#marzic ic

[goddesstrolls]

APEX03//HOWITZER05

Marzic had picked up a contract from the local guild to locate and slay a purported hellhound, but he had yet to see any evidence of the beast.

Extraplanar beasts were a rarity if they did not naturally have the ability to traverse planes, making it a bigger wonder how it even got here.

A mage’s pet, perhaps, either escaped or set on watch duty. That risked Marzic getting on the bad side of a mage, but he elected to first confirm if the beast was what the contract claimed it was.

There were no unusual tracks, nothing scorched, no animals slaughtered and left to rot- What Marzic would expect from a free-roaming hellhound. He had been scouring the forest for hours, and was finally considering giving in for the night.

His sixth sense caught wind of something nearby, and he turned his head in time to see a canine beast darting through the trees towards him.

Its ragged hide was black as tar and oozed with dark fluid. Its maw seemed to shift, sometimes one mouth and sometimes three or more, lined with sharp teeth. Multiple red slits studded its face, eyes narrowed with malice.

Marzic did not recognize it. He could understand why it might be taken for a hellhound, but he had never seen nor heard of one looking like this. It radiated some sort of energy that he could not place.

He drew his sword as the beast lunged, and he slashed at its chest. The blazing blade struck the beast’s front with a flurry of energy sparks and, momentarily, the blade’s flames flickered. The beast rapidly circled Marzic, neither harmed nor apparently fazed by his attack.

Marzic darted back, wings flaring to allow him to hover and grant him extra mobility. He streaked forward, aiming to plunge the weapon into the hound’s side.

The blade stuttered as though it had struck it into solid iron, and shattered. Marzic froze for just a moment in shock- A moment too long, as the beast twisted and caught his forearm in its mouth. Caustic tar ate through his armor and jagged teeth bit his flesh, and he tore away, the hound leaving a smoking and festering bite.

Disarmed, Marzic made a hasty retreat, streaking off through the trees until he felt a place where the veil was thin. He vanished into the neighboring realm, and there he continued to flee for some hours- Before finally returning to the mortal plane, far away from where he had met the hound.

He returned to the guild hall, to report the hound as something that should not be approached under any circumstances and seek treatment for his bite.

Marzic instead found a smoldering crater where the hall had been.

[goddesstrolls]

>> Damnit.

>> You were hunting a werewolf, a particularly vicious one at that, but it ran into the town. Likely to try to get to their hive and seek shelter, since you wounded it pretty badly.

>> You summoned your mount with a barked word in latin and tried to ride after the beast, galloping through the street at nearly full kilter. It still managed to evade you, though. You pull hard on the reins when you spot someone out and about in this rain, your black unicorn mount skidding to a halt.

"You there! Did a wolf-man or a wounded oliveblood pass through here, within a few minutes?"

[goddesstrolls]

Hunt The Hunter

Marzic flew low through the empty streets, sunlight glinting off his fluttering wings.

Having retained some traits of a rainbow drinker following the breaking of his curse, sunlight didn’t affect him- One of the very few boons of the many sweeps he’d suffered, sleepless, deathless, and slave to unnatural hunger.

He could hunt in the daylight anyway just by asking his lusus for that protection, but he supposed it was nice to maintain the effect himself.

Marzic was after one such mark today- Some mysterious killer, an undead more than likely. Trolls were disappearing during the day, and their bodies were never found.

Tracking was nearly impossible in the city, with its endless stretches of pavement. Marzic instead followed his instinct- Threads of an unusual sense that most trolls had very little of. Seeking those feelings of fear and hunger, and the shedding of blood.

He spied something in an alley. Blood and viscera, and something hunched over it.

Marzic landed near and approached. The alley was a dead end, likely used by the undead to corner its prey. Marzic would use it now for the same purpose.

The undead had noticed him before he even appeared at the alley entrance, but hadn’t moved. It stared at him as he stepped into view, still hunched over its kill.

Bright red eyes gleamed from dark, sunken sockets. The mouth split along the cheeks into a drooling, bloody maw, and hands twisted into black claws. A ghoul.

Marzic drew his sword, expecting the creature to attack at any moment. Mindless, lost to the overwhelming sensation of endless hunger.

The moment he moved the creature sprung- But not towards him. It bounded against the wall and jumped upwards, out of the alley.

Fleeing.

Marzic sheathed his sword. He couldn’t hope to keep up with the undead. Instead he stepped over to inspect the corpse.

There was nearly nothing left, just a few gore-covered bones and blood soaked tatters of clothing. Everything else had been eaten.

Marzic wrapped up the remnants in his cloak to bury. He’d carried worse with it.

—----------

Darric adjusted the lamp above his work desk, and shuffled through the blueprints again. He’d have to triple-check his math again, as he usually did, but the first draft was more or less done. 

He missed sometimes, having others around to check his work. Though he hadn’t had that since he was an engineering student, sweeps ago now.

It was time to take a break, anyway. 

He pushed out his chair and shuffled out of his work room (which doubled as his bedroom, but it was a small apartment, what could he do). 

And yelped as he saw a troll pushing open the sliding glass door of his balcony.

Tall, with straight horns and shimmering blue wings. The same troll he’d seen in the alley a few days ago.

