#more sap from elf? at this hour? its more likely than you think

[syncopein3d]

The Warm One 6: Spring Campaign

Part 5: Would You Say No

CW/tropes: living weapon, nonhuman caretaker, female whumpee, discussion of past noncon, intimate/nonsexual touch, servant caretaker, traumatic restraints, dry heaving

The snow melts sooner than it feels like it should. The army can march while it’s still on its way out, decaying in gray and listless drifts. So now they are on their way to Althaen. It would suit the Master’s consequence better for Aldo the Orc to ride, as he will ride himself, but the Orc he has given the Wrath of the King for her plaything and servant obviously can’t ride. What Orc can? And besides, only the war horses trained to wear armor are big enough, and definitely no one is sacrificing one of those.

Fortunately, while the scarring of an old arrow wound in his thigh prevents Aldo from running as fast as he could when he was a soldier, he can walk fast enough to keep up with the wagons. He doesn’t even seem to mind, trundling along with a knobbly walking stick that the Master insisted at least be polished and varnished.

The weapon can see him through the open curtains at the back of the ornate wagon where she rides. She is shaded from sun and wind, but the great sword and sickle on the crimson banner outside is there to let everyone know what is in this specific wagon. The whole thing is painted black. Gilt trim glitters in the late afternoon sun. The bars of the back door are gilt-plated, too. They’re thin enough that she thinks Aldo could probably bend them. They’re not really there to keep her in. They are there to remind everyone how valuable and dangerous is the work of the Sorcerers of the Kingdom of Man. The back curtains are velvet. There’s a solid panel that can slide across against the possibility of snow or arrows, but unless that happens, she is there to be seen as they travel, trying not to be sick as every movement jostles her. Her red traveling robes are a little less ornate than her daily clothes, plain velvet instead of beaded brocade. The backing of the fabric scratches her arms. The tulle of her shift scratches almost everywhere else. The pins in her pile of braids poke and prod with every jolt. The pile of cushions she’s sitting in don’t really help. They’re stiff and shiny with embroidery.

After hours of this, only the sturdy reinforcement of her corsetry keeps her upright. Her entire world is the branched scar that covers the front of her trunk. It throbs and almost seems to writhe. She has no clear idea of when the day will end. This is their fourth day of travel. Soon they will reach the border with the kingdom of Althaen.

The army stretches out all around them, ranks of Humans and Orcs and the occasional taller Gnome. There are a few officers that are Elf or Ifrit, all on horseback, resplendant in their acid-etched gold and black armor. The Orcs all have one mail shirt each, and a helmet that doesn’t cover their faces. Aldo doesn’t get any armor. He gets to walk, like a soldier, but go without protection, like a servant. The weapon knows the Master likes that, reminding her every moment how easily his gift can be taken away from her.

At last, after what seems like years, the wagon starts to turn, the army pinwheeling around it into a form more conducive to digging lavatories and setting up tents. The weapon crawls to the back of the wagon to hold onto the golden bars. Her golden bracers feel heavier than ever, sapping even that bit of her strength. Aldo comes closer, leaning on his staff.

“You’ll be out soon, Milady,” he said. “I’m going to help them set up.”

She nods, still struggling not to throw up. She watches the Orc lean his stick on the wheel of the maids’ wagon as he goes to help the other manservants. He is allowed to wear embroidered wool instead of velvet while they travel, and he is obviously more comfortable in it.

It takes a while to set up, but at last the red silk tent is finished, and the Master of Sorceries comes to ostentatiously unlock the cage bars and hand her out. She doesn’t know what art keeps him younger than her thirty-four years when he was a grown man at the time of her birth, but it must be something terrible. All magic is.

“We come to the Field of Thearn in two days,” he tells her. “The Althaenir await us there. They know we have never been defeated, but not how. Won’t you be excited to surprise them, little one?” She leans on his arm, but he is thinking of future glory, half-dragging her toward the tent.

“Yes, Master.” She struggles to keep sarcasm from her tone. He still has the ability to ruin her night. “I still hunger.” That tone doesn’t have to be faked. She knows what is coming, and hates it, and wants it so, so badly. Aldo, holding the tent flap for them, looks at her curiously. He’s never heard that note of trembling desperation in her voice.

“There’s my good girl.” He stops to look down at her, finger under her chin. She knows what he wants. He has wanted it since she was grown. He has never been stupid enough to do it. She looks back up at him with exhaustion and indifference, fighting to keep down disgust. If he kisses her she really will throw up, she thinks. But at last he drops her arm abruptly, leaving her swaying, and turns and strides from the tent.

“I pity whatever woman he’s keeping,” she tells Aldo, as the maids rise from the traveling trunks to come and get her out of her robes and take her jewels and hair comb. She hisses in agony as the shift peels away from the scar. Dried blood was holding one to the other, as it turns out. It forms a horrid branching shape like a tree tossed by the wind.

The maids grumble to each other about the laundry, but they’ve dealt with this before. They’ve brought more than one shift. They sponge her off as quickly as possible, ignoring her stifled noises. Aldo helps them get her into her thin woolen robe, leaving it loose, and then they hurry over to pack and wash and leave her with her Orc. It’s a big tent. There’s no cot. There’s an oilskin under a duvet, and there are the same type of stiff cushions piled on top of that. At the center of the tent below the smoke-hole there’s a brazier.

Aldo carries her over to the duvet and sets her in the vee of his legs, facing the fire. He already has the comb and brush and a little tin cup of water to dampen her thin hair.

“He’s never?” he asks. A heavy, warm hand cups the side of her head as he begins sorting the knots with the comb.

“No. I think he took one of the others, and she hurt him before she died,” the weapon says. “He limps a little when the weather changes. Even his art couldn’t fix him all the way.” Her voice is weak, listless. “So he wants to, but he won’t. Aldo, I – hk. Hkk.”

“Easy, Milady. I’ve got you.”

He holds a towel to her lips as she dry-heaves, but nothing comes up but spit tinged with blood. Afterward she leans against his chest and his big belly, head whirling. He strokes her back very carefully.

“Milady,” he says after a couple of minutes.

“Yes, Aldo.”

“I’ve made an ointment I used to use for scars, if you would like me to try it. I think it will help,” he says.

“It can’t do any harm,” she says.

Aldo’s fingers slather something that burns coldly across her shrunken breast and down her bony ribs. Somewhat to her surprise, it does help, soothing the deeper ache. It’s an intimate touch from any outside perspective. But where she knows what the Master wants, and is revolted by it, the weapon knows Aldo has no desire of that kind toward her. She thinks, as the tent starts to blur and fade, that it’s how she imagines a farrier would treat a horse. That’s a funny thought. She must have said something garbled about it, because Aldo chuckles, a bassy rumble against her ear.

She doesn’t have to ask him to hold her. He pulls her back to his belly and covers them with the velvet blanket, trapping heat inside. The duvet isn’t thick enough to keep the hard ground away, but she is warm. She used to be so cold on campaign. The weapon sighs.

“There we are,” Aldo says. Warm breath touches the back of her head. “That’s better.” She doesn’t hear the end of the second statement, already sinking into a heavy sleep. Tomorrow they’ll do it all again.

Part 7: Wrath

[elizapreg]

Tale of Alora- Chapter 4: Heading Down

After climbing from the tent, Alora looked around, seeing Benres and Nelia packing up the last few items they had in preparation to move down the mountain. On one of the logs there was a bag with a bit of bread and fruit placed on it. Benres nods to it and says, “Eat up Alora. That’s about the only food we have until we reach the trade post halfway down.”   Nodding, Alora sat down and nibbled the food, her mind still thinking back to her dreams of the past the night before. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself a bit, as she sat eating meager rations off a rag in the middle of a forest, comparing it to the marble, stone, and silver of her upbringing. The baby inside her kicked, snapping her from her daydreaming as she finished the food, placing her hand softly on the place it had kicked she looked over to Benres. “So…. how’d you two sleep?”   Benres laughed “I slept well enough I couldn’t really explain…” Stretching a bit as he took down the tent. Nelia was still excitedly bouncing around looking through the supplies before sitting down by Alora.   “I slept pretty well. That was a thousand times more comfortable than how I’ve been sleeping the past year. Felt nice to go a whole night without guards waking me or mages looking at me over every hour or so.” Nelia said, cheerfully patting her bump. “I mean, even the little one seems to have gotten its rest.”   Alora smirked,  rolling her eyes and murmuring to herself “I slept just about as terribly as always…” Standing up, she put the remaining odds and ends into Benres’ pack as he tied the tent to it. Throwing it over his shoulder he nodded at the path descending down the peak.       “Shall we?” He asked, Alora grunting as she heaved her unbalanced frame down towards the way. Nelia all but skipping as she moved out ahead.   “Nelia!” Alora said after walking a moment, “How are you so energetic? Doesn’t the weight and aches sap it all out of you?” Alora added with surprise, it had only been a few moments, but she could already feel that characteristic soreness spreading through her back and feet, placing her own hands on her lower spine to try and ease the burden the best she could.   Turning around and walking backwards, Nelia grabbed her chin, obviously thinking it over, her slender tail swaying side to side as she did. “I don’t know… maybe it's that I’m a bit smaller than you, belly wise? Or since I spent a year locked up and I’m just happy to be free..” She shrugged, holding her belly as she turned and continued to walk on cheerfully. Benres couldn't help but laugh at the sight.       “What are you laughing at?” Alora said sharply.   “She has a point. She’s quite a bit smaller than yo-OW!” He grabbed his elbow, seeing the small elf cross her arms and point her nose up at him. “She wouldn’t be so slightly smaller than me if you hadn’t done this! Besides,” She put her hands on her hips, “I still don’t trust her. She’s not fooling me with this whole ‘airhead’ act.”   “Come on Alora, she hasn’t given us any reason to doubt her. Besides, we have bigger things to worry about.” He said pointing at Alora’s bump. “Remember the whole worsening contraction thing?”   Alora sighed, “I know, I know… But I still think that the Empty Valley will at least point us in the right direction without her.”   Benres shook his head. “Maybe, maybe not. After we resupply, we won't have much money or anything left. So we’re desperate. She’s our best hope to actually accomplish anything past whatever we find in the ruins.”   Looking down the road at their demonic companion, Alora ran her hand up and down the curve of her belly. “I know you’re right… but I don’t like it.”       Nelia came running back toward the two, falling in line alongside Benres' right side, as Alora walked on his left. “So how far is this supply post?”   “If my memory serves me right, about a half... “ Benres looked at the two pregnant girls slowly waddling on each side of him. “Make that an hour. And then probably another hour to the base where the ruins begin. That leaves us most of the daylight to see what we can find. Speaking of which, do you know much about the ruins? All I know is what was passed down through the tales of my people about the war.”   Nelia thought for a moment. “Well… my kind is a bit too proud to talk often of a war we lost… but I often overheard the Demon King referring to whatever he has planned as ‘the Duality of the Lost War.’ I can only assume his goal revolves around whatever the War failed to accomplish. Seeing as the Empty Valley is where the war began to end, it must have some hints towards what he was hoping to accomplish.”   Benres nodded along “That makes sense. Seeing how little of my kind survived those dark years, it makes sense our records would be bare about the motives in the War. And the elves don’t seem to be keen on sharing if they still know, do they?” He explained, looking to Alora, her fists clenching at mention of the Elven pattern of secrecy.   Nelia tilted her head. “Well, after we look around, why don’t we go ask the elves?” As she said this Benres cringed a bit, slowing down as Alora stormed forward, her fists almost shaking with anger. Nelia walked right by her side, close enough to Alora could feel Nelias hot breath hitting her cheek. “What’s wrong Alora? We can just go there and ask. I know you haven't gone back in some time but-”   “NO!” Alora shouted, pushing Nelia away. “You seem to have already forgotten the fact that  I cannot go back! They turned their back on me for upsetting their ‘traditions’ and now I’m outcast! So don’t you go telling me to go back and see those cursed people ever again! I’d live the rest of my life in one endless contraction before I set foot in that city again!” She marched off down the road, getting out ahead of Benres and Nelia to cool off, holding her belly as her baby thrashes about, set in motion by her outburst. “Why don’t you ask the demons for help you stupid…” Her mumbling became unintelligible.     As Alora rushed ahead, Nelia stood in shock watching the elf girl storm off. Benres put a hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eye. “Don’t worry, she’ll cool off. I should have probably mentioned the elves were a… touchy.. Subject.” He chuckled. “We best keep moving. We don’t want her getting too far ahead of us do we?”   Nelia just nodded, her face red with embarrassment as she walked deflated alongside Benres. “Sorry I got her all wound up…” She said, looking over to the human male.   “I wouldn’t worry. It doesn’t take much to get that tiny thing in a knot.” He explained, looking at Alora grumbling to herself down the road.   “Speaking of which, I guess it’s best to ask this while she can’t hear me.” Nelia nervously twiddled her fingers, “Why is she so small? I spend my life hearing how the elves were great warriors, and they basically single handedly won the war… Not that you humans are bad… or ….”   Benres laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Well… I don’t actually know. She’s the only elf I’ve ever seen. I figured they were all small. But the same question goes to you. In all the tales of my people, Demons are hulkish monstars, able to take out legions of men with a single blow.”   Nelia laughed right back. “I mean, if I’m about as tall as you, then even the most imposing demons I’ve seen would probably be about a foot taller, enough to take out a Legion? I’m not so sure. Maybe your folktales have embellished it a bit.”   Benres shrugged, “Maybe so, I’m pretty average when it comes to my kind. Alora.. Is quite sensitive about her size… so it’d make sense for her to be small in comparison, now that you mention it. As to why, only she could say…. Asking about that though,” He grimaced “you probably wouldn’t live to tell the tale.” Turning the corner up ahead, Alora saw the trading post, and having somewhat cooled down, waved and shouted back to the other two. “Hey! It's the post! I’m gonna head inside and clean myself off a bit.”   Benres gave her the thumbs up and she headed into the post. Benres walked over to the owner, and began bargaining for supplies as Nelia headed in after Alora. Finding her in the washroom, Alora was wiping the dust and dirt from her face, doing her best to tame her wild hair. Seeing Nelia come in behind her, Alora said nothing, acting like the demon wasn’t there. “Hey.. I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn't have made assumptions about something I didn’t understand.” She said, as Alora continued to ignore her. Sighing, Nelia turned to use the other mirror, but stopped to look herself over in the mirror. “Wow… Is that what I look like?” Alora chuckled a bit, but kept trying to ignore Nelia. Walking closer to the mirror, Nelia’s gaze is locked on her own bump. “It's like I’m looking at-” “Someone else.” Alora interrupted, walking into the reflection next to Nelia. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s one thing to look down and see it, and feel it always there.” Turning to the side Alora ran her hand under the bump, the fabric of her gown tight against the massive swell. “But seeing it in a mirror kinda takes you out of that and makes you really understand what it makes you look like..” Nelia smiled, wrapping her arms around her smaller belly. “Yeah… I guess that’s a good way to put it… But that wasn’t actually what I meant.” Alora looked over, confused. Nelia pointed at the reflection’s face. I haven't seen myself in over a year, but you don’t forget your own face. I still see the same white hair, granted they kept cutting it all off while I was a prisoner.” she said, pouting a bit as her hand ran through her short white locks. “I see the same silly face I’ve seen for years….” “So what’s the problem? Just missing your hair?” Alora asked, annoyed at the weird way Nelia was explaining herself. “Oh yeah… the problem… demon eyes are red, every member of our race has red eyes…. So why are mine green now?

[friesian]

1, 13, 30 (https://kralkatorrik.tumblr.com/post/691801307850440704/soft-asks-to-get-to-know-people cos it was a while ago)

HI HELLO!!! i hope u don't mind since i answered 1 and 30 a lil bit ago, i give some more options for those!! plus for 1 i just love talking about my music tastes hee hee. 1. what song makes you feel better?

MORE SONGS THAT MAKE ME FEEL GOOD!! WOO HOO!! i'll give down 3 more! if you notice repeating artists.... i sorry... but a lot of them are just very much some of my faves and i like A LOT of their tracks. fish whisperer -- vylet pony (i will always feel so artistically motivated after this one.) goblins -- nekrogoblikon (named my new kitten after this one. his name is nekrogoblikon. idk. something about this song is just GREAT.) euthanasia rollercoaster -- foreign gnomes + KM_EXP (THIS ONE IS BECAUSE i associate it with the big soo-won fight and marwyd with aurenes hammer and im just like. YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!) 13. what’s your comfort food? OHHHHH so. i have a REALLY bad stomach. celiac, intolerances, and just a sensitive bitch of a muscle. so my comfort food is very limited. but my go to is honestly french fries. ESPECIALLY fresh. i really like getting them from sheetz. i get 2 cups of fries and hard boiled eggs and it is GREAT. it's very simple and filling believe it or not. 30. what reminds you of home (doesn’t have to mean house… just things that remind you of the feeling of home)?

so. i suppose to get sappy again, maybe a little sad. so sorry for how long winded this one is. i never knew any of my grandparents except for my grandmother on my dad's side. i loved her very much. she had a bad marriage. my dad only talked to her through arguments honestly. but she never ever took it out on me. when i was in middle school, she got REALLY sick. there was malpractice and she had to move near my parents, and essentially ended up moving right next to the school. i used to walk over after school and care for her since she had breathing problems, stomach problems, you name it. however, she made sure i still felt at home and wouldn't go hungry. she'd still spoil her grandkid despite being on disability and not really ever having a job. so, before i was sick as i am now, she used to buy me those REALLY cheap box pizzas you see in stores for like a dollar. she would get A LOT of them since the school lunches were SO bad i just would not eat, and i was always too tired in the morning to make my own lunch (i lived out in bumfuck nowhere, so i woke up at 5 so i could get to school at 7). she'd have a stack of them in the old fridge from the early 90s, alongside her michelina's alfredo noodles she loved, and the ice packs she had in there for her back pain. i'd slap one of those bad boys in the microwave for a few minutes, turn on courage the cowardly dog on that small sad excuse for a flatscreen tv, check in on her, sit and eat my pizza. just me with this little tv table, her in bed, me watching tv. it felt great. she'd still ask me "those pizzas okay?" in that thick jersey accent she had. like somehow i'd change my mind half way through devouring one of those things, covered in sauce and cheese lol. i can't have those pizzas now. but sometimes my wife buys and makes them. it makes me think of her small apartment. a place i'd happily call a second home. makes me tear up a bit writing it since my grandmother passed about nine years ago now. i think around the start of next year will be ten years without her. but those damn pizzas still make me think of her, and that cozy feeling of her watching cartoons with me.

[mihidecet]

Sbi&co: D&D AU: It begins

I’m back from hiatus yall!!! Ever so sorry for the wait, and thank you all so very much for your patience and kindness <3 Updates should go back to the regular schedule now! Hope you’ll enjoy!!

Also! This is an early birthday present for the lovely Lando @whatimevendoinhere​ ! Without them this AU wouldn’t exist, so make sure to check out their STUNNING art and go wish them a happy birthday tomorrow!!

There's a rhythmic tapping coming from Scott's right as he looks through his spellbook for one last time. 

His right hand man, the head of his guards - of the stationed ones, at least the only guards existing formally - huffs out fondly, rolling his eyes as Scott's hand gently shuts the tome closed. He sticks his tongue out at the shorter man, prompting a chuckle out of him; after all they both know he doesn't need to freshen up his memory regarding this spell, it is simply tradition. 

Almost a century has passed since the first event, he's not going to stop now.

The opening ceremony has always been a big deal: it sets up the mood for the first few weeks of the tournament, and it involves him having to talk in front of a whole stadium of people, which is as fun as it is anxiety inducing. 

It also involves introducing and showing off each participant, which is always entertaining; many crowd-favourites get chosen during these short moments, so it will be interesting to see what will come about. A handful of names jump to his mind, especially knowing what he’s discovered thanks to a cautious bit of espionage, but he’s still unsure of how much each contestant will try to focus on pleasing the people or on actually winning the games. 

Scott doesn't mind crowds that much, but he is still glad that Jordan will be next to him; the seasoned human has always been a friend, and he knows he can rely on him no matter what - it wouldn't be the first time somebody tried something during the opening ceremony, but it would certainly be for the best if nothing were to happen. 

According to his hidden right hand man, nothing out of the ordinary should be taking place, which is why Scott takes one last deep breath before exiting the soundless bubble they were standing in, stepping out on the balcony overlooking the main stadium and into the chaos of the roaring crowd beneath him.

Wilbur will never have enough of the cacophony of a crammed full stadium. 

There is nothing quite like it, and ever since he got a taste the day before, during the opening ceremony for the tournament, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to live without it. As they walk into the sunlight, moving away from the shadows of the tunnel that they had to traverse in order to get to the main combat area, the cheers rise, louder and louder, edged on by the unnaturally loud voices of the mages that will present the participants. 

A shadow shifts in his peripheral - Techno, advancing towards a good hiding spot behind one of the tall rocks that are scattered around the stadium - and he lets out a small chuckle, fixing his grip on his guitar as a bodiless voice calls out the fake names they had submitted in order to attract less attention. 

Wil reaches the center of the stage in a series of quick determined steps, then stops and turns around with a flourish, strumming the chords of his instruments to cast a quick spell:

“Good evening, everyone! -” he calls out, tail swishing behind him as his voice booms, resounding magically in the whole stadium “- Are you ready for a show?” 

The crowd erupts in cheers, adrenaline flowing through his blood like fire, and his lips stretch in an impossibly wide grin; a second later Tommy appears, shrouded in flames as he slides across the field towards him, looking almost as if he were flying.

“I didn’t quite hear you! I said… -” he repeats coily, his view of the world around him temporarily hidden as Tommy twirls around him, sending sparks in the air as the ground sizzles around them. The boy comes to an abrupt stop next to him, unleashing arcane flames higher and brighter for a split second that leave a burnt circle on the soil. 

“Are you ready for a fucking show?!” 

If he’d thought that the crowd had been at its loudest before, he would have definitely been proven wrong now, as the stadium seems to shake with the enthusiasm they’ve pumped into them - it is an arduous task, keeping the crowd energetic when they’re the last to perform for that day, after hours of fighting that must have left the people watching as exhausted as the people fighting, but somebody has to do it. When Wilbur turns towards Tommy the kid is glowing, and it’s not only due to the flames still surrounding his body. He pumps his fist up, towards the air, and lets out a gleeful whoop as the sound of Phil’s laughter reaches them.

The druid is twirling his own staff and, as the two of them start loudly cheering him on, he cackles and puts a bit more effort into it, letting it fly up in the air before smashing it down on the ground, where a spark of arcane energy bursts outwardly with bright green light. Iridescent glyphs appear on the staff, water bleeding out from the wood itself almost like sap and freezing instantly, while ice crackles and shifts as it forms a spiked clump around its top: Wilbur whoops even louder, letting go of his guitar to clap his hands together, resisting the urge to chant his friend’s name - they’re saving that for the future, no need to reveal their identities so soon. 

Wilbur is in the process of reaching for his instrument again, possibly to start playing something while they wait for the gates to be lifted and their mysterious opponent to show up, when a long, drawn out lament fills the air around them. The tiefling feels his spine straighten on instinct, the chilling sound causing a sudden shift in the overall mood they had created as a wave of fear swoops over the whole stadium - Wilbur would be angry about it if it wasn’t for the fact that his knees feel a bit weak, hands tightening around his guitar as if it could help stop them from shaking. 

Despite being frozen in place, in a mix of fear and surprise, he’s able to shake himself out of his stupor, looking up to the rest of his team with a tentative grin. But Phil isn’t looking at him anymore, he’s reaching out with a worried expression towards- 

A body collides with his own as Tommy, shaking like a leaf, eyes clouded and wide open, stumbles backwards, clutching at Wil’s shirt like a lifeline. It’s the unnatural murkiness of Tommy’s usually bright blue eyes that clues him in on the fact that this is a spell, not a natural reaction to a definitely frightening sound, so Wilbur steps between Tommy and whatever has taken hold of his mind, praying to Tymora that wherever Techno is he isn’t going through the same, and presses both of his hands over his friend’s shoulders. The kid clutches at his shirt, still muttering curses under his breath, and Wilbur struggles for a moment to catch his eyesight. 

“Tommy- Tommy, calm.” 

The human gasps in a breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he shakes his head and lets go of Wilbur to cling to himself.

“Fucking- go on, don’t- don’t mind me …” He hisses, muttering to himself about “definitely not acting like a little bitch”, and Wilbur turns, still shielding Tommy with his own body, and hopes that whatever his dear cousin is telling him, it’ll help shake him out of that enchantment. 

Despite the fact that Wilbur has been able to overcome his initial magic-induced fear, it’s still a bit of a shock, seeing the aberration floating menacingly towards them: it looks like a dark blue cloak, larger than a chariot, with a long boney tail, light pink, almost white eyes and a lipless mouth filled with an impressive amount of teeth - it resembles vaguely one of the sea creatures they’d encountered during their travels by the sea, but it definitely isn’t the beautifully elegant animal they’d seen doing somersaults near their ship. 

Phil steps up next to him with a dark look in his eyes, and Wilbur would chuckle at the protectiveness of the older elf if that wouldn’t make him feel terribly hypocritical. 

“Let’s bring that thing down, see if it acts all high and mighty then.” He mutters, raising a hand towards the beast and then pushing down. It appears that the creature is not used to that particular feeling, because it lets out a high pitched trill and starts gliding towards the ground, decisively less able to resist Phil’s spell than the elf had initially expected. Not that he’s complaining. 

But as the beast is descending, it lets out another whimpering groan, its form shifting and blurring, shadows solidifying into two other copies of the original; whether it was a momentary distraction or a voluntary effect, Phil curses under his breath as he’s unable to distinguish which one is the original. 

He is able to clearly see, instead, the gleam of a dark dagger as it sails through the air and embeds itself straight into the back of that beast's head, carving through its flesh like butter and embedding itself into the ground a handful of feet to its left. 

Then, it what would have otherwise been an extremely comical display, both the dagger and the beast disappear in a gust of smoke and darkness. 

A loud and indignated "Eeh?!" comes from what Phil assumes to be Techno's hiding place - a moment later the rogue himself pokes his head out from behind the stone column, waving that very same dagger towards the two remaining aberrations. 

"You're welcome, I guess?" He calls out, before disappearing into the shadows again, prompting Wilbur to burst out laughing. 

It's at that point that the tiefling realises, his shoulders relaxing instantly, that Tommy is also chuckling lightly behind his back - he figures he either snapped out of it or the beast's spell has a short duration - so he steps forward, moving a bit closer to the two huge figures now squirming on the ground with a renewed spring in his step.

“Not that scary now, eh, you big sheet?!”

The two aberrations on the floor flinch back, writhing from the effects of his words as if insulted - although the tiefling isn’t sure that it’s actually able to comprehend them - just a split second before two beams of fire sail past him. One strikes true, hitting one of the two beasts right into the center of its forehead; but the figure only shifts, blurring for a moment before it melts into nothingness. The second sphere burns a scorching mark on the ground right where the apparently true aberration was just a moment before, having moved due to the bard’s spell. 

“Ah, Wilby!” Protests Tommy; when he turns with a grin he can see - as expected - the young warlock staring angrily at him, hands still smouldering as he throws them into the air exasperatedly. 

That is also the last thing he sees before the beast behind him lets out a shrill whimper and lurches forward, its wings wrapping around his body and completely obscuring his vision. 

[carolynpetit]

lonely warriors across space and time

Keleyna of Azeroth

Keleyna awoke in a small tent. Or was this something other than waking? Somehow she knew that it had not been hours or even days since she had stepped into the tent, but ten months. It was as if she had nearly phased out of existence, as if she were part of someone else’s dream and had been all but forgotten. She thought the sudden sensation of reawakening—re-existing—after so long was not unlike plummeting into a pool of icy water.

