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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years ago

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THE WASTELAND - INTO THE DEEP, DARK THICK OF IT (11/?)

Hey, everyone! It's been literal weeks since I've posted anything, but I'm coming at you today with chapter 11 of THE WASTELAND, my @cssns 2020 fic! (With lovely cover art by @spartanguard and chapter art to follow!!!)

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY: In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

On AO3 (follow this link to get there!)

David pulls the map from the tree, holding it between his hands, and the rest of them crowd around him to look over his shoulder at it — except Emma, who keeps her distance. She doesn’t know if it’s from what happened in the Echo Caves or from finding half of their crew taken again, but she feels sick to her stomach, and taking slow, deep breaths is less than helpful in the thick, humid air of the Neverland forests.

But she is still close enough to hear their conversation:

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, Killian, but isn't that—" David says, only to be cut off prematurely by Killian.

"The Dark Jungle? Aye."

Mary Margaret tries next: "And that's where you told us—"

"Never to go? Uh-huh," he says bluntly.

"But this map is leading us—” Robin tries, but this time, David cuts him off.

"Directly into the middle of it."

“And we’re walking right into his trap?” Mary Margaret asks.

“I don’t really see another option, do you?” David asks, and Emma turns to them just in time to see Mary Margaret reach out and take David’s hand, sharing a small but obviously love-filled glance with him. Though she has seen it many times before, has been watching her two best friends share displays of affection for years now, this simple gesture makes her stomach turn again.

She didn’t know she was such a cynic. Sure, she’s been having sinking feelings about the validity of true love and things like that, but she never once imagined actually saying those things out loud.

To Killian. To a dying man who pretty much confessed his love to her.

But she did. She didn’t even know she felt that strongly about it until she was already spewing her secret in the Cave, but once the words were out, there was no way of taking them back. Maybe that was Pan’s plan all along, to cause a rift between just her and Killian, because it doesn’t seem to her like anyone else was as affected by the Echo Caves as they were.

Milah clears her throat, and they all seem to remember simultaneously that she is there. As the rest of the group turns towards her, Emma focuses on Killian, watching his face change as he looks at her. A rollercoaster of emotions crosses his face, his features softening before hardening again, as if remembering everything she told them in the Caves. “I’ve spent a lot of time on this island, and have learned some of the ways around. This map is sending you right through Pan’s camp, where all of his henchmen stay. It’s almost definitely a trap.”

With that, his features soften again. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long after Liam was killed and I thought they killed you. Pan offered me a life away from the War, and since that was all I ever wanted, I accepted before realizing it was a trap to keep me here.”

“That’s twelve years, Milah,” he whispers, and something in the way he says her name makes Emma’s heart stop — or so it feels like. Every inch of her is weighed down by it, by the incredible familiarity that every inch of him exudes. Milah hurt him so much, Emma could tell by his response to her in the Cave. She hurt him, yet he still seems to have feelings for her.

That’s what she wants, she realizes, standing there taking it all in. She knows she crossed a line, completely disregarded Killian’s feelings, and she wants to be forgiven. She wants to go back to how it was before they went into the damned Cave, before Pan pitted them against each other.

She only hopes it’s not too late.

“And how do we know that whatever way you take us isn’t also going to be a trap?” David asks, and Emma is glad that someone else feels a little leery trusting the woman who just revealed herself to be the mother of Prince Baelfire.

“I have no way of proving my allegiance to you,” she says. “Only that I have spent my time here — twelve years, if Killian is right, though it only feels like a few months — as Pan’s prisoner, and though time may flow differently here than in the regular places of the world, I have grown to hate him more with each day I have spent here. If I could do anything to get off this island, I will, but if defeating him is something that could happen in the process of that, I'll do whatever I can to help.”

David turns to Killian, who just shrugs. “What do you suggest we do?”

“It’s a bit of a more treacherous path, to be honest, but doesn’t cut through Pan’s camp. Hopefully we’ll run into less Lost Boys that way.”

“Lost Boys?” Mary Margaret asks.

Milah nods. “That’s what they call themselves. Or what Pan calls them, I’m not sure who started it. I’ve always felt that they were trapped on this island like I am, but I have no way of proving it. All the ones I’ve been able to talk to seem pretty content to be here.”

They stay silent for a moment, shifting their packs on their backs, until finally, Killian says, “Well, let’s go, we’re wasting daylight,” before gesturing for Milah to take the lead and following behind her.

Robin and Mary Margaret take off after them, but Emma pulls David back, keeping a few steps behind them all and out of earshot.

“Do you really trust this woman?”

“No,” he says, keeping his gaze on the woods in front of them. “But the way I see it, I don’t really have another choice, do I?”

Emma shrugs. “I just… have a bad feeling about all of this,” she says, pulling down her ponytail to put it back up and keep the flyaways out of her face as best she can. She's never been to a place as humid as Neverland, and while she was never one to give much care to the state of her hair, she has been finding it much harder to deal with over the last few days.

“So do I,” he says. “I’ve had a bad feeling about all of this, since that first day when you called me from the hospital. But if listening to this woman — to Prince Baelfire’s mother — is the best chance we have for saving Killian’s life, then who am I to fight it?”

“You do have a pretty good track record for trusting those you probably shouldn’t,” she jokes, knocking her shoulder into his.

He chuckles. “That I do.”

"And who do we have here?" King George leers, glaring down at her from his throne. For the first time since he sat down beside his father earlier that morning, David feels pulled to look up.

He had no idea what to expect, but a girl no more than twelve or thirteen, kneeling on the marble-tiled floor between two armor-clad guards, is certainly not it, though that's what he finds. Though each of their hands extend far past the end of the girl's shoulders, they seem to be pushing her into the ground much harder than David feels is necessary.

She says nothing, only spits on the floor in front of her. He doesn't blame her, really; just by the looks of her, he can tell that her life has been nothing like his own, that she has spent most of her life living on the streets.

The streets of his kingdom. Or, what will be his kingdom one day. He’s thought about the people who are lesser off than he is, thought about those who don’t live the kind of privileged life that’s been handed to him — but, somehow, these thoughts have never included the idea that people his age could be living on the streets.

Right here, with this girl right in front of him, it hits him a little too hard in the face. A tremor quakes through his body.

“Tell me your name, girl,” his father demands, but all she does is glare at him — at them, together on the throne.

“We found her in the royal gardens, your majesty. Trying to steal food,” one of the guards says, his gloved hand flexing against her shoulder as it keeps her on her knees.

“Stealing from me, eh? Do you know what the punishment for that is?”

“Father, you can’t,” David says, surprising himself more than anyone else.

This time, King George’s glare is directed at him. “Excuse me?”

David clears his throat, gulps, trying to hide his embarrassment, his nervousness. “The least you could do is cut her a break. She doesn’t deserve to go to the dungeon.”

“She stole from me, David. From us, from the royal garden. The penalty is a night in the dungeon, no matter who you are.”

“Just look at her.”

King George turns away from his son to look back at the girl kneeling on the floor in front of them. For a moment, he is silent, his arms crossed over his chest, before turning back to David. “Okay, fine. What would you do, son?”

David sits up a little straighter, running his fingers through his hair, if only to try to get ahold of himself. “The first thing I would do would be to offer her a meal.” Though King George’s eyes are on David, the prince is watching the young girl, who looks up at him when he says this. “She’s obviously hungry, or she wouldn’t be stealing from the royal gardens. Gods know we have more than enough food.”

King George nods, looking back at the girl for a moment. “And then?”

“Why take any more action? There was no malicious intent. It’s our job to take care of our people, not throw the hungry ones in prison.”

King George smiles at his son, and for a moment, he feels hope. Maybe, just maybe, his father will see the truth in what he is saying, will be fair for the first time in his life.

But then he stands up, wiping his hands on his black dress pants. “And that’s why you’re not king yet.” He turns to the guards. “Take her to the dungeons. And give her a piece of bread or something, I suppose.”

Before David can say a word, King George turns on his heel and walks out of the throne room. As the girl is hauled back to her feet, David tries his best to give her a look filled with sympathy, but he has no idea if she took it that way.

One day, he’s going to be a benevolent king. One day, none of his people will go hungry, and they will certainly not be sent to the dungeons just for trying to get a bite to eat. For now, though, maybe all he can do is be nice to this one, single young woman. It really is the least he can do.

He waits until he is no longer under the watchful supervision of his father, until he has finished the rest of his duties for the day, but then he makes his way down to the kitchens.

“Hey, Granny,” he says, knocking on the door to the kitchen, though it already stands open. He knows the woman has another name, must have been told of it at some point, but everyone just calls her Granny — except his father, who refers to her only as “the cook,” even to her face. In reality, though, she is much more than that. Though she does not technically run their household, she does most of the work related to it, from running the kitchens to making sure the maids and servants do their jobs as they should. David knows the household would fall apart without her, and therefore always offers her a smile when he finds himself down in the kitchens, or when he runs into her in other parts of the palace.