Before he could move, the troll had their sword drawn and the tip of it pressed to Darric’s throat. Darric slowly lifted his hands, swallowing hard.

He was about to die again, huh. And he didn’t think this troll would let him come back this time.

He tried to think of something to say as his final words. No one but this troll and Nayru would hear them. 

“I’m sorry.” It was barely a whisper, his throat tight with fear. The troll’s cold expression betrayed nothing.

And then they lowered their weapon, and sheathed it.

Darric’s gaze flickered around, wondering if there was something else that made the troll decide not to kill him. His half-assed apology for nothing couldn’t have been it. He slowly lowered his hands, hoping he wouldn't get skewered if he moved.

“How often do you kill?” The troll asked. Their voice was as beautiful as they were, calm and low. It somehow surprised him more than the question.

“Uh,” Darric said. “Every day.” He swallowed again. Hopefully that was not a murder-worthy answer.

“And how many?” The troll continued.

“...One. Maybe two.”

The troll hummed faintly. There was no sign of bloodlust in their eyes, not that Darric could see.

“You kill only to subsist, I take it.” Said the troll. 

“Yeah..? Kinda. Nothing really helps…I guess it gets worse if I don’t eat, but…” Darric trailed off.

“You’re a ghoul. Nothing will sate you. But you take to it better than most.” That almost sounded like a compliment.

“So…You’re not going to kill me?” Darric asked.

“You are not a monster.” The troll replied, and Darric felt a sense of doubt before they continued. “There are living trolls who relish in bloodshed, and kill more than you. The fact that you have to kill to survive does not inherently make you a monster.”

But what if I enjoy it, too? A little voice in Darric’s head asked. Like hell he was going to pit that against this troll's logic, though.

Flames suddenly flared along Darric’s shoulders, and Nayru appeared half-curled around his neck.

“Don’t listen to a word he says,” Nayru hissed, burning eyes fixed on the troll. “He’s fae.”

The troll seemed unbothered both by Nayru’s sudden appearance and his words. “I am a monster hunter.” He crossed a hand over his chest, and bowed to Darric. “I apologize for intruding, and for following you. If you can possibly hunt less often, I would advise it. You are drawing attention to yourself, and an undead hunter will find you eventually.”

As they straightened, the troll added. “Your companion doesn’t seem too able to protect you.”

Nayru gave a bad-tempered huff.

“No, I should be able to protect myself, that’s why.” Darric rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease his own nerves. “You, uh… Know a lot about undead, though?”

“More than the layman.” The troll said, sounding somewhat dismissive.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”

[goddesstrolls]

A Lock More Complex

((Another collab with @nihils-trolls))

Marzic landed among the trees just beyond the camp, and checked his inner pocket to assure the key was still present.

By all accounts, it looked like an ordinary key. Hardly anything fit for the shackles of a godling.

The five keys had been merged into one, and now all that had to be done was to undo Ebidel’s chains. It sounded simple, and Marzic hoped it wasn’t deceptively so.

He kept the key in his hand as he walked into the camp. His lusus stood watch among the trees some ways off.

“Ebidel.”

The godling in question raises his head to look at Marzic. He’d apparently been here for some time, sat at the base of a tree closeby.

Marzic merely lifted the key, tilting his head slightly. It felt odd to be so casual about this. “The keys have been collected.”

Ebidel is quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in an utterly confused expression. “... What?”

“I have spent the last few perigees collecting them with the aid of two mages. They’ve now been consolidated…So your freedom is at hand.” Marzic did his best to speak carefully.

Looking away, Ebidel brings a hand to his face- seemingly at a loss for words. He clearly hadn’t expected Marzic to find all of those keys so quickly, let alone at all. After another pause, he speaks up again. 

“I guess it is.”

Marzic knelt beside Ebidel, turning the key in his hand. “Are you prepared?” 

He didn’t care to make any promises that this would work, nor voice his doubt in the abilities of the aforementioned pair of mages that had helped him.

“No,” Ebidel said bluntly. “But I don’t think there’s a moment I will be.” For once, he looked nervous. 

Marzic gave him a faint, wry smile. For once himself, he looked weary. “That’s the spirit.” He said softly, as he reached for the first shackle on Ebidel’s ankle and inserted the key. It popped open with a click, revealing several small mouths lined with jagged fangs present on the inner surface.

The shackle falls away and lands on the ground with a soft thud. As it lies there, it begins to disintegrate- leaving behind nothing but dust and a noticeable disturbance in the air. 

Marzic felt a dense wave of energy washing over him, giving him pause. His lusus tossed his head and pawed at the ground, nickering nervously. Marzic’s gaze flickered up to Ebidel’s face, and then he moved on to the next shackle.

The second shackle fell away like the first, followed by another wave of power. Marzic continued through, taking Ebidel’s hands and unlocking each shackle. When the fourth and final one fell away, he lowered Ebidel’s hand, and the key vanished into dust in his palm.

Now free of his bonds, Ebidel takes a look at his hands, not used to there being no gleam of metal. He studies them for a bit, as if gauging something, then glances up at Marzic. “Well, I suppose we can do two things while we’re here.”

Marzic was already beginning to stand as Ebidel spoke. He glanced down, genuinely puzzled. “Hm?”