Dazed and unsteady on her feet, she emerged from the tent to a familiar sight. Yes, this Alliance fort in the Barrens was the last place she remembered, and seemingly nothing had changed. She stumbled over to a smiling, stationary gnome, Mizzy Pistonhammer, who it seemed was still patiently waiting for the eight pieces of siege engine scrap she’d asked Keleyna to collect for her ten months ago. The distant sound of explosions told her that goblin suicide bombers were still steadily charging the battlements. Gods, this world seemed so resistant to change, the constant conflict as pointless as it was endless.

Still, as she left Fort Triumph to go do something, anything, she remembered that she loved the Barrens. A phrase formed in her mind: “Lonely as I am, together we cry.” She didn’t know where it came from—a fragment of a mostly-forgotten song, perhaps—but whatever the source, it seemed fitting. In a world where her actions so often seemed insignificant, there was something oddly comforting about the forthright way in which the Barrens seemed to say to her, Yes, you ARE small, just one little, tiny part of this vast world, this mysterious universe. There was a spiritual comfort in the sparseness of it all, the heat of the dry, cracking earth a balm for her loneliness.

A balm, but not a cure. When she’d last gone to sleep all those months ago she felt a troubling void inside of herself, a persistent lack of purpose or meaning to all of her questing. She couldn’t recall any dreams from the deep sleep into which she’d fallen, but if she’d had any, they clearly hadn’t offered any answers.

Keleyna decided to see if she could be of service to the dwarves at Bael Modan, and when Marley Twinbraid asked her to retrieve his tools from the nearby digsite, she immediately set herself to the task, as much to distract herself from the troubling thoughts and feelings she couldn’t shake as anything else. It wasn’t long until she returned with the tools in hand, which Twinbraid promptly used to repair his flying machine. He entreated Keleyna to join him for a quick flight to his father’s nearby camp, but shortly after liftoff, a massive explosion shook the air around the contraption, and they went plummeting toward the earth.

Walking away from the wreckage unscathed, Keleyna wondered if she shouldn’t be a bit shaken up about what had just happened, but somehow she knew she hadn’t been in any real danger, nothing had been at stake. This was just a bit of fun, an adventure, a chapter in a story that couldn’t really hurt her, no matter what happened. But, then, what was the point? People didn’t usually go to Disneyland alone and ride the rides by themselves, she thought. The magic wasn’t in Pirates of the Caribbean itself; it was in making memories together. It was in holding hands on the ride. It was in going to the Blue Bayou Restaurant with people you loved right afterwards, your spirits buoyed by your shared experience. Wait, what’s Disneyland?

She’d heard rumors that soon, through some sort of arcane magicks, adventurers who so desired would be able to return to the way things had been long ago, before the great cataclysm remade the world. Some said that what had made things better then was that people were friendlier, that they adventured together more, they cooperated more, they talked more. Keleyna definitely felt the absence of these things in her adventures. She’d recently had the eerie experience of venturing through a dungeon with others, nobody saying a word to each other the entire time, and when it was over, they all parted silently, as immaterial to each other as phantoms.

She couldn’t say if things had been better back then. She hadn’t even existed. But she seemed to carry with her the vague memories of a night elf druid who had existed back then, someone who was somehow both her and not her. When she examined the place in herself where those memories resided, she saw some warm recollections of fellowship, but also some frustration and bitterness, as the druid quickly fell behind those she’d called friends, lacked the experience needed to journey alongside them any longer, and found herself feeling lonely and left out.

Keleyna imagined a goblin zeppelin drifting across the sky, blaring a repeating announcement: “A new life awaits you in World of Warcraft Classic! The chance to begin again in a golden age of opportunity and adventure.” She’d heard some big proponents of Classic, as the land through the portals was called, use the slogan “Make Azeroth Great Again,” a phrase she found repellant, though she couldn’t articulate exactly why. Maybe it was just that people who held romanticized notions of the past tended to be hostile to people different from  themselves in the present.

She hated the war. She desperately wished that the Alliance and Horde could put aside their differences once and for all, and learn to coexist. She even sometimes felt that the Alliance might well be the more unjust and oppressive of the two, though she couldn’t say that out loud, of course. In her mind, the only real hope was to create a new future that looked like nothing the peoples of Azeroth had ever seen before, not to go back to the earlier years of this relentless conflict. But she was also willing to try just about anything at this point. If there was even a chance that the togetherness she longed for would be waiting on the other side of those portals to the past, then why not make the leap?

The portals hadn’t been opened just yet, though, and while the warm empty vastness of the Barrens had been a welcome comfort, it couldn’t stave off the feelings that sapped her will from within for long. Craving a change of scenery, she hopped a gryphon to Theramore Isle, the sturdy trees and salty sea air a welcome change from the dry heat of the Barrens. She entered the inn and felt a pang in her heart at the sight of its emptiness. Weren’t inns like this supposed to be places where adventurers connected, sharing tales of their latest quests over flagons of mead? With a heavy sigh, she sat down, wondering when she might reawaken, or if this time, she might slip out of the world’s dreams forever. 

-----

Many miles away, something flies from the surface of a blue marbled sphere…

-----

The Guardian, Milky Way Galaxy, sometime in the future

She had a name, of course, though nobody knew it but herself. People just called her The Guardian. There were other guardians, of course--tons of them--but if you just said “The Guardian,” everybody knew you were talking about her. After all, she was the one who had done that one big thing, and then, later, she’d done that other big thing, too. She couldn’t actually tell you what those things were that she had done or why exactly they’d mattered so much, but the Vanguard clearly relied on her to take care of the biggest problems that came along. Oh, and she’d avenged Cayde’s death. That, at least, had been an adventure she’d more or less understood, and she’d liked Cayde a lot, but she didn’t feel great about revenge as a motivator. Still, her options had been to do that or to not do anything, so she’d done that, too.

Everyone knew of her, but nobody knew her. When she walked past the ramen shop in the Tower, the people at the counter would talk in hushed whispers, wondering what the Guardian really fought for, and if this woman who had done so much for so many others had anything, anyone, in her own life. Or at least, the Guardian liked to think that this was true. It was her own personal headcanon. The world hadn’t given her what felt like a meaningful story, so she created one herself. She was a legend in her own mind. Sure, she’d fought alongside other guardians a handful of times, guardians she’d known and felt safe with, and those times had been, by far, the most enjoyable and meaningful of her adventures. But those guardians had disappeared without a trace, long, long ago. Now, she knew she could team up with other guardians at random, but she would never do that. She had strong defenses up, and with good reason. Too many bad experiences, too many painful memories.

So she worked alone. It was something to do, but it felt empty. She’d go on missions and get some gear that raised her light level a bit. It was tangible progress, but to what end? So that she could go on more missions and get more gear that raised her light level a bit? Was this all there was?

She looked up at the Traveler, that mysterious being, a fusion of magic and technology that hinted at possibilities beyond this life of guns and blood, and wondered if anything stirred inside of it. She wondered if there actually was more than this, or if this was all there was. She wondered what it was all for, and figured that people had been looking to the sky and wondering this for as long as there had been people, so at least in this, at least in feeling alone and lost and uncertain, she was connected to everyone who had come before. But that was cold comfort as she climbed into her little single-seater starship and set out for The Tangled Shore in hopes of finding a better pair of gauntlets.

-----

“I wake up scared, I wake up strange, and everything around me stays the same.”

--BNL, “What a Good Boy”

-----

Carolyn, Berkeley

Here I am, the link between these two characters, projecting all my own doubt and dissatisfaction onto them.

Things are up in the air right now, Unstructured. Scary. The one constant is that I’m steadfastly working on a long-term project that’s quite unlike anything I’ve done before. It requires a lot more planning. I know where it’s going. I mean, I don’t know exactly what turn it’s going to take at every crossroads, but I have a map to the final destination. There’s comfort in this, but it also means that this writing comes from a different place than so much of the writing I’ve done. I believe in it. I feel good about it. I like doing it and knowing that I’m capable of doing it. But also, it’s safer, less emotionally urgent. (Whether or not it will ever see the light of day, now that is a question of some urgency, as it’s not exactly pulling in any money just yet, but that’s a different matter.) That project aside, lately I’ve felt like I’m looking for a reason to write. The pinprick, the provocation, the punch in the face. The things I usually find in life and in art, and in the space between myself and the games I play.

Destiny 2 and World of Warcraft don’t give me those reasons. So why do I keep returning to them, when whatever comforts they offer are fleeting, when they leave me feeling as empty as when I started? Why, when I’m so desperate for connection, do I keep playing alone these games that are designed to be played together? Why don’t I take the hours that these games swallow up and use them to read a book? Is it because I think that at any moment, something may change? Is it because I know that, while a book may be far more worthwhile, I won’t find the connection I crave in its pages, either?

I want games that fuck me up. The first episode of Stories Untold, man, that fucked me up. My brain buzzed for a few hours afterwards with the excitement and stimulation of having played something truly surprising. Destiny, WoW, these games might be fun if I had people to play them with, but the one thing they will never be, especially not as long as I play them on my own, is surprising. I know exactly what I’m in for each time I fire them up. And yet I do it again and again and again.

Here’s why I think I keep coming back: Because in this moment, when my life feels so uncertain and terrifying, I know for certain that in those worlds I can succeed, that after an hour or two, the numbers that define my character will be a little bit higher than they were when I started. Things feel so out of my control right now. Here’s a place where I can have a kind of control, however small, however empty.  

But games can’t be the answer. Life has to be. A few shallow, friendly connections won’t cut it, whether it’s people I hang out with but don’t really know in the real world, or people I run dungeons with in WoW but never really talk to or touch. As Olivia Laing so perceptively writes in The Lonely City, “[L]oneliness is hallmarked by an intense desire to bring the experience to a close; something which cannot be achieved by sheer willpower or by simply getting out more, but only by developing intimate connections.”

Or, as Bruce Springsteen sang,

I'm dying for some action I'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now baby gimme just one look

Because that’s where life is. That’s where the reason to write is. That’s where the reason to play is. You take what life gives you and you bring it to those things. But if life isn’t giving you the stuff of life, what, then, do you do?

I don’t want to be a warrior anymore, or at least not a lonely one. I don’t want the Boba Fett mystique. When I was younger I thought maybe I did, but now I know I don’t. Keleyna and the Guardian don’t come from anywhere, they sprang into the world fully formed as adults with no past, no family, no history, but I want someone to know where I come from. They quest alone, or when they do team up with others, it’s a fully superficial affair, no words exchanged, no lasting connection. I want to go on adventures with someone who takes on my complexity and lets me into theirs, someone I can have a real conversation with at the end of a long week, someone to walk around a real city with, someone I want to be there for and who wants to be there for me.

It’s not that I want to stop playing. Not at all. I just want the flame to be reignited. I want something to hold onto, something I can bring back to my time with the controller to make it all mean something. I’m sick of sitting ‘round here trying to write this book.

-----

Thank you for reading. If you liked it, please consider sharing it, or, if you’re in a position to do so, supporting me on Ko-fi. All donations are greatly appreciated as I continue looking for work.

[therobotfrom94]

Elder Scrolls Lore is Confusing...

(Full disclosure, i stole this from Reddit.)

Feel free to add to this;

>The fact that Altmer used impossible math, belief, mirrors, temporal manipulation, sunlight, and possibly a giant bird to travel the Void of Oblivion.

>Or that the Imperials genetically engineered giant moths with ziggurats on top to fly through the infinite space of Oblivion to colonize one of the moons. Or the fact that the Imperials also use moths to tap into the vibrations of the universe and read enigmatic texts that may or may not be: the scales of the snake shaped god/primordial personified force of space-time, the literal blueprints of the universe, uncountable magical fortune cookie notes, or the Magic/Light God's dead kids.

>

>Also the whole Annuad is kinda weird when you think about it

>

>Plus some bonuses: A bunch of sentient trees that worship the embodiment of change and/or nothingness from a destroyed world that fell to this one bio-engineered some lizards to protect them and they made them shaped like other beings that survived a different world destruction, possibly to protect their creations from wholesale genocide or to store their sap in their creations' scaly bosoms. They once got scared so they called most of their lizards back to their lands to pump them full of so much crazy sap that the lizards charged into Hell and made the demons so scared that they stopped their invasion and closed the portals to Treeland.

>

>One race can be born as a short guy with pointy ears or a 14 foot tall tiger that cats of a bunch or other shapes, sizes, and degrees of catness ride into battle. Also most of them get literally high off sugar. Sometimes part of religious rituals, sometimes to keep track of time when it gets broken, sometimes for fun.

>

>Some other people can scream or sing or dance to change the universe. Sometimes they split atoms and destroy a continent and are forced to flee into a future/alternate timeline. Sometimes they watch god-ghosts fight each other and learn how to shake a big dragon with their shouts. This reverses the aging process because dragons are just giant sapient time machines. Also that dancing thing was because this monkey guy was pissed off at some elves (for using magic to mutilate humans to make them living torture art) so his followers tried to erase all elf-ness from one of the shards of a big, dead dragon god-planet and they ended up breaking linear time for 1008 years.

>

>Once a guy and his friends murdered their other friend and he felt so bad that he looked into the eyes of the God that dreamed up the universe and told Him that he exists. This resulted in the guy tricking the universe into believing he didn't kill his friend, even though a good portion of his people know he did. One of the other guys that committed that murder became a recluse and made cyborgs all day and also tried to fix the half finished planet that everyone lives on... until the third murderer killed him because she went crazy. It's okay though, because the reincarnation of the murdered guy killed her back. Also they were all gods that sucked up god-juice from the still beating heart of the god that tricked/convinced some other gods into losing their immortality to create the world.

>

>One god either went crazy or got corrupted by another god and split himself or shat himself out to make a new god.

>

>Some crazy (literal) bastard started worshiping the godemon of Destruction and used a razor shaped part of it to change his soul do he could be a proto-elf with knowledge of the magic they used back when everyone was an immortal concept spirit instead of the kind of elf that can't eat plants, has leaders that literally change with the whims of their people, talk to trees to learn stories from the future, and turn into eldritch monsters when they get really upset. Anyway, another (literal) bastard whose dad was killed by the elf got some guy to get artifacts of immense power to open a portal to kill the elf. He then went on to smash the combined blood of the space and time gods (who normally hate each other, but gave their blood to this slave leader that had a gay genocidal cyborg from the future (allegedly) and her winged minotaur god boyfriend to exterminate her captors) to reinforce the barrier between hellvoidspace and the mortal realm.

>

>Then a dragon in a mortal body killed another aspect of the big dragon god and also a vampire that tried to blot out the sun and the first dragon in a human body that conspired with the knowledge demon to dominate the world.

>And those trees I mentioned waaaay up there? They're gonna get into a space war with some girl dragons in the distant future, so there's that.

>

>Also a bunch of other stuff involving thinking yourself out of reality or becoming robot skin.

>

>The fact that if enough people believe something it becomes real, which is how every culture has very similar gods with similar names, which have basically been carved out of bigger versions of themselves.

>

>And how could I have forgotten about the Dreamsleeve, the state of being? plane of existence? series of tubes? where powerful people share ideas and where souls go if they don't get one of the (at least) 24 afterlives, so they can get the half of their soul that stores memories, emotions, and consciousness scrubbed so that they might be good enough to break out of the Dream of the universe that imprisons them.

>Also every rock, grain of sand, plant, the air, gravity, inertia, entropy, animals, the water cycle, physics and physical objects in general, you know, the world? All rotting carcasses of god-concept-spirits who were either too weak, scared to die, or generous to their fellows to leave when the world was being made!

Just re-read this and I feel the need to mention that the robot skin thing came about because a group of underground (again, literally) elves were just really upset about the world existing so they build a giant robot to tell God that the universe was his dream and therefore didn't exist, which is basically a big megazord that screams "NO" really loudly. Sometime during this they got into a big war that is pretty much the same big war that happens pretty frequently and the main guy who was working on it was serving a king (who, might I add, was possibly a servant of the aforementioned shat god, or maybe the god himself) and one or both of them decided it would be a cool idea to bonk the god heart with a hammer and then their whole race vanished/was turned into metal skin in the midst of battle. Also this happened in the fiery belly of Mount Doom(drum).

Basically that elf robot caused like a third of all the crazy shit to happen in the world, such as:

Three aspects of that world-creator heartless god turned into a single being by taking their own place back in the cosmos after one of them tried to make the big NObot work by shoving the soul of another into a big jewel. This was thought to be a good idea at the time because the latter was just basically a big flying ash cloud that shouted a lot. They later used this ash powered NObot to absolutely wreck some other elves to the point where time broke (which happens more than you'd think) and they surrendered in an hour but also didn't and are still fighting it millennia into the future.

Turned one guy into a moon but also himself like eight times. This also lead to the dissolution of a bunch of city states and consolidation of their power to 3 others, plus a kingdom of shit-god's followers who were, before this, pretty much considered murderous vermin (which, to be fair, many were at the time).

Anyway in one timeline this giant robot comes back in the future and has a sickass robot battle with its own copy, which was made by a dead but not dead guy who tried to use a weaponized disease to turn everyone into himself but got re-killed by the reincarnation of his best friend as prophesied by the goddess who made the cat people and turned that bioweapon guy's race blue-gray.

[taztaas]

Hey there! theres a head canon running around here of purring elves. and what could be cuter than a purring half elf Angus McDonald? Maybe purring for the first time around Taako (feeling safe or needing to be comforted). maybe a younger Angus? thank you for taking the time to read this! :)

Hey! I hope you find this acceptable. I went with post-canon where Angus lives with Taako & Kravitz.

Taako is awake as soon as his ears catch the sound of the door to Angus’ room opening and closing down the hall. He pretends he isn’t. Angus is probably just going to get a glass of water and then return to bed like the good boy he is.

Taako feels Kravitz’s cool body pressed against his back; the reaper’s face buried in his hair. He scoots back; burrows a bit closer, just because he can. The heavy arm around his waist tightens its hold and a puff of breath hits the back of his neck. Taako smiles a private smile, he can tell Kravitz is still asleep. Funnily enough, the dead man sleeps like the dead.

The sound of padding feet stops outside the bedroom door and Taako schools his expression back into careful neutrality. He hopes that Angus is just checking in on them on his way to the kitchen. The door opens and for a few seconds, nothing happens. Then there’s the tapping of bare feet on the hardwood floor and a swishing sound that tells Taako that Angus’ blanket is draped over the boy’s shoulders and dragging behind him. Taako cringes inwardly; the late hour coupled with a blanket means nightmares.

Taako listens as Angus makes his way towards the bed over the minefield that is the bedroom floor. He’s glad that Angus is a half-elf with darkvision because otherwise the kid might trip over a pair of heels or whatever and snap his neck.

Angus comes to a stop next to the bed and Taako can hear his breath shaking. Definitely nightmares, Taako thinks and his stomach sinks a bit because dammit, he’s not qualified to handle this shit. He wishes fiercely that Kravitz was awake. His boyfriend might be dead but he knows how to navigate around feelings whereas Taako is always putting his foot in his mouth.

Angus reaches up (the bed is high; Taako has slept on the cold, hard ground enough times to appreciate a good, thick mattress) to grab Taako’s arm. He gives it a little shake.

“Da- Taako,” he whispers and Taako can almost convince himself that his heart doesn’t skip a beat or two at the almost-word. “Taako!” Angus hisses, a bit louder and Taako makes a show of rousing himself from slumber, a part of him still hoping to avoid the situation entirely.

“Mmh… Whassap, little dude?” Taako says, making sure to mumble and blink his eyes blearily. Angus stands in front of him, his small pointed ears drooping and a blanket over his shoulders like a cape. His eyes are red-rimmed; he’s been crying. Taako is flooded with the intense desire to whirl around and shake Kravitz awake before escaping the room.

“I had a-,” the boy starts, hesitates and swallows thickly. “Can I- can I sleep here? Like, for a little bit?” His voice is barely loud enough to hear and after saying his piece, Angus turns to look away as if ashamed and there’s a whispered please that Taako wouldn’t have even heard if he was as sleepy as he was feigning to be. Taako feels like something is stuck in his throat and he’s cursing up a storm in his mind. He’s so bad at this.

“Sure thing, pumpkin. ‘s free real estate up here in Taako town,” Taako says, aiming for casual. He pats the bed with his palm but makes sure to yawn at the same time like he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t know the words he’s supposed to use here but if all the kid wants is to sleep in the same bed? That’s easy enough.

Angus’ smile looks watery still but he climbs up into the bed and curls under his blanket, his back towards Taako, who manages not to sigh in relief. Crisis averted, he thinks and closes his eyes.

Then he hears a sniffle.

He ignores it. Maybe the kid just has a stuffy nose and it will pass.

But then there’s another.

Taako takes a deep breath through his nose, preparing himself. Seems like he doesn’t have a choice here. He needs to do… something. He opens his eyes again and sees Angus trembling slightly under his blanket. He looks so small. He’s just a kid.

“Hey,” he whispers and Angus stills. “You wanna, like, come over here?”

“I don’t want to bother you, sir,” Angus says quietly, muffled by his blanket and something in Taako’s chest bends and breaks.

“You’re not a bother, Angus,” he says, honest for a change. “Come here baby, yeah?” He reaches for Angus who turns around, hesitates for a second, and then surges forward into Taako’s arms. He hides his face somewhere near Taako’s collarbone and sniffs.

“You’re okay kiddo,” Taako whispers against the top of Angus’ head, runs his fingers through curly hair; his touch lingering on the boy’s pointed ears. “Taako’s gotcha.”

Angus, still cocooned in his blanket lets out a deep, stuttering breath before relaxing in Taako’s arms. Taako closes his eyes, feeling drained and more than ready to go back to sleep. His fingers travel idly in Angus’ hair, straying to the back of his neck and around to brush against his little ears. He’s half asleep when he hears something.

Angus is purring.

It’s a quiet and unsure rumble at first like he hasn’t done it in a long time. Taako’s breath catches in his throat. It probably has been a while since Angus has felt comfortable enough to purr.

Taako’s hand stills in Angus’ hair as he is hit by a memory. He remembers being curled up next to Lup, together in some hidey-hole, feeling safe next to his sleeping sister and purring in unison with her, soothing each other.

And he can almost remember even further back, bundled up in the embrace of someone like a mother, lulled to sleep by the vibrations he felt, held against her chest.

Angus feels safe here, Taako realizes and bites his lip to ground himself. He can’t help it, he starts purring too, to let Angus know that there’s someone with him. Taako’s purr has a hesitant start but Angus’ purring kicks up a notch in response and the boy, fully asleep, presses closer. Without thinking, Taako lets out a reassuring trill and Angus settles down with a pleased noise.

Taako starts a little when he feels colds lips press a kiss behind his ear. It’s Kravitz, of course, the asshole. Has he been awake the whole time? If Angus wasn’t asleep (literally in his arms), Taako would kick his shitty boyfriend in the shin.

“Someone’s getting burned pancakes for breakfast,” he hisses. Kravitz chuckles against Taako’s shoulder, before kissing it. “I’m proud of you, love.”

“Fuck off,” Taako whispers half-heartedly because he’s Taako from TV, and he’s amazing at everything he does. Naturally, this parenting thing is no exception. 

He feels Kravitz move his arm to drape it over Angus as well and he grins to himself because his boyfriend is a friggin’ sap. And if Taako moves too, to hold Angus a little more securely, well, it’s not like Kravitz would tell anyone.

He cradles Angus to his chest. They’re not alone anymore.

[castcharmperson]

Taakitz: Fashion Disaster

My first published taz fic and I’m so excited it’s for @taakitzweek​! Here’s day one, a rather loose interpretation of the prompt, featuring Fantasy Halloween, cats, and the crime of eating frozen pizza. No content warning for this one.

The autumn festivals were hard to describe. Well, describing them was easy- harvest festivals early in the season, several days dedicated to Pan and other deities, and everything concluded with The Haunting of the Last Leaves. It would be more accurate to say it was hard for Kravitz to determine how he felt about the autumn festivals. They were usually beautifully, with most of Faerun turning various shades of orange and red. The wind was crisp and refreshing but not biting; not that temperature really mattered to Kravitz, but it was nice to go home and not wait thirty minutes in front of the fire before Taako would come within five feet of him. The harvests were wonderful family events, even Merle’s Pan-preaching felt a little more tolerable this time of year.

It was The Haunting that Kravitz mostly took trouble with. Taako said there had been something on his home plane that was similar - All Hallow’s Eve.

“Going door to door for treats, throwing eggs at the wagons of people you hate, bats, ghosts, black cats,” Taako had been holding Poe, their cat, as he spoke, lifting the small bundle of black fur as he talked. “Yeah, it’s like Lup and Barry’s favorite festival.”

Taako was hard to read, even after five years of living together after The Day of Story and Song (which now had a festival of its own during the early days of summer), but it was clear to see that The Haunting, or All Hallow’s Eve, was one of his favorite festivals too.

Kravitz tried to get into the spirit, he really did, but in the weeks leading up to The Haunting of the Last Leaves, his job always kept him busier than usual. Necromancers loved the early twilight, loved donning masks and taking whatever they needed to perform their crimes. After he and Taako had talked, he already worked out with the Raven Queen to make sure Barry and Lup had the day off, but that meant Kravitz would be pulling double shifts. Which he didn’t mind, but the closer they got to the date of the festival, the more Kravitz found himself wanting to celebrate with Taako.

Every doorway, arch, and awning of their home was lined with orange glowing charms. Several illusion spells had been set up around the lawn and there was a permanent state of fog. Taako had already crafted a perfect Caleb Cleveland costume for Angus, had taken to wearing sweaters and skirts with skulls on them. The smell of spiced apple cider was a new constant that Kravitz had grown fond of.

They still had a week before The Haunting, but Kravitz figured it wasn’t too late to contribute to the festivities.

“No. Oh my gods, no. Absolutely unacceptable.”

“Bluebelle, sweetie, just stay still.”

“Kravitz Queen, our daughter is named Blueberry Scone and you know that.”

Kravitz let go of the kitten with a sigh. She shook off the flower crown he’d placed around her ears and ran off. “You know the Raven Queen isn’t actually my mother, right?”

“One, yes she is, you take a Candlenights card photo with her and Istus literally every year. And two, what exactly are you doing to our cats?” Taako’s hands were on his hips. He’d maybe be a little less intimidating if Kravitz wasn’t sitting on the floor, but right now, the usually slight elf seemed rather imposing.

“Cats? Plural? Babe, I’m pretty sure I only had Blueberry with me.”

Taako laughed, loud and dangerous, tilting backwards slightly before the motion rebounded him forward and he was right in Kravitz’s face. “You’re shit at accents and you’re shit at lying.”

“I know at least five thousand former necromancers who would disagree.” Through the faux anger, Taako was still adorable. His nose scrunched up and his eyes were alight, and Kravitz found himself smiling.

Then he had a lap full of Taako and that smile became a grin.

“Ugh,” Taako sprawled himself out, lamenting against whatever strive Kravitz had apparently put them through. “I found tiny costumes all over the house. And Half Baked was crying at me because you put socks on him.”

“Sergeant Pepper liked the socks when I first put them on.”

“No!” Taako whacked Kravitz’s shoulder with the back of his palm. Even if Kravitz wasn’t a construct, it would hardly feel like anything. “You named Poe and Tchaikovsky after your favorite nerd shit and I respect that. You will call Half Baked and Blueberry Scone by their actual names.”

Kravitz was tempted to point out that Taako frequently referred to their skeletal cat as Baby Bones, Deluxe Gay, and Xylophone. “Okay, you caught me,” he said instead. “I wanted to get into the festival spirit.”

He dissipated his skin for a second, showing his skull, and Taako whacked his shoulder again as he laughed. “That is your worst joke. That joke is illegal.”

When the laughter died down, Kravitz spoke again. “You know The Haunting isn’t my favorite festival, but you seemed excited about it and now I… well I’m a bit disappointed I won't be here to celebrate with you. I thought getting costumes for the cats would be a nice surprise.”

“Sap,” Taako was still smiling and Kravitz would tell all the illegal jokes in the world in order to keep seeing that smile. “But okay, nice surprise except for you picked the worst costumes for our children.”

“That’s what you’re upset about?”

“Of course that’s what I’m upset about! Was Blueberry going to be a druid?”

