#really love the lost legion eternal

[feroluce]

So I saw this post yesterday about whether Belobog had had phones before the Astral Express landed, or if the Trailblazers were the ones who brought them and distributed them to Jarilo-VI for the current characters. There were some mixed views and guesses in the comments.

And the answer is actually....both!

If you look at the text messages from a lot of the Belobog characters, most of them will actually allude to not knowing how to use a phone, which isn't something you get on the Xianzhou Luofu, even though they have the jade abaci. Oleg even specifically says that March 7th gave him his.

And there's also this line from Gepard and Serval's companion quest:

He's so cute I love him

Meanwhile Sampo has been running scams with selling supposed ancient relic mobile phones to the rich nobles up topside- tbh I think he could sell ice cubes in Belobog if he really put his mind to it, so he could probably make this work no matter what, knowing him. But a scam like this would not work NEARLY as well unless the general populace didn't know anything about cell phones or how they work.

(It's extra funny when you remember that he's not even a Belobog native, man has probably been hiding a phone from everyone for however long he's been there, and he absolutely knows how they work slzjkskwms)

I'm going to shove him through a meat grinder (affectionate)

While it's possible it would be way harder to get signal out there, we know from the When Business Comes Knocking adventure mission (the fact that THE TRAILBLAZER is the one who tipped off the IPC about Jarilo-VI's revival, and over something so stupid, thus leading to the invasion during the Solwarm Festival in 1.4 fucking KILLS me fjkdlsajfkdlaj) that phones CAN get some kind of signal even as far out as Everwinter Hill. So it makes this line from Serval's online introduction seem like even stronger proof that Belobog had no phones, because there's no way Gepard and Serval wouldn't text each other to at least occasionally check in while he was out in such a dangerous place.

The final nail in the coffin is actually from an IPC worker out near the Pillars of Creation, who says the Astral Express brought phones to Jarilo-VI (they say it's just a rumor, but no yeah I'm sure it's real given everything before this haha) and then admit they've been using the technological gap and lack of knowledge to make money on the side.

So. Belobog didn't have phones when the Express landed. But. But!

They did 700 years ago.

In one of the daily missions, you can encounter this echo in Backwater Pass, who shows you pictures on his phone. He mentions Alisa Rand, the very first Supreme Guardian, and the war against the Antimatter Legion, but he doesn't know what the Fragmentum is. So we know this had to happen only shortly after the Eternal Freeze came about.

And I've seen people complain how ridiculous it is that the surrounding areas of Belobog have so little flora or fauna, and how real snow tundras don't work like that. And it has been a very long time since then, but. I'm not quite sure how much water that holds, because that's not what happened here.

The Eternal Freeze didn't slowly move in. This wasn't some natural process. It just happened.

This was an environmental disaster on a planetwide scale. There was no time to prepare and most of the wildlife couldn't even live long enough to adapt or evolve. All of Jarilo-VI was on the verge of extinction; the Antimatter Legion had them at the precipice, and Alisa Rand had to make a choice. It was a desperate decision under dire straits and it didn't come without cost.

And you can see just how devastating the effects were from that previous conversation- the man regards his own phone as a pre-war relic. His wife died of illness due to the cold. His son was forced to take up a career he didn't want. Everything was put on hold. Everyone who managed to survive had to fully devote themselves to the cause.

Belobog lost entire eras of knowledge, because they were all scrambling for survival. Whatever kind of mobile phones they had before the war and the Eternal Freeze, they were lost in the ensuing chaos, until the Astral Express landed and brought new technology for the first time in 700 long years.

So- the answer is both!

[moonlight-prose]

wip wednesday!

thank you for the tags my darlings @guiltyasdave @ovaryacted @sceletaflores. it's no longer wednesday but i didn't do any writing yesterday so today is better. this is a short piece of my upcoming marcus acacius series i'm hammering away at.

Echoes of Eternity

“Through studying the artistic nature of the statue and it’s material we’ll be able to discern who the man might have been and who could have been tasked with creating it.”

The final click of your key brought the presentation to an end—silence enveloping the lecture hall as you set the notes back beside your laptop. Pages of research all dedicated to this one particular piece. To the statue that would change your future. People clapped softly at your thought out argument, others gathered their things to rush out before the crowd leaving campus grew to its familiar standstill.

“Brilliant!”

You grinned, turning to catch the dean Cassandra on your way out the side entrance, your notes clutched in a haphazard notebook pressed to your chest. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

“Better you than the man my colleague chose. I find your piece much more fascinating than the history of the Roman Catholic Church. Again.”

Summer’s heat filled the air with a thickness you felt drag down the back of your neck. The dewy sweat from earlier sticking to your skin the longer you stood out in the sun as it beat down on stone. You could see students rushing to make their classes, professors roaming the grounds animatedly talking about one thing or another. But the statue located in the very back, hidden away from the rest of the world caught your attention the most.

Cassandra followed your line of sight, a grin curving along pink painted lips. “Do you really think you’ll be able to uncover who he was?”

The once darkened hue of the stone slowly began to fade the longer it stood against the test of time. He looked out onto the world with eyes of steel. Laurels placed around a head of what you assumed were curls—brown if you had to guess considering the history. Though the clothes were of a soldier’s garments—armor carved into the breastplate—the paludamentum is what stood out the most.

Whoever this man was one thing remained certain in your years of study. He was crowned as a general of Rome. A man of superior strength and honor that stood amidst legions of warriors. Even his stance reminded you of the stories you’d heard growing up. Of gods and goddess alike—each with their own power over the people who once lived here.

For almost a year you had studied his face, sketching the outline of this statue in notebooks and along the margins of texts. You took every piece of knowledge acquired and attempted to unmask the man who was forced to live throughout eternity without a name.

The forgotten soldier lost to the depths of time itself.

“I hope so,” you mumbled, staring up the shield propped at his side, a sword attached to his hip. “There’s a possibility we’ve been looking at the wrong era.”

“The wrong era?”

“Most believe he came from the time of Commodus. But what if he’s from a time later than that?”

She shrugged. “It’s possible. Although I wouldn’t put it past the cruelty of Commodus to commission a statue and rip away the history of it.”

With a sigh, you turned back to the long stretch of land before you lined in ancient stones, the building for your apartment fifteen minutes away. “Commodus was cruel, but what would be the point of dishonoring another soldier after what happened with the gladiator?”

“Oh yes of course.” She rushed to keep the pace of your quick steps. “The general turned gladiator. The tragedy of Maximus. Didn’t his son turn out to be that emperor?”

You fished the keys out of the bottom of your bag. “The grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

“Yeah that one.”

“What about him?”

“Well…try his portion of history.” You stopped at the door, watching as she turned to leave for her own home. “Maybe your mystery soldier is from the era of Lucius.”

Lucius…

tagging the lovelies: @cavillscurls @ozarkthedog @elflutter @eupheme @joelsdagger @stargirlfics

[pyreo]

was sweeping up some map completion for a gift of exploration and just got reminded of so many cool things I like about original gw2/worldbuilding

I love Orr and how weird and alien it is. The ambience of sitting there with everything damp, dripping, made of coral, literally a lost world that doesn't fit above water any more. I love how oily the sky is and that occasionally a huge shadow sweeps over you as something like Blightghast/other risen dragons go by overhead. I love that it looks like this

It's so otherworldly. I especially like the eerie birdcalls (I know it's just a real bird I'm not used to, but it's so unique and strange)

I like that the end of the Pact storyline doesn't feel... hopeful. At all. Orr is blighted and diseased, mottled with decay, with lost journals from people who were never going to survive. I like that the story culminates here, grandiose but mournful. You're trying again but this place you're in was already lost, with thousands of lives, and it doesn't feel like triumphant reclaiming. I like that none of the game through these >10 years has really framed oncoming war, and fighting to survive, with glory. I like that the fight through Orr doesn't really feel righteous. It's no clash against a tyrant or something with belief in good over 'evil'. It's just sad. Trying to get through and survive it.