Ebidel moves to stand himself, continuing. “You wanted your curse broken, did you not?”

Marzic’s expression immediately soured. “You are no longer under any obligation to uphold that.” He hissed, his tone suddenly sharp.

“But I’m not wrong there, am I?” Ebidel restrained himself from crossing his arms. “I may not be obligated; however, it’s something I want to do regardless.”

Whatever retort Marzic had seemed to have died on his tongue. He glanced away, eyes narrowed as he appeared frustrated. Habitually, he ran a hand along the scabbard of his sword and curled his fingers loosely about the grip. “...Very well.”

It was strangely begrudging, considering how badly he seemed to want his curse broken. However, he didn’t seem to have any intent of voicing his thoughts.

The rust shifted his weight some, picking up on the fairly obvious clues. “What, is there a problem?”

“No.” Marzic said curtly, though his annoyance made it clear there was some sort of problem. “It was just unexpected.”

Ebidel rubs his temple and sighs. “I’m not stupid. Or oblivious. Could you just… talk to me?”

Marzic flinched slightly, obviously disarmed. His annoyance had fallen into a flat, stunned look, which then shifted through a few emotions ranging from weary to regretful before finally falling on exasperation. “I didn’t think you cared about what I had to say.” 

Weariness laced his annoyed tone; He seemed worn thin, too tired to care too deeply about anything. “I arranged to handle the curse myself. That is all.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ebidel’s tone usually doesn’t have much emotion to it, but now borders on strained. He drops his arm down to his side. “I don’t know how you intend to ‘handle’ it, unless-” 

He cuts himself off, grimacing at a thought. Marzic was glaring daggers at him, his jaw set as though to say, ‘it’s exactly what you’re thinking’.

“It doesn’t matter.” Marzic hissed.

Ebidel sighs, bringing his hand back to scrub at his face. “Look, I care about what you have to-” He stops again. “I see a place where I can help, and I want to help. Alright? Just- Stand still.”

“And I am allowing you to help. I don’t know what more you want.” Marzic still found a moment to protest before Ebidel reached out to put a hand on his chest. He gave an exasperated sigh, and tried to relax, seeming exhausted.

As Ebidel lay his hand on Marzic’s chest, the sigils inscribed on his skin began to glow, reacting to the attempt to break them. Marzic winced as the curse tightened its grip on his heart, and Ebidel carefully unworked the deep, vitriolic spell.

The sigils glowed brighter, and then shattered into nothing. At the same time, the shackle around Marzic’s neck broke, and the two halves fell to the grass with a dull thud.

Marzic opened his eyes, and ghosted his fingertips along the bruised ring along his throat where the iron shackle had been.

Bringing his hand back down to his side, Ebidel squints, furrowing his brow. “Hm.”

Marzic seemed to have an inkling of what that meant already. He put a finger to his own lips, pushing them up to confirm that his long fangs were still present- Not a natural trait, but one from his curse. Despair flickered in his eyes, but he said nothing.

“Well,” Ebidel spoke up, “The curse is broken, and I was able to revert the changes it made. Except for one of them.” He glances to the side. “It’s… not of your troll nature. I can’t affect that.”

Marzic clearly understood, but seemed exhausted by this turn of events. He dropped his hand and sighed through his nose.

“No,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

He glanced aside, into the trees, raising his head and attempting to regain his composure- But his energy was quickly flagging. “I have- Something to attend to…” Marzic’s voice faded as he struggled to do so much as remain conscious.

Sweeps of going without food, sleep, or so much as water were rapidly catching up to him. His eyes rolled, and he collapsed- thankfully, not onto the cold, hard ground.

[goddesstrolls]

Last Word

((Collab with @nihils-trolls; TW for beheading and death))

Marzic walked up the crumbling stone steps, his steps echoing in the empty hall.

While he expected this to be yet another obnoxious maze, locals gave stories telling of a man-eating monster here. No one who entered ever returned.

The wayfinder charm he wore under his robe tugged him onwards, pointing him towards the second-to-last key he needed to release Ebidel from his bonds. It still infuriated him that it had taken this long for the godling to be released, requiring only the help of two mages and a particularly dogged monster hunter.

He knew, of course, there were many factors that led to this situation, but it was aggravating that he had to clean up a mess that should have been cleaned up many times over.

“Ebidel.” He spoke the old godling’s name to call him forth, glancing to the side where he anticipated Ebidel to appear.

As soon as he does, the rust seems to walk into his peripheral. Per usual, no flashy or dramatic entrance.

“We’ve arrived. Keep your wits about you.” Marzic said, and then turned his attention forward as he walked through the crumbling gateway. Normally he didn’t get much of a response from Ebidel, and so expected no comment- but the silence was interrupted this time.

“Something’s off,” Ebidel says curtly. His eyes narrow as he looks ahead into the ruins.

Marzic paused, his gaze flickering about warily as he honed his senses. It certainly wasn’t a welcome place, but he didn’t sense anything unexpected.

“It reeks of blood- of death, here. This presence feels familiar for whatever reason.” However, he continues onwards. “I agree about being cautious.”

