#my prayers now are for those who are most at the whims of the powerful

[okarasusama]

my election take:

"But when they said, “Give us a king to lead us,” this displeased Samuel; so he prayed to the Lord. And the Lord told him: “Listen to all that the people are saying to you; it is not you they have rejected, but they have rejected me as their king. As they have done from the day I brought them up out of Egypt until this day, forsaking me and serving other gods, so they are doing to you. Now listen to them; but warn them solemnly and let them know what the king who will reign over them will claim as his rights.”

Samuel told all the words of the Lord to the people who were asking him for a king. He said, “This is what the king who will reign over you will claim as his rights: He will take your sons and make them serve with his chariots and horses, and they will run in front of his chariots. Some he will assign to be commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and others to plow his ground and reap his harvest, and still others to make weapons of war and equipment for his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive groves and give them to his attendants. He will take a tenth of your grain and of your vintage and give it to his officials and attendants. Your male and female servants and the best of your cattle and donkeys he will take for his own use. He will take a tenth of your flocks, and you yourselves will become his slaves. When that day comes, you will cry out for relief from the king you have chosen, but the Lord will not answer you in that day.”

But the people refused to listen to Samuel. “No!” they said. “We want a king over us. Then we will be like all the other nations, with a king to lead us and to go out before us and fight our battles.”

When Samuel heard all that the people said, he repeated it before the Lord. The Lord answered, “Listen to them and give them a king.”

1 Samuel 8:6-21

[ritterum]

For Asterion, who sought to live among men.

The first thing one learns as a god is that one cannot become a not-god. One can appear to become a not-god - I have taken on the likenesses of egrets, leopards, mice, children, flying-foxes, and even coconut palms, ylang-ylang, fishing boats, clouds, and work-knives - but these are all illusion. There is, one learns, much more to Being than conversing in their tongues, or aping their ways; I could sooner fathom the whims of a whirlpool than understand what it is to Be a not-god. They approach life in insensible ways - one moment cautious, the next reckless; at once curious and yet fiercely ignorant.

Of all the not-gods, the one I walk next to the most is man, for though it was made lesser, it is the closest to the gods, and the one most of us view as equal. Where mans gather, so too am I there. I listen to their entreaties; I grant them; I sit quietly as they forget me for a time. I observe them in their joys and angers; I play with their house-animals and children. Some of the gods mock me for doing so, but I pay them no heed, for man is a creature of much cleverness. It can create somethings out of nothing (which the gods can do), and banish somethings into nothing (which, too, the gods can), but it has learned how to do a thing that the gods cannot: and that is to make what I can only call nothing-somethings, for they have the appearance of being nothing, and yet bind with all the power of somethings.

I have watched the mans count fruit that was years ahead of sprouting. I have watched them entreaty with a nothing-god to prepare for prayer with the actual god. I have watched as they formed bonds of not-blood with each other, carrying each other’s houses across the flooded fields, and when those were brought to safety, dissolving those bonds just as quickly. Once, I asked one of the wise mans to teach me this nothing-something. “Imagine,” it said, “a flock of herons.” I did, and behold! a flock of the purest herons sprang into being. But the wise man shook its head sadly. “No, no, the purpose of ‘imagine’ is not to bring something into being immediately - it is a something deferred, held in abeyance until one makes the decision to cause it to Be.” I nodded, and Imagined the flock again, and behold! there appeared a clutch of the healthiest heron eggs one ever did see.

The wise man smiled with an expression I could not interpret, and changed the topic.

Since then, I have been practising Imagining. The land is filled with heron eggs and the squawks of fledglings. I have learned from the wise man that there is another side to Imagining, which is Letting-Go; but I cannot bear to banish so many young birds. The other gods mock me for my insensible mercy, but I have walked among man for a time now and learned that, although the not-gods cannot become one another any more than the gods can, there is a single thing that they can become, and that is nothing. As a god, I cannot become nothing, or at least I have never heard of another god doing so. Yet I cannot help but fear, and it fills my mind many nights; I cannot bear to think about it when it does, and must distract myself with storms or eruptions or the mighty clash of beasts. What happens to birds when I turn them into nothing? What will happen to me?

[encursed]

ENCLOSING DARK AWAKENING DRABBLE WORD COUNT: 1326

       Your heels, when they meet the floor, click like gnashing teeth. The sound is sharp against the empty air— enough to startle someone, were you not alone. It is fortunate that it's just you and your tomes, then; Enclosing Dark strapped to one side, and Elivagar in a bag strapped onto the other. Still, for your own sake, and in an attempt to preserve the sacred silence, you try to keep your steps light. Against the quiet entranceway of the temple, your footfalls are a harsh disturbance. Unwelcome, almost. But it's difficult to stop the loud stutter of your feet. The burden on your shoulders seems to carry itself all the way down to your soles. Thus, your heels continue clicking and clicking until they are unceremoniously made to stop.

       Your final step echoes in the room, trembling in the air. There it is: standing in the center of the chamber, the light from the open ceiling shining down upon it, is the final resting place of the goddess Embla. Or, the representation of it, at least. Embla simply faded into nothingness when she expired. But the cardinals and clerics insisted on creating this, anyways, as a token and testament to the nation's grief. You don't find yourself wanting to argue. If the people needed a funeral, then a funeral they would get— nevermind the emptiness of the casket.

       You approach the cenotaph carefully, those biting clicks sounding through the air again. You stop once you're close enough to touch it. The tomb is made of a sleek black marble— a stark contrast to the dirty whites and reds that dominated the rest of the temple. Decorating its side is a pyre, for burning offerings. The Emblian sigil is engraved on them both, crusted with a shining gold. You run your fingers across the cold surface of the tomb, looking down at the faint reflection that dances within it. Then, you sigh.

       It's with sudden clarity that you can recall your previous visits to this temple. So-called "good" memories of it are far and few between— they seem so scarce, in fact, so as to not exist at all. Most of your time spent within these halls were with members of the clergy, who were keen to make a devotee out of you. Time and time again, you were made to sing prayers of gratitude— pontificating platitudes for the powers that you never asked for. Thanking her for the strength in your blood and the viciousness of your spells. You never truly felt this way about her. You simply followed them in the first few instances, then completely abandoned them for the rest. You never had faith in her. Your strength and power, you believed, were products of yourself and your hard work. There is nothing to thank her for.

       Yet here you are now, in a strange twist of fate, setting down your bag and kneeling before her tomb. Murmuring prayers within the bowels of the temple after years of silence.

       "Goddess Embla," you begin, your gaze cast onto the ground. In part due to the reverence that was demanded, but mostly for your inability to look at her as you speak. "I wish to thank you."

       Each word has to fight to leave your throat— the syllables sound like scathing, clicking steps, disjointed enough to sound like another language. But you force them out anyway. For as much as she has taken and taken from you, she has undoubtedly also managed to provide. The powerful magic you now wield is proof of that. Enclosing Dark, strapped to your side, glints as though aware.

       You swallow back your spit. Then manage to continue.

       "I won't pretend that what you did was okay. I won't pretend that I'm not angry. I won't pretend that I wished you were still here. Because I really don't. But…" you take a deep breath, "Well, you've made me stronger. You shaped me into this form in pursuit of your own whims. But it doesn't matter now that you're gone. The power yet remains within me."

       You suck in an inhale. "What I'm trying to say is: I chose none of this. Not my position, not my powers— not anything in my life. But I've learned that it doesn't matter. Because I can choose to make it mine."

       Silence follows your words. You let it linger for a moment before rising to your feet. Once you're drawn up to your full height, you stare down at Embla's tomb once more. Your face stares back, faded within the marble's sheen yet undoubtedly still there. Your eyes flick down to Enclosing Dark, still attached to a belt by your hip. You sigh.

       "I considered abandoning this tome, you know." you say softly, still gazing down at it, "In the fallout, I wanted nothing more than to sever myself from everything that happened. This tome has threatened the lives of people I care for—" memories of how your magic, through it, nearly snuffed out the lives of the Askran royals suddenly rush through you, and your jaw tightens, "—and has origins that disgust me. But the people need this strength. Both the Emblians and the Askrans do."

       You return your gaze to the tomb. "So, thank you. Thank you for giving me this strength, that I may offer it to both nations. Thank you for giving me this tome, that I may use it as a vessel for said strength. And thank you for teaching me that I mustn't shut myself out anymore."

       You bend down and retrieve your bag from the floor. Then, with a flick of your wrist, you light the pyre next to the monument. The smoke rises through the open ceiling, moving towards a heaven with no inhabitant to answer it. Your eyes follow the trail, watching it for a few moments. Then, you make your approach.

       "One final offering, then. To you."

       You bring Elivagar out from your bag. The spellbook has been through much— centuries of use from centuries of emperors have worn it down significantly. The nonstop battling certainly didn't help. The gemstones on its cover are dull, the pages are patched together with parchment and letterpaste, even the runes and sigils within it have been inked and re-inked hundreds of times over. It remained a powerful vessel of magic throughout all this time, however. Holding it now, you can still feel the tremor of your magic meeting with it. The wonderfully warm hum that courses through your veins, up your palms and through your elbows. But keeping it would only tempt you to return to it. Keeping it would lure you into the trap of comfort— of continuing with the old because of the pains of the new.

       And you're quite frankly sick of the cycles.

       So, slowly, you place Elivagar in the center of the pyre. The fires are slow to consume it, crackling and popping as they spread through the surface. Once it's engulfed, however, it all but disappears; fading into ashes and sparks like the goddess they were being offered to.

       Your hand goes to Enclosing Dark, resting by your side. The metal is cold to the touch. The hum of your magic through it is strong, but also unfamiliar. Even after a few weeks with it, you still find yourself fearing it, somewhat. It had been an extension of Embla's will while the goddess lived— now, it’s an extension of yours. But you feel your command of it wavering on occasion. As though you were forgetting the difference between Embla's desire and your own. It will take you a little while more to grow close with it. And even longer to begin wielding it with the confidence and grace that you needed. But you don't simply have to learn— you want to. No more running from pain, you decide. You will walk down this path even if the steps sound like grindstones.

[madchild-dennis]

So what now? You think I'd keep fighting it?

Like I did before:

You just need to search delusional and my handle on Twitter and you see more. Yes, I said that then. Now I'm TIRED and over it ALL. Why should I keep fighting it now? Why?

WHY SHOULD I?

I am only ONE person with NO ONE willing to take the risks with me. Just people who want to shyly support or afraid of the reactions.

Remember the army:

That was a VERY spiritually powerful person who chose to on their own whim, come to me with ideas and plans related to all this. However, that person was NEVER going to take ANY risk or falls. I mean this person is SO AFRAID, they don't want to pray for me out of fear of being spiritually attacked. That person won't die from if spiritually attacked for it and may just be uncomfortable. They chose NOT to do a simple prayer for me or on my behalf out of FEAR.

So why the FUCK, should I keep fighting it?

Is it because of this:

As you'd see, it's a video of a boy in the community saying he saw me on TV, named Danielle Fowler as Miss World 2020/2021. A boy who sounds certain, I did not speak to about any of this (I don't speak to ANY of this to any of the children). A boy who also did not have a television. Therefore, it was a vision.

Whoopi Wooo. AND?

I could list the MANY MANY of the small confirmations from other people that say/prove it's God.

Like this:

Or the most recent:

That is where God blindly used a nurse to break the demonic attempts made on my life and to untie the guy God promised me. I mean it included God putting into her spirit the name of the girl he was with as the person did all of it; Samantha.

So I have SMALL evidences. Of small things that are connected to these GRAND promises I talked about:

Fine, those evidences mean I am NOT completely delusional.

No one said that.

The Psychiatric term or issue is DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR.

AKA Grand/Big idea delusions.

The Psychotherapist said I am not out of touch with reality.

So me trusting God each day or believing the small things are fine as there are evidences and they pan out. However using that as proof for the BIG promises that NEVER happen. That is where the delusional problem lies. That's with the fact that every time I say God give a timeline, or expected time of delivery, it NEVER happens.

So this thread detailing a time I trusted the voice of God throughout and it protected me despite looking and sounding crazy:

I may have been doing it for Grand Delusions (Delusions of Grandeur). However, all it shows, is the fact that I'm guided by God not necessarily that there is any stance behind these crazy promises.

So

No I will not get $200 million from Pastor Michael Todd. I might win $1 million USD I prayed and budget for in 2021, if I entered the lottery for it, or get a film/series deal because I wrote a dope script.

No, Raheem Fowler is not married to me spiritually. He may have been tied by Samantha. He might like me, want me or can't stop thinking about me. But I would rather a better guy. A guy who actually cares, doesn't lie, love me and puts in EFFORT.

I'm too OLD to enter Miss World now, so I won't be Miss World. An ebony skinned, afrocentric girl that looks like me named Danielle Fowler by birth, may win Miss World one year and the lil boy made a mistake about the year.

It's TIME I WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!

Therefore the other Grand promises have no stance either, because those NEVER pan out.

I am NOT CHRISTIAN, therefore I am NOT going to use their delusional theology or practices that says "if God does it for the small things/promises, that he'll keep the big ones" then blindly continue onward. Make it worst the big ones NEVER occur at the time God keep sayinf. I'm not going to continue to delusionally put myself in danger, sacrifice my comfort for something that NEVER happen. The worst part is the timeline/expiry is NEVER kept.

If the above is wrong, then that's NOT my problem as I did the WORK. I paid the PRICE. I put in the SACRIFICE. I had ALL THE FUCKING FAITH I COULD POSSIBLY HAVE. Then they chose to disobey God. That's on them NOT me.

I can't be playing that game for the rest of my life.

Plus if the wedding God ask me to plan a date for was 1st set to be November 2023. Then I wanted to set in October 2023 matching the God-declared day. Which would wedding huger than I dreamt. With invited guests to attend like: Oprah, Beyonce, Meghan & Harry, Zendaya, Rihanna, Steve Harvey, Anna Wintour, Ava DuVernay, Tyler Perry, The Obama's and so much more.

That's just the US guests. How am I if all this shit isn't a delusion and isn't delivered tomorrow, will I be able to create an intimate, fun and safe wedding where ALL guests, family, friends, well-wisher and public figures will enjoy and feel safe/protect. Especially protecting their privacy. Is not like I am inviting just friends and family or it's just a party for celebrities. It involves ALL. I have uncooth family members who might cross boundaries. Or just simply booking the venue. Or simply curating the menu. Plus they would have to get ALL that the public figures need to believe it is actually God to accept the invitation from me.

That's just the wedding. If the wedding happens in October, that means the sponsorship for Conjugal Partnership should already been submitted and being processed, long before the wedding. Because if the wedding occurs and the marriage certificate is made before the submission, then the application would be denied. As it would not be the right category. The right category would be Marriage which requires minimum of 2 years together as a married couple first. The conjugal Partnership sponsorship is what I said God said, not marriage.

Should I keep going.