“Yes, I thought the crowns they sold a Fantasy Petco matched her fur nicely.” Kravitz picked up the fallen string of flowers, toying with it.

Taako snatched it out of his hands and tossed it down the hall. “No! Who does she hate more than anyone in the world? Merle. And she is a smart girl, she knows what Merle does with plants. No way, not for my Blueberry.”

Kravitz sighed. “Okay, then Blueberry can go as a mummy and Sarg- Half Baked can go as a druid.”

“You were going to dress Half Baked as a mummy?? Kravitz! You work with the dead, you have to know that insensitive.”

“He’s a cat. And he’s not even undead - he’s just hairless.”

“Ugh!” Taako rolled out of his lap, crossing his legs to sit across from Kravitz. “What other horrors did you inflict on my babies?”

“Oh, so they’re your babies now, but they’re mine when they want to be fed at three in the morning?”

“Kravitz,” but even his sharp tone was softened as he tried and failed to hold back a grin.

“Okay, Blueberry was going as a druid, Half Baked as a mummy. I was going to give Poe little raven wings and Tchaikovsky was going to get a wizard hat.”

“Oh hun.” Taako rolled to his feet and offered a hand to Kravitz. “You are so lucky you have me. Leave you alone for five minutes and you are a complete fashion disaster.”

Kravitz took the hand, letting Taako pull him up and take them both into the kitchen. He started on dinner, pulling out different pots and pans and grabbing a thawed ham from the fantasy refrigerator. Kravitz found counter space that was far enough out of Taako’s wide work range and hopped up to sit on it.

“Okay, here’s why all those ideas are terrible. Blueberry Scone, nothing plant related. Half Baked will probably overheat if you put too much on him, which is probably why he was crying. More importantly, he cuddles with Baby Bones more than anyone else and Baby Bones will be sad if Half Baked isn’t all fleshy. The two of them hate blankets, so fabric that’s attached to Half Baked will make both of them cry. And for a cat without lungs, Baby Bones is loud.”

“His name is Tchaikovsky,” Kravitz pouted, not ready to surrender that Taako had a good point.

“Summon a book because you better take notes.” He started whisking something, bowl on his hip. Kravitz actually did summon a notebook and a quill as Taako continued. “Let Blueberry be a mummy, the socks will keep her from slipping into her ghost form. Half Baked should be painted with some hypoallergenic makeup to look like a pumpkin.

“Now Poe as a raven is clever but it’s boring. Black cat, black bird. Come on, babe, you’re better than that. Plus, the little gremlin will wriggle out of whatever you put him in. Drop him in some flour, I’ll transmute it blue, and stick a single Pom Pom on his head. Then Poe is a blueberry and it’s funny because we have a different cat named Blueberry.”

Kravitz laughed softly at that and Taako beamed. “And of course Tch’gay-sky should be illusioned with a black cloak and scythe and go as you for All Hallow’s.”

“Me?”

“Well yeah, he’s not a wizard. He’s clearly a baby reaper. Plus, if his costume is an illusion, he can’t accidentally eat it and have it fall through his bones.” Whatever Taako was whisking was poured into a pan and put in the oven. He was starting on the ham when Kravitz hopped off the counter and wrapped his arms around Taako’s waist.

“You’re so smart.”

“I know.”

Kravitz grinned, pressing his lips against Taako’s neck before taking a step back. “Alright, I guess I better return some things to Fantasy Petco.”

“You do that. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

“And actually, now that I think about it, I’ve got so much reaper work. You know how this season is.” Kravitz started inching out of the kitchen. And Taako froze.

“What did you do.”

“Did I mention you’re the smartest, most incredible man I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, in life and undeath?”

“Yes, and you can say it a million more times to make up for whatever other crime you’ve committed.” Taako narrowed his eyes, trying to piece together what Kravitz could have possibly done that he needed to skip out on dinner. It wasn’t really a big deal, Kravitz did usually work through dinner. But he wasn’t usually so skittish about it. Acting on a hunch, Taako opened the fantasy refrigerator again.

“Kravitz Queen, you did not!”

“I did.” At least he had the decency to look sheepish.

“That was for Angus. You know, a child, who won't eat anything other than trash food if he’s in a particular mood.”

“Maybe I was in a particular mood?”

“At least tell me you burned a spellslot on reheating it. Kravitz, I swear to Istus…”

“It was cold pizza and it was delicious. Iloveyousomuchbye!” There was a rip in the fabric of reality and Kravitz made his escape.

“No! Oh my gods, no, absolutely unacceptable! Kravitz!!”

Thanks for reading! Check out my charmedwords tag for more taz fics!

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Depths Below: Midnight Hour, Part 1

In the third week leading up to Lazarius being taken by the mercenaries and House Kash’ebahl falling into ruin, it would be the coordinated efforts of the members of the Nine leading the charge to extract a carefully planned revenge on the parties responsible.  Magister Dawnseeker had begun this assault by taking from them their precious Inquisitor, whether he realized it or not he was declaring open war on not only the house in question, but the Nine.  Each of the members of the order had their mission.  They were to deal with a particular member of the eleven magisters in question, leaving together but toward different places they would carry out their plan to eliminate the threat.  This was their Midnight Hour, on the hypothetical doomsayer clock, they were four minutes til. . .

[ L.K ]     Remaining calm, poised, she would have then levitate the third picture. The elf looked young, pompous. With dark brown hair and a jutted chin, he looked to be a smug piece of shit.

“Magister Evesblood, a rich boy who inherited everything his father left him. He works directly within Silvermoon most of the time, but there are reports that he does enjoy going south to Stranglethorn for ‘getaways ‘”.

She shot her eyes to Zalra and Siida.

“The two of you will find Marseille, and when you do, aid him and the three of you shift your attentions to the troll ruins on the far west coast. Evesblood practices shadow Magic’s and has been taking an interest in voodoo..”

Marseille was camped in the deepest part of the jungle in Stranglethorn Vale. Around him the sounds of the jungle and animals racing by, living, surviving. But this Shaldorei was all but silent. His fire was barely above the rock wall he had built to house the flame, his bedroll only slightly off the edge of it for warmth. And around the perimeter of his camp he would have a trip wire with tide driftwood and rocks to chatter when knocked. 

He had known that his mission was to kill Magister Sunwood, the man was barely capable of keeping his practice hidden. He knew where his manor was located deep in the jungles, more a getaway home than an actual manor. But somewhere he could fornicate whores and be perverse away from the magisters and society. Didn’t matter, he would be dead before dawn. 

In that moment the talisman around his wrist would flicker with a red light, he noted it. 

“This talisman will alert you to any of our order that are nearby. It will transport you back and forth from the estate and Bastille as you see fit. But more importantly it will allow me to keep tabs on you Shadewalker.”

He remembered what his master had said. Marseille would remain huddled by the fire in anticipation that someone had managed to track him. Although he would have no idea that Zalra was that talented of a huntsman and tracker?  But it appeared that someone was able to follow him as careful as he was. He would wait to see if whoever had found he knew of his trip wires and could avoid them.

[ S.K ]   There would be a chorus as the trip wires went off, though graceful on cobbled stone and paved streets, Siida Kash'ebahl was not suited to walking in the dark over tangling roots and vines She went feet over head, cursing softly as she held up a hand to stop Zalra from making the same mistake. She stood up careful, her clothes now dirtied and her hair a mess, holding leaves and bit of earth in it.

[ Z.A ]   The darkened forest was oddly quiet aside from the casual chatter of crickets and other odd insects. Morning approached and it was now time for the nocturnal creatures to retire for those that enjoyed the day; giving that brief, peaceful moment. Unfortunately, their mission sapped away any chance she had of a moment of respite. Not only was she to rescue Lazarius, but the youngest Kash’ebahl was ultimately her responsibility.

No matter how much the girl believed she could defend herself, Zalra was not going to hesitate in taking a shot for Siida. The huntress walked almost silently beside the woman as they proceeded through the shadow-soaked forest. Dawn was taking its time to slowly color the land and cast but a faint hum of light on the horizon. This only made the saturated darkness almost impossible to see through. But, Zalra was more practiced than to rely solely on a light. The young Kash’ebahl, however? Not so much.

The chattering of rocks and wood were like cannon fire in her ears and instinctively looked around their surroundings. In the distance, Zalra could make out the soft glow of a fire and immediately acted. She took Siida’s arm and dragged her behind the nearest tree before drawing her bow in defense.

However, upon taking another offensive step forward, she noticed her talisman glowing in response to being near another member of the order. Oh. What a relief. Stepping around the tree Zalra would motion for Siida to follow close behind as they reached the campsite; bow at the ready still. Indeed, there was Marseille.

[ L.K ]   As the pair of women stepped out into the light of his camp, the ancient Shaldorei did nothing but sit at attention with his hands resting firmly on his thighs, his straight back causing him to sit nearly at the same height as the younger sibling. 

“Miss Azurestar, Little Sister...”. The glowing eyed shade whispered softly in his calm deep voice.

“I am relieved the jungle has not devoured you whole, though troubled if you have been sent all this way by the Harbinger to reprimand me? You have not been sent to apprehend and return me have you?”.

It was as if he was secretly hoping they hadn’t. He did not wish to encounter a fight with two who were supposed to be his allies but again, shades were different. Lazarius would have said the same thing.

“Please...sit and join me at least. I planned to move out soon here but it can wait a bit longer. What brings you two out here to the jungle this early morning?”

[ S.K ]   "We are not here to reprimand you Marseillle, we're here to help you with your mission and slay the Magister." Siida dusted herself off and looked around before making herself comfortable.

"The jungle isn't aloud to devour anyone gathered around this fire, not if I have anything to say about it."

Siida grumbled and looked around at the dense forestry.

"What is your plan?"

[ L.K ]   “My plan?”. He said curiously as his eyes scanned back over the pair of them.

“Well my plan was to enter the grounds, sneak past the wards and sink my hatchet in his skull.”. The odd elf would shrug.

“You have no other purpose but to aid me? Surely the Harbinger must have another purpose if both of you were sent...that seems like a poor use of resources if she think it is going to take three of us to eliminate one Magister.”.

He wasn’t trying to be rude, just logical.

“Has there been any word on your brother yet?”

[ Z.A ]   Zalra simply nodded in agreement with Siida as there was nothing more to say on the subject. Perhaps for a vague sense of reassurance, Zalra muttered,

“It would be detrimental to go along with in-fighting and capture you, don’t you think?”

No, he was still free and not particularly in trouble.

Letting out a sigh towards Marseille’s ‘logical’ quip, she lowered her bow. Only slightly, however; this jungle made her wary, for good reasons.

“Take the Harbinger’s words how you will,” she began, raising a brow.

“’The two of you will find Marseille, and when you do, aid him and the three of you shift your attention to the troll ruins on the far west coast’. Did I get that right, Siida?” she asked, sounding a sprinkle salty.

“You plan to sneak by yourself? What of this shadow, voodoo magic this magister practices? Does that not affect…you?”

[ L.K ]   "With all due respect Miss Azurestar. . .I am not here for a voodoo magic magister." He slowly reached outward to grab the long sharpened stick that was used to stoke the flame and embers beneath.

"I feel as though nearly every one of you save for the Inquisitor have seen me as a thorn in your sides."

Perhaps he was offended by her tone. She wasn't exactly trying to be nice.

"I am here for a man known as Sunwood. Might I be so kind as to inquire. . .who has the Harbinger asked you to eliminate?"

Marseille slowly raised a brow in her direction as he peered up from the now yet again, climbing flame.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra bowed her head politely towards Marseille,

“It was my misunderstanding. I do apologize.”

She did not hate the Shal’dorei as she honestly did not have enough exposure to the shade to formulate a fair opinion. Her attitude and tone were relevant to the tasks she was assigned, but this she did not feel she had to audibly explain to the man. Perhaps later in their day, her actions could convince him otherwise as they planned to hasten his mission.

[ L.K ]   "Prior to all of this taking place, the Master had already detailed my mission. I was to eliminate these eleven magisters without any of you. Perhaps you lack the foresight to know the truth behind what you were being trained for Miss Azurestar."

Marseille calmly pulled himself back onto his rear and drew his knees up tight. He hugged them against his bare chest and sighed.

"You were to become a shade, like myself. But seeing as how your training has been halted. . . I would assume it has been put on hold. Shades are just th-" He stopped and shook his head.

[ Z.A ]    “A shade?” she echoed, her brows furrowing in vague confusion.

[ L.K ]   "It doesn't matter. As I have said, despite my inability to connect with any of you; granted I will not excuse myself for the ten thousand years I have been locked away in Suramar. . .but despite it all, I am trying. . .my methods may be unorthodox to you, but they are mine."

His tone was flat. Neither condescending nor rude, just . .tranquil.

"I feel as though we have all gotten off on the wrong feet, my flaw more than likely. . ."

[ S.K ]   Watching the two exchange what passed as pleasantries in the order, keeping her tongue still and mind calm until she found room to speak.

"Marseille...the word on my brother is that he's been taken back to the capital for either trial or torture...though I don't see it being beyond the close minded fools to try both...to what end, I'm not sure."

Siida looked to the flames, her eyes burning darkly at the idea of anyone making a toy or mockery of her family.

"Zalra and I have our talents, but we need your help."

She looked to the Shal'Dorei with pleading eyes, she did no doubt her brothers strength, but worry was etched upon that usually smiling face and it marred her beauty greatly.

"I will not ask you to forsake your task that was given to you prior to my brothers abduction...but I will ask that you allow us to help you to quicken your mission so that you can help us get to the magisters behind this attack on our house.."

Siida stood up from where she'd been sitting, her arms moving to wrap around her middle, despite the fire she couldn't help but feel a chill in the air.

"Please Marseille, at least consider it...if we are all here together it better that we work together."

[ L.K ]   The elf sat for a moment as he listened to the sounds of the jungle slowly get overtaken by the sing-song sweetness of the spry youthful girl. There was a gentle kindness behind her thoughts. She carried weight and conviction but there was something else, she was fearless.

An audible “Hmm” was passed in thought but as he contemplated her words, became more obvious that she was right.

Whether Zalra liked his methods or himself personally did not seem to matter anymore. She was right. For what seemed like a brief moment the masked elf smiled. His bandana down around his neck so it was clearly obvious.

“Little Sister...” He began as his words started to form.  “Your brother would be proud. You have grown. Not just in age, but in experience and wisdom. You honor him, his faith in you was well placed when you were offered ‘The Matron’ as your title.”.

He looked away as the warm air rushed through their camp. The warm breeze of the ocean in the distance.

“You should take it. You would bring balance and much needed insight with your courage to an otherwise shaky system of violence and anger.”

He nodded at her once. It was firm and exact to her sentence as she ended it.

“Whatever the task, we shall do it together...and when this has concluded, I will personally accompany you back to the Bastille and work toward ending this threat...I would be honored to serve your needs Matron.”

[ Z.A ]   Before she could think of it any further, the young lady stepped forth. Siida’s wise words elicited a small smile to tug at the corner of the Ren’doreis dark lips.

“It does seem fitting”

She murmured to the younger Kash’ebahl.  Her illuminated gaze drifted back to Marseille.

[ S.K ]   Siida continued to watch the flames for a moment longer before she turned to look upon Marseille and Zalra. Her sister had picked them for good reason, they had their talents and as a team they would work well together

"You pay me too high a compliment, both of you....but my ego and pride do not matter at the moment...Marseille what do we need to do to help you find this target?"

[ L.K ]   Marseille continued to rest by the fire as he listened to both of them speak. More so he was trying to figure out how the lot of them could infiltrate the magisters grounds first.

His original plan was going to be to just storm through the front door and end him. Simple, clean, efficient. But the more he thought about such a fools errand, the more he began to wonder if there was a slightly better way to work this to their advantage.

"I have an idea. . ."

The Shal'dorei began. His glowing white eyes would flicker with arcane energy as he started to wonder whether it was good or not. He'd hoped it was.

"Little sister. . ."

There was yet another pause. Marseille was a soft spoken man. They knew that just by his short responses and rare occasions of getting so much as a hello. If Marseille so much as looked at you that was more than one could as for. But in this case, it would be necessary for the them to plan.

"Perhaps you would like to weigh-in Huntmaster?" had he just acknowledged Zalra?

"Siida is our hidden gem."

He paused as he let the words sink in as he thought of how to form the sentence.

"These magisters may or may not know of the masters current predicament. But they would know the name. Kash'ebahl; they have been blackmailing your House for quite some time, and now with this advantage. . .they are striking to siphon more."

He slowly drew one of his blades from the loop on his belt, throwing daggers; there were about twelve.

"You are a leader lilttle sister. It is time you use that persona to your advantage. Believe it or not I was present in Uldum when you took charge to protect those innocent lives. I was there to witness your talents. My plan is quite simple. We march upon the Magisters home and face him. No surprises."

He would begin to coat the blade in the fire, turning and tempering it slowly while keeping his hands back from the flame.

"The anger of the sister. Surely one such as Sunwood; well. . .he has no backbone. We should use this. Huntmaster. . .you and I should stand beside our Lady. Silent, firm and aggressive. Strike fear without harm. And we use this coward as a catalyst to draw out the other who is here."

"It is time for you. . .Little Sister, to command. And should you need time, and temper your will to such things know that my support will be there to aid you in your path. I cannot speak for the Huntmaster here, but you have my blade and axe. . . A Matron needs a left and right hand to carry out her order."

[ S.K ]   Marseille's words were like a slap to Siida's face...not in the fact that they hurt, but simply because they were shocking. Her lead? Taking point on anything seemed like a dangerous idea at best, but she knew full well that she needed to step up...if Marseille was willing and Zalra didn't find it offensive to considered a right or left hand to the Matron, she certainly wouldn't turn them down.

Taking a breath she rung her hands together, remembering how she'd behaved at the dig site, her fears having fallen away then in the defense of those she cared for, it was time to be like that again, to be strong and to remind those that she was indeed a Kash'ebahl, not some dainty miss with moon light hair and doll like features. Even little flowers had thorns after all.

"I believe your plan to be sound Marseille, we give them no quarter, no preamble...we meet them at their gates and show them that they've crossed the wrong House."

"I will of course accept your ax, your blade...and Zalra, I find your mind and talents to be destructive and creative in only the best of ways, you stood with me, faced your own fears about the order....I would see you take your confidence and apply it to the task at hand, we cannot let these magisters, these pretenders that they have even an ounce of control over us or those who choose to walk the path we've built."

[ L.K ]   “The sun rises shortly. If we are going to give them our retaliation let it be at dawn. Let them see us in our full light, no shadows no deception. Allow them to fear that which we bring them, and know that you will not be trifled with.”.

He would stoke the flame again and peer toward the other elf.

“I do not mean to put pressure on either of you, but this order must remain strong and bond under duress. This is our time. Remember this moment that we make this pact.”.

He looked toward Siida and nodded.

“Should the master fall, it will be you I follow. You are the Matron and as such, will council you and aid you however it is needed. And I am sure having someone like the Huntmaster by your side gives you an even greater edge.”

[ S.K ]   "Follow me?" Siida looked at Marseille as if he'd grown another head.

"If...and I do mean on the shakiest grounds of if my brother has fallen or will fall...it will be my sister who should stand before the order not I."

Siida may consider herself to be many things, but she did not yet see herself as a leader, not of the order. A guide, a confidant....Verzatea would be a better pick.

[ L.K ]   “You should not be so hard on yourself Little Sister.”. Said the soft spoken Shaldorei. He peered back at her with those soft pink eyes.

“You are capable. You are brave enough to stand for what you believe in despite the darkness around you. That is courageous. You are strong. But that is why the council needs you. Balance is imperative.”

“That is why they seat nine. The weight on the shoulders of one...would kill you. You have changed your brother in ways that even centuries in the void could not do...he is dedicated to protecting all of us...you did that.”

[ S.K ]   A shaking breath left Siida as she nodded, her eyes closing as she imagined the steps ahead of them. "We have our course, we have our plan...we will succeed and be that much closer to saving my brother."

[ L.K ]   He reached over and lightly curled his hand around her forearm.

“He once told me something...something that allowed me to understand exactly what all of this meant...why it was important.”.

The elf smiled and nodded to the younger elf.

“Your loyalty is to our order, our people...our family. Not me.”. Marseille smiled and motioned to her with a lowering gaze. “We do this to protect our way of life, and ensure we survive. . .”

“That is something I forgot until recent...something you have reminded me of...”

“Do not worry...we will be victorious Little Sister.”

[ S.K ]   "I do not worry for us....no...I worry for them." Siida let that hang there as her eyes turned to the fire and a pensive expression took over her features as she let a wave a of black swirling energies take over her gaze.

"There will be no tricks once we are at the gates...but for tonight, let them know no rest, no peace in their dreams, let the voices and whispers of the powers they do not understand haunt their waking worlds."

A curse, fleeting as it was powerful. A howling on the wind cut through the forest like a titan's blade. Picking herself up, Siida removed herself to one of the tents to get some sleep. Her dreams at least would be happy ones.

Within the tent, Siida let out a heavy and shaking breath. She was already feeling the weight of expectations and her slight frame trembled at the idea of having to stand as tall as the others. Falling back on a sleeping mat her eyes looking up from the ceiling, seeing the night sky as if she wasn't under cover at all.

"Brother....where are you?" She asked the heavens, knowing there would likely be no answer.

[ Z.A ]   ”Should the master fall, it will be you I follow.--’ The shal’dorei’s words forced a paused reaction from the huntress.

She quickly tried to hide the furrow of her brow from the two still speaking, as she clamored into her mind. It was a possible reality. A bitter thing to swallow, for sure, but Zalra could hardly digest the thought.

Lazarius was not impervious to death; he was strong, yes, but still had his weaknesses. Just as everyone did. Her stomach twisted in response as she desperately shook herself from the negativity that threatened to spiral her thoughts deeper. She just wanted him back. Deeply so.

“We reveal ourselves like uninvited, terrifying guests.” Zalra echoed the plan in a soft whisper. Mostly for distraction and a bit of conversation to the shal’dorei.

“This will certainly be interesting. But, victorious nonetheless. Good vibes, right?”  Right. She took a seat upon a log close by.

[ L.K ]   “Good vibes indeed...”. He responded as he removed a black stone from the small traveling purse he kept by the fire. Slowly and methodically he would begin to temper and sharpen the blades by heating them and scraping them length wise down the stone.

As Siida slowly made her way off to rest as dawn was still a good hour or more from breaking, the Shaldorei peered over toward the ren’dorei.

“You are his apprentice?” Marseille asked looked over to her with a peaking brow.

“Sennaris was his last...”. The man said scraping the blade and letting it heat by the fire as he grabbed another.

“When I met him...he was the first man outside of Suramar I’d laid eyes on in ten thousand years. Instantly drawn to his sophisticated charm...this war...the Horde and Alliance. They are not meant for people like us.”.

The next blade was slowly stroked against the edge with careful precision.

“He told me...fighting along side him and this order would secure a place for those in our position...a place to be free. Safe from persecution and able to be what we are...criminals with hearts. Mad men with souls..monsters with sympathy.”. He smiled softly and looked toward her.

“He speaks fondly of you quite a bit Zalra Azurestar. He is proud of you. Respects you...you’re a very important part of this order and you should know how loved you are...”

[ Z.A ]   Zalra’s dark, violet eyes found comfort in watching the pit’s flame dance before the two elves. In the midst of her lingering gaze, she absentmindedly fiddled with the gauntlet woven against her mail bracers. The same gauntlet Lazarius had recently crafted for her. She tapped the metal buckler with her long nails, unintentionally in rhythm with the shal’dorei’s sharpening.

The huntress stopped immediately, however, when Marseille began to speak; the first words out of his mouth being a question. One she thought the answer to be known by now. Regardless, she provided a weak smile to the shade.

“Yes, I am.” A rare, rather brief snicker left her nose in a little huff. “I don’t doubt many came before me.”

She took her attention off of the fire and turned her gaze to Marseille.

“Sophistic charms, indeed.” She related; her tone soft and quiet. “I found myself instantly drawn to him when I stumbled into that…little shop in Stormwind. Company in such a lonely life…” She smiled absentmindedly while a brief memory of a small apartment and many drinks filled her thoughts. Being taken from her daze, she chuckled audibly.

“Monsters with souls. I like that…” she breathed, “Very accurate--”

‘He speaks fondly of you quite a bit Zalra. He is proud of you. Respects you...you’re a very important part of this order and you should know how loved you are...’

“Quite a bit…?” she murmured, looking rather surprised. Zalra was aware of Lazarius’ pride in her…how could she not be after what he told her days previous? She shook her head hearing an echo of Lazarius' voice; scowling at such a distracting thought. But, her expression returned to that soft stare from before.

[ L.K ]   The pink eyes of the slender elf would fixate on his work, stroke after stroke. The blade would carefully turn and bend with his wrist allowing a feathered edge to begin crafting along it.

“There were times while you were off in Stormwind, I would accompany the master to Eversong. Cloaked and disguised of course as a traveling band of gypsys, minstrels and merchants, a band of thieves. We spoke of the world. Life and love. Our order and our past. Would you care to know every little detail?”. He smirked as he glanced up from his work at her. It wasn’t meant to be sarcastic, maybe she was eager to hear all those juicy details. “Lazarius is an old being. Not nearly as old as myself...God’s know the Shaldorei are an ancient people... but his time in The void... he far exceeds the limits of your species, especially knowing what we do of his time spent afar. . .”.

[ Z.A ]    “I am honored I have made it this far. That he even accepted me, to begin with.” However, there was a pause. “I am to become a shade, you said?”

[ L.K ]    Marseille would place the blade by the other four and continue sharpening the rest on his belt.

“I cannot quote him, for he has not mentioned it but I would wager you are either meant to Shade...or become a member of the council. Your natural ability to bend the void and also track and hunt...those skills are absolutely priceless. I did not mean to stroke your ego...” he said stroking the blade across the stone.

“But Huntmaster is how I see you. You need only stick to your convictions as Little Sister has. Do not stand down and put the needs of the order first...I see no doubts in you that would mean you are not deserving of such a position.”

[ Z.A ]   When the shal’dorei played on her infamous curiosity, she couldn’t help but straighten up in her seat. The wonder of what someone says about one’s self? To indulge herself just a little bit on the hidden thoughts someone had about her? Zalra smirked, ending the brief expression with a teasing smirk.

“If you are offering details, I wouldn’t be one to decline them.”

Her tone remained patient; soft. Very characteristic of the bashful woman. A trait she was unfortunately beginning to grow out of. What a shame. Following Marseille’s movements, she bit the inside of her cheek at his words.

“A member of the council…” she breathed. Now, that would be something to see. A position that would not be declined by the huntress, however, a seat that she wasn’t sure she deserved. Even with all the praise; perhaps just terrified of making herself look like a fool.

“I appreciate your words, Marseille.” She responded, still looking at him with a polite smile.

“When we get Lazarius back…maybe my training can continue and that might…be a reality. Whichever choice he has in store for me. But, do not worry, my life is to protect the order first, of course…”

[ L.K ]   “That is good. Good to remember. Good to keep in the forefront of your mind at all times.”.

Marseille placed the eleventh throwing knife on the warming stone and went for the final in his bandolier.

“Everything you do has a reflection back on our conjoined paths. Where you eat, who you speak with, who you’re seen with...you need to always remember you are a hidden representation of the Nine and whatever you do , mistake or not could have a butterfly effect on us all.”. He placed the blade against his stone and began to rock it back and forth.

“You were fearless in Uldum. I was there, you more than likely did not notice but I was there. You were also brave facing off against that mad doctor in Kun Lai. You put yourself last and braced to protect all of us”. He would resume his sharpening after a quick heat on the blade.

“Dont sell yourself short. Your accomplishments are great. The Master builds character. Every one of the council now has been shaped to be how they are...save for maybe his twin and the demon. But The Confessor..the Compellor...Little Sister becoming the Matron...and you...”.

The final blade was put to rest along side the rest of its siblings.

“You should embrace the mentality that you are the Huntmaster. Build that confidence and you’ll see...soon enough you’ll be leading raid parties and scouting expositions for us all.”