Marzic lay his gaze on Ebidel for a few moments, taking in his body language before continuing on himself. “I was told there was a man-eating monster here. Of what variety, I am uncertain…” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes slightly as though he perhaps had a hunch he did not see fit to voice.

The step of two trolls now was the only sound. The gateway opened into a closed courtyard with a ruined fountain. Marzic’s calm and confident demeanor masked his caution; He was quite certain there were no traps here, determined as he scanned the area.

The fountain was half-destroyed, once a statue depicting a woman emptying a jar into the fountain basin. The basin itself smelled foul, a musk of putrid and ancient decay. One glance was enough to confirm that rust blood had once filled the basin, and poured from the woman’s jar. A coy smile played on her lips and Marzic could see two puncture marks on her neck, crusted with red as though blood had once trickled from them.

Marzic gave a thoughtful hum, laced with disgust.

Ebidel crosses his arms and shifts slightly at the sight of the fountain. “Are you still uncertain?” he says, gesturing vaguely to the ‘centerpiece’ of the room, tail flicking ever so slightly.

Marzic rolled his eyes and did not grace Ebidel with a response, passing the fountain and continuing into the hall beyond. 

This looked as though it had once been an archive, or library of some sort. Tall rows of shelves loomed on either side, their contents ruined or removed, tossed carelessly aside and left to molder. At the end of the room, Marzic could see some sort of stone table; An altar, perhaps.

He slowed at the entrance to take in the room, searching for the suggestion of other exits before continuing in.

There were two doorways; One, large and arched, seemed to lead downwards and was gated shut, though the bars looked so decrepit that Marzic thought he could brush them aside with the back of his hand. The other had a massive shelf thrown in front of it, an obvious attempt at a barricade.

Falling in behind, Ebidel locks his gaze on the altar for a moment- that is, before heading over to the barricaded door. An annoyed hum escapes him as he crouches to heave the shelf out of the way with little effort.

“So much for stealth,” Marzic remarked icily, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword as he watched.

“There’s no other way out from down there.” Ebidel says back, flatly- as if he already knew that.

Marzic narrowed his eyes and walked up, pausing again a few steps behind Ebidel. 

“You do not have to be here.” He said quietly, his tone pointed.

The rust looks back, a slight scowl resting on his face. “If I’m right about what’s down there, I want to be here.” He then opens the door and moves ahead.

Marzic did not respond; He just took his hand from the hilt of his sword, and followed Ebidel down.

The steps led into pitch blackness. Water from somewhere above dripped intermittently against the ruined stone tile of the hall below. A corpse, long desiccated, huddled at the foot of the stairs. Marzic paused to lift its head, disturbing dust and dry bones- Noting the jade accents on the troll’s ruined clothing, and their long curved canines. He could see no injuries; Starved to death, perhaps.

He looked up to see Ebidel disappear further down the hall, seemingly on a mission.

Marzic continued to follow without a word, keeping an ear out for signs of starved rainbow drinkers that had managed to survive whatever happened here. The hall stretched on into darkness; At its end was a barricaded door, lit with runes drawn in rust blood glowing brightly despite their age.

Ebidel stands at the door, backlit somewhat ominously by the red glow. 

Marzic paused behind him again, eyes on the obvious seal on the door. He had a few ideas on how to bypass this, but those were more forceful than perhaps was needed now. He watched Ebidel’s turned back, waiting.

After a moment of staring, the godling cuts his arm- drawing the blood into shape. It flows and solidifies in his hands, into the shape of a sort of oversized hammer. Marzic’s ideas were likely less forceful, given he then draws back the weapon and slams it against the door.

The runes project a translucent, red barrier at the moment of impact- one that begins to crack and shatter. The glow then fades, leaving the two of them in darkness once again.

Marzic gave Ebidel a half-second, wondering if he were about to hit the door with the hammer again, before drawing his sword. As he drew it, spectral flames blazed to life, wreathing the weapon in brilliant orange light.

He shouldered past Ebidel to thrust the blazing blade into the now unprotected door. It sank through as though it were made of soft clay, and not solid wood and metal. The flames consumed the wood with unnatural speed, reducing it to ash in mere seconds, spreading outwards from the point the blade pierced.

Beyond was a small stone room lit only by a few candles upon a raised altar. A decrepit troll stood with his back to them, gnarled hands raised and rasping whispers permeating the dark.

The troll, dressed in ancient finery reduced now to rags and wearing a ram’s skull mask painted with jade blood, turned to face them both, clutching his knurled staff in both hands. 

“Ah, my esteemed guests…Welcome.” The troll rattled, his voice a hoarse whisper, as though he hadn’t spoken in a millennia. His gaze behind the mask seemed to flick from Marzic, to Ebidel.

Not humoring the old troll, and clearly unamused, Ebidel’s hammer shifts to a scythe instead. A low growl escapes him, but no words.

The troll tilted his head slightly, the crooked smile on his face obvious despite being hidden behind the mask. “Come now…There is no need for such hostilities.” He extended a ring-laden hand to Ebidel, but his attention was on Marzic. “He is useful…No? You have me to thank.”

Marzic did not respond nor react, his expression utterly neutral. It was clear the old troll was trying to intimidate him in some sense- Implying that he had the power to chain a godling.

Power that Marzic wagered had likely long since decayed, or he no longer wielded. 

