Leara’s attention was pulled to the open face of his helmet where a brilliant red sheen on his left cheek anticipated a vivid bruise. His eyes on Ulfric, the guard bowed his head in difference. “My Jarl, Generals,” he said. He cast a glance at Leara in her silver armor and frowned to himself.

“Speak, Calder,” Ulfric said, snapping the guard’s attention to him. 

Calder bowed his head again, “My Jarl, I’m sorry for the interruption, but there’s a situation in the jail, and Captain Logi said to get you.”

Lifting a brow, Ulfric’s mouth drew a thoughtful line just as Galmar said, “Logi doesn’t usually have a problem knocking scum back down where it belongs. What’s happened?”

Calder cleared his throat, his eyes darting back to Leara and then to Karnwyr before trailing back to the Dragonborn. When she tilted her chin, watching him, the guard dropped his gaze to the floor. “There was an . . . altercation at the gates not twenty minutes ago.”

Dread pooled in the pit of Leara’s stomach. Surely not . . .?

“The guardsmen on duty broke it up, but not before some bard got beat in the nose. We hauled the assailant in, threw him in a cell to cool him down, if you follow, my Jarl.” Facing the guard as she was, Leara caught the slight upturn of Ulfric’s mouth from the corner of her eye. So, the Windhelm jail was as cold as a Frost Atronach’s bits, then. Lovely. “He got a good hit in on me before we got him in, though.” Ulfric’s mouth fell, and Calder quieted.

“Is that all?” Galmar asked, gruff. “What’s there to involve Jarl Ulfric over?”

“The man we brought in, he won’t stop shouting for the Dragonborn. Says she’ll have something to say about us locking him up. Says she’ll make us ‘pay.’”

Her muscles tensed. No. No bloody way! That complete and absolute cretin! That utter idiot! Did he really attack Alec? In the street where everyone and their ancestor could see it? And then he threatened the guards. Akatosh, but it was a wonder she hadn’t heard Bishop’s caterwauling as he was hauled in! Ice stung her palms and her teeth clenched. Did he honestly believe her purpose in Windhelm carried so little weight that he could antagonize the city guard without a second thought? Did he ever stop to think about the consequences or what they might do to her? No! This, this was an embarrassment. This was ridiculous!

By Akatosh, she was going to have to pay bail, wasn’t she? Divines damn it all. 

“Take me to him,” fell from her mouth, her voice bringing with it the frost of winter. 

Calder gaped at her. 

“Listen to her, Calder, this woman’s the Dragonborn,” Ulfric directed, his face drawn and closed off. If Leara wasn’t already mad at Bishop, she’d wonder at the sharp change in his countenance. As it was, Bishop consumed all her thoughts. Just like the imbecile wanted. 

Karnwyr growled deep in his throat, and in the back of her mind, Leara realized that the wolf was as agitated as she was, and perhaps more so with how sudden her change in mood was. Losing her temper would get none of them anywhere. Her eyes closed, Leara counted back from ten in Altmeris, Bretic, and Cyrodilic, and then, not knowing the number system used by the dragons, she instead focused on the words Paarthurnax had taught her to meditate over. Feim. Zii. Feim. Zii. Fade. Spirit. As the first thaw after winter, tension eased from her limbs in a slow drip that left lingering traces of permafrost still clinging to her bones. Drawing in a frozen breath, Leara tuned back in just as Ulfric directed the two Generals to continue going over supply routes without him. And then he was walking to the door, Calder in his wake, and Leara found herself pulled along in the tailwind. 

All was quiet between them as the guard escorted them through winding passages and under stone arches to the Windhelm Jail. Situated clear across the palace from the war room, Leara felt the last of her anger give way to the growing familiarity of exhaustion. Try as she might, she couldn’t hold on to the blizzard scream howling to blister Bishop. Helpless, she watched it wither away into a pale and tired rain. When she saw Bishop, Leara . . . Leara didn’t know what she’d do. And that bothered her.

Far too soon, they reached a wide stairwell, blocked by a heavy cell-like door. Before Calder could move, Ulfric pulled it open, and then he stopped. Until now, as they traveled through the palace, Leara could hardly bring herself to watch his back, but now she had no choice but to face the grim set to his mouth and the clouds shadowing his face. The cool stare she leveled him with betrayed none of the returned anxiety over his anger. Again, Leara regretted the lost letter. Again, she regretted snubbing him and whatever he meant to discuss with her. She regretted coming to Windhelm and she regretted thinking she could handle politics again after all this time. 

“After you, Dragonborn,” his voice was stone.

“Certainly.” Her spine iron and her chin pointed, Leara swept past Ulfric and down the stairs without a second glance. When a genuine approach no longer served, subterfuge and sleight of hand were a safety net. Wasn’t it ironic how lessons learned while with the Dominion carried forward to help her handle their most hated asset?

At the base of the stairs was another door, this one of aged cold oak. She could already hear Bishop’s shouting as she stood there. Beside her, Karnwyr whined deep in his throat, as agitated with his master as she was. Akatosh give her patience. Scarcely did the Jarl and his guardsman reach the bottom of the stairs before Leara threw open the door and strode into the jail. 

“—ME OUT, YOU SON OF—” 

Two guards sat at a low wooden table, his head down, evidently suffering through the abuse blaring through an archway across the room. This must be the guardroom, Leara mused as she took in the cluttered desk and locked cabinet across the room. A board hung on the wall, crowded with bounty posts and notices. There were other doors as well: One probably opened to the captain’s office, while another likely connected to the guard barracks. She wondered how old this jail was. How long had the Jarls of Windhelm been locking up criminals and thugs here? Was it always a jail, or did it have another purpose long ago, maybe as a scullery or servant quarters? However, given the Nords’ penchant for tradition, she imagined Ysgramor himself appointed the first guard captain here and set today’s standards himself. 

At the sight of Ulfric behind her, the guard quickly stood. “Jarl Ulfric,” he said, relieved. “Is this--?”

“The Dragonborn, yes. Where is Captain Logi?”

“I’M GOING TO TEAR YOU A NEW ONE AS SOON AS I—”

The guard cleared his throat, twice. “He’s with the prisoner.”

“What are you going to do, Jarl Ulfric?” Calder asked. His cheek was darkening, inflamed and swollen. Leara almost winced in sympathy.

“AND I’LL MAKE YOU GAG AS I FORCE MY—”

The urge to walk away was strong, but almost against her will, Leara stepped forward. “I’ll take care of it. Just take me to him.”

“This way,” the guardsman began, but Ulfric stopped him. 

“Arne, go with Calder to have his injury tended,” he said, and Arne the guard – because the Palace did not breathe without the Jarl’s ascent, it seemed – gave a quick salute before he and Calder disappeared back up into the palace. 

Leara stared at the cracked stones tenuously forming the far wall. Windhelm was so old, the oldest city of men yet inhabited. It would be nothing for it to give way to dust. And yet, it wouldn’t. These walls would continue to weather storm and ice long after she passed into legend and Ulfric Stormcloak became a footnote in history.

“—ASSKISSING RAT—”

She prayed to all the Divines and some of the Altmer deities besides that no one bothered remembering this episode. 

She was keenly aware of the man behind her and his displeasure. A passing thought whispered that he might back out of the peace talks following Bishop’s display, but the rational – hopeful – part of her knew that Ulfric respected the Greybeards too much to go back on his word now. Not when he’d given it in front of his generals.

“You know, Dragonborn, I consider myself to be a reasonable man,” he said, cutting through the sounds of Bishop’s squalling. “But I can’t seem to figure out what you’re playing at.”

Slow and prim, Leara turned. “You assume that I believe this is some game in the first place. I assure you I don’t.”

Ulfric paced toward her, taller than her, but Leara was used to looking up at people who thought they were better than her. She didn’t flinch. “You leave me no choice when you insist on bringing that—”

“—THEN I’LL CUT YOUR DICK OFF AND FEED IT—”

“—skeever-faced milkdrinker into my city to assault my citizens and wreak havoc in my palace,” Ulfric continued, heated. “You bring him here, disregarding all sensibility, and yet you expect me to heed your advice and to place the wellbeing of Skyrim into your hands!”

She did not want to have this discussion. She refused to be cowed by a man she once had on the rack – no matter how she regretted those actions. “Given the state of things, you don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” she clipped. 

The clouds darkening Ulfric’s face deepened. “Perhaps, and perhaps my council isn’t worth much to you, but I would advise you to remember that as Dragonborn, you are the people’s hero, and the minds of the masses are fickle. It may be your destiny to defeat the World-Eater, but that will do you no good if the people cannot trust you.”

Lips thin, Leara barely gave him a curt nod, “Noted,” and turning her back on the Jarl, she marched toward the cells, a silent Karnwyr trailing behind. It took all her prayed-for grace to enter the cellblock with Bishop before her and Ulfric behind her, and yet by Akatosh, she did it, her face an impassive stone. The temperature seemed to drop as she entered a large, dimly lit room: Whereas the guardroom had a burning hearth and was well-stocked with wood, the cellblock had nothing of the kind. Calder was right; it was freezing down here. The man she assumed was Captain Logi wore a fur-lined cloak over his armor. He stood across from the entrance with his arms crossed and a “Talos take me now” kind of expression on his chapped face. At the sight of Leara and Ulfric, he straightened. 

“Jarl Ulfric, is this her?” Captain Logi asked, jutting his chin at Leara. With the movement, Leara noticed a woolly wad sticking out of his ear. So that was how he withstood Bishop’s abuse, by quite literally blocking it. 

Before Ulfric could answer, Bishop noticed just who came into the room, and, cutting himself off mid-remark about bedding Logi’s “pox-ridden” mother, leered at Leara through the bars of his cell. “Well, well! Look who finally decided to grace me with her presence! And here I thought you’d forgotten about me while you were sweettalkin’ your way into Stormcuck’s bed. Did he get your sword, too, or did he just settle for a taste of—”

Ulfric’s shout and Logi’s yelp were the only warning bells to sound before Leara flew across the room. Bishop was the only prisoner in holding, and right now he was the only person in her crosshairs. With a cold fury, she shot a hand into the cell and caught Bishop about the collar. Frost spread from her fingers to the dark leather, harsh and biting as it crept to his skin. “Be quiet,” she hissed, low and soft like a blanketing snowfall, so silent that only Bishop could hear her. “You are on thin ice as it is. I won’t ask what you were thinking, because clearly you were not, but if you want out of here, it would behoove you to think about the person holding the purse strings and your freedom in her hands.”

Ice tickled at the skin of Bishop’s neck and her grip, white-knuckled under her gloves, was close to strangling the ranger on his own collar. Yet the smirk he leveled her with was nothing short of cocksure arrogance. “If they knew the truth, it wouldn’t be me they’d have locked up in this skeever-infested hole.”

Just as quickly as the ice spread from her fingers, it sped even faster through her blood to chill her heart. “What are you talking about?”

Bishop’s smirk twisted. “If they knew what you are, you’d be in here until that pretty face of yours was ruined by age.”

What she was?

“Dragonborn, what is this?” Ulfric Stormcloak’s voice came from behind, far away across the room and yet clarity struck Leara between the eyes like lightning. What she was. The Aldmeri Dominion. But how did, how could Bishop possibly even know about that? Where had she made a mistake? At the College, when she ran into that Thalmor wizard? But even then, she’d been careful not to let on to Ancano who she was! Bishop couldn’t have pieced it together from that exchange. But how else—? No, no, did she talk in her sleep? She didn’t, did she? Even the best of operatives might be given away by a murmur in the night, but she never knew herself to do so. But everyone started at some point, didn’t they? Mara’s mercies, Bishop knew that she was once in the Dominion and she knew he was just petty enough to use that against her if she left him here. 

And then Ulfric would have her killed. 

That old terror coiled itself around her heart again, cradling it in a vice so tight that for a moment, Leara couldn’t breathe. 

“Dragonborn?”

The vice tightened, forcing Leara to exhale. Her hand, cold and cramping, fell from Bishop’s neck. It smacked against one of the bars on its way back to her side, and Leara noticed for the first time how the still-damaged nerves of her hands were screaming. She swallowed. “How much is bail?”

“What?” Captain Logi asked. 

With short jerking movements, Leara slowly stepped away from the cell. “How much is bail?”

The captain gaped at her, then to Ulfric. He was watching Leara with a closed expression; his arms were crossed in silent judgment. Her earlier pretense gone, Leara couldn’t meet his gaze. Not after what Bishop said. Not with what Ulfric may yet do to her. Her head bowed, Leara slipped across the room. Even Karnwyr was watching her, the wolf’s ears flat and his eyes almost teary. “Please, let me pay his bail, and then we will leave Windhelm. I’m sorry for the grievances we’ve caused for you and your people. Forgive me, it will not happen again.”

Ulfric was silent, and anxiety ate at Leara’s nerves. Then, “Captain Logi will accept the payment. Logi, go with her.”

“Aye, Jarl Ulfric.” Confusion mixed with relief on the captain’s face. “This way, ma’am.”

Leara dared a glimpse at Ulfric as she followed Captain Logi in silence. He didn’t look at her. She didn’t want him to. With Bishop’s eyes burning into her from across the room, she wanted as much distance as she could possibly get placed between her and the man she tortured.

“I’ll be waiting, sweetness!” Bishop called after her. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

Leara wanted to disappear. 

·•★•·

“How much is bail?”

“What?”

The Dragonborn jerked back from the cell, and for the first time since she’d charged forward, Ulfric could make out the self-satisfaction pinching the ranger’s face. Seeing the way the other man’s gaze followed the Dragonborn reminded Ulfric of a wolf stalking an injured doe. No matter how far she ran, her wound would always fell her and call the wolf to her side. Comparing the memory of the woman who threw her arms around the man, this Bishop, after the bard’s circus with the woman shrinking into herself, Ulfric began to wonder if his impression that the Dragonborn was infatuated with the menace was incorrect. 