[ Z.A ]   As Zalra patiently listened to the shade speak of caution and consequence, her mind couldn’t help but drift to remind her of her ‘day job’. Spurring chaos on Alliance lines with leaking classified plans to the Horde for a pretty penny.

Befriending higher ranked individuals so her supply of information never ran out. All of these could not only falter on her at any moment but additionally, her capture and execution could bring unwanted attention to the Nine. Something the order did NOT need more of. It was a path of eggshells she surprisingly maneuvered with the grace of a practiced dancer.

Except for her intention to not make any true connections with the soldiers she blended in with. Loose lips were always a threat when one became too trustful of another, and that was something Zalra could not risk.

At the time, at least. But alas, there she was making a legitimate friend from a side she was constantly betraying. Those tiny details could be kept silent, though…right? Right. Shaking herself from these thoughts, the ren’dorei looked back to Marseille’s weapon stash.

There was a cute little smile on her face as more confidence was tossed her way. Maybe she was starting to get there was ground to her growing pride.

“Your words are starting to grow on me,” she teased, looking back to the man. “I can already see it if that doesn’t sound vain. No, wait, sorry. I’m embracing it.” A tiny snicker left her.

[ L.K ]   “Embrace it...”. He said with a firm nod. The Shaldorei next removed the troll tomahawk from the belt loop behind his back. He would fan his fingers over the beads and feathers, the pink eyes of the man scanned over the edge as his thumb moved along it.

“And as the years go on, I will remain, ever vigil and ever dedicated to ensuring you are able to do such tasks. That is the Shade.”  Marseille began to slide the edge of the axe along the stone just as the first signs of daylight began peeking up over the horizon of the waters edge. Morning.

“You need to come around more...you need to make them aware you are always watching even undercover. Little Sister especially. She is fond of you, as am I. You...are good, Zalra Azurestar.” he was, sadly bad with most words when it came to compliments. But she could see he was trying.

[ S.K ]   There was a rustling from the tent that Siida had taken herself too, she was awake, having never really slept as she stepped out, feeling the sun's first teasing rays of light. It was almost time wasn't it?

[ L.K ]   Marseille instantly came to attention the moment her delicate steps reached the cleared out encampment. His bow low and humbling as she made herself know.

“Matron. I have prepared and scouted ahead...the path to the Magisters bungalow is three hundred paces north by northwest. No resistance and minor ground to transverse.”

[ S.K ]   The bowing took her her off guard as Siida offered a nod of her head. "Very well...we'll leave once everyone is ready...I do not with to force either of you before the moment feels right, though I doubt going to conflict will never have a right moment."

[ L.K ]   “I move on your order.”. Marseille began to replace the twelve blades on his bandolier as well as finish the remaining job on his axe.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra stood at attention just as Marseille did. Her bow was brief, however, and nowhere near as deep as the shade's. With her weapon firmly grasped in her right hand, the huntress nodded to the Matron's inquiry.

"I am ready to move, Siida. Lead the charge." She gave the young woman a confident, tiny smile.

[ S.K ]   Siida gave Zalra a look that read she was pleased the woman had used her name rather than calling her Matron....she wasn't ready for that formality yet. "Then we move out..Marseille, take up the lead and we will follow."

[ L.K ]   “Your will be done.”. The Shaldorei said and in an instant he was ignited in the thrill of the hunt.

The pink eyes of the man burst in an arcane energy and he suddenly shattered into a cloud of energy. He reappeared several yards up the path. He was walking, and another blink. He was kneeling at a footprint, another blink to a mark on a tree. Several seconds later he was a good thirty meters down the path into the jungle.

The shade was not trying to lose them, he was just marvelously fast. Perhaps it was his arcane ability? Maybe something to do with time magic? Who knew. What was obvious is he was tracking the location.

He would wait where he landed last, on his knees lightly tracing his fingers through the sunken print of a boot and hoof. He would wait until the other two caught up to him to speak.

“The Magister favors his left side, he is accompanied by three guards and a cart...judging by the hoof prints, drawn by a palomino and pinto. Four in the cart...”. He would sniff the air lightly. “Lilac... ginsing...lavender ... rose petal.... brandy.”. He peered back at Siida with glowing arcane eyes.

“The residence is over this ridge.”

[ S.K ]   Pale eyes looked over the path that Marseille seemed to traverse like he was made of nothing but air. She imagined Zalra would have no trouble's keeping up, but as to mind their approach, Siida made no attempts to quickly catch up, minding each and every step as she went. Without keen senses like the Shade, Siida took everything Marseille relayed as truth. They must have been having some necessities restocked or perhaps the magister was in the business of trading goods?

"Let's keep on then if we're so close."

[ Z.A ]   Zalra would remain at Siida's side with her weapon poised to attack in case of potential ambush; from either their enemy or dangerous jungle wildlife. The ren'dorei had absentmindedly taken up her position as the young Kash'ebahl's personal guard quite swiftly. However, Marseilles quick movements did cause a minor distraction. It was interesting, really. The blinks managed to elicit an admiring little smile from the huntress; she always enjoyed seeing what other were capable of.

"Is this man known to heavily drink? If so, talking might prove a little more difficult."

Just some light humorous talk for the roads.

[ L.K ]   He quickly paced himself back to the pair of women as his eyes looked around.

"From what I have gathered in my intelligence on the Magister Sunwood. . . he is a womanizing, egotistical, drunk who enjoys his women, wealth and power."

Marseille would remain on point as they made their way further down the trail. He would enlighten them to more on the man as they pressed the trail.

"He is extorting the Kashebahl house for trade route funding to and from Silvermoon City. He controls a large portion of the commerce transfer in and out of the trade commission building. There. . ." Marseille pointed toward the path leading to the bungalow. "That is our trail head. . .his home is there."

[ S.K ]   “Of course I get to deal with a womanizer...a wrathful woman would have been better for this job." She mumbled to herself and looked towards the path.

"Though this may play into our favor...." She looked herself over and knew she could alter what was wearing. "Diplomacy first, weapons second.”

[ Z.A ]   Zalra glanced over at Siida, "I think a sweet woman might entice him more, If I know drunk womanizers." And boy did she ever. One the duo's mark, she would continue forth by the Matron's side.

[ S.K ]   "Then I suppose I was the right pick for this after all...though you can pass for sweet and demure too." Siida was quick to offer Zalra a smile, better to keep the mood light.

[ L.K ]   "Of course you both can pass wonderfully as innocents. . ."

Marseille noticed that they were drawing close and suddenly there was an arcanic flash of energy. His appearance would shift into a handsome, bronze toned Sin'dorei.

"As can I. . .No point in sticking out further than we already do. Three Sin'dorei look less menacing than one with a Ren'dorei and a Shal'dorei. . ."

[ S.K ]   "I know we agreed upon no tricks..but looking as we do, we could play upon his malice and gluttonous desire to appear magnanimous before women?" Siida suggested, looking almost mischievous.

[ L.K ]   "I could always alter my illusion. .if you would like us to appear as three women?" asked the Shade as he pressed on.

[ S.K ]   “You are our guardian....it would be strange for three women to be wandering these roads alone.”

[ L.K ]   Marseille would nod as she commanded, flipping the now golden braid that hung over his shoulder; back against his spine.

"Of course. I shall assume the role then. Guardian. And how shall we be introducing ourselves? Shall I remain the silent chaperone?" They were getting closer, the bungalow was in sight

[ S.K ]   "I will still be Siida Kashe'bahl....the sweet little sister coming to plead mercy for her brother...." Her tone darkened some at the lie, she wanted to rip the man apart.

[ L.K ]   "And Miss Azurestar?" asked Marseille as he noted a change in the foot patterns and moved them accordingly.

"I would assume an alias for us both would be in order?"

[ S.K ]   “Vassals of house Kashe'bahl...not entirely untrue....simply the name that I call you will do, Zalra, Marseille....unless you'd like something different?”

[ L.K ]   "Nestor Lightbottom." He said instantly without missing a beat. "My sin'dorei alias."

He snickered a little bit. "Please do not ask. . ."

[ S.K ]   Siida's brows lofted to nearly hide in her golden tresses "There is a story there and you'll tell it to me one day."

[ L.K ]   He would feel a surge of blood pour into his face as the tone of his skin flushed with bright red. "Of course I shall Little Sister. . .there is no way of escaping that. . ."

[ Z.A ]   Zalra too, activated her little necklace and shifted into her Sin'dorei form. Colbolt, curly locks were dyed an inky black, while her pale blue skin quickly turned a light, tanned hue. Even those dark, void tainted eyes of her's shone with a familiar fel-green.

"My name shall be Kyori Rosespear." she said, using a rather sultry voice. A large smirk soon tugged upon her now ruby lips.

[ S.K ]   "Nestor and Kyori...wonderful names...and well...jaw dropping guises." She didn't try to see how they held up to magical investigation, it was better to not know, it would make the lie more believable after all.

[ L.K ]   “Kyori...” he said committing it to memory. The Sindorei disguised man would peered toward her with a pair of burning fel eyes. Despite the disguise he wore, the nearly foot and half lost in his height and the thin, gangling appearance he once kept, the armor of for lack there of did fit well on him.

He would calmly shift into a position the two of them would recognize greatly from a man they both loved in very different ways, the stance of the Inquisitor. Hands cupped behind his back and pressed against his spin, if it hadn’t been for the shaved head and blonde ponytail, the blades and armor, well he was the spitting image. No doubt taught to him by Lazarius when they spent their time together.

“Sunwood grotto.”. Marseille said as they created over the hill and stood along the trail peering down at a beautiful little summer home. The sounds of music and splashing could be heard, clearly someone was home. And by the looks of it, Marseille was eerily accurate in his detective work. A horse drawn carriage with both breeds stood munching in a stable, detached from it but still nearby.

“Ive an idea...”. Marseille stepped lightly, his blinking body bounding twenty feet in a step as he teleported over to the cart. He was pressed along side it, they would both notice him pluck a small device from his bag on his belt. It was blinking a little red light, then as he twisted it, a blinking green light. He stuck it under the cart and once assured it was secure, he would blink back to Siida and ‘Kyori’ as they made their way to the door. Seconds lost, it would be so fast that anyone looking would have missed his vanish completely.

“Incase we need to follow him.”. He said softly assuming his place behind the woman in the same stance as he waited for them to pull the door chime. This was it.

[ S.K ]   Trepidation had no place in Siida's heart as she reached out, delicate fingers wrapping around the chime to give it a fair shake, making sure to alert anyone that they had visitors. Glancing to Nestor and Kyori, she readied herself for whatever was to come next. To whoever opened the door, Siida would be unarmed and holding a relaxed but proper posture. In every sense of the word she demure, soft, and not in the least bit threatening.

[ L.K ]   And the door was opened hastily by the keeper of the bungalow. A well off looking man with a fine suit and clean cut face and hair, an elf as well.

“Good morning, how odd to see three out of place individuals like yourself in such a place as this? Were you part of the initial party that was late? Magister Sunwood has left word that stragglers could hitch a ride with the returning caravan. You braved the wilds yourself. So impressive.”. The butler said. “To whom might I have the pleasure of speaking?”

[ S.K ]   "My name is Siida Ray Kash'ebahl, these are my companions Nestor Lightbottom and Kyori Rosespear. We are here in the hopes of speaking to Magister Sunwood on a matter of great importance." Siida offered a polite curtsy and genuine enough smile. No lies, not yet at least.

[ L.K ]   Marseille moved not an inch, standing behind the two women in silence.

“Miss... Kashebahl you say?”. He would reach for a parchment scroll that was contained in a ceramic tube by the door, scanning the contents for the names. Lightbottom pfft; a chortle.

“I...don’t see you on the guest list. Unfortunately Magister Sunwood is quite indisposed entertaining his guests. I do hate to put you out so far away from home and having come all this way...”

[ S.K ]   “I can assure you sir that the Magister might wish to see me if you inform him that I'm here, I do not wish to take him away from his revelry...we will wait if we must but I would rather this arduous trek have not been in vain.”

[ L.K ]   The butler was not without some sympathy. His fel fire eyes would look to them and he opened the door.

“Come in out of the sweltering heat at least... what is the nature of your visit I will see if I can pry him away for a moment to address this so you had not been so inconvenienced”

[ Z.A ]   Zalra stood just as silently with the familiarly poised shade, as her burning, emerald gaze stayed level with the man who allowed them entrance. As the group would cross the threshold together, the huntress' ears immediately wobbled as she slyly focused on the sounds within the home.

Though, her calm expression would thankfully not give way to her defensive demeanor; she was just absentmindedly preparing for any potential unwelcome surprises.

[ S.K ]   "I seek some information that only the Magister may know, my house has been under attack and I wish to know why...and to perhaps strike a bit of business." Siida would happily come in out of the harsh heat, not she appeared to be bothered by it.

[ L.K ]   “Oh dear.. well then let me please go ring for him. If you would all be so kind as to wait here...”. The butler would take to the back of the grotto and leave them. Two guards armed and watching were in the hall, far enough out of war shout.

“If he does not back down..”. Marseille said standing to the right of his mistress. “The signal to dispatch...”. He said softly enough for only the three of them to hear.

[ S.K ]   Siida would motion with her hand, running it through her pale tresses. "Simple enough to see and it won't raise suspicion."

[ L.K ]   Marseille nodded, rather Nestor. The moment would be brief as they waited. Part of him hoping the man would show, part of him hoping he would not, either way he would be prepared for bloodshed, despite their attempts to resolve this without it.

The next few moments were silent, and after a few more, the butler returned and stood in the door frame leading to the back.

“Please, Miss Kashebahl and your associates...wont you join us in the back for refreshments?”.

The man would lead them down the hall while the guards now four, followed behind. They would exit into a poolside oasis with pool, bar, refreshments and food. Girls...yes, a few dozen, topless, not topless, all with drinks in their hands. There were men as well, most were being serviced, some were talking with one another. As they walked, the soft voice of the shade spoke to her.

“Fourteen guards, armed. Nine men, well over two dozen women... more or less entertainers from the looks.”

And then he was silent.

The butler would walk them around the pool and over to a large cabana with a grass roof, there sitting in a lounge chair with two Sindorei women spooning him, was the Magister Sunwood. A handsome man of course but very off putting with his blatant abuse of power and wealth.

“Miss Kashebahl...good morning to you..so far from home. Odd. You came all this way to pay me a visit and I have nothing but food and drink to offer you.”

[ S.K ]   It took all the composure that Siida possessed not to show disgust when she saw the man, and an even greater feat was taken to appear awestruck by the Magister and his....prowess. She had been silently going over her plans in her head, listening to Marseille as they made it perfectly clear the number of souls they'd be dealing with if this got ugly.

"Magister Sunwood, a pleasure and an honor sir." Siida bowed her head in greeting, using her hair to try and hide the blush she'd forced into her cheeks.

"Your hospitality is most welcome and we are appreciative....though I wish you wouldn't sell what you have to offer at such a low point." Standing tall once more she ignored the two women that were draped around him...simpering, mewling cows.

"I came to speak with you on a matter of some personal importance."

[ L.K ]   The eyes of the man would suddenly narrow as she insulted him in more ways than one, but he smiled, and sucked it down as he leaned forward to sit in his lounging chair.

“Miss Kashebahl, you are too kind...”.

And with a snap of his fingers, the women knew it was their time. The two elven girls would gather their clothing and saunter off to the pool.

“A matter of great importance hmm?”

He swung his legs around and let them plant on the ground as he thought.

“I can assure you the only business the Magistrate has with the house of Kashebahl only comes in the form of a deposit every month in my safety box in Silvermoon City bank...”

He smiled widely and peered toward the girl.

[ S.K ]   "It's easy to make a relationship sound so simple when it's reduced to simple coin and little else."

Siida watched as the two women took their time in leaving, her eyes going back to the Magister.

"I am not my brother, I simply wish to understand where and why this attack against my house has happened. I've only just returned to my family after being lost for a time..." She didn't stand down, not yet. "Surely you can spare me a few moments for a conversation."

[ Z.A ]   Zalra kept a mental note on Marseille's information whispered to them before the magister's rather...interesting introduction. As much as the huntress knew about men such as Sunwood, she had never had the 'pleasure' of witnessing first hand the way wealth was just poured over such frivolities. But, like a good little personal guard, 'Kyori' kept her crimson lips sealed. Eyes fixated on the Magister with a careful demeanor.

[ L.K ]   The Magister was shaking his head and finally standing to stretch. He was a bit overweight for a Sindorei, no doubt lavish days in the sun and eating too much did not give his physical appearance any kudos.

“You seem to be mistaken Miss Kashebahl...I never arranged an attack on anyone. The only arrangement I have with your family is the illegal transfer of weapons and armaments from south of Arathi, and through to Northrend. My silence on the matter was the agreement. Your house pays the nominal fee...and the commission board looks away.”. He towered over her some and looked down toward her.

“I know nothing of an attack...”

[ S.K ]   Nothing? Siida didn't want to believe him for a moment,but she would play along. A look of grief took over her face.

"We've been everywhere...speaking to so many...my brother was taken and the house is falling into disrepair..." She sniffled, eyes welling with tears.

"I had hoped that you'd know something...I just want to find him.."

[ L.K ]   What was she doing...Marseille was gritting his teeth. She was going to collapse right here and ruin everything. His eyes darted back and forth between Zalra and the rest of the on going party guests.

“Oh child...no no please..”. Sunwood shockingly said as he reached over and grabbed a persons clothing, no doubt a dancer, and offered it as a handkerchief.

“No tears ... you are far too beautiful to be soggy and sad.”. He charmingly said lifting her chin to gaze back at him.

“Magister Dawnseeker was clear in his intentions. Extort your house for more. It was a prime opportunity to take when we knew the estate had fallen at Tirisfal.  That is how the game is played my dear. . .your brother knows this.  But I can assure you the only thing I was asked was to sign the agreement to fund his initiative. Whatever Dawnseeker planned to do...he revealed nothing to neither I or the rest who offered to pay for his investments...are you saying the money we gave has gone to...kidnapping your brother?”

Marseille nearly dropped his jaw. The sad girl gag...it worked...unbelievable.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra was trying so hard to not smirk while Siida worked on her marvelous bravado. The Sad Girl Gag. It worked most of the time if executed appropriately; and damn was she ever proud of the young Kash'ebahl's manipulative talents thus far. Her expression, thankfully, played to the Matron's act as she gave her ward a convincing, sympathetic grimace.

[ S.K ]   The offered token was taken gratefully as Siida wiped her eyes and tried to stifle a sniffle. Those dewy kissed eyes looked up at the Magister, wide with almost natural surprise as she listened to him spill his guts.

"You...only offered the funds to see this horrible deed done?" She asked, wanting to hear him admit it before they took the next steps.

"If that is the case, than you were deceived as my friends were attacked and my brother forcefully taken from his home."

[ L.K ]   “Why of course my child. The collective lot only paid for whatever Dawnseeker had planned, he had stated that he would ensure your house with double their money drops or your brother would need to be reminded why he was funding us to begin with. He is a very high ranking member of the court...we just...obeyed.”. The thought that something nefarious was going down almost displayed a look of sadness from him.

“I had no idea the plan was to harm any of you...”

[ S.K ]   “Then I need your help sir...please."

Siida looked to him, nearly pleading as she continued her act. There may not be a need to harm the man after all...his lifestyle sickened Siida to no end, but for the moment he had his usefulness.

"Help me right this wrong, in this day and age with the uncertainty of the worlds balance there is no need for in fighting among ourselves.....”

[ L.K ]   “Help you..”. And there it was.

“Why on Azeroth would I help you? I am astonished that Dawnseeker would go to such lengths to try and squeeze more money from your house. By which I am sympathetic...but your brother has made his bed. Whatever nefarious deeds your house is involved in, my silence is expensive...I will not lose my chance to reap more benefits...I am truly sorry but...I cannot openly turn against my benefactors...”. He tilted his head slowly.

“You understand don’t you sweet child.”.

And now he was getting handsy, giving her shoulder a much too comfortable groping as he licked his lower lips admiring her supple, creamy features and shape. Pervert.

This took nearly all of the restraint in the Shaldorei to not put a blade through the mans hand in that moment, but he held.

[ S.K ]   Too the young Kash'ebahl's credit, she didn't immediately give them the sign to attack, oh how she wanted to....but there was one more chance to give this man and if he failed...retribution would win over democracy. Taking a breath she met his gaze, looking concerned.

"You must understand that I came here in hopes of more understanding...the fear of losing your power, wealth, this hedonistic temple....I imagine that very idea stirs troubled thoughts into your mind...but would it not also cause similar thoughts to turn in the mind of Dawnseeker, a man whom came to you for aid...not the other way around."

Siida let her hand rise and run along the mans bare arm, her tone softening as if it were only the two of them talking.

"You do not need Dawnseeker...you've made all of this yourself and you could have that much more...my house as your ally....our resources joining...you'd have more power than ever before and you could see Dawnseeker on his knees, and any other noble might just do the same."

[ L.K ]   He began to think as she played off of his greed and lust for power. How she was managing to manipulate his desires and yet still appear so weak and pathetic toward the man. It caused his senses to tingle and his lusting for her even greater.

Each word from her lips causes the redness of his ears and cheeks to flush, aroused by the thought. Aroused by her touch. She felt his slimy grip slip along her waist as he stepped ever closer.

“An alliance...so the house Of Kashebahl...and Sunwood. Unified. Eliminate the others, cut out the loose ends and ... Dawnseeker.”.

She felt that same disgusting paw begin it’s ascension toward her breasts. The man was nauseating to watch.

“I stole all of this by crushing smaller houses and taking their wealth... Dawnseeker has always... allowed the strong to survive for a price...my price and loyalty, was all of this... I am... I ... you would double it?”

[ S.K ]   Her hand captured his before it could find it's mark, taking all the control she could and focusing, seeing the way the man was faltering on his morals, loyalty was something that could be bought and manipulated.

As she caught his hand, Siida lifted it to her lips, those rose petal soft lips brushing kisses upon his knuckles as she looked up, that coy gaze lit by something any man would be unable to ignore.

"I would see it tripled...think of the homage that people would pay for the blessing of simply your attention...you would be unstoppable..."

[ L.K ]   “Un...stoppable.”.

He said as his voice was caught in his throat. Her lips so soft, her gaze piercing and causing him to grow weak in his knees.

“Triple...”

“And you.”. He said shaking his newly focused mind.

“I want you. Your hand. In marriage..”. He stumbled and shook his head again.

“I am already wed..no uh...as my Mistress then! Yes I want you. And... triple, and I want the deed to Dawnseekers estate!”

[ S.K ]   “All these wants will need fuel..."

A play nip was given to the mans hand as Siida pulled back just enough to be teasing.

"I need help getting my brother freed and as for Dawnseeker....I would see him turned to ash so the estate will be yours to do with as you see fit.”

[ L.K ]   Sunwood seemed almost in her grasp when the sudden interruption of the butler would break the mood as he announced another unexpected guest.

“The Magister Evesblood to see you sir.”.

The same Magister that Zalra and Siida were to go after with Marseille when this was done.

Sunwood shook his head as he broke from her spell and needed to hide his shame by wrapping a towel around his waist. Siida was doing unexpected things.

“P-pardon me a moment...”

[ S.K ]   "Of course Mast...I mean Magister Sunwood..."

She had let the slip nearly happen, knowing full well that it would not help with his...unexpected visitor. She watched the man go as she turned to look at Marseille and Zalra, they could see the livid fury bubbling beneath the surface.

[ L.K ]   The two magisters would take a moment to speak in private which would give the trio their time alone.

“Perhaps you are overplayed Little Sister...if this mans loyalty can be bought so easily is he truly an ally we want?”. Marseille questioned looking to her for an answer. “Is he not more dangerous left alive?”

[ S.K ]   “Once we get Lazarius back, he won't live through the night."

She spoke with a smile as she longed for a bath to clean the filth from her body.

"Ill need three baths to get this stench from me. . .Hands like a groping squid.”

[ Z.A ]   Zalra hummed thoughtfully to herself as she desperately wanted to shower after witnessing the man's grimy display. Damn, seemed Siida and the huntress were on the same page then. More easily understood for the youngest Kash'ebahl to be the most disgusted out of the three, obviously.

"He has loose lips that is for sure..." she pondered aloud, hearing the other magister that came to visit.

"That will not go well for us if he speaks..prematurely..."

[ L.K ]   “I will see to it that my camp is prepared to offer you just that, Little Sister.”. Marseille would nod and go back to being silent.

Sunwood returned not a moment later, Evesblood with him.

“This was the girl I spoke to you about Magister. Perhaps the three of us could continue this in my stateroom?”

Evesblood was far worse and far more vile than this man, and he smiled wickedly at the thought of pulling Siida into a room alone.

“If we are to discuss business it must be...out of the open air.” seethes the new man.

“Why don’t we retire...yes?”. Sunwood placed his arm around Siida and drew her in close, he was greasy, gross from tanning oils

“Your servants can remain here and enjoy themselves...as I am sure we all will...”

[ Z.A ]   Now it was becoming a struggled to not lash out to get Siida away from these filthy men. It took every ounce of strength in her disguised form to remain...stoic.

Her fel-burning eyes, gave Marseille an unnoticeable glance; silently begging him to just...nod and settle her down. Or something.

[ L.K ]   He was also trying, standing beside the Huntress, she would feel the warm fingers of the hidden Shaldorei grip her own, was he holding her hand? He squeezed them softly.

[ S.K ]   Siida smiled softly, greeting the new man with the same smile as she glanced back to her companions.

"They are my companions...I would never belittle them with such a title."

She tried to be clear in a way that only Nestor and Kyori would recognize.

"I will go and speak with these two men on behalf of our house...stay here and enjoy Magister Sunwood's hospitality..I won't be long."

She would start to walk with them a little...reaching out with her mind to Zalra.

“We could make this work, I won't be made into a toy...if I'm not back in ten minutes...start the assault.”

[ L.K ]   Marseille on the other hand was not privy to such talks. His own thoughts were silent, as was the hidden mind of the arcanist. The drawback of his species. Though as Siida began walking off he would look to Zalra for the same security, what was she doing? He wanted to scream.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra squeezed his hand back with a renewed sense of comfort and appreciated the hidden Shal'dorei's choice in actions. That was until Siida agreed to meet these two men alone. No. She tried not to visibly shudder when she heard the young Kash'ebahl's voice within her skull; it did not help.

Immediately, she reached back out before Siida might silence the connection.

“Siida, pardon my Common, but are you fucking nuts?'

The huntress gave Marseille's fingers another squeeze, mouthing unseen,

"Do we stop her?."

But, they did have their orders.

[ L.K ]   The two magisters so disgustingly began leading the youthful girl toward the bungalow doors. They had every intention of taking her upstairs, and they were going to do just that. They’d lead her up into the master bedroom and lock the door behind them. Once there, the tone became much more dark.

“You are a crafty little minx aren’t you?”. Evesblood hissed softly.

“Trying to convince us to drop our alliance with Dawnseeker? Draw us out? Sunwood may be a coward and a pervert but I will not suffer such insults from the bitch of a dying house.”.

Evesblood went to go smack her across the face but his hand was held back. Sunwood clasped his hand around his wrist.

“No...”. He snarled. “You will not strike her beautiful face...”

Both men were staring at one another then looking back at her.

“You are going to let her dictate what we earned? So what her brother is captured. We will still reap the benefits!”  Evesblood hissed out again at the portly man.

[ S.K ]   “ I know this is foolish...but you must let your enemies believe they have the upper hand..in a small space I am much more effective... “

Siida shot back to the huntress who was waiting and as she focused on the task at hand, she was taken into the room.

"If you dislike my methods...perhaps you should take stalk of your own...now are we going to talk business...or shall I show myself out?"

She was silently grateful for Sunwood having stopped the strike.

[ L.K ]   The look from both of the men was beyond savory. Sunwood wanted to have his way with her and it seemed Evesblood was more than inclined to agree.

“Why don’t we turn her in?”. Said the new Magister.