I like the clearly LOTR-emulating Orr music, particularly how this one goes into a male chorus at the end-

I like how an entire map is called Malchor's Leap and that clues you in to it being named after something and then you can go find out and it's just even more depressing. But at the same time, it reiterates the history of Orr - that human gods lived there and it must have been full of incredible splendour and that's gone and you will never see it, you can only try to imagine based on the wrecks of cathedrals.

And speaking of the human gods, I just like how each race has their own take on religion and they all get something tailored to their outlook. Nobody disputes one religion over the other like in our world - each one is generally assumed to be true on some level, and in some cases, provably real, but each race gets something different from their history and belief system anyway. Humans used to live alongside their gods but have been abandoned and none of them know why (and we eventually do find out what happened). Norn can invoke a governing spirit from any creature alive and choose the one that they'll serve best, but these spirits can be killed and you can see what happens when they mourn them. Sylvari have a stone of commandments from their long-dead benefactor that has completely fucked up their society because they aren't sure if following the tenets is wise or brainwashing. Asura actually believe there is an equation that can solve the entire universe and everything is part of a grand scheme beyond knowing, which is something more like a philosophy than religion but deserves mentioning because it means the Intellectual Goblin Race weren't made into cut and dry atheists as a cliche. They believe in something and have personal interpretations about it. One of them even made a machine to make the Eternal Alchemy viewable that drove someone insane when they used it and I just like how things asura do tend to backfire.

And the Charr. I mean. They're the atheists and it's all because they were duped into technically following a human god for a while and they're never going to get over-- no, wait. They started getting over it and the Flame Legion integrated with regular society again after their leader was deposed, because things moved forward and changed, and I like that too.

I feel like I can talk and talk on and on about this fictional history because it... just.... works? It's all part of a tapestry of cause and effect and meaningful characterisations. And they deliberately set up the basis for their playable races and then made the story NPCs generally turn those expectations around - Caithe being a grief-ridden assassin, Rox being a superstitious oddball, Zojja being irrational, Canach starting out as a pompous asshole.

I like the Ceera is still around in HoT and if you took the personal story route where her husband died, she still hasn't forgiven you and never does.

I loved Zafirah (bring her back!) showing that badly rooted spirituality can be redirected into something healthy and healing without being negated.

I like how many NPCs show up as part of a story step and you can ask if you know them and they'll say oh, yeah I was in the Pact with that whole thing? Or 'I saw you from a medical tent in maguuma and didn't think I'd make it', constant callbacks and the sense that minor characters have a continuous existence independent of you.

I like how solemnly the game takes its wins. The initial campaign against Zhaitan makes sure to kill characters off and made bringing Destiny's Edge along to it feel like its own entire obstacle. Heart of Thorns smashes any confidence the Pact has after the base game and takes an intentional sacrifice to be won, and I still think about him. Going after a literal god in Path of Fire costs you your life. Going after Kralkatorrik, with Destiny's Edge's guilt weighing on you, costs you your own child. Saving the fate of the world by fulfilling the exact conditions for Aurene to ascend costs you your child again, being taken from you so that the whole world stops rocking on its axis, losing your baby as she turns into a deity. Icebrood Saga puts you in the shoes of a relatable, easygoing crew on the opposing side, then sits back and waits for you to kill them all to continue. When you fight the final dragon as the final boss in Dragon's End you don't want to kill her at all, and she begs you to leave and get away so she won't harm you while you try, in bitterness and desperation, to end her unfathomably long life.

And the entire short but brilliant arc with Joko made sure we don't really feel empowered or just about the choices we've made.

It's just. Been really fucking good.

[lottiesnotebook]

happy friday! “my body was bruised and I was set alight” for lace perhaps?? 👀

This took me FOREVER because I had not played enough Veilguard to make it perfect, but I hope it was worth the wait! I saw the end of Lace's Veilguard Companion Quest and decided that This Too Is Yuri, so I hope you enjoy... I think the rarest pair I've ever written? Happy Femslash February! XD

Lace Harding/Shaper Valta, spoilers for Veilguard and The Descent, ancestral trauma

@vigilskept | @dadrunkwriting

my body was bruised and i was set alight

The embodiment of the Titan’s wrath is redder than blood, redder than rage, redder than the blighted lyrium that creeps through the bones of the world. She is also beautiful, shining like a ruby plucked from the depths of the earth, features delicate as an Orlesian doll.

(She’s just like a doll! she remembers the human girls in the village whisper, as they picked her up, as they pulled her hair from its braids, as they carried her about like a much smaller child. She’d bitten one of them, once, and her mother had slapped her for that. You need to make friends, Lace, she’d snapped. You’re not as big as you think you are.)

The Titan’s wrath is familiar, too, as she seizes her wrists, as her crystal-studded hands carve bloodied lines into her skin.

You left! she hisses. You pushed us away! You did not listen, even as we screamed!

She knows those features, those wide-spaced eyes. She knows the smooth hands that grip her, never hardened by bowstring or blade: scholar’s hands. Shaper’s hands.

“I looked for you,” she says, and stops trying to pull away. “I searched the Deep Roads for days. Even after the Inquisitor left, and the Legion- I kept looking.”

You did not find me, the Shaper’s ghost growls, you did not listen, when we cried out for you!

“I’m listening now,” she says, and she opens the door she’s kept barricaded for years. Just like a doll! So small, so precious! Aren’t you young, for a soldier? Surface-dwarf, casteless. Sever the Titans, it will win us the war. She remembers how Solas looked at her, with a sense of wonder and horror. Now she realises why — he sees her, has always seen her as a limb still twitching despite being severed long ago. Not a person. None of them are people, to him. None of them have ever been people to him, not really. He made them less than that, and now he’ll kill them to fill the world with people who are real to him again.

The wrath that mingles with her own is a familiar roar, a familiar agony — every feeling the Titans have had since their severing, shoved down, bottled up for an eternity, as she’s shoved down ever feeling behind a sweet smile and a can-do attitude. Sweet Lace, helpful Lace, never takes offence, never shirks her share of work, never complains when people treat her like a child or a doll. Remembering this helps, somehow, makes their anger more her own, more beneath her control, and distantly, strangely, she feels that empathy reflected.

There is a sorrow, somewhere deep within the Titan’s heart, for a young Lace Harding, a sorrow she would have loathed before this moment, but now she feels, understands as her own. You should have had a home close to us, within us. Folded safe within the Stone, held within our arms. The Blight has driven so many of you from us, and we mourn you, even as we cannot hold you, our loved ones, our lost ones.

“You can hold me now,” she murmurs, and she does not know if she speaks aloud or through the bond that flows between them. “I can hold you.” She rests her hands on the Titan’s- on Valta’s shoulders, and thinks about the woman beneath the rage, the Oracle, speaking only through statues for so many years. When was the last time anyone held her? When was the last time she spoke to another face to face, rather than through mouths of stone? When was the last time there were any shoulders to carry her rage but her own?

They had not been close, before, during the Descent. A Shaper of Orzammar was of a caste far beyond the reach of a Dust Town casteless, let alone a surfacer born beneath an alien sky, and Lace… if she couldn’t make someone like her, she avoided them, rather than confronting them. None of this matters now, though. Nothing matters beyond the rage that ripples through their shared blood, the trauma that has rippled across a thousand years to choke them both. This secret that’s been buried below the earth for centuries, the secret that Valta excavated and Lace will bring to them the surface, expose to the light of the world’s scrutiny.

