#lars battleborn

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Lucia: You’ll have to use your instincts.

Lars Battle-Born: About that . . . I, uh, don’t have any.

[electronicdelusionstarlight]

Braith and Lars Battleborn overcome their Nagatoro Like Bully with a Crush/Bullied Loser dynamic to partake in every Nord and Redguard child’s favorite hobby:

Corpse Inspecting.

[wxlfgrowling]

👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

Hello, babies! Então, esse aqui é a minha nova cria, Sven Battleborn, irmão mais novo do Lars. Aqui, vocês podem ler uma bio bem básica dele, já que eu não quis escrever muito, para abrir espaço para plots sobre seu passado, assim como futuro, plots que espero que vocês venham até mim pedir, por favor, bando de coisa linda do tio ♥

[sirenic]

"I'm not sorry."

“Me fale direito o que você fez, Lars.” Sirenia olhava-o nos olhos preocupadamente, as mãos envolvendo o rosto do líder. Seu coração palpitava fortemente, com medo de que ele houvesse feito uma besteira. Mesmo se tivesse o feito, Sirenia não iria julgá-lo e ficar contra o lobisomem, mas algo na expressão do Battleborn lhe dava uma péssima impressão.

[ufhq-blog]

Olá, gostaria de mandar minha app mas queria saber se alguém tá precisando de alguma conexão alem das que estão no wc, porque a char que pensei em fazer não se encaixa em nenhum dos pedidos de wc

Olá, Cinzinha! Bem, fizemos uma pesquisa no nosso grupo de whatsapp e no blog ooc e obtivemos as seguintes conexões:

Arabelle Waesyarus está procurando pela sua mãe, uma faerie. (@arabelles)

Sirenia Aerwyna está procurando por irmãos ou irmãs sereias/tritões (@mermaidiiiisms)

Tobias Wolfe está procurando uma ex-namorada/esposa e/ou filhx, podendo a ex ser caçadora e x filhx umx lobisomem (@wolfesmoon)

Lars Battleborn está à procura de um irmão ou irmã lobisomem. (@wolflikeaman)

Charlotte Sky Grahl está à procura de sua irmã gêmea ou um de seus seis irmãos. (@cskygrahl)

Tristán Mafaraxas está à procura de umx descendente membrx da facção ou assistente de laboratório. (@mafaraxas)

Se alguém mais está à procura de uma conexão específica, reply nesse post, por favor

[ferluccia]

OK SO I GOT ANGRY AT THAT LITTLE SHIT BRAITH AND KILLED HER WHILE SHE SLEPT AND WHEN I WENT OUT A COURIER HANDED ME THIS LIKE 

I DON'T EVEN KNOW

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Lars Battle-Born: I can be tough too!

Lucia, dressed in mini Wolf Armor™: Just the other day you were crying about ice wraiths.

Lars, tearing up: They don’t have any arms!

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Idolaf Battle-Born, positioning Lars in front of him and Olftid: Just know, you've disappointed all three of us.

Jon Battle-Born: That’s cold, guys.

Olftid Battle-Born: And so is Skyrim. Suck it up.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Britte: We should start a club for all of us that have stabbed a sibling with a fork!

Braith: I don't have a sibling, but do other kids count?

Britte: Yes.

Braith: *Friendship Increased To 100*

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Lucia: Look, Lars, Companions have to be mean, and I don't know if you know this, but you're kind of a softie.

Lars Battle-Born: That really hurts my feelings!

Lucia:

Lars: Ohhhhh . . . you have a point. But I can do this!

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Lucia: I’m immune to mean and hurtful words because Mama and Papa say nice things to me every day, and their love protects me.

Lars Battle-Born: I’m immune to mean and hurtful words because Braith says mean things to me, so I’m prepared.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Lars Battle-Born: I got grounded for a whole week just because I came home late.

Braith: Well, you deserved it. I mean, getting everyone’s hopes up like that and then showing up again.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Lars Battle-Born: What happened to your nose?

Lucia: I used it to break Braith's fist.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

do you think the companions have a closet of like. flea and tick preventing stuff/medicine somewhere

Imagine someone opens that closet and they don’t know about the werewolf thing and they ask someone “hey why do we have all this dog stuff??? Where are the dogs???”

Hey, not only do I think that, I think it's entirely possible that they have their own mini veterinary closet, including the dog treats. The dog treats are the most important.

I'd like to thank you, though, because as soon as I read this ask, my mind start buzzing, or yipping, as the little dogs, might, and, well. . .

Chasing Tails, or Why is the Circle Like This?