“How much is bail?” she asked again. The Dragonborn stood facing him, but she was far away. Her eyes were haunted, the bright blue from before now dull and weary. Faded. Ulfric studied her. She came on behalf of the Greybeards, claiming to fight for Skyrim. And yet, her disregard for counsel and persistence in keeping a man like Bishop around when she visited the Holds suggested she was flippant about her appointment as Dragonborn. But now Ulfric couldn’t reconcile such an attitude with the woman who quietly assured them that she would defeat the World-Eater. The woman who offered hope.

“Please, let me pay his bail, and then we will leave Windhelm. I’m sorry for the grievances we’ve caused for you and your people. Forgive me, it will not happen again.”

The fragile plea struck him. She wouldn’t meet his eye; instead, her head remained bowed, cascading the deep red hair too short to tuck into her bun forward to shroud her. She was hiding. Somehow, then, Ulfric knew that it wasn’t the Dragonborn who chose to keep Bishop around. For whatever reason, this man attached himself to the Dragonborn and was draining her vitality through his own brand of poison. 

“Captain Logi will accept the payment,” he said at length. “Logi, go with her.”

“Aye, Jarl Ulfric,” Logi nodded, his relief at getting rid of Bishop clear. “This way, ma’am.”

The Dragonborn trailed after Logi, appearing as if she were in a daze. Ulfric wondered if she was. The way a few whispered words from Bishop seemed to turn a roaring dragon into a skittish deer was unsettling. The more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable Ulfric became with the idea of actually letting the man go. But Logi was already leading the Dragonborn away to pay the bail. Bishop would be released and Ulfric would watch as the Dragonborn left in his company. With how fast she wilted when faced with Bishop in the cell, Ulfric wondered if the elven woman would be able to make it to the Greybeards’ peace council. 

“Are you going to let me out or are you going to continue brooding like a teenager?” Bishop’s voice cut in. 

Ulfric leveled the man with a glare. “Your fine hasn’t been paid yet, boy. Hold your tongue.”

“Angry, are you?” Bishop snorted. “Her ladyship not get you off?”

“What.”

Harsh laughter echoed in the small cell, grating. “I don’t get what she sees in you, but something about you’s got her knickers all twisted up.” Fire flared in the returning glare. “Whatever it is has made it damn near impossible to claim that woman as mine!” He snarled and struck his fist against the cell wall. “Get out of her head! She’s not fighting in your damn war for your weak god!”

It took every ounce of patience Ulfric possessed to keep from reaching through the bars and slamming the ranger’s skull into the hard iron. He drew in a slow, meditative breath, and held it. He would not murder a prisoner in his own jail. To occupy himself, Ulfric retrieved the key ring from its hook near the door. Logi should be back soon with the Dragonborn, and then this business would be over. 

“Got nothing to say to that, do you?” sneered Bishop. Did he not know when to shut up? Given the pitch and content of Bishop’s earlier screeching, it wasn’t likely. Ulfric wondered vaguely if Bishop talked while eating. The same way Galmar’s brother did, with food spraying from his mouth and mead dripping down his chin. “Is she even your type? Do you like pretty little elf maids? Or do you prefer one of those strapping blonds fighting for you? Flexing in uniform.”

“Hold your tongue,” Ulfric snapped.

“Oh-ho-ho! He speaks! What was it, the idea that you thirst after your soldiers—” Bishop cut himself off. “No, I know what it is. You want her. You want what every red-blooded man wants from her. You want that woman in your bed, under you, as you play out some sick power fantasy with her. What are you going to do, tie her up like the elven whore she is? Pretend she’s that hag-faced ambassador and beat the crap outta her? Ha!”

The key turned in the lock before Ulfric realized he’d marched across the room and inserted it. Then the cell door was open, and nothing stood between him and the wretch. 

A resounding crack! filled the small space as Ulfric slammed Bishop into the back wall. Bishop’s head bounced, hard, but the twisted smirk never left his stubbled face. Bishop was tall, but Ulfric still had an inch or so on him. This he used to yank Bishop up so he was scrabbling against the wall for stability. “Quiet.”

“I knew it,” Bishop wheezed, his hands pawing at the steely grip Ulfric held on his collar. “You’re nothing but another power-hungry noble with a chip on his shoulder. Newsflash, asshole: No one cares about your war, least of all her—”

Another knock against the wall pushed the air from Bishop’s lungs. 

“Learn to be quiet before someone grows tired of your whinging and silences you permanently!”

“Who’s going to do it, you?” Bishop rolled his head back against the wall. “Flattering, but I’m not interested.”

Bracing his arms against the wretch’s chest, Ulfric pushed him into the hard stone. “You have attacked my people, assaulted my guards, and insulted me to my face. But more than that, you continually abuse the Dragonborn, the same woman who wants to free you. Have you no shame?”

“What’s there to be ashamed of? She’s mine, she’ll do whatever I want.”

Except sleep with you, Ulfric thought, recalling the earlier admission. He scowled.

“You know what I think?” continued Bishop. “You want her, but you’re not man enough to take her. You couldn’t handle a fox like her,” Bishop chortled.

“Jarl Ulfric?” Captain Logi had returned. 

Before the guard captain saw him physically assaulting a regretfully free man, Ulfric dumped the sorry excuse of a Nord on the dirt-strewn floor. Scrambling to his feet, Bishop darted ahead of him out of the cell. 

Captain Logi stood back at the door, alone. “The Dragonborn’s upstairs waiting with your stuff,” he told Bishop, ignoring the deep scowl cutting the ranger’s face as he brushed loose straw from his tussled hair. "You better thank Talos that Leara was so willing to cover for you.” 

“What? Whatever. I’m outta here.”

Leara? Up until now, Ulfric hadn’t realized he’d never known the Dragonborn’s name. Leara. An airy name. 

“Boy,” he said. Yet Bishop would’ve kept going if Logi hadn’t barred his way. Grumbling, the ranger stopped. “Remember this. A day will come when I have you in these cells again, and when I do, the Dragonborn’s good favor won’t save you.”

Another cold laugh. “Fat chance! I’d like to see you try.”

Logi bristled, but Ulfric shook his head. Then the ranger disappeared up the stairs, back to the Dragonborn – Leara’s side.

The image left in his mind was dark and unsettling. All Ulfric could do now was pray to Talos that his foreboding was ill-founded. 

·•★•·

They left Windhelm as the bottom broke and freezing rain fell in torrents across Eastmarch. A mage’s cloak and whispered Bretic rune would’ve kept the worst of the water off her, but Leara could hardly muster the energy to keep moving. Magic was beyond her ability to care. The most she could manage was some household spell usually used to keep plates warm. This she focused on Karnwyr, who, with his drooping head and dripping fur, looked just as miserable as she felt.

Bishop marched ahead of her, his face dark and silent. Whatever happened after she left to pay his bail was a mystery. She didn’t dare to ask. All she knew was Bishop came stalking out of the cell block with his jacket in disarray and a scowl so fierce it’d scare a Frost Troll. She couldn’t bring herself to ask about it, nor about anything else. The realization that Bishop knew she was once an officer in the Aldmeri Dominion was still too raw for her to address. Even as an undercover Blades agent, the actions she carried out under the direction of her superiors in the Dominion would have her labeled a criminal here. It would be the same if she were anywhere else, perhaps Solitude or Daggerfall or Bruma, and they discovered she was a Knight Sister. Leara was damned either way.

If Alduin had his way, she’d be damned in every way.

When they stopped for the night under an outcropping of rock flanked by several snow-laden pines, Leara approached Bishop. Knots twisted her stomach in every direction. She wanted to throw up. Instead, she sat and watched him sharpen one of his knives, waiting for him to acknowledge her. 

“Something on your mind, darling?” he asked, humorless.

Leara suppressed a nervous cough. “The Greybeards are hosting a peace conference in order to negotiate a temporary truce in the Civil War. I need them to stop fighting to secure Jarl Balgruuf’s cooperation.”

“What do you need him for?” Bishop didn’t look up as he passed the whetstone along the blade’s edge in a rhythmic pattern. It would have been mesmerizing if Leara weren’t so on edge. 

“I—” Need to trap a dragon in Dragonsreach so I can find Alduin’s portal to Sovngarde so I can end this crisis once and for all. I may die.

“Spit it out, sweetness. I haven’t got all night!”

But she couldn’t. Leara couldn’t bring herself to confess the plan to trap a dragon and fight Alduin again. Not when she knew all too well Bishop’s opinion of her Divines-ordained destiny. She couldn’t. Not after the day she’d had. So, instead, she pushed herself forward, and, mindful of the knife, Leara pressed her lips to his. Tangling her hand in his hair, she pushed him back, muffling his surprise and the memory of their conversation with her mouth. 

Long after, when the petting was over and Bishop was asleep, Leara curled into Karnwyr and cried.

[pkmn-spira]

Celestial Document: SYM-09

SYM-09

Description: SYM-09 is a top secret SYM Asset, whose true identity is knowable only to Team Celestial's Leader, and Admin Hephaestus. As such, it is held in a separate, isolated enclosure located in Celestial HQ. However, once the Celestum Prismata Stratos Ship's construction is complete, it will be promptly relocated there.

Additional Details

SYM-09 is the result of ████████████ undergoing a paradoxical self-symbiosis. This resulted to its full potential having been realized, something that has not been seen again ever since its first arrival in Ancient Spira, as well as during the time Ancient Spira was at war with the Jinn King's nation. Though compared to how it was back then, SYM-09 now has a more acute, refined control over this state, all thanks to Admin Hephaestus' hard work and tests.

Furthermore, it is observed that SYM-09 behaves far more differently on this state, as well, as it no longer needs to assume its other forms to adapt to external stimuli. In fact, it now gains all of the boons that its offensive, defensive, and agile forms grant it, all at once without assuming said forms.

Additionally, it is also observed that its bond with Team Celestial's Leader, Zeus, was further strengthened after it had fully realized its potential. Whether this would be of further significance than it already is at this point is still under observation.

Observation

-SYM-09

It is to note that due to its full potential having been realized, SYM-09's eldritch pressure has reached overwhelming levels. Ordinary people would not only feel overwhelmed, but would also experience either hopelessness, reverence, or terror upon being within an approximate of twenty meters in radius around SYM-09.

The only ones that can outright resist such tremendous pressure from SYM-09 is Lord Zeus, as well as Team Celestial's Admins, the latter via meteorite fragments integrated unto their accessories, which were taken from both Anomalous Crater of Cryptid Isle and Meteoric Crash Site, as it would seem that the meteorite fragments taken from both areas are able to counteract such overwhelming presence, but only at some capacity.

However, it is observed that Lord Zeus is unbothered by such overbearing presence at all. This is due to the fact that he is bonded to SYM-09 in a similar fashion to the Starlink Phenomenon.

There is also one conjecture in which that individuals who were touched/chosen by other Legendary Pokémon would also be able to resist such overwhelming presence. The same would also, in conjecture apply to Fallers, as well, under the reason that such individuals were already touched by the cosmic weirdness, and thus gaining the unyielding attention of the eldritch beings that are known as Ultra Beasts.

Environmental Changes

Upon running certain tests on Team Celestial's simulation facility within its HQ, it is to note that if allowed to run free, SYM-09's mere presence alone would be able to slowly, and surely change the 'texture' of the earth. Through its virulent DNA, SYM-09 would leak out an "alien system" that would not only rewrite physical laws, but also terraform the area around it into something truly eldritch and not of this world. In a way, this "alien system" infects the land itself, turning it into something completely alien to this planet.

The environment that has been simulated was described to be as beautiful, marvelous even. However, it is also equally horrendous and disturbing. Something that is truly incomprehensible to humans.

It is unknown however, if such an alien environment would affect any Pokémon in some way, but there is a conjecture that such an environment would be able to significantly empower any Pokémon that came from the cosmos.

Lord Zeus believes that said environment would also significantly empower a human "touched by the stars", allowing them to transcend in a higher level of existence. Though such a belief is taken as a strong conjecture without any further proof or basis. Admin Hephaestus theorizes that such... belief is one of the side effects of being bonded to SYM-09, aggravated further upon the realization of its full potential.

[kokorowoutsu]

-- RP: @pkmn-spira

pkmn-spira:

Morgan allowed them to share their moment. Separation must be something they take very seriously. As for her? Ten years ago, she was separated from her parents, having to fend for herself and survive while Anodyne Amusement Park refused to let her go for over five years, until the anomalous occurrences there finally let her go. Then she realized that her parents have went off-region to who knows where. But alas, she doesn't care about that much anymore. Cryptid Isle had given her a 'gift', and said 'gift' made her strong. Stronger than she can dream of. And that's what mattered. Her strength was recognized, by the League, by Team Celestial. And that recognition was enough for her. "I see. Keeping things under wraps." Morgan nodded. "Our current Champion would share the same sentiment with you two. See, nobody in the region even knows of the Champion's identity. They don't even know if they're a he or a she." She explained. "Events with a previous organization, Team Andromeda, scarred the Champion, who was still a Pokémon Trainer challenging the League at that time who got wound up with the organization's business. Tried to be a hero and all, and they did, but the costs were great. So they decided to prefer anonymity over fame. Fame attracts enemies. Exposes one's weaknesses. The Champion knew and learned that from Team Andromeda." "Of course, we of the Spiran League know of their identity, but we don't divulge on it for good reason." Made sense too. "As for public appearances? The current Champion appears to the public, but on a hooded mask." Ah, she prattled on again.

"As for what Ashe said, Spira was indeed cut off from the other regions due to an isolation policy two years ago. Though recently, that same policy has now been lifted, though it will take a while before other people from other regions would start truly flocking the place en masse." Though the mention of 'timeline' had picked her interest. She heard of certain theories of some people of Spira in the past, that this reality is but one of different possible realities. Of course, some believe it to be the ravings of a madman. But then again, The Primordial One works in so many ways some would consider to be unnatural, so Morgan believes in such possibility. And this just confirms it.