“Good evening, your highness,” she says, turning her attention to him for only a moment before turning her attention back to the pot in front of her on the stove. As always, she is stoic, unsmiling, but he has learned that is just how she is, and not to take offense of it, even when the rest of their staff always manage a smile in his direction — and a fake one when his father is around.

It’s no secret that the household staff prefer the prince over his father. Sometimes they even whisper amongst themselves about how someone as rude as King George could have raised a son like David, who has grown into a polite and understanding young man.

“What brings you down here this evening?”

“My father threw a young woman in the dungeons earlier for stealing from the palace gardens, and I would like to make sure she gets a nice, hot meal.”

This pulls one of the very rare smiles across Granny’s face as she puts down her spoon and wipes her hands on her apron. “Gods bless you, sire.”

“It really is the least I could do,” he says, leaning back against the doorway, his eyes watching the old woman puttering around the room but the rest of him unmoving. “I tried to talk my father into letting her go — all she wanted was a meal — but he threw her in the dungeons nonetheless.”

“I was a little girl when your grandfather was king,” she says, adding a few pieces of bread to the tray. “And have lived most of my life in this palace, seeing firsthand how the citizens of the Gale have been treated.” When she turns to look at the prince, his eyes have fallen to the floor, so she takes the tray in her hands and stands before him with it, waiting for him to look up at her. “I’ve been waiting for a ruler like you my whole life, your highness. I only hope that I shall live to see you take your father’s place on the throne.”

He smiles at the woman, taking the tray of food out of her hands. “The rumor around here is that you’re never going to die,” he says with a wink, then turns and leaves the kitchen, another small smile spreading across the old woman’s face as she shakes her head.

He’s happy to see that the guards placed her in the first cell, the one that gets the most light during the day through the old iron gate at the top of the stairs. She is sitting alone in the corner, as far from the door as she can get, and her eyes follow him in what’s left of the light as he walks the few paces down the hallway to reach the door of her cell.

Neither of them speak, even as he sets the tray of food down on the ground and pushes it through the slot at the bottom of the cell. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, running his index finger along one of the cold iron bars, but then he sits down on the floor, his back against the bars, facing away from her. He wasn’t planning on staying, certainly wasn’t planning on making conversation with her, but there are words coming from his mouth before he can stop them. “My father is an unjust ruler, but there’s not much I can do about it for now. All I can do is go behind his back and try to be the kind of king I want to be someday when he’s not looking. Today was the first time he even asked for my opinion on something, but certainly not the first time I’ve spoken out to him about it, though you saw how he responded to it.” He doesn’t dare to turn his head towards her, but out of the corner of his eye, he notices that she’s slowly moving towards the tray of food, taking the sandwich off the tray. “I’m sorry for the way my father treated you today. I would really — I would like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

Her voice is soft, but still the fact that she speaks startles David a bit. “You have helped me already.”

David smiles, fully turning to her and happy to see she has accepted the food he brought as she takes a bite of the sandwich. “I mean once you’re out from behind these bars.”

“What do you think you could do for me?” There is spite in her voice again, spite that must come from years of being on her own and learning not to trust anyone, David realizes, but does not want to push her to the point where she thinks he is overdoing it.

He turns away from her again, hoping to keep her trust. “If you’ll allow me — and if you would like — I can try to get you a job working for someone at the palace. I could at least promise you a meal or two a day, though I may also be able to find you a place to stay, depending on what you would be willing to do.”

For a while, she is silent, slowly eating the sandwich before she begins picking at the pile of grapes. “What would I have to do to have a place to stay?” Her voice is small, showing David a side of her that he doesn’t think very many people get to see, a vulnerability that he can tell she has learned to hide under a thick skin.

“Have you discovered any powers yet?” He’s not sure how old she is, if he has become of age for her abilities to begin to show themselves.

“No, not — not yet.”

“And what about your parents? Did they have powers?”

“I… never knew my parents. I was left on the steps of one of the temples when I was just a few days old.”

He’s quiet for another few moments, thinking about it all. “I think the palace healers are searching for an apprentice, actually. I’ll go check with them this evening and come back in the morning to free you and see what I’ve come up with.”

He stands to leave, not expecting anything else from her, so when he hears a very quiet “thank you” come from behind him, he can’t stop himself from turning back towards her, though he has nothing to say.

“Why did you help me?” she asks, and he backtracks the three steps he’s taken away from her cell.

“I would like to be the kind of leader who helps as many people as I can, and it’s never too early to start.”

“You’re a good man, your highness.”

“David. Please, just call me David.” He wants to ask the question that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he’s also afraid to; he knows that sometimes orphans are left without a name, but he feels a deep calling to befriend this small, blonde girl currently sitting in his father’s dungeons. So he asks it anyway: “Would you like to tell me your name?”

They share a smile. In this moment, Emma decides on a surname for the first time in her life. “Emma. Emma Swan. And thank you… David.”

“Can we stop for a minute?” Mary Margaret asks, leaning against a tree right off the path. “Please?”

None of them refuse. Killian even looks a little relieved, though he tries to hide his face from them as he digs through his pack, searching for snacks. Most of them dive straight into their supplies, searching for something, since Emma hasn’t yet honed the ability to conjure food like Belle and Merlin have — though, thankfully, most of them still have a fair amount of the food they packed in the first place because of the powers of their more magic-inclined friends.

Water, however, she is more than able to conjure, filling everyone’s canteens and bottles as they pass them to her — even with Milah insisting that the water on the island is more than safe.

"We don't want to take any unnecessary chances," David explains, handing Mary Margaret her bottle back. "Especially since we are no longer following the map Pan gave us. Who knows what kind of tricks he still has for us."

Killian, though he doesn’t seem to be listening to their conversation, has pulled the map out of his back pocket and has spread it across his legs, his attention on it instead the rest of the group. But his mind is very, very far away, the same place it has been for the last few hours, save when he has needed to point out something along the trail.

He's torn. Torn between the choices lying before him, and torn apart by everything that has been thrown at him recently. He never imagined he would see Milah again, especially never imagined that he would have to choose between two women with Milah being one of them. Part of him — most of him, if he’s honest with himself — doesn’t know if he can even trust her, knowing what he learned in the Cave. The mother of the man that has become his enemy, the man who killed his brother and tortured him.

And then there’s Emma. Days ago, even hours ago, he thought he was in love with her. His only question was whether or not he was going to make it off this island, whether he would have the chance to spend some of his life beside her.

But now he knows their connection is fake — or, Emma believes it’s fake. Killian realizes, looking across the path to where she is sitting against a tree, her eyes shut, that, to him, it doesn’t even matter. Magic or not, prophecy or not, he’s in love with her.

Turning to Milah, he finds himself surprised by his lack of feeling for her, even as she smiles warmly at him. A smile that he has missed so much over the last twelve years, a smile he never thought he would see again. Still, he feels nothing. Not even hatred, not anger — just… nothing.

Well, there’s his decision then. He’s not sure that he will ever get past Emma’s disdain towards their connection, but he at least knows that she is the one he chooses.

If he makes it off this island.

A twig snaps behind David, bringing up the rear of the group, and he cannot quite move fast enough to simultaneously whip around and pull his pistol from the waistband of his jeans, calling for Emma's attention. At the last moment, he watches as the young boy that has appeared behind him knocks an arrow on his obviously-homemade bow, and he readies himself for the impact of the crude arrow into his flesh, his finger unable to pull the trigger with an enemy who looks so young.

But the impact never comes. When he opens his eyes, Emma is standing in front of him, her hands out before her — and the hazy waves emitting from them are holding the arrow, mid-flight, in the air between them.

Suddenly, a battle cry sounds in the forest around them, other young boys armed with spears and arrows (and David even thinks he sees a slingshot) appear from behind the trees.

Their group stands unmoving, though their weapons are drawn, as the boys start to move around them, none of them able to bring themselves to fire their weapons at an enemy that looks so much like young boys.

"They're enchanted, I told you this!" Milah cries, the only one of them unarmed, and she tries to cower behind Robin, who is having none of it. "They look like boys, but they're not!"

Another one, this one significantly taller and older-looking, pushes through the trees, the smile on his face somehow calling attention to the large scar that runs down his cheek. "And I can assure you that nothing will hold us back from killing you."

This is apparently the push Robin needs to act, and he releases an arrow at one of the closest of Pan's followers, catching the arm of his jacket and pinning it against the tree. He and Mary Margaret continue with this approach, successfully taking four of the boys out of battle, but it's almost as if they're immediately replaced with four more.

And each of them are looking towards the tall boy with the scar for their orders.

When Emma realizes this, she focuses all of her energy on him, though it takes all of the concentration she has to try to hold him still, her powers in battle still very new to her.