Lucia's sure taking a long time . . .

Lars fidgeted in his seat at the end of the table, casting his eyes once again to the stairwell that led down to the Companions' living quarters. It wasn't the first time he'd sat around their hearth to wait on his best friend and it definitely wouldn't be the last, he was sure, but he always felt a little nervous sitting by himself as large warriors with huge blades went about their business around him. Eating, drinking, laughing . . . wrestling. The first time he'd seen Lucia's papa and uncle get into an all out brawl there on the hearth stones, he'd had the shakes until long after his grandma tucked him into bed.

A thud on the table startled the boy from his thoughts. "Here, kid, watch this for me, will you?" Lars stared wide-eyed as Ria, who was generally the nicest out of all the Companions — aside from Lucia, who insisted she was one despite only being ten — darted back up the steps and out the double doors to the Winds District. Not a moment later, the doors from the training yard banged open as Njada Stonearm — who was definitely the meanest Companion — barged in, eyes aflame like the hearth. Lars shrank back in his seat.

"Ria!" her voice echoed above the crack of the fire and the murmur of a few others talking across the room.

"Not here," called Athis, snickering.

"Jus' missed 'er," slurred Torvar.

A growl left the Nord woman's throat as her eyes swivelled round and landed on Lars, who was peaking out from behind the large satchel Ria'd left on the table. The boy's eyes bulged in horror as she took three long strides and arrived beside him, arms crossed under a face painted with a harsh scowl.

(Sometimes, a lot of times, Lars wished he was brave enough to ask Njada Stonearm to beat up Braith, but he had the feeling she'd either laugh him off — or worse, encourage the Redguard girl to redouble her efforts to kick his—)

"—dumped this here, huh?"

"W-wha—"

A hand, large and strong enough to crush his skull, shook the bag in front of him. "Ria left this here, didn't she?"

"Ye-yeah—"

"Quit mumbling!"

"Y-yes sir, I, I mean ma'am!"

If anyone ever looked absolutely done with the world, it was Njada Stonearm in that moment. Lars squirmed under her glare, but said no more, and the Nord woman grumbled under her breath. "I've gotta hunt down that rabbit brained . . ." she trailed off, eyeing Lars with a cold interest. "You. Take this downstairs and put it in the Circles' supply closet."

Lars tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry, and he let out a strangled cough instead. He choked a gasp when Njada Stonearm thumped him on the back. "Get going, kid," she said as she turned on her heel and marched out the same doors Ria fled through earlier.

With shaking legs, Lars got to his feet and hefted the satchel into his arms. There was a faint clink! clink! of glass, and he wondered if it was some kind of fancy reserve just for the Circle. He knew Lucia's mama was fond of Imperial brandies, so maybe that was it?

He crossed the hall, an easy task as Athis and Torvar promptly went back into their cups once Njada Stonearm had redirected her ire to Lars and so they didn't bother him. It was when he got to the stairs that the wobble in his knees became a full shake. Braith often told him he was infected with the Rattles and no one bothered telling him because it was more fun to watch him convulse like a half dead draugr. Sometimes, like right now for instance, he almost believed her.

One of the men barked a laugh, Lars wasn't sure which, but it jarred his limbs into motion; he eased his way down the wooden stairs, scared every moment that he'd trip, fall, and anger not only Njada Stonearm, but the whole Circle as well. His heart lodged in his throat. If he broke the bottles and made a mess of their contents, would he ever be allowed back in Jorrvaskr? Would he ever get to play with Lucia again?

The heavy door into the basement quarters was an almost reassuring barrier to the boy as he aligned his back with it, arms full of the satchel's awkward bulk. With a grunt, he thrust back, and the door creaked slowly open. When it was wide enough, he slipped around the dense oak, and once again hesitated. Now where? He didn't actually know where the Circles' supply closet was. Though, he thought, shifting from foot to foot with the wide hall empty before him, it might be down near the Circles' private quarters.

The supply closet wasn't really the difficult to find, being one of the few closed doors at the end. The other was the door to the Harbinger's room, but that'd been shut for months since . . . Lars swallowed, coughed again, and with the bag balanced precariously in one arm under his chin, he opened the door.

"What're you doing?"

"Gah!" Lars teetered forward, and if it weren't for Lucia's hand clenching the back of his shirt, he'd have fallen face first into—

"Um, better question: why do your parents' have a closet full of pet care products?" Lars asked, once he was steady on his feet and able to take in the concents of the supply closet.