Like how God gave a timeline of how is be released from this shithole (nursing home) before the 20th of March. Another, time/expiry. As much as God said something else in line with that day that did come to pass. My asshole parents aren't going to release me. Those disgusting shits aren't going to let me out until they get what they want. That I talk to them and they get their picture perfect image of a "good family" back. Something I will NOT DO, no matter if I illegally lose my freedom for it. I am COMPLETELY FINISHED WITH THOSE FUCKING SHITHOLE ASSHOLES, my parents, FOREVER.

So, tell me, do you see those things happening?

EXACTLY...

DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR

Like I wrote to (you know who) in this poem:

I ACCEPT DELUSION!!!

[fxiled-fxithful]

Angela froze for a moment, watching in horror as those she thought to be the strongest among the harbingers be dragged off to the Tree of Knowledge, becoming one with it. Following after, the sphere that was once buried within her beloved Creator's chest, crushed into pieces, mocked by the Wrathful One upon their next move. As the others were taken away, the appearance of Cain caught her eye.

Hold a moment... Since when did the first Sinner have angelic wings? Did he do something to earn them? An angel's pride was always their wings. He must have gone through some sort of...redemption.

That was it!

At least, it was a hope.

She paid little mind to Adam. His yelling was like white noise to her. For the first time since coming to Eden, she landed on the ground, a foot away from the Wrathful One. There was a surge of power she could feel under her heels. It must be the souls in his care, souls still carried energy, despite where they were held.

But this felt..strange. It was almost as if she could slowly feel her power coming back. She stared down at her hands for a moment.

Ever since Philza severed the bond between her and her brother, Ash, she has felt an emptiness inside her. There was something missing within her soul. But being surrounded by so many souls, most likely here by force, she could hear their voices, feel their pain.

As a proclaimed faithful messenger and healer with a duty to God, she knew that to handle a devastating wound, one must deal with the cause of the wound before bandaging it. Thus, she will use such a method on Father.

Angela looked up at the Creator before her, "I see you, Father. You have laid a test before us, one of impossible odds. It saddens me to see you in such a state. You have been so caring, loving and lenient to what you have allowed during this cycle. Even now, I feel that my faith and loyalty are being tested.."

She bows her head at him, taking a single step back as her hands clasp in a state of prayer. In a single fluid motion, she falls to her knees as her wings tuck in at her shoulders. Angela knows that she is in a vulnerable state but she wants to show him that she holds no fear, no ill will - despite her earlier intentions. It was obvious that aggression was not the way to go here. A passive approach is what she shall try. She feels that this, a prayer of healing, will be what she needs to do to help Father.

"I am forever duty bound to be at your side until you relieve me. 'Tis be by your whim that I live beyond my cycle where I could have been left broken on that bridge between life and death. Please, allow me, your faithful servant, to return the favor; grant you the mercy that you once showed me."

Her hands gave a bright white glow as she muttered a few words in Latin under her breath before placing her hands onto the ground, reaching out to the souls around her. To the naked eye it would appear that she was doing exactly what the specter wished the first time she had asked Father about it when they were in his observation room.

She has approached him, showing no signs of fear, praying for a moment as she took to her knees, bowing her head low as if she were to repent for her own sins. Alas, she would not be confessing her sins this evening.

For each soul she was able to reach out to, she uttered a blessing to them, hoping that her positive energy would rub off on Father. Prayers of Healing, Prayers of Happiness. Prayers of Love.

Within her touch, there was a soft chill that was passed on, a brief side affect to the chilling touch she had. Angela was not sure if her method of Healing him would work but it was worth a shot.

"Please..Father, come back to us.." she muttered softly, "We need you.. I need you."

It took everything within her to hold back her tears. Now was not the time to show off the scars of her heart, to bleed out and beg. She needed to be strong for those who weren't present. Her hands remained firm on the ground, purifying and blessing the souls around her and the Wrathful One.

ll @hxly-fxther // @dick-meister // @originemesis ll

The party of Harbingers walk through a valley of tall trees of many different species. Spruce, redwood, oak, pine, palm. They stood tall and yet drooped ever so slightly down as if to watch the party march upon the land they do not understand. Tall, leafy giants they were, neglected from the touch of life for so long, still as if time had even been cast out of Paradise. Their color had been deeply saturated a pitch darker, just like the grass and the sky that held an ever gray color. Where was the sun? The moon? Are they on Earth? Are they in Heaven or Hell? Perhaps Purgatory?

Even the steps they took on the land wouldn’t deepen with pressure of their strides. A million men could walk these plains and yet no path would be made. Change was lost here and only the being would be the one to know that change is absent in Eden. This place had remained constant the very moment Adam and Eve were removed from the land.

The Wrathful One. He stands in front of a tree, a tall, nameless tree, one that is familiar to all but foreign to Earth or even Heaven and Hell. The tree that bared the fruit of knowledge.

God watches the group approach him, bright white eyes unmoving, unchanging as he stands before the seven. These were the Harbingers, the grand test before the finale, many have stood up to them, many have fallen and rarely do they all fall. It would have been an honor to face them in a way like this, if not for what The Wrathful One sees. In time they will find out.

For now, the shadows that seep off the being dissipate once his form touches the ground. The stillness of the forever motionless air grows cold in a way that neglects to chill the skin but only the bone.

“You stand against God himself, Harbingers, Warriors, soldiers, dogs, tools.” His voice is once again strange. To each, he sounds like a collage of different voices of familiar persons to each of his opponents.

“I have seen you all, what you have done, what you are capable of doing, how far you would go and I must say, taking up a sword against God himself was… Predictable. Come then, show me what you are made of, be the firsts in all of creation to prove me wrong.”

The very ground begins to quake. The trees now find movement, the grass rustles and the sky. Dear Heavens the sky is ever changing of color, rapidly shifting from Gray, Red then a standstill of White. The background save for a couple of trees that surrounded them in their immediate proximity began to flicker and morph to show an uneasy and hopeless scene past those trees.

A palace of black, crumbled to only obsidian bricks that made up its foundation, across from the broken and felled castle and in the sky, a portal that shattered the atmosphere like glass Heavenly clouds fall out of the portal and immediately disappear, beyond a golden, broken pearly gates lay in shambles. Pieces of its glory lay scattered all throughout and seemed to glow even in this realm where they all stood.

But the most horrific sight of all, were the bodies. Heaven and Hellspawn sprawled defeated, killed, maimed, ripped apart. The stench of war was fowl and the sight being much more fowl and directly above them, far into the sky, seemingly unphased and unknowing to the sudden appearance of Eden, God and all seven Harbingers were the last two soldiers locked in a stalemate battle, armor and weapons both reflecting and consuming light. Two brothers, both who once loved one another now turned to hate each other.

Michael and Lucifer.

“Welcome, you stand in the final moments of the first Cycle. Once their battle ends, so will yours. The clock ticks down Harbingers, show me everything you have!”

@cast-you-dxwn @hellsdisneyprincess @themosthatedbeingg @dick-meister @originemesis @alteregozowie @fxiled-fxithful

[mirageofthecrystal]

Junelezen 2022 - Day 11 I Orthodox Mayhem

"Ser Zephirin de Valhourdin, the Just.

Ser Vellguine de Bourbagne, of the Stone Spear.

Ser Chirbert de Leusignac, the Stern.

Ser Grinnaux de Dzemael, the Bull

Ser Adelphel de Chevraudan, Brightblade.

Ser Paulecrain de Fanouilley, Coldfire.

Ser Haumeric de Peulagnon, the Valiant.

Ser Guerrique de Montrohain, the Cleaver.

Ser Hermenost de la Treaumaille, the Levinlight.

Ser Noudenet de Jaimberd, the Wise.

Ser Ignasse de Vesnaint, of the Dragon's Tail.

These twelve names are etched into the history of Ishgard, the memories of its people, and the hearts of every hopeful young man or woman who ever aspired to the pinnacle of knighthood. I was no different, revering these men, these knights twelve, the noble warriors of the Heaven's Ward who served Ishgard and the Archbishop with the utmost faith and prowess. As long as I can remember, I hoped to be amongst their ranks. And for a time, that aspiration looked to be within sight.

It was a reward for service, for valor and bravery that I had shown on behalf of Ishgard and my House. I remember the day clearly, still sporting wounds from the battle before. I was bid to simply wait under the care of the chirurgeons, and that the honor bestowed upon me would await me when I was mended. But I was stubborn, so badly did I desire what I thought my just reward. And so I marched before the people to accept their honors, and in one swift stroke I was dubbed to be a squire to none other than Ser Ignasse, once comrade to my uncle and unparalleled in his lancework. He was the mightiest slayer of dragons I could have pictured in my mind's eye, a relentless force for righteous justice that was unparalleled. And it would be my duty to serve him, to learn from him, and perhaps one day to take his place amongst these knights when his arms grew too weak to uphold his charge.

It was to my great shock and horror, then, when the most noble and righteous Heaven's Ward revealed themselves to be traitors. Not only that, but they were Primals save but name, gorging on the desperate prayers of our people for salvation. The Archbishop, the Knights, then entire Orthodoxy was simply a machine for faith, for the power of Godhood and the might to bend a world to the whims of a madman. And among them was Ser Ignasse, the man who I adored as a mentor and a friend, even after he did nothing to spare me from my wrongly ascribed fate. A man whom I wondered if I should pity or despise, so thoroughly had be betrayed my trust and the trust of all those who believed in him.

For such a foulness to corrupt even these finest of men, it had to live at the heart of it all. I know not if the Holy See had always conspired to reap our fear for their own ends, or if the lies of the past had been seeded and forgotten, and it was only by the hand of Thordan VII that the decision was made to betray everything we stand for? Was it the machinations of the Ascians that darkened his heart with promises of power, those begins whom we now know to have orchestrated many of the woes ascribed to the sins of the Garleans, or did that hunger and lust for something more always exist within him? Or had our people been lead astray from the start, from the moment the deception was born, and each generation built upon the bones of the last to turn our fear and hatred of the dragons into a weapon mighty enough to smite them and rob them of all that which we could have built together?

Of course, questions of this nature do not present themselves so readily on the field of battle. When a war rages all around you, you often do not question all that which has brought you to its doorstep, only how to move forward. And the same question was posed to Ishgard when the sword Ascalon fell from the grip of Thordan, with his Knights of the Round slain at last, with the eyes of Nidhogg divorced from another host who had once sworn to slay the beast with all he had. When the corruption that had been born in the hearts of the church still burned in many of the fervent and the faithful, with so much vitriol that even after pardons had been passed they would threaten myself and my family, cry out for my blood as a traitor, and accuse my sister of laying with dragons.

Even after the war had subsided, and for the first time in a millennium could the people of Ishgard at last choose a new and better path, the voices that had poisoned us rose into a louder and more violent crescendo. And thus did the consequences of our ancestors actions continue to spiral out of control, to divide us and conquer us within our hearts where the greatest battle is fought for the soul of us all. Our legacy would be forever stained with blood, or people truly divided between faith and truth, and the shade of Nidhogg's power would go on to plague lands beyond our own, for he would not rest even when consigned to the deepest and darkest abyss from whence no one should have been able to return.

With so many questions left behind of the nature of the Holy See and the path that must be walked, it was with the greatest reticence that I took up the position I had long coveted. Where the Heaven's Ward had once served to protect the Archbishop and the authority of the church, no longer did their need to be a shield to protect the lies which were woven. We required a new purpose much like our people, and I took up the sword knowing that I would need to confront those questions on behalf of Ishgard where once I was merely a victim of them.

The Heaven's Ward would have to become something different, our new role dedicated to the people of Ishgard, her safety, and in serving our new place amongst our allies of the Eorzean alliance. Each day I took the steps I thought would carry us to a brighter future, while the shadow of Ser Ignasse stretched behind me, dogging my steps and doubting my conviction. If one such as he had faltered and fallen to the darkness, then how could I hope to be any different? It boiled inside me, rage, fear, hatred, regret, all the things he must have felt to drive him to make the decisions he did. How could I hope to be any better, when the best among us could not resist the clarion call of sinister power?

To this day I still have no answer for that. I still do not know if I am truly worthy of the office which I hold, or if I too will succumb to the same damning influences that consumed my idols and turned them away from their people. I can only hope, through my own deeds and my commitment to those I have lost upon my path, that I can provide to Ishgard even a modicum of the grace and prosperity its people deserve, and I would be willing to give my life in order to bring it to fruition. The sins of the past should ever serve as a reminder, not that those who came before us failed, but that any of us can be found fallible, and that it is in the ability to correct our mistakes that makes us great, not our inability to make them at all.

- Excerpt from the personal journal and accounts of Ser Faiolan Penderghast, Knight of the Heaven's Ward

[vrishchikawrites]

If you're still taking prompts, how about WWX becoming a god after he dies in the siege? It's hard to slander someone when you have a proof of their benevolence like this. I always loved the concept. He's strong and good enough to ascend, especially since in his last actions he chose to spare those who wronged him and destroy the seal. And now LZ needs to catch up ;)

(we'll need to hand wave some of the genre constants here. apologies!)

It happens in Qinghe. The Nie Clan hosts a Martial Arts conference and Lan Wangji accompanies Lan Xichen even though he's not inclined to. He has just come out of seclusion and socialization is the last thing on his mind.

But his brother insists and Wangji is hesitant to deny. The Unclean Realm is bustling with activity and Wangji feels the strain of it keenly. There's something off in the air.

It isn't until he meets Nie Mingjue that he realizes just what is off.

The man looks furious instead of stern and commanding. Nie Mingjue has always had a temper but Wangji has never seen him quite this unsettled. His eyes seem blood-shot and his expression is almost cruel. There's an odd, dissonant energy around him that alarms Wangji.

Xichen, Jin Guangyao, and Nie Mingjue seem to be arguing in some fashion, Wangji was too far away to understand their conversation but Nie Mingjue's voice was loud and enraged.

"Da-ge," Nie Huaisang's worried voice catches his attention and he turns to look in his direction. His expression conveys his anxiety for his brother clearly. Nie Huaisang is studying the scene before him with furrowed brows and uncharacteristically shrewd eyes, "Wangji-xiong, what do you think of this?"

At first, Wangji is hesitant to comment. This isn't his concern and he is certain Xichen will help if help is needed.

But something in Nie Huaisang's tone makes him hesitate. He is obviously seeking comfort.

Wangji studies the scene once again, noting with concern that even his brother is looking disturbed by Nie Mingjue's rage, "He is dangerously unstable. Xiongzhang's Song of Clarity isn't working?"

Nie Huaisang purses his lips and shakes his head, "San-ge plays it regularly but it doesn't seem to help." He waves his fan in agitation, "Nothing seems to help."

Wangji has nothing else to say. He's not good with casual conversations or comforting words. It is usually his brother who knows how to say the right thing at the right time.

"I wish Wei-xiong was here." Wangji stills at the soft whisper, "He would know what to do- no one knows Resentful Energy like he did."

Wangji takes a deep breath, keeping his gaze fixed on the middle distance. "Mentioning him is forbidden." He has kept Wei Ying's name close to his heart, untainted and loved instead of being tossed around and slandered.

His Wei Ying.

"You don't need to pretend to dislike him," Nie Huaisang says, eyes fixed on his brother, "Unlike everyone else, I knew his true self well enough. Almost as well as you did."