He stepped into the room, lowering his sword and standing aside. The old troll’s gaze followed him. Though, it should have been kept on the aggravated rust.

In a flash, Ebidel leaps forward and lashes out against the cultist. His scythe meets the staff that was raised barely in time, failing to fully block the blow. It cuts into the rod and his shoulder, drawing vibrant green blood.

Marzic sheathed his sword and merely watched, the flames dying away. Meanwhile, Ebidel continued his rageful assault.

“How dare you-” Hissed the old jade, struggling against the force of the blow, spitting furiously at both of them as though Marzic could be intimidated or reasoned into calling off the enraged godling. He made no such motion.

Clearly ignoring anything he had to say, Ebidel raises his scythe to cut downwards again, breaking the staff and cutting clean against the troll’s torso. Blood spills heavily from the deep gash, splattering across the floor.

He stumbled back, barely catching himself on the altar behind him. Clearly his efforts had been put towards merely preserving himself against the sands of time, and maintaining his power had fallen by the wayside. 

He made a final, desperate glance towards Marzic, who flatly met his gaze through the dark eye sockets of his ram skull mask. In a last ditch effort he raised his broken staff with a wild cry, a bolt of energy flying from the staff’s head.

In the same half-second, Marzic drew his sword, slashing into the bolt and deflecting it into the stone wall. The cultist fell backwards, thrown by his own spell, final moments spent watching his fatal failure reflected in the sheen of Ebidel’s scythe. 

It was raised to the level of his neck; clearly, he was waiting for just the right moment. In one fell swing, the blade slices cleanly through with little effort. The old troll’s head rolls forwards and onto the cold floor.

Marzic relaxed, sheathing his sword once more. He strode silently past the old drinker’s corpse and to the altar, upon which sat an old tome and a few other items belonging to the ancient cultist. 

He glanced over the tome, noting- With his limited understanding of the old tongue- That it seemed to be a timed, highly destructive spell of some sort. A bomb that was likely to be set off when they entered, but had been interrupted.

There were clearly magical items strewn about the altar- A wand, an athame, a strange-looking silver needle- That would make any adventurer’s night. Marzic ignored these as he instead opened a small chest sitting on the altar, the wayfinder charm under his robe tugging towards it.

The chest was unlocked. Inside, on dusty velvet cushioning, sat an old metal key; Ornate, with the bow marked with the ancient rune meaning ‘3’. After a moment’s inspection to assure there was no curse on the key itself- Marzic didn’t put it past the old bat- He removed it from the chest and tucked it into the inner pocket of his robe.

Then, he turned back to Ebidel, who was occupying himself with stomping the cultist’s skull in.

“Do as you will. I am done here.” Marzic walked past him, back into the hall. He might worry that the troll was a lich- But nothing in the room seemed to radiate enough magical energy for that, and he had little desire to scour this place looking for something that might not exist.

The godling, now still and covered in jade, made no response- letting Marzic go without another word for the time being.

Marzic paused, and looked back at him again once he reached the doorway- But if he had anything to say, he held his tongue, and disappeared into the dark.

[goddesstrolls]

Ritual

((TW for gore and self-mutilation))

Marzic knelt amongst the trees, his pale skin appearing to glow in the dappled moonlight. 

He’d removed his armor and shirt to avoid them getting stained, and he knelt before a flat river rock. On it sat a bowl of water, a rag, and a whetstone which he rhythmically ran the edge of a hunting dagger against.

With some proper food and rest, he had regained the strength that failed him after his curse was broken. And then with his newfound energy, he went to Arctus to fulfill the last of his current obligations. 

Marzic had promised his sword- A priceless and powerful artifact attached directly to his lusus. It was both payment for his aid, and it was his means of assuring the sword went to good hands.

He hadn’t intended to be around to keep watch over it once Ebidel was freed, after all. But of course the godling had his own ideas, and broke Marzic’s curse- Meaning he didn’t have to end his own life in order to break it himself.

And Marzic kept his word, offering the sword to Arctus even though he would continue as a monster hunter- Arctus refused, saying the weapon had been offered under the assumption Marzic wouldn’t need it.

Seeing as Marzic felt Arctus and Quilis had done the bulk of the work in finding the keys to free Ebidel, that left a debt which needed paying.

Marzic lifted the hunting knife to check the edge. Satisfied that it was razor sharp, he pulled his long hair forward over his shoulder. He reached back and took one wing, lifting it carefully, and then positioned the knife near the base.

He re-situated the knife until he felt the cold steel of the blade flat against his skin. He took a breath to relax his body thoroughly, and then plunged the knife into his flesh.

Breathing carefully and moving slowly, he slid the knife through the connective tissues holding his wing. With the close proximity to his spine, there were many nerves at the attachment. The pain was white-hot and searing, sharp as the blade he was using to sever the nerves.

Whenever his hands shook too much, he paused to breathe before continuing. Even after the first pass, his wing was still firmly attached, clinging by some stubborn, aching sinew like a loose tooth.

Marzic made his second pass and tugged his wing free of the viscera barely holding it in place, and then laid the appendage out on the stone.

Blood trickled down his back from the aching, deep wound. So much as shifting his shoulder was painful, the muscles gouged deep and part of them cut away. But, it would heal, and his wing would regrow.