Beside him, Lucia's face scrunched in clear confusion. Shelves on shelves of bottles, bright yellow and each marked with a label depicting some kind of nasty insect underneath a vivid red X, filled the majority of their vision. Lars' arms almost went slack under the weight of the bag. Was he carrying more of that stuff? Flea and tick repellent? Below the shelves was a stack of huge sacks that smelled a little too strongly of dried meat. Was that—?

"What's all this for?"

Lars gaped at Lucia. "You mean, you don't know?"

She shook her head, teeth gnawing her lip.

"Lucia? Lass, what are you doing in the closet?"

The two kids whirled around to find Lucia's uncle striding down the hall toward them. In a blur, Lucia sprinted to him, and, grabbing at his gauntlet clad arm, hung on for dear life. "Uncle Vilkas! Uncle Vilkas! Did you know about the pet medicine? Are those bags full of doggy treats? Oh! Is Mama getting me a puppy? Is that why she left for Markarth yesterday? Is she getting me a war dog so I can take him with me when I'm doing contracts? I've always wanted a puppy! The Circle always goes and visits the Jarl's kennels and I never get to go!"

"What—"

"I mean, why else do Mama and Papa always smell like they've been rolling around in a dog bed whenever they come back in before breakfast? Or when they're sneaking in during the middle of the night? Or when—"

"Lucia! What are you talking about, lass?" Vilkas, at last, cut in.

"Oh! Well, I was consalt— consulk—"

"Consulting," her uncle supplied.

"Yeah, consulting my beasty, beast, uh, animal guide before I came looking for Lars 'cause we're gonna go hunt goblins in his mom's vegetable garden when I found him in the Circles' closet, which I thought was weird because I thought this was where Papa was hiding Mama's New Life present — so maybe Papa is getting Mama the puppy? — but I didn't get to ask Lars why 'cause he was about to crash into the shelves, and then I'd have had to help him clean up the mess, and I'd rather go hunt the goblins than do chores, so . . ." Lucia rambled on, fast as a dartwing. All the while Vilkas nodded along to what she said, before at length raising a hand to hush her, his pale eyes resting on Lars. The young boy felt his knees start to wobble again.

"What's this, then?" Vilkas gestured to the bag.

"Uh, Njada Stonearm sent me down with it, sir. She um, she said to bring it to the Circles' supply closet . . ." By the end, Lars could barely hear his own voice, but whatever he heard seemed to placate Vilkas. The man took the satchel from Lars', the boy's thin arms falling limp with relief.

"I'll take care of this, Battle-Born. Lucia, you two run along," he said, holding the bag as easy in one hand as one might hold an apple. Lars couldn't help but feel a little envy at the dark warrior's ease and strength.

"Wait," Lucia's fingers twisted together around the hilt of her wooden sword. Lars hadn't even noticed she'd brought it. "I don't understand though! Is it a puppy? Is it Mama's? Will she share him? Uncle—"

Vilkas laughed. Lars never really heard the man laugh before. It was different from his brother's: deeper, richer, almost wolfish, whereas Farkas' laughter was a booming bark. The boy's brow creased at the comparisons, his eyes traveling to the inside of the closet again. There was more in there beside pet medicine and dog food, but before he could read anymore labels, Lucia's uncle shut the door and was ushering them down the hall a moment later.

"You'll know soon enough, lass. One day, when you're in the Circle yourself," he was saying.

"In the Circle? Myself?" Lucia's eyes glittered.

"Aye," Vilkas nodded. He pulled the basement door open and waved them up the stairs. "Then, and not a moment before. And lass?"

"Yes, Uncle?"

"While you're out hunting goblins, keep the little Battle-Born out of too much trouble, will you? Lad needs someone looking out for him." Lucia was already halfway up the stairs, but Vilkas could still reach to ruffle her dark ashy hair, and the girl preened under the attention.

Lars shifted about in embarrassment, but the Companion ignored him.

The two were halfway to his mother's garden, Lucia delivering a flash lecture on the nature of goblins, when a thought struck Lars, hitting him right between the eyes like Braith often did.

If the Companions didn't have any dogs, then why did he hear howling echo from Jorrvaskr at night?

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Artanis: Hey you guys! Happy hour is from for to six!

Lars Battle-Born: Um, is there alcohol in this?

Artanis: Oh daedroth, honey no! What kind of mother do you think I am?

Artanis: Why, do you want a little?

Lucia: y e s 😁

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Lucia: I’ll work it out with my parents.

Lars Battle-Born: You’re right, they’re really understanding.

Lucia, already pocketing her mom's bag of lockpicks: No, I’m just really sneaky.