Wangji feels a curl of bitter amusement, "I did not know him."

Nie Huaisang waves his fan and remains silent for a long moment before speaking, "Believe me, Wangji-xiong, you were the only one who knew him."

Wangji has no reply.

--

Unfortunately, the situation does escalate beyond their control. Nie Mingjue has clearly lost control and is on the verge of qi deviation. He swings his sword aimlessly. Neither Wangji's guqin nor Xichen's flute do much to help.

Nie Huaisang is screaming, struggling against Jin Guangyao, trying to reach his increasingly volatile brother.

Nothing is helping. Wangji fears he may be forced to watch his brother's closest friend die.

Later, when questioned, he would say his prayer had been instinctive, coming deep from within him. He would say that he hadn't even thought when he spoke those words. That it hadn't even registered when he opened his mouth and said them out loud.

But in that moment, feeling something very close to panic at the sight of Nie Mingjue teetering close to the edge, he breaths out,

"Wei Ying, help."

The air around them stills the moment the last syllable slips past his lips. Nothing moves, no one speaks, the absence of sound was almost deafening.

Wangji feels the hair on his body stand on end the sound of swishing fabric fills the frozen atmosphere. He turns a little to see a swirl of black robes; rich, intricate, moving over the ground like smoke.

There's a fragrance of freshly dug earth and petrichor in the air, refreshing and earthy, but also strange. He's in the Unclean Realm and it hasn't rained in weeks.

Wangji takes a deep breath as the swish of fabric comes closer and then something as shockingly cold as snowmelt sweeps past him.

He already knows what he's about to see when he looks up.

Everything about him is pitch black. His hair is dark as ebony, falling down to the back of his knees. His robes seem to be made of shadows that suck in light. There are intricate lace and gold patterns on the sleeves. They look like talismans but Wangji cannot tell.

"Wei Ying," He calls softly.

Because Wangji knew it was him even before he saw him.

The air unfreezes and everyone comes to life once again, dazed and bewildered. Wangji hears Nie Huaisang draw in a sharp, shocked breath. He is the first to notice Wei Ying but others follow quickly. There are loud exclamations of surprise and many unsheathe their swords.

Wei Ying doesn't react. He lifts his hand, crooks a pale finger, and a mass of dark energy extracts itself from Nie Mingjue.

It is so quick, so unceremonious, that everyone is stunned.

Wei Ying studies it, condenses it into a small ball, and without pause, crushes it in his fist.

Nie Mingjue stumbles to his feet, clutching onto Baxia and staring at Wei Ying with wide eyes, "Wei Wuxian."

"You were destined to die today," Wei Ying says in a calm, dismissive tone, "The Nie Sect was destined to fade into obscurity." His voice is soft but there are layers to it, like a thousand individuals speaking in perfect harmony.

Nothing about Wei Ying is human. His voice is sonorous, entirely intimidating. His skin is as fair as white jade. His silver eyes are as bright as the moon. He looks regal, with an intricate hair piece holding the sweeping mass of ebony hair in place.

"You..." Xichen begins, looking just as hesitant as Wangji feels. Fortunately, his brother regains his composure quickly and bows, "Wei Wuxian, thank you for saving Nie Mingjue."

"I hold dominion over Justice." Wei Ying declares and Wangji carefully tucks his trembling hands behind his back, "Of course, I will answer the wishes of the most righteous man in Cultivation." He taps his chin with a smirk, an echo of a Wei Ying Wangji knows, loves, misses, "My affections for Lan Zhan play a part too, I suppose."

"Justice?" Nie Huaisang asks, "Because you died for a just cause?"

Wei Wuxian glances over his shoulder and Wangji meets that enchanting silver gaze with a racing heart.

"Perhaps," Wei Ying says teasingly, "I may be a deity, but even I am subject to the whims of fate."

He speaks as thought dominion over something like justice is an easy feat, like it doesn't imply immeasurable power.

"You were killed-" Nie Mingjue growls out, "For your unjust actions."

"Da-ge!" Xichen warns, glancing at Wei Ying warily.

"Don't remind me," Wei Ying says pleasantly, "For that call for justice still weighs heavy. You will all have to pay your dues, even you, Lan Zhan."

Wangji nods briefly, "I understand."

"Forgive me," Jin Guangyao interrupts, "Surely, you must understand our concern and puzzlement. Wei-gongzi, forgive me, you were-"

"You're not forgiven." Wei Ying tilts his head to the side, "I wonder, Jin Guangyao, if you think I am so easy to charm and deceive." Jin Guangyao stills, going worryingly pale, "You cannot kill me, slander me, manipulate others against me, or force me into a corner. I am Justice." Silver eyes sweep over all of them.

Wei Ying's eyes linger over Jin Guangyao's shaken expression before flickering over Xichen and Nie Mingjue.

"No one may escape me."

There's a sweeping wave of energy and everything freezes again.

Wangji remains stiff and silent as Wei Ying appears suddenly before him, leaning close enough that their breaths to mingle. Those eyes look even more otherworldly now, sparkling with the light of a thousand stars.

"Hanguang-jun," Wei Ying croons, "Don't keep your Wei Ying waiting for too long, hm?"

Wangji clenches his shaking hands, the proximity making his heart ache, "My Wei Ying?" He asks because he still remembers 'get lost' spoken in a hysterical, frenetic voice.

Wei Ying's expression softens a little, "Death gives clarity, my dear Lan Zhan. And ascension gives insight into fate and destiny. Wei Ying," He says and spins around cheekily, taking a few dancing steps away from him, "Wei Ying is always destined to be by Hanguang-jun's side." He winks, "Better hurry up! But not too soon! After our a-Yuan is old enough to stand on his own."

"Wei Ying - wait-"

The air starts moving again.

Wangji swallows and spins around, walking towards the gates of the Unclean Realm.

"Wangji-?"

"I must go ahead, xoingzhang, pray excuse me." He has no patience for Sect politics and formalities.

Wei Ying is waiting.

[ouraniaaphrodite]

Nobody's Toy

Request from @je199109

Holly was only minutes away from taking her vows to be a part of the church when disaster had struck. First an earthquake, then a flood before a fire. And strangely enough, it seemed to only happen in the church.

The priests and nuns had shared significant and fearful looks before vanishing to do something, leaving the yet to be nuns and priests in the prayer hall. Holly could hear prayers echoing through the building, they all could. But they could also hear hissing and sizzling. Then came the cries and shouts, the terrified shrieks and then absolute silence. No one spoke, everyone too afraid to actually speak. Then the doors burst inwards.

At the door stood a man with snow white hair and wearing a cloth for pants that seemed to sizzle at the edges. On his back were two great white wings and in his hand a whip of fire. His eyes were blood red, streams of pulsating veins on the surrounding skin of his eyes.

One of the women in the room screamed and the man lashed his whip onto her. Immediately her entire body turned completely black, before she began to spasm. Two reptilian wings burst out from her back and horns grew on her forehead. Her tongue hung out of her mouth and slowly turned snake like and long. Her eyes went from brown and white to completely black. Her clothes burned and she was left nude, a fully fledged succubus.

Holly watched with stunned silence as the man lashed around and slowly turned every other human in there into either a succubus or an incubus. In the end it was just her and the horde of sex demons and the man.

Please, no

The man seemed to just smile at her, charmingly at that. Holly had found herself lost in the smile. She did not notice the man moving to sit on the bench at the very front, nor did she notice two succubi grasping her and pulling for towards him. Her senses cane back to her when she was sat on the man's lap.

Please! Let me go! I didn't do anything! Please!

Do you know who I am, girl?

N..no. Please, I beg of you to let me go.

I am the devil girl. Mercy for your kind is from god anf god only. I only make demons out of humans. Like I did with Lilith all those years ago.

B...but...

I don't look like all the representations? How could I when your kind tarnished my image. I was once an angel girl, the most beautiful of them all. And you have reduced me into some horned gremlin?! No, there shall be no mercy for you.... But I do have other ideas for you...

Holly squirmed to get free from him, but all she did was make him harder. She could feel him against her ass, the length and girth of the entire thing making her mind haze over. He was so big, so big and....

No! I can't. No!

But no matter how much she fought against it, she couldn't help but picture it. She was riding, he was splitting her in half. Lucifer's powers were invading her thoughts, corrupting them, turning them against her.

The devil made her straddle him anf them claimed her lips. She didn't fight this time. Her body betrayed her and her will shattered. The fallen angel's tongue invaded her mouth and she moaned at the taste of him. He tasted too good. The clothes she wore were stripped away and and the devil slammed his entire length into her tight virgin pussy.

You can't do what your brother does because he is a boy and you are a girl. Girls should be chaste and proper and subservient to the boys.

Holly suddenly found herself looking at a memory so old that she had forgotten about. It was when she wanted to play the games her brother played. One after the other memories came abd went, all of them having the same theme. People held her back, for being a girl, for being weaker and smaller. She was punished for speaking out of turn and being hard headed while her brother got away with it. Them came high school and suddenly she was sent to some church school while her brother went to the best high school and later college. It was clear her parents did not want her. And all of that brought a sort of resentment in her that she didn't know she had.

Her anger, her rage and her hate, coupled with Lucifer's powers and other physical members invading her made something in her snap and she felt a sudden surge of disgustingly hot energy.

The devil on the other hand had been watching the girl ride him like a mindless drone until she suddenly began to glow red from her eyes and mouth. Right on top of his lap he watched her change, watched as her dark hair turned bright, her modest breasts inflate and sag just a bit. Marks appeared around her body in patterns and shapes. Her bottom became plump and her plain figure curved.

She put her hands on the devil's shoulders and rode him herself as more of her changed. They both reached their climax in unison just as her transformation hit it's end.

Such a beautiful pet you've become.

Holly looked at him before reaching behind his head, grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head back.

I am nobody's pet, I am no slave to anybody's whims and wishes and beliefs. I am the one in power now. I AM THE QUEEN NOW!

For thr first time in his life, the devil felt a bit of fear. And that fear turned him on even more.

Of course, my Queen.

[unoisveimved-un-proffesional]

I guess I’m most sorry for the people who I can’t help. In a twisted fusion of self loathing and compassion, I just feel kind of hurt that there are people out there who I just can’t help, not yet, or not ever. I understand why humans invented prayer. But I renounced the belief in a gods power in favor of the certainty of my own, and I am certain it is not enough to help everyone, but damn it if I won’t at least try, because I’ll never know unless I try, and sometimes, you really can help people. I have definitely failed people, I’ve failed to save a life, one I was indebted to, a debt I will never pay off now. If I am not the most Catholic Atheist Occultist, heh. I hope some day, no, I will fight for a day, where I will be able to give people the help they need on a whim, like a truly benevolent god, down here with the people, show that fucker up there, those fuckers up there what for, what real charity and love for all of creation looks like, what real help for humanity and advancement of society is. Some day. But that day is not today, and until I reach that summit, I too will have to squirm and fight to hang on like everyone else. I guess it’s only those who’ve suffered for it who will truly appreciate finally being there, at the top. So at least I’m not wasting that, while I myself waste away…

I feel like an old wise oak tree watching people deal with mental struggles I have reconciled with. However I talk like I just ate rainbow mushrooms off the sidewalk and have a wasted phd, even though I have neither of those things, and so my old oak tree experience cannot be turned into wisdom, and it just kinda sucks that I can’t really help them. It really kicks me in my gut, my gut which tells me to console and help everyone I can.

[wallwriterstuff]

Foundling ||Caius Volturi x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of neglect and absent parent

Words: 4176

Taglist: @thelastemzy​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​ @a-avaunce​ @college-is-coming​ @alecvolturiswifeforever​ @broskibowser​ @volturidoll13​ @raindancer2004​ (hopefully this actually works this time!)

Summary: A request for @like-rain-or-confetti​ 

Caius has done a lot of terrible things over the course of his life, and the one good thing he did do he was never allowed to keep. After centuries of waiting, she finally gets to confront him for all of his deeds, the good and the bad. 

Most who knew Caius knew him for his rage, but not very many understood where that rage came from. It was like a chronic disease that plagued him always, the slightest things setting his volatile mood off. No, the blonde king was a ticking time bomb and whoever came across him knew all the while to tread carefully lest they lose a limb at best, their head at worst. His reputation proceeded him, his brutality well renowned, so the Cullen’s witnesses knew better than to cross Caius when he was busy warmongering, and he most certainly had tried his best to instigate something given that the Denali had had to inhale their sister’s ashes.  

“We cannot know the child will not be dangerous!”

“Regardless they have been consorting with werewolves, our sworn enemies.”

Edward could only hold his family tight and pray for reprieve, watching Caius scrabble for any excuse to end those he held dear because of one mistake. Granted, that mistake had grown rapidly to be the very centre of his world and he would not trade his daughter for anything, but despite her lovable nature Renesmee was very much his creation and the very reason his whole family was now in danger. It was a difficult conundrum to wrap his head around and he still didn’t have all the right answers but he had people on his side to support him, and for Edward that was enough. Caius didn’t relent. Marcus spared him a pitying glance, Aro’s eyes less forgiving but nonetheless understanding, and Edward caught the briefest glimpse then of everything that made Caius what he was. The root of all of his anger and hostility stemmed not from his lack of gift as so many assumed, but from a small, infant girl.

He couldn’t quite contain his surprise. Aro was very good at controlling his thoughts around him but this one had slipped free. Caius looked so much softer in this memory, all of his rough edges filed away. For once, his eyes were not filled with hate and fire but wonder and trepidation, a bit of fear perhaps. Edward recognised those eyes immediately even if he didn’t understand how he had found them in Caius’s face of all people, because those were the eyes he had looked at Renesmee with when he pulled her free of his mate’s womb. It was the doting, adoring expression of a father who held his world in the centre of his palm. Caius was not voting to kill Renesmee out of fear for their species, but out of centuries worth of spite, spite that Edward had what he could not.

He had given up his daughter.

Caius was the first to leave the battlefield, his jaw twitching as he fought the urge to snarl, and even Athenodora didn’t dare follow him for a while. For those who knew him best they were able to feel the hurt radiating beneath all that rage, and for the weeks that followed even their own guard members felt unsafe in his presence. Demetri and Felix had caught one of the lower guard sneaking from the castle, his hand freshly reattached – Aro had let him go when he saw why the younger vampire had wanted to flee. Even Jane had been a little ashen once when she returned from the dungeons with him, Caius looking no more satisfied than he had when he went in while she all but collapsed in her brother’s embrace. As the weeks dragged to months, Aro couldn’t help but think it was time to do something. Caius had spent more time locked in the tower the week previous than he had with them, seeking comfort from his mate. It gave them plenty of time to talk.

“It has been centuries Aro, the man deserves peace.”

“I had thought time would heal this wound, that for the sake of Athenodora he might have moved on.”

“The love of a father is far stronger than the forces of time.”

So Demetri became the first of the guard to know of this well-kept secret the very next day. His shock was quite obvious, his curiosity to, but he knew better than to ask questions as Aro described the girl, thought of the infant she had been when they last saw her, and gave him all the information he might need to grasp her tenor.