"A moment." A pause, as she snapped her fingers, in which that beckoned Asrai to stop the assault on the now motionless SYM-01, with Morgan now returning her to her Pokeball. "I do agree that its better to move in groups." She nodded. "And having someone who has the knowledge of the knowledge of the land is a major boon, too. So very well, I accept." Of course she had to bring it up too. "There may be times however, that I won't be available. League activities and all, but I would let you guys know in advance." And now, the sound of rustling and wood growing and snapping can be heard. "Seems that we've overstayed our welcome. The damage the fight had caused certainly angered the forest after all."

"That being said, shall we leave? We can head for Adamantine Town after leaving Fae Deepwoods and traversing Blackout Cave. Though alternatively, I can have my Gardevoir teleport all of us to Adamantine Town right off the bat instead. It'll wind her out a bit, having to teleport multiple individuals at once, but she'll manage." "So, what say you, esteemed guests of Spira?"

Ashe, Leon, and Willow were quiet at best as their host now talked about the Champion of the region as well as events that involved Team Celestial. Ashe had a sneaking suspicion that considering how much Morgan spoke of it, there was some kind of connection, but she wouldn't judge nor ask -- not unless Morgan put her family in jeopardy which, honestly, hadn't happened yet in her eyes, although she did share a look with Leon before he responded, holding his daughter as she leaned back against him, turning from Morgan completely. "I can... understand the Champion's plight." He offered a sympathetic smile. "I went through... something similar." He admits. That's all he'd say though.

"Your business and stepping away isn't a problem. At best I can cast glamours to allow us to explore the more open parts of the region if that's alright without impeding on other things." Ashe would reveal her grimoire and abilities in time -- but not yet. As for the Wood being upset, Ashe held her hand up for a moment. "A moment." The fae in her had her reaching into her bag and pulling out a small jar that held some kind of ointment within it. It had been blessed heavily with magic and she also left an offering of Moo-Moo Milk and Honey freshly got from Vespiquen hives. With that, she stepped away from one of the trees, hoping the gifts would appease and help heal the forest as she spoke something in Fae along the lines of; 'Apologies offend us, I know, but we have done you harm, so I ask you humbly to accept my offerings and use them to heal your wounds.'

With that, she pulled back and returned to Morgan without fear of overstaying. "I don't want to stress out your pokemon or their kindness. We can travel by foot and rest if need be by tent." She looked to Leon who nodded. With that said, he clicked a pokeball open and a Luxray -- fairly large in size, an Alpha variant, appeared, shaking out his fur and in doing so Willow was placed on his back who held on tightly to his fur. Ashe took this time to return Kumiko to her pokeball, promising she'd call upon her soon enough, but Lucky remained holding her arm with one ribbon and using his other ribbons to keep the rest of the family close.

"We're ready. Lead the way, please."

[feralfennecfox]

BROWNIE

The "brownie" is a small, unimpressive-looking demon found within the British Isles. They call themselves the Urisk, but nomenclature aside, the brownie is a more daunting adversary than would appear.

Brownies are masters of deception, fading in and out of darkness and light, able to manipulate the forest in order to achieve its goals. This author remains confused by his encounters with the Urisk. They appear at times to be playful and benevolent beasts, at other times mischievous, and rarely violent. The brownie, dressed in the clothing of English or Irish dandies, would seem a laughable threat.

I bare the marks of their teeth in my left side to prove otherwise. Dazzlingly fast and clever, they use their razor sharp teeth and small shivs to make short work of opponents. They do have weaknesses beyond the physical, however. Brownies love to gamble.

Challenge the brownie to a bet. Bet him your life against his on a coin toss. He will likely produce his own two-headed coin, but bring yours in case he doesn't. If either coin is revealed a fake, agree to a legitimate one. If you lose, you can still break the bet and murder him. The brownie is simply incapable of conceiving this option and will voluntarily die.

[i had this idea to make mood/stim boards based off this document about killing different kinds of cryptids that i learned abt from a debunkfile video, specifically this video]

[stormvanari]

Name: Darian Vernworth

Occupation: Head Witch of the Illusion Coven (NBI Era), engineer, daredevil; thief (pre-DoU)

Age: Early 40s

Pronouns: He/Ze/Zir

Relatives: Adrian Graye Vernworth (twin)

Alma Mater: Unknown

Coven: Illusion

Likes: Steampunk, stunt performances, engineering, hoodies, joyrides, fruit-infused water, pranks

Dislikes: Those titandamn Basilisk experiments, Adrian being an asshole, getting spoiled (in terms of media like crystal balls), his tail “betraying him,” being outsmarted by Loopy

A former thief, Darian Vernworth is one of the New Boiling Isles’ Coven Heads, specifically as the new leader of the Illusion Coven. He is also a basilisk, who once relied on heavy evasion to avoid the Emperor’s Coven for ~30 years, after their raid at his former home. Most of his knowledge is solely based on human books bought from a market, especially the engineering ones. It helped him develop his signature tail prosthetic.

While Adrian threw his identity as a basilisk out the window, Darian did not.

——————————————————————

Backstory: There was once a place near the center of the Boiling Isles that Basilisks used to thrive in. Among them were twins Darian and Adrian (the former is a month older than the latter): the two used to sneak to the nearest town and steal items to liven their home more. Part of this activity was suggested by Adrian, because he was tired of eating the same food.

When the Emperor’s Coven invaded their territory, both Darian and Adrian accidentally separated each other during a fight. The older basilisk hid inside a cave and casted an illusion over it to hide his spot from the Emperor’s Coven.

However, Darian was more concerned about where Adrian fled: when the coast was clear, he looked everywhere for the younger twin, but couldn’t find him in the end.

Until he heard the sound of airships flying over head.

•••••

It was then that Darian planned to follow them to facilities operated by the Emperor’s Coven under the illusory disguise of a coven scout.

For several times, he tried to free all of the captured basilisks (some were successful, such as letting III, IV, and Vee escape), but kept getting caught by coven forces. One day, when he came back for a soon-to-be-last attempt, Darian was shocked to see the rest of the basilisks(even Adrian) missing from every facility. Instead of fleeing, Darian got into a fight with coven forces out of fury, believing they have eliminated the basilisks for good. During the fight, one of the coven members managed to cut his tell via firing a spell at Darian.

Expecting to be on a wanted poster, he fled back to the same empty cave he hid in during his first escape from the coven. It would eventually become the basilisk’s secluded hideout for the next ~30 years.

•••••

During those ~30 years, Darian became an elusive cryptid who raided markets and stores at night for his survival supply (and hid the mess under an illusion). Moreover, Darian was searching for a tail replacement, as the original was lost to the raid years ago.

But there was a market that stood out to Darian’s interest: one that sells “human treasures.” He will eventually buy a book on human engineering that will help him make a prosthetic for his missing tail. This goal led to an improvement of his evasion (and illusion) skills, as he did this on a daily basis. He also created handmade weapons back at his cave for additional support (plus casting illusion magic over his projectiles to speed up the damage).

Did I also mention that the earring Darian wears is part of a concealment stone he stole from a market? The earring amplified his magic, while the concealment stone transformed the basilisk into a witch that bears a striking resemblance to Adrian (he had to get a cloak to avoid raising suspicion).

From here, Darian frequently used this disguise for his next heists, which will eventually catch Adrian Graye’s (the Head of the Illusion Coven during this time) interest. This will become a test for Darian’s evasion skills honed over time.

It was a perfectly normal reunion that did not end in a wanted poster after an argument of conflicting ideas between the twins.

•••••

After the Day of Unity, Abomination magic has been looked down upon due to the Blight Industries’ contribution to the horrific event. As a result, many demanded an alternative to abomination prosthetics (Belos loyalists preferred to stick to this option, though). As a result, Darian became the last member to be appointed to the Titan’s Council: he wanted to take a chair because, being the arrogant engineer he is, wishes to show off his mechanical knowledge to the rest of the New Boiling Isles. With that, he brought up the idea of illusion prosthetics, by left space for abomination-engineered ones for witches who preferred to gain accessibility with the latter.

In addition, Darian’s position allowed him to make friends, especially a young prankster who took the Abomination chair, and have a better lab to move his work into afterwards. Moreover, Darian began to oversee a rising industrial age of his home.

During breaks, the basilisk makes visiting arrangements for his twin when they both have the chance together. They try to piece back their relationship slowly, even though Adrian is hesitant due to their argument in the past. Darian also took on a new activity that involves performing stunts.

——————————————————————

During Duels: Although he is an engineer, Darian has shown front-line competency with illusions. As previously implied, he is very evasive and athletic. In other words, he is more active in battle than Adrian.

His prosthetic tail is his signature weapon: it can shapeshift into various weapons, such as a mace, and his most notable is the head of a basilisk. The tail can also grab (onto) objects, either for protection or leaping across a platform.

However, Darian’s tail also serves as a weakness: it is easily vulnerable when extended at great lengths, as an opponent can grab a part of the tail. A common consequence is Darian being tangled by his own tail.

He uses his earring that functions similarly to Adrian’s, only that the former acts as a monocle and the lens has a larger shape. But, Darian upgraded it to cast miniature illusions of various blueprints and figures.

——————————————————————

Personality: Clever, Resourceful, Detailed, Inventive, Observant, Snarky, Melodramatic, Secretive

Darian is best described as a streetwise quick-thinker. He relies on observation in order to make his next move to overcome difficulties. Moreover, the basilisk has good photographic memory.

Although the size of his ego is smaller than Adrian’s, Darian does have a tendency to show off his inventions in an arrogant and dramatic manner. That’s why he took the Illusion chair of the Titan’s Council.

Darian likes to be detailed with his notes, but it can get confusing.

——————————————————————

Relationships with Titan’s Council members:

• Sonore Skual: The captain of the Demon Realm Expedition drags Darian to provide better defense for his ships. Additionally, Sonore is often tasked to keep an eye on Darian, who would wander off and come back with stolen items packed away in bags attached to his belt. This is a case during their travels to the Human Realm.

• Loopy Crulle: Darian is an honorary “Crulle” to her, otherwise they share one sibling-like brain cell. These Coven Heads love pulling pranks at each other, but Darian hates being outsmarted by the clown (he is the Head Illusionist, and “should be the one that outsmarts her!”).

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs - Post Production: Black Wing and Lilith

Primary Pairing: JohanLilith YohaRiko Rating: T? Words: ~3.8k AU: Theater, Monsters, Cryptids Time Frame: Sometime after the main story Content Warning: Pirate Stuff

---------

Author’s Note: Gods help me, I am incapable of leaving anything as a one-shot... So here is a followup to the chapter I wrote earlier this month for IFH’s Wake Up Challenger 2022 event, where I realized that one genre I’ve never written is about pirates. And I’ve already started on the next chapter...

Summary: The ship on which Lilith is traveling is attacked by pirates

---------

Lilith squinted and held a hand above her eyes. Was that a ship on the horizon?

“Would you care to use this, Mrs. Thompson?” A man’s voice said from nearby as a spyglass entered her vision.

“Thank you, Mr. Müller.” Lilith accepted the looking device. “I wonder where they’re headed…” She wondered aloud.

“That be their business, Milady.” Müller replied. “Best not to be thinking about it too much.”

Despite the offered advice, Lilith couldn’t help continuing to ponder and pulled out her compass. Based on her knowledge of the area, gained by hours of pouring over her husband’s maps after being informed that he was bringing her along for this journey, there was nothing but open sea along the other ship’s course. Granted, the New World was still actively being mapped, so there was no small chance that some uncharted isle was the destination. Perhaps West Africa was the destination and the ship only seemed off course as it was tacking into the trade winds?

Or… perhaps land wasn’t the intended destination. Perhaps they were heading toward her husband’s ship. But that would mean the ship was crewed by… No. No, it was bad luck to think about such things. Or so she had been told.

Still, watching a lone ship on the horizon slowly approach was more interesting than… well, pretty much anything else Lilith could do. In the first couple weeks of the journey across the Atlantic, she had played her violin so much she had worn through enough of her supply of both bowhair and string that her husband had commanded she refrain from playing, except at his request to entertain him or the crew.

Lilith had thus spent the next week finding crewmen willing to teach her basic duties around the ship. And while her husband forbade her from actively working as crew, she had been able to convince him that her knowing certain things could come in hand in an emergency. Müller had been the most willing to indulge her fancies, and the two had formed a bond through the lessons.

As Müller returned to his duties, Lilith amused herself by calculating how long it would be until the two ships crossed paths. Not knowing the exact speed of either ship affected her estimates, so she allowed herself a wide window of possible scenarios, most of which resulted in the other ship passing in front of or behind them. She observed that the other ship was indeed tacking, however, each time it turned directly back towards them.

Closer.

Turn and tack.

Closer…

Wait, was the other ship lowering its flag of the Empire?

Lilith leaned slightly over the railing, as though the extra few centimeters would actually make a difference.

Something sloughed off the side of the other ship and suddenly, a dozen cannon could clearly be seen. And, rising up the main mast, was a black flag.

“Pirates!” Lilith shouted.

“What?!” A nearby crewman balked. “Lemme see!” He grabbed the spyglass out of Lilith’s hand. “She’s right! Pirates!” He shouted confirmation.

Chaos erupted on the deck.

Lilith’s husband, the captain, began shouting orders and men scrambled to follow them.

“This way, Milady.” A hand grabbed Lilith’s arm and began pulling her through the crowded deck.

“Mr. Müller?” Lilith uttered upon recognition.

“Captain’s ordered us to fight.” Müller explained as he continued to clear a path for them. “You’ll be safer in his quarters.”

“Will we be alright?”

“’Tis the Fallen Angel that be attacking.” Müller sighed as he opened the door to the captain’s quarters. “Black Wing and her crew won’t give up easily.”