Now, they bruise and ache together, they burn in the fires of their ancient ancestor’s wrath and pain. Now her hands find Valta’s hair, her lips find her mouth, sharp fragments of lyrium cut through the thin skin of her lips, and this time, despite the pain, she does not let her go.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible by James Russell Miller

The Resurrection (John 20:11-23)

John tells us that the new tomb in which Jesus was laid to rest, was in a garden. This is more than a picture it is a little parable of the meaning of the grave of Christ. It was in a garden. Wherever the gospel goes it makes gardens, turning deserts into places of blossoming beauty. Since Jesus died and rose again, every Christian’s grave is in a garden. All about it bloom the flowers of hope and joy. Our dead shall rise again. Like His Master, the Christian cannot be held by death. As sad as bereavement is, the Christian has comforts which bloom like spring flowers and pour their fragrance on the air.

The first appearance of Jesus after He arose, was to Mary Magdalene. She and other women had taken a tender part in the burial of Jesus, and then had come very early in the morning of the first day to the garden where the grave was. They were startled to find the grave open. They hasten to find Peter and John, and, having told them what they had discovered, Peter and John came quickly to the grave. John, being the younger and fleeter, first reached the tomb but Peter, being the bolder, hurried in while John lingered. When Peter had pressed in, John followed him. In the grave they saw the linen cloths lying but the body was gone! The two disciples, amazed by what they had seen, went to their home. Mary, however, could not tear herself away from the spot. She wept inconsolably because the body was no longer in the grave.

She did not realize that if the body had been there that morning, she would have had real cause for weeping. Then the world’s hopes would have been quenched, lost in the darkness of eternal night! What to her was a great grief was really the secret of a great joy. The things which we regard as causes of sorrow, if we could see them as God sees them would appear to be secrets of joy. The empty grave, if only Mary had understood it, was the attestation of the Messiahship of Jesus!

Mary saw a vision of angels. “She saw two white-robed angels sitting at the head and foot of the place where the body of Jesus had been lying.” We find angels all along the story of the life of Jesus. They sang at His birth. They ministered to Him after His temptation, and again in the Garden, after His agony. He said that He could have called twelve legions of angels to His defense during His trial. Now we find angels watching in His tomb ; and at the ascension we see them waiting to comfort His disciples as their Master parted from them.

The presence of the angels in the empty grave, suggests to us the change which Christ’s resurrection made in the graves of all believing ones. We dread the tomb. It is a place of impenetrable darkness. But since Christ lay there, the sleeping places of His followers are all brightened. They are little beds in which the bodies of the saints rest until He who has the key to their graves shall come to call them again. If we had eyes to see, no doubt, as we lay our loved ones away, we would see angels sitting at the head and at the feet of each, keeping their sacred watch.

The angels tried to comfort Mary, asking her why she wept. She told them why very frankly, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they have put him.” “At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.” She supposed He was the gardener. She was thinking of Him as dead, and did not recognize Him in the living man she saw. Then her eyes were dim with weeping, and she could not see .

Many a time it is the same with us. Christ is close by us in our need or in our sorrow but we cannot see Him, and so we miss the comfort of His presence. If only we would believe in the constant presence of Christ with us, and would make that presence real by our faith, our darkest hours would be lightened, our loneliest moments would be filled with companionship, and in our weakness we should have all the divine strength about us. It was said of Moses that “he endured, as seeing him who is invisible.” Moses did not see God but His faith made the presence of God as real to him, as if he had seen Him with His human eyes. Such faith as this would change all of life for those who believe in Christ.

The first recorded word from our Lord’s lips after He arose, is that which He spoke to Mary here, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” The words were spoken to comfort one who was in sorrow. Jesus had always been a comforter. He comes to everyone who is in grief with the same question, “Why are you crying?” He had come that morning from the grave, achieving His great victory over the last enemy. He was therefore the first who could have spoken such words, for before that, no one was able to wipe away the tears of sorrow. His question implied that there was no need for weeping. Mary was grieving for a dead Christ and the living Christ was standing beside her! In our grief it is the same He who comes to us is the risen One. The hand of Jesus has been wiping away tears ever since that morning. We may not get back our godly dead but we have the blessed assurance that they have passed into the keeping of Christ, where they will be safe forever. Then some day we shall greet them and be greeted by them, alive!

Jesus revealed Himself to Mary by speaking her name. “Jesus said unto her, Mary ! ” The ancients believed that death washed away completely every memory of the earthly life, its friendships even passing from recollection. But we see Jesus here on the other side of death, and we find the old affections unchanged in Him. He took up the threads of the story with His friends just where they had been broken off three days before, and went on as if only a night’s sleep had intervened. Death made no break in His life. Nothing was blotted out, nothing beautiful or good, nothing worthwhile. When our friends pass through death, whatever changes may be made in them, we know that there will be no change in their love for us. “Death does hide but not divide.”

When Mary heard her name spoken in the old familiar tones, she recognized Jesus. “She turned toward him and cried out, Rabboni!” We do not recognize Jesus until He calls us by name. We love Him because He first loved us. Mary’s answer showed the loyalty of her heart. She was ready now to devote her life to Him.

Many people get only a fragment of the true thought of Christ. They believe in Him as their Savior but do not think of Him as their Lord and Master. Their faith leads them to trust in Him for salvation but it does not bring to them the comfort of a living Savior, present with them, helping them. They think of themselves as having been saved by Christ’s death upon the cross but do not realize that, important as the cross may be, their actual salvation comes through their attachment to and companionship with a living Master and Friend. Mary had a true conception she took Christ as her Master. She surrendered herself to Him.

It was a strange word that Jesus spoke to Mary after she had recognized Him. “Do not hold on to me, … but go to my brethren, and say unto them.” He probably meant to say to her that the old physical relationship was not to be reestablished. He was risen now, and the relationship must be spiritual. Further, He meant that there was no time now for the satisfying of love, however tender and true it was. Mary would have stayed at the Master’s feet in the rapture of her joy and homage. But there was something else more important. Others must know of the joy. A message must be carried immediately to the other friends of Jesus. We are too apt, when we find a great joy, to wish to cherish it alone. But duty to others calls us away. When at the communion table, for example, we find a great gladness in fellowship with Christ, we must never forget that there are others outside the sacred walls, who are in sorrow, or in danger, and we should hasten to them with the message of Christ’s love.

The scene in the upper room that night was a wonderful one. The disciples had assembled in fear and trembling, hiding away, lest harm might come to them. Suddenly Jesus Himself appeared. “Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said unto them, Peace be unto you.” This was the first appearance of Jesus to the disciples as a group. His first salutation to them was, “Peace be unto you!” The words were familiar as a common greeting but they had a new meaning to those men that night. They fell from the lips of the risen Christ! Wonderful among the gifts of Jesus to His disciples, was the giving of His peace. It quiets the troubled heart. It changes sorrow into joy.

The disciples were awed by the presence of their Master, and to quiet their trembling fear He held up His hands. “He showed unto them His hands and His side. Then were the disciples glad, when they saw the

Lord.” They were pierced hands which He held up. They bore the prints of the nails. Thus they assured these men that they were the same hands which had been nailed to the cross! The wounds told them first, that He had indeed died for love of them. They told them, further, that He had risen also, His hands still bearing the marks of the nails. Christ is known everywhere, by the print of the nails in His hands. A gospel without these marks is not a gospel. The preaching that does not tell men of the cross will not point men to salvation.