“I trust your discretion can be counted on, dear boy?” Aro asked. Demetri had nodded once, then turned and left without so much as a goodbye to the others. The tenor was warm and vibrant, something he could easily get lost in. Demetri only paused in his searching to hunt here and there, rest briefly in a few hotels while he washed and traced the tenor in the forefront of his mind more thoroughly, but his feet carried him swiftly out of Italy and into Germany, through Eastern Europe and into Asia. He was surrounded by the colours and aromas of cultures he had not seen for a few decades. Usually Asia was quiet, the peoples having so many myths, legends and folklore that it was easy for a nomad to blend in, their slip ups often cleaned up by the humans that recognised the demonic nature of the mysterious deaths they left behind and tried to rectify the situation through prayer and ritual. It served as a better warning they were attracting too much attention than any Volturi visit could – they had trained the humans well in this regard.

Demetri finally stopped alongside a high rise building in Yokohama, Japan. The city was the second most populated in Japan, a good place to hunt and hide for a hybrid he was sure. The tenor was brightest here, many floors above him, and Demetri pondered exactly how best to go about engaging with his target for a moment. He could sneak into the building and into her apartment but he didn’t want to startle the poor girl, especially not since he had no clue whether or not she was gifted – he didn’t fancy getting his ass lit on fire to find out. He could always wait to see if she emerged, follow her from a distance, though that was another sure way to startle her if she caught him. Peeling away from the wall, he seamlessly blended into the human traffic on the pathway, pulling his phone from his pocket to search for a hotel as he walked along. He would withdraw for now, ‘bump’ into her on the street as a random passer-by and hope his obvious vampirism was enough to make her approach him.

It took her less than 24 hours to move and, dressed down in some casual clothes, he set out to follow her. Eyes covered by irritating contacts, he made his way through the Sankeien Gardens, following discretely as she took a leisurely stroll across the acres of land dotted with colourful spring blossoms and buildings older than most of the humans wondering the place. She seemed quite content to take her time, lifting her phone to take pictures here and there of flowers and views she liked. Demetri played the part of the awed tourist well, trailing her for an hour and a half before they seemed to have looped the entire expanse of the Gardens and ended up back at the pond they had walked around at the start. She sat herself on a bench, staring out over the water with mystifying blue eyes. She still stood out from the others around her though, her posture a little too straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, a child of her time out of place amongst modern mortals.

“You would look far less suspicious if you took a seat.” He had no doubt that she was talking to him. Lips twitching into a smirk, he did exactly as she asked. Hands in his pockets, he sat beside her on the bench, his eyes fixed on the pond before them. The shock of white-blonde hair on her head was almost proof enough she was Caius’s daughter, but he still had to check.

“The sakura blossoms make for a beautiful view, Carina.” He said. She visibly stiffened, her fast-fluttering heart pounding strongly in his ears. She had that vampiric twinge to her scent, something overly sweet that marked her as vampire and tangled nicely with the deliciously human side of her, much like Rensemee.

“Volturi.” She hissed quietly.

Demetri chuckled wryly. “So, my reputation proceeds me.”

“I have not been known by that name for many centuries. Only one coven would still recall it.” She griped, fists clenching a little in her lap. Demetri glanced at her then, taking in the sharp cheekbones and square jawline that he saw often in his Master’s face. The glare she wore was vicious.

“Do not make me use violence in a place as beautiful as this princess.” He threatened idly, gaze returning to the water as powerful lights threw beams across the surface, making it glimmer darkly. The sun had disappeared long ago or he wouldn’t have been out to follow her, the overcast day turning more quickly into night-time.

“So that is all, is it? I am to be hauled away from my home without negotiation or warning on the whim of a madman?” she sniffed. Demetri looked at her curiously.

“You speak ill of a man whom you barely know.” He mused.

“I know enough.” She retorted sharply, her eyes meeting his. The piercing blue made his curious mind race – because Athenodora could not be her mother so who had given her those eyes? – but he kept his expression cool and collected. Demetri stood to offer her a hand, one she eyed with distaste and distrust. He had no ill-intentions, but a little charm never hurt, especially not when he wanted to get his way with as little effort expended as possible.

“My contacts will not last forever, I will need to go somewhere more private to change them if we are to make the most of this evening before we depart.” He informed her. Her eyebrow arched high, her expression one of disbelief.

“What, pray tell, do you think we would be doing this evening?” she questioned. He smirked.

“It has been quite a while since I visited Japan, even then my last trip was to Tokyo. This is your city princess, show me why I should let you stay.” He invited. She scoffed.

“We both know your orders would not allow for such a thing…does your silver tongue work most other times?” she wondered, slipping her hand in his and letting him pull her up. He blinked in surprise as she dusted off the backs of her jeans. Most women took to his charm easily, but apparently Carina was as stubborn as her father.

“I…” he paused, wondering how to make her change her mind. She smirked, head shaking and sending silken sheets of straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

“It appears to be broken entirely now, I would get that checked this evening while I pack a few essentials, if I were you.” She was already moving away by the time his brain caught up, and despite her obvious disdain for the idea, she was packed and ready to acquiesce his escort to Volterra. For all her stubbornness however not even she could fight off the physical needs her mortality demanded, and Demetri found himself standing watch over the would-be Princess as she slept in a hotel in Florence. The even rise and fall of her chest gave him a pattern for his thoughts to echo, an endless ebbing and flowing of questions he couldn’t find answers to. Carina had not been forthcoming in giving any and he somehow doubted that the Masters’ would be either. She was clearly displeased to be here, her sleep interrupted several times and a small frown creasing her brow for most of the night. It was an expression he only saw when she was unconscious and let her guard down.

She woke to an unconscious man in their penthouse living space, the corpse of his wife already lay atop the glass coffee table while Demetri sat with an ankle resting on the opposite knee, newspaper in hand. With an ungracious snort, she dragged her prey back into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her for good measure, only opening it to toss the body out once it was drained for him to deal with. Demetri’s eyes rolled a little. He wondered if Caius knew his hybrid daughter was an eternally dramatic, angsty teenager, and questioned if putting them in the same room together was a good idea. It was bound to be like watching two fireballs collide. Trusting her not to run while he was away, he left via the balcony to dispose of their meals while she got ready for the day.

He returned to find her with her bag by the door, looking smarter than he had seen her during their travels back to Italy.

“How unusually refined.” He commented, stooping to swing her bag onto his shoulder. She scoffed.

“You are planning on offering me up like a pig on a platter like a good little toy soldier are you not?” she retorted icily, “I best look the part lest your silver tongue not be the only thing about you broken.” Demetri frowned slightly, watching her carefully as they played the part of happy couple departing their hotel suite. Gianna had sent a car, something with air conditioning and plush leather so they wouldn’t have to exhaust themselves with another run. For most of the drive the radio played quietly between them, her eyes concealed behind sunglasses and staring out over the luxurious rolling hills and fields of vibrant green. When he was certain there was not too long of the journey left, and therefore not enough time for her to throw him out of the car and turn it around, he finally broke his silence.

“You seem to believe the worst of your father.”

She heaved a weary sigh. “His reputation proceeds him.”

Demetri kept his eyes on the road, weighing his words carefully. He had been a member of the guard long enough to know Caius’s behaviour was not unusual, and he had been in the higher guard long enough to hear snippets of conversation amongst the wives, amongst the Masters’. Seeing the confrontation with the Cullen’s and sitting in a car with her now it was quite obvious to him the source of his Master’s vexation.

“And if his words and actions were fuelled not by anger, but grief?” he questioned, voice quiet. She showed no outward sign of having heard him but the most minute clenching of her jaw was enough to prove to him he had given her food for thought, and with that they lapsed back into silence. It was not entirely pleasant, and the air between them stagnated long after they entered Volterra. She kept her head held high, her expression aloof. It was obvious to Demetri how alike they were now – they both were grieving and wore their pain like armour. He paused only briefly at the doors, just enough time for her to steel herself with a sharp inhale, and then he opened the doors. She lingered behind him as he strode forward, bowing slightly and glancing among his Masters’. Aro waved him away without fanfare, his eyes fixed on the young girl behind him. She stood just a little taller than Jane, petite and lithe much like her father.

Caius seemed absolutely rooted to the spot, his nostrils flaring as he took in deep lungful’s of air that was rapidly becoming saturated with her scent, the scent he had inhaled like an addict off a baby blanket till it ran dry. Aro drifted down the steps to meet her, Caius’s fingernail’s scraping the wooden armrests of his throne as he struggled to keep a myriad of emotions off of his face.

“Dear Carina, how good it is to see you home.” He sighed, extending a hand toward her. She stared at it in disgust.

“If I recall you were the one who ordered me sent away in the first place. I did not return for you, so let us be done with this charade father.” She stepped around Aro gracefully, leaving him quite obviously dumbfounded and irritated, his hand slowly falling back to his side. Caius shot to his feet like he was ready to flee, but he remained stock still as Alec warily drifted closer to him, palms turned out and ready to defend his Master at all costs. The sight of him and Jane drifting to his side seemed to enrage her.

“Carina…”

“Do not dare call me that name!” she snarled, “How long did it take you to replace me?” she cast a filthy look in Jane’s direction and the young girl growled quietly in response. Demetri almost flinched.

“They were Aro’s acquisition, not mine.” He retorted. There was absolutely no bite in his tone, all his bluster gone despite his rigid stance. Caius looked more powerless than ever as she folded her arms, staring at him expectantly. She had worn a short-sleeved dress for the occasion and her skin shimmered faintly in the light drizzling in through high windows. The tension was palpable.

“Leave us, dear ones.” Aro ordered. Demetri hesitated, frowning slightly, and he could see Alec and Jane’s obvious reluctance to leave to. Another firm order got them moving however, and Carina glanced back at him with agonised eyes. Demetri paused, searching her face and finding nothing more than a terrified young girl who didn’t want to face a father she knew nothing about by herself. He gave her the slightest of nods, a small and encouraging smile twitching up his lips. They were barely out of the throne room when the shouting began, and it lasted for hours. Nowhere in the castle was exempt from the noise and it quickly spread like wildfire that Caius’s daughter had returned, and she had quite the mouth on her.

“So you refuse to even see me now?” Caius demanded. If his voice had wavered nobody was so idiotic as to comment on it. Fists clenched, she trembled with rage.

“Tell me what there is to see but a petrified old man who let centuries pass before he decided to step up as a father!” her words were precise and cut deeply.

“I thought of you daily!”

“Do not attach thoughts of me to the atrocities you have committed!” she spat. Caius had faltered at that. For hours she had done nothing but scream about what a monster he was, about the things she had heard he had done. He sank slowly to the steps leading to his throne, unable to meet her eyes anymore. His grip was so tight the marble crumbled beneath his hands and he was left grasping at air.

“I…I wanted this world to be made safe for you…I…I tried to do right by you…”his upper lip curled back over his teeth, his expression a mask of rage it had taken centuries to perfect, one that concealed an unimaginable amount of agony.

“Do right by me?” she asked incredulously, “You abandoned me! I grew up without you, with no caretaker who ever understood me, shunned from one place to the next because you had seen fit to throw me away! My own father could not bear to raise the freak he had created.” Caius’s head snapped up and for the first time in centuries, he took a deep breath. He tried his best to quell the rage that simmered in his core, to shove aside the guilt and the grief. His daughter matched him like for like. She was his reflection, a carbon copy of his rage, and fighting fire with fire was not going to work. He was finally defeated.

“My war against the Children of the Moon led me to your door. I watched, as the filthy beast stared through the window…stared at you…you slept so peacefully, entirely unaware that the coven I had tasked with protecting you had failed…when I, when I returned to glimpse you one more time you – you were already gone.” The mere memory pained him, shamed him. The Irish had moved on so fast he hadn’t even been able to track them, their scent confused amongst the stink of wolves. Carina swallowed.

“Why? Why not visit me?” she demanded. Caius remained silent. What could he say? “Answer me! You owe me this! I always wandered where you were, why you let me go so easily! You owe me these answers.” Caius could only stare at her. She had grown since he held her last, no longer able to fit in the palm of his hand. She was the size of a sixteen-year old with a mind a millenia older, capable of recalling every wrong doing and forming opinions on the level of injustice each one carried.

“You have your mother’s eyes.” He blurted. It was all he could think to say, but it stopped the conversation dead. The silence rang around them, deafening in the wake of their previous screaming match. What were they doing? Their sweet reunion sullied by such foul words…

“Who…who was my mother?” she asked hesitantly. Caius sucked in a breath.

“A peasant girl,” he confessed quietly, “One Athenodora took a liking to and insist we…play with, for a while.” His voice echoed back to him off of the walls, Carina’s flinch something he didn’t miss. She nodded slowly.

“So, I was not even born of love.” She whispered.

“Perhaps not, but that did not mean I did not love you, the moment I held you in my arms…you were so small, so fragile for this world…how could I keep you when our enemies lingered at our door? You had to be safe, and safe was…was far away from me.” He swallowed, unable to look at her anymore. He was surprised when she shuffled towards the steps, keeping a few feet between them but sitting beside him nonetheless. Even with the distance he could still feel her heat, her temperature radiating from her like he was sat by an open flame. Another prolonged silence prevailed between them once more, and Caius wasn’t sure how to chase it away. How did he own up to centuries of ignorance? Of wrong-doing? How did he make any of this better?

Carina sighed heavily. “We have really made a mess of this.”

He looked to her in surprise, his shoulders sagging slightly in defeat.

“We have,” he agreed quietly, “But I should very much like to fix it, if you will permit me to try.” Carina quietly contemplated what that might look like for them for a moment, trying to imagine a world where her father was in her life. It had been so long and she had grown up without him…it was difficult to imagine where Caius might fit.

“I don’t need a father. I have grown out of the need for one.” Carina said quietly. Caius snapped his gaze away, a stiff nod all the acknowledgment she received. What had he expected really? A happy reunion?

“I see.” He murmured, pushing to his feet. Demetri had left her bag by the door and he was quite sure she would have no trouble picking it up on the way out.

“I do need a friend,” she spoke up, making his head turn, “I am especially in want of one who might know more about where I came from, if you could point me in the right direction.” Caius swallowed, not quite able to believe his ears. A slow smile twitched his lips upwards.

“I believe I may be able to assist you.” He agreed. Carina gave him a weak smile in reply, and Caius silently vowed it would be the first of many she gave him.

“I shall find accommodation then.” She decided. Caius immediately shook his head.

“Not at all. You may have a room here, you are welcome to one.” He said hastily. He would not lose her so soon after he had found her once more. Carina’s eyebrows rose.

“Will Demetri be nearby?” she asked innocently. Caius couldn’t help the scowl that wormed its way onto his face.

“And why does the location of his quarters matter?” he retorted. Carina grinned impishly.

“Because the pretty boy is not as clever as he likes to think he is and I did, admittedly, enjoy tormenting him on the journey here.” She confessed freely. Caius tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. Oh, oh she was his daughter alright.

“Something might be arranged.” He agreed.

“Wonderful.”

“If he is not cursing you within a week of your stay I will class your mission as a failure.”