They're still afraid to act, even as the boys begin loosing arrows in their direction. When Emma realizes that freezing their leader isn't helping, she releases him, trying to find somewhere better to focus her powers — and she finds it in a protective barrier around them, stopping many of the boys' arrows.

But not all of them. Just as Emma begins to feel more confident in her abilities, she senses something came through anyway, and it almost breaks her concentration to turn her head for a moment in the direction she thought she felt it.

She wishes she hadn't, though, because all she finds is Robin laying on the ground, the twig-end of one of the boy's crude arrows sticking out of the flesh of his thigh.

"I can help!" she says, but the rest of the group seems to shout No! at the same time, and Milah kneels beside him.

“Can’t you do something… more?” David asks, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“I’m doing the best I can here.”

“You’re doing great, love,” Killian mutters from beside her, bumping his shoulder into hers, then fires a shot at one of the boys, the first shot fired from any of their pistols. It just hits the side of the boy's leg, and he falls to the ground gripping it — but the rest of the boy's stop in their tracks, eyes wide and directed at Killian.

Silence has fallen around them.

"What is that?" the oldest of them, the one with the scar, asks, staring at the pistol in Killian's hand.

It never occurred to them that the Lost Boys haven't seen newer, updated weapons. It never occurred to most of them that Pan would have boys on the island who can't age, who have been stuck here for gods know how long.

"It's a pistol, you dunce," another of them says, aiming his bow once more —

— and, somehow, Emma is overcome by a surge of power, emitted from her hands in a blinding flash of white light, sending all of the Lost Boys flying backwards and knocking many of them unconscious.

"Bloody brilliant, love," Killian mumbles, knocking against her shoulder again as he returns his pistol to the holster.

Emma whips around, first towards Robin before realizing that David has also come out of the battle wounded.

"Alright," she says, helping David sit against a tree, her hand pressed against the scrape on the side of his ribs. "Am I allowed to help now?"

She tries to smile at David, but it doesn't really take — and David certainly doesn't return it.

Because when she lifts his shirt, the gash on his ribs has already started turning black. She glances over her shoulder, searching for him, but she knows he is seeing the same that she is.

"Dreamshade," Killian mumbles, kneeling beside her on the ground. "What bloody luck."

#captain swan #cs ff #wordsbymeganmichael #my writing #the wasteland #sorry tumblr sucks #and sorry theres no cut bc apparently you cant do that on mobile anymore #anyway heres chapter 11 #that i thought i posted but apparently did not #which was like a late christmas present to me #since i was stressin over ch 12

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theultimateegghead-blog · 6 years ago

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Buggers, some creepy crawlies in video games!

Insects, love them or hate them, they are a part of live that almost everyone needs to deal with. Video games are no escape from this, as these critters have hooped, skittered and darted into many games. Also, even though they aren’t technically bugs, expect some eight-legged freaks to pop up as well. So grab your bug spray, grab your swatter, here are some insects in video games. Fair warning, if bugs really get to you, if seeing them can cause anxiety or panic, then skip this list. It’s ok I don’t blame you, bugs horrify me.

Bug type Pokemon (Pokemon) Bug type pokemon, there are too many to include just one. The bug type is realistically not that great of a type, it isn’t very strong and has many weaknesses. However, we have all had a bug type on our team before, they can be good early to mid-game, and even all the way to the champ if you know what your doing. They level up and evolve quickly and are some of the first pokemon you’ll encounter that can use status effect moves. Some bug types can actually be heavy hitters and worth the investment, and now there are even legendary bug types. So don’t put this typing down just cause it isn’t as strong as other types, bug types have a bit to offer! My personal favorite bug types by generation are… Beedrill, Scizor, Ninjask, Yanmega, Leaveany and good old Buzzwole.

The centipede (Centipede) One of the first bugs in video games, lets sing its praise. The centipede is simple, it crawls down the screen and the player have to shoot it into pieces before it reaches the bottom. The mushrooms will block your shot so you have to align them well to defeat the monster bug. Other than that it serves no lore or greater meaning behind its existence, its just a big centipede, simple as that.

Wigglers (Super Mario Bros) Wigglers are, more often than not, peaceful creatures that walk around in a state of ignorant bliss. They often wont react at all if jumped on and will continue on their merry way. Now if you jump on their head your in for a bad time, as they will fly into a rage and dash around in a crimson fury. It is often the best option to just avoid this creature if you don’t want to get hurt.

Caterkiller (Sonic Series) This is technically cheating since it’s a robot. The caterkiller takes on the form of a caterpillar and it just slowly moves along the ground. This creature is best to just avoid, since jumping on it often results in taking damage. The rule is to aim for the head and not any other part. In some games these things can be giant, reminiscent of a sandworm. Overall they are one of the most famous badniks in the Sonic series.

Flourescent Flower (Bloodborne) This beast is a horrifying eldritch abomination. It is a weird mixture of a plant, a centipede and a horrendous gaping maw. The creature has slow turning and is overall not to hard to defeat provided you are not standing in front of it. It attacks primarily with projectiles and can take quite a few hits to defeat. In the main game, they are rare enemies only appearing in one place that you will rarely revisit. They are more common however inside chalice dungeons.

Roolie (Bugdom) A nice little pill bug. This bug is the main character of the obscure yet cherished pc game Bugdom. Roolie must run, roll and kick his way through several levels in a quest to save his kingdom from an evil fire ant army. Roolie is a brave little bug who is up against tons of odd, including bruiser bees, horrifying spiders and even giant feet that want to crush him. However, he perseveres in his quest to save his kingdom and rescue the lady bug inhabitants.

Seltas Family (Monster Hunter) This monster family has two members, the standard Seltas and the queen. Lets cover the Seltas first. This relatively large monster is an airborne menace that likes to dart and fly out of range on the hunters weaponry. They have weak underbellies and are vulnerable to fire. The seltas will try to ram you with its horn, spit acid at you and swipe at you. If you managed to slay it, you can reap the rewards and make some armor. Now for the queen. The Seltas queen is always seen with a normal seltas, the queen is not airborne but can be carried by its underling. When alone she primarily fights with her tail and uses pheromones to call for help. These two make a deadly duo in combat.

Bugzzy (Kirby Series) A recurring mini boss in the Kirby Series. This martial artist beetle can grapple the pink puff ball with his massive pincers and slam him down or throw him. He can summon other bugs to help him if he cant grab Kirby himself. Inhaling him grants Kirby some new fighting moves, and in some games you can even convert him into an ally.

Zingers (Donkey Kong Country) One of the most common enemies in the Donkey Kong series. The Zingers are large wasp that are covered in spikes, due to these spikes they cannot be jumped on. The only way to defeat a Zinger is to throw something at it or have an animal friend dispatch it. They come in different colors, each one flies in a different pattern. They love to hover around barrels and can make barrel blast jumps tricky. What’s worse is that at one point you need to venture into one of their hives.

Giant Wasp (Earth Defense Force) These guys represent the horrors that is a wasp. Fast, aggressive and intimidatingly large. These wasp dart around at high speeds and shoot projectiles at you. Since they are airborne it can be a bit tricky to take them down, as they are quite mobile. They have a bit of health too and sometimes attack in swarms or in unison with other insects. Eventually you’ll come across giant metal versions that are even faster and more dangerous than before. These guys are among some of the most annoying enemies in insect Armageddon.

Queen Bee (Terraria) Deep in the underground jungle, you can find a beehive…Inside this beehive you can find an odd looking larvae, destroy it and prepare to meet the wrath of the queen bee. The queen bee is a very fast boss with a plethora of attacks. She has a good amount of health and the honey in the hive can hinder your movement. Do not try to fight this thing until your prepared and bring a ranged weapon! After you defeat her, you can revel in the spoils, as she drops some pretty good things. Also you get the witch doctor npc as a reward for slaying this giant bee.

Antlions (Half Life 2) Antlions are very aggressive creatures in the Half Life universe. They burrow under sandy areas and can react to surface tremors. Their nest are large and expansive. They come in five primary forms. The standard drone, which can attack in swarms, they have some flight capacity, so don’t think escaping will be easy. These drones are the most common. Next is the grey workers, they tend to not leave the nest and will spit acid at Gordan upon seeing him, they are physically weaker than the standard drone. The worm like grubs are defenseless and stick to the walls, ceiling and floors of the hive, waiting for the day they become a more capable threat. The red soldier is a ferocious large beast that is very aggressive and serves as a mini-boss of sorts, it can take a lot of punishment before going down. Finally the guardian is a soldier that guards the nest, it is very ferocious and very powerful and is best avoided.