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

Liliana Vess Propaganda Post

shes a multiple centuries old necromancer. she accidentally poisoned her own brother and he went evil then she was sad about it for ages. shes been historically manipulated by some guy whose identity was unknown for ages and whose lore is contradictory. the laws of reality got altered so she made a pact with four demons brokered by an evil dragon to live forever and got cool tattoos. she seduced one of mtg's other main characters then betrayed him. and also dated his best friend iirc. she cursed a guy to go evil and go around killing all planeswalkers. she killed one of the demons she made a deal with. she blew up an ancient demon prison to kill another one. she joined a group of well meaning heroes and made friends with them but then it turned out her real motives involved killing another of those demons, who she ripped apart with zombies and let her undead feast on, and her actions tore the group apart. they also got beat up real bad by the dragon she made the deal with. she went to another plane and killed the last demon but the pact defaulted and she was indebted to the evil dragon, who made her turn on her allies and go evil. she commanded his zombie legions when he tried to absorb the power of every other interplanar magic user. after her friend died attacking him she betrayed said evil dragon and stole his magic with his own giant zombies. she ran away and was declared a fugitive. theres other stuff that happened after that where she did more morally ambiguous things but ngl i kind of lost track of shit. she was a schoolteacher and defended the school. shes really cool and hot. shes super morally complex. shes even got a bunch of good cards that people dont like playing against sometimes. i love her a lot. please vote for my necromancer girlboss queen

she's a necromancer. she's fantasy catholic. her parents tried getting her to become a nun to curb her wild and crazy attitude and in response she had more sex with MORE stableboys. she accidentally turned her sick dying brother into a zombie while trying to heal him. she bargained for eternal life/youth and unlimited power by making a deal with four demons. when she stopped being into the whole demon's plaything thing, she made a deal with the dragon who brokered the contracts to get out of them. she manipulated, gaslit, and seduced a powerful young telepath into helping her break these contracts and becoming her dark prince of a crime syndicate, and then accidentally fell in love with him FOR REAL. she (paid for someone to) murder his boyfriend to make sure he would help her, because she doesn't know how to ask for help, she only knows how to force people into situations where their only option is helping her. it didn't work. her trust issues gave him trust issues which gave her more trust issues. she tried it with him AGAIN years later and was such a pitiful little meow meow about it he said yes even while knowing it was a mistake. his entire friend group thought he was crazy to do it because they could see all her red flags from the moon. she's fun and flirty and lives only for herself. as the flagship Black Mana(tm) character for Magic: The Gathering's color theory, everything she does is selfish, power-mongering, exploitative, and assumes everyone else is doing the same thing. in her good guy redemption arc, she asked a vampire how he just "decided to stop eating people". she doesn't know what a mango is.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

I have some not-so-nice oc ask game questions for Cairn (because my brain went 'mound of stones, built as a tribute/memorial? sounds depressing and symbolically grand!) X'D No need to answer them all!

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

@eternal-transcience

Hi Kim! 🩷

While I was searching for names for all my OCs when first writing up Nice To Meet You, Brother and attributing reasons in-universe for those names, Cairn got his in a *slightly light-hearted fashion. (I'll throw those screenshots at the bottom.)

When burying the dead, if they have the time to, he does often make small cairns to serve as headstones.

ALONE: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

I imagine Cairn wouldn't do too well with being alone because he's never really had the chance to find out what that's like. He has all the brothers of his Legion (and his "twin") around him at all times. If he was suddenly and truly alone, it'd probably be very unnerving to him. You spend ten years developing alongside thousands of brothers at any given time on Kamino, you get used to the lack of complete privacy, I'd imagine.

BOUND: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

Cairn has not, thus far, been imprisoned or captured in any of the installments to the ever-expanding NTMYB storyline. He counts himself lucky for that.

BREAK: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Losing Carver. The two of them have a "Domino Twins" situation going on where they had three batchmates who they lost not long after they finally joined the GAR. Cairn has plenty of friends he spends time with in addition to being around Carver, but since the storyline leans quite heavily on a theme of "batchmates are (often) your closest brothers" Carver's loss would affect him. A lot.

Fortunately he's already good friends with Scruffy; he "adopted" Canvas into his batch after Canvas lost all of his brothers, and he'd happily do the same thing for Cairn in the event Carver died.

No one would get to see the memorial mound his twin makes for Carver's grave until Cairn's good and done with it.

*Screenshotted excerpt from 'Nice To Meet You, Brother' behind how Cairn got his name.

Excerpt from 'A Brother's Love Will Heal You' when Cairn finally meets who he got the name from.

[archesa]

From the past, with all my love - 1335 AE

Dust had gathered in the study, a thin silver lining veiling the furniture and golden specks twirling like snow in the sun filtering through the frosted windows.

A shroud of salt and rust stained the glass and the cascade of fire orchids falling from the heights of the greenhouse onto the side of the fort had rained a storm of withering petals on their courtyard where Trahearne had summoned minions to help him beat the rugs and pillows – a flesh and vines golem repeatedly charging a carpet hanging on the low branches of a plum tree.

In the meantime Anwen dusted the furniture Trahearne had omitted to cover before his hasty departure for Cantha – most of them, really, but how could she blame him – and used this opportunity to declutter and reorganise their quarters.

Their desks in particular required some attention. A pile of heavy leather-bound volumes on magical theory and the dragon cycle were stranded there – vestiges from a time just passed – in the midst of Trahearne's own research on the quaggan and largos' exile from the depths – recently proved not to be owed to the elder dragon of the abyss.

She scoured the notes and slipped them in the escritoire, the familiar scent of parchment and ink filling her lungs and welcoming her with a sense of belonging. Under the canopy of glass and metal, in the shade of orchids and wisteria, lulled by the sound of waves breaking on the fort, she was home.

The stationary barely fit the cylinder desk. Her curiosity piqued, she pulled the escritoire from the drawer, a bundle of letters neatly wrapped with a gold and sapphire blue ribbon, falling on her lap, from the depths of the secretary.

She stared, awestruck, as her own writing spread endlessly on the page – deep blue ink and never sealed messages she had long thought lost and regretted she never sent.

And here they were. Every single one of them – most unfinished, as she had left them, dated from 1325 to 1327.

Dearest friend,

An eternity it seems passed since we last met.

I hope life in Orr is treating you well, and that your duties to Pact allow you some respite.

I am writing from Lion's Arch, on my way to the Black Citadel at Tribune Brimstone's request. Assistance with the constant afflux of refugees from northern Ascalon.

The city is the same as ever but the sight of Claw Island, in the distance, beyond the bay, gives perspective to these last months. So much happened in so little time that neither of us really took the time to process.

I expect our business in the Citadel will conclude shortly – after Zhaïtan, what threat could be so hard to dispose of – and if you so agree, I shall bring you my transfer request for Caer Aval in person within a fortnight.

Yours truly,

Anwen Evergreen

PS : Meryw sends her love!

Dearest friend,

Our business in the Citadel it seems will require my attention longer than I originally planned.

The Dredges and the Flame Legion have formed an alliance and they harass these people endlessly. The Imperators seem helpless to deal with their guerilla – hit and run, scorched land – methods.

I took the liberty to offer the Pact's assistance – even if said assistance was then limited to Meryw and I – and assumed coordination of the agents and vigils already mustered there.

Dearest friend,

My sincerest apologies for not writing sooner.

Since Wintersday the days have grown, and yet they're still too short.

I hope you know you are on my mind-

A celebration of the Pact's victory is to be held in Lion's Arch in a fortnight. I dare hope our paths will meet there. I have so much to tell you. I realise now that you probably received a good dozen reports on the events that kept me in Central Tyria but–

Dearest friend,

I must once again delay my coming to Orr.

Captain Theo Ashford, who was killed during the attack, was a close friend of Logan Thackeray's. He asked me as a personal favour to assist the investigators – a detective of the Reach by the name Marjory Delaqua.

I am to meet her and her assistant – a friend of my brother, from the Academy, it's a small world! - in Lion's Arch today for further investigation of the crime scene.

I hope we can find the culprit shortly and I will then be free to officially file my transfer request to Orr.

I long to see Caer Aval again, and I cannot wait to offer my meager gardening talents to the restoration of the isles.

Yours truly,

Your friend, Anwen Evergreen

Dearest friend,

I wish to reiterate my family's thanks for your kind words and well wishes.

My brother is, I believe, on the verge of recovery as this misadventure did not even harm the most prominent part of his person : his ego is unfortunately unscathed. He seems more concerned by the ladies who witnessed his heroism than the healer's orders. And I worry for Meryw who must now endure him for the fortnight – and who definitely does not seem as annoyed as I had expected at the prospect of spending two weeks at the manor with Faren. I dread to think of the influence he might have on her! For all the love I have for my brother, I fear the world cannot endure another like him!