“I will have him begging you to move him elsewhere I assure you.”

“Excellent.”

[thatboomerkid]

SpellJammer: Shadow of the Spider Moon (Additional Campaign Materials)

part of the Player’s Packet (ver 1.3)

for use with the First Edition Pathfinder Role-Playing Game

by Clinton J. Boomer

with special thanks to Andy Collins, Scott Schomburg, Chloe Michelle, Dennis Detwiller, David Gerrold,and George Loki Williams

additional campaign materials may be found here

All SpellJammer: Shadow of the Spider-Moon campaign materials are brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, now and forever, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

RELIGION ACROSS PYRESPACE

Yondalla and Her Saints: The Hin – and, by extension, all those they conquer – practice a monotheistic faith, worshiping a single bountiful earth-mother-deity, Yondalla, alongside an astonishing number of her Saints; the Church also recognizes the power of Asmodeus, King of Hell and Master of Devils, who is commanded by Yondalla to punish the wicked.

Technically, Asmodeus and his Seven Devil Princes – Dispater, the Iron King; Mammon, the Spirit in Gold; Belial, the Pale Kiss; Geryon, the Serpent; Moloch, the Ashen Bull; Baalzebul, Lord of the Flies; and Mephistopheles, the Merchant of Souls – are all Saints of the Church.

The Ordo Repentia Infernalis serves as the “secret” inquisitorial arm of the Church: dedicated to the tracking & execution of heretics, especially (but not limited to) worshippers of Dagon.

Many of the other Saints recognized by the Church of Yondalla are, in point of fact, actually deities once worshiped by various (now conquered) human cultures, deemed inoffensive enough to be folded into Mother Church as “blessed of Yondalla, beautified in her holy light”.

Direct worship of these Saints is illegal (a form of idolatry), but observation of a Saint’s holy day — in accordance with Church Law — is encouraged. In some of the more culturally relaxed parts of Cyrrolaelee, for example, prayers to Saint Fharlanghn are as common as prayers to Yondalla.

Other Saints, such as St. Davian, are near-mythologized historical figures.

---

Corellon and Lolth: To be clear, “worship” is a strong word.

That said, the elves of Perianth venerate quite deeply the honored, immortal founders of their august race, seeking the guidance and blessing – in equal measure – of their Emperor and Empress in all things.

The Western Courts identify Corellon as a sun-deity (the Phoenix Emperor) and Lolth as a moon-goddess (the Beautiful Eclipse), while the Eastern Courts refer to Corellon as a lunar deity (the Moonlit Dragon) and Lolth as a sun-goddess (the Crimson Empress).

No matter the court, Corellon is regarded as master over the wild Seelie, while Lolth is understood to be mistress over the demonic Unseelie.

---

Dagon: The single unifying, founding principle of the Ordo Repentia Infernalis is to seek-out the extermination of Dagon, the Shadow in the Sea, false god who sleeps beneath the waves, and of all who bow in fealty to him. 

Of his horrid church, little enough needs be known: wicked dreams born of his thrashing nightmares in the black Abyss at the bottom of the world corrupt men to heresy, blasphemy, cannibalism, witchcraft, transmutation into horrid monstrosities of the deep, and human sacrifice.

The Court of Dagon

Although the vast, dark Shadow in the Sea is commonly understood to act, moment to moment, as the simplest and most ravenous of oceanic beasts -- an unthinking, thrashing monster of pure bloodthirsty instinct and hatred -- the Church of Yondalla identifies seven wicked spirits that serve him: dancing about his throne, attending to his every whim.

Shax, Demon Lord of Envy & Murder

Xoveron, Demon Lord Gluttony & Ruin

Areshkagal, Demon Lord of Greed & Riddles

Nocticula, Demon Lord of Lust & Beauty

Socothbenoth, Demon Lord of Pride & Perversity

Jubliex, Demon Lord of Sloth & Filth

Orcus, Demon Lord of Wrath & the Dead

The Inquisition makes special effort to watch the gargoyles under their care and in their service, as the race was known -- in ancient days -- to serve the demon Xoveron; many clergy members require that gargoyles under their command remain upon a strict diet, so as not to temp the spirit of gluttony.

---

Vasalissa the Beautiful: So little of “original” gnomish culture survives to the modern era – in the wake of countless cataclysms – that no unifying “faith” can be said to unite the diaspora of what was once the Circle of Gold.

That said, gnomes and warforged light candles and whisper quiet prayers to Vasalissa the Beautiful: a clever, tenacious protagonist who appears again and again across the deep storytelling tradition of the gnomish people: a sprawling, multilayered weave of tales that stretch back to the time of their world’s pre-history, the memorization of which borders on the spiritual.

Common tales in the canon – upon which every TRUE storyteller is expected to add his or her own unique twists – often deal with the trials, misadventures, and misfortunes of Vasalissa and a few other stock characters:

Mother Kindness (also called ‘Grandmother Kindness’)

The Child Dreamer

Greedy Glitterpot & Lumpy Fathead

The Hungry Baby

Elder Tree

The Honest Youth (sometimes ‘The Two Honest Youths’)

The Farmer’s Wife

Mocho & Pocho (one of whom is always hungry, and the other of which is always sleepy)

Cleverest Jack (sometimes with his twin brother, Mister Hubris)

The River Serpent

The First-Forged, and his three children: Stone, Wood, and Tin

Mean-Old-Two-Heads, the Giant

The Silent Wolf

Curiously, the natives of Fenris tell fantastic tales, in their own languages, nearly identical to the ancient legends of Vasalissa and her many adventures.

---

Cult of the Dragon Moons: As far as the Chirch of Yondalla is concerned, this organization is merely a group of deluded Dagon-worshipers seduced into a bizarre heresy obsessed with returning-to-life the ancient “dragons” that are said to have once ruled Pyrespace. 

This bizarre faith is known – and possibly native – to every world in the system, but is most prevalent in the jungles of Verdura and across the dunes of Ashen.

---

Moradin: The dwarves do not speak often of their religion, but keep it close to heart: burning, eternally, in a fortress of stone buried beneath their breast.

———

PYRESPACE TIMELINE

This timeline is based on the Yondallan calendar, which dates events to before and after the defeat of the giant Gol’Kaa by St. Davian (‘Ano Davia’ or the Year of Davian) and the subsequent rise of the Hin as the dominant form of life on Quelya.  

Although years, months and even days are difficult to translate between planetary bodies, this single system is still the most frequently used: the current official time and date are tracked at the Great Clockhouse of Lagas, maintained by the Church of Yondalla, and backed-up in the nation-city of Beshaba.

The average occupant of the system does NOT know most of these dates nor the majority of the  information presented here, with perhaps the exception of bolded items; these more-detailed notes are included simply for player reference, especially for the benefit of characters with an education in system-wide history.

—–

???? – the mysterious Precursors reign undisputed over the entirety of Pyrespace, preforming such impossible miracles as seeding humans across the system, uplifting the Crown of Sapphire to serve as a miniature star, crafting the Hole in the Infinite (a wormhole in orbit around the Crown of Sapphire), crafting the Celestial Pearl (for reasons unknown), establishing a number of now-fallen megastructures (cities, temples, and more esoteric objects) on every known world, and – according to several ancient records – the establishment of a now-vanished interplanetary “web-way”.

-1500 A.D. (approximate): The eastern and western courts of the elves unite beneath a single banner; the elven empire is established on Perianth under the immortal guidance of Corellon Larethian and his bride Lolth.

-1500 A.D. (approximate): The dwarven clans of Moradin’s Forge cease open hostilities with one another, establishing an uneasy truce in the face of heightened goblin aggression.

-1500 A.D. (approximate): On the Circle of Gold, conflicts between gnomes and ratfolk enclaves escalate into the First Rat-Slaughter; first generation warforged created; in the wake of their victory, gnomes begin experimentations in the craft of clockwork and establish significantly larger cities.

-1099 A.D.: Unexpected disaster strikes the gnome home-world, destroying much of their culture’s history and technological progress.

-807 A.D.: The five elven noble houses serving beneath House Larethian are founded in full.

-787 A.D.: Unexpected disaster strikes the gnome home-world, destroying much of the culture’s history and technological progress.

-391 A.D.: Unexpected disaster strikes the gnome home-world, destroying much of the culture’s history and technological progress.

-218 A.D.: The nation of Kozah-Talos (a human nation controlling much of what would later become Brandobaris) finish their conquest over the human nations of Malar and Umberlee (which occupied what would later become Arvoreen), uniting the majority of Quelya’s sole continent under a single war-banner: leaving only the human nation of Auril and the wild deserts surrounding the City of Beshaba outside of their control.

-205 A.D.: A diplomatic accord is reached; the nations of Kozah-Talos and Auril unite to form the modern nation of Brandobaris; distant ports and holdings of Old Auril – including the “Cities of Sisterhood,” Shar and Selune – secede, declaring themselves independent (as the Isles of Tymora).

-197 A.D.: Arvoreen established as single nation under Brandobarin control; Arvorean land used as a “training ground” for Brandobarin officers and a proving-ground for both troops and tactics for use in wars against Cyrrollalee, Urogolan, and the Isles of Tymora.

-101 A.D.: House Larethian defeats a great enemy, further uniting the noble elven houses.

-17 A.D: The lands of Arvoreen are fully pacified under Brandobarin control.

0 A.D.: St. Davian defeats the giant Gol’Kaa, the last human king of Beshaba, in single combat; he and his armies establish the greater Church of Yondalla across the surrounding lands, extending into Arvoreen.

13 A.D.: Unexpected disaster strikes the gnome home-world, destroying much of the culture’s history and technological progress.

92 A.D.: Brandobarin aggression against Cyrrollalee abandoned.

138 A.D: Brandobarin aggression against Urogolan abandoned.

211 A.D.: The nation of Brandobaris unofficially cedes control of Arvorean land to the rule of local warlords (and to the expanding Church of Yondalla).

327 A.D.: The Church of Yondalla controls the entirety of the Rio Provendor from Beshaba all the way south to the World Ocean; the port-city of Lagas is founded at the mouth of the massive river (on Arvorean lands).

354 A.D.: The last human king of Arvoreen abdicates his throne in the face of famine, riots, and threats of civil war; the Church of Yondalla declares Lagas the new capital city of Arvoreen and rapidly puts an end to the uprising, ensuring lasting peace and Hin dominance of the nation.

371 A.D.: Unexpected disaster strikes the gnome home-world, destroying much of the culture’s history and technological progress.

459 A.D.: War breaks out along the Rio Provendor between the Hin-controlled nation of Arvoreen and human-controlled Brandobaris.

522 A.D.: Brandobaris invaded by raiders from Urogolan.

606 A.D.: The last human king of Brandobaris is executed, ceding total control of the Green Fields to Hin dominance and the oversight by the Church of Yondalla; raiders from Urogolan expelled.

616 A.D.: The Unseelie War begins; House Larethian splits, with a third of the House choosing the side of Lolth; Corellon vanishes; elves create the first SpellJamming vessels.

651 A.D.: First Crusade of Tymora begins, as the Church pushes to claim the island chain; the famed “Cities of Sisterhood” – Shar and Selune – are renamed ‘Dallah’.

727 A.D.: Unexpected disaster strikes the gnome home-world, destroying much of the culture’s history and technological progress.

729 A.D.: Second Crusade of Tymora begins, pushing from the occupied city of Dallah.

783 A.D.: King Ulliam of Cyrrollalee is gifted the legendary blade Caladcholg, symbol of his family and of the rightful rule over the Isle.

859 A.D.: The Unseelie War ends; House Larethian retreats to Perianth; House Lolth and loyalist “drow” imprisoned upon the Spider-Moon; the elven people abandon use of SpellJamming technology.

807 A.D.: Third Crusade of Tymora begins, fighting island-by-island to Perryroyal.

921 A.D.: Port of Perryroyal fully pacified under the Church of Yondalla.

928 A.D.: Gnomes independently develop SpellJamming technology, rapidly expanding beyond the Circle of Gold to explore the other moons orbiting the Crown of Sapphire.

971 A.D.: All elves and drow born before this date have since passed on.

972 A.D.: Gnomes establish the first of several small colonies on Fenris.

988 A.D.: Trade between Xhiaae-Lan and Perryroyal established.

1001 A.D.: All contact with the gnomish colonies on Fenris is lost.

1008 A.D.: Urogalandic attacks on Hin soil spur the Church of Yondalla to war; the Siege of Mordheim begins.

1051 A.D.: Gnomes make first contact with the dwarves of Moradin’s Forge, allowing the two races to begin trade; first dwarven SpellJamming vessels are prototyped.

1069 A.D.: Unexpected disaster strikes the gnome home-world, destroying much of the culture’s history and technological progress.

1101 A.D.: First dwarven SpellJamming vessels are completed.

1118 A.D.: Perryroyal lost to attacks by cults of Dagon.

1123 A.D: Dwarves establish total control over all moons orbiting Moradin’s Forge and begin exploration of Fenris.

1221 A.D. All gnomes born before this date have since passed on.

1227 A.D.: Dallah and the island-chain of Tymora lost to attacks by cults of Dagon.

1271 A.D.: All dwarves born before this date have since passed on.

1283-1289 A.D.: City of Lagas assaulted by cults of Dagon.

1292 A.D.: Gnome explorers pass beyond the Celestial Pearl, establishing Zionil Station, and make first contact with the elves of Perianth.

1307 A.D.: Einar Jarlsenn, the last human king of Urogolan, is slain as the Siege of Mordheim finally breaks the “unconquerable” fortress.

1313 A.D.: Island-chain of Tymora retaken from cults of Dagon.

1321 A.D.: City of Dallah retaken from cults of Dagon.

1333-1370 A.D.: The Hole in the Infinite opens, releasing Hive entities onto the moons orbiting the Crown of Sapphire; elves establish a quarantine-zone at Zionil, barring all travel in-system from areas infected with the Hive contagion.

1342 A.D.: Second-generation warforged developed by gnome engineers.

1366 A.D.: Merchant-families and moneylenders in Lagas successfully lobby for greater greater involvement in the politics of Arvoreen and Brandobaris, displacing many hereditary noble families.

1391 A.D.: Perryroyal retaken from cults of Dagon.

1408 A.D.: Inaugural temple dedicated to the Church of Yondalla established on the soil of Xhiaae-Lan.

1416 A.D.: Hive menace to gnomish space successfully contained to five moons: Flandal (Hive Colony Nehemoth), Segojan (Hive Colony Euclid), Baervan (Hive Colony Keter), Baravar (Hive Colony Thaumiel), and Urdlen (Hive Colony Apollyon)

1419 A.D.: Unexpected disaster strikes the gnome home-world, destroying a dangerously large portion of the culture’s history and technological progress; off-world gnome colonies successfully mitigate the very worst of the disaster.

1459 A.D.: First Cyrrolaelan Crusade begins.

1463 A.D.: Hive Colony Nehemoth successfully eradicated from Flandal; third generation warforged developed.

1477 A.D.: Second Cyrrolaelan Crusade begins.

1491 A.D.: Third Cyrrolaelan Crusade begins.

1492 A.D.: The Circle of Gold – the gnomish home-world – is destroyed in a horrific cataclysm, forming the Chain of Tears. Gnomish history, technology, and culture suffer incalculable loss.