“Her?” Lilith questioned as she was guided inside.

“But don’t you be worrying about us, Milady.” Müller said before closing the door and locking it with a key he was likely given by the captain.

A woman pirate captain? Intriguing. Something stirred within Lilith.

Her thoughts were shattered by the sound of cannon fire.

Several seconds later, Lilith cried out in surprise as the hull near her exploded inward and showered her with shrapnel. She held up an arm to guard her face, wincing as a sizable shard scraped her side. After a moment, she inspected herself, finding that the sleeve and skirt of her dress were shredded, but her wound was superficial. But that was fine, she was alright, and she had never cared much for the garment anyway, only wearing it to please her husband.

How was the battle proceeding outside the cabin? Lilith couldn’t help wondering as she stared at the open hole in the side of the ship. Her mind whirled through calculations about how long it would take for the cannon crews of the Fallen Angel to reload and determining if Captain Black Wing would order full broadsides for each volley or allow them to fire at will. However, it wasn’t just cannonballs about which she needed to worry; she could also hear musket fire being exchanged between the ships.

However, after a few seconds, curiosity overwhelmed her, and Lilith peeked through the hole. She gasped. The Fallen Angel was far closer than she expected, maybe a dozen yards or so at best. It was close enough that she could see the cannon crews working furiously to reload their weapons on the upper deck, while shadows skittered around the barrels pointed out of the ports of the deck below.

She shifted her gaze up and could now make out the details of the black flag. There was the standard and expected skull, but instead of crossbones, a pair of feathery wings adorned the lower portion of the flag. And above the skull was what looked to be a broken halo.

And what of the captain? Black Wing, the woman pirate captain. Lilith scanned the deck. Ah, there she is. How could she overlook that black hat with such a huge black feather attached?

Although from what Lilith could see from here, Black Wing’s hat was the only black thing she was wearing. She wore a grey vest over her blouse with matching grey trousers and her coat was deep purple. Not exactly the colors Lilith was expecting, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the captain, nonetheless.

Black Wing stood at the edge of the quarterdeck, calling orders to her crew, while shifting her attention back and forth between the two ships. Suddenly, she stooped and grabbed something from near her feet. She then stepped over to the railing, took a bracing stance and raised a musket to take aim.

A shot was fired. A raucous cheer arose from the pirate crew. And an eerie quite fell across the deck of the merchant ship.

What had just happened?

As the two ships continued to draw closer, the pirates began to toss grappling hooks across to secure them together. Then, the pirates lowered a gangway between the ships. Finally, Black Wing strode confidently across first. The pirate captain held what looked like a large dagger carved from onyx, but not in a position that would indicate that she was expecting a fight.

Had the merchant crew surrendered? Or had they all been slaughtered? Had Black Wing picked off the last remaining crew with her musket?

Lilith could hear her husband start shouting something, although she could not understand the words as they were muffled through the door of the cabin. Well, at least someone was still alive out there. A woman’s voice began shouting as well, and eventually, the captain was overwhelmed. Or perhaps he had succumb to his injuries?

Just what the heck was going on out there? Lilith pressed her ear against the door but was still unable to determine the activities of those outside. She was pretty sure she could hear activity below decks and assumed the pirates were beginning their plunder of the ship’s cargo. But something was still going on out on the main deck.

Lilith wasn’t sure how long she stood, trying to determine the goings on outside, but eventually she was startled by the sound of heavy boots ascending the stairs leading to the captain’s quarters. She jolted away from the door as the knob rattled. Someone on the other side grumbled a curse, which was followed by a loud thunk, like a blade being buried in the wood.

Then, the door burst open, and a black object tumbled into the cabin. However, what commanded the most of Lilith’s attention was the figure striding in. She didn’t remember picking up the instrument, but the next thing Lilith was aware of was swinging a violin toward the intruder. The other individual raised an arm in defense and the violin splintered against it.

“Seems we have a feisty one in here.” A woman’s voice said, seeming to be quite amused. “You’ve got quite the swing, M’lady, but I would ask that you not provoke me further. You are obviously not crew, so I hold no ill will toward you, for now.”

“C… Captain Black Wing?” Lilith stammered upon recognition.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me.” The woman turned her violet eyes toward Lilith before offering a toothy grin. “’Tis nice to be recognized every now and again. Seems only you and one other recognized me.”

“Mr. Müller told me of you moments before you attacked.”

“I attacked?” Black Wing laughed. “My dear lass, my crew and I would have been more than happy to simply take an offered percentage of the cargo. However, that fool of a captain decided to fire first, so now we will be taking everything.”

“Did you kill everyone too?”

Blank Wing blinked. “Why no. Why ever would we? I mean I guess if we had to, I suppose we would.” She shrugged. “But crews ordered to fight by foolish captains are usually quick to surrender once I take down the one who gave the order.”

Well that certainly explains the silence after Black Wing’s shot. Lilith thought to herself.

“Anyway, foolish captains tend to think they have something their crew is willing to protect.” The pirate continued, beginning to examine the room. “And that’s what brings me here.”

Lilith peeked out of the door, noting idly that whatever the black thing was, it had sheered through the latch. Perhaps the dagger she had seen earlier? Must be exceptionally strong and sharp to do that when Black Wing… kicked? the hilt.

Out on the deck, Lilith could see both crews working together to transfer cargo to the pirate ship. For all the chaos of battle, there seemed to be surprisingly few casualties as far as she could tell. However, she quickly spotted the body of her husband, leaned haphazardly against the rail. Huh…

The sound of Black Wing clicking her tongue caught Lilith’s attention.

“A shame.” The pirate sighed, examining the neck of the broken violin. “A finely crafted instrument like this might have fetched a fair price.”

“There’s another over there.” Lilith jutted a chin in the general direction. “But I had to annex its strings.”

“You play?” That seemed to pique Black Wing’s interest.

“Yes.”

“Perhaps, should fate allow our paths to cross again, I might have the honor of witnessing what I presume to be a lovely performance by a lovely performer.” Black Wing accented her words with dramatic hand gestures.

Lilith felt heat rise in her cheeks.

“Mrs. Thompson?” A man poked his head into the quarters. “Ah, there you are. I was worried when I saw the door had been breached.”

“I’m fine.” Lilith assured. “Thank you, Mr. Müller.”

“Right, that’s good.” The man nodded. “Anyway, Captain Black Wing, ma’am, we’re almost done loading you up. You’ll be good to go in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” The pirate responded. “Müller, was it?”

“Aye.”

“You’d make a fine pirate captain yourself, if you don’t mind my saying. You’ve got this crew’s respect. I doubt you would have trouble gaining that of a more… motley crew.”

“Perhaps.” Müller acknowledged. “But me thinks I be getting a bit too old for such adventures. Perhaps I shall look to retire once I get this ship to port.”

“I see.” Black Wing nodded. “Well then perhaps as a retirement gift, and as thanks for calling the surrender, I’ll leave a little something for you and your remaining crew. Maybe something of your former captain’s? If I can find anything here.” She turned to the man. “Would you happen to know where he kept his private stash?”

“No, Ma’am, I do not.” Müller shook his head. “’Twould not surprise me if Captain Thompson held something hidden here. However, he was a secretive soul and wouldn’t trust even one such as myself with the knowledge.”

“I see.”

“I know where it is.” Lilith offered.

“Well, there you go.” Müller chuckled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I shall go finish overseeing the transfer of cargo.” With that said, he left.

“The key is in a hidden drawer in the desk.” Lilith explained, stepping over to the named fixture. “You have to open it like this.” She turned the knob a certain way before opening the drawer, then lifted a hidden slat within. Finally, she pulled out the key and held it out to the pirate captain.

“Thank you.” Black Wing inspected the ornate key. “And where, pray tell, shall I use this?”

“Under the desk.” Lilith said, kneeling. “Umh… I think it went like…” She placed her hands on a plank and tried to shift its position, but to no avail. “Not that one…” She tried another, which finally clicked. “Ah. There we go. Sorry, I’ve never actually done this myself.” She explained as she manipulated the puzzle-like planks. “I think… yes, there, got it.” She slid the last part into place and popped open the panel.

Black Wing knelt beside Lilith to examine the metal door underneath. The pirate then slipped the key into what was obviously the keyhole and turned. She furrowed her brow when the contents of the vault were revealed to be several dark velvet sacks. And she seemed unimpressed by the wax seals bearing the crest of Lilith’s husband that had been melted around the knots securing the bags. She grabbed one of the sacks and hauled it up to the desk. With little ceremony, she snapped off enough wax to undo the tie, opened the bag. And gasped.

“Harriette!” Black Wing shouted toward the door.

The sound of someone scrambling up the stairs to the cabin could be heard.

“Aye, Captain?” A brunette with gold eyes rushed in.

“We have more treasure.”

Harriette stepped over to the desk to examine the contents of the bag. She took one of the jewels and held it up close for inspection. “Captain, if they’re all like this, that bag may be worth more than everything we just hauled to our ship.”

“There’s three of them.” Black Wing stated.

“The crew will definitely be happy you decided to go after this ship.” Hariette smiled. “This may be our biggest plunder ever.”

“There’s also…” Black Wing stooped to retrieve something else “this.” She set a sizable cylinder on the desk as well. “How much do you wanna bet this contains a map?”

“No bet.” Harriette replied.

“Awww…” Black Wing pouted, earning a giggle from the other woman.

Do pirates often act this… cute? Lilith wondered to herself as she watched Black Wing excitedly pop open the end of the case and pull out the parchment.

However, Black Wing’s excitement faded as she unrolled the map. “What language is this?” She asked, running a hand along what was likely text.

“No idea.” Harriette responded.

“Do you know?” the captain turned to Lilith.

Lilith shook her head. “I’m sorry, no.”

“What good is a map we can’t read?” Black Wing whined.

“However, I may know someone who can.”

“Really?” Black Wing’s eyes sparkled with excitement once again.

“Only maybe, though.” Lilith clarified. “I’m not sure exactly where they ended up. I just know they moved to the New World to study the history of the area. We’ll want to find the Plainsview family.”

“We?”

“I don’t know how they feel about pirates, but I know Aydrian will talk to me.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Black Wing shook her head. “By we, were you saying that you wanted to come with us?”

“Is it not at least somewhat common for crew to join the pirates that raided them?”

“But you’re not crew.”

“No, but…”

Black Wing pursed her lips. “I don’t think the Fallen Angel has ever hosted a guest…”

“I can help with some duties, to earn my stay.” Lilith insisted.

Black Wing held Lilith’s gaze for a long moment. “Well, I suppose you did help us secure this additional bounty.” She motioned to the bag on the desk. “And you do have a pretty mean swing…” She rubbed the forearm she had used to block the incoming violin a little while ago. “Alright, I guess we’ll see how you fare as a pirate.”

Lilith felt a sensation she could only describe as excited anticipation course through her body. All her life, she had quietly gone along with the desires and demands of those around her; her parents, her teachers, those in power, the man who had persistently pursued her hand, everyone. She had always ignored the feeling within her that insisted she do something of her own choosing. And while she had never had the desire to break the law, she had occasioned to want to do something reckless; do something exciting, go on an adventure, something different from the droll life as a housewife for which she seemed destined.

But to be a pirate? That was definitely illegal. And reckless to the point of being life threatening. And yet… for some reason, Lilith couldn’t think of anything else she wanted to do but help this pirate captain and her crew go on an adventure to wherever some strange map they were stealing from her husband might lead.

“You commin’?”

Lilith blinked and realized Harriette was gone and Black Wing had paused at the top of the steps to check behind.

“Right.” Lilith hurried to catch up with the other two.

By the time Lilith made it to the bottom of the stairs, Black Wing was already handing one of the black bags to Müller and reminding him to split it evenly with those still onboard the merchant ship. Lilith was about to join them when the sight of her husband caught her eye again.

Something hardened in Lilith’s heart and she suddenly yanked the ring off her left hand. She strode over to the captain’s body. There, she shoved the ring into one of the pockets of his coat. Next, she stooped, grabbed the man’s waist, and hauled upward. Once high enough, she pushed forward and let go, letting the man’s body fall over the rail and into the sea below.

Finally, she turned back and…

“Wait… Captain Thompson…” Black Wing took a breath with recognition. “Mrs. Thompson…”

Lilith shook her head. “Cheriseon.” She corrected, deciding to return to her maiden name. “Lil… Lilith Cheriseson.”

“Are you alright Riri?”

“Cut!”

---------

“Yoshiko-chan,” Kanata said, popping back into human form “I don’t mind some adlibbing, but please use the correct name.”

“Yeah, sorry…” Yoshiko waved away the director’s protest, not taking her eyes off her girlfriend. “Riri?” She repeated.

“I’m fine.” Riko assured.

Yoshiko knitted her brow and held Riko’s gaze, even longer than Captain Black Wing had just held Lilith’s. “Is it the name?” She finally broke the silence.

Riko couldn’t hold back her gasp if she had tried.

“Is it because of the name’s association with demons?”

Riko felt her shoulders slump and she averted her eyes.

“Riri…” The frustration was clear in Yoshiko’s voice. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I’m sorry, I just…”

“You didn’t want to cause a fuss.”

“… Right…”

“Riri, you know Chika and Yuu and Shizuku and everyone else is fine with making changes.” Yoshiko reminded, stepping close and reaching up to place a gentle hand on the taller woman’s cheek. “Especially this early into things, and especially something that makes you, or anyone uncomfortable. Wait…” Yoshiko’s eyes widened. “Have… have you disliked me calling you Riri all this time? It sounds like Lily which kinda sounds like…”

“No.” Riko stated quickly to cut off her girlfriend. “No, I love it when you call me that, Yocchan. I do. I really do.”

“Oh thank goodness…” Yoshiko let out.