Fire Ants (Fallout 3) The wasteland is full of nasties, these buggers are among some of the worst the waste has to offer. In Fallout three, they were born out of a twisted experiment that turned a colony of ants into giant fire breathing monsters. A nearby town was destroyed by this swarm of monsters and its up to the lone wanderer to clear the place out. These monsters are perceptive, fast and deadly. Since the quest that involves them appears early in the game they can be a brick wall that takes a while to overcome. So stay on your toes and keep your gun ready and steady. Beware, for this swarm has a queen…

Frostbite Spiders (Skyrim) Do you hate spiders? I hate spiders, they are freaky and just instantly cause panic in me. Video games know arachnophobia is a legit thing, and they cash in on this bad. Get ready for some spiders, starting with the frostbite spider. These spiders make their home in many caves and some outside areas in Skyrim. They can spit venom at their foes, and can ambush people from above if they dare venture into a spider infested area. These creatures can vary in size, with some being the size of a pig to others being the size of a small house! Fire spells dispatch them pretty quickly, they seem more resistant to cold, hence their name. Try to keep an eye out for these nasties when exploring the Rift, cause they tend to pop up there often.

Cave Spiders (Minecraft) Regular spiders are bad enough in Minecraft. Spiders can crawl up vertical walls, crawl under one block openings and have a dangerous jump attack. They don’t despawn during the day either, even though they cease being hostile in the daylight. The cave spider is everything that makes a spider bad and more. The cave spider is smaller and thus harder to hit, they can inflict deadly poison on you and they tend to come from spawners. They crawl towards you in narrow corridors filled with webs, now the webs only slow you down, not them. If you decide to go deep into a mine shaft in hopes of finding rare minerals or a fortress, be ready to fight these guys.

Black Tigers (Resident Evil) The Spencer Mansion and Raccoon city have a giant spider problem for sure, but one of the biggest of the bunch is the Black Tiger. This monster made its home underground and waits for unfortunate prey to stumble into its domain. It can spit acid and give a nasty bite… What’s worse is that it might have a buddy with it. After some shotgun blast to the face it will go belly up… And proceeds to spit out baby giant spiders, an arachnophobes nightmare.

Muffet (Undertale) Who said spiders couldn’t be cute? Or sell baked goods for that matter? Muffet is both of these. She initially appears at a bake sale, selling various pastries at extremely high prices. Normally a player will not buy these items. Later, the player is forced to battle her, as she was hired by Mettaton to take you out. During the battle she will trap you in her web and send her pets at you. Survive long enough and she will receive a telegram showcasing that you either supported the spider bake sale in the ruins, or you avoided stepping on any spiders. She will let you go after this ‘misunderstanding’ comes to a close. Alternatively, you can show her your love…but you wouldn’t do that, now would you?

Phantom (Devil May Cry) A big nasty from the Devil May Cry series. This demon takes on the form of a giant lava spider and attacks Dante numerous times. He serves as the first boss and is a challenging one at that. Later on, he will attack Dante and switch to a form similar to a scorpion. This spider is arrogant and boastful of its power but is squashed by Dante. In Devil May Cry 2, he comes back for a rematch. He presumably escaped the dark pit he was sent to, only to be sent falling back into it.

Skulltula (Zelda Series) The giant spiders of the Zelda series. These monsters have a skull like design on its back and are nasty creature to come face to face with. They vary in size, from the size of a turtle to the size of a human child. These baddies usually stay attached to walls or suspended on a vine. However they will craw around if need be and can entangle their foe. These guy’s shells are tough and most attacks to the front wont harm the bigger ones, their belly is their weak point, though arrows help too. There exist a rare golden variety capable of inflicting horrible curses upon the greedy.

The Stygian (Darksiders) Of course there was going to be a giant worm on the list. The Stygian is a colossal sand worm that can swallow War whole. Due to its tremendous speed and size, War must ride his horse to do combat with the creature. These monster serves as one of the bosses od the original Darksiders and would do battle with War in a massive arena. Initially its mouth is closed, but its mouth is its weak point so War will have to break it open, during the fight, smaller worms may come to assist it. Upon its defeat, War enters its body and rips out its oddly small heart.

Undeep (Lost Planet) From sand to Snow, the Undeep is a huge monster encountered in Lost Planet. It is fought relatively early in the game and serves as a warning to new players to choose their battles. This creature can be avoided, and it is recommended to do so. However, a skilled tactical player can take the beast down and revel in the victory. This worm is massive and can very easily crush the player under its mass. This worm would reappear in future installments as a boss as well, however in those games your more well suited to take it down.

Earthworm Jim (Earthworm Jim series) Not every worm is hungry for flesh and is the size of a football stadium! This groovy worm is simply put…just a normal cartoon earthworm. What makes him special is his state of the art space suit. Armed with a energy gun, Jim makes his way through many crazy levels, avoiding deadly traps and fighting colorful villains in order to rescue Princess what’s her name. Jim can use his body as a lasso and a helicopter to navigate levels. Jim was rather prolific in the 90s, starring in 3 games and having his own cartoon series. Sadly, his third game was a bad 3D game that doomed him to the back shelf.

The Knight (Hollow Knight) I figured I would end this list with something cute. The knight is a member of the void race. The knight is a gender-less hero that fights with a nail. Over the course of the game, the knight will learn many powers and spells to aid it in combat. The knight can heal itself with its soul. The knight will encounter many hardships over its journey through its world.

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Wow! This was my longest list yet! Congrats on making it to the end. Tune in next time when we look at some nice beach themed levels!

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themarginalartist · 6 years ago

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Amelia and the Nutcracker

Chapter 1

Welcome to the beginning of whatever this is? We’ll see if I write more of it or not, idk, but without further ado:

What better place to start than the beginning?

Amelia was only four when she lost her older brother, not that she really had any memories of him, only a vague feeling of loneliness permeated her being when she tried to remember him. Her parents had never quite gotten over the loss of their son. Not that they neglected her in any way, but she knew when her mom would stare out the window as the snow fell in early December that she was mourning him still. Her father would withdraw to his study during the first snowfall as well. Neither would open up about him. Amelia didn’t even know his name!

When she’d turned fifteen a fire engulfed her home. She was still at boarding school, counting down the days until holiday break when she got the news. Her parents had not made it out in time. Her uncle became her guardian after that. He was a reserved man, keeping many secrets about his life, getting a nanny for her when he went away on business trips to undisclosed locations, and forbidding her from entering his private room upstairs.

It was the second week of December. The first snow had come during the night leaving a white landscape glittering in the morning light. Amelia slowly shuffled through her morning routine, eventually making her way downstairs to eat breakfast with her uncle.

“Good morning uncle.”

“Amelia.” He treated curtly from behind the newspaper, he soon finished his article, giving her his full attention. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I had quite a strange dream however.” She replied as she filled her bowl with cereal.

“What made it strange?” His question caused her to look at him, he’d never asked about her dreams before.

“Well,” She started slowly, “I was in a strange world. The plants weren’t real, like they were made of plastic. And there was a river that seemed to be a river of some kind of juice not water. The buildings were made from LEGO bricks.” He nodded as she spoke. “Though I think the strangest thing about this world was it’s inhabitants.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, they were all toys. They all moved and spoke and played and worked on their own! It was quite interesting I wish I’d seen more but I woke up.” Amelia frowned a little. It had been such a weird dream, she didn’t quite know what had prompted it.

“Quite strange indeed...” Her uncle got a strange look in his eye before it quickly disappeared. “When you are ready for the day we are going into town to run some errands.”

“Yes uncle.” She nodded finishing her breakfast, not noticing the way her uncle stared at her for a long moment before returning to his paper while she ate.

The snow had begun to fall again as they walked back to her uncle’s home. The only sound was the gentle crunching of the snow underfoot. The house was in view now.

“Amelia,” Her uncle started breaking the silence, “if you have another dream like the one you had last night would you please tell me?”

“Yes uncle, but if I may ask… Why do you want me to tell you?”

“I simply found your dream to be quite interesting, you have quite the imagination my dear.” He smiled. Amelia didn’t quite buy it, but let it go for now.

The rest of the day progressed quite normally from there. Her uncle had excused himself to his private room and she had curled up in one of the chairs next to the fireplace in the small living room. She had pulled one of the many books down from a shelf in order to entertain herself until dinner time. Though it wasn’t long until her eyelids drooped, the quiet and warmth lulling her to sleep.

Amelia awoke to sunshine hitting her face, though it lacked warmth. Sitting upright and rubbing at her eye she stared down from the top of the hill to a town made of lego bricks.

“So I’m here again…” She sat up and stretched before beginning to head towards the village. There were an assortment of toy people milling around working on different tasks. A Raggedy Anne style doll spotted her and waved.

“Hello! You seem a bit lost! Can I help you?” She smiled brightly.

“Do you mind telling me where I am? My name is Amelia.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Annie. We’re in Brickington! It’s one of the towns on the far edge of the Toy Kingdom.” Annie explained.

“The Toy Kingdom?”

“Yes silly! Where are you from? Obviously you’re not from here or you’d know that!”

“I live in a town called Breckenridge, I don’t think I can quite explain to you where exactly it is without a map though.” Amelia gave Annie an apologetic smile.