1493 A.D.: Shao Liang, the last human king of Xhiaae-Lan, surrenders his lands to the Church of Yondalla; peace treaty is signed at Perryroyal.

1502 A.D.: First contact is made between Elves and Hin; Hin become a SpellJamming culture.

1507 A.D.: Dún Ailinne, former capitol city of Cyrrollalee, is utterly destroyed; the human courts of Cyrrollalee abandon their cities for the countryside, forming a government-in-exile.

1521 A.D.: All Hin born before this date have since passed on.

1536 A.D.: All half-elves born before this date have since passed on.

1551 A.D.: Eldest playable elven/drow characters born.

1582 A.D.: The last human kingdom on Quelya falls when King Fergus mac Róich of Cyrrollalee is killed by an elven military force allied with the Church of Yondalla; the ancestral blade of King Ulliam’s line is subsequently lost, and Cyrrollalee becomes a protectorate of Arvoreen. The city of Moander is built on the ruins of Dún Ailinne.

1603 A.D.: New Arvoreen established on Verdura.

1607 A.D.: Youngest playable elven/drow characters born.

1608 A.D: Armed peasant rebellion put down in Cyrrollalee.

1611 A.D.: All humans born before this date have since passed on.

1614 A.D.: The city of Salt Lake established on Ashen.

1619 A.D.: Contact lost with the city of Salt Lake; remnants never recovered.

1622 A.D.: New city of Salt Lake established on Ashen.

1627 A.D: Eldest playable gnome characters born.

1628 A.D.: Armed peasant rebellion put down in Cyrrollalee.

1630 A.D.: City of Salt Lake suffers 80% casualties after sandstorm.

1632 A.D.: City of Salt Lake rebuilt and reinforced with new colonists and heightened security.

1634 A.D.: On Ashen, work begins on the city of Core.

1636 A.D.: New Arvoreen on Verdura significantly expanded.

1639 A.D.: Eldest playable dwarf characters born.

1640 A.D.: City of Salt Lake successfully repels inclement weather, suffers 30% casualties.

1646 A.D.: City of Core declared fully operational.

1648 A.D.: Reserves from Salt Lake assist the city of Core during a mining incident.

1652 A.D.: Peasant rebellion in Cyrrollalee successfully expels Hin occupying forces, destroying several Arvorean military bases and Yondallan holy sites; using stolen ships, rebellion attacks and burns several coastal villages on Arvorean soil before retreating.

1656 A.D.: City of Salt Lake suffers 50% casualties during small seismic event.

1658 A.D.: Populations of Core, Salt Lake, local mining operations, and surrounding farms are bolstered by arriving waves of indentured settlers: human sentenced to penal transportation.

1661 A.D.: The mining-station of Chaldira in founded on Fenris.

1667 A.D.: Nation of Markovia founded on Verdua; diplomatic trade established with New Arvoreen.

1669 A.D.: City of New Arvoreen significantly expanded.

1674 A.D.: Salt Lake survives minor meteorological event; rates of the forcible immigration of incarcerated humans to Ashen doubled.

1676 A.D.: Eldest playable Hin characters born.

1677 A.D.: Youngest playable gnome characters born.

1678 A.D.: Youngest playable dwarf characters born.

1680 A.D.: Arvorean armada successfully retakes Cyrrollalee, imposes the Purge of Moander.

1683 A.D.: Eldest playable half-elf characters born.

1684 A.D.: Punishment via ‘transportation to Chaldira’ instituted by Church of Yondalla; operations on Chaldira expand significantly.

1691 A.D.: Disruptions by local wildlife impose 10% casualties on Salt Lake.

1694 A.D.: Eldest playable human characters born.

1699 A.D.: Armed peasant rebellion put down in Cyrrollalee.

1699 A.D.: Youngest playable Hin characters born.

1700 A.D.: Youngest playable half-elf characters born.

1701 A.D.: Brandobarin facility of Acheron founded on Ashen.

1702 A.D.: New Arvoreen significantly expanded; land officially cleared for Covington Farms, soon to be the largest agricultural facility in the system; rates of forcible immigration of indentured humans to New Arvoreen tripled.

1703 A.D.: City of Salt Lake establishes new oil fields under supervision of Acheron.

1705 A.D.: Youngest playable human characters born.

1708 A.D.: The Illithid first arrive at the edge of Pyrespace, immediately striking at the inhabitants of Moradin’s Forge and the Forge-moons, establishing a base of operations on the planet’s inhospitable surface.

1711 A.D.: The last holds of Clan Stonehall finally fail before the combined might of illithid forces, bolstered by a united army of goblins, hobgoblins, orcs, and ogres. No independent dwarven communities remain on the Forge (nor on the Forge-moons), and the home-world of the dwarves is effectively lost.

1715 A.D.: The Illithid release the Drow from their moon-prison, beginning the age of dark elven piracy across Pyrespace.

1719 A.D.: City of Salt Lake suffers 20% casualties in a series of minor industrial accidents.

1721 A.D. (current year): Campaign begins.

[conservativetradlife]

Hi! I’m a feminist who would like to dedicate her life to intellectual/spiritual/humanitarian pursuits (think St. Hildegarde, haha) as opposed to a domestic calling, but enjoy your content nonetheless. I hate the amount of people (many of whom are men) who use the “trad” label and quote Ephesians ... all while posting internet porn, or say disgusting things like “women’s holes are for *insert disgusting porn-addled comment here*”

I had written out a long response to this a few days ago, but pressed a bookmark when I was pulling up a tab and lost everything I had written. I was frustrated and decided to take care of this ask at a later point, and today feels like an appropriate day to do so, due to what I am seeing on my Dashboard today. Some of my points will be controversial. I get that, but please be respectful in answering, arguing or messaging me about my points.

Firstly, I want to encourage your choice of lifestyle and life goals. If your general pursuits for life, if its something you are truly passionate about (not simply attempting to personify a Saint while forgetting your own interests and desires outside of your perceptions of St Hildegarde) then all the more power to you. I think its a noble pursuit and the world is better off with more focus being directed towards Spiritual and Humanitarian activities. I will keep you in my prayers :)

I like to believe that my content is less centered around the ideals of domesticity and more towards intentional living. I started this blog wanting to idealize the Homemakers of the 50′s, and I have slowly began to realize what Traditionalism means to me and what kind of content I wish to put out into the world. I am idealizing my own life and hoping that those who share a similar vision for their futures (even if its without children or marriage) find comfort in my content.

Now, when it comes to the sexualization of the Traditional lifestyle (or at least, what some people believe to be traditionalism) I want to say very briefly that I understand what ‘kink’ is to people, but I also know what BDSM is supposed to be and the general servitude of women to their ‘Dominant’ halves is the only thing that rings even slightly familiar with what BDSM actually is and stands for.

To me, the sexualization of the Trad Women (someone who wishes to take up the classic ‘cultural norm’ of being the homemaker and Mother. Someone who relies on their husband as the prime breadwinner and finds self worth in their role in the home as Mother, Wife and Homemaker) is a sad example of where we as a culture have degenerated to. To know that men are craving a woman who WANTS to be wife and mother, who WANTS to be a stay at home woman and feels fulfilled by these pursuits, rather than what modern media has exposed as desirable. Women who are in media, exposing themselves, using their sexuality as their confidence and their general demeanor being viewed as crass and unattractive, in comparison to the modestly dressed religious wife, who stays home and bakes cookies and is waiting at the door when they get home.

When in history have we, as a society been so over-sexed? 

When has pornographic content and sexually motivated news been so easily accessible? It is literally at our fingertips (via our cellphones, or simply looking at our various socials.) Its no wonder that someone would find sexual pleasure in the counterculture of someone who is the visual polar opposite of what they are blasted with daily. Someone who keeps their sexuality exclusive, who is honorably modest to themselves and to God, but most importantly, keeps what is meant to be sacred between a husband and wife (or between partners) private and sacred. It says a lot about our culture when that becomes the case.

Unfortunately, I find the vast majority of people who sexualize the lifestyle of a Traditional Women, are suffering from what my husband calls ‘Porn Brain.’

We feel as though we have to justify the fact we are attracted to modesty and Traditionalism, by throwing in scenarios that can be sexualized. One cannot simply enjoy what is, without having cherries on top (i.e attaching the sexual aspect to child rearing, preparing dinner, caring for ones husband.)

CARE to some people is defined in specific ways instead of a broad manner. I want to believe that some of the women in this sub-culture realize that to have a family, one needs to engage sexually with their husband if they wish to naturally conceive their children. Without medical intervention, or specific methods of delivery (to be crass, haha 😛) having sex with your partner (one who has testicles, sperm and a penis - to be 100% clear) to their partners ejaculation into their partners vagina (one who has a vagina,  menstrual and ovulation cycle, uterus, fallopian tubes and egg laden ovaries) is the method with which one can conceive children. I don’t think that needs to be explained in the grand scheme, however, I feel as though a lot of Traditional women forget that this (if they wish to be mothers to children they have carried in their wombs, and birthed into the world) is a natural, important part of the process to becoming a Mother. 

I can already hear the masses arguing that you don’t need to have sex to have children. That some people can’t have children (either by their own choice, or because of trauma or physical incapability) and they choose to adopt children, or go through IVF which doesn’t involve sex. Yes, thankyou. I don’t need to be reminded of this fact. What I am trying to express is that Sex is a natural part of a marriage (and there is nothing wrong with that, neither is not having sex for one reason or another. Every marriage is unique and the business of those who are married, not the scrutiny of those around them.) I want to believe that if someone is going to marry their partner, they are comfortable enough to have sex with them. If a pair want to have children the ‘natural’ way, then I assume they go into the marriage understanding that to do so, they need to have sex. 

HOWEVER!! SEX IS NOT THE RELATIONSHIP. Sex is not (and should not) be the focus of a marriage between two people.

 When people fetishize Traditionalism, I find that sex is the main factor that comes with it. They have some of the points that come with what encompasses Traditionalism to some people, but their focus isn’t on what makes a marriage work for both, rather simply looking at the sexual aspect, which is one point of what is part of marriage. It isn’t about the whole, but rather about the woman giving her body over to her husband for sex. It isn’t about the conceiving of children, but rather about mindless self indulgence. To preach religion while one does this, is bastardizing what the unions (both sex and marriage) are meant for.

Linking BDSM terminology with the fetishization, by boiling down the gender roles that come with Traditionalism (the woman is submissive to her husband in trusting that he can care for - financially, emotionally etc) into simply ‘Domination and Submission’ isn’t Traditional. There are equal parts expectation in the Traditional lifestyle, but also in the D/s relationship. The Dominant figurehead of a relationship (in both dynamics) is not simply the one who receives pleasure, while the submissive rolls over to their every whim. To simply view the submissive (usually female) in this role, is grossly oversimplifying a complex relationship between both roles. Just with how a Wife partakes in her role, the submissive does so as well. The Dominant doesn’t just DO what they want without thought of what the submissive wants, just as the husband doesn’t just DO what he wants without thinking of his wife, and that’s where I find problems with how Trads view BDSM, and how fetishists view Traditionalism. Equality is important for both roles, both partners have a say, BOTH partners can consent or decline things they don’t want, sexually or otherwise. If that equality doesn’t exist in either dynamic, then it isn’t a good marriage, nor a good D/s dynamic.

At the end of the day, sex is meant to be between two consenting partners. I believe that sex exists for a purpose and we as a society have been so exposed to it that looking back on relationships when it was sacred and still HAD purpose is incredibly alluring. In the hookup culture world we live in, sex is a commodity, and birth control exists so that the purpose of sex is forgotten. Men who fetishize Traditional Women aren’t looking at Traditionalism as a whole and what it means to be traditional. Its simply over sexed porn brain telling them that ‘once I have a wife, we’ll have sex all the time and she’ll take care of me. She’ll be sexy only for me and want sex with only me, while taking on the homemaker roles.’ 

These people aren’t looking for an equal partner. They are looking for a mother that they can have sex with. Someone that will take care of them, selflessly because they actively WANT to do so, with zero understanding that they themselves have things they want and need to make this an equal partnership.

I’m not going to get into the generalities of BDSM couples (nor how some traditionalists have a BDSM relationship ongoing beside their roles as husband and wife.) I will say that people who are in these relationships, aren’t in it simply for their own pleasure. There is nothing wrong with unconventional (kinky) sex between two consenting adults. What goes on in the bedroom of two people isn’t anyone’s business. Whether you like vanilla sex or whips and chains, its not anyone’s business but the people who are having sex. BDSM is not what’s wrong with these fetishists. Selfishness is what is wrong with these people, who think that having a traditional woman means their sexual needs will be met along with their household and human needs, while they themselves can do nothing.

Now, before I get jumped with another possible argument, about preference, let me quickly say that there is nothing wrong with having preferences in a partner. Some people like maternal women, women who love God, women who prefer to dress modestly, women who are Traditional. However, there is more to a woman that simply being Traditional. My husband loves me for more than just my goals of being a mother and homemaker. He also loves that I can sing, that I do funny dances when I eat good food. That I read books before bed or all varieties and have a dark sense of humor. He’s under no illusion that I am a perfect Trad all the time. Sometimes I want to watch True Crime documentaries instead of doing the dishes and he’ll bring home a frozen pizza for dinner. 

Some people might be wholly dedicated to being Traditional and that can be appealing to people, there isn’t nothing wrong with dedicating your life to something you are passionate about, be that, as you (for example) said, intellectual/spiritual/humanitarian pursuits or otherwise. To do so can be a preference they have, but if that is ALL one thinks encompasses a person or partner and they can’t have interests or things they do otherwise, you find a problem. I am more than just a Tradwife and Mother. So are others.

This has turned into a very long winded explanation to a simple question, and I apologize for going heavily into depth about this. Simply put (or TL;DR) fetishizing Traditionalism isn’t right. There is a purpose for sex and forgetting that is only showing what is wrong with our modern ‘porn brain’ addled society. Linking BDSM to fetishists isn’t right either, because there is a difference between a D/s dynamic and someone who is looking for a doormat. 

Preferring a partner who is Trad and nothing else diminishes a person into basic traits that dehumanizes them into an object that serves ones own selfish needs (”my partner will keep house, have sex with me and be happy because they want to. They’re supposed to be Trad. I’m the man of the house and they cater only to me.”) Woman are more than Trad and more than a sex object. People who forget that aren’t worth the time or energy to engage with and should be blocked on principle so not to circulate false truths about BDSM or Traditionalism. It gives a bad name to both of these kinds of lifestyles.

Thankyou for being patient with me in answering this, if you want to discuss this in depth, my messages are open and I’m more than happy to explain further if there are any questions or counter-arguments to any of the above. 

God Bless and I’ll Keep You in My Prayers 💕

[thawte-wills]

Memories of Faith (After the Siege of Sandpoint)

"...Sister Faith?"