As for Scarlet Briar – or Ceara as she was once called – her motivations are still elusive... Chaos? Perhaps. But I fear there is more to her assault in the Reach – on the Queen's Jubilee – than most would deem.

The Shining Blade and the Seraph see no further than the immediate threat on the crown and Kryta. And the Arcane Council envoy dismissed her actions as a madwoman errance. But I have rarely met such a conflated ego – even for an asura! – and never seen Meryw have such a strong immediate dislike for someone, and though she remains tight-lipped on her reasons, I trust her judgement. Emissary Vorpp might be a brilliant dynamist but his expertise on the intricacies of the mind seem shallow at best.

But I digress.

These recent developments, I fear, will keep me in Kryta yet again.

Until we meet again, I remain yours truly,

Your friend, Anwen Evergreen

I killed you. Scarlet made me see this, made me do this. I know it was just a hallucination – just a nightmare but I see you every time I close my eyes, I feel your blood on my hands and your head on my shoulder as you breath your last.

Meryw saw Sieran.

Scarlet... This toxin showed us a glimpse of our subconscious, a place I hope my darkest nightmares will never wander back to... Every one of us peered into our deepest fear.

Mine is a world without you.

Dearest friend,

I hope this letter finds you well. I can barely believe it has been a year since last we met. I never expected

Caer Aval must be quite tranquil with the arrival of winter. If your duty allows, I would be honoured happy delighted honoured to have you as my guest for Wintersday.

The winter fêtes of the Faren house are famed for the brightness of their illuminations and the sweetness of their spirits.

If it so pleases you, we could avoid the crowds together.

Merry Wintersday, dear friend.

Letter after letter, she revisited this distant past – two or three lifetimes ago, it seemed – until the familiar sound of footsteps interrupted her.

Trahearne froze on the threshold, seeing her sat on the floor, the letters scattered around her and on her lap.

"You had them... I never sent them, and I thought they were lost forever, how...?"

"Meryw."

She stifled a breathless laugh.

Of course!

If there were anyone she could trust had innocent – or at least unequivocally good – intentions sending her correspondence, it was her shield-maiden.

"She wrote a few words with every unsent message, telling me of the unlikely places she had found the letters – blaming your distraction, your forgetfulness."

"I was busy...", Anwen smiled apologetically.

"I had noticed.", Trahearne chuckled. "These letters offered me a glimpse of you – stories I dared hope you would one day share with me."

"And... did I live up to your expectations?"

He laughed and knelt by her side, considering a moment everything they had been through these past ten years, the promise of tranquility after a decade – a lifetime in his case – of constant crisis almost too painfully sweet to believe.

"Our life together surpasses everything I could have imagined."

She leaned in his embrace, a content hum rumbling in her chest as she rested her head against him.

"Rereading those...", she sighed, "I realise how far we've come... and how close I have been from seeing my nightmare come true."

"A second Faren!", Trahearne breathed, in exaggerated horror. "Meryw is immune, but I believe Canach is a good contender..."

Her laughter filled the room with light and his heart with joy.

With the secondborn returned to Tyria to flaunt his success around the most elitists salons – and incidentally find more patrons to finance the Friends' Detective Agency – and Meryw recently recruited for the preparation of the wedding – and as such not-so-reluctantly entangled in the procession of bridesmaids counting in their ranks the oldest friend of Kasmeer, it seemed their orchard had succumbed to the gravitational attraction of Anwen's brother. And, most alarmingly, did not seem to complain!

He felt rather than heard her breath catch, a tremor in the quiet rise and fall of her chest against his.

“Dearheart?”

He reluctantly broke their embrace, a sinking feeling settling in his chest when he noticed her eyes glistening in the faint light. She blinked rapidly, a broken sob shattering on her lips.

"Anwen, what troubles you?"

“Sorry, I– I'm fine. Don't worry, I– I don't know why–...”

“It's alright.”, he murmured, tenderly holding her while she cried and leaned in his touch when he dried her tears.

“I'm so tired, Trahearne..."

It was a simple admission, but it was a relief.

"I... I think it's the first time since these letters that I cannot see further than the next step."

After they defeated Zhaïtan, she had naively believed there would be peace. They had defeated a dragon awakened for over a century and Trahearne had shattered its hold on the land it corrupted. Hopefully, the others wouldn't wake for a few centuries. And if she knew they would eventually bring the fight to Kralkatorrikk she had secretly hoped, since it was as good as dormant since Glint's death, that it would have taken years - time enough for the Pact to gather intel and reform an army to instill fear in the heart of an Elder Dragon. She had hoped...

"I... wanted nothing more than to spend all my time here, with you. And now we're finally there, now we can finally rest, I'm... ruining it."

"You're not ruining anything...", he breathed, tightening his embrace and resting his forehead against hers.

He knew this feeling. After the completion of his wyld-hunt he had felt… Bereft. Helpless. Forlorn. The great purpose of his life was complete and in its absence only remained emptiness and aching.

"Anwen, you're allowed to be tired. You're allowed to be sad because this chapter of our lives is over and relieved there is not battles left to fight. You're allowed to be unsure about the future and elated by what's to come. You're allowed to regret, to be proud of what you have accomplished."

"I'm– I just want to rest... with you."

"We rest, then.", he said softly.

She nodded feebly, a yelp stuck in her throat when he lifted her off the floor and carried her to the sofa nearby. A breathless chuckle broke on her lips, dispelling the shadow looming over them.

"I shall brew us some tea.", he offered, leaning forth to grab the nearest bundle of letters and laying it on the cushion beside her. "The one we brought from Seitung Province?"

"Would be perfect.", she smiled, the bitterness of nostalgia fading at the mere memory of the scent and aroma of white tea and sweet summer peaches.

Trahearne tenderly replaced a stray lock behind her ear and leaned in to lay a kiss on her cheek.

"Rest easy, Anwen. I'll take it from here."

(special thanks to @your-toxic-cat-universe for this beautiful piece! )

[tlatia-the-radiant]

Hello! This is the person behind the blog speaking out of character!

I want to start this by saying that this blog is NOT endorsed by the original creator of Tlatia, one Brother Dougal on the Bolter and Chainsword forums. I sent them a message and they still have not responded to me as I'm writing this post, one week after I originally messaged them. (Update: It's been like two months. Still no response.) (Second Update, as of 19 Feb. 2024: It has now been several months. Still no response.)

I am, however, trying my best to keep this in-line with Tlatia's characterization and the Dawn Legion's lore as I understand it. Obviously, I don't have all the details, but I'm trying my best. If you want lore, just ask; I'm more than happy to explain!

This post is the organisation for the Dawn Legion that I work with.

A few quick rules before going further.

Yes, I am fine with NSFW stuff, if you DM me and ask first. I promise I will not look down on you for asking.

Caveat to me being fine with NSFW stuff; certain characters are taken or are otherwise unavailable, and some of them have defined sexualities. If you're not sure, feel free to ask.

Please don't kill my characters without clearing it with me first. My lil girls are soldiers, and sometimes they may die, but I want to have a say in that.

Please don't godmode. If you need my characters to do A Thing, message me about it. I know I have a problem with godmoding; it's something I'm working on. If you feel I'm being too restrictive please tell me. I promise, tell me how you want the story to work out and we can work towards it together.

I am diagnosed with ADHD and on occasion you can really tell. If I make a formatting mistake, that's why. I can barely remember to tag things sometimes.

If you find that what I do just isn't for you, feel free to unfollow me, block me, whatever you want. You curate your experience, not mine, and vice versa.

This blog is run by a sapphic bisexual trans woman with a complicated gender. If you have issues with any of that—leave now and only come back once you're a better person.

With that out of the way: Tagging!

I tend to fast-reblog a lot, so not every post will be tagged.

"Tlatia Answers" is the ask tag, for all that good dialogue.