“That’s alright!” Annie easily accepted her response. “The Toy kingdom is one of five kingdoms of the land of Lunalore. There’s also the Candy Kingdom, the Kingdom of Snow, the Kingdom of Flowers, and the Wastelands.” Annie shuddered upon mentioning the last kingdom.

“The Wastelands?”

“It’s a terrible place, ruled by the evil Mouse King! You shouldn’t go there!” Annie trembled.

“I promise that it does not sound like somewhere I would go!” Amelia tried placating Annie. “Thank you for telling me all this.”

“You’re welcome! You know… You seem oddly familiar? Do you have any siblings or something?” Amelia frowned at Annie’s question.

“Not anymore…”

“Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories!” Annie put a mitten hand over her mouth.

“It’s alright.” Amelia sighed. “I don’t remember much of him, he passed when I was very little.” Annie placed a hand on Amelia’s arm.

“I’m so sorry…” Annie was silent for a moment before returning to her thoughts. “OH! I know! You remind me of Cecil! I think it’s your eyes! They’re almost the same shade of blue!” Annie smiled brightly.

“Cecil?”

Amelia.

“Yeah he’s one of the soldiers!”

Amelia wake up.

“He’s a-“

“Amelia, it’s time for dinner.” Her uncle leaned over her, gently shaking her arm.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off.” Amelia stretched out her legs, covering a yawn with her hand.

“It’s quite alright dear.” He gave her a gentle smile.

“Uncle you’ll never believe the dream I just had.” Amelia began to explain the second dream to her uncle, who had quite a serious face that she did not catch as he followed her into the dining room.

#The Nutcracker #nutcracker oc #my writing

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iturbide · 7 years ago

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Honestly, bless you and your writing! Quality content fadgsaffsg-- But what if something super bad happened? Like the summoner somehow got captured by maybe Muspell (Surtr?) ovo I'm imagining the reasoning could be something like 'Askr is nothing without their precious summoner. Watch as their mockery of a kingdom falls apart even before I raze it to the ground.' kinda deal? How would Grima (and the whole castle by proxy I suppose) react? :>

quality content I am so flattered okay i’m still screaming about this

but okay you see this

this prompt

this set my brain on fire

so please forgive me for the fact that this monster is literally 6,500 words long and clocks in at a full 18 pages

If you’ve read anything else of mine that exceeds a thousand words, I like to change perspective sometimes. For ease of understanding, asterisks (*) represent a perspective shift, dashes (-) represent a scene shift. The first bit is there as a teaser, the part below the cut is significantly larger, you have been warned.

Kiran was fairly certain by now that combat would never become familiar. Nothing in their prior life could have prepared them for this, and even with as many fights as they’d seen (and between the conflict with first Embla, now Múspell, and all of the battles waged for practice in the Training Tower or sport in the Arena, they had seen a lot), it never really felt natural or right, sending soldiers – friends – onto the field to fight and bleed and sometimes fall for the Askran cause.

Perhaps it was good that war did not sit well with them. But regardless of their feelings, they had a job to do here, and they intended to do it well. Anything to keep Askr from becoming a mirror of Nifl’s scorched wasteland: the further they traveled, the more wreckage they encountered, empty towns covered in snow that could not hide the burned remains of what had once been thriving communities.

As they continued their trek toward Nifl’s former capital, the Askran forces had run afoul of Múspell soldiers camped in one of the ruined villages. Tagging Ike, they glanced briefly at his health, winced, and instead sent Lissa to heal him before ordering the young mercenary into a green mage’s line of fire. Robin moved to intercept a mounted archer encroaching on their flank, sending a conspiracy of magic ravens tearing through the bowman’s defenses, while overhead a six-winged dragon banked slowly over the battle, awaiting his next command.

“We might need to retreat,” Kiran muttered as enemy reinforcements appeared upfield, well beyond their line of sight but easily tracked by the tactical map piped into their phone. The axe fighter and the red manakete wouldn’t be so bad, with Alphonse and Sharena to intercept them, but the cavalier with the firesweep lance was another matter…

“The situation hardly seems so dire.”

The Summoner looked up at the hooded figure leaning over their shoulder, a wry smile twitching across their face. “When did you take over as the Order’s tactician?”

Grima rolled his eyes, keeping easy pace with the Kiran as they picked their way through the remnants of the village square. Several of the houses beyond remained more or less intact: the narrow streets would afford them a good choke point to deal with additional reinforcements, provided they could keep their ranks in order. Humming thoughtfully to themselves as they climbed the steps of an abandoned home, Kiran drew the Askran fighters one by one across the on-screen grid, casting a quick glance back the way they’d come to see faintly glowing marks on the ground leading into the plaza. They still had no idea what Breidablik had done to their phone, but it had certainly been effective.

“Incoming,” the Summoner noted, listening to the approaching hoofbeats. “You ready?”

The fell dragon grinned, violet flames licking at his boots. “Always,” he chuckled. Though they both knew it wasn’t necessary, Kiran still moved Grima’s icon down the street as he advanced, the great six-winged form overhead descending to attack. More reinforcements had appeared around the square, and the Summoner bit their lip as they sized up the new opposition, attempting to suss out the least risky solution to their predicament. Tapping a few troops experimentally, Kiran gauged their chances…and, satisfied that they could pull off a defensive ploy, moved their allies one by one to engage the newly summoned soldiers, grinning as the blinding glow from Alphonse’s Sol momentarily brightened the overcast afternoon. Grima’s dragon form screeched as an axe fighter filled the position occupied by the now fallen cavalryman, and the Summoner glanced briefly at the screen…only to chuckle at the damage predictor’s single-digit output. Even with two hits, there was no chance they could take down the Wings of Despair. Maybe they had been too hasty, considering retreat–

“Hello, Summoner.”

Kiran froze.

They hadn’t heard movement in the building behind them. Hadn’t even considered that someone might be in there waiting – which was foolish, given the hard lesson they’d learned combatting the Black Knight not so long ago. But they slowly raised their hands in the universal gesture of peaceful submission, taking great care not to disturb the blade pressed to their neck.

“Hello,” the Summoner replied, grateful that their voice did not quake the way the rest of them did. “It’s Laegjarn, right?”

“I’m flattered that you recall my name,” the general chuckled. “Perhaps you also recall my offer.”

“Surrender quietly and you won’t hurt me?”

“Your memory serves you well. What say you?”

Kiran swallowed, feeling the sword’s edge burn their throat. With the fight still raging out of sight in the plaza and Grima’s attention focused on the wyvern rider flying into range, no one had seen the enemy under their noses. No help was coming.

Some tactician they turned out to be.

“I submit.”

“Very good. Please disarm, Summoner.”

The blade at their throat relaxed an inch. Nodding slightly, Kiran removed Breidablik from its place on their hip, kneeling to lay it on the stoop alongside their phone…

…and as they lingered, casting one last pleading look toward the fell dragon, they cranked the volume up to the max. The music barely even reached their own ears over the pounding of their heart, and the general made no remark on it as the Summoner straightened.

“Thank you for being so cooperative,” Laegjarn remarked, taking hold of Kiran’s arm and pulling them into the shadows of the scorched house. The back half had collapsed, blackened beams jutting from the ash; the Múspell general paid the wreckage no mind as she guided them out onto the next road and past a fresh wave of soldiers. “Retreat,” she ordered. “We have what we came for.”

The troops pulled back from the village with shocking speed. The Askran forces remained, perhaps confused by the swift turn of the tides, perhaps elated at their victory. Kiran did not know. They could only wonder what the Heroes would feel when they realized what they’d lost.

***

Grima frowned as the Múspell soldiers withdrew. “Barely a challenge,” he snorted.

Something’s strange.

“I’m inclined to agree, given how fierce these forces are said to be–”

We were outnumbered. There were still reinforcements coming in. Why did they retreat?

He glanced up at the dragon floating lazily overhead.

A wyvern rider tried to stab you in the face. I don’t think the dragon really made much of an impression.

A grin twitched across Grima’s face as he moved back down the icy road. Kiran had left the doorstep; turning into the square, the fell dragon joined the other Heroes that had gathered, submitting without complaint to the fair-haired cleric’s treatment.

“I was worried for a moment there,” the Askran princess giggled. “There were so many of them!”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Ike muttered, the words clearly at odds with the wounds the healer had yet to mend.

“What troubles me is how quickly the tides turned,” Alphonse said. “Our enemy has shown fearsome skill at predicting our course of action and heading us off…they may seek to lure us into a trap.”

“Where’s Kiran?” Anna asked. “Perhaps they’ll have some insight…”

All eyes turned to Grima.

A sense of disquieting unease crawled down his spine. “I did not see them when the battle ended. I thought they had joined you here.”

But scanning the worried Heroes that turned to look amongst each other, he found no trace of the Summoner.

“They can’t be far…right?” Lissa asked, wringing her staff between her hands.