Sunwood turned to look back at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well Dawnseeker has her brother...I’m sure she will fetch a much better price?”. Evesblood walked over toward her and swung behind her. He would smile as he looked down over her head and back at Sunwood.

“Dawnseeker has always rewarded bravery and loyalty...turn her in and we will gain fortune and fame...”. He said still looking to Sunwood.

“Y..yes, and then we will look strong.”. The mood slowly began to change as the two man now came in closer. “I want to taste her first...” And here we were back at the creepy gross pervert again.

Elsewhere Marseille waited beside Zalra. “I do not like this...”

[ S.K ]   Siida grit her jaw as she tried to keep both men in sight, Evesblood was not making that task easy.

"Do not listen to him...what does he have to lose by turning you against me?"

Siida asked, she could feel herself losing control.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra reopened her eyes, furrowing her brow at the shade.

"She feels she can handle this better this way," she whispered under her breath.

How many minutes had passed out of the ten that they were allotted? She was getting antsy and fearful for the girl; being in similar situations herself in the past.

"We attack when time is up." Did she sound confident about the young Kash'ebahl's plan?  Of course not, but it was clear that she would follow it.

[ L.K ]   Eight minutes left, Evesblood quickly grabbed hold of her waist and wrapped his hands around her.

“You are trying to vex him...”. He shoved her at Sunwood and seethed. “..do not listen to her ... she is yours... take her, have your fun and let us quadruple our earnings!”

“Quadruple...”. Sunwood said as he felt the little Kashebahl fall into him, his greasy, grubby mitts pawing at her. “...Yes...I take you...and no...yes...” -

Evesblood snarled and chattered again. “Do it...you know what we must do... don’t let her pull you away, she is the enemy...” he hissed to the other Magister.

“You are the enemy....”  the slightly bewildered Sunwood murmured.

[ S.K ]   “I am not your enemy...if I were I would have come here with the forces to take what I needed, I pleaded you and came in good faith...what would you do to protect your family?"

This pleading was a touch more sincere.

"Help me...I do not want to be what this man paints me as!”

[ L.K ]   “The sympathy of men will never be triumphant when greed is granted a quarter.”. Marseille said calmly as he watched the party continuing on.

Sunwood suddenly turned and throw Siida down to the floor. He was beginning to pull the towel away.

From the back Evesblood was holding a small doll in his hand, squeezing it tightly as he watched the scene unveiling. “Yes...make her submit. . .she is your prey...she is yours, claim her and we shall prevail.”

[ S.K ]   "I.am.not.prey!" Siida hissed as her eyes lost that dewy colored green color, flooding with the color of pitch and midnight.

She reached out and slashed at the air, aiming to strike Evesblood as hard as she could with a tendril of the void.

“Now! “

Came Siida's voice into Zalra's mind, panic evident.

[ Z.A ]   "Ten minutes is up." She snarled, turning her attention to the nearest guard. This huntress was going to tear her way to Siida like a shark hooked on blood; pray for the ones who get in her way.

[ L.K ]   “Go to her.”. Marseille said as he suddenly rushed into the fray, his first target was the very same guard Zalra had imprinted on.  A knife placed carefully through his jugular, he’d fallen silently into the little makeshift gazebo tent; bleeding into his hands without a sound. 

He then raced out, heading to  where two men were having their way with a few of the sin’dorei entertainment women in the heated bathing vessel.

“*I will handle the perimeter!”

The nude men would receive a strange sensation when a few more of his knives were plunged into their throats and jugulars, like precise bullets they flew through the air, the speed and accuracy of a very methodical man. 

This was the beginning of the assault and the women who were now covered in blood were stunned as the silent Shal’dorei knelt beside the pool and whispered

“Run...”

Upstairs the void tendril was caught completely off guard. Evesblood dropped the doll and would suddenly fall to the ground after being slammed into the wall nearby.

The dazed Sunwood suddenly came back from his trance, he blinked several times and noticed where he was, what she was ... he screamed like a small child and ran toward the closet, he would be met with the door not opening and slamming into it, knocking himself out. 

“You stupid bitch!” hissed Evesblood as he rose and snarled at her.

He was holding just a small bit of her hair that he’d gotten from her when standing close.

“Suffer and burn!”. - He would cause a small bit of fire to pool in his hand, the voodoo practicing elf watched her begin to feel the heat on her flesh.

[ S.K ]   The growl that left Siida was far from form as she started to pick herself, her jaw gritted against the pain of as the flame licked at the source of his connection to her.

"I will not be called that and you will not use your perverse magic to harm anyone else!"

Closing her eyes, Siida tried to embrace the heat to focus her mind upon the Magister and sprang forward, focusing her void energies to collect at the tip of her fingers like a punching blade, aiming for the mans heart. If the strike was true...it was not to kill, but she would begin to leech void into his being, ravaging his mind, seeking answers.

[ Z.A ]   Marseille barely had time to let his words bubble past his lips before Zalra was already rushing forward; following the path she remembered watching the noblemen lead Siida.

A few confused guards managed to catch up to the situation at hand, however, they clearly did not think fast enough to elude the huntress. With their weapons barely drawn, one guard would find his chest cavity caving in with the powerful strike of a void-weighed spear. The other? Well, in just moments after disposing of the one, Zalra swung her spear around and sliced him across the gut; the spear acting like the piercing weapon it was designed to be, now free from the manipulation of mass.

And off she continued with hardly any hesitation in her step. Void began to lick at her skin in response to the seething anger welling up within the huntress A million possible scenarios were buzzing through her mind on what the young one could be caught up in, and only a few gave Siida much credit in her skills. Truth be told, she was ignorant of the young Kash’ebahl’s self-discoveries and was not aware of the power Siida began to find herself wielding.

Now inside the home, Zalra paused in her haste and briefly wondered where the men took Siida. That was…until the most ‘dignified’ scream was heard upstairs. Followed by a loud thud and lots of shouting. Perfect. Know what made the scene even better? Guards. A shit ton of them.

Her green gaze began to darken with the aura that wafted from her in waves; casting an image akin to void speckled vapours. With this intimidating look established in the few seconds of hesitation, Zalra stepped forward. The runes upon her large spear began to hum an odd hue, simultaneously lighting up with the matching runes brutally carved into her wrists. To her, the weapon felt lighter in her grip.And, on top of this, odd tendril-like chains wrapped around Zalra’s dominant arm and attached its other end to the spear itself. An odd display, for sure.

Especially considering she just simply continued towards the stairs. Anyone would get in her way would have the rounded spear whipped at them like an axe, then have the weapon yanked out of them using the chain as a tether. Ready for the next guy.

[ L.K ]   All was lost in that very instant. Siida was not in very good control of her void powers, that was evident when Lazarius had told her to stop using them all together, he had almost forbid it. Opting to embrace his sisters loving nature, he wanted to preserve it. But she was not as skilled as she could have been.

The blade did pierce the heart and the Magister who had thought he was so skilled and so talented, would be pinned to the wall, dead with the spine through him.

Marseille was outside doing what he did best, dispatching guards and holding down the fort, in addition to directing the women to safety and offering towels to those who couldn’t find decent cover, no need to be nude and scared.

Sunwood lay face down, his body unmoving, he was still unconscious.

[ S.K ]   Taking a moment to collect herself, Siida backed way, feeling the warmth of the Magister's blood running down her arm and hand. Sunwood had been in her pocket until that bastard showed up....no matter...he was still alive...for now. Looking around she found draped over the window to shred and restrain Sunwood, leaving the other poor soul pinned to the wall.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra would eventually reach the landing of the second floor, covered in a little bit and splattered blood from the slain guards. Getting to the master bedroom, the woman was not surprised to find it was locked, however, these doors weren’t built to keep people like her at bay.

Hoping there was no strange, magister curse on the wood, she dislodged the knob from its place and proceed to shoulder-check the rest of the way in No curses. Or wards. A nice bonus.

“I will cut your filthy hands--!” However, the ‘Sin’dorei’s’ words caught breathlessly in her throat.

Both magisters were otherwise…disposed of. And the Matron simply stood, coated in Evesblood…blood. A strange feeling of shame for her misjudgment of Siida churned together with absolute astonishment and pride; there was no doubt she was fond of the young Kash’ebahl’s progress.

“Oh, thank the gods you’re alive.” she finally managed to whisper, relieved as hell. “Did they hurt you? In any way?”

Oh, Zalra was ready to kill the almost nude Sunwood.

[ S.K ]   “I am fine. . . Sunwood was being controlled....his hedonism is natural but that foul Evesblood was using a form of voodoo against him...Marseille wasn't lying....I hope he won't be angry with me for killing him...." Siida looked a bit sheepish, smiling to Zalra as she approached the woman.

"Are you alright, you weren't hurt getting up here were you?”

[ Z.A ]   Zalra waved Siida's concern off with a tsk,

"No. Not that it matters much. As long as you did not fall to the risky plan."

Contemplating their actions next, she looked down to the unconscious man, bound and gagged.

"Do you think he will still be useful?" she asked, raising a brow. "Or, do you think he's already given up all he had known,"

Her eyes flickered back to Siida.

"And, the puppet master is dead."

Strolling across the threshold of the room, the Huntmaster neared the corpse of Evesblood. Like the scavenger she was for information, it was only natural to begin searching his robes for anything.

Honestly, anything. Money. Pictures. Plans. Hell, a receipt for a tailor in Silvermoon, even. What? He's dead. He doesn't need it anymore. She was hoping for some clue or piece that warranted more information to help their next steps.

[ S.K ]   “I think he could be interrogated...he's sniveling wretch of a man and seeing his cohort pinned to the wall like a butterfly under glass might loosen his lips a little...if he doesn't...well he knows the fate that is awaiting him. Till then we sack the house, take what we need or thing is useful....this is his vacation home by the looks of it....if there are children anywhere we will not harm them...anyone who simply wishes to flee without fighting...I won't hurt innocents that were simply taking advantage of the chance for easy coin.”

[ L.K ]   Marseille had entered the room at that very moment when the final part of that sentence was offered.

“Perhaps it is best to not take what we do not need...we needed information and we’ve been gifted.”.

He said moving toward them both once again in his Shaldorei form.

“I see you have dealt with the other.. and this one..”

The pink eyes scanned the Magister as he made his way toward him. Marseille would slowly lift the tied man up onto his feet and support him, only to have a piece of something in his hands at the mans nostril. It was snapped and suddenly after a sniff; Sunwood was awake and crying.

“Please please don’t hurt me! Take what you want but do not hurt me!”.

Marseille grabbed the piece of the nude mans love handle and twisted.

“Speak to my Matron with respect. I will not ask twice. Answer her every question with truth and conviction otherwise when they find your fat little body the mortuary will need to create words for the unprecedented state I leave you in.”

[ S.K ]   "Magister Sunwood....hush now, be still."

Siida's voice floated through the room so gently it almost sounded a mother speaking to her babe. It was all to set him off balance again as she knelt down beside Sunwood and stroked his hair.

"Listen to me, I do not blame you for your behavior....I understand that Silvermoon and it's courts creates such powerful money grubbing tendencies..I believe you can still be of use to me, to my family...do not make a mistake and die here uselessly."

Sitting up a little she spoke clearly.

"Tell me everything you know about Dawnseeker and what he plans to do with my brother.'

[ L.K ]   “I don’t know!”. He squealed when Marseille clamped down on his side pudge. The gross greasy man now covered in fur, lint and anything else that may have been on the floor was trying to not cry again.

“I told you all we knew was to help him with donations...if he hired mercenaries that is beyond me.”

He started to sob and blubber.

“I will...I will do anything... I will... take nothing else from your family...I will do as you ask... please just do not kill me.”

Marseille finally decided to step in and leaned up behind the man and whispered loud enough for all to hear.

“If you ever step back on your word to do anything against my Matron... her family...you will never hear me, you will never see me, you will never know when it will happen...but you ‘will’ know that I was there..”.

He paused and grabbed the man by his jowls and smushed his face as he looked at Siida to help him.

“Because Emily. .. Jarroth and Kedja... they will know. The courts will know of your human wife, and they will most certainly know about your hedonism, corruption and infidelity.  But most importantly, it will be your family. . .They will certainly know.”

The eyes of the Magister widened larger than his belly. How did they know of his family?

[ S.K ]   "He is not lying Magister...you forwardness earlier is the only reason I do not take them to be taught in our ways....and believe me, the thought was very tempting...." Siida stood up and looked around the room, furious that this had no yielded better results.

[ L.K ]   “Dawnseeker would have never told me...but he does have a delivery of wine to his estate once a month...”.

Sunwood was thrown to the ground and flat on all fours like a hound. Marseille placed his foot on his back to hold him in place.

[ S.K ]   "And from where does the wine come?" Siida asked, forming an idea in her head. They could easily have it poisoned.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra stepped from the dead Evesblood, joining Siida's side once more. Her gaze level with the other magister, before she turned to the younger Kash'ebahl with a wrapped piece of peppermint gum rolling anxiously between her fingers. It was fresh. Who wouldn't be tempted to chew out the stress.

"If not poison then an easy wagon to hitch a ride on." She suggested. "Deliver ourselves. Again. This time with the wine cart idea, I vote a stealthy exit."

[ L.K ]   “I don’t know where it comes from...but at the end of every month...there is a gathering and he has a wine tasting. It comes from all over...”. Cried the man as he tried to squirm.

[ S.K ]   "And do you go to these events Magister Sunwood?" Siida asked in that oh so sweet voice that had pulled him in before.

[ L.K ]   “I have only been invited twice...he extends the privilege to those who are new and most useful to him.”

[ S.K ]   “Then I suggest dear Sunwood that you make yourself desirable because we need you to get us into this little party.”

[ L.K ]   “We do not need him...”. Marseille said stepping off the man and moving away.

“He is useless to us now. I will leave his fate up to you but I would happily dispose of him. He is bound to turn against us. And I will be forced to end his family. If we can get into that cart and sneak into the Dawnseeker estate as a wine delivery , we can act in secret.”

[ S.K ]   "You're right...but his family is to be spared..." Siida looked away from the sniveling man. Fear was not more powerful than gold and that is appeared would be all that was needed to sway him.

"Quick...clean...that is all that I ask"

[ L.K ]   “Please! No my silence! My family! They cannot be without me?”.

Marseille would slowly pluck the sharpened tomahawk from his belt and walked toward the man

“Light be my savior! Miss Kashebahl please!”

Marseille grabbed the blonde hair of the man and yanked his head back. His neck was exposed and the blade of the axe placed to it. Marseille noticed she was not looking, and it was dawning on him what this world did to people.

“Siida Ray Kashebahl...” came the calm voice of the shade as he waited for her to turn.

“I will not allow this world to taint the only purity left...we need your compassion..we need your empathy, it gives us. . .strength in even the darkest of times...”.

Marseille shoved the Magister to the ground and replaced the blade to his back.

“You will give up this life of wanton lust...and tend to your family, tend to your own purity...or I will kill you all without a second glance. Do not confuse my actions for compassion....you have some worth yet, and what little freedom you still have we will take.  You owe her your life...and you will give it to her, and until that debt has been paid or you have lived out your usefullness. . . she shall control your fate.”.

The shade stormed out from the room, leaving his actions to be thought about by the blubbering Magister.  His final words ringing clear as he made his exit.

“The Light is not your savior, you owe that praise to our Matron.”

[ S.K ]   Marseille's action surprised Siida, she would be lying if she said otherwise. She was stunned, having to pause and take a moment after his triumphant wake passed them by.  She managed to stumble out a sentence.

"...go home to your wife, love your children...and care for them...this place no longer exists to you.  You have not seen the last of me or us for that matter."

Siida left, but not before undoing the mans bonds...she wasn't sure if any of his personal guard was left.

Once outside Siida turned her face to the sun and stood in silence for a long moment before moving to the pool and dipping her arm within to clean it of the blood that had belonged to Evesblood.

[ L.K ]   Marseille was standing by the exit waiting for them both. Only once they were prepared to leave would he speak. Until that point of being addressed he was silent.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra absentmindedly tossed the wrapped gum at the man as she followed Marseille out of the room. Such dramatic threats. What a gross spiderweb the political world was. With Siida still in her sight, she stood near the shade.

"I cannot wait to leave this scene behind us." She murmured.

[ L.K ]   “I will be content when we have left as well...” he responded softly.

[ S.K ]   "I'm sorry if I let you both down..." Siida said softly, rising up and drying off her arm, there was no sparing her gown...it was ruined.

[ L.K ]   "Let us down?" Marseille said as he looked confused, almost hurt by the statement. He peered back toward Zalra and would hope she had something to say because he was far too shocked to even begin. The only thing he managed to mumble out was.

"Little sister. . .never."

[ Z.A ]   Zalra narrowed her eyes instinctively at the younger Kash'ebahl.

"Surely you cannot mean such a ludicrous assumption." She retorted; just as shocked as Marseille was, but accidentally disguising her concern with mild frustration.

However, her expression softened when she noticed the shade peered at her with a silent plea for assistance. Oh, boy.

"Siida, you have yet to do anything I would deem disappointing." At least before Zalra's eyes, that was.

"Your actions today have put us this far. Take pride in that. What do you regret?"

[ S.K ]   "I don't know...I just....I haven't done anything like this before and that man is dead...I thought Marseille might be angry that I got there first...did you need information from him on his magics?" She started talking really quickly and looking a little flustered before she clammed up again.

[ L.K ]   "It was you and Zalra who were charged with dispatching the Magister Evesblood. Not I. The Master had sent me for Magister Sunwood prior to him being taken. It was always my intention to simply cut that thread."

Marseille would calmly move toward Siida and Zalra. He bowed before them both.

"Neither of you acted in any way that is deserving of regret or lament. . .you have brought pride and victory to our people. One step closer to our safe return, and our Inquisitors. I. . .failed you. Siida Ray Kashebahl." He said very sorrowfully as he knelt before her, hands pressed against her feet and head resting atop.

"To see you become that which you despise. To see you have to resort to that. I am not proud in knowing you were forced to use such powers. But you. . .you have given me purpose today. . ."

He continued to lean there, offering himself as her servant.

"I acted on your behalf, and it is because of your compassion for life, that I will give that man his option. Perhaps he will prove useful. In the very least, we spared a man who will aid us somehow."

[ S.K ]   Tears very nearly fell down the doll like face of the Matron...the words spoken by Zalra and Marseille meant the world to her though the Shade made himself so humble before her, Siida could help herself as she gently dropped to her knees and rested a hand upon Marseille's head.

"You did not fail me...and I am not yet what I despise. That creature used his powers to perverse Sunwoods will and tried to burn me alive with those same tactics...he could not be suffered to live."

For a moment she let her silence hang there, thinking of their next move.

"I am blessed and profoundly lucky to have you both at my side. We have our next target and the way to get in seems clear...but I will put it to a vote. Should we track the wine down now or return to the Bastille, to report in?"

[ L.K ]   Feeling the hand on his head, for once the dedicated shade was at peace. He deeply found that his cold heart was missing a very large part in the form of this young woman. It was not romantic, not even remotely close. Neither lustful or sexual, he felt almost compelled to be by her side as she was something more. Marseille pressed the crown of his head against her hand and softly thanked her for her words. It was only after asking for their council did he speak.

“The Harbinger should know our mission is complete, Dawnseeker is one of the most influential and powerful Magisters on Azeroth...rushing this would be a fools gamble...especially since we have a months time to prepare for his next shipment.”

[ S.K ]   "I am of the same mind...what do you think Zalra?" Siida would rise and urged Marseille to do the same. She could feel something from the Shal'dorei that seemed different, but in a good way.

[ L.K ]   He did as she asked and rose, pink eyes shifting toward Zalra as he was curious of her stance as well on the matter.

[ Z.A ]   Zalra was also in the same mindset of the shade's. Her strong feelings for the woman where ones dancing on the limits of a friend of course, but also on a protector; nothing romantic or lustful, for further clarification. She just felt herself enjoying being at Siida's side. The huntress and her preferred ward.

"I agree. We will report our findings to the Harbinger and learn of the others' progress." She paused, "A month's time..." It pained her to hear that. Very visably.

[ S.K ]   "Then we will return to the Bastille and report what we've found and make plans for a months time...we will see this done...we've done my brother and our order proud this day."

Siida would look to her charm that connected her to the Bastille and began to activate it, it was time to go home.

[ L.K ]   Marseille would wait for both Zalra and Siida to walk through the gateway into the Bastille. He stood there holding the door open and looking back toward the bungalow. As the final seconds of their time in Stranglethorn came to an end, the shade would reach over and grab the standing torch that was being fed by a small well of oil. An absent minded shove.

“Oops.”. came the voice of the mysterious Shaldorei in his ever monotone voice.

He said stepping into the Bastille as the flame hit a trail he’d made before going in to help Siida. Whether Sunwood escaped would be up to how fast he could run. But Marseille wanted to ensure that nobody would use this place ever again.  And after the flames had cleansed it of the bodies and disgusting memories of its intentional purpose, the jungles of Stranglethorn with swallow it up and reclaim it once more, and thus the hidden grotto faded from memory forever.

@whatadarkbitch​

@zalraazurestar​

@siidaraykashebahl​

@pyravari-kashebahl​

@thebladeitself​

@lady-dawnblood​

@daltalah

[rambleverse]

The gate shut behind them, and all was dark.

“You should have let me die.” he thought to himself, watching the Sunguard’s few straggling forces disperse to the most precious positions within the Dawnspire. What was left of their leadership spoke in hurried whispers before the command called out: the enlisted masses would hold Baal and his kind with what numbers they had. The rest of the Sunguard were to descend below.

“But to where, and protecting what?” he thought to himself. The battle was lost, the Legion could not be turned from the inside of a single citadel-not after they had so cleanly cut Truefeather’s support to the tower. Ouron looked to the vaulted chambers, the elegant heraldries, the finery of Thalassian make that surrounded him.

There were worse places to die, but die they would.

The descent shot stabbing arcs of pain through his feet that ricocheted inside the back of his skull. The blood in his face simmered just below the skin as the effort in walking the path before him drew acid from the fibers of his muscles. The Sunguard moved without him-there was no time for courtesies to the elderly, and he did not blame them. Outside of his construct he was nothing. Not a tradesman, not a mage, just another burden. His last act would be to relieve himself from their worries in this final hour. All that drew him further was the last nagging curiosity, the curse of a life of scholarly pursuit, to see what lay beneath the Dawnspire.

When at last he rejoined his comrades, The Phoenix Heart met him like an open furnace. The raw power of it-the composition of its myriad parts-all churned together in a massive font of mingled power. Arcane, Light, and life itself drew into and out of the Truefeather’s secret well, manifesting in a sum far beyond their parts. Ouron reached a fumbling hook of a hand into his robe pocket, drawing out his gem-lensed spectacles. With eyes primed to observe, and a body starving for mana, he opened himself to the marvel before him.

Where the Sunwell sang in a low, comforting note that carried clear across the Kingdom, this font sang in a chorus of infinite beautiful voices of every size and color. Its voice rang through him over and over again, lacquering mood after joyous mood over his shrunken soul. It bolstered him, nourished him in ways he long since forgot. It filled his mind with flames in oranges, violets, blues and greens that burned away his faults and fears in joyous absolution. It was a new source unto itself. A marvel of magic he never thought possible. An experience hitherto reserved for poets and painters. The tree flashed in his mind.

“-Sunguard! Sons and daughters of Quel'Thalas! Members of the Horde! I ask of you to join with me in one last battle. One last stand! Fight to your last breath! Fight till there is nothing left! Fight through the darkness and bring about the new dawn! We will not fall, we-” The archon’s words tore him from his ecstasy, clawing his horrid calculating mind to the front of his consciousness.

Despair cut through him. He felt his heart drop into what remained of his stomach as the thoughts turned in his head. After seven thousand years he held the answer to mortality, and all the beautiful possibilities it held, only for the Legion to crush them both. Heat sapped out of his limbs, and he shook there silently as elves around him rallied to their posts. He felt his hand grip his staff, watched the cobblestones pass under his robe as he moved, winced as sickly green light overtook the edges of his vision, but Ouron Nethermoon was gone.

The battle likely was a glorious one. One desperate faction holding on to all it had left; another driven to consume and destroy with the confidence only unstoppable might could provide. All Ouron could do was stare.

Think.

I will not die to demon hands. I will not burn in their fires, beg for their mercies, submit at last to their awful powers. They would not take me, a wretch. A less than serviceable sore that exists only to be noticed. Not even the Legion would have me-and still I will deny them. I have not walked this world, scoured its knowledge, coughed in bitter defeat and cried tears to let them take me.

It is so beautiful. WHY. it is so beautiful. WHY DID THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN NOW. Could have done so much more. I COULD HAVE DONE SO MUCH MORE. I WAS WORTH MORE THAN THIS. No, you spent your life exactly how you deserved it. No. I’m not dead yet. You should be. I’m not dead yet. Oh yes you are. Seventhousand-seven thousand years and naught but pain look at how they fight they live they love they die these people are better than you they’re better than you Ouron all you’re doing is standing here STARING. STARING. USELESS. DO SOMETHING. I can’t.

I can’t.

You can’t.

The marble basin emerged behind his back, crack. He stared at their boots. The two young elves, one nearly crying, another near to dying. He leapt-and Ouron watched through his gemstone lenses as one elf ceased to exist. The arcane laws that made him young, strong, solid, mortal were undone.

The heat felt like he was pressing his cheek to hot iron, he felt what was left of his hair singe at the tips, smelled stone sear into ash. His eyes swelled with blood, felt like they were being plucked by talons sharp and cruel-and yet his stared. When all went white he stared, when all went dark he stared. When the crying started he stared.

[pendragonfics]

Room For Improvement

Paring: Thranduil/Reader

Tags: female reader, set before The Hobbit, Reader is an elf, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, books, reading, play fighting, swords. 

Summary: Reader is a noble she-elf from Rivendell and after an arranged marriage to the King of Mirkwood, and a year living with the forest elves, Thranduil finds that his wife is not much of a fighter, and takes it upon himself to teach his bride to defend herself, forbid anything happened.

Word Count: 2,535

Current Date: 2017-07-24

Unlike most people who dreamed stories and were doomed never to live amongst the fancies and ploys on the paper, you had the pleasure. As a noble elf from Rivendell, the elder cousin of Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond, you were destined to become something of yourself. But while your mind was reading stories of adventure to faraway lands and cultures, the story your life had turned into something more…traditional, for your gender. Marriage. The news came to no shock to you, as you were always to be married off, but to whom? Your heart had almost stopped upon hearing the news.

“You are to marry King Thranduil, son of the late King Orophor,” the message-elf of your father had told you. Perhaps it was for the better your own father did not break the news himself, or he would have had a slipper thrown at him.

You had nodded, and thanked the messenger, and moved to the balcony to ruminate over the news. You could almost hear the people you called friends gossiping when they heard the news of your arranged marriage. The King? Of Mirkwood? How inane a match for ________! As if they doubted a scholarly-minded Elf such as yourself could soar that high, to be considered for the man who had lost his father so recently on the battlefield.

Slowly, you moved to the balcony balustrade, and sinking your head upon your hands on the railing, looked out upon the citadel of Rivendell where you lived, lost in the myriad of thoughts that followed the word passed to you. But lost in your thoughts, you did not notice that your cousin, and confidant, the Lady of Rivendell. But to you, she would always be Arwen, whom you had shared the splash pools of the forest with as children.

“What plagues your mind, ________?” Arwen’s voice came to you, and turning, you saw your cousin. Her brush in hand, she worked on her hair, slowly uncoiling the tangles that followed horseback riding. “You look troubled.”

You nod, agreeing with her wording, “I have just been told I am to wed,” you confess, moving to sit beside her on the chaise. She hands you her brush, and taking it in your hands, you take it upon yourself to detangle your cousin’s hair, and the judgements in your mind.

“Is it the news itself that troubles you, or the match made for you?” Arwen asks. She’s always so eloquent, and wise beyond the years she has spent on this world.

You shrug. “I have always known I was to be married off, Arwen,” you remind her softly, your fingers working around a particularly hard knot on her dark mane.