"Chronicles of the Lost Legion" is the writing tag, for any short stories I decide to post. This is where you'll get the deeper Dawn Legion lore and see how Tlatia reacts in modern 40k canon.

"Stories of Lost Time" is also a writing tag, but for 30k instead of 40k. These stories will be about what Tlatia was like before she left the Imperium; her life, her actions, the actions of her siblings, and so on. You might even catch glimpses of her love life if you look hard enough.

"Hope Springs Eternal || Warmaster AU" is the tag dedicated to, well, the Warmaster AU created by the wonderful @kcnhub. Aurelius, Primarch of the Second Legion, returns and retakes his mantle as the Warmaster. Naturally, shenanigans ensue, and since Tlatia is both the sibling he's closest with and completely unrepentant about abandoning the Imperium she has rather complicated feelings about this. Trust me, it's good.

"A Better World || Real Life AU" is my tag for the Real World universe that @warpcursed, @kcnhub and myself developed. In it, the Primarchs are all DnD characters developed by veterans as a method of dealing with their trauma. Tlatia is Tanya Farou, a former JTF2 combat medic who received the Victoria Cross for taking four bullets while treating wounded soldiers and only passing out after the fourth bullet broke her arm.

"Sunlight in Darkness || World of Darkness AU" is the tag for whenever, instead of 40k, we're writing about the World of Darkness (you may know it from Hunter: the Parenting or Vampire: the Masquerade). Tlatia becomes Tia, a Redeemer Hunter that managed to charm a Toreador into trying and eventually succeeding in reaching Golconda.

"Sight of the Singer" is my reblog tag. These are usually unrelated to the Dawn Legion and are instead me gushing over friend's writing.

"OOC Housekeeping" is what it says on the tin; blog maintenance and IRL updates and whatnot. (If I have any major delays in addressing your stuff, I'll try and post why under this tag. I'm a college student. It'll happen eventually.)

"Banter" is for any snippy back-and-forth with other RP blogs. It'll be less canon-driven and more meme-filled, and how the conversations happen might not make a whole lot of sense, but it's still RP, so I'll still keep it true to Tlatia's character. Mostly.

"NSFW" is self-explanatory. It's anything about sex or non-medical nudity. (Some of my characters are medics, so medical nudity may come up; it'll never be explicit beyond vague descriptions like "chest wounds".)

This post will be updated as this blog evolves.

For the Dream, the Outcast, and the Emperor!

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

SO idk fellas and felladies and those of you who know better, u know i don’t do too hot unless im constantly working on something so i decided i was gonna work off the stuff from the japanese descriptions of the calypso twins about you know... the whole ‘brainwashing’ thing

which is all well and good and then i was thinking about TFTBL while i was doing it and realized mmm you knooow only 2 sets of people have ever really “gone inside” a vault, being the TPS VHs and the TFTBL VHs and we know these two games were made within super close time frames to one another. SO i have a proposition for you, post readers: im here to suggest that Eleseer IS the Vault of TPS

tl;dr: i did actually do some talking about Eleseer being the ACTUAL Vault of Elpis (not the giant eridium crystal we see inside Eleseer) and that Tycho’s ribs was actually a generator/bigass key keeping the entrance opened. because that starry-background thing was also shown in the Vault of the Traveler and it made me go OH! those are the same thing. then eleseer must be inside a vault. because that actually makes sense. also the giant eridium crystal thing was just the Eridians’ version of the Claptastic Voyage turing the VHs into code.

and then i went, well im on the subject of TPS, might as well update my “the twins are going to use the chemical filth of elpis’s Vault to turn their followers into pseudo-Sirens like the Lost Legion Eternal” theory. so i did. and it was cool. there’s some concept art of the twins statues hanging out on a DAHL pumping station. and dahl did have a presence on pandora, but they were mining iridium, which is a metal. on Elpis, they actually did have pumping stations for the methane. which would make a lot more sense

also i go over the rakk-winged dude from the mask of mayhem again, because i mean... rakk wings... angel wings... i still can’t believe nobody else is talking about that. 

oh also possibly the idea that the Commander Lilith DLC ties into the Lost Legion Eternal ties into the ‘creating Sirens’ thing that’s going around right now. As in, all 3 things would be: it’s latent in person -> some outside thing activates it -> now they have their abilities/physical change. bonus points for the Commander Lily dlc tying in this plant monster thing to Eridian ruins (the mine) and the gas to the Vault Key/Map (hector uses the key/map to mass produce the gas). and that possibly tannis wanting to create a plant monster army is just foreshadowing for her creating an artificial siren army in 3 to help us defeat the twins. because i mean... why wouldn’t she. plsdon’tlettannisbeevil

so hear me out for a second

you guys know im 100% unconvinced that eleseer is actually inside Elpis. We see that giant hole in the ground, we see those eridian ruins, we see tycho’s ribs. and that, sure that is believable to me, because Tycho’s ribs is built into the ground. we see parts where the ruins are sticking out of the cryo rocks (methane rocks? hm.)

from the giant pit in the center of tycho’s ribs

the entrance to eleseer from tycho’s ribs:

and we know that Vaults only open with a key, and that key only automatically charges once every 200 years (OR according to the Vault of the Traveler, be anchored somewhere and held open by the key) and/or the key must be charged with eridium through a Siren

and i think you might see where I’m going with this.

do you remember that easter egg? Moon = Key. yeah? yeah.

Remember, every other Vault that is opened in the series requires a Vault Key (artificial or no) to be opened, and it’s not open forever.

im going to pause here and show some pictures of Eleseer for reference. compare them to those pictures of the inside of the TFTBL Vault, if you could :)

i noclipped out of the normal area to get a full shot of the platform

suspended in this weird starry night sky

which should look familiar to you now

because this is the same kind of area the Vault of the Traveler leads to

both these games were in development around the same time and i don’t think this is coincidence in the slightest

in bl1 and bl2 we don’t enter the vaults, instead whatever is inside comes to meet us, so we don’t have a frame of reference for those two vaults.

however

these two vaults look nothing like tycho’s ribs/eleseer.

not even the outside of the Vault of the Traveler looks like Tycho’s Ribs. in fact all three of these Vaults look identical. unlike eleseer and its ‘vault’

u might be saying to urself, but cruddy there IS a vault that looks like this in eleseer.

im getting to that >0>

my theory is that the Eridian buildings/ruins on Elpis (Tycho’s ribs, that big shaft/hole) 

is actually keeping the Vault of the Sentinel open at all times

and that

well that must take a LOT of power and eridium, right?

i think that’s exactly the purpose of tycho’s ribs

now im not a physics major but i would bet this is some sort of power generator

because of these pulses

and would it be so hard to reason that the eridians decided to build it in the cryo rocks/methane reserves of elpis in order to keep it cooler?

in fact i could not shake this feeling so i looked around on the wikia for tycho’s ribs

here’s a list of the areas in tycho’s ribs

compression chamber

exhaust port

maintenance access 42 (which im certain is a HGTTG reference)

observation deck

particle collection chamber

the most important of these areas i would say is 

maintenance access 42, mostly because it’s explicitly stated to be “lined up with a number of energy generators” that then leads to the exhaust port (and from there, eleseer)

sooooo break here because im about to switch gears 180%

----------------------

guess who just realized eleseer might mean ele-seer as in [Extinction Level Event]-seer [where seer is a person who is supposed to be able, through supernatural insight, to see what the future holds]- because everything in tps is named after seeing/watching. we got the Watcher, the Sentinel, even the Vault treasure is being able to see the future. considering most things are named after mythos in borderlands, eleseer is actually not a single word in mythos and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh “ele” and “seer” both actually mean something.

that is, Eleseer should mean something like ‘prophet of the extinction’