The blackened debris surrounded her like jagged spires growing from the ground. The still fresh, acrid smell of burning scorched her heart; though all the embers had long petered out.

Faith Dy'S—Ravenswood stared out at the structure that had raised her, as much as she did it. Her first true creation at the side of her fellow sisters and brothers of the faith. And, the ones who led her to follow in Desna's footsteps, Father Tobyn, and now, Father Zantus. One died in a fire when it was a chapel, and the other died in a fire set by a red dragon on the newly constructed cathedral.

It seemed like a cruel gift of fate that not only did Zantus fall in the same fashion the previous high priest did; but Faith was 'blessed' with a vision of his death. Though the Sandpoint Cathedral lay in ruins; she still saw it all so clearly, as if the fire was closing in again.

Then again, she could also remember walking into the chapel it was before its first fire; but it looked so big to her at that age, even if it truly wasn't. Her eyes peered down to see the burnt remains of the murals that hung around the prayer garden, and a tinge of hope sparked for her that maybe, just maybe, there was a small image of any of the gods worshipped there that had survived. Her covered feet ambled through the charred, jagged wood with ease; a sign of her growing skill, yet the farthest thing from her mind was how powerful she had grown.

"...Sister.... Faith?"

The seven stones still stood strong in the middle of the ruins, unbeaten by fire for a second time; the only thing standing for a second time. It was almost enough to stop her heart from feeling dour. Almost. Choking back a sob, she laid against one of the stones, its ash rubbing off on her 'adventuring vestments' she'd made for herself. Whatever. She'd clean it later.

Blinking back tears that were winning the fight and burning against her eyes, she searched for the hope she was looking for: a star off of Desna's mural, a single background decoration of a gold piece of Abadar's, a piece of a ray of light from Sarenrae's brilliance, the beauty of even the smallest illustrated part of Shelyn, a hint of the waves or storms of Gozreh, or even the smallest part of an antler or arrow of Erastil; something to help her hold onto hope.

But nothing but the scorched stones and discolored pine and eucalyptus seemed to be recognizable through the multitude of ash. "Father Tobyn... Father Zantus... Desna... What should I do?" Her own words were the final nail in the coffin, as her soft sobs were finally rung out of her.

"....."

For a moment, the wind picked up, rushing the ashes past her and out of Sandpoint on a breeze; and with a soft hiccup she was able to clear her eyes for a moment. And on the singular stone surrounded by the seven others she saw her old carving of a star, back when she was first learning of Desna.

The small, roughly carved star was a foolish whim she'd taken upon herself when she first learned of the Desnan clergy's penchant for leaving 'Found Marks' in difficult to reach places. Once it had caught the attention of Father Tobyn what she was doing, she feared she'd be admonished when she simply wanted to leave her own mark somewhere. Thankfully, Father Zantus (Brother, at the time) had intercepted the older priest, and had somehow convinced him that this was the true meaning of the middle stone. A place for those who worshipped to leave their own mark, no matter who they worshipped; the start of the Shrine Wall writings in the Sandpoint Cathedral.

This star had somehow caught ash in its rough ruts, and almost out of instinct, Faith looked out in the direction it pointed. Past the damaged town and homes, even from the other side of the town, she could still see it.

A large flaming meteor surrounded by massive white fangs glowing with the power of some unknown creature's magic, plastered to the side of The Old Light. But she knew the symbol wasn't what it was pointing toward; it was pointing toward Zephyr. Her draconic protector. Her magical colleague. Her close friend. And maybe... maybe more. Even though dull and misshapen, like the Stair of Stars it seemed to point directly to her own North Star. "Thank you. I hope.... I hope I can make you all proud."

Faith stood, feeling a bit stronger emotionally and more set in her faith while wiping away some tears. As she brushed off the ash on her clothing, she finally heard the voices calling for her.

"Sister Faith! Are you alright in there?"

Taken aback by the voices, she'd almost forgotten she was one acolyte of a remaining five; her being the youngest, and yet the most devoted. As hastily as she could, she cautiously made her way through the remnants of the cathedral back to the front, her eyes set on returning to her draconic mage in his time of need and unbridled fury. Once her feet found purchase on the unburnt grass slightly outside of the remains she saw the four in front of her, all of them focused strongly on her. At first, their patient but quizzical stares only drew questions from her; but quickly she realized they were looking to her the same way she had with Father Tobyn, and Father Zantus. Like a leader, or a-"High-Priestess, what should we do?"

The sudden title surprised Faith, and she was sure the look was obvious on her face, even after doing her best to try to hide it afterward.

"Please Torthiel, right now, its too soon to say that much." The old fear of never being able to travel and explore like a real child of Desna loomed over her emotions once more, but she wasn't the same girl she had been when she first volunteered herself to the adventurers that would help her to become one of the Stormbringers.

"We will rebuild again. We were all here to set the structure of the Cathedral, and we will be here for it again; like it has always been here for us. Look, the seven stones still stand strong, both a testament to Desna's power, as well as Abadar, Sarenrae, Shelyn, Gozreh, and Erastil. Father Tobyn and Zantus have guided us the best they could. Now it is time for us to walk the path.

"Torthiel, Lasslin, Sargiel, Naerbera. For now, we will help the town; and in time, the town will help us. We were all there when the blueprints of the Cathedral were drawn up, and we will remake it in its previous glory. Help those you can. Heal those in need. And when you are done, rest. There has been much pain here, but Desna will bless us all with peaceful dreams for our hard work." With that, she lightly hugged each of her fellow siblings of the cloth, simply glad they were able to see another day.

"But Faith..." Lasslin whimpered softly, "Are you to leave again? And if so, who will lead us?"

"Desna has her plans for me, sister. Save for these last few months, I have only spent my time on Golarion within these walls. I don't plan to leave immediately; but for right now, I cannot be the High Priestess just yet. I promise you all, I will return after Desna has shown me what she needs to. But until that day, I will never be too far away. You all have your own paths with your gods you must follow. And just like this church and its gods, you will lead together, as my Deacons of the Faith." A smirk played on Faith's lips as she continued,

"But you better believe I'm not leaving the foundation of the construction to you fools." The five acolytes held together then in a group hug, all smiles and tears at their melancholy situation, yet hopeful for the future.

After they had all released their hold, they dispersed around town to help the citizens still reeling from the attack.

And Faith? She had her dragon to console.

[lightdancer1]

'Eyes had the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming' Darkfic crossover Part II of V

Azula woke up for the first but not the last time in a moment of sheer animalistic fear. There was a heat in her room not unlike when her father waved his burning hands near her face. She began to scramble for fear of making Fire Lord Ozai disappointed and instead there was something in her room. Clad in golden robes, skin of night-darkness with eyes like burning embers.

Princess Azula, your mother said that you need....corrections for your behavior. I am the emissary from the Spirit World sent to bring this into motion.

Her eyes were wide, the creature's voice quite blatantly something she distrusted.

"Mother hates me but she would never do this."

My dear child, I am sent to show you how not to be a monster, and what it is to be loved. Whether or not you agree with this is not my concern. I was not asked for agreement.

Azula shook her head again. "You're lying. I know lies. Father and Uncle have taught them to me well. And I am not your dear child. Or anyone else's."

The entity leaned down toward her and her breath caught in her lungs as the heat became overpowering and a hand moved where heat flowed along it like a river, the fingers parting.

You still fail to understand, Princess Azula. This is not your choice. This I do for the sake of new wealth and new gains.

Azula sat in her room as the model child that Ursa desired her to be, a warm smile on her face.

From that point forward Yeneli of Muspelheim became a frequent guest of Ozai and Ursa, wielded in the visions of each and finding no small amount of amusement in how readily manipulated the Midgardians were. If Midgardians they in truth were. Some of their blood smelled of the supernatural, their gaits betraying this truth. Ursa and her children had this more than most, and if Ursa heard the Jotunn's sweet words and promises and failed to notice small strands of fire that circled around her head and those of her children, all to the better.

Soon the Fire Nation went to war with new weapons, of deadly power and destructive force, and the hopes of their enemies began to ebb ever lower. Rumors spoke of a monster in the Fire Nation Palace, a thing in golden armor that was some accursed spirit that was of no natural entity known to men or to the spirit world.

------

Ozai looked at the monster in front of him, which slouched in a chair drinking some foul-smelling liquid from its own realm.

"If my brother takes Ba Sing Se he will place a man of weakness upon the throne of the Fire Nation."

The creature looked at him with those strange ember-eyes and he felt very small in the ageless malice in that glare.

A bold request for the unloved second son. You ask me to give you a throne? You care so little for your brother as this?

"I do not ask for too much. End my brother's threat to my own destiny, allow me to rise to the throne of the Fire Nation."

Your destiny? Your destiny was to be whelped to a granddaughter of the world-spirit here, to produce offspring to wield as weapons. You have done so twice when you were expected to produce from eight to ten. I could easily help you fulfill that destiny.

Ozai snarled.

"I am not my father's stallion to be bred to someone as if she were a mare!"

That is exactly what you are, Prince Ozai. And it is what Wyrd decrees for you. I do not lightly go against the weave of the Norns, and I would not do so for a sniveling overgrown child who demands it all like a boy deprived of a sweet.

Ozai snarled further.

"Listen, creature, we have summoned you and you obey us!"

No, Midgardian. I obey nothing of your whims. You asked me into this world and I have answered a few trivial wishes as if I were some Djinn of the Saracens, but I am nothing of the sort. Were the Avatar awakened he would be striving against me now, for he would know something of what your prayers so casually let into this world. I had anticipated this from the woman, but from you? I intend to enjoy this.

For the first time in years her robes became the plate armor she preferred, dark golden, and her sword materialized in its scabbard at her side. She drew it, and Ozai paused at the wicked runes on its side and then further when fire began to flow along the runes like water and the blade burned with a vicious heat.

The being strode toward him as a giant and the blade grew accordingly and the last sight that Ozai saw was the blade moving toward him and the searing heat of its edge.

Fire Lord Azulon heard the crackling of flames and terrified screams and then paused when the Yu Yan archers around the throne room became burning blazing torches as a golden giant smashed in the door to his throneroom with a brutish strike of a clenched fist.

Woe to the inhabitants of the Earth and of the Sea, for the World-Destroyers are gone down to you in great amusement and we are thirsting for our brand of sport.

Ursa blinked in the wake of the devastation, and the monster turned toward her with a molten grin.

With her children's hands in her wrists, Ursa looked at the burning gutted ruin that the Fire Nation Royal Palace was becoming and the colossus that was rising from it, and she did the first sensible thing she'd done since that day.

She ran.

-------

In the absence of the Fire Nation's elites with the disappearance of Crown Prince Iroh for a further span of years, the War ground to a halt as the Fire Nation fell into civil war and anarchy. Some heralded the deliverance as a miracle, but the wiser trembled. The spites of a hidden society brought news to the Grand Lotus from his return to the Spirit World that his father, brother, and almost all of the Fire Nation's elite had been slain, that his sister-in-law and her children were not seen among the dead but in the wake of the carnage none knew what precisely that meant.

Fire Lord Iroh, the Fire Lord of Ashes, as his reign was known at the start for inheriting the gutted ruin of a palace and the steps of molten footprints, began his reign in a state of fear and anger and wrath. The war had ended, for a time.

In the third year of Fire Lord Iroh it started up again as new armies began to march out from the Fire Nation's colonies.

In the Austral lands near a village in the northernmost frontier of the gutted ruin that had been the Southern Water Tribe, a column of light shot into the air, and an ancient spirit awakened with a stumble before two startled Water Tribe children.

In an island of the northern Fire Nation, a mother and her two children sat, Ursa working quietly with healers to undo the works that she had done, realizing too late the nature of the folly unleashed. It had been from a dream where she had seen a being of eyes of infinite flowing darkness and hair to match, skin the color of bone.

She had spoken to her with sorrow and flinching of the truth behind what the monster that had lied to her really represented. Muspelheim was not 'the Land of Fire', it was 'the land of World-Destruction' and the creature that had entered their world was all too keen to lay ruin and devastation in its wake, for its own brand of cruel amusement.

From her own inner bitterness and anger and resentment she had let her own child and the fear that the child would grow up to become what she had, a mistress of poisons literal and metaphorical cloud her to the truth. She had feared a monster conjured from a high-spirited child with powers over fire and let in an all too real one that had almost destroyed the Fire Nation.

Her daughter was the perfect child she had always wished, an act that had brought its own destruction of a world. The Ursa of two years ago would have shaken her head with scorn at the thought of a perfect Azula being anything but this, but the one here in turn would have raged.

--------

Beneath the waters of Lake Laogai a bureaucrat stared in mute horror at a golden giant brushing a gauntlet along glowing crystals. Ember-eyes turned toward him and molten teeth shone in a red crescent along the creature's mouth, the flames flowing and ebbing along the magma-skin like water.

Long Feng, Eye and Ear of the Earth King. I come to bargain.

[ibijau]

The Price of Wishes / On AO3

Sitting by the bed once more, Nie Mingjue stares at his brother as if he’s lost his mind. Which he might have. Nie Huaisang, lying in bed, doesn’t know what to think about anything at the moment, but this… this is the one certainty he has.

“A road, really?” Nie Mingjue insists.

“And a small altar somewhere in the Unclean Realm,” Nie Huaisang repeats. “It’s very important. And… and we need to find that god’s name to send them proper prayers.”

He glances at ‘Lan Xichen’ who stands just a little behind Nie Mingjue, smiling peacefully as if none of this concerns him. He probably doesn’t know that he’s not a real person, so he must just think that this is only Nie Huaisang being weird.

“Huaisang, that’s a little excessive,” Nie Mingjue scolds. “I’ll go make an offering to that temple if you want me to, but…”

“I’ll pay for all of it,” Nie Huaisang announces, half panicked at the idea of angering a deity so strong that they created a whole person out of thin air. “I’ll sell my fans, and those silk robes I never wear anyway, and… and we can take it off from my allowance for as many years as needed. I’ll paint a portrait myself for the altar. But it is so important. I can’t explain why, just trust me.”

He winces and regrets the words as soon as they leave him. Trust him? Right after he did something so stupid that could have gotten him killed? Nie Mingjue already didn’t trust him before, but after that…

“Fine, you’re getting an altar if it matters so much,” Nie Mingjue sighs. “I’ll see for the road. Those things cost a lot, Huaisang, and it can’t be a priority. You understand that, right?”

Nie Huaisang meekly nods. He understands for sure. Nobody really says it, but their sect is kind of preparing for the risk of a war with Qishan Wen. They have to spend money on things more important than Nie Huaisang’s whims.

“I’m sure that deity will understand that you are doing your best to thank them for their help,” Lan Xichen intervenes, his voice deep and calm, exactly the sort Nie Huaisang likes. It isn’t even a detail that made it on his list, that god is just that great, apparently. “It is to your honour that you are trying to keep your promise.”

Nie Huaisang smiles weakly, and hopes that having Lan Xichen’s approval is a sign that the deity themself is also satisfied with his efforts, at least for the time being. He can’t do more than that anyway, not right then, because the healer joins them with a foul smelling potion that quickly knocks Nie Huaisang out for the rest of the day and the night that follow. 