Marzic inspected his severed wing for damage. The many paneled membranes glittered in the moonlight, shifting in hues of brilliant blue. Seeing no harm had come to it in the removal process, Marzic cleaned and cut away the gore at the base, leaving a clean ball-joint nub. 

Free of the blood and viscera, it was easy to forget that this had been attached to him by nerves, vessels, tissue; and that was exactly what he wanted.

Marzic cleaned the hunting knife and ran his thumb over the edge to check it again.

Then he reached behind his back, exhaling as he lifted his other wing, and repeated the process.

[goddesstrolls]

hi Marz, are you by chance fond of any sweets?

"Not particularly."

>> You were when you were younger, but you've since outgrown the taste for it.

[goddesstrolls]

Doppelganger

Entry # SF-TL-11 Class: Shifter Subclass: Troll-Like Author: The Bloodfey

Physical Description: A doppelganger's true form is, perhaps, a shadowy and indistinct form of the last being it copied. Or, perhaps, it does not have one at all. Doppelgangers take the shape, memories, and place of the creature they consume, luring creatures into a false sense of security before consuming them too.

Behavior: Doppelganger are beings aligned with the shadow plane, but do not always hail from it. They are not intelligent, and only capable of mimicking intelligence and the behaviors of their victims- Down to being able to 'recall' memories.

This 'memory' is short-lived and is destroyed when the doppelganger is sufficiently wounded enough to shed its disguise, or consumes another victim. The doppelganger itself has simple priorities: Feed, reproduce, survive.

A doppelganger's mimicry may be indistinguishable from the original's behaviors until it is faced with something that threatens one of its above priorities, especially survival. Where a troll might have courage, a doppelganger might instead flee when it realizes it is under threat, even if it previously appeared courageous.

When not hunting, doppelganger lurk in dark and damp places and produce young. Nesting doppelganger lure or stalk individual creatures to secure a form, and then re-integrate into the creature's society in order to feed further. A doppelganger infestation can be identified by trolls disappearing, reappearing suddenly in a strange location with no memory of where they were prior to being found and otherwise acting strange, and then disappearing again along with another troll or animal.

Abilities:

A doppelganger's primary ability is to shape-shift. It drowns a victim in its shadowy body and drains it of its life force, reading its memories and behaviors.

Doppelganger are capable of mimicking the behavior, personality, and memories of its victim.

Strategy: If you suspect a friend of being replaced by a doppelganger, first assure you are never alone with them. Young doppelganger may wait weeks before striking, while adults will strike much sooner. They may strike while their prey sleeps, or when they have their back turned.

Doppelganger hate the sound of metal scraping on certain surfaces, such as metal or enamel, and they also dislike bright light and fire. Look for a sudden aversion to these, a sudden change in priorities (Such as a workaholic suddenly finding their work no longer important), or unusual cowardice or nonchalance.

A doppelganger will always revert to its true form upon death. In some cases, even serious injury is not enough to force a doppelganger to revert or flee, and the creature's reaction to injury should not be taken as a reliable confirmation of whether or not it is a doppelganger.

Aversion to bright light, injury by positive energy, fear of fire, and unusual irritation when presented with the sound of metal on metal are the most reliable signs, and use of magic to force it to revert may also be possible.

[goddesstrolls]

Marzic have you ever injured your wings? What's the healing for those look like?

"I have." ((TW on the link for gore and self mutilation))

"They rarely heal properly, but if removed they will regrow within a matter of weeks."

[goddesstrolls]

Marzic sat at a table in the guild hall, listening in on some commotion near the entrance. A pair of monster hunters- Apparently competent ones, judging by the fact that they seemed to take up every moderately challenging job the moment it was posted.

They’d returned wounded and unsuccessful in their hunt- One of them apparently deafened, and the other suffering acid burns.

A shrill devil, by the sound of it. A tricky, dangerous type of wyvern with an acidic saliva attack and a deafening shriek.

The guildmaster here had declined to give Marzic any job remotely dangerous or challenging, delegating him to hunting obnoxious lusii and refusing to give him any chance to prove his capabilities. He decided to take advantage of the confusion, and approached.

“Where was the nest?”

One of the older guild members who was presently trying to gather what happened to the two hunters shot Marzic an annoyed look. Marzic tilted his head, waiting for a response, and the burned hunter pointed vaguely outside.

“Off east, by the river. We didn’t even manage to hit it.”

That was information enough. Marzic turned and began to walk out the door.

“It’s not on us if you turn up dead!” The older guild member called after him. “The contract’s not yours.”

Normally, he didn’t bother tangling with this sort of drama- If he weren’t given jobs, he’d simply go elsewhere. But these nights his options were severely limited, and this was the most promising for work that was suitable for him.

“Eh, let him have a go at it.” The burned hunter waved a hand dismissively. The deafened one looked between the trolls gathered and then looked at Marzic as he left. 

“What’s going on?”

—

Finding the devil’s den wasn’t difficult. The two hunters had left an easy trail for him to follow, and from there he could find evidence of the devil’s presence. By the size of the tracks and territorial markings, it was a full-fledged adult- Perhaps a female that set up a den hoping to attract a roaming male.