That’s pretty metal

also no good, i guess

am i about to rewrite my entire zarpedon and the lost legion eternal theory? oh i guess i am. wheeeeeeee

oh, and given that this was the story summary of the game before the website was updated all those weeks ago, i think we know exactly what sort of extinction was being prophesied

cool? cool

doesn’t help that tannis hints at this, too

with her ‘mass extinction’ reference in Commander Lilith

“... mass extinction. i figured we had at minimum six or seven years before something like that”

(sorry for the cruddy screenshot i took it my first time through, am not up for playing the entire dlc again for that one line right now)

okay i might pull this back later on in this post, because i think i have a good idea of where to go, but just keep this in the back of ur mind. sorry u gotta deal with my dumb ass jumping between topics so often lol

---------------------------------

anyway, tycho’s ribs being the opening to the real Vault of Elpis. Yeah. I refuse to believe there’s a giant space place in the middle of the moon just hanging out. i’ve discussed in an earlier post about whether or not it was a pocket dimension fueled by Eridium, but i mean what is a Vault but that?

i mean if they need eridium to power the opening to the vault, they’ve certainly got that covered, there’s eridium EVERYWHERE in tycho’s ribs. that plus all those (apparent) power generators... yeah i think they’re covered

also somewhat off topic but have you guys noticed in TPS how rocks surrounding cryo get white/blue lines, rocks surrounding lava get red/orange lines, and rocks surrounding eridian ruins get purple lines? 

probably from all that FUCKIN ERIDIUM

sorry i get off topic so much

anyway

i think that the entirety of Eleseer is the Vault of Elpis. That the entrance is being held open by Tycho’s ribs/Elpis through massive amounts of power/eridium

and it could be possible that using all that eridium to keep the Vault from closing is what’s causing all that ‘chemical sludge’ that mutated the Lost Legion Eternal into the pseudo-Sirens they are.

and remember that the center of eleseer is a giant eridium crystal? and apparently entering it teleports you inside and then you fight the sentinel and see the future?

i think that’s all an illusion. I wouldn’t argue that you go into the Eridium. sure. But i think that the whole thing in there is actually a program/hologram/illusion, or the eridian equivalent of it.

You remember in the claptastic DLC where the Vault Hunters are ‘turned into code’ and injected into Claptrap?

don’t you think that was like... really weird concept despite being canon? it’s possibly that was gearbox’s way (because gearbox did take over for that dlc) of introducing that idea as something that IS possible in canon, as to explain that the Vault of the Sentinel actually isn’t magic

and you might be thinking

what the fuck is cruddy on, this is super far-fetched

but it’s not!

think about it, the skybox is the EXACT SAME as Eleseer. which should already be ur first clue that something isn’t right, considering you can’t see eleseer anywhere around you. Even the map is the same. If you had a side quest open, you can see that the game still thinks you’re in the correct area. even though this area is LEAGUES bigger than the actual crystal. shit, you can even seen the enemies around you still

and what animation plays when you teleport inside the crystal? the same one as the lilith teleportation

all those circuit looking things. the same exact things that are everywhere on eridian tech, including the Vault Key from bl2

but you haven’t GONE anywhere

you’re still where you were before, the map confirms this, even the skybox confirms this and yet there’s no hint of eleseer actually around you

there’s more hang on lemme get the ~pictures~

okay you see that pink 2d fire effect on the ‘walls’?

if you actually walk up to it, you’re greeted with this grid effect locking you on the platform

and this effect on the floor

which you know, screams projection/hologram to me. i mean the fire is legitimately 2d. it’s flat.

also the Vault pieces that form the Vault of the Sentinel (ignoring that we’re already inside the Vault of the Sentinel

you know...)

they’re formed out of the floor. just materialized

which again... is really weird. and i don’t think this is a real Vault for obvious reasons (we’re already inside the Vault of the Sentinel, Eleseer is the Vault, etc etc) but also just look at the Vault in general

it looks weird

again, calling back the other Vaults we’ve seen in this series

they’re all made of stone/rock

the Vault of the Sentinel is... not? if it is, it’s shiny asf obsidian or something

either way, it’s entirely different compared to the other Vaults we’ve seen in the borderlands series, it’s entirely smooth with no markings and, while it’s broken into pieces to hold that aesthetic, it’s not cracked or anything. the broken look was likely intentional

too shiny

not a real Vault

~everything in this area is fake~

even the steps appearing as the sentinel walks down is just... not real to me

like the sentinel is the one controlling this tiny pocket dimension/hologram/program/whatever you get the idea

further proof by him summoning more structures as the fight goes on, from stuff to hop onto to avoid his attacks and barriers to hide behind

hell, he even crawls out of the ground himself at one point, as a bigger version of himself, which is probably the real version of him considering that one actually dies when we kill it, while the tiny one just keeps getting brought back to life and laughs at us

i mean cracks even appear around the floor when the big boy comes in, unlike every other thing that’s summoned from this floor cracks appear only when the Empyrean Sentinel comes in. the real sentinel

like this rock (iunno lol it’s the first screenshot i found) im saying the tiny sentinel and the vault he walks out of are both fake

the big sentinel is the real one come to kill us after getting frustrated we keep destroying his avatar

he’s feeling the gamer rage lol

and you know how when you kill a Vault Monster and the Vault closes, it drags it back inside? referencing the warrior here, because idk wtf the canonical thing is for the Destroyer given when Hyperion does

instead of being dragged into the Vault we see him walk out of, the one that’s right there in front of us, he’s dragged back into the floor

there he go

oh speaking of that Vault

yeah it’s not like any other Vault we’ve seen for another reason

check out the edges on this bad boy

it’s like a bubble in a bubble wand

good shit

meanwhile the Vault of the Sentinel is all crinkly and shit

like hmmmm i don’t THINK so

and when you actually walk into that structure? you’re just teleported to the back of the crystal you walked into

which should be another indication that maybe something isn’t right here

also the Vault Treasure, while inside that weird hologram/pocket dimension/program/seriously whatever you wanna call it, is probably an illusion, too. personally, i can see the entirely of this Vault being like a huge computer, that can compute the future of whoever touches the key and show it to them

We know Vault Monsters are tied into their Vaults, like the Traveler being able to teleport just like the Vault it came out of, the Warrior being the giant living weapon, the Sentinel is probably the guardian of the timeline or whatever. He probably has 3 faces to see the Past, Present, and Future. that’s my theory, anyway. i also noticed the one on the furthest left doesn’t have eyes, while the one furthest to the right doesn’t have a mouth.

which i thought was a cool detail to tie into that theory

anyway

i was going to regale you the tale of my lost legion eternal/Calypso twins theory

but like BETTER this time with MORE evidence

cuz i can and tbh that post is getting harder and harder to find every day

lemme just copy and paste the tl;dr for everyone who doesn’t wanna read the whole thing (i meaaan maybe do because it goes pretty in depth and im gonna summarize a lot of stuff plus im about to add more stuff here so)

“The whole Tl;Dr is that I think the events of BL3 are a chain reaction from Jack opening the Vault in TPS and that Zarpedon saw even further beyond into the future than Jack did with the 2nd Vault on Pandora. Bonus, the Lost Legion Eternal and the Vault on Elpis is the key to giving the Children of the Vault superpowers because the twins kept failing. Yes, that’s a reference to the cover art easter egg.”

So for those of you who don’t know, basically the twins claim to be giving their followers “special powers”

‘Learn special powers!’

and i’ve been thinking a lot about how they’re going to do that, exactly.

because Siren powers, well, there’s only 6 (supposedly), and you can be sure Tyreen isn’t going to give up her own. Now she could just be handing out Siren powers to high-ranking cultists after she steals them (like Liliths), but we see she (or Troy) is using Lilith’s powers on the cultists to teleport them on Promethea. so that can’t be the case.

But we do know about something that’s really, REALLY similar.