“So, does that mean we should come up with a different name?” Ai asked from nearby as she shifted from the old sailor Müller back to the more familiar young actor. “What was the scheme Yuyu said they used again?” She put her finger to her chin to think. “I think they already dismissed Rimona.”

“I remember Chika-chan saying they gave up on names that started with Ri.” Hanamaru joined in the brainstorming session. “Thus why they went with Li instead. Perhaps Lisa would work better?”

“Or Linda.” Ai offered. “Maybe Lizzy?”

“Lilah?”

“Lilia?”

“Oh, that one is good.” Hanamaru nodded. “And it sounds a little like what Yoshiko-chan already calls Riko-chan.”

“So, what do you two think?” Ai asked of the other two.

“It does sound like what I already call Riri…” Yoshiko mused. “Although I’m not sure that’s necessarily a good thing.”

“Mm… but I think I kind of like it…” Riko decided.

“But if Riri likes it…” Yoshiko conceded.

Riko felt a smile tug at her lips. “Thank you, Yocchan.”

Yoshiko returned a grin of her own.

“Well, if you guys are going to be changing character names, you should probably go tell the scriptwriters.” Kanata pointed out. “And while you’re doing that, go ahead and take a break so we can get things ready for the next group.”

“I’m ready.” Ai said, shifting to the form of one of the other characters she was portraying.

“Yes, but go take a break anyway.” Kanata said. “Emma-chan and the others still need to rearrange stuff.”

“Let’s go get something to drink, Riri.” Yoshiko said, taking Riko’s hand and heading toward the wing. “This costume’s got me sweating like crazy. I’m going to have to have to work with Kotori to see if we can make something that breathes better or I’m not gonna survive when Rina turns on the spotlights. How’re you holdin’ up?”

“I’m fine.” Riko replied, deciding not to remind her girlfriend that her tolerance for heat was far higher than average, even among the monsters and cryptids employed at the theater.

“That’s good. Getting used to the shiftweave yet?” Yoshiko mentioned the wonderful invention Rina had helped the costume department create.

“Oh, right…” Riko thought the command word and the sleeve and skirt of her dress repaired themselves, by way of the garment changing back to its original form. “Not yet.”

“Anyway, after we get our drinks, let’s find some good seats so we can watch the next act.”

“Alright.” Riko replied as the couple finally made their way offstage.

---------

Author’s Note Continued: A quick reminder that Riko is a demon in this AU; specifically of Amdusias’ legion. Ai is a doppelgänger. Kanata is a sleep paralysis demon that often takes the form of a fluffy purple sheep. Yohane is a fallen angel, although that really isn’t all that important to this chapter, which is also true for Hanamaru’s status as a shrine spirit.

I did originally choose Rimona for Riko’s character name in the play, but the more I wrote it, the less satisfied with it I was. Thus I turned to some of my favorite individuals for discussing YohaRiko ideas, and @pleyah suggested Lilia, which I happily chose; thank you for that, btw. However, as I cannot make a change to a name without an in-universe reason, I ended up going with Lilith first, to get in the little bit about demons and whatnot.

Future chapters involving Riko’s character will refer to her as Lilia. And I have some plans for some offstage shenanigans involving it as well; I’ve even already had Yohane allude to them.

But beyond that... I’m not entirely sure where I want to go with this whole pirate play. As mentioned above, I’ve already started writing the introduction chapter for the third pirate captain and redhead; spoilers, it’s Setsuna and Ayumu. But the more clips I see on YouTube for the second season of Superstar, the stronger the urge is to make ShikiMei my flagship for that generation. And that would give me another redhead, which in turn would make me want to create another captain, ship and crew. And I would subsequently want to figure out how to fit the Liella girls into the rest of PoH. And the combined HtHaH/HL/TA world. And UW. And... gods help me...

[pokemonthingsandstuff]

It's generally not recommend to give Sobbles to children. Yes, they are adorable and will be loved. They are also basically walking chemical weapons that are extremely sensitive to everything. As someone who's starter was a Sobble, I can confirm that their tears are just as potent as the Pokedex states. They're a lot different in the wild, I promise, but if you got your Sobble from a breeder, chances are that thing is a result of breeding for a cute first stage and a cool last, and it never goes well.

No, seriously, the traditional Galarian starters were mostly bred to look like that. The fire buns are the easiest to explain, so I'll use them. Apparently, a couple hundred years ago, Cinderaces looked less like football players and more like Lopunnies. I say "more like Lopunnies," because they're likely a split-off from the loppers you can find on the Isle of Armor. So, you know how we have Perrserkers thanks to vikings? Well, thanks to sailors initially landing on the Isle of Armor before deeming it too dangerous to colonize, they ended up bringing a couple pokemon with them, and Lopunny's warm fur was perfect for clothes. So, with those in tow, they landed in the cold Crown Tundra. It turns out that, since loppers can learn Fire Punch and can kick hard, someone managed to turn the punch into a kick. That, combined with the fact that they could learn Sunny Day, started to convince the sailors that they could make them learn more fire moves. Since loppers are good with kids and football is a surprisingly old game, it wasn't too surprising that they learned how to play with the settlers' children over time. Bunearies began to get less shy and used their ears less and less, and used their feet more and more as they played with the children. The tundra's first settlers apparently lived quite side-by-side with some of the more humanoid pokemon, so it wasn't all that surprising that the Bunearies became less bunny and more human, and with the fire moves that they'd been learning, the first Scorbunny was eventually born. It still looked different, it was a two-stager, actually. Went from Scorbunny-looking thing to something that looked like a friendlier Raboot. It took up until the mid-1800s of the Pre-War era before it got to a point where it was a three-stager, and even then it took a lot of breeding to get a proper coat for the third stage, and it wasn't until 50 years later until they got a modern Scorbunny. The middle stage looking like a teenage punk didn't actually come by until the late 1990s of the same era, seeing as since they were popular starters who often grew with kids, and by that point teenage punks were the usual. The whole Gigantamax thing is a whole 'nother debate, but it's generally assumed that breeding unlocked a dormant gene, and that's why Cinderaces can G-Max and Lopunnies can't.

I got a little off topic from Sobbles. They're mainland Galar natives, so they'll be soooo much easier to explain. Okay, I'll make this one real short: So, in the wild, Sobbles look a little different, with smaller heads and longer tails. Out there, their crying serves the purpose of alarming their parents that there is danger and that they will be invisible until further notice. Now, their three-stager is natural all the way, but Drizziles and Inteleons are where the main differences lie. Now, because in the wild being lazy might get you killed, wild Drizzile are a lot more active, seeing as they're at the midpoint between small mildly helpless lizard and cool tall not helpless lizard. The little things bred ones have over their eye? Non-existent in the wild, but they do have their traditional frills out there. They lay traps, since they can't exactly Snipe Shot, but can still protect their siblings and friends if they think tactically, which they do. Thanks to their water bombs and traps, they're able to evolve into Inteleons, which are a lot scarier in the wild. So, they look a lot more lizard-like out there, since the human-like aspects were mostly bred in to make some... shadier jobs easier. Anyways, they're still thin, tall, blue lizards with knife tails, flight membranes, and finger guns, but instead of looking mildly like a weird human, it looks like a scary bipedal lizard that could kill you immediately if it wanted to. I don't have a good way to describe it, nor a picture, but they look less graceful and more wild. They actually live outside of the Wild Area, and are generally found in a forest or on the coast beyond the mountains just next to it, so we can actually confirm what they look like. It also turns out that this even applies to G-Max forms as well.

And, since I know you're curious, Grookey, Thwackey, and Rillaboom are just like that. There is some breeding as far as the "hairstyles" were concerned, but that's usually for contests and bands. However, nobody has found a wild Grookey in Galar, but we have definitely found Rillabooms, so we have no idea if wild Grookies look like bred ones or not. Rillabooms usually have slightly wilder hair, but that's to be expected, and Thwackies are oddly enough sort of one of the Galar cryptids because they're so rarely seen. We are pretty sure Thwakey just looks like they do bred in the wild.

[quailfence]

[Image description: Eight images. Each one has text about Grimwalkers from The Owl House in the center, with various drawings around it. Image 1: text: "Once a grimwalker is "formed" they simply turn organic via magic, just like how activated palismen are live animals instead of wood.

"Even though the ingredients used to create a grimwalker are still there technically, grimwalkers are mostly biologically the species that their ortet was, almost indistinguishable. Sometimes, however, the original ingredients' features still "show up" in unique-to-grimwalkers ways.

"Making a grimwalker identical to their ortet species is the goal but hard to achieve; the amount and severity of a grimwalker's non-ortet features often differs depending on their creator's level of magical expertise."

Drawings are of The Golden Guard mask, a bone, a log, and a blue rock or crystal. There is also a drawing of Hunter clutching his hand to his chest. On him are glowing outlines of a skeleton, lungs, and a glowing blue spot where a heart would normally be, presumably the same as the blue rock/crytal

Image 2: text: "Historically, grimwalkers used to be a much more frequent occurrence in ancient Demon Realm. The process of creating a grimwalker was like a sacred magic ritual, only allowed in special cases, so it was still very rare even back then and would have to be approved of by most of the community. However, then the tradition died off as ingredients started becoming more scarce, and most of knowledge about it was eventually lost to time.

"Nowadays, grimwalkers are considered to be an extinct species as well as an urban legend/myth by Boiling Isles habitants, a 'supposedly extinct but there's no certainty if they ever even actually existed' situation.

"(without taking Hunter into account just yet)"

The drawing is of an open book containing info about grimwalkers

Image 3: text: "The books we saw hunter read in Labyrinth Runners have some right information but also Lots of misinformation in them, since they're far removed from the direct source, based on only tidbits of actual info, and have been written by witches/demons, with no grimwalkers consulted (obviously); Lots of it is speculation, and lots of it is wrong.

"(The only actual, entirely truthful info is scrolls and books stored in Belos' grimwalker lab, but even that isn't fully complete; and Belos wouldn't have wanted to share it with the public anyway, for obvious reasons)

"Additionally, grimwalkers also have a sort of cryptid-like reputation in the Boiling Isles' pop-culture. There are stories made up about them. There are teens making pink-eyed grimwalker OCs and making up things like 'grimwalkers can shoot lasers out of their eyes' or 'they can raise the dead with their thoughts.'

"(LMAO Hunter gets a headache when he discovers all that)"

Drawings are of a stack of books and scrolls on Grimwalkers, and Hunter glaring at his handheld scroll

Image 4: text: "When grimwalkers' skin is wet for a long time, it gets a somewhat scales-resembling texture, instead of just being pruney/wrinkled. When dry, their fingertips have a sort of wood-rings-y Look.

"Witches have fangs, that emerge once they have lost their baby fangs. Grimwalkers' teeth often tend to be a combination of their ortet species' teeth and teeth resembling those of an ingredient species, like selkidomus teeth. They might be sharp, albeit differently shaped when compared to witches teeth.

"Grimwalkers' eyes are reflective and can shine in the dark."

Drawings are of some teeth, and of Hunter looking at the viewer with glowing pink eyes.

Image 5: text: "Grimwalkers' hair naturally grows incredibly fast, especially when they spend lots of time in the sun. Plant magic may also affect its growth positively.

"Grimwalkers are semi-immune to boiling water. The selkidomus scales give them a lot of protection so boiling water is not actually Lethal to them but, still, being exposed to boiling rain for a long while or full-on diving into the boiling sea may hurt a bit and prolonged contact with boiling water may leave them with blisters/burns.

"Just like stonesleepers, grimwalkers often have a slightly sensitive spot behind their ears. Also because of their stonesleeper lungs, grimwalkers are usually pretty motionless sleepers. They breathe rather slowly when asleep."

Drawings are of Hunter getting his long hair cut, and him wet and clutching a beach ball in his hands.

Image 6: text: "When it comes to human-based grimwalkers (the Golden Guards), sometimes their ears would turn out rounder and human-looking, sometimes they'd look pointier yet not fully witch-like, Belos preferred them to be round cuz he preferred 'Caleb' to be human-looking, but with time he started modifying some grimwalkers' naturally round ears to be pointier just so that they could blend in easier and so they'd believe that they're witches too. He'd 'mold' their ears during early creation or sometimes modify/cut them after, like he did his.

"(Hunter's ears are naturally pointy and generally look like a witch's ears but, upon closer inspection, the details of his ears differ from a normal witch's ears junuust slightly)"

Drawings is of Hunter's head, comparing it to that of another grimwalker and Belos, demonstrating some of the differences from the text

Image 7: text: "Palismen can somewhat sense that grimwalkers are also made of palistrom wood so they naturally cling to them more.

"(big win for mr. 'palisman enthusiast/carver' Hunter Noceda-Deamonne-Clawthorne-OwlHouse!)

"The reason why Flapjack was able to save Hunter was because Hunter's a grimwalker. If Hunter had been a normal witch or a human, Flapjack wouldn't be able to do anything to help.

"(The thing that Hunter was ashamed of and hated abt himself... ending up being the exact thing that makes saving him possible... yeah)".

Drawings are of an older Hunter colvered with palismen, and a dying flapjack on Hunter's chest

Image 8: text: "Grimwalkers are already 'harvestable' at early infancy and that's when you're 'supposed' to unbury them, for best results, but (they can technically emerge at any age they just have to stay underground and age for the amount of time).

"There were times when Belos tried to speed up the process and age his grimwalkers up faster so that they'd be of use to him quicker, but that would also often result in them being unstable; so not really a good idea. (Hunter was one of the youngest grimwalkers Belos had ever made, and that's also why he had high hopes for him lasting longer than the others; because he manipulated him since early childhood, starting in his most pivotal developmental years)

"When it comes to human-based grimwalkers, they might also have issues with eating some particular Demon Realm food. Not as much as Luz of course, since they're not completely human + after years of living in the Demon Realm and basically eating only demon realm food, your stomach would likely get mostly used to it, acclimated and all, but it probably still could result in some problems and discomfort."