“Let’s look for them. Perhaps they were sidetracked investigating something,” Robin suggested, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his otherwise calm logic.

The fell dragon retraced his steps as the other members of the Order fanned out through the square, calling to the Summoner to reveal themselves. Approaching the doorstep where he had left them, Grima narrowed his eyes at the open doorway leading into the wreckage. Had it been ajar before? If Kiran intended this to be some prank–

That isn’t like them.

As he drew close, an odd sound snared Grima’s attention: a muffled, melodic hum from somewhere nearby. Tilting his head, he peered up and down the street, toward the scorched eaves, down to the snowy ground…

Oh, gods.

The fell dragon crouched, lifting the Summoner’s magic tile off the step. Free of the ice, the song it sang grew louder, a tense battle hymn that set his nerves on edge. “Kiran,” he called, taking to his feet and striding through the doorway, out through the collapsed rear wall, and across the packed snow left by the enemy’s retreat.

No response.

They won’t hear you.

“Kiran!” Grima snarled, loud enough to echo through the wreckage, distorting beyond recognition.

They can’t hear you.

“KIRAN!!”

The dragon overhead shrieked in unison with him, sending scores of dark birds rushing from the forests on every side. But as the ringing in his ears at last abated, nothing more than silence greeted him.

They’re gone.

—

The Order had searched. They had scoured the woods until the last light left the sky, following the tracks left by the Múspell soldiers in hopes of finding the place where they converged; but even with six eyes overhead peering through the dark, they found no clues to spur their progress.

Nightfall forced their hand. With few options and grave uncertainties of what lay ahead, the Order’s commander called for a retreat back to Askr to resupply and assess the situation. And as little as Grima liked it, he had nothing better to offer.

“We should gather reinforcements,” the Askran prince insisted as they strode through the luminous gateway into the plaza. “The Múspell forces couldn’t have traveled far. If we set off at dawn we may be able to catch up with them–”

“It’s too risky,” the commander replied. “We don’t know how many soldiers they have. Even if we were to take the whole of the Order, we’ve no guarantee of victory – and that could be exactly what they want, leaving Askr’s defenses weak for Surtr’s invasion force. Until we know more, we should wait and prepare.”

“You would abandon them.”

The words echoed through the plaza, leaving silence in their wake. Grima stalked forward, rage fueling the violet tongues of flame that swirled around him; only the warning from the presence in the back of his mind kept him from lifting the red-headed general off the ground by the front of her tunic. The Askrans still retreated, warily touching their weapons as the fell dragon stared down at them.

“We’re not abandoning anyone,” Anna insisted, the tremor in her voice undercutting her patient tone. “Rushing in will only put everyone at risk.”

“Múspell’s general is a formidable strategist, but has treated the people of Nifl fairly even after its fall,” Fjorm offered. “If she has taken the Summoner, we can be assured of their safety until terms are delivered–”

“And if Surtr is responsible then they may be dead already,” Grima snarled.

“…we can’t afford to risk the Order, or the Summoner’s life, by rushing in ill prepared,” the commander repeated. “We will make ready, and when we receive word–”

The fell dragon bared his fangs, feeling the pull of the great form atop the castle and wanting nothing more than to bring the walls crumbling down on the Askrans’ miserable heads…

That won’t help Kiran.

He hated that voice. All the more for the fact that he knew that it spoke true.

Clenching his fists, Grima stormed from the plaza, winding his way through the halls and up to the castle roof where his six-eyed form roosted. The dragon made a small noise of distress, six eyes fixed on the distant horizon while Grima settled against the parapets and struggled to fight down the rage burning its way through him. “Miserable wretched cowardly worms, every one of them–”

They have some sound points.

“They’re leaving Kiran to die, how is that a sound point?”

If Surtr had been involved, we would have known it. He likes to gloat too much. He wouldn’t have retreated with Kiran, he would have made it known immediately what he’d done. Odds are good that it is the general who’s responsible, then, and that gives us time to prepare.

“Prepare for what? Do you really imagine their terms will be anything beyond ‘surrender or we slaughter the Summoner?’”

…unconditional surrender or providing Gunnthrá’s location would be my guess.

Grima sneered, pressing his fists to his forehead. “How reassuring.”

What else can we do, though?

“How should I know? As I recall, you were the genius tactician.”

The presence at the back of his mind had no response for that.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the fell dragon reached into the pocket of his coat, removing the Summoner’s magic tile. The divine weapon they’d left behind had been left in the commander’s care…but Grima had kept the Summoner’s fohn. The surface had gone dark, the eerie music silent now as he held the device in his palm…but as he prodded it experimentally, the screen flashed to light, a series of tiny white dots speckling the bottom of the screen.

He had watched Kiran toy with this blasted thing often enough. Touching the surface, he drew his finger through several of the spots…and with a soft click, the tile’s surface rippled and changed, a faint red cast overtaking the screen. Touching it lightly sent sparks dancing under his fingers…before a map of the Askran kingdom appeared, glowing stones marked with ornate banners scattered across the continent. The Summoner had shown him this once before…tapping one the seals arranged along the bottom of the tile, he frowned at the banners filing down before his eyes. Skills, seals, growth…tapping another made the surface shimmer into a list of even less helpful banners: dueling swords, stamina restoration, barracks expansion…

What are you looking for?

“There must be some way to help them,” the fell dragon muttered. “If this so-called ‘Order of Heroes’ is as grand as the Askrans claim, there must be something…”

Like what?

“If I knew that, would I be searching?” Grima growled, squinting in the tile’s light and touching another symbol, only to find himself back on the map of the kingdom. “Wretched thing…”

Try the last one. On the right.

“I didn’t ask you,” Grima snarled.

…I want them back, too, you know. But I don’t have a body anymore. I can only help if you’ll let me.

Silence settled over the rooftop, broken only by the whisper of the breeze rustling the Askran flags flying high over the towers. And finally, without ire or protest, the fell dragon touched the furthest symbol, scanning the list of banners that scrolled before his eyes.

There. Catalog of Heroes.

Grima touched the words, watching the screen shimmer and change, displaying tiny portraits of the Heroes assembled within the Askran palace. Dragging his fingertip along the edge sent the tiles trailing out of sight, replaced by new ones. Some were familiar: Naga’s young daughter, the Hoshidan archer prince, the Ylissean tacticians…others much less so.

Touch one.

He did without argument. The surface briefly darkened before an image appeared of a fair-haired man in red, a quiver of arrows secured at his side; a scroll emblazoned with a name and epithet hovered over a brief biography…

A strategist.

“How many do you think there are?” Grima asked quietly, touching the scrollwork arrows and browsing through the other Heroes.

If we’re lucky? Enough.

The dragon felt a smile tug at his lips, exposing pale fangs to the moonlight. “Then tell me, tactician: what will we need?”

—

It came as no surprise when the Askran troops made no move. One day passed. Then another. A pall of silence hung over the castle; the Heroes carried on their conversations in hushed voices and terse words, half their attention seeming forever fixed on the gates leading to the lands beyond Askr in hopes that some message would arrive from beyond their borders.

None came.

And for that, Grima was grateful. It would have been far more difficult to lay plans with the Order scrambling to meet Múspell’s demands.

Nightfall cleared the plaza. None of the Heroes seemed interested in idle chatter when one of their own was missing. And it made the task of locating them far easier as he stalked through the quiet barracks, glancing from door to door and knocking one by one on the rooms he and the tactician had so carefully chosen.

Responses were, as expected, mixed. Soren had no interest in helping Grima, with his loyalties so firmly tied to the young mercenary swordsman; Ike, however, needed no encouragement at all to join when he heard the proposal, and in his wake the strategist grudgingly followed. The Ylissean tacticians, meanwhile, were far more open to hearing the fell dragon out, though the rest of their exalted families harbored grave misgivings (and Grima felt a pang from the presence in his mind when Lucina touched her sword).

They assembled in the castle’s grand council chamber, taking their seats at the round table and looking among their number: four Ylissean tacticians in various states of dress and festive attire, one fair-haired Archanean archer, a stoic swordsman and his branded mage companion an Ostian spy with a sly smile and sharp eyes, and one Ylissean thief contemplating the gathering over a lollipop.

“You said this is about Kiran,” Ike said, breaking the uncomfortable silence at last.

“I did,” Grima agreed. “And it is.”

“Have you seen something?” his counterpart ventured, glancing up at the ceiling as though searching for the six-winged form roosting far above.

“No,” the dragon replied. “Which is why I asked you here.”

“…’fraid I don’t follow,” Gaius muttered.

Yes he does. He just wants to hear you say it.

“How ‘bout you spell it out for us?” the thief continued, leaning far enough back in his chair to nearly upend it.

A smile carved its way across Grima’s face. “Why are we all here in this place, fighting this war?”

“We were summoned,” Jeorge replied. “By Kiran, and that strange weapon they hold.”