You think back of when you were children, playing in the halls of the palace. While you had stayed focused on your books, sharpening your mind, she had caught sight of Aragorn, and pledged her love and allegiance before your parents had ever thought their children could fall in love, or fall into a tactical place for love to come later. Perhaps because Arwen was promised, the elite who hid away in their council hall had decided you were the next best noble-blooded She-Elf to be wed away to strengthen allies.

“But what of the match? You have not spoken word of it, ________; I know you, and your sharp tongue well. Are you ashamed?” She implores, pushing for the news to be spilt.

You pause at your brushing. Ashamed? No. Perhaps you are too humble, having spent so long by true nobility’s side, to see that you are worthy of this match, this opportunity. You take time to think of a reply, but Arwen beats you to your answer.

“I think you should trust the judgement of our fathers,” she confides to you, “They could have matched you with the youngest son of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien,” she reminds you. “Have faith in the Ilúvatar.”

You shake your head. “My faith is unwavering, cousin, and I do not doubt the judgement of the gentry who arranged this. I – I am to be married to King Thranduil, of Mirkwood,” you confess, the words overflowing from your mouth like sap from a wounded tree. “Arwen, I will be so far from you, from home,” you whisper.

She turns, facing you on the chaise, her light eyes full of starlight. “And so close to your fate,” she reminds you, and running a hand through her hair, smiles at the lack of knots. “Thank you, ________ … fear not. I will not forget you.”

---

Forgetting one another was not a problem, neither was the marriage. Not a year after the news broke, you were wedded, and lived away in the forest from the Elves you called family. You had come to love your husband, Thranduil, and the people he ruled over in the forest lands where the stars shone so brightly through the blanket of the night. You loved how over time, the king had showed you compassion, and open arms and a larger library than you had ever seen before in your life.

While he was in council meetings to dispel rebels, and consolidate the peace his father had died for, you were away reading as usual, filling your head with the works of the legendary Elves, the long-dead Men, the poetry written down from the faraway Hobbits, reading ballads translated from the Khuzdul of Dwarves. Yes, you appeared when you needed to beside your husband, and yes, you slept when the bed required warming at his side in the sheets, but the library – it called to you loudest.

But on an evening when the stars were bright enough to chart, the moon high, you did not return to the chambers. Instead, you slept at the scholars’ desk, the open parchment smelling so sweetly that it had lulled your mind to slumber. While it was an occurrence that was normal to yourself, having done this many a time in your life, your husband hadn’t known of this practice. It was how you woke to a royal guard calling your name, a hand shaking your shoulder, your husband in the doorway, a relieved look upon his face.

Later that night in your shared chambers, though, it was more of an ordeal. “You mustn’t read past sundown,” Thranduil instructed you, his cold blue eyes fusing a look that could melt steel into your gaze. “And once eaten for the night, return to the chambers.”

“Thranduil,” you scoff, “is that not heavy-handedness?”

He shakes his head, his long hair wavering in the moonlight, turning from your gaze. “It is not, when the kingdom of Mirkwood could have daggers for their new Queen’s heart, waiting. ________, not all are content. You could have been, for all I knew, dead.”

“You thought me dead?” you huff, your eyes wide, “I – I was-am not dead, just reading!” you implore, and stalking to your husband, force him to look you in the eye. “If I am not allowed to fill my mind, it might shrivel up, reduce itself to nothing at all!” You are adamant. “I cannot believe you are so hard-headed upon my only pleasure, Thranduil.”

For a minute, the pair of you are at a stand-still, an impasse. You do not back down; you will not back down on this fight, would never. Whilst over Elves danced and sang, played instruments, had their trades, you had your books, and your hungry mind, devouring everything and anything it could lay its hands on. It was the only thing that kept you sane, in this new land; perhaps, it kept you thinking that you were still and elfling at the bosom of your mother, back in the lands of Rivendell with Arwen not too far away. Slowly, Thranduil nodded, and taking his hand in yours, hummed.

“I would never want to harm your mind, ________, but you must know that there could be threats to us, beyond our control.” He begins, his other hand moving to stroke your cheek slowly, his forehead bowing to touch against your own. “I propose an overture.”

“Yes?” you cock an eyebrow, and clicking your tongue in annoyance, utter, “I am listening, husband mine.”

“You may read as long into the night as you wish to, and for as many a night, too. But there is a clause to this.” Thranduil tells you. “For three hours a day, you will train with the best soldiers and myself, to defend yourself should any attack come unto you.” He instructs.

Silently, you nod. “Starting tomorrow?”

Your husband agrees. “Yes, at midday. Do not tarry, or the library shall be locked to you.”

“Of course,” you huff, unperturbed by his idle threat. At this, you begin to change into your bedclothes, not allowing your eyes to break contact with your husbands as you undress. “But know you are overreacting, Thranduil. I am perfectly capable of keeping myself safe.”

“We shall see,” he replies, and snuffs out the candle by the bedside.

---

The next morning, you rose early, and dressing in clothes made for exercise (an event which certainly was not a favoured pastime of yours), you called a palace servant to aid you in tying your hair up and away for the training. You had woken so early, you did not take breakfast beside your husband in bed, nor watched him wake slowly in the sheets beside you. While he was doing such things, you were finding your way to the armoury, and suiting up for the training.

“My Queen,” A Sindarian soldier saluted upon your entry to the armoury, standing stock-still as a statute as your eyes perused the room full of weaponry and bodily protection, “I knew not of your arrival here,” he added, glancing to the otherwise clean room, except for the stray cobwebs that grew upon the uppermost of the vaulted ceilings.

You nodded at his words, “At ease,” you waved at the soldier to not stay at attention in your presence. “I am required by my husband to start a training session with himself. Would there be any sort of…protection to wear for an elf such as myself?” you ask him.

The soldier’s head bobbed at that. “Yes, my Queen. If you shall wish, I can have it brought to you to be fitted?” He asked.

“Yes, please,” you smile.

Not too long after, you are fitted into armour that covers your chest and legs, with leather circlets to protect your arms. Unlike the soldiers who wear chainmail, you look the part of somewhat of a novice, wearing training clothes, or perhaps a babe pretending to dress like the hero the firelight stories told of. But unpersuaded, you are ready to try to do your best with your (non-existent) fighting skills.

It was a good thing you woke before your husband; because only now dressed in the armour, he comes into the room, wearing his, looking like the Gods themselves.

“Are you ready?” He asks you.

You nod. “I believe so.”

Together, you walked to the courtyard, where you had once seen the soldiers training before. This day, it was well-lit, warmed by the rays of the summer sun, much like your childhood home. But now was not a time to be nostalgic. You were here to fight for your right to read the way you had always read. And your husband was a seasoned warrior, ready to teach you the ways of the battlefield that he had known since he was an elfling.

The soldier handed you a sword; you had never held a weapon before in your life, save for a bow in a mausoleum you had broken into on a dare as a child. The sword was heavier than any book you had ever held, and taking it in both hands, you held it at your side, pointed away from yourself.

"You need to defend yourself," Thranduil held his sword like it weighed of nothing but air, pointed toward you. Your mind was buzzing, but most of all, wondering how you were to defend yourself if you knew nothing of how it was to be done. "Then, defend."

Taking your sword, you move toward your husband, the blade moved widely as if a staff coming horizontal to his side. It is as sloppy as it is slow, and he defends your attack before you are even done the move. The sword flies from your hand, your wrist smarting from the jerk.

“Do you require me…?” The soldier asked your husband.

Thranduil shook his head. “No. Thank you, Gwaenor.” As you ducked to take sword from the pavement of the courtyard, Thranduil’s sword pointed at your jugular. It was hardly fair, but you opted to not make a remark on it. Your sharp tongue had gotten you into this mess, and it would not get you out of it. “Do you wish to read your books again?” he taunted. “Prove you can defend yourself.

Pushing the sword from your neck, you stand, your blade heavy in your hands. “Taunting, are we?” you narrow your eyes. “Possibly I would be better suited to a different sword, which I could handle with ease? Or maybe, you could decide to not teach me within a day, and expect progress.” At this, you had your sword up, slashed at his own blade.

Thranduil’s eyes were wide at your move, and as he went to parry, you blocked, the sword heavily held across your body to shield his move from touching you. It was just like you had seen the Elves practicing, in Rivendell; almost like a dance. By the time you had moved the sword, Thranduil moved forward, his blade dangerously close to your side. You knew he did not want to harm you, not his Queen, but the people he insisted would harm you would not hold back. Sidestepping, your feet receded from his reach, and by the time he had reacted, the force of your swing disarmed him, and yourself, the swords clattering to the pavement. The swing from your sword did not end there; no – it led to your feet falling over one another, and your body falling onto your husbands.

Together, you fell to the ground, the clanking of his and your armour filling your ears, your chest hitting his, your hair falling onto his face, your faces as close as they could be in the confines of the privacy of the royal bedchambers. Unlike any other times you had seen his face, though, it was flushed red with exertion, his eyes bright and searching yours as to why the pair of you here horizontal upon the pavement.

“________,” he whispered.

You laughed. “Room for improvement?” you asked him.

Thranduil nodded. “Most definitely,” he murmured, his eyes bright and beautiful.

“That’s good,” you smile. Perhaps it was the blood rushing through your brain, or the sight of your husband, the King of Mirkwood, leader of the army, the man behind most of the tactics of the woodland elves beneath your body, you were not sure, but slowly, you leant toward his lips, kissing them softly. “Then we can do this more often.”

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 14: Nice Sociable Folk

Everyone is very nice to us, except one grumpy guy.

This one fought me, folks. And Quarantine Depression didn’t really help. So it’s a bit less pared-down than it could be. But speaking of people who should probably be quarantined, have some virulent fungus.

We return to the scene: Valeria has just unceremoniously yanked a mandrake root out of the ground, and it’s doing what mandrakes do, screaming at the top of its lungs (...do plants have lungs???) and raising hell. Which is not GREAT if you’re in the middle of the Spooky Woods Where Monsters Live.

We’re reckless idiots, but that’s on brand.

Shoshana rolls a Nature check to know it’ll stop screaming on its own eventually, and that getting it into our Haversack will stop or dull the noise. Otherwise, the recommended mandrake-harvesting technique is that extreme heat or cold will stun its screaming. Usually people harvest them with daggers heated over a flame.

Problem: Shoshana is only one who knows this, Clem and Val are stunned, and it’s LOUD, so it’s hard to talk. So it’s up to the sorcerer to handle it. She doesn’t want to burn the dang thing to a crisp and make it useless as a spell component, so blasting it with magic is right out. She snatches a torch out of Clem’s backpack and lights it, heating up her small dagger.

Clem fails to shake off the stun, but Valeria recovers. Gral throws an inspiration at Clem, who’s still stuck, and frantically glances around the area to see if the BIG LOUD NOISE has alerted any enemies. In fact, it very much has. A variety of heavy shapes are uprooting themselves out of the dirt, turning blank mossy faces towards us. 

Shosha tries to hurry up on silencing the mandrake, but her haste causes her to fumble it. At least she doesn’t damage the plant.

Gral, still watching, sees the grassy, lumpy creatures pick up rocks and start hurling them. Shoshana gets bonked. A rock bounces off Valeria’s armor. Gral’s looking at those ones, when another one hefts out of the ground behind him and conks him with a big ol’ stone.

“Ah,” Valeria observes. “Yeetroots.”

Clem, even with inspiration, still fails to unstun herself, clutching her hands to her sensitive elven ears.

Gral swings his sickle into a yeetroot’s rooty, tuberous body, a thick sap dripping from the gaping wound. Meanwhile, Shoshana takes a second stab with her hot dagger and manages to silence the awful screaming.

The one Gral bloodied picks him up entirely and yeets him at Clem. Gral bounces off the drow’s armor comically. Clem remains completely undamaged while Gral pouts at being unwillingly Fastball Specialed. Valeria and Shoshana scatter, dodging another volley of heavy rocks.

Taking an entire orc to the face, though, finally breaks Clem out of the stun. She’s ready to lumberjack down some trees - oh, wait, Gral’s lying there moaning. The battle medic gives him a good slather of Space Mayo, and he’s fine, though he probably smells like a sandwich.

Gral and Shoshana pop off a couple of spells for minor effect, the tuberous creatures shrugging off most of the effects. They’re bothered enough to retaliate, though; the one Valeria’s facing off against hefts her into the air for another round of PC Bowling, flattening Shoshana. The hail of rocks from the rest of the Yeetroots doesn’t let up, but their aim is only mediocre.

Aethis snacks on a root-person Valeria nicely carves up for them, and as Clem gets to slicing and dicing it looks like the fight’s falling in our favor.

Suddenly, a short human guy in rough clothing charges ungracefully out of the woods, crossing through the undergrowth strangely quickly for someone so unathletic-looking. He clonks a Yeetroot over the head with a long wooden staff, whacking it a few times for good measure so it stays down, and then looks up at us with a frustrated expression. “What the hell are you kids doing? Get out of here!” he shouts irritably, like we’re trespassing on his lawn. 

He’s got a bit of an accent. It’s much heavier than Shoshana’s; even by her small-town standards it’s the rural accent of someone who speaks Old Valdian regularly.

Gral Dissonant Whispers a Yeetroot, causing it to run past Clem and the Old Dude. It runs straight into Clem’s sword and dies. Shoshana, Valeria, and Aethis efficiently dismantle the last one standing.

Clem’s ears, still sore from the mandrake’s cry, pick up additional movement through the woods. Sounds like the Yeetroots weren’t the only ones interested in loud, clumsy prey.

The old man seems to know it too, and he starts to scold us. “Pulling a mandrake while the woods are like this? Dummkopfen! Now get outta here! Scram!”

“I’m sorry, we didn’t have a choice-“

“What are you doin’ yakkin’? MOVE!” he shouts, turning and dashing into the underbrush. Shoshana barely catches him muttering “those IDIOTS” in Old Valdian as he scrams.

Well, we’re definitely not gonna stick around either. Old Dude went northeast. The Sturmhearst camp is to the south. We’re all thinking this weird crotchety old man is a druid, so he’s gonna know the best way to go and also we could totally ask him a few burning questions. With a concise nod to each other, we dash after the druid, Valeria swinging herself up onto Aethis’ back.

The wooooooooods are aliiiiiiiive, with the sound of monsterrrrrs, but following the druid’s trail we manage to dodge down an old gully and manage to shake any of them who came to investigate the commotion. Unfortunately, we’ve just put all those monsters in between us and the Sturmhearst camp. We pause, crouched in creek bed, as the last walking tree’s footfalls fade into the distance.

Gral breaks the silence: “…wait, was that a druid?”

Shoshana grumps. “How are we gonna FIND him? He could be a SQUIRREL by now! And I’m surprised he even speaks city-folk Valdian.”

We got the sense of how he moved – he hasn’t left a footprint, but we’ve picked up his pattern a bit. We could keep following him, and Valeria suggests the quest will give time for the monsters attracted by our noise to disperse. Gral doesn’t want to pass up the opportunity to find out what the Druids know about the Prisoners, and Valeria’s hopeful he might have seen the other Order of the Rose knight about.

Shoshana beefs her Survival check. We’ve been doing well following his pattern of not disturbing plant or animal tracks, trying to think like a druid wood. But we hit a dead end.

And then Clem casually points out some tracks none of the rest of us can even make out.

Please. Clem Haxan has tracked wood elf partisans. One aging human is nothing.

We follow Clem’s lead for about an hour. As midday approaches, we notice the sense of vibrant, chaotic, suffocating life is fading a little, and the sickening-sweet scent of flowers and spores has lessened. We come upon a grove of trees, standing tall, centered around one utterly massive tree in the middle whose canopy is just barely open enough to allow beams of light to spear through. In every beam, a sapling has begun to grow. Others, a little more seasoned, have grown tall and thin to push up through the great tree’s canopy.

Deeper in the grove, Shoshana can hear a voice in Old Valdian, and it’s mostly swearing.

“Dumb fuckin’ kids, I swear, first it was those meshuggenah bird mask idiots, now we got - what the hell were those morons doing, stirring everything up? Hard enough when the woods are just tryin’ to kill ME without having to keep an eye our for-”

It seems to be a one-sided conversation. Rambling, but pausing for responses that we can’t hear. Shoshana cautiously steps closer.

She wants to be respectful, but the closest thing Old Valdian has to deferential is a greeting without commentary. “...Hello?”

The voice pauses, and then speaks to its silent companion. “Do ya hear something? Go check it out.”

We all roll real bad Perception. Gral is starin’ real hard, and he only sees a squirrel loop the big tree. We don’t hear the druid say anything else.

She tries a Message cantrip: “We wish to respect your solitude, but we need to speak with you.” Hopefully a decent Persuasion roll will do.

“Wait. Hold up,” the voice grumbles in Old Valdian, heaving a massive sigh. “They’re idiots, they’re not gonna-” 

Something big makes a “GRAAHK” noise. 

“No, they’re not gonna go away unless I talk to them. Look, they followed me here. I knew it was unavoidable.” He calls out to us in common Valdian. “All right, come on in, no funny business.”

Being seasoned D&D players, we’re hesitant to cross the giant patch of fallen leaves, but it turns out it’s not a booby trap; it’s just what happens when you’re under a big ol’ tree. They are pleasingly crunchy and probably serve as an excellent intruder warning.

The druid isn’t pleased with our caution. “Either leave or come over here! Let’s get this over with.”

We circle the tree to find a small hut in a sunbeam, with a little garden. The old guy, looking like a hippie Danny DeVito, is sitting outside on a fallen log, prodding a small campfire with a stick as he heats a kettle over it. More notably, there is an owlbear curled up next to the fire.

“I wouldn’t get too close, he likes eatin’ fingers,” the druid grumps. “That’s why he’s called Fingers.”

“Oh! This is Aethis, and I’m Kyr Va-”

“Yeah, yeah, get to the point.”

“Are you a druid?”

“Ah, right to the point.”

We manage to stumble over a quick introduction, and that we want to ask him about the Druids’ actions against the artist’s colony in Holzog.

“So all druids know each other, huh?” He starts peeling a potato, unimpressed.

"I don’t know how druids work! There was an organized attack against cultists of the Key, at an artist's colony at Holzog Valley. Do you know of this, and are the Druids in an organized resistance against the Prisoners?"

 “Are druids an organized anything?” Shoshana snarks.

Druid DeVito rolls his eyes. “Look, mask guy. I go where I’m needed. I don’t know anything about what’s going on in Holzog. I barely know what’s going on here, I just got here!”

“You... just got here?”

“Yeah, like a month or two ago. Hard to get lay of the land when EVERYTHING’S TRYIN TA KILL YOU, not to mention it’s hard to get a handle on things when idiot adventurers are runnin’ around STIRRIN’ THINGS UP!”

Gral soldiers on. “Well, what do you know of the curse corrupting this area? We were here gathering supplies for a ritual, but it seems like there is also trouble here, what with the villagers and the trolls."

Gral is very polite, so the druid grudgingly answers. “Look, here’s how it goes. This” – he taps the tree – “is Mother Tree. It’s important, for reasons. There’s always supposed to be a druid warden here. But something happened. She’s gone now. So I heard it through the grapevine, and I got called in.”

“Was it a literal grapevine?” 

“The old bag and the windy bastard have ways of getting in touch with us, if we’re needed. They told me I gotta go here and – well, so I came. I’m tryin’ to figure out what happened to old warden, figure out what I can do to keep the place safe. It’s a lotta work! But right now I’m trying to make lunch. Because lemme tell you, this owlbear is a lot calmer than most of his type, but he WILL eat me if he gets too hungry.”

“As far as what I know about it? Half the valley got taken. Everything west of the river got overgrown. Haven’t spent much time on the other side; I don’t wanna get spotted. You see what happens when somebody gets a look at me.” He gestures dismissively to all of us. “No good deed, and all that.”

“So half the valley got overgrown. My sources tell me the other half is honestly not doin’ much better, even though it looks better on the outside. Like I said, I’m still tryin’ to get my networks up and running, which is difficult when most of my sources are working for the enemy.”

“Yeah, the villagers have fungus brain,” Shoshana tells him. “Someone who came from this village seemed to be corrupted by fungus, and was working to encourage its spread. Also, they’re bringing in a Fuckton of Trolls to Bad Herzfeld. Which, if they get fungused, is...bad.”

Valeria, meanwhile, is attempting to feed the owlbear some granola. After a moment, she elects to just toss the bag in its direction. Handfeeding an owlbear is Not Wise.

“I’ll add that to my list of problems,” the old man grumbles. “Bunch of sporebrained trolls, sporebrained villagers, plants tryna kill me…all right. How many they got so far?”

“One troll was definitely fungused, but he’s dead. There’s about 8 at the troll moot now. Their food stores look spore-free so far, but we’re going to be looking into the village more.”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t want to be corruptin’ ‘em yet, it’d tip their hand too early. Trolls are usually solitary types. With how the sporebrains work, any new arrivals would be majorly creeped out. They’d want to get a critical mass before they try to get ‘em brainwashed.”

We agree that’s probably the plan. We explain the situation in Holzog, and ask what he knows about the druids’ actions there and whether the druids are the Prisoners’ jailers.

He shrugs. “Me and mine, we don’t talk to each other much. We each got our beats to cover. It’s not like they give us a manual – we’re not super fond of writing things down. Rumor is there’s old sources – real old – that have some knowledge, but otherwise you gotta get lucky and get a visit from the bosses themselves. But they’ve never been the most reliable.”

“The...bosses? Like Baba and Gramps?” Shoshana asks, referring to the old grandmother and grandfather gods of the woods.

“Yeah, they don’t exactly come when you ring a bell. Now I don’t know what old rattlechains, or the angry lady, or the quiet guy, or the sneaky bastard are like, but the chiefs aren’t communicative at the best of times. And since this fakakta Curse thing started they’ve been harder to get a hold of. We get our orders, they keep us busy, but there ain’t much in the way of answers. I’m told to guard this place, and do my thing. The ‘Prisoners,’ or whatever? That’s new to me.

“Look, stay away from the villagers, anyone especially friendly, anyone who talks about love, togetherness, caring, all that crap. Don’t go anyplace overgrown, anyplace with too many mushrooms. Spores will get in your brain.”

“I just do what I’m told. Or infer, really, I’m not told enough to do what I’m told.

If you wanna be helpful – something’s spreading this. The Curse spreads enough on its own, but something’s deliberately spreading it around. Go hunt for whatever’s doing that. Also, I can’t find previous warden – y’know, the person whose beat this is supposed to be.

He’s mostly losing interest in us, but can’t resist one last jab. “What do you need that mandrake for anyway? Half the things you think they can do, they can’t.”

Valeria jumps at the chance to talk about her Quest. “Over in Mornheim they’re dealing with the undead sort of curse. There’s a disease in the water affecting the whole population, and we found a ritual to purify the river! It’s not the sort of magic I usually work with, but I think I can make it function with the plants that I need. I’ve got almost all of them!”

“Hmm. Whatcha missin’?”

We check our notes. “Norbert’s Wort?”

Those Sturmhearst guys might have some, if you wanna try to get it off ‘em. Or there’s a bunch of it growin’ not far from the riverbank. Lemme see this ritual of yours, I wanna make sure you’re not wastin’ your time.”

He gives it the once-over with a surprisingly appreciative eye. “Oh, huh. Rosalind’s work.” He rolls up the scroll, slaps it back into Valeria’s claws, and turns to walk out into the wood. “Get outta here. I got things to do. If you stick around, Fingers will eat ya.”

Wait.

There’s a beat, and then Shoshana starts yelling. “WAIT, ROSALIND? BECAUSE WE FOUND THIS IN THE HOUSE OF A LADY NAMED ROSALIND. AND I DIDN’T THINK YOU GUYS WERE INTO HOUSES? WAIT COME BACK SHE’S A GHOST NOWWWWWW-”

He’s gone. Dammit.

We wave goodbye to Fingers.

As we cautiously make our way out of the grove, Gral is asked to make a Charisma check. A leaf, still stuck to a small bent twig, falls from the great tree and gently helicopters down. He reaches up a hand and catches it out of the air, easily, as if it was intended to find his hand. With an excellent perception check, he glances up and sees the silhouette of a motherly face in the branches. It’s hard to spot among the rustling green canopy, but it’s looking down at us from the branches - he can almost see a wooden torso in one branch – and then the shape pulls back into the branch, moving through it like sand.

Gral experiences an internal hell yes.

Gral has received: one twig with some leaves! It has vibes. This thing is definitely special, and a gift – not from the druid, but from the Mother Tree.

It clearly has Properties, but we do not know what they are.

So, what next? Trying to get the last plant for the spell has a nonzero chance of getting us lost overnight. We could stop by the Sturmhearst annex, or check in on the trolls....wait. Dang it. This morning we told that old lady we’d stay in town overnight. And we’ve already stood up one dinner invitation this arc.

As Clem capably leads us around dangers and toward Sturmhearst, Gral stares at his twig. He can see the leaves seem to move without wind, and he slowly realizes he’s able to predict which ways Clem is gonna lead us based on which way the leaf radar blows. It seems the gift can help find safe passage in the wood!

With a good survival check, we manage to skirt all dangers and the riled-up zone. Once again we smell acrid smoke from Sturmhearst camp and pass by the impassive looking giant owl guards with their flamethrowers. We see Rita the robot chicken hop by with something in her mouth, and follow her into camp. She ignores us and bops right up into the house that contains Prof. Ulmus’ lab.

Hey, we should go check on Flynn! A student directs us to where they’ve set up their clinic in an old barn, and soon we are confronted with a steely-eyed Fiona, arms crossed, glaring at us. “Hi, we, uh-”

She is silent, as usual, but Valeria rolls a nat 20 insight and can read her face like a book. She’s mad that we didn’t come back when we said we would – we made them worry, and also left them alone in this den of academic madness.

Valeria stumbles over a sincere apology until she is interrupted by a solid barbarian hug.

The paladin takes this as her opening to gossip about our day. “We got plants! And got real lost! We slept over a troll’s place!” Fiona makes a surprised gesture. “Yeah, there’s like eight. They have HOUSES. It’s surreal?!?!?! One of them thinks he’s a doctor!”

She’s interrupted when Dr. Ulmus sticks her hand through a curtain and hands off a vial of blood. Valeria now has blood. “Take this to my lab, please.”

Valeria blinks. “O...kay?” She dutifully leaves to take the blood to the lab.

Shoshana can’t keep her mouth shut. “Uh, ma’am? ….did you not notice that wasn’t a grad student?”

“Hm?”

“You gave this to the paladin.”

“…Good. She’ll follow orders. WAIT, YOU’RE BACK!” The doctor bursts through the curtain, beak-first.

“We come bearing fungus!” Clem gives her a vial of fungus. Clem is then ordered to take this to Prof Ulmus’s lab. She does. 

So now we have two tanks in a lab. They try to flag down a grad student and make them do it . No, too bad, they’re busy. Clem is like, what if I’m enormous and intimidating? But the grad student is not impressed. “Please. Do you know what kind of horrors I’m studying? You can’t terrify me.”

Valeria is like FFFF CAN YOU PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHERE THE BLOOD GOES. But the grad student leaves.

Oh hey, that rack has vials of red stuff. She puts the blood in the blood rack.

Clem shrugs, sets the fungus on a random table, and leaves.

Back at the clinic, a pale and haggard Flynn stumbles out and leans on Fiona. “My sister was very worried,” he tells us, making a flimsy effort at his usual grandiosity. “I, of course, had total confidence in you!”

Fiona, deadpan, signs: [He cried.]

Professor Ulmus finally emerges in full. “Well, Mr. Fairgold, I’d say you’re well on your way to recovery! Practice those breathing exercises I showed you and take it easy for next few days.”

Valeria and Clem hustle back, spouting apologizes for missing dinner, because Valeria is polite and Clem is genuinely upset at missing the opportunity to pick the doctor’s brain about medicine.

“Hmm, yes, you’re back! Well, you’re all alive…” Professor Ulmus starts inspecting us, her beaked mask tilting this way and that. “…oh dear.” She prods Clem a bit. “Yes, hmm.” She briskly hands Clem some sort of compressed herb poultice. “You’ll want to eat this.” Clem immediately makes a med check. It’s some kind of medicine, I guess. Clem swallows it. It tastes super gross.