Drawings are of purple tentrils coming out of the ground, Hunter crawling out of the ground, and a sandwich. End description.]

@toh-described

some grimwalker headcanons

[painted-piggy-ships-archive]

Blue Blood & Seafoam Bones

Jack Sparrow x Rex Lanning

Word Count: 1605

Tag List: @heavenshipped @fangedwife @the-schizotypal-cryptid @ghostlyvenus-selfships @f-orever-and-ever

Summary: It is revealed Rex Lanning is related to royals, and the last favorable heir of Queen Perla of Kirkcoln Isle. The queen is shocked to learn her heir is trans, thinking Rex must be a cis man trying to cash in on the royal inheritance; before she can confirm anything for herself, Jack has had enough of it and hauls Rex out of there.

Warnings: Tension throughout, the queen demanding Rex be undressed against their will (thankfully Jack avoids this outcome by nearly wounding the queen), gun usage.

Like my writing? Consider Reblogging 🔁 or leaving a nice Comment 💬 when you can! Thank you!

Rex had been rushing some stolen jewelry back to the Black Pearl when a poster caught his eye. He shoved the riches in his pockets and under his clothes as he stepped closer to read it…

Thirty-some years ago, Queen Perla birthed a secret heir. The babe's father, a doctor and a thief, was ordered to take the child and never return. Now, our queen is dying, and it is clear her current heirs are unfit to rule. If you know anything at all of what has happened to the now-grown child, make sure the information gets to the royal court as soon as possible. We may not have much time.

They paused before snatching the poster off the wall and continuing down to the docks. It was far too early for them to be caught, yet they still hurried. Once back on the Pearl, they slipped into the captain’s quarters where Jack rested his eyes in his hammock, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Rex sat upon Jack’s desk and unfolded the poster, once more scanning the words. Their own father was a doctor, and only recently had they discovered his dabbling in piratehood. Surely it was just coincidence, however…

Rex set the poster aside and emptied their pockets and other cloths of the riches they had managed from unsuspecting people’s homes.

“Ah, Rexie…” Jack yawned and stretched in the hammock, shifting his hat to peer half-liddedly at his lover with a single eye, “yer back.”

He smiled as they slipped off the desk and gently flopped on top of him.

“Mm-hm. Good haul this morning, but I don’t think we should stick around too long.”

The captain wrapped his arms protectively around his partner, already drifting off again.

“Wake me when the sun rises, then…”

Rex shook his head amusedly before burying his face in the crook of Jack’s neck.

“I love you.”

“I love ye, too.”

~~~

“Cap’n!” Gibbs’ voice shook Jack and Rex out of their shallow slumber. “Shant we be headin' out soon??”

“Oh, gosh, I must’ve fallen asleep,” Rex rolled out of the hammock and peered out the smudged windows, the sky tinged with bright oranges and yellows. He snatched the poster from the desk, shoving it in his pocket and exiting the cabin. Jack slowly sat up, shook himself, grabbed the half-empty bottle of rum nearby, and quickly followed suit. By the time he stepped blinking into the morning sunlight, Rex was already calling out orders to get the Pearl back out to sea. Jack sighed fondly as he watched him, knowing his crew and his ship would be in wonderful hands if he was ever unable to do his duty.

Once away from the pier, Rex returned to Jack’s side, showing him the poster he had snatched up.

“Have you seen anything like this around??”

Jack inspected it closely.

“Maybe...? I rarely pay attention t' anythin' that ain't a wanted poster fer meself…” Jack read over it again, much like Rex. “Seems a right shame fer the monarchy.”

He then shrugged and handed the poster back to Rex, his words obviously not holding any real weight. “Why'd ye pick it up?”

“It sounded familiar… enough that it sparked some sort of worry in me. You know, my father was a doctor, and earlier than that, a pirate. But I suppose I’m overthinking it. Could be someone else, right?”

“Ye reckon yer the lost prince??”

Rex flushed and Jack took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Ah, I didn' mean that negatively…”

“No, I-I see what you mean, seems a silly thing to worry about when spoken aloud. Surely it’s someone else… my father told me my mother was just another village skank…”

“Could've been lying t' ye…” Jack’s eyes twinkled mischievously and teasingly. Rex shoved him playfully in response.

“I’ve too much seafoam in my veins to be royalty,” Rex stated with an air of finality and satisfaction.

“‘n’ who wants t' be royalty, anyway? I know ye wouldna trade the freedom o' a thief fer the stuffy halls o' a prince.”

The two shared a brief kiss before a crewmate’s call put them on their guard. An unknown ship ahead, too far away to be identified by colours.

“Prepare yourselves, men, on the chance they’re hostile or undercover British ships,” Rex ordered, hand on the hilt of their sword.

Time passed and the two ships came side by side with each other. Rex and Jack stood on the quarter-deck, close to the railing for conversation.

“Can we help ye??” Jack called over hesitantly as he spotted the ship’s captain.

“What do you know of Queen Perla?” The unknown captain called back.

Jack and Rex exchanged glances.

“Naught!”

“… You’re a poor liar, sir. My ship or yours?”

“Yours,” Rex concluded, dragging Jack over to the ropes to swing onto the newcomer’s ship.

“I’ll ask you again,” the lady captain continued, “what do you know of Queen Perla? We don’t want any violence.”

Rex produced the poster from their pocket. “This is all we know.”

The captain nodded, scarcely looking at the poster to be aware of what it was.

“Doesn’t say, but there’s a good sum of money in for anyone who can help us find the lost heir.”

“Good sum? How much are we natterin'?” Jack hummed curiously.

“Depends on how much you can help. We’ve gathered the heir is likely female, has dark hair, is quite pale, and haled from the Summermaw district of Kirkcoln Isle.”

It took all of Rex’s will not to sharply gasp. It all fit them, except for the female part… of course, that’s the mold they were given, but becoming a pirate had freed them from said mold. The captain’s gaze caught Rex’s involuntary expression, however.

“You. Something on your mind?” She asked.

“Watch yer tone,” Jack warned darkly, half-stepping in front of Rex to protect him. The two shared narrowed gazes, hands ready to grab weapons, the moment tense.

“It all sounds very familiar,” Rex softly confessed.

“You and your crew will return with us to Kirkcoln. Willingly, or by force, is up to you.”

Jack huffed but returned to his ship to tell his crew of the change in plans, Rex following suit. The Black Pearl would follow this other ship, The Pheasant, to the island of Kirkcoln. The captain, a woman ironically named Falcon, would ensure the obvious pirate ship would be allowed to dock, under royal order.

~~~

By the time they arrived at the island, the sun was beginning to set below the dark waters. Jack and Rex were treated only slightly better than prisoners as they were separated from their crew, which was to stay guarded on board the Pearl, and put in a carriage en route for the queen’s castle. Rex nervously gripped Jack��s hand.

“It’ll be alright, luv.” Jack tried to assure them, rubbing their back with his free hand.

“What if they throw us in jail when they realize we are of no help to them? Surely they won’t just let us go… we’re pirates.” Rex spoke quickly and hushedly, anxious the driver might hear.

“We'll escape. Or at the mighty least, I assure ye, I won't let 'em get ye. I swear on me piece o' eight.”

As the moon began to rise, the carriage reached the castle. Jack had zoned out, quite bored, but Rex couldn’t allow himself to be calm. Every hair on his body stood on end in anticipation of danger.

“Bringing forth Captain Jack Sparrow, and his first mate, Rex Lanning!” A guard announced as Jack and Rex were led into the main hall of the palace. The frail queen sat in her throne, leaning forward as the two pirates stood before her. Rex kneeled, bowing his head and lightly smacking Jack’s leg when he noticed he wasn’t on the ground beside him.

“Stand,” Queen Perla commanded, and so the pirates stood. “Falcon has told me you,” she gestured to Rex, “seem familiar with the details of my missing child. Perhaps you can elaborate on that?”

Rex flushed, nervous… how should he respond??

“Can I have a moment…?” Rex asked, taking Jack’s hand and slowly turning to leave. Nobody stopped them, so Rex quickly brought Jack out of hearing range to speak quietly with him. “What should I say??”

“I... I dunno, Rexie. Follow yer heart.” Jack was at a loss, though he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to pull his weapons on anyone who threatened his darling. Rex nodded and reapproached the queen, clearing his throat.

“Queen Perla. I must say, with what that poster said and Captain Falcon has told me… it sounds very similar to my story, and who I am today… except for one detail.”

“You’re male.”

“Indeed. But my father was a doctor, and a pirate before that. And I… I, too, used to be something.”

“Quit wasting our time,” Queen Perla threatened, preparing to tell her guards to escort the pirates out.

“He used t' be a wench. But he's nah, ne'er mighty was. 'n if ye try t' force 'im t' be the thing he ain't again, I'll make me frustration well known.” Jack spoke up darkly, holding Rex close by the waist.

Queen Perla’s eyes widened. Her guards helped her stand.

“Undress him.” She commanded. Jack whipped out his gun before anyone could make a move, shooting at- but purposefully missing -the queen to create a diversion before tossing Rex over his shoulder and fleeing the scene. Rex was in shock.

“Jack, what have we done?!”

“Possibly started a war! At the mighty least, angered more royals than we already 'ave!”

[pkmn-spira]

Spira Classified Dossier: Lodestar Town / Anodyne Amusement Park

WARNING. AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED. SCANNING OF TRAINER ID REQUIRED.

...

.....

.......

.........

AUTHORIZATION CLEARED.

WELCOME, CHAMPION OF SPIRA.

An abandoned town that used to have been populated by people. Located in Cryptid Isle, Lodestar Town used to be one of Spira's known tourist hubs, partly due to Anodyne Amusement Park established there. It also used to be a place where one can spend their vacation in too, what with the clear, starry sky at night, as well as the white sand on the beach.

An ancient lighthouse, that once was still actively maintained, called Lodestar Tower, used to be a tourist attraction due to the fact that it was a well-maintained, well preserved relic of the past amidst being surrounded by modernization.

The residents in the place used to be very accommodating and hospitable, with several souvenir shops set up strategically in a way that people who come and go would end up seeing their wares, and end up buying them with a bit of sales talk from the owners of the shops. Everything used to be swell for Lodestar Town, until the upsurge of anomalous events ten years ago.

Nowadays, Lodestar Town is but a shadow of its former self. Everything it once had. The joys, the accommodating, hospitable people, the souvenir shops, all of those have been long since abandoned during the upsurge of anomalous events. See, residents of Lodestar Town are used to such phenomena. Hell, it is in the name of their Isle that already suggests weirdness in the place. However this time, it became too much to bear, even for them. Even during the ancient times when the Ancient Fear used to have plagued Ancient Spirans', only now did those people who were descendants of those same people from many years ago decided to abandon the place.

Some left for the mainland. Others left Spira entirely. While several weren't so lucky.

"Anodyne Amusement Park! The panacea for all your earthly problems! Bring your lover, bring your mother! Bring your entire family! Experience happiness unlike any other! The Golden Hour of Joy awaits!"

-Old Anodyne Amusement Park commercial

Anodyne Amusement Park. Whimsy Land, as some other folk of Spira used to affectionally call it. It used to be a place flooded with people, locals or tourists alike, due to the magnificence of the place altogether. The heart that keeps Lodestar Town beating, as its locals used to say. What used to be a place full of joy, laughter, hustle and bustle is now a place of eerie, deafening silence. As it is the place that took the most significant hit in terms of anomalous activity, the air of wrongness is powerful here. As if the feeling of being constantly watched looms all over the place.

Anomalous Activity

Various anomalous activity has been noted in Lodestar Town. Below are the list of the common catalogued ones.

Spacetime distortions

Synesthetic Hallucinations

Regular appearances of, vibrant otherworldly colors

Hands

Apparitions of children

Voices from unknown sources

Voices from within one's head

'People'

The texture of Lodestar Town occasionally 'graying out'

While quantifiable, such anomalous activity are considered as benign at best, yet extreme caution is needed, as the effect of said anomalous activities depend on the mentality of those who witness.

As for Anodyne Amusement park, the list of common catalogued anomalous activity are as follows.

Spacetime distortions

Synesthetic Hallucinations

Certain facilities and buildings within the amusement park contain liminal spaces

The same graying out observed in Lodestar Town

'Children'

'People'

Appearance of one's loved ones, often dead loved ones

The bodies in the water

The sky taking a cosmic texture

The inability to leave one place, no matter the path taken

'Eyes'

Electromagnetic interference

Alterations to reality

The feeling of being watched

The feeling of hotness/coldness, regardless of the current climate

The nigh-unrecognizable mesh of fantasy and reality

Noxious odorless gases that aggravate certain hallucinations

'Living memories'

Presence of --

Rain of unknown substance, theorized to evaporate into the odorless gas aforementioned above

Anodyne Amusement Park Assessment: Extremely dangerous. Hypnotic amnestic recommended as to ensure one's mentality remains intact after exploring the place for investigatory purposes. It is also advised to not stay any longer than 20 minutes within the area.

Status: It is under conjecture that Cryptid Isle's anomalous phenomenon would continue to grow until the source has been found and resolved. Site dubbed as the 'Anomalous Crater' by former Lodestar Town residents has been seen as the primary cause. However, due to ten years of neglect, the overgrowth from Cryptid Isle's fauna had obscured the whereabouts of said crater. Further investigation required.

Pokémon

Surprisingly, albeit supposed to be expected, the Pokemon left behind had adapted to the anomalous effects. Specific species, such as the Spiran Hypnos found in Anodyne Amusement Park display far more improved psychic abilities. Spiran Honedges found in this place are also displayed to be more tougher and more resilient, albeit tend to be more aggressive.

The local, singular Mr. Mime, has been observed to ████████████.