“I’m still not sure if we’re bound by contract or not,” Robin said, twisting a lock of long white hair around her finger. “We can’t go home unless we’re sent back, but…”

“I don’t…exactly feel obligated to help here,” her twin agreed, adjusting the coat over her bare shoulders. “Not like some of the Heroes we’ve encountered in Veronica’s ranks.

“Why is that?” the fell dragon asked. “Why do you remain here, why do you commit yourself to the Askran cause, if not for a contract?”

“I’m only here because Ike is,” Soren grumbled.

The swordsman paid him no mind, meeting Grima’s eye steadily. “Kiran.”

“Kiran,” the fell dragon repeated, beginning to pace the length of the room. “The Summoner. The one who brought us together, who’s honed our skills, who’s afforded us every chance to better ourselves. Who’s listened to us, and tried to help us find our places in this strange world. Who’s seen us through countless battles and allowed us to be the Heroes we’ve been branded, regardless of our worth.”

You’re waxing poetic.

Kiran brought out a strange side of him. Turning to the assembled Heroes, he leaned his weight against the table. “Who’s now lost behind enemy lines, who’s been abandoned by the leaders of this Order, and who may be in danger.”

“You heard Anna,” the festive tactician noted uncomfortably, folding his mittened hands a few times. “There’s too much of a risk, both to ourselves and to Kiran, to charge back in when we don’t know the full situation.”

A smile tugged at Grima’s lips, exposing the tips of his fangs. “Then perhaps it would behoove us to rectify that.”

“…alright. I’ll bite. How?” Matthew asked, his smile twitching as he fought to keep it in place.

“A covert operation.”

All eyes turned to Grima’s doppelganger. He folded his hands on the table, meeting the fell dragon’s eye steadily. “That’s what you’d propose. Isn’t it?”

“No wonder you need spies and strategists,” the woman seated beside him remarked. “The first to slip into the Múspell camp, assess their forces and potential weak points; the other to take that and devise the plan to strike, extract Kiran, and retreat.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Ylisse’s illustrious tacticians,” the fell dragon murmured, inclining his head in agreement.

“Why, though?” Gaius asked, propping his boots on the edge of the table. “What’s in it for you?”

The assembled Heroes turned their attention back to Grima. He met their stares without flinching, standing tall beside his place at the table. “You imagine I have selfish motivations. And you are not mistaken. Were it another, I would have no qualms about leaving them, whether they were royalty or the Order’s commander. But this is Kiran. They are a weak, wretched, pathetic excuse for a human, unable even to defend themselves in a fight. I want them returned. Nothing more.”

“…I would like to see the Summoner returned safely, myself,” Jeorge remarked, resting his chin on his hands as the other Heroes nodded in agreement. “So, then. Where do we begin?”

—

The council lasted well into the darkest hours of the night. But their plans came together, bit by bit, until at last they parted ways to rest and prepare for the opportune moment. Slipping through the plaza, Grima made his way toward the soft glow of the gates that led beyond the Askran kingdom. If conditions were in their favor, they might be able to set things in motion with the next nightfall–

“Where is Kiran?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Hoshido’s archer prince as he emerged from the shadows of the pillars. “Not here,” the fell dragon replied brusquely.

“Where?” His voice sounded hoarse. Narrowing his eyes, Grima watched the noxious violet fog swirl and eddy around the young man. The possessed one, then.

The volatile one.

“I haven’t seen them since the battle,” the fell dragon said.

“I need to find them,” Takumi insisted. “Where are they?”

“I could not say. But they are not here. Look elsewhere.”

“I’ve looked. Everywhere. Nowhere else to go. I need to find them.”

“…why?” Grima asked.

“It won’t go away.”

The archer pressed a hand to his face, fingers curling into an unsteady fist. “I try. I try to block it out, but…the voice keeps telling me…to kill them, all of them, and I can’t make it stop, I need Kiran to make it stop, I need them, where are they…?”

“Gone.”

Takumi looked up, his expression an unsettling mask of distress and rage. “Where?”

“Captured.”

Are you sure you should be telling him that?

“By who?” the archer growled.

“Múspell,” Grima replied.

“Get them back.”

“The Order intends to do nothing,” the fell dragon sneered. “They will sit on their hands and wait for Surtr’s demands. Or for him to put Kiran’s charred corpse on display. Whichever comes first, I suppose.”

The mist around the prince seethed and roiled, and a thin smile cut across Grima’s face as he watched the bow at Takumi’s side begin to tremble.

You’re doing it on purpose.

“I will go.”

“The Order won’t allow it,” the fell dragon remarked.

“I don’t care. I’ll go. I’ll kill them all for Kiran, I’ll get them back, I’ll…”

“You want Kiran back so badly?” Grima murmured, knowing the answer even before he asked. Takumi nodded, offering no more than a low, guttural noise of assent. “Then collect yourself.”

The singer might be able to help. Azura? Kiran called her in to help before, I think…

The fell dragon gestured for Takumi to follow, making his way back into the halls. Considering their purpose, a performer could prove advantageous, though a songstress ran the risk of betraying their position…

But if you plan to use him, you need a way to keep him together. Besides, a singer doesn’t need room to perform the way a dancer does. Reach out to the one in blue, she’ll have a better chance of blending into the dark.

The fell dragon grinned. Perhaps it truly had been a stroke of luck that he’d been bound to a tactician’s body.

You can thank me any time.

…he might consider it if they succeeded.

***

Laegjarn had been true to her word: following the retreat from the village, the Múspell general had personally escorted the Summoner through the march to the edge of the forest before placing them – under heavy guard, of course – in a private tent near the heart of the camp. While Kiran was grateful for that, it didn’t stop anxiety from gnawing a hole through their gut, leaving them queasy and sleepless through the next few days and nights.

It didn’t help that Surtr was on his way. Laegjarn hadn’t said anything about it, but the Summoner had heard her call for a messenger shortly after they made camp. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess what she was going to send.

Aside from the unbearable waiting, though, it wasn’t as bad as Kiran might have expected. No one bothered them, the general was conscious of their needs, and the conditions were more than fair given their prisoner status.

The Summoner wondered, often, as their nerves twisted their stomach into knots, what would end up happening to them. Laegjarn had vowed that no harm would befall them, but with Surtr on the way, that seemed like a hard promise to keep. Would she be able to convince her father to discuss nonviolent terms? Would the flame king overrule his general and act on whatever violent whims ruled him? Would…

…would the Order somehow find a way to save them?

Impossible as it seemed, that was the thought that gave them the most heart. Heroes swooping in to the rescue, defeating the Múspell soldiers…

A flurry of activity on the third night made their heart seize up. Kiran heard Laegjarn calmly directing the soldiers as she strode past the Summoner’s tent…and as she passed, someone entered: not the eldest princess of Múspell, but her sister, her face an expressionless mask and her eyes far colder than her heritage would have implied.

“Is something going on?” Kiran asked, feigning calm.

“You will come with me,” Laevatein ordered.

The Summoner heard no room for argument. And they weren’t exactly in a position to protest, either. Rising to their feet, Kiran approached the young general, submitting without protest as she took hold of their arm and led them out of the tent.

The frantic bustle of activity set their nerves on edge as they moved toward the lanterns lighting the front of the camp. “Your sister seems pretty great,” they noted quietly, watching soldiers scrambling from one corner of the camp to another. Kiran swore they saw the ghost of a smile cross Laevatein’s face at that, though she made no reply. “I’d like to thank her, if I could. Sometime. Y’know. I really appreciate everything she’s done…”

Anything else they might have wanted to say died on their tongue as they approached the edge of camp. The lights they had seen were not lanterns at all: they were naked flames, writhing in the air and nearly choking the Summoner with their heat alone. And at their heart stood the Ruler of Flame himself, his dark eyes staring down at them through the rippling haze.

“I present the Askran Summoner,” Laegjarn said, gesturing to Kiran as Laevatein released their arm.

A wicked sneer sliced across Surtr’s face, and any breath the Summoner might have salvaged to speak abandoned them. “Pathetic,” he chuckled, a sound so low it seemed to shake the ground. “This wretched thing is what’s given them such nerve? They look like they would lose to a mere ember.”

Kiran had to admit that they probably would. But the words would not come out, even if they’d wanted to speak.

The man’s smile grew, exposing teeth and gums alike. “I wonder how well they will burn.”

He raised a hand, and the Summoner stared at the flames licking his fingers, sparking across his nails and crackling in his palm. They could not speak. They could not move. Try as they might, all they could do was watch in growing horror as his hand stretched toward them, the heat baking their skin and singing the edges of their hood and oh gods this was how they would die, they would burn to death here and they couldn’t even cry as they stood rooted in terror beneath the burning gaze of Múspell’s king–

A hand closed on their arm, pulling them back a step.