His sleep is not a quiet one, plagued by nightmares of his father, of Wen Ruhoan, of an angry statue without a face that demands the price of a lover Nie Huaisang never even really asked for.

When morning comes, Nie Huaisang is up much earlier than usual, almost with the sun in fact. In spite of his dreams, he feels perfectly rested and full of energy in a way he never is at sunrise. It's fine though, there's a busy day ahead. Nie Huaisang is determined to find out more about his god, and to start working on paying his debt. For this he'll need to spend some time in the library, and maybe send some letters to neighbouring sects and monasteries if he can't find information on his own. 

First, though, he needs breakfast. He's a growing boy after all, and he hasn't had anything since that broth yesterday. 

After dressing up hastily, Nie Huaisang starts making his way toward the kitchens. As he crosses the courtyard toward those, he spots an unfamiliar silhouette walking around. A young man in white who smiles at him and comes closer. 

It'll take a while to get used to Lan Xichen. 

"Nie gongzi, good morning. Are you feeling better today?" 

His voice is really so, so nice, it's awful. 

"I'm quite well, thank you. I was on my way to grab something to eat, do you want to come with me?" 

It's a stupid thing to ask. Nie Huaisang doesn't want company, least of all that of this boy who shouldn't exist, but a year in Gusu has left him plagued with crippling politeness and a fear of offending anyone wearing white. Even from this far, he can't shake off the fear that Lan Qiren will hear about any misdemeanour and punish him for it. 

"I would be glad to do so," Lan Xichen replies. "People here really sleep in late, don't they?" 

"By Gusu Lan standards, for sure," Nie Huaisang says as he starts walking again, the other boy following him. "But everyone will be up soon. Are you going to spend the day with Da-ge?" 

From what Nie Huaisang understood yesterday, Lan Xichen is supposed to be friends with Nie Mingjue. It was on the list, after all. As for how close he is supposed to be to Nie Huaisang… it doesn't seem like there's anything official happening between them, or Nie Mingjue would surely have said something when his brother 'forgot' that Lan Xichen exists. Still, maybe the god has decided to give them a secret romance, so Nie Huaisang needs to be very careful until he figures out where they stand.

"Your brother said he would be busy," Lan Xichen says. "My presence was unplanned after all. Maybe Nie er-gongzi will agree to let me keep him company instead?" he adds with a warm smile that Nie Huaisang can't bear to look at. "After your fever, and the way you fainted, it might be better if you were not left alone." 

Whose fault was it if Nie Huaisang fainted? And he so doesn't want to spend more time together, but it's hard to refuse anything to someone who smiles at him like that and makes it sound like he might be disappointed if his request were denied. 

"It probably won't be much fun," Nie Huaisang warns. "I'm just going to check our library for… Ah, but maybe you'll be able to help. I really want to find whose temple it was, in the mountains." 

"Nie gongzi is very determined it seems," Lan Xichen notes. 

Determined is just a nice way to say stubborn, which Nie Huaisang has been accused of in the past, though he still thinks he's not nearly as bad as his brother. But Lan Xichen says it like it's a good thing, and that's... nice. 

"Debts must be paid," Nie Huaisang grumbles as they enter the kitchens. It's early for sect disciples, but the servants are already hard at work, so they'll have to be nice and stay out of the way. "Lan gongzi, do you want to eat something as well?" 

Lan Xichen eagerly nods, glancing all around as if he's never seen food before. It's… cute, for lack of a better word, but it also worries Nie Huaisang. He's pretty sure that if the truth gets discovered he'll be in a ton of trouble, so lan Xichen really needs to learn to act as if he wasn't born yesterday. Only, how to tell him that? If Lan Xichen himself isn't aware of it, he'll think Nie Huaisang is crazy, or maybe he'll get upset over the fact that he isn't a real person.

It’s a problem for later. Nie Huaisang manages to steal two bowls of congee and a pair of buns (earning a slap on the shoulder from the laughing cook who threatens to tell his brother, as always) and quickly goes back outside so Lan Xichen and him can find a quiet spot to eat. 

Lan Xichen seems particularly delighted with the food, as if it’s the best thing he’s ever had. It certainly is a lot better than what they have in the Cloud Recesses, as Nie Huaisang can’t help bragging about. Food is just nicer when it actually tastes of something besides bitter and watery. Nie Huaisang could have dealt with the absence of meat, but the lack of taste is something he just can’t handle at all.

“Nie gongzi is very outspoken on this matter,” Lan Xichen notes with a small smile.

The tone is nothing more than teasing, but Nie Huaisang quickly shuts down. He’s been told before that he complains too much, and it’s against the rules of Gusu Lan. Everything is against the rules of Gusu Lan. In fact, Nie Huaisang is starting to feel bad for even talking during this improvised meal, and can't help glancing over his shoulder, fearing to be scolded by someone. He finishes eating quickly and silently, imitated in this by Lan Xichen.

After their bowls have been dropped back to the kitchen, they two boys head to the library. It's not the most impressive room in the Unclean Realm, but it's still a fairly decent library, Nie Huaisang thinks. There's all the normal classical texts of course, a whole bunch of cultivation nonsense he won't get close to if he can help it, but also some essays and notes on the history of Qinghe and its region. At some point in the past, one sect leader decided that he felt ashamed for being descended from a butcher and ordered his more scholarly disciple to research the issue and find out if maybe his ancestor wasn't secretly someone a little more glorious, linked to local nobility. He was apparently very disappointed to find it wasn't so, but at least now Qinghe Nie has some surprisingly serious historical texts in its collection.

Nie Huaisang has read most of them in fits of boredom. He knows some of them mention powerful local family building temples and making offering to gods in times of crisis or celebration, so hopefully he'll find something about his god as well. Without losing a moment, he starts perusing the shelves.

"So what are we looking for?" Lan Xichen asks, glancing around at the books.

"Histories of Qinghe, or something on local beliefs, or… Anything, really. It was a big temple, and the statue was huge. It's got to be an important god. They felt… powerful. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if it were one of the really big ones. I bet the temple has just been abandoned because it's hard to get there." 

Lan Xichen smiles at that statement, though there's something a little sad in his expression. 

"Gods rise and fall," he points out. "Perhaps the one you encountered is among the latter, and you won't find anyone who remembers them." 

Nie Huaisang shrugs, and grabs the first book he can spot that looks even mildly relevant, quickly browsing through it. 

"I think you're wrong," he says. "I think they must be very powerful. They have to be. They listened to my stupid prayer and answered it so well and so quick! Isn't that the mark of a powerful deity? And even if they're not, I've got to try. I've got to make them good offerings, so I must find who they are and what they like."

"Congee and buns apparently," Lan Xichen murmurs, but Nie Huaisang is too taken by his book to hear him. 

Morning passes quickly, and brings them nothing. In all honesty Nie Huaisang isn't entirely surprised, but still had to try, and it's better than training in the sun with everyone else. He even appreciates that Lan Xichen is trying to help, though he does catch him looking at the books with puzzlement a few times. Of course if Lan Xichen was created with memories of Gusu Lan's great library, this one must seem very pitiful to him. 

Around lunch time, Nie Mingjue joins them in the library and starts scolding Nie Huaisang for yet again leaving his bed without permission. 

"But Xichen-ge was there with me," Nie Huaisang shamelessly points out, batting his eyes innocently. "And you trust him, right?" 

"Of course I do," Nie Mingjue retorts without hesitation. "The servants told me you were with him, or else I'd have dragged you back to bed already." 

Nie Huaisang laughs, and makes a note that he can probably use Lan Xichen when dealing with his brother. It's not what he intended when he asked for a husband who would get along with Nie Mingjue, but if Nie Mingjue gets soft with someone, it might as well profit his brother.

As they exit the library and walk away to have lunch, Lan Xichen hesitantly turns to Nie Mingjue, looking almost shy now.

“Mingjue-xiong, about that matter I mentioned yesterday…”

Nie Mingjue nods. “The woman was found where you said, and given the money. One of the disciples is from that village and he’s asked his parents to keep an eye out for her so we can help again if needed. She’s almost destitute and doesn’t have any family left. Apparently she’s got a reputation for being a little mad and impossibly lucky. I guess her crossing your path confirms it.”

Lan Xichen smiles. He rarely ever does anything else of course, but Nie Huaisang gets the feeling that it’s a lot more genuine this time, as if it really matters to him that this old woman gets treated well. It’s… sort of sweet, if Nie Huaisang is honest. But of course, kindness was on his list, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Who’s that woman?” Nie Huaisang can’t help asking, surprised that this newly created man already knows other people in the area.

At this question, a spot of red appears on Lan Xichen’s cheeks, as if he’s been caught doing something bad. Nie Huaisang’s heart speeds up a little, which is ridiculous and annoying. Maybe he shouldn’t have demanded for his future husband to be so handsome, since he clearly can’t handle that.

“While running that errand for my uncle, I became a little lost,” Lan Xichen confesses. “This old woman helped me get back on the right path, and she even insisted on giving me something to eat, though it was clear she doesn’t have much. I was in too much of a hurry to repay her then, but I thought your brother might be able to do something for her. I’m glad I was right.”

There’s something wrong about that story, because Lan Xichen definitely can’t have been running errands and getting lost due to not even existing a few days ago. But the joy and relief on his face over knowing that this woman will be taken care of seem real, so Nie Huaisang decides not to question it for the time being. If that god in the mountain decided to give their creation some fake memories to make everything feel more real, it’s for the best. 

It’ll make it less likely for others to realise something isn’t quite right.

[gstqaobc]

💜💜💜💜PG THOUGHTS AGAIN 💜💜💜💜💜

So we have it, an obvious video of them being together, spouting similar political ideas. The video that I have been asking her for for months and months of video of her and Harry  together well here we have it.They are together, in love, have a baby Archie and a dog Pula running in the background of the lovelyvideo.SSSCCCRRRREEEECCHHHHHHHH SLAM ON YOUR BRAKES !!! First of all, 😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣Pula, she is pathetic! The Cambridge family dog is called Lupo!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 Stupid bint cannot even think of an original name for a bloody dog!😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣. Interesting how they were on a green background. If you know anything about television weather or even CGI in films what is the background what colour is it? I’ll wait I’ll wait you go on think about it Google it do whatever you needed to do, hourglass ⏳ Lala La La La La La La La La La La La La La OK stop it I’ll tell you the colour is GREEN!! So what we had yesterday was a perfect CGI background they even had the dog running across! Behind them! And we had this on my list of available park bench that could be total CGI or a real been one of them sat on I don’t know. She’s floating on it, I’m sorry I’m laughing she’s floating on the bench she’s not really sitting on it at least that’s how it appears to me. We spent 2+ years watching her hang onto him at physically and control every movement he made whether it was with her hand grasp or her hand on his back or whatever here we have another video where they are side-by-side but not touching one another at all! That is to me that is counterintuitive to everything we had seen about how she physically relates to him! Let me say that again that is counter to how we have ever seen 1 million times her conducting herself when she is with him! Even when they are performing official duties She is hanging onto him for dear life whether it’s for 10 inch heels in five sizes too big because she is merching or just her need to physically control him in any environment at any time! That’s the key! That is the key kids! Control! Control and revenge! Her goal is to revenge and cause damage the back result is much more evil and insidious! There is no way on this earth,for this skank of a woman, will I ever to my dying day believe Harry would turn his back on his grandmother and do it as last night a slap in the face by Moaning about how he couldn’t vote in the UK and she basically telling people in America who to vote for! I simply refuse to believe it because it again it’s counterintuitive how we have seen Harry from birth to age 33 until he became involved with this nasty piece of work! Yesterday I saw an interesting piece on the news that was on Tucker Carlson on Fox news and they had a big thing about George Soros and his funding in this election and I’m not going to quote the numbers because I can’t remember but it’s tens of millions of dollars that he has put into the Democrats Joe Biden! I am  going to the Holy Scriptures again because this is where I take all guidance in my life.

KJV Ephesians 6: 12 - 18

12 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.

13 Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.

14 Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness;

15 And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace;

16 Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.

17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God:

18 Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints;

They are we have it kids!! This is a battle that goes down to good versus evil! The evil is well funded by the father of lies and those who follow him and the backers are those! We are looking at people who want to demolish the monarchy they don’t want Brexit they want the EU and then they eventually want North America and all the other countries to become a one world government. If you read The book of Revelations in the Bible you will see that as well. This is why her Majesty cannot act on a whim. This is why they have been playing the long game! This game is as old as the earth itself! We are not wrestling against flesh and blood but of the flesh and blood that are representatives of the evil! It must be knowledged it is not simple matter of a dopey prince falling in love with some sea hag yachting whore!

Harry spent his whole adult life in the military! He loved serving in Afghanistan he just loved being one of the guys! And you can tell by the Invictus games that he started the passion he has for that for people who served, survived with PTSD and physical injuries! He and William are so close and Catherine they were like the three musketeers! Nothing can come between that except evil. London scoop said someone would fall on their sword and I think it’s Harry quite literally. I will never stop believing in the essence and the truth of who Harry has been and remains to be to this day!

I fully believe that video was CGI with 100%  of my being! Had it been real, do you think they would’ve had Archie there sitting on the bench with them? I mean for goodness sake‘s they had pula running around in the background I’m still laughing at that Pula and Lupo all so Flippin pathetic it’s like a grade 5 Girlfight, copying dog names!Only the consequences are much more much more damaging. I’ve been yammering for months now, Madam show us a video live with you and Harry,  for months! I’ve been saying that! Well here we got it, no Archie but a CGI Harry. So my next request will be all three of you, live tv, being interviewed by Piers Morgan live interview! I just refuse to believe I just refuse to believe here it would be so blatantly blatantly disrespectful to the Her Majesty the Queen! His beloved grandmother! They were so close and they are so close! This is been done for a reason as we all know there’s so much more going on in the background behind this world chaos with the coronavirus with the Black Lives Matter riots with the United States election there’s a whole lot going on behind the scenes that none of us really know and we probably will never know. But I believe Harry to be on the battlefield still I’m not saying that was him in the video, it was CGI. I fear that he may have to literally fall on his sword for his Queen and that we may lose Harry! That is my one of that has been one of my greatest fears and something I have prayed quite a lot about. Harry never spent any time in America except in Vegas when he was partying. Where did he spend most of the time? In  Africa helping being with the locals serving! I’ll stop going on and on and on now! But I will never ever ever stop believing this is an existential fight of God versus Satan! And we all know who is on which side! And if you believe in prayer please pray for our Harry, please pray for Our Queen and all that is good in the world.

Harry, if by chance you read this or hear about it, please know nothing will make me stop believing in you, nothing will stop me believing that you have been serving in a covert overt  role, nothing will convince me that you have turned your back on your family and everything that you hold dear your Queen your country your military peers. Full stop. End of! I will continue to pray for you and please know that there are many who believe in you. We are coming to the I don’t know what word to use the final battle the other combination the climax of this if he will pardon the pun and now is not the time to abandon ship kids now is not the time to abandon ship, we must steady on and stay the course!

💜💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻PG🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺 🇳🇿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