Conclusion

Due to the growing concern on Cryptid Isle, naval and aerial surveillance are to be on a 24/7 interval. Intruders are to be met with force on sight.

Only the Professor, the Eighth Gym Leader, Elite Four and Champion are authorized to explore and investigate the place.

Hypnotic amnestics from powerful psychic Pokémon are to be required after each trip, should Lodestar Town or Anodyne Amusment Park start affecting the individual's mentality at a concerning degree. Information on Anodyne Amusement Park's current status are not to be leaked out to the public.

[kokorowoutsu]

-- RP: @pkmn-spira

pkmn-spira:

Interesting. Her husband is the Champion of Galar? This woman sure is full of surprises, that's for sure. Pity. One SYM Asset is going down today, just because of this chance encounter, and to add more insult to injury, A Celestial Admin helped take it down. This'll put a bit of a hurdle in Team Celestial's plans... But its negligible at best. And this combat would give Team Celestial an insight on how they'd further improve the remaining, still active SYM Assets. So, SYM-01 is up against quite the strong adversaries. A Charizard, a Primarina, whose size was larger than those of its same kind, and an Azumarill that was native to Cryptid Isle. While the Primarina was already prepping up Sparkling Aria, SYM-01 knew well to avoid the Ancient Powers, even using Flame Charge to cut it close, but it did took several hits from the Dragon Tails. Receiving more damage from earlier ago already drove it to a corner, and the fact that it had to face three targets at once basically backed it against a figurative wall. Hence, SYM-01 would use Smack Down, upheaving a huge chunk of the earth, and lobbed it at Bahamut, before then using Earthquake, its lower body thrashing about underground.

"Jump." And as such, her Azumarill did leapt off the ground as to avoid the damaging tremors SYM-01 had caused. "Now, Belly Drum, and go for Aqua Jet, Asrai." And such, Asrai pounded on its stomach several times. Sure, this'd hurt it considerably, but it would maximize its attack potential. And while still off the ground, the Azumarill started blitzing forward as it used Aqua Jet, crashing down on SYM-01 full force, causing it to crash against a set of trees. Yet the SYM Asset is still not out of it yet, Morgan knew. Its symbiosis with SYM-09's virulent DNA caused it to adapt the defensive properties of one of SYM-09's available forms, as well as mutate out Filter as an ability, too. While true, its Ground/Fire typing meant it was immensely weak towards Water types regardless, however.

With Saoirse still prepping that Sparkling Aria, her bubble getting ever bigger and the creature retaliating, Ashe acted fast. Lucky kept the ground steady with fae energy for Kumiko and Willow, allowing Ashe to act as Leon and Bahamut came crashing down by sending out a pokemon in the form of a figure who cast Ice Beam like a slide to twirl in and around the creature, catching Leon and giving him enough time to call back Bahamut before he hit the ground. Knowing his partner was exhausted, he chose to hang onto the Lapras as it cast Hydro Pump to help boost Asrai's Aqua Jet before sliding the Ice Beam to Ashe's side. Sliding off, Leon laid a hand to his wife's shoulder who returned her Lapras with thanks.

"Ready?" "Ready as i'll ever be."

Both called out a pokemon each then; a Absol with many scars and ruffled fur as well as a mechanical leg, a Absolite glimmering in the rain and a Ampharos who wore a band around his neck that also glimmered in the rain. Activating Mega Evolution, the two pokemon waiting for Saoirse to finally fire off her Sparkling Aria before they acted at their trainer's commands.

"Swords Dance and then Night Slash!"

"Dragon Pulse at full blast!"

Using the attacks to form the Sparkling Aria into what could only be described as a beam instead of a orb of water, the 'kaiju' before them was hit with multiple attacks all while standing their ground for their daughter's sake, unafraid and in unison. In the last year... well, six years if you count the time distortion, they had come a very long way.

Dare Ashe tell her new found acquaintance about the old her some time ago -- a nervous wreck who barely knew who she was and with Lucky being but an Eevee, not finding his purpose until Area Zero... but those were stories best left for another time.

[weywulf]

hello friend;;

you can call me jackal. i am a jackal therian and questioning some sort of black dog kintype. i believe i am some sort of cryptid, but the general definitions of "black dogs" in folklore rub my fur the wrong way. i am not aggressive or malevolent, more protective and benevolent than anything. i know there are some black dog spirits out there like this, like the Gytrash...but they don't feel right.

i know i have tall pointed ears and my fur is either a dark brown or a black.

maybe you can help?

🐾

Hello, jackal!

You may be interested in the Church Grim, a guardian Black Dog that protects - you guessed it - churches. However, even in the Wikipedia page, it is noted that Church Grims don't always protect churches - for example, there's a folktale of a Grim that guards a bridge over the River Ure after being sacrificed to the Devil so that the bridge would not break in the floods.

Black Dogs are a shining example of what is common in a lot of English and Celtic folklore - the same creature is exclusively malevolent to some, and exclusively benevolent to others. You may simply wish to specify yourself as a benevolent Black Dog, as there are more than enough folktales of them, like the Capelthwaite and the Fisherman Guardian from the Isle of Man. There are many that actively fight injustice too, like the Black Dog of Newgate.

I hope this helps, awoof! 🐺🐺

[sepublic]

If the characters of The Owl House had JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Stands, who would have which Stand? (Note: It can be from any part in the series, not just Part 3)

First off, I just want to say- THANK YOU, because The Owl House and Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, two of my favorite things ever, in one ask? And I get to ANALYZE the two? This is a dream come true…!

I love Stands, not only for their unique designs and crazy abilities that can get weirdly specific, but also because they’re essentially a reflection of one’s soul, so they’re a great glimpse into a character’s personality! As someone who loves the characters from The Owl House, this is naturally a fun way to explore their psyche by assigning a Stand most compatible with them, White Snake-style!

I should preface that for this ask, I’m going to be using Stands from Parts 1-6. Unfortunately, I haven’t yet read Steel Ball Run, nor Jojolion; I plan to, and maybe on another day I’ll revisit this ask with updated information- Assuming that any of the new Stands I encounter and know about fit the characters more than the ones already assigned to them.

But with that out of the way… Here’s a list of characters and the Stands I’ve assigned to them- For fun, I’ve even gone over some minor named characters (although Bellows and Kikimora were left out due to there being too little to work with)! Some characters will have multiple Stands, if only because I couldn’t decide between some, or I felt like there were others worth considering. Lengthy explanations for my reasoning will be underneath the cut, as well as alternate Stand possibilities, even for those who I’ve already made a decision on!

(I’m going for best fits, not perfect ones)

Luz- The Cure

Eda- Sticky Fingers

King- Wheel of Fortune/Bad Company/Harvest/Little Feet/Weather Report

Hooty- Horus

Owlbert- Anubis/Stray Cat/Sex Pistols/Aerosmith

Willow- Strength

Gus- Hierophant Green/Emperor

Amity- Spice Girl

Lilith- Magician’s Red

Emira- Joy Division

Edric- Khnum

Boscha- Goo Goo Dolls

Mattholomule- The Lock

Bump- The Grateful Dead

Wrath- Bastet

Adegast- Judgement

Tibbles- Marilyn Manson

Bat Queen- Atom Heart Father

Starting off is Luz, the main character and personal favorite of mine! She was REALLY difficult to figure out… I considered multiple options for her, such as Crazy Diamond, Gold Experience, Heaven’s Door, Bohemian Rhapsody, etc. Ultimately however, I decided to go for a rather obscure Stand, one from the light novel Golden Heart, Golden Ring- The Cure. To put it simply, The Cure, well… Cures people by absorbing wounds and injuries, becoming bigger before eventually dissipating the accumulated hurt. I feel like this reflects greatly Luz’s very kind, almost healing nature- She helps provide Eda with a greater sense of found family, she helps ‘fix’ Willow’s situation and self-esteem, as well as Amity’s own insecurity and loneliness, etc. Not only that, but Luz also has a lot of thematic similarities with The Cure’s user, Coniglio- Coniglio is heavily associated with Alice from Alice in Wonderland.

The character of Alice is led into a new, magical world by a small creature she later befriends, and gets into trouble with the local law- Just like Luz. Coniglio herself was ostracized when she was younger, being called a Witch, which fits Luz’s initial loneliness, and of course her eventual aspirations. Coniglio is an inexperienced Stand User when we meet her, just as Luz is still learning magic. Finally, Coniglio learns to control and tame her stand, which takes the form of a rabbit- Luz is associated with small animal sidekicks, such as King or Owlbert. However, The Cure can also turn into a more monstrous form and become berserk, which in its own way mirrors Luz’s relationship with Eda, and how she has to calm her mentor and revert her back the way Coniglio did.

For a more canon option, there’s also The Sun. We don’t really know anything about is user, Arabia Fats- The most we can glean is that he’s clever, but he can also rely on dumb ideas. Likewise, his Stand is incredibly powerful, but provides almost nothing to defend him. If one goes by the Tarot meaning, however, The Sun is associated with good times, with fun and optimism, all that stuff! It’s about someone who still maintains childlike wonder… and that sounds like Luz! She’s kind, bright, and in a lot of ways a ‘light’ to others’ lives, which is also supported by her name’s literal translation!

Continuing on Tarot meanings, we can also go for The Fool- It’s about being adventurous, of starting a new journey. There’s some freedom, but also a bit of carelessness, which reflects how Luz didn’t quite fully think through her actions in the beginning of Episode 1, or her plan in Episode 3. The Fool is a bit of an outsider compared to the rest of the Arcana, which fits Luz’s outsider status as a human who somehow goes Magic anyway. And like The Fool, Luz can be somewhat unpredictable and unusual, at least to those who know her- She’s kind of a cryptid to them, what with having confetti in her pockets at all times(?) and casually revealing that she knows the infamous Bat Queen.

For Eda, I chose Sticky Fingers- Someone else on Twitter mentioned it, I don’t remember who… But they analyzed a few of the Stands of Part 5, and during their analysis they discussed how Sticky Fingers is symbolic of Bruno’s ability to connect with others, making his own path to them, zipping them together, etc. Bruno Bucciarati is a mom with a found family, which I feel suits Eda’s personality. Likewise, they’re both criminals, who willingly left a prestigious organization despite their talent and the powerful role they could’ve had in the group, as a result of moral disagreements with its ideals and leader. Plus, Sticky Fingers is a term that refers to people who like to steal, and we know from Covention that Eda is a notorious pickpocket!

On the other hand, Weather Report is also neat. It’s associated with a character dealing with memory loss, which fits Eda’s schtick and character a whole lot, what with not remembering who cursed her. Likewise, Weather Report (the user) has a brother, Enrico Pucci; The two used to have a more complex antagonism, although by Stone Ocean it’s a lot more straightforward. Still, this kind of complex sibling relationship also works with Eda and Lilith, and with Weather Report being a ridiculously powerful Stand (just as Eda is the strongest Witch), I feel it also works for her character, personality, and motifs.

King is the most interesting and diverse scenario for me. I’ve considered Wheel of Fortune for him; Both rely on an outside force, a pre-existing thing, in order to function. Likewise, Wheel of Fortune’s power is proportional to the user’s confidence, which fits with how King talks big about himself. Its user, ZZ, also made a big deal of talking himself up, being a lot of bark in order to build up his confidence… However, the moment things begin to fall apart, his confidence wanes and he basically runs away. His powers diminish, and he becomes all bark and no bite. This kind of sounds like King- Obviously there’s more courage to him than with ZZ, but generally speaking, the concept of a character who’s in over their head and operates a lot on building up their self-confidence, only for it to collapse as soon as things go wrong, fits with King.

On another hand, Harvest and Bad Company fit King’s whole desire to lead massive armies, and his claims of having been a King of Demons. Having a Colony Stand that acts as his personal army of loyal followers and soldiers fits almost perfectly; Bad Company is more militarized, representing King’s grandiose aspirations for power, and him becoming a Drill Sergeant in Episode 11 definitely helps this. It’s also associated with a lost childhood, which… King is kid-coded and he doesn’t seem to be necessarily missing out on anything, but the idea is still there. However, Harvest is less deadly, having a more animalistic appearance, being cuter, and having an inclination towards theft that King himself also does. Plus, King seems like the kind of person who’d use Harvest to carry himself across the sidewalk, let’s be real here!

Finally, I’m considering Weather Report as an option, if only because of the fan theory going around (which I’ve dabbled in) about King having once been the Boiling Isles Titan, or at least an ACTUAL King of Demons… Part of the theory speculates that he lost his memories, which fits into Weather Report’s arc. It’s about a hidden potential, that when rediscovered, can be outright terrifying. Little Feet also works with King’s Napoleon Complex.

King is an interesting character to assign a Stand to, in part because there’s a lot we actually don’t know about him, and the mystery surrounding him as a result. I feel like we once we learn more about King’s backstory and who he is, we may get a better idea of what Stand most fits him.

Horus was assigned to Hooty, not only because of his bird motif, but also because the Egyptian God Horus is seen as a protector, just like the Stand’s user Pet Shop, who acts as Dio’s main guard for his mansion; Likewise, Hooty is the Owl House’s primary security system, and ‘state-of-the-art’ no less. Not only that, but… To get into some heavy theorizing here, @fermented-writers-block has speculated that Hooty may or may not have connections to a hypothetical ‘Owl Deity’, of which we see a mural of in Episode 1. To put it as simply as possible, Hooty is either a manifestation of this Owl Deity’s power, OR the Owl Deity itself; And if so, then assigning Hooty a stand named after a major Egyptian God seems all the more appropriate. Additionally, Pet Shop himself has a helmet typically used to restrain birds of prey, and Hooty himself usually needs to be ‘restrained’; Either told to stop his cryptic riddles and just give straight-forward answers, or kept from tearing apart a canvas.