Kiran stumbled, gasping into their sleeve as Laegjarn placed herself between the Summoner and her father. “I gave my oath that no harm would befall them,” she said, her voice perfectly composed. “The Summoner is a valuable bargaining chip. We can deliver terms of surrender to Askr in exchange for their safe return and end this war tomorrow, but only if we have the Summoner to offer–”

“You should not have made such a hasty oath,” Surtr growled. “Stand aside, or the flames may feast twice this night.”

Kiran’s knees threatened to give way beneath them as Múspell’s king brushed his daughter aside, leaving her armor scorched from even so light a touch. Another step and he loomed over them, the flames making him seem still larger as they flared around him, and the Summoner could not be sure whether it was the haze of heat around him or the adrenaline coursing through them that made his silhouette waver and blur–

And in a flash, chaos erupted all around them.

Horses shrieked and bolted with glowing green wolves snapping at their heels, blue-black ravens descended on the archers reaching for their bows, and wyvern riders taking to the skies fell to a hail of arrows. Kiran scrambled blindly out of the way of the scattering soldiers–

Someone gripped their arm. The Summoner yelped, whirling in a panic…

“Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Their breath caught.

“…Grima!?”

***

The weather held throughout the day and after the fall of night. Thick clouds obscured the moon and stars from sight as the band of Heroes made their way through the dark: two mages, two dagger wielders, two archers, a swordsman, and a songstress with an ornate axe. Not a brigade for sustained combat, but they had all agreed it would suffice for a strategic strike.

They found the Múspell camp with little difficulty. Gaius and Matthew slipped from the cover of the trees, darting across the icy ground to the pillars of ice that sheltered the enemy tents. They would need time to assess the situation and return to brief the rest of the company…

A sound overhead drew his attention. Glancing up at the heavy clouds, Grima narrowed his eyes at the winged silhouette moving against the sky. He scanned their small force, catching Takumi’s eye and gesturing up to the enemy on patrol; the archer followed his gaze, raising his bow and taking careful aim before loosing a bolt of black energy into the air. The fell dragon saw the wyvern jerk and list in its flight an instant before its wings crumpled…

A sharp hiss drew his attention back. He frowned, watching Takumi shudder while the aura pulsed and coiled around his neck. Nodding briefly to the dark-clad singer, he focused once more on encampment glowing against the blue-white ice while a soft song filled their ears. Even from this distance, he could see soldiers moving hastily through the lines of tents, seething and swarming like ants disturbed from their mound. Something was going on, that much was clear…

He heard, rather than saw, the return of the spies from their patrol, the faint crunch of pine needles and snow under soft boots betraying their presence. “We gotta move fast,” Gaius muttered as he slunk up to Grima’s side. “Bad news just walked in.”

The fell dragon growled low in his throat. That would explain the activity. “Then we had best make haste.”

He moved swiftly, hearing the others following his lead. They moved swiftly, dark shadows against the pale ice, taking shelter behind the icy stones that littered the plain. As they drew close, he saw Surtr speaking with one of the two Múspell generals, watched him brush the woman aside, his hand reaching for…

Kiran.

“Now,” he hissed.

They did not hesitate. The tacticians leapt into action, their spells descending on the encampment and throwing its soldiers into disarray. Jeorge and Takumi took aim at the wyvern riders, arresting their attempted flight while Grima cleared the remaining distance, his attention fixed on the Summoner’s gilt robes amid the chaos. Taking hold of their arm–

Kiran whimpered, rounding on the fell dragon and raising their free hand to shield their face. He could feel them trembling beneath his touch. Typical. And yet, the fell dragon felt a smile curve across his lips, a soft rumble of laughter rising in his chest. “Stop sniveling, Summoner.”

Kiran stilled, turning their face up to look at him. And in spite of himself, he could not hide his grin.

“…Grima!?”

“Who else would it be?” he asked, turning back the way he’d come. “Quickly, now–”

“Hold.”

The fell dragon stopped, moving the Summoner carefully behind him as Surtr towered over them. “Stand aside,” Grima commanded. Even at his full height, the fell dragon was forced to tilt his head up to look the Ruler of Flame in his scarred face. But he felt no fear, even as the man lifted his axe, tongues of fire licking the glowing blade.

Surtr sneered. “Or what? What can a puny thing like you do?”

Grima’s smile widened, exposing his fangs. “I will devour you,” he replied. He raised his hand, gesturing to Múspell’s king as the man uttered a booming, mirthless laugh…

The clouds above roiled and parted for the six-eyed dragon, its maw gaping wide as it descended toward the camp. Surtr paused, watching the dragon’s descent with a vaguely amused smirk. “Keep close,” Grima muttered, sheltering the Summoner with one outstretched arm as the dragon overhead breathed a cloud of violet smoke over the encampment…

“Foolish wretch – you will learn the meaning of fear,” Surtr laughed.

Sparks danced through the veil of haze. The king of Múspell raised his axe high, flames coalescing into a ball that rivaled the sun – and as he swung his weapon, it soared high, striking the dragon squarely in the jaw.

The fell beast shrieked in rage and agony, expelling another cloud of noxious fog across the enemy’s forces. He felt Kiran’s hand grip his sleeve, and without hesitation he retreated through the dark, away from the Múspell forces and onto the snowy wastes beyond. He saw the others ahead, pulling back with equal speed, cutting swiftly across the ice and into the shelter of the trees beyond; with the songstress speeding them along their way, they continued without pause until at last the light and sound of the battlefield had faded from a ringing in their ears to utter silence.

And then, at last, their breathless troop stopped, collapsing beneath the shelter of the Nifl pines. Grima glanced across the battered force, an odd sense of relief settling over him as he found them all accounted for. They had done well.

And moreover, they had succeeded.

The fell dragon turned to the Summoner beside him, looking them over carefully as their breath at last grew steady. They appeared unharmed, if slightly singed… “Are you alright?” he asked.

Kiran drew in a shaky breath. And when they looked up at him, their wide eyes were full of tears.

Before he could speak, the Summoner flung themselves at him, pressing close and clutching his coat in their trembling hands. “He was gonna kill me,” they whimpered. “Gods…g-gods, I could’ve died, he was gonna burn me alive, and I couldn’t d-do anything – I froze up, I just stood there, like s-some dumb…I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t even run away, I was gonna die th-there…”

Grima hesitantly coiled one arm across Kiran’s shoulders, the other awkwardly patting the peak of their hood. “What did you expect?” he asked quietly. “You do not fight. That is not your role.”

“I could’ve…a-at least run away, i-instead of dying like…like some c-coward,” the Summoner sniffled into his increasingly damp shirt.

“There is no cowardice in what you did,” the fell dragon murmured. “Brave words can mask a coward, but his actions will betray him. You showed great courage. You held firm in the face of fear. You faced a foe that even Heroes fear. You should take pride.”

“I’m no Hero,” Kiran mumbled.

“No,” Grima agreed. “You are not. You are a Summoner. But what makes us Heroes is not our presence in Askr. It is not our histories, nor our titles, nor our lineages….it is you. You are the one who makes us Heroes. Your belief in us. Your faith. You are not a Hero, Summoner…but we are not Heroes without you.”

You’re waxing poetic again.

It seemed effective, though. Kiran’s sniffling abated, and they turned their gaze once more up to look at his face. “…do you really think so?” they whispered.

“I think any here would agree,” he nodded. The Summoner drew back slightly, mustering up a shaky smile as they dried their eyes and turned to scan the assembled Heroes…

“Holy shit, what happened to Takumi!?”

Kiran broke away, hurrying over to where the archer sat. His head came up, bloody lips curving into a relieved smile as the Summoner settled beside him. “You’re back,” he mumbled, the shifting aura around him beginning to disperse.

“Of course I am,” they chuckled. “You guys can’t get rid of me that easy. Don’t suppose a healer joined the party…?”

“No,” Grima confirmed, moving to stand beside them. “But Askr is only a brief warp away, and there are clerics enough there.”

“We should probably get going, then,” they said, helping Takumi to his feet. Nodding in agreement, Grima turned–

Something tugged on his sleeve. Looking back, he found the Summoner’s hand on his arm, a familiar smile taking its place once more on their face. “Thanks, Grima,” they murmured. “For saving me. And…for everything else, too.”

The fell dragon inclined his head slightly, concealing his smile beneath his raised hood as he turned to join the tacticians in seeing to the preparations for their return. The commander would likely have harsh words for them all, but…he would bear them without complaint or apology. The risk had been well worth the reward.

#fire emblem: heroes #fanfiction #fallen robin #grima #kiran #answered #anonymous #holy fuck i hope this was worth the wait #it was so much fun to write okay #i've been living it up for the past few days working on this #it's two in the morning and i don't care i'm on cloud nine because i did the thing #forgive me if it's not super polished though #it got no proofing through last basically 4k words #might go back and make tweaks tomorrow but i did the thing #i did the thing i'm so happy #controlled chaos #snippets

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