“So!” she chirps. “I look forward to hearing what you’ve learned. How was your expedition, did you find what you were looking for?”

“Most of it,” Valeria admits. “We’re still looking for Norbert’s Wort.”

“I have a bit, but it’s spoken for, I’m afraid. Anyhow, I believe a dinner was planned! It’s a good thing you didn’t show up last night, I forgot all about it. I had to do quite a lot of work on Mr. Fairgold. The fungal infestation in his lungs should be cleared up, although the treatment did leave some aftereffects. Nausea, some trouble breathing for a few days. Nothing major.”

Valeria just sort of awkwardly lifts her hand, offering Lay Ons. He waves her off, bluffing his way past her insight. Sure, he’s fiiiiiiiine.

“He was fortunate. Not the worst I’ve seen – something worse would have required a substantially more radical treatment. More invasive, too. Were any of you exposed?”

“Uhh, not to that, but to other things?” We tell her about the Snorlax bear over a plate of sandwiches.

“Yes, I’ve seen similar phenomena – a fungal colony hijacking a living creature. Unfortunately that’s where my expertise ends – I might have to discuss with my, ugh, colleague in the aberrant biology department.”

Valeria tells her about the dream mushroom feast. “So you tripped on mushrooms and hallucinated and fought some mushroom men. We’ve all been there.” The professor waves it off with disinterest. “Yes, spooky curse magic messing with your mind, I’m sure it was harrowing. And/or enlightening. But I don’t have time for spooky magics; I’m a woman of SCIENCE! Speaking of, Clementine, where did you put that fungus?”

“On a table with similar looking specimens?” 

“Pardon me a moment.” She immediately stands and runs. We see a huge guard stomp toward the lab. Then flamethrower noises. There’s a bit of screaming. 

She emerges slightly scorched, fixing her coat. “That…was the wrong table. It’s cross contaminated! Well, I suppose that’s the cost of science. Sometimes, in order to make great discoveries, you must burn a table of samples before they kill you.”

“I’m sorry, I asked a grad student and he said put it anywhere, really!” Clem bluffs.

“Which one?” 

“....um, a short guy wearing a bird mask?

“Ah, Jean-Pierre, I know him. We will have words later. Never trust an entomologist, they’ve all got a head full of beetles or something. So! What’s next for you? I can’t say we have a ton of room here, but I’m sure we can try to find somewhere for you to stay...”

Valeria idly taps the clear bead on her earring chain. “Well, we DID promise to stay at the inn in town tonight...”

Ulmus hums discontentedly. “I trust the villagers precisely as far as my guards can throw them.”

Shoshana butts in. “Right? Okay, because the last time we stayed in a fungus person’s house I was RIGHT and it SUCKED.”

We go back and forth, deciding we’ll keep our promise but stay in the annex for dinner. A feast in Mushroom Town sounds...ominous.

Clem, determined, asks the professor if she can have a flamethrower. Sadly, it doesn’t matter how much Clem pleads her strength and skill, those had to be SPECIALLY REQUISITIONED from the ENGINEERING DEPARTMENT. She had to call in favors! Now if you’ll excuse her, she has work to do.

We have an early dinner, and then head to other side of river for the first time. The difference could not be more marked. If this wasn’t German old-growth forest, the other side would be a jungle (a fungus jungle? A fungle.); these are lush, rolling, well-tamed agricultural fields dotted with quaint farmhouses; rural but civilized. 

The “town” is a bare handful of buildings clustered around a small mill. A general store, the mill, the inn, a sheriff’s office, and that’s really it. Blacksmith. Handful of tradespeople. Pretty standard – these are people who live to support the surrounding farmers.

Not far from there we can see the Farmers’ Temple we heard about, a plain round wooden structure with large carved symbols for Rack, Torme, and Lethe. By Valeria’s standards, it’s the absolute bare minimum of what counts as a temple. “They’re trying, I appreciate that.”

As we travel into town, Valeria can see that the people on this side of river seem to fall firmly into 1 of 2 camps: some are incredibly healthy, almost overly large and well-fed, and very happy. The other half seems sickly. Not as bad as Mornheim, but we can easily sort people into Kinda Sickly or Big Healthy. There’s a lot of coughing. Perhaps the Medusoid Mycelium?!

It’s nearly sunset; we head down to the inn. There’s a couple of people sitting around the inn, farmers getting a drink after making deliveries to the mill. A friendly innkeeper named Aaron greets us. “Ah, you must be the people I’ve heard about!”

“Yes, Zelig told you about us?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some rooms prepped for ya. What brings you to town? We don’t get many of your type around – knights, or whatever you are.”

“Oh, we heard there’d been another Knight of the Rose around,” Shoshana probes.

“That’s what Zelig says, haven’t seen him.”

“Well, uh, thank you for your hospitality?”

We head upstairs, breaking into our usual pairs of roommates - Clem with Gral, Valeria with Shoshana, Aethis in the stables weirding out the horses.

Clem, the wary soldier, checks around to ensure the room is secure. She finds something! A note has been tucked into the mattress. “YOU ARE IN DANGER. COME DOWNSTAIRS AFTER THE SERVICES START AT THE TEMPLE.”

Huh.

She tells the rest of us. Everyone is like, “...yeah, we already knew that?” But it’s excellent news that not every villager is in on it.

There’s a knock on Clem’s door. A nervous young woman is standing there, holding a tray full of pastries. “Hey, uh. My dad wanted me to give you these. They’re leftover, they’d just go stale anyway.” 

“Oh, uh, thank you! Much obliged. Um, will that be all?”

“Try ‘em, at least take a look at them. They’re pretty good,” the girl tells her insistently, and scurries off.

Clem and Gral immediately inspect the pastries suspiciously. Pulling one apart - sure enough, there’s a note stuffed in a pastry! It says “CHECK UNDER THE BED.”

Under the bed, where Clem found the first note.

Gral pops down to the tavern area to get a few more deets from Aaron the innkeeper. Turns out temple services start after sundown. “You’ll know it, you’ll see people headin’ towards it. Why, you thinkin of attending?”

“We have a paladin with us, she’s always interested in the local religious customs.”

“It’s nothing you’d be interested in. More of a town hall meeting than anything.”

“I understand. Thank you for the pastries, they were absolutely delicious!”

“Oh, thanks kindly! Sleep well.”

Sure enough, as the sun sets we see lights in the dark as people start streaming in from across the valley to the Farmers’ Temple.

Once it looks like the last stragglers have made it into the service, Clem knocks on wall separating our rooms, as a signal, and we head downstairs. We try to be quiet about it. Aaron and his daughter are there, cloaked and ready for travel. His daughter has a hooded lantern in her hand.

“I don’t know what you people came here for, but you’re not gonna find it here,” whispers the innkeeper urgently. “You have to leave.”

“What kind of danger?”

“I keep my ears open. Zelig came back this morning, told some people about some outsiders, guests – told us to have rooms ready for them, and then stay out of their way when they came for you tonight. I don’t know how long we have – they always go to temple first, but the clock’s running. I don’t know you much, but you seem-“

“This has happened before?” Valeria breaks in, concerned.

“Not in so many words, but, yeah. People have gone missing. Last time we couldn’t do anything about it. We weren’t warned; they just showed up in the night. This time they were worried – there’s more of you, and better armed. Last time was just traveling merchants.”

Gral nods. "We came here looking to find what 'they' were planning at the troll moot. We don't just want to run away, but if you're in danger for housing us, that can wait. What's next?"

“The troll moot? Yeah that’s fishy, but I don’t know how to warn ‘em away. You folks seem connected, can you get word out about this place? But be discreet. I’ve heard stories about the Penitents, and I don’t want no part of that either. There’s still good people here. A lot of people in that temple there, though – I would have sworn they were good people too, until this all started. I’m not sure what it’s all about. We haven’t been going to services, and so far they haven’t forced us to. But they had folks posted in the inn, makin’ sure you showed up tonight. 

“You gotta get moving. Rebecca can get you to someplace safe. Slip out now, and finish leaving the valley tomorrow night.”

Clem insights ‘em, and then seem genuinely honest and concerned for us.

“Whatever this is, something about you guys has them spooked, so I wanna make sure you survive. There’s strange things afoot in Herzfeld these days.”

“Would they let you leave?” Valeria asks.

“I don’t wanna know what would happen if we tried. So far they’ve been content to let us keep running the inn, serving ‘em drinks.”

“How have you evaded their influence?” Clem asks suspiciously. “What makes you the exception?”

“Not everybody’s one of ‘em. The woman, Zelig, she came out of the woods a couple months ago after the other side of river fell. She started talkin’ to people, sayin’ she knew way to protect us. People were scared, ‘specially since the old cleric went over to the other side of the river and never came back. A bunch of people went down to the temple to hear her say her piece. 

“Those that went – not all of them came back. Afterwards, she started holding services regularly. Meetings, gatherings, whatever. Those that go, their crops flourish, they get strong and healthy. Those that don’t start to get sick. Their crops die. And once people start getting sick, everyone tells ‘em to go to temple and pray about it.”

I don’t know why Rebecca and I have managed to avoid the brunt of it so far.”

Rebecca pipes up. “I’ve snuck into the temple during day, it’s open to everyone. It seems fine mostly, bit run down – everything seems to be in place. But whatever’s going on there, it’s weird. The point is, I can take you to a safe place.”

Her dad nods. “I dunno where it is. Safer that way.”

Rebecca continues, her face too grim for her young age. “I’ve been smuggling people out of the valley. Mostly, people who oppose Zelig just vanish. Dad keeps the inn running and keeps his ears open. Anyone we suspect might be in danger, we get them out.”

Valeria considers. “We’re not going until we figure out what’s going on, but staying safe for tonight is not a bad idea.”

“I don’t know how long the service will go. It can be ten minutes, it can be an hour. We have to get moving, now.”

We hurriedly discuss: we want to know what happens at the mysterious services, but Valeria and Clem aren’t exactly built for stealth. Rebecca says that during the service itself, the town’s pretty deserted - everyone either goes in or stays well away.

We decide to split the party: Rebecca will take Team Clank to meet her friends at the safe house; Gral and Shoshana will sneak up to the temple.

 “I can’t tell you where safe house is; if you get captured, you’ll spill. Meet me at the top of hill there. I’ll be hiding in the bushes right by the old fence.”

The shadowy huntress and the subtle bard manage to get close without giving themselves away. Gral gets right up next to a window, and listens in, staying out of the window’s line of sight.

Zelig’s voice booms out, rich and strong: “Brothers, Sisters, we come to our next business. You have heard of the outsiders. They come, they question us. They question our ways, our motives. They endanger our sacred project with our brethren amongst the trolls. Do not fear, for we have a solution: I sense in them a great capacity for love and understanding. Tonight we shall find them, and give them a chance to join in our love. Should they not, should they hold hatred in their hearts, then those hearts may be hollowed and made ready for our love. Come brothers, come sisters, come family.”

Gral minor illusions the hue of the night sky onto his face, hoping it’s enough cover to peek in the window unnoticed.

“It is time. First, let us renew our bonds,” the old woman intones. Zelig stands in the center of the circular room. All the people around her are tall, strong, and glowing with health, crowded together, holding hands. Zelig taps a floorboard, and Hans and Frans solemnly move to pry up the board. 

Underneath is a lush green carpet of plant life. Fungus and vines creep out of the floorboard, growing at an impossible rate. Everyone stands as a wave of vegetable and fungal matter extends through temple, climbing up the worshippers’ legs and enveloping their bodies entirely. As Hans and Frans pull back the boards, a frame rises up; vines work their way into frame, forming a picture. Blooming flowers and different shades of leaves and lichen form the image of a female figure, motherly looking, bound in roots. Yet another tapestry?

The worshippers speak in eerie unison. “Though bound, she will be free. She is the growth. She is our love. She is protection. She will grow free of her bonds. We will grow as she does.” The chanting does not falter as the wave of plant matter entirely consumes the chamber. Gral ducks back under the window as the air chamber starts to fill with dense, cloudy spores.

He’s been relaying everything he sees to Shoshana with Message, and they both agree: We’ve seen what we can see, it’s time to get the hell out of here.

Meanwhile, Rebecca leads Valeria and Clem out of the town proper to a set of  rolling hills near an abandoned granary. There’s a cleverly hidden trapdoor set almost invisibly into the sod, leading down into a small network of caves.

“They used to use these caves to make cheese! Hmm...it should be this one tonight.” She bypasses several doors set into the earthy tunnels, stopping at one seemingly at random and knocking softly.

A voice on the other side whispers, “Who are you?”

 “One who seeks freedom,” Rebecca whispers back.

“And who are we?”

“The last Free Thieves!”

...What.

The door opens a crack, and Rebecca hurriedly herds the tanks through. “The guy in charge is the little guy. His name’s Henri Decannes. Him or one of his people will help you get out. I have to get your friends.” She runs back into night, vanishing into the darkness.

Valeria groans. She understands that stabbing Henri is not an appropriate action at this time, but dang would she enjoy it. And now she’s gonna have a DEBT to him? Maaaaaaaan.

As Gral begins to sneak back over to Shoshana, behind them, they hear the congregants start to move.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

You are mine, mine to me pt. 2

Here is second part of you are mine, mine to me. Here is where we’re introduced to our LOTR/Hobbit characters and where the crossover truly begins.  Be prepared for angst feelings, minor hints of malnourished but I promise you they end in fluff all things work out in the end :)

Taglist:

@evyiione

______________________________________________________________

When we landed I took notice that we were surrounded by nothing but green landscape and a huge forest was just ahead of us.  Soon I could hear the sound of horses’ whinnying coming close to us, then riding up to us was a male elf with long blonde almost whitish hair, blue eyes and wearing elvish riding clothes.  He had on a quiver full of arrows and a bow strapped to his back, his face stern as he rode up to me and Thor which made me feel even more scared especially since now I didn’t have daddy to comfort me. Along with him were what I assumed to be the guards uncle Thor spoke of back on Asgard.

“Is this the child you spoke of?” The male elf said.

“Yes Legolas Thranduilion, this is her”.  The elf known as Legolas whom grandma claimed to be the name of my big brother skillfully and was grace got off his white horse and came up to me softening his eyes as he began to observe me.

“May I see your right hand young one?” I turned to Uncle Thor for approval and he nodded and said.

“Go on”.  I slowly moved my sleeve up and shyly showed him my right hand.  He took it with the most gentlest of touches and he turned my hand over palm facing up revealing my star birthmark on the underside of my wrist.  Legolas’ eyes seemed to widen then he looked into my eyes and he muttered.

“You have her eyes, and the same mark”. He then revealed that he had the same birthmark I did on the same hand, same place.  He and I locked eyes with each other and I heard one of the guards say as I was taken by my supposed older brother.

“But it can’t be—”

“But it is Feren, this is my sister”. Soon the Elvish guard placed their right hand over their hearts and kneeled before me.  Even though I’ve been raised as a princess in Asgard, seeing these Elves bow before me felt a little weird almost not right because I had been raised in Asgard my whole life, and now I’m suddenly taken from the comforts of my own home and placed into a new place as a true princess from an isolated realm.  “Thank you Thor Odinson, we’ll take her home now”.  Thor nodded his head then he turned to me.

“It’ll be alright (y/n), never forget that I’ll always still see you as my little niece, whenever I can I’ll come to visit you soon”.  He gently rubbed my head and kissed the top of my head and soon he called Heimdell to open the Bifrost and soon the only family of Asgard I had left was gone.

“Guards, tolo, let us return my sister to her true home”. Legolas stated. I was soon put on the back of my brother’s horse and he skillfully hopped behind me and he whispered. “Hold on tight sister”, he then urged his horse onward and soon we were riding off towards the forest with the guards following us on their horses.

As we rode deep into the forest, we soon came across a bridge leading into a great stone door with two guards at their posts.  Legolas got off the horse and he lifted his arms out toward me and he helped me get off the horse but still held me in his arms. We walked over the bridge where just ahead a water fall stood proud and a river ran below the bridge, he then said in Elvish for the guards to open the doors which they did and soon we were inside the palace.

Weaving trails were all over the place, it looked more like a cave and a tree combined into one rather than a palace, if too many people walked along these winding paths, they’d drop thousands of feet into who knows what.  Light dangled down from lamps made of tree and sap, and light from the sun came in and out from the cracks in the trees.  We kept walking along the winding path until we stood before a large tree-like throne with branches extended outwards from the crown almost like very large antlers.  Sitting on the throne was a male elf that almost looked exactly like my so called brother but his features were more dangerous almost like he could snap at any moment if I wasn’t who everyone thinks I am.

“Is this the girl, Legolas?”

“Yes adar, and I’ve confirmed it myself, not only does she have mother’s eyes and looks, but she bares the mark of our kin on her right wrist.” The elf king stood up and walked down from the throne slowly with grace but also pride.  He then stood before the two of us and held out his hand for me to take.  I just looked up at him then down to his hand and the back up again and again frightenedly.

“Don’t be scared dear one, I just wish to see if what my son says is true”. His voice confused me, it sounded warm and velvet like honey dripping from its hive but it also held great authority and commanding like thunder.  I looked up at his eyes to see they were alluring blue like the sky and the ocean met to form his color or eyes, but he expressed such comfort assuring me that nothing bad was going to happen to me (at least I hope not). I gave him my hand slowly and already had it palm up so that he could see my mark and when he did, his eyes widened in shock.  He looked up at me and took me away from the Prince and just looked up and down at me and stared into my eyes.

After awhile in nothing but complete silence, it was finally broke by his whisper.

“You are her. By the Valar you are her. Look at you—you’ve grown so much”.  He brought me close to him, my head resting on his shoulder and I could hear and feel him crying.  “You’re alive. I can’t believe you’re really here”.

So it is true.

I really am the lost daughter of the elf King of Álfheimr.  I soon then felt what I assumed my brother hugged me from behind resting his head on my back as both he and my father cried tears of happiness.

But why wasn’t I?

I just felt empty inside and my head was full of questions that didn’t make sense, I also felt this great deal of pain in my chest right around my heart.  Even though I was with my real father and big brother, this didn’t feel right. Not like it was back on Asgard, with my dad—Loki.

I was then escorted to my room by Thranduil and when we got there I took notice that I had all the normal stuff a bedroom should have. A dresser, a mirror, a large bed with dark green silk sheets and the bed rails design was curved and twisted around exactly like everything else in this tree palace.

“This was and always has been your room. Anytime I could I would always come down here to see you, even if it was during meetings or political matters, the council was never happy about it but I didn’t care. But after you were—well when I thought you had died, it became harder and harder to come into this room without feeling the most agonizing heartache. Soon it came to just not coming in here at all, but I still ordered the maids to keep it clean, hoping by that some miracle that you would soon return to me, and would want to sleep in a clean room and not one filled to the brim with dust”. I walked in slowly and then sat on the bed.  It was nice and soft but it still didn’t feel like the bed I had back on Asgard, but I guess I can’t think about Asgard anymore since this is my home now.

“King Thranduil, sir—”

“Oh pen tithen, there’s no need for formalities around me, we are family after all, but if you still need time I understand. This seems to be quite a lot to take in, isn’t it?” I nodded solemnly.  “But don’t be frightened, your brother and I shall answer any questions you need, I’ll have him bring you up a nice Elvish meal before bedtime, is that alright? You are hungry, aren’t you?” Now that he mentioned it, my stomach did softly growl. Embarrassed, I wrapped my arms around my stomach trying to hide the sound only to hear Thranduil chuckle softly.  “I will take that as a yes” he stood up and then walked out of the room leaving me to my thoughts.

A few minutes later, my brother came in with a tray of food.  Salads, bread, fruit, and a cup of water.

“Father asked me to bring dinner to you, we’ll give you some time to adjust before we ask you to join us at the dining area where we normally eat”. He set the tray down and when I only took notice of the food the elves eat. I started to miss all the things I ate back on Asgard. Many different kinds of the meats, the unlimited amounts of fruits while on this tray I only see apples and grapes, and this bread was small and in the shape of a square, not long foot rolls that seemed longer than my arm.  “I know it’s going to take some time to getting use to our customs, but you’ll soon see the light of your true heritage. Tomorrow I’ve cleared my schedule with training the guards to show you around the kingdom. Also so that I can spend some time with my little sister”. I remained silent for a bit just staring solemnly at the food.

Realizing I didn’t really want to talk, Legolas got my message and said as he stood up.

“Anyways, the food will give you strength, and get some rest afterwards, I’ll check up on you in a couple of hours to see how you’re getting along”.  Just before he reached the door I asked him.

“What was my birth name?” I looked up at him and he turned to me as he had the door opened and he said.

“Estel, father named you Estel meaning hope, shortly after mother died giving birth to you, you were his light and hope from falling into despair and dying of a broken heart”. I looked down and soon heard the door softly close signaling that the prince had left the room.

I looked hesitate at the food and just couldn’t even think about eating anything.  I set the tray on the dresser by my bedside and covered myself up with the sheets.  My stomach was empty and my mind was full, and the saying of when your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it’s always harder to sleep.  Along with that my heart felt heavy as I began to remember that by now back on Asgard, daddy and I would be in my room right now, with him reading a story to me, showing me some last minute magic, or just simply being there with me until I fell asleep 

I miss daddy so much. I miss Asgard. I miss my room, my toys, everything. Even though I’ve been told the truth by grandma—I mean Queen Frigga, I still don’t know why I can’t accept this fate.  My chest began to hurt and tears fell down my face as I whimpered and sobbed into the soft white pillow until I had cried myself to sleep 

*Meanwhile back on Asgard*

Loki had stayed isolated from everyone ever since (y/n) left, he hasn’t spoken to anyone and seemed to be walking like Hel itself had gotten ahold of him and sucked out his soul.  As he was walking through the halls of the palace, he decided to go into a room but the room he went into wasn’t his own.

It was his daughter’s.

His heart grew heavy as he came into the room hoping to see his precious starlight asleep in the bed, but all he got was a made up bed, fully ruffled up pillows, and a doll leaning against the pillow.  He sat down on the bed and picked up the doll and began to break down softly hugging the doll close to his chest.  

He had wished that he had never allowed her to be at the Bifrost, he wished that he could’ve snuck into her room and told her to pack up her stuff and the two of them could’ve ran away together, somewhere far, far away from Asgard, he could’ve concealed them both in a magic barrier so that even Heimdell’s eyes could not see them. He had the power to take them away, so why didn’t he stop this from happening?

Loki continued to sob softly right through the night, never once letting go of the doll. 

*A few days later*

I had been given the tour of my new kingdom, I was granted into the Elvish heritage and had a celebration in my honor for my return to the throne of Álfheimr. But through all the celebrations, the feasts and getting reacquainted with my real father and brother, the ache in my heart never ceased, in fact every day it seemed to grow worse.  I don’t sleep, I barely eat, and everyday unless I’m forced to come out I’m in my room lying on my bed crying just like now.

The pain in my chest was agonizing that I could barely even get out of bed without it hurting so much. What did I do to deserve to feel this pain in my chest? Why me and not anyone else? I heard my door opening and I felt a gentle dip by my bedside and a voice said.

“Estel, please you must get up and stop this mopping. It is not good for you to stay like this forever”. It was Thranduil who had come to see me. I moaned in pain and cried out.

“Why does it hurt? Why does it hurt so much?” Suddenly without warning the pain felt like Uncle Thor’s lightning as I screamed in agony and cried. My father sat there in shock and tried to comfort me but I just kept thrashing and screaming in agony about the pain. Then my vision went black.

*Thranduil’s POV*

As I held my daughter I couldn’t help but feel powerless of what to do for her, I could only hold her and tried to whisper comforting words into her ear as I rocked her but when she went still, my heart sunk.

“Estel? Estel? No, no, no pen tithen you can’t leave me again. Guards! GUARDS PLEASE HELP!!!!” Her doors opened and two of my guards came in and took my daughter to the medical wing of the palace.  My healers were surrounding my daughter who was as still as a statue, her small, frail body showing me the self-abuse she had done to herself. Her lack of eating had made her almost skin and bones and her normal pale skin had become deathly pale white and dark circles were under her eyes from lack of sleep.

“Adar! Adar! What’s happened?” My son Legolas soon came up to me asking what was wrong with our Estel but all I could answer was.

“I don’t know, they haven’t told me yet of what’s wrong with her”. Soon our head Healer Elrond came out and I begged to him. “Elrond, mellon what’s wrong with my daughter?”

“I am sorry to have to tell you this Thranduil, but I’m afraid your daughter is dying”.

Those words. Those three words are one think a parent never wants to hear about their child.

“What do you mean?” Legolas demanded.

“Based on her self-malnourishment and the pain she’s been claiming to have, she’s dying of a broken heart. Probably due to the fact that she misses her family on Asgard”.

“But she belongs here, she can freely visit them and we’ve already agreed to that”.

“But it won’t be the same, I’m sorry Prince Legolas but even if she were to visit her family there, the minute she comes back here it’ll start all over again, I’m sorry”, but there’s nothing else me or any of my healers can do for her. Elrond then walked away and I just kept staring at my daughter through the glass begging to be by her side and hold her telling her I was there, but I knew deep down it wouldn’t matter to her.

I then left for my bed chambers without another word on the matter.

My thoughts began to battle against each other, I couldn’t lose my daughter again. Not after I had finally found out that she was alive after all these years, but I don’t want her to suffer while she’s here. I just want what’s best for her, and I can’t stand to see her suffer because of me.

I guess it’s clear now for what I must do.

*Time skip TO ASGARD!!!!*

The suns of Asgard had just set over the horizon and nightfall came upon the city of gold. Loki as usual was in his daughter’s room lying on her bed when a knock came at the door.

“Go away!” Loki croaked from the brokenness of his voice from crying.

“My Prince Loki, it is urgent”. Knowing that it was a guard and not his witless brother he slowly raised up and said.

“What is it?”

“Heimdell requires your presence”. Loki wiped away his tears and tried to make himself more presentable for the gatekeeper then went out to the stables and rode off along the rainbow bridge to the Bifrost.  When he unmounted, Heimdell stood there with a cloaked figure standing before the gatekeeper. Heimdell said not a word but just left his post and walked out of the Bifrost leaving Loki alone with the cloaked figure.  The figure turned to Loki and hands raised up to the hood and when the hood was taken down, Loki now stood in the presence of King Thranduil of Álfheimr.

“King Thranduil”. Loki said with a slight bow of the head.

“I come on behalf of one whom I love.” Loki looked at the Elf king in confusion before Thranduil stated again, “(Y/n) is dying”.

Loki’s heart stopped and his eyes widened as Thranduil continued,

“She will not survive the pain that is in her heart. The more time she’s away from Asgard, the more the pain becomes for her, she will not long survive in my homeland. That is why I’ve come to the ultimate decision, she must remain here with you Loki of Asgard”.

“But Thranduil, she is your daughter. You helped create her and give her life—”

“But you Loki of Asgard were the one to raise her. You saw her first steps, heard her first words, fed her, bathed her, and comforted her anytime she felt alone or afraid. Every milestone she ever had, you were the first to see it, and she’s grown to see you as her true father. To her, I’m just the elf King who took her away from you. Please, from one father to another, to save the life of the child we both love so deeply for, take her and continue to raise her as your own. Save her from Hel’s touch before it takes her away from the both of us forever, please. I would rather have her be happy than to see her at the hands of death”.

Loki looked into the Elf King’s eyes and saw that he was telling the utmost true, the Elf King for the first time in centuries had tears forming in his eyes and his facial expression was one of brokenness and a father’s desperate plea to save the life of his child. 

Not wasting another minute, Loki summoned Heimdell back in and he then took the God of Mischief and the Elf King back to Álfheimr.

At the palace everyone was gathered around the princess who was lying in a silver glassed casket.  When Loki saw the sight of his little starlight, he couldn’t believe that this was what had become of her. He turned to Thranduil and the Elf King nodded. Loki then slowly walked up towards the casket and knelt down beside her. All the Elves sorrow-filled that they would lose their returning princess and fearing that there was no hope left to bring her back.