Also, if that one MSN article mentioning a labyrinth below the Owl House is true, then Hooty could also have Tenore Sax; It’s a Stand that manipulates the environment, and was used to make Dio’s Mansion look like a maze. It’s about control of one’s environment, which makes sense given how Hooty controls the Owl House itself. Hooty could also have Mr. President, as it’s a Stand wielded by an animal that provides a safe environment for others to live in- Befitting of Hooty’s role as the Owl House.

Owlbert is a bit weird, in that he’s already wielded by others; Still, he’s a part of the family, so I feel obligated to include him. Off the top of my head are a couple of considerations- There’s Anubis, which exists as a sword that can be wielded physically by the user and even others, outliving its user- That fits Owlbert’s capabilities and role as a Palisman to a staff! Stray Cat is also an option, because like Owlbert it’s an animal that’s born of plant-matter and associated with the air, albeit through air bubbles.

Sex Pistols is a Stand that needs care and attention, just like Owlbert, and also has its own personality. Likewise, the Sex Pistols support and enhance the ability of another, pre-existing tool, just as Owlbert enhances Eda’s magic and helps her focus it through her staff. Finally, we have Aerosmith- They’re both free-flying, but also very powerful and capable, and not to be underestimated. Like King, there are plenty of options for him that all fit in their own ways.

Willow was a fun topic, and ultimately for her, I’m gonna go with Strength. Ignoring its user, Strength is a stand that recognizes and unlocks the hidden potential of just about anything it finds, no matter how innocuous; Willow is a character who is meek and shy, but contains a hidden power and talent that is legitimately powerful. Strength is an incredibly powerful stand, upgrading a regular boat into an entire shipping freighter; Willow is able to turn a seed into an entire garden of powerful, thorny vines. They involve nurturing power and helping it grow. Plus, most depictions of the Strength Tarot Card involve a woman taming a lion- And I think that kind of works with how Willow may seem all gentle, but she controls and tames powerful plant-monsters. Also, a recent drawing by Dana seems to confirm that Willow is canonically buff, so that works too, alongside the Tarot’s additional meaning of controlling oneself, as Willow does with her anger!

There is also the minor consideration of Purple Haze, given that Willow has genuine frustration in her that can manifest as real, powerful rage. However, Purple Haze also explicitly hurts and shoves others away, which Willow doesn’t do- She’s kind and open and is already good friends with Gus by the time Luz appears. Gold Experience is also a very viable option, given its power of creating life and facilitating growth- However, I decided to go with Strength, not only because of the additional symbolism of hidden potential (which matches Willow’s initial, unrecognized talent), but also because of the symbolism of the tarot card. And also, Gold Experience is a main character Stand and already a pretty obvious option, so trying something a bit more unique seemed interesting.

Gus is another VERY hard one for me, like with King- It’s not that I don’t get his personality, it’s just that there are plenty of Stands that I feel could match him. For example, we’ve got Hierophant Green- Its user, Kakyoin, was lonely and is also an excellent student. He desired friends, which he got through the Stardust Crusaders- Similarly, Gus himself is talented but also expresses loneliness over being younger than everyone else, with part of his motivation for forming the H.A.S. to make friends and also provide support for others who’ve gone through the same experience. Likewise, Gus may not have the raw power that his other friends have, but he’s still plenty clever himself, like Kakyoin.

There’s also Emperor; The tarot meaning discusses a person who takes a leadership role, and its reverse is losing control of that leadership, as well as poor decision-making. This relates well to Gus’ conflict in Episode 9; Likewise, Emperor’s user is Hol Horse, who prefers to be Number Two and is aware of his own flaws, not desiring the spotlight. Gus himself states in Episode 6 that he knows what he’s about, not at all concerned that Luz doesn’t consider him as strong as Eda or Willow- He doesn’t particularly seek attention or glory. Gus is happy and content with being a ‘Dweebus’ and embraces it alongside his supporting role, like Hol Horse. Also, the kid wears a crown when he’s in charge of the H.A.S., and that’s something I really want to incorporate with his Stand’s symbolism!

On a lesser note, there’s also Kiss- It’s a Stand that makes doubles of things, and Gus has an affinity for Illusion spells that can create copies of him, tangible or otherwise. Dolly Dagger from Purple Haze Feedback is wielded by Vittorio, who is the child of his group, and represents him not being ready to handle a lot of the responsibility placed upon him; Just as Gus struggles with control over the H.A.S., as well as the isolation that comes from being a talented student who’s younger than the rest and not taken seriously.

King, Owlbert, and Gus are definitely a dilemma to me… There’s plenty you could assign to either of them, and I feel I’ve only scratched the surface of Gus’ potential Stands. The dude has range and potential, so it’s hard for me to decide given how my options are ultimately limited and usually specific.

For Amity, I went with Spice Girl. Spice Girl is a manifestation of Trish’s psyche, and her whole character involves putting up a hardened, mean, stoic façade in order to hide how scared and vulnerable she feels; A lot like Amity, who tends to push people away because of her loneliness- She mentions not wanting to show ‘weakness’. Like Amity, Trish learns to be strong in her own way, in a way that can still be soft, while incredibly strong and resilient; A form of kindness and personal growth that manifests literally through Spice Girl’s ability to make things soft yet virtually indestructible. Amity hasn’t quite completed her character arc, but she’s made major steps towards it by opening up to Luz and learning to be nicer. So, Spice Girl it is!

There’s also Purple Haze- Fugo and Amity are both high-performing students with a lot of pressure on them, who deal with genuine frustration over their situation. Purple Haze’s ability forces others away lest they get hurt, representing Fugo’s paranoia over his childhood trauma, and how he ends up ‘pushing’ the others away when he chooses not to go on the boat. However, Purle Haze doesn’t fit as well the way Spice Girl does, because Purple Haze represents a genuine rage and anger boiling within Fugo… Whereas Amity, while she IS frustrated, doesn’t seem to have particular fury, being more inclined towards insecurity and loneliness.

Lilith was assigned Magician’s Red. I looked into the meaning of the Magician Tarot card, and to sum it up simply, it’s about having talent and seeking out success. Our first appearance of Lilith has her making a demonstration to a bunch of young, impressionable Witches, flaunting her own talent and success, and appealing those traits to her audience, explaining that Witches who join the Emperor’s Coven are the most powerful and highest-ranking of them all. Likewise, she also has an eye for talent, nurturing the skills and abilities of Witches such as Amity. Plus, there’s also the symbolic relevance of her having a Stand with magic in its name, as well as one with a bird-like appearance; Fitting given her White Raven symbolism, and association with the Emperor’s Coven and its bird motifs. And like the user Avdol, Lilith also has a bit of a flair for flashiness.

Like Luz, Emira was tricky in that I couldn’t quite find a Stand that suited her, so I’ve gone with my next-best option; Joy Division, another very obscure Stand, from the same light novel as Luz’s assigned Stand. Joy Division switches objects around, which mirrors what Emira did to the librarian and Gary in her debut. It’s a Stand that’s perfect and ideal for her kind of mischief and clever tricks. Likewise, its user, Sogliola, has wealth, prestige, and status as a Capo in Passione- Emira herself is a member of the presumably wealthy and high-status Blight family.

As I mentioned earlier, Edric is also tricky in that I didn’t find a Stand that quite suited what personality we’ve seen from him. Ultimately, I settled on one good for mischief, Khnum- It’s a Stand that allows one to change their appearance, which fits Edric’s Illusion spells and that one spell he used to make himself look a lot more extravagant. Khnum’s user, Oingo, is also not exactly the brightest, and he’s associated with a close sibling that he’s always beside, who also has a Stand- Which can match Edric’s relationship with Emira.

I’m also considering Jail House Lock; It’s great for tricking and mentally messing with people by making them forget things and become confused, befitting Edric’s mischievous nature. Also, it making people forgetful can sort of connect to Edric being dumb in his own way, I guess- I dunno. I feel like Emira and Edric’s Stands don’t have a particularly deep connection to them individually, in part because there’s not much we’ve learned yet to differentiate the two, and the issue of finding Stands that fit, while trying to avoid repeating them for characters unless as a potential possibility. It is worth noting that Jail House Lock’s user, Miu Miu, has power and status- Another thing one can associate with the Blights.

Boscha got Goo Goo Dolls. The Stand is a reflection of the user’s possessive personality over their ‘friends’, treating them more like toys or pets to be bossed around with and told what to do. Boscha has a bossy nature, as seen with how she treats one of her friends in Episode 8, and likewise she is somewhat possessive of them- When King gets their attention, Boscha is clearly focused on getting back her control of the situation. Nothing is saying she can’t get along with King and he didn’t explicitly exclude her from the fun, but Boscha nevertheless chose to heighten the conflict. And of course, she initially meets King and wants to buy him as a pet, befitting Gwess’ desire for ‘pets’.

I’ve also considered Bad Company for her, for a few mostly speculative reasons. To sum it up shortly, I suspect that Boscha may have a bad situation at home, where an incompetent mother is relying on Boscha for emotional support, forcing her to essentially ‘grow up’ and be the responsible one in charge. Bad Company represents a childhood that is missed out on due to an inadequate parent that the user ends up having to look after, and likewise, it involves telling others what to do; Also something Boscha likes. However, because this is mostly speculative, I’m just going to have to go for Goo Goo Dolls for now.

Mattholomule has The Lock. Initially I considered Surface, but ultimately I went with The Lock because unlike Hazamada, Mattholomule doesn’t seem to have any particular envy towards Gus nor does he want to be him, insteading having a general desire for power and drama. The Lock reflects how he tries to garner sympathy from the other members of the HAS when his plan begins to backfire on him; It’s a Stand that’s entirely reliant on others’ perception and pity/guilt for the user.

Similarly, it’s otherwise pretty powerless, which goes along with Mattholomule’s general incompetence and failure in most facets of life. The Lock is either relinquished by the user’s command, if the victim no longer feels guilty, and/or if they’re given ‘reparations’ for the ‘damage’ they received- Mattholomule is all about getting status and whatnot. Also, The Lock functions as a Lie Detector, which can make sense with how Mattholomule lies for his own personal gain.

Principal Bump has The Grateful Dead. The stand’s user, Prosciutto, is someone who takes an older and more experienced mentor role, just like Bump. Likewise, Prosciutto is willing to do harsh things to someone underneath his tutelage, but ultimately he still takes his leadership role very seriously, wants to get the job done, and genuinely has it in his best interest to see the person he apprentices unlock their hidden potential. Bump may have extreme methods such as his Trouble Detectors and even brainwashing kids in detention, but ultimately he’s genuinely invested in the future success of his students, and will even break the law for their sake and that of a human, a total stranger.

It’d seem obvious to give Wrath a stand like Jail House Lock (given its user, Miu Miu, is also a warden), but in terms of personality, I ultimately went with Bastet. Bastet is defined by creating attractions, and is associated with electromagnetism- Which itself doesn’t just pull things together, but repelsthem as well. Bastet’s user, Mariah, is attracted to Dio because of how powerful he is, among other traits. Wrath is attracted to Eda, letting his attraction override his own duties as a Warden because he thinks the two of them will make a Power Couple; Both him and Mariah want to go big, or go home! Bastet lures targets in through their curiosity, Wrath lures in Eda by having King’s Burger Queen crown… Finally, while this is never expressed by Bastet itself, the theme of magnetism also relates to repellingforces. And Wrath is clearly repelled by the abnormal, seeking to contain the deviants of society, and is easily disgusted by something as simple as a raspberry because of the potential germs it could spread.

As an alternative option, there IS Planet Waves- Its user, Viviano Westwood, is a guard at a prison. He’s a cruel, brute-force jerk whose Stand allows him to physically overpower and smash through most obstacles and foes, and he deliberately looks down on prisoners as the ‘scum’ of society, taking delight in abusing his position to torment them. These all sound a lot like Wrath, so if one feels like Bastet doesn’t adequately capture his personality, there’s always Planet Waves as an alternative.

Adegast was given Judgement, for obvious reasons- It’s a Stand that toys with a victim’s heart and plays on their desires. That’s literally what Adegast does- Plays on Luz’s desires to be deemed special, to live out her fantasy, only to cruelly tear it away at the last second and mock her for it. Both his illusions and Judgement’s clay constructs dissolve into dust. And while Judgement is physically powerful, contrasting with Adegast’s incredibly frail body, the cowardice of Cameo pairs well with Adegast’s nature.

For Tibbles, I briefly entertained Osiris and Atum, especially Osiris given its association with card games (and Tibbles is good at Hexes Hold ‘em), and the idea of gambles in general. Ultimately however, I stuck with Marilyn Manson, which operates on a similar basis of the user winning a game and utterly defeating the loser as a result. Marilyn Manson is special in that it prioritizes material wealth, aiming to reap money or anything else of similar value; Which fits into Tibbles being a greedy capitalist who acts like he owns King and takes him without either his nor Eda’s consent, just as Marilyn Manson can be used to steal a Stand Disc that was never disclosed as part of the arrangement.

Finally, the Bat Queen was given Atom Heart Father. She was another difficult person to assign a Stand to, but ultimately I decided on Yoshihiro Kira’s stand. I get that there’s irony of Atom Heart Father having a paternal name, compared to the Bat Queen’s maternal status, but just bear with me for a moment. Like the Bat Queen, Yoshihiro is a parent, but he’s one who has concern for the person he’s looking after, to the point where his attempts to protect that person can be overall detrimental to that actual person’s growth; In this case, his son Yoshikage.

The Bat Queen has taken it upon herself to look after a LOT of discarded, rejected Palismans, among them Owlbert. However, in her concern for their plight and any pain they might go through, the Bat Queen has unfortunately projected some of her views on Witches a bit; When Owlbert wants to reunite with Luz, she interferes on his behalf, believing she knows best. The Bat Queen wants to do what’s best, what’s ‘safest’ for Owlbert, but in reality she’s only hurting him in the long run. Thankfully, Owlbert is able to stand up for himself, and the Bat Queen listens to reason.