It was certainly too close to town to leave it alone, especially if it bred. Highly territorial and aggressive, the beasts would chase out- Or kill- Any trolls that wandered into its territory.

And considering how established its territory was, driving it away would be a near impossibility. It would stand its ground and fight until it dropped.

Marzic stopped his ears with monster tallow first. It would block the harmful effects of the creature’s shriek without affecting his hearing too severely. He had no defense against the acid, save for his own agility.

It was likely to be agitated still from the first two hunters, which would make it easier to rile up. He flew above the trees, following the beast’s trails until they converged on a rock overhang.

Marzic landed directly outside the cave. The devil crouched inside, and the moment his boots hit the ground its head snapped up.

It looked a black wyvern. The moment it laid eyes on him, it shrieked, revealing the bright pink of its maw interior, and flaring purple fins on either side of its head. It stormed out of the cave, wings and fins flared in a manner to make it seem much larger than it was. It tracked his movements carefully- If he got close, it would lash out at him well before he could make any attack.

Marzic backed off, and threw a knife at it. The blade sunk into the beast’s shoulder, and it shrieked again at him, lashing out to bite him. If it landed, it could easily close its jaws around his torso and shake him violently enough to break his neck.

He dodged the strike easily, wings fluttering rapidly to improve his speed. He hovered, remaining just within range to bite but avoiding going too far back- It would just spit acid at him, if he did.

He threw another knife, this one sinking straight into the eye socket. The beast screamed and thrashed its head, and spat acid aimlessly. Marzic had to dart backwards to avoid the wild spray of caustic saliva, which ate clear through the leaves it splattered on and smoked on the ground.

The devil charged him wildly with a guttural cry, lashing out with the razor-sharp foreclaws on its wings. Marzic couldn’t afford so much as a nick from them- The toxins they contained were potent, and more than enough to kill a grown troll with just a small scratch.

Marzic ducked under the claws, sidling beneath the beast’s exposed neck. He drew his sword, and sliced clear through the tough hide and sinew in the same stroke.

The devil’s headless corpse sank to the ground, silenced. Marzic straightened and sheathed his blade- The white flames blazing around it prevented any blood from staining the weapon.

He investigated the cave just to assure there was no nest, nor sign of a mate, and then returned to the devil’s corpse.

Working quickly and carefully, he carved out the beast’s acid and venom glands- There was a significant amount of fluid built up in both from the creature’s agitated state, and they could be sold for a good price.

He picked out a few other organs which had some use- The liver was touted as being a potent cure-all, though Marzic never saw any proof to this claim, and the mucus surrounding the larynx was also said to be a miraculous sore throat cure.

He bottled the glands and wrapped the organs cleanly in wax paper and thread, and tucked these away to sell. The head he tied to his belt as proof of the devil’s death, and then he dragged the corpse to the edge of its territory.

It had chased away most other creatures, but at the edge of its territory it would be more likely to be found by scavengers. The rest of the beast was mostly not worth the effort to salvage, though perhaps other guild members might like to.

Marzic cleaned the tallow from his ears, and then returned to the guild hall.

The elder guild member was apparently bickering with a mage over the cost of repairing the deafened hunter’s hearing. The burned hunter was now bandaged, and trying to relay the argument to their friend.

The deafened hunter noticed him first- And pointed directly at the devil’s head hanging on his hip.

“What the fuck?!” They shouted, likely unaware of how loud they were. This caught the attention of everyone else in the room.

The elder guild member stared as Marzic strode up. “That was only an hour. There’s no way you killed the devil.”

“No, that’s it.” The burned hunter pointed at the devil’s head. “There’s the frills. How’d you do it? We couldn’t even get close!”

“Monster tallow to block its screaming. I took its acid and toxin glands as my payment. The rest is yours if you care to claim it, use it to pay for your treatment. It was your contract, after all.”

Marzic shoved the head into the hands of the burned hunter, and turned to leave without another word.

[goddesstrolls]

Jabberwock (Plural Jabberwocky)

Entry # DR-FA-08 Class: Draconid Subclass: Fae Author: The Bloodfey

Physical Description: A large dragon with a flat face, bulging pale eyes, and four long limbs. It has bat-like wings and whiskers or tendrils surrounding the face. It's hide is typically smooth or with small scales and green in color.

Behavior: Jabberwocky hail from the fae realm neighboring the material plane, where the nature of reality is more pronounced; Where the imagination, dreams, and nightmares of the material plane become real. Even in this realm, Jabberwocky are considered rare, and terrible. They should not be sought unless the circumstance is dire.

Jabberwocky are intensely keen creatures which crave violence and destruction, and visit the material plane to fulfill this one purpose. They create remote dens in forested areas and leave once per week to raze nearby settlements. While one can rest assured that the Jabberwock will not return within the span of a week, they can know that it will continue to return until it becomes bored- Which may be perigees, or even sweeps.

For this reason, evacuation of nearby settlements and leaving the Jabberwock alone is a viable strategy; With no interesting targets, the creature may return to the depths of the neighboring realms.

Abilities:

The Jabberwock can fire potent beams of energy from its eyes, searing through even the toughest armor and burning the victim badly.