Loki softly stroked a strand of hair away from her face and whispered to her.

“I love you (y/n)”. He then kissed her forehead lovingly as tears fell down his face. As he separated from me, something happened.

Suddenly a bright wave came out of (y/n)’s body and the wave seemed to give everyone some hope, and their hearts only grew when the princess opened her eyes and took a quick gasp of air.

*My POV*

I opened my eyes to see daddy kneeling beside me.

“Daddy?”

“Oh starlight!” He cried my nickname. I leaned up and raised my hand up to see if this was a dream, seeing my hesitation he chuckled softly and brought my hand to his cheek and he said. “This isn’t a dream darling, I’m really here”.

“Oh daddy!” I hugged him and he hugged me back and repeatedly kissed me all over my face. We separated from each other and I said to him “the pain in my chest is gone, what caused it daddy?”

“Well darling, you were feeling very, very sick. Thranduil came to Asgard and brought me here hoping that I could help, and it turns out I did. You’re gonna be just fine now”.

“Does—does this mean you’re going back to Asgard now?” I asked tears forming in my eyes thinking that this would be the last time I would see daddy again.

“No darling, Thranduil and I talked, and he feels that it’s best you come back home with me, in case you get sick again”. I looked at him surprised and said.

“Really?”

“Really, really”. He kissed my forehead and held me close to him and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as tight as I could. I then saw Thranduil and Legolas looking at me with empathy eyes but they still looked sad at me leaving them again. I began to think of an idea and when it came to me, I tapped daddy on the shoulder and whispered in his ear of my plan. “Oh darling, you’re kind heart never ceases to amaze me”. He stood up with me still in his arms and he followed Thranduil and Legolas who were walking away.

“Thranduil” he and my brother stopped and turned to us and daddy said again, “firstly I would like to thank you for allowing me to continue raising (y/n), she has meant the world to me, and helped me find my old self after a very long time”.

“She does have that effect on people, and please as I said before, I would rather see her happy than be forever bound to her grief. Take care of her Loki of Asgard”.

“Hold on, there’s another part of the deal I would like to add,” Thranduil and Legolas looked at us confused then daddy continued, “I will continue to raise her as my own, I will love and care for her just as I did before. But what I would like to add, is in return on your end of the deal, you and Legolas come to Asgard every once in awhile to visit, and the same vice-versa and allow us to come here to Álfheimr just so that (y/n) can still remain close to her Elvish heritage”.  Both the Elf King and Elf Prince looked at us in shock and Legolas said.

“Really?”

“Yes, even though I didn’t show it at first because I was missing Asgard and my daddy so much, I just want to thank you both for trying to make me feel as comfortable as possible. And I know I didn’t say it as much but I do love you Adar and Muindor”.

Hearing me call them father and brother, it made them smile and bring tears to their eyes. I had daddy set me down and I walked up to them and I was then picked up by my brother and I solemnly said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make things easy for you guys or the people of Álfheimr”.

“You don’t need to apologize for that pen tithen, we understand. You had grown accustomed to living in Asgard and to suddenly be thrown into a whole new lifestyle with a new family was too much for you to handle. We will always still love you, our little Estel”. Legolas said as he gently kissed my forehead and held me close to him as Adar joined in wrapped his arms around his son and leaned his head against mine kissing my hair.  We stayed that way for a bit then Adar took me back to daddy and he said.

“Make sure you honor your end of the bargain God of Mischief”.

“I maybe one of mischief and lies, but this deal will never be broken by my silver tongue, so long as you hold your end of the bargain”.

“It shall be held, from one father to another”. My daddy and Adar nodded to each other then daddy said to me.

“Hold on tightly sweetheart, Heimdell open the bridge!” Soon we were surrounded by the bright colors and once again I stood on the Bifrost looking out at the kingdom that was and will always be my home. “Come on darling, let’s go home”. I nodded and leaned against my daddy’s shoulder and he walked towards his horse and we both rode off back to the palace.

In the years to come, my daddy and Adar both kept their promises and Álfheimr and Asgard were once again allied realms. I learned and grew to be both Asgardian and an Álfheimr elf learning how to wield a bow and arrow thanks to my big brother and a sword thanks to my Adar. I grew up on both heritages and I will never forget that while I was born an Álfheimr elf, I was raised as an Asgardian.

For Loki of Asgard is mine, mine to me just as I am to him.

[archergwenwrites]

Storyteller Part Seven

The Goblin Queen stared at the siblings, blinked, and when her brother and friends burst into the throne room, she let her magic explode out from her, forming a bubble as she froze time for them. Sokka took one look at her and then wove a spell to deflect attention from the bubble, just in case.

“Explain.”

Azula and Zuko glanced at each other. “We can’t,” he began. “We always thought-”

He broke off, unsure, and his sister picked up the tale. “Dad always said we were alone, that we had no family and it was just us three. No one ever came to see us, and Mom vanished, so why would we disagree? We had no reason to think he was some magical elf.”

“That was his voice? This doesn’t make sense,” Aang began. “Why would a prince of the Winter Court hide children Aboveground?”

“Our dad is what?”

Sokka lifted a placating hand to both the siblings and Goblin Queen. “Actually, hold on. Ozai went missing almost twenty years ago and didn’t show up for nearly fifteen years, still the mysterious and distant manipulative bastard we knew. There were rumors tying him to that not-so-noble-blooded lady his father hated which vanished once he showed up without her. Katara-” Sokka shot a look at Zuko who followed every word with narrowed focus, calculating with him. “-Katara I think these are their kids.”

“What?”

The entire gang seemed shocked, but Sokka pressed on. “Maybe she wanted to run away, or actually ran with the kids. Maybe he thought this was just a short fling, I don’t know. But we all know the line of Sozin are masters at turning unexpected situations to their advantage.” He nods to Azula. “Madame General of the Black Chicken Insurrection. The kid’s magic wouldn’t activate until they were here. If he adopted a Labyrinth kid, that would definitely ease his public image and put him leagues ahead of the heirless Iroh in the running for king once the Council gets around to voting. In addition, the kid whould be wholly dependent on him.”

“It would probably be Azula,” Zuko added, emotionless.

“I wouldn’t be manipulated,” she began, affronted but her brother’s hand on her shoulder stopped the initial rage.

“Sis, you would be alone in a strange land full of strange customs, suddenly an only child and suddenly a princess. Don’t pretend you don’t want that a little bit. You would be blinded at least for a bit by awe and confusion.” His voice was kind, but he kept glancing at the Queen.

For her part, Katara nodded. “We can sort that out later. He’s just declared war on a neutral territory on behalf of his house if not the Winter Court. I have to respond, and it will not be with kid gloves.”

Zuko looked at his sister for confirmation, but she was too in shock to react. He met the Goblin Queen’s gaze and replied, “do what you have to.”

She breathed, and the little bubble of time faded away.

While Zuko and Azula gathered their bearings, Katara turned to the others. “Suki, I need you to gather any magic users you can, dwarves, subjects, whoever you can find. Toph-”

“Defenses. Already on it.” She and Suki hurried into a passageway.

“Aang, I need you to go to the Summer and Winter Courts. They need to know what’s happening. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The smallest of their friends looked more serious and grim than she’d ever seen. “It’s high time I start doing my job.” With that, he took a running start and dove out a window, catching a burst of wind and flying away.

Katara turned to her brother. “Any chance the dragons with throw in with us?”

“I mean, a little. If Ozai’s poked on those borders then he’s trespassed. I don’t know if it’s enough.”

“Go anyway. Try not to look desperate, more like we’re offering them an opprotunity for glory.”

“I’d rather be here to help fight-”

“As the strategist, I think you know why my brother should not be here, too.”

His voice dropped, suddenly quiet, serious, desperate. “Katara, don’t. We don’t know what his plan is. Besides, I’m not technically your subject. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“On the field of battle, I outrank you, so yes I can. Please, Sokka. Go. The faster you do the sooner you’re back.”

“I love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

Sokka raced off, leaving Katara alone to sigh heavily. With a gesture, she released the spell holding the goblins in their kinder, smaller form. If threatened, they would grow taller and more menacing to defend themselves and the Labyrinth.

Zuko’s low voice reminded her she was not, in fact, alone.

“You are brave.”

She met his gaze with her shoulders square and her spine straight even as the weight of her kingdom’s defense sapped at her strength. “I am a queen.”

A look passed between them, and the rest of the world could have fallen apart without their noticing. Respect was thick, enough to cut. Something like forgiveness was there, too, underlain with a heat she turned away from first.

"You two should head somewhere safe. Off the library is-"

She broke off, confused, as she felt the Labyrinth pull away like a creeping vine in too much light. There was a crack, like stone split in two by lightning, and she instinctively threw her arms out in defense, comforted by sensing the same from Zuko as he yanked his sister under his arms.

A spell was wrapped around her, around the personal sphere of protection she had cast for herself. It writhed and wiggled about, insidious and slippery as a serpent as it pressed inward, not with lethal intent but to bind and maim.

Lightning struck stone again, and the golden-eyed man from the dream stood in her throne room looking like a cat who caught the mouse and was ready to play with its dinner. There was a faint buzz around him as he threw his will and magic against the Labyrinth’s attempts to kick him out and Katara’s attempt to break free. She focused her attentions on finding a weak spot, letting the conversation flow through her mind to process later.

“Father,” Zuko began, voice flat, one hand on Azula’s mouth. “What brings you here? I have it on good authority that we’ll still be home before bedtime.”

Ozai frowned. “Do you have any idea of the magic and planning you have wasted? You couldn’t wait four years? No. You throw it all away before your sister would be taken seriously at Court.”

“It’s Azula, Father. They would take her seriously at eight or learn to the hard way.”

“You know nothing of how things are done-”

“But I can guess.” Ozai lifted an eyebrow and the air grew thick. “It’s like any political hive. Smiles and handshakes hiding hatred and cutting words. Azula will thrive here; you know this, and would put a price tag on it. I don’t fit; I never did, so when Mom left you were free to plot.”

“She didn’t leave.”

The small scuffle between the two siblings stuttered to a halt as Zuko froze. Azula broke free by a few feet, and then processed what her father said. “Mom’s alive?”

He was not pleased when he replied, “Yes. On a technicality. Killing touches the soul, and any half-trained Fae can pick out a murderer from a crowd.” His derisive glance at Zuko was not missed. “She’s somewhere Aboveground, leeching off my magic to stay alive. Why do you think I kept coming back down here? But enough of this chatter, come, Azula.”

“You want to kill Mom?” Her voice was small, on the edge of broken. Katara, her space slowly shrinking, could feel Zuko’s rage even still.

“She stole you away from me. I could enjoy her plot to run away together - she was the ideal match even if no one would approve of our marriage. You, daughter, are proof of that. But she-” He paused to consider his words. “-objected to returning, to my parenting. And so she ran, and used the skills that broke us free of my parents to slip away from me. Zuko was twelve when I found you again. You wouldn’t remember, of course. I may have edited your memories.”

“Liar,” Zuko snarled.

“Please,” Ozai laughed. “Don’t tell me you actually thought it was natural fire that burned you?”

Katara risked a slip of concentration to look at Zuko. He was pale, paler than normal, with the horrified, vacant look - matched by Azula - of someone who has just had false memories ripped away and the truth returned. Ozai said something else, but Katara missed it as a small wisp of magic broke through the spell. She almost crushed it before recognizing the Labyrinth, and she welcomed the bond.

“I don’t give up on what is mine. So come, Azula, and we will get my throne. If you like, it would be a simple matter to free this one for you.”

The young girl glanced at Katara who widened her eyes in desperation.

“Aren’t you forgetting? I’m the oldest. I stand in her way.”

Ozai’s attention returned to Zuko. “Do you think I am a fool? I am the younger son of Azulon. Your uncle has tried for years to argue his claim before the Council, yet here we still are in a succession gridlock for his son is dead and he refuses to remarry. I don’t need you.”

“Then there’s nothing stopping me from making a claim, is there? I’m intelligent, of age, apparently of the Sozin line, and I beat the Labyrinth. I will protect my sister.”

With an angry purr, Ozai finally took a step forward. “It’s not murder if it’s pest control-”

Several things happened after his slip of concentration.

First, Katara broke free as the Labyrinth immediately ceased resisting Ozai and flooded its queen with power.

As a result, Ozai stumbled slightly as if a chair he’d been leaning on had moved. With both his constricting spell broken and the Labyrinth resistance gone, he suddenly had a lot more magic at hand then he was expecting - not that he got to use any of it.

Zuko shoved all the hurt and pain down and away, slipping into a ready stance. His hand went to the knife his uncle gave him for his tenth birthday - a gift he now remembered.

And Azula - who had sat for hours in the library reading primers on magical creatures and politics, as well as primers on magic when Katara wasn’t looking - Azula gathered up magic with wide hands and spread fingers casting through the air like a net. Emotions rolling but head and heart clear, she put a lightning bolt through Ozai’s knee.

[runusbrewblade]

Melony’s Path part 2

Melony blinked as she stared into the darkness. The last thing she remembered was that she was being defiled by some strange shadow monster that came out of a magic book. Before she knew it the book had sucked her up into its pages. Now she was floating, or so she thought in this vast nothingness. Fear crept through her mind as she wonders if she would be stuck in here forever. She bit her lip as she thought about what she could do to free herself and maybe find a way back home. Suddenly as if answering her thoughts a bright light blew up before her. She shielded her eyes as she tried to at what was making the light, the moment she could see what it was her whole body froze.

Towering before her was a giant of a woman, at least thirty feet tall. Her skin looked to be made of the night sky, with stars sparkling all over her. Her hair pure glowing silver and flowing like crystal clear river down the side of a mountain. Her eyes were like the pecks of the Silver Pine mountains, ice cold and beautiful to gaze into. She had a crown of crystal shards that seem to glow different colors now and then, adding to her graceful beauty. She was completely nude and Melony couldn’t help but blush as she stared at her. Melony wasn’t sure what to say let alone think but the moment she took the whole view in did she realize who she was staring at. Minsis, goddess of magic, arts, knowledge and the strange. She remembers seeing portraits of her in the libraries in her travels but they did not do her justice at all.

The goddess looked down at her, a smile tugging at her lips as she leaned down onto her elbows and looked over Melony, like how a little girl would look at a frog or bug she had found while exploring her pound.

“Interesting, been a while since someone was brave enough to open one of my books. I hope my little pet wasn’t too mean to you, he can get so horny when he hasn’t had anyone to fuck in a few hundred years give or take.” Her voice was like the sound of wind chimes during a winter breeze.

Melony gulped as she felt her hooves begin to feel solid ground under them. She grasps her staff tightly as she spoke up. “This...that was your book?” She felt her heart hammer against her chest as she prays Minsis would let her out of here and back to her freedom. “Goddess Minsis, if it is not too much trouble maybe I could be let out and be on my way. I promise not to mess with it again.” She spoke softly, hoping the goddess was in a giving mood.

“Hmmmmmm why would I? Its been ages since I talk to anyone and besides I’m bored. Maybe if you can entertain me I may let you out.” She grins as she leans closer to Melony, her eyes shining brightly as she smiled at her. “What do you say care to cure me of my boredom?”

Melony says NO:

“Ummm sorry but I rather just leave. I’ve had enough excitement for today and I just wish to return to the normal world and leave that cave I was in.”

it was painfully clear that Minsis did not like this. She frowned as she seems upset at Melony’s choice. Without a word she waved her hand and out of thin air a white ivory stone throne formed around Melony. It bound her to it, her arms and legs unable stuck to it, unable to move or pull away. Melony struggled until the chuckles of Minsis grabbed at her attention. She stared up at the goddess, fear racing through her mind as she wonders what the goddess was about to do.

“Oh silly thing, as if you had a choice. But now I am going to be less kind and just use you for my enjoyment. I wonder how long you will last though, hopefully, longer than the last one to visit me.”

Before Melony could even ask what the goddess meant a sharp jolt of electricity shot up her spine. She cried out at first, the pain hot and sharp as it felt as someone had just stabbed her in the back but then a kick of pleasure hit her, the kind that she would feel after a good hard climax. She gasped and moaned as she felt her whole body come to life. She had no idea what had happened but it was intense. Suddenly that same sharp pain came followed by another wave of hot pleasure. Her body jerked to them, each one stronger than the last. She wasn’t sure what was happening but it was making her head spin.

“Like it? I call this beauty the Torture Throne. It gives you a jolt of pain at first but then follows up with intense pleasure, like you just climaxed from an hour-long edging session. Mmmmmmmm trains your body to enjoy the pain, by giving you that sweet pleasure like a little reward. The last mortal I had tested this on lasted a few days before expiring. With luck, you’ll be able to last longer than him and relieve me of my boredom.” She laughed as she tilted her head to the side as she watched Melony suffer.

Melony had nothing but regret to her choice. The pain and pleasure were already straining her body but the idea of being stuck like this for days until her body broke was horrifying. She screamed out, her voice echoing around her as the pain shot into her once more before making her moan and drool as the pleasure overwhelmed her once again. To make matters worse she couldn’t even climax. Sure she felt the pleasure but without feeling that release, that moment when your climax breaks over your body and you just enjoy the relief was just as bad as the pain. She wept as she tried to speak, to beg for Minsis to spare her and free her from this living nightmare but her words couldn’t even form as the swell of pleasure and pain crashed through her like a massive tidal wave. She could feel her mind drifting, losing hold of her thoughts as the sensations drowned her soul. It seems this would be the end for her, a quick plaything for a bored goddess.

Melony says Yes:

Melony was a bit unsure but it was best to not anger a goddess, especially one who could do all sort of terrible things to her if she wished to. She nodded her head and offered a little smile. “Alright, How can of be of service to you goddess Minsis?”

“Oh wonderful, been too long since anyone wanted to help me. Mmmmm this is going to be fun~” She laughed a bit as she waved her hand and produce two potions before Melony. One was a deep blood red potion, with flecks of green leaves in it. It looked like something you would see in an alchemy shop. The other she notice was a swirling deep blue, it seems to move on its own, changing direction at a moments notice. Melony looked at them both before looking back at the goddess.

“Am I to pick one then?”

“Mmmhhmmm you are. Pick one and drink it. Don’t worry they are mostly harmless but they will change you in a big way of course.” Minsis grins as she watches and waits for Melony to make her choice. Her eyes dancing with excitement as she taps her fingers to her chin.

Melony Picks the Red Potion.

The moment she drank the potion she could feel its raw magic at work. She gasped and fell to her knees, her body feeling like it was on fire. She moaned and cried out in pain as she felt her legs growing larger and thicker, the bones swelling up as her body felt like it was being stretched out. She watched in horror as her lower body began to morph, stretching and growing bigger in size. She jerked in pain as her legs split open, dividing until she had four of them. Painfully she watched as her lower body was transformed into that of a Centaurs. He eyes widened in shock at the sight of her new lower body, four hooves, and a short tail. She wasn’t a horse centaur but more of a deer centaur. She was about to speak when a new sensation ran up her spine. Vines shot out of her hooves and traveled up her body, coiling around her legs and digging into her skin. Melony kicked and screamed as she felt green leaves sprouting from her own horns. She felt like she was being turned into a tree but as suddenly as it had happened everything stopped. She panted as she felt her new body settling in.

“Oh wonderful it worked, was worried you may turn out like a tree shape centaur-like the last one did.” Minsis giggled as she looked down at Melony.

Melony was no longer a Forest Elf, now she was something entirely new. She rose to her feet, wobbling as she felt her four new legs trying to hold her up. She looked like a centaur deer woman but she had living vines and tree leaves sprouting over her body. Her own antlers were now like branches of a tree, full of green leaves and a few flowers. Her mind raced with questions. She was like a hybrid child of a Centaur and a Dryad.

“Oh, you look lovely, just what I wanted. I am sure my sister Hekatara will love this.” Minsis spoke as her large hand running over Melony's new body. Her fingers brushing and stroking Melony new backside before the slide down and lingered on her large rear. Melony moaned a bit, her new body was sensitive now, a lot more than her old one was. She blushed as she felt her sex begin to wet at the goddess’s touch.

“Oh, my excited already? Mmmmm perfect, I want to see how well your new body works.” She smirked as she ran her fingers against Melony’s sex, teasing it slowly as she watched the centaur girl shiver and wobble. Melony’s juices quickly began to flow, sticking to Minsis’s finger like sweet sap. “Ohhhh this is wonderful, the dryad part has turned your sexual juices into sweet nectar. Mmmm this will trap any stud who mounts you as well as give them the best lay of their life. Oh, I do outdo myself at times.” She laughed as she pressed harder until she pushed her finger into Melony’s pussy and began to slowly stretch her walls out while pressing on the G spot.

The moment that happened Melony cried out as she orgasm. It was so powerful and strong she felt her knees buckled as she fell forward. Thankfully Minsis caught her and held her as she rode out the swell of pleasure. Only the sounds of panting and moaning could be heard as Melony thought about how she would have to get used to this new body of hers.

“Mmmmm well I am happy. Time to send you on your way then.” Before Melony could say a word Minsis waved her hand and whisked Melony out of the book. In a flash Melony was back in the chamber she was in before but now with her new centaur body to deal with. She looked around the room before looking at the book on the floor. She knew she should leave it, to seal it away for good but a part of her wanted it, to keep it in case she found a better use for it. She picked up the book once more and stuffed it into her bag. Now it was time for her to find her way out of this cave and back to the guild. She now had to worry about explaining all this to the guild master when she returned. 

Melony Picks the Blue Potion

The seconded Melony felt the cool blue liquid go down her throat she knew something was wrong. Her body felt heavy, her limbs left like iron as they pulled at her body. She tries to speak but her words could not form. Suddenly she watched in silent horror as her body began to change blue, her hair, and fur fading as her body was slowly turning into that of a slime. She couldn’t speak or scream as her limbs fell to the ground and pooled around her. She stared at Minsis as the world changed before her as she was made into nothing more than a blue puddle of slime.

“Oh no, this wasn't supposed to happen. Shoot I thought I was going to get this right for a change. Oh well, I guess I still need to work on it more. Happens to even us gods at times hehe.” Minsis spoke as she stares down at the puddle that was Melony. “Don’t worry I won’t send you back like this. I’ll keep you and see if I can make this a bit better for you. Thought it may take awhile. After all, I doubt you can even understand me, with your mind gone and your body no longer what it was.” She chuckled as she waved her hand and pulled Melony’s gooey body into a large jar. “There we go. Safe and sound. Sorry about this dear but you’ll have to stay in here until I find a way to make this better. Oh but don’t worry I don’t think it will take longer, a hundred years at best.” She smiled as she walked away with her, tucking her into her body before whisking away back to her own workshop. It seemed Melony wasn’t going back home for a long time now.

[class-wom]

If that off-putting ambiguity has been simmering below the surface for much of the season, it comes to a boil in “Chapter 18.” The organizing conceit of the episode is Farouk-Melanie’s presentation to Syd, the slow and steady hammering away at her insecurities and fears regarding her boyfriend, and it isn’t a fun one to sit through. It’s not just that we’re predisposed to dislike this analysis of David, rendering him sinister and psychotic in the face of everything good we’ve seen about him. And it’s not just because we eventually realize this is Farouk speaking through Melanie, taking her bitter anguish and using it like a cudgel to pound away at Syd’s confidence and trust. It’s that the whole thing is cruel. It’s hard to watch Syd succumb to a kind of emotional violence, the manipulation of her feelings looking like nothing so much as a master class in gaslighting. Farouk-Melanie uses truth to create falsehoods. David does have the capacity for cruelty inside himself; he kissed Future-Syd; there have been numerous moments in his life where he lashed out. It’s the harnessing of all these little moments into a larger narrative that steamrolls over Syd in her already vulnerable state. It’s an effective tactic, but an ugly one; a monstrous presentation about a monster.

And the sense of having the super-powered rug pulled out from under us continues with the seeming negation of all that elliptical planning on David’s part. We finally learn Clark’s part of the strategy—bringing the Choke to neutralize all their powers—and with a wave of his hand, the Shadow King flicks the massive tuning fork thousands of yards away into the sky. We see David torturing Oliver to learn the whereabouts of Syd, which turns out to be all for naught, the Shadow King having abandoned the body well before David arrived. Cary and Kerry take the fight to the monastery, only to have the Minotaur flex its might. There’s a frustrating futility permeating the actions of our heroes in this installment, and it gives a weird weightless quality to some of the plot, sapping it of emotional force. In its place we get a strange ambivalence—does the behavior of anyone but David and Farouk really make all that much of a difference to the outcome? True, it’s the journey, not the destination, but we still need to feel as though everyone isn’t just tilting at windmills.

Luckily, a lot of that other action was damn fun to watch, regardless of its effects. Kerry Loudermilk got a chance to unload on some anonymous goons (presumably they work for the Shadow King?), who removed those safes from their heads and got off some sickness-inducing attacks via their bolo whips (that’s what those were, right?). The action was more amusing than thrilling, filmed in slow-motion and scored with Jane’s Addiction, but it nevertheless provided an all-too-rare opportunity for Kerry to apply her skill-set. Lenny has a new can-do attitude to match her massive assault rifle, and despite a few well-placed bullets to help out Kerry, she’s still playing the waiting game. Her role is the only one remaining that seems like it could actually help David tip the balance of power in defeating Farouk.

Of course, that’s also thanks in part to that unsettling opening image, as the camera pans away from the lightning bolts to enter the shelter with a flickering fire, Lenny reclining in pleasure, and David looking more malevolent than ever with a crystal ball that might contain Syd. If that’s an ominous portent of what’s to come, this season is a second act that makes Empire  Strikes Back look downright celebratory.

Not everything worked. The Minotaur was already plenty creepy as is. Powering it up into a behemoth like it was a Dark Elf from Thor: The Dark World came off a little silly. Luckily, it then spent most of its time hiding in the shadows on the ceiling, leading to that weird but excellent encounter with the two Vermillion. And while Syd certainly can’t be faulted for wanting to hit something, perhaps throwing punches at a giant creature that’s been ripping people and androids in half isn’t the wisest time to jump into the fray.

There’s only one episode left, and it’s the additional one ordered by FX to bring a total of 11 episodes in season two. Neither Hawley nor the network have given an explanation for why this was done yet, but it’ll be interesting to learn the creative reasoning behind it. There’s no question episode 10 probably looked very different before that change—a change made prior to season three being picked up, it’s worth noting. Legion has shed quite a few viewers this season, and it’s not hard to understand why. While others have pointed to the more confusing nature of the story as the cause (time travel! Guys with baskets on their heads for no particular reason!), that doesn’t seem right. It’s not all that confusing, and the show has really worked to make sure all the plots, themes, and even headier intellectuals concepts are clear. No, it’s the difficult emotional throughline that’s been pulled and split, preventing any clear identification or traditional means of rooting for characters. As we come to next week’s finale, there’s no clear indication of what a “win” would look like. That’s a worrisome thought.

Stray observations

David expresses fear about how much he’s savoring the idea of killing Farouk, but Syd’s final lines imply the damage is already done, as far as she’s concerned. “He’s the monster now. Maybe he always was.” Farouk-Melanie was far too effective an infiltrator of minds.

Legion significant music cues of the week: Radiohead’s heartbreaking “True Love Waits” during that opening montage of Syd’s feelings and plans regarding David, and “Ocean Size” by Jane’s Addiction during Kerry’s fight. Oh, and that song from Kerry and Syd’s showdown with the Minotaur is actually an original composition for the episode from composer Jeff Russo, “174 Hours.”

You know Farouk is truly evil because he sets a trap for Syd by running a metal hook through a living rabbit.

Melanie really gets her inner Valerie Solanas on during this episode. “You know what made me think of that? Men.”

Also, I believe this is the first time the title sobriquet has been uttered aloud on the series. “Legion—the world-killer.”

David already had real trouble dealing with Farouk before he got his body. Now that he has it, I’m guessing our troubled psychic might have a real fight for survival on his hands, let alone getting revenge on the Shadow King.