It can shriek and babble in tongues both knowable and unknowable, scrambling the keenest minds or outright melt the brains of the weak-willed.

Their tough hide repels all weapons, save for those aligned with ruin.

Their violent thrashing creates powerful winds surrounding them, knocking away their adversaries.

Immune entirely to fire; Acid, electricity, and sound damage have little effect

Strategy: If you are able, advise those in the Jabberwock's path to flee while they still can. If that is not possible, only then should you consider fighting the Jabberwock.

Even the most skilled of hunters should not even consider tackling a Jabberwock alone.

All members of the hunting party should use ice magic of some form, or ruinous weapons. They should be of stronger ilk or wearing heavy armor to avoid being knocked away by the winds whipped up by the Jabberwock, and should remain close to the creature as ranged attacks are rarely effective.

The Jabberwock may possibly be frightened off by use of ruinous weapons, as it knows its weakness.

[goddesstrolls]

>> You stand in the snow, listening.

>> More than listening. Honing all of your senses- Including the ones more trolls don't have much of- On your surroundings. Your mark this time is a tricky one, capable of becoming both invisible and intangible. But that doesn't mean it can't still be sensed, or lured.

>> You notice something behind you and whirl around, half-unsheathing your sword before you realize it's only a troll.

>> You sheathe the blade, but keep your hand resting idly on the grip. Your breath escapes your lips in a white cloud and drifts away on the wind.

"You should not be here."

[goddesstrolls]

Oh, you had a mentor, Marz? Also, you kinda trailed off there. Like you were going to say something else.

"I did, yes. As with everyone else, it's unlikely she's still alive."

"...Facing a detestable end, I find it hard not to wonder what she would think about my fate."

[goddesstrolls]

Hey Marz, is there a monster that you're most familiar with? Or just have a respect/liking for?

"On a general level I have taken it upon myself to become familiar with fae creatures. They were uncommon in this world before, and even more rare now. I doubt that the old 'superstitions' survived to modern night either. I'm sure there's more than a few that love to take advantage of this."

[goddesstrolls]

>> You find yourself being accosted by a noble of some sort. Well, by accosted, you mean being gripped by your throat in the middle of the street.

>> A fuchsia, dressed to the nines for whatever reason- You suppose to show off his wealth- Happened to catch a glimpse of your wings under your cloak when you passed.

>> He decided to snatch you by your neck and is currently insisting you join his 'collection'. Something-something about how he'll take care of you, you won't make it otherwise as a mutant.

>> You open your eyes for a moment just to roll them. The other trolls on the street have backed off, forming a ring- Some pulling out those flat little devices they all carry and pointing them towards you both.

>> In a split second you have your sword drawn, twirled in your hand and then you're running it through the fuchsia's wrist from the top before he can manage to let go. You whirl around to face him, dancing a few steps back and flicking the blood off your blade.

"I see no one taught you how to act proper. Shameful for a troll of your stature, to accost someone on the street."

>> The fuchsia looks angry and now confused, retrieving his own weapon. It looks like you're in for a fight, even if you'd rather not.

[goddesstrolls]

Marzic attempts to end his curse; TW for suicide attempts, descriptions of dying

Marzic lay on his back on the cold stone floor, staring up at the dark ceiling.

He'd been here for... At least a week, now. He had tried everything he could think of to end his own life; Thought up elaborate ways to circumvent his own regeneration. He'd burned himself on a pyre, screaming all the while; Never quite dying despite being scorched to a featureless husk, and then healing in a mere hour.

He had crushed his head beneath a heavy stone, but remained some form of conscious, able to feel and move his body for a while. It faded out and, when he came to, he had regenerated.

He tried to keep his sword stuck through his heart, but it kept beating regardless. He tried to hang himself, but even though he couldn't get a single breath for hours, he still didn't do so much as fall unconscious.

Nothing was going to work. Marzic had known that from the start; Having been killed once already by a fellow hunter, and then returning despite her stake through his chest and burying him six feet under. He'd dug himself out in a drawn out, blind panic, and only realized the entirety of what happened after.

He knew, too, that he wasn't fully resolved to die.

He just didn't want to live like this. Alone, starving, for eternity.

So, the only alternative was to live, and break this damned curse. There was no easy way out.

Marzic walked up to the large stone he'd rolled in front of the crypt, a precaution in case he lost himself and went feral during his attempts- Which would have been a mercy. He shoved against the stone, and it didn't budge.

He pushed against it again with all his might, forcing until he thought he might break his own bones with the strain of his muscles pulling against them, and still the stone did not budge.

Marzic took a step back, trying to wrap his mind around this new conundrum.

Perhaps his attempts to die had weakened him. Perhaps someone heard his screams and blockaded the entrance.

He attempted to dig his fingers under the stone to get better leverage and pull it aside. He tried his several more times, his fingers just slipping off the unmovable stone- Until he scoured his fingertips raw and began leaving streaks of blood on the stone.

He kept trying, clawing desperately over and over, trying to find other ways to get leverage or move the stone.

A feeble trickle of dawn light from a tiny gap in the ceiling eventually told Marzic he'd been trying for hours.

He didn't need to sleep, drink, or otherwise rest. He didn't even need blood, technically.

He could try for hours more. For days more.

For sweeps more.