We know about the Lost Legion Eternal. and i’ve been thinking about them a lot. 

in the post I go over some ties to Sirens, notably how Magus ones can fling slag balls at you, just like Maya’s melee override capstone, how Tempests have the same elemental wings Sirens get and can sling elements, one is literally called a phasewalker, etc, etc.

but they’re not Sirens. they’re super imperfect and just weird. like the slag balls aren’t perfect orbs like maya’s is, they’re weird and wobbly. the tempests wings aren’t fully formed, they don’t even have, as far as i can tell, actual tattoos

and how did these Eternals get these weird Siren powers exactly?

it’s explained that these ‘rashes’ and shit started appearing after Zarpdeon’s dig team was exposed to the Eridian ruins, specifically some vapors in the air

[callback to the ventilation shaft in tycho’s ribs, anyone?]

during her boss fight, zarpedon even mentions that the Vault is buried underneath a ‘tangle of chemical filth’

so it’s obvious this ‘chemical filth’ is what’s mutating her team and turning them into Eternals.

but they’re not like... always using Siren powers.

they’re not always ascended

they actually have a trigger to ascend. for one, they gotta be low enough health. but two... im pretty sure they gotta have Eridium on them

a lot of the LLE models have Eridium on their belts

like so. which is fair, you know? lots of eridium on elpis apparently because of tycho’s ribs.

but then there’s this

when the eternals ascend

when they come back down, they have eridium growing out of their chests/shoulders

take this tempest for example

im also not 100% sure what their ascending animation even is? it looks almost like they're throwing eridium powder on top of themselves? or stabbing themselves with the crystals? idek

maybe they’re just saluting/grabbing at their bodies as they change

there’s gotta be something there involved with eridium cause they certainly don’t have those crystals growing out of them beforehand

i almost want to say their blood has crystallized/hardened into those crystals cause if you look at Zarpedon’s death scene, she’s bleeding neon purple

just like Guardians do

which is fun

im also curious if this, in any way, ties into the Commander Lilith DLC. Like we know the plant stuff in the mine was more than likely mutated by the eridian ruins and that they’ve already gotten into everyone on earth

and Hector is using the Vault Key/Map to synthesize the gas to ‘activate’ the particles that are already inside of everyone

which ties into the Lost Legion Eternal in that they’re also not always ‘ascended’ (mutated), but they need Eridium (Vault Key gas) to become their second state. given these are both caused by Eridian stuff, I 100% can see them being tied together in some way. probably worded a helluve a lot better than i just did, too.

OH

OHHHHH YOU KNOW I JUST HAD AN IDEA

okay maybe this ties not only into the Lost Legion Eternal, like you know what i was actually getting at, but Sirenhood as a whole. in that everyone is inherently a Siren, but only 6 are ever “active” at a time

and maybe Tannis can figure out a way to force this/induce Sirenhood in people. We know she’s the one who’s been studying both Sirens and the Vault Key (and Eridium) for the longest time. and now she has experience with this sort of deal with Hector and the gas. Maybe that’s why there’s cut content of Tannis going “oh is that why... nevermind” when talking about Angel’s powers appearing at 5 instead of birth.

s o oh man okay so the twins are going to use Elpis (moon is key) to create their army of pseudo-sirens

okay

okay oh man okay

and then tannis is going to reveal that she’s figured out a way to induce sirenhood in people like officially, none of that cheap rip-off shit and there’s gonna be an all out WAR of real Sirens vs fake Sirens

im just saying you know the game devs were all like “mmm we might introduce new skill trees instead of new VHs as dlc” and IM JUST SAYING maybe those new skill trees are already in the game and they’re gonna appear when the VHs get their own Siren powers (Amara gets an upgraded version of her own, like Lilith) and that’s why Guardian ranks are unlocked until the end of the story because then we’ll be able to buff ourselves with 

alright yeah sorry i got a little too excited there

let’s ground ourselves back in reality

we know the twins are planning to somehow give their cultists powers, and we know that the Lost Legion Eternal are basically pseudo-Sirens without the need to steal and gift anyone Siren powers (which you know we don’t even know if Tyreen or Troy CAN gift the powers they steal. I’m still holding onto the theory that Tyreen passes them to Troy with the arm shake and Troy is the output and Ty is the input, but now isn’t the time to discuss this).

it wouldn’t be viable to give all their followers Siren powers ANYWAY, unless they find a way to multiply them (possibly a part of Tyreen’s/Troy’s powers? like being the main holder, but being able to gift it to others so long as you keep yours- could explain the ‘knighting’ looking thing Troy does with a cultist)

UGH I KEEP GETTING OFF TOPIC OKAY I HAVE STUFF I WANNA SAY

THEY’RE GIVING THE CULTISTS POWERS

YES

OKAY

we know in the mask of mayhem, Siren powers are indicated by Angel Wings.

What if the fake Sirens are indicated by something that’s not Angel wings. something that’s still wings- still holding Siren powers- but maybe indicative of a corrupted angel wing

like uhhhhhhhh

rakk wings?

yeah

yeah let’s go with that

you know like how bat wings are supposed to be demon wings and bird wings are angel wings okay yeah we get the tie-in

im just saying! directly below this dude (who is the cover art psycho, just you know, putting that out there, probably some sort of tie in to the gold weapons (high standing in the cult) and the robes and stuff. you knoooow you only get powers when you’re loyal enough or whatever, you know)

we have lilith with her angel wings, indicating her Siren-ness. which i don’t think is a coincidence

i got more though, because of the museum of mayhem

we know on pandora, there are hyperion pumping stations for slag and eridium, right? so if the twins were controlling some pumping stations on pandora, it’s a given that they’d be, you know, hyperion-brand

so in this concept art we see something like a pumping station, with a waterfall of purple goop, which you know, i immediately associate with those darn eridians annnnd

this isn’t Hyperion.

this is DAHL baby

and where did dahl have such a big presence and huge pumping stations all over the surface? (with bandits already everywhere, no less?)

elpis!! 

originally dahl was there mining and pumping methane all across the planet, and, while they also had a mining presence on pandora before bl1, there weren’t any pumping stations there. they were mining for iridium (not to be confused with eridium), which really wouldn’t require pumps of any kind cause its a metal

so why is this pumping station considered holy holy holy? because it’s the source of their fake Siren powers

we even see, on the mask of mayhem, giant pumps with scaffolding and ladders all around them, they even have valves and shit

which, you know, are spewing vapor which could also tie into the gas that transformed the LLE

orrrr the purple stuff is just slag runoff from the eridium refinement process and cultists are fucking weird cause it could also just be a way for the twins to charge all the vault keys they’re collecting but damn it please let me have this lmao

i mean, why wouldn’t the twins go to elpis in search for the Vault that lets you see the future? that seems like a HUGE deal to me. especially for the two who seem to have this huge, grand plan in place. “you’re my most loyal follower vault thief, you just don’t know it yet” yeah i sure don’t let’s go to elpis and see what you guys have in store for us vault hunters!

man how fucked up would it be if us vault hunters had been brainwashed from the start to think the cult was the crimson raiders and the crimson raiders were the cult

now that’d be one hell of a twist

could explain why sanctuary-iii goes from orange/gray to blue/yellow with red graffiti on it

but uhhhhhhhh that’s a theory for another time because it is 2:07 in the am and im tired as FUCK

[taxus-fraud]

I just saw a post from @thefirstknife discussing the motif of an empty chalice as symbolism for Calus being eternally unfulfilled, and that sparked my own little rant.

I agree that the motif of the empty chalice is some fantastic symbolism. When he first picks it up, he gestures with it to the Tormentor, saying “This calls for a toast, does it not?”

This simple line is great specifically because it shows just how much he lost in his pursuit of the Witness. On the Leviathan, such a question would be rhetorical, immediately answered with resounding cheers, and at least a dozen servants tripping over each other to fill his chalice.

But here? The Tormentors don’t even acknowledge him. Not once in the scene do they even look at him. His Shadow Legion stands silently at the edges of the room, which you might miss because they’re all so far away from him at the edges of the frame. You can even contrast this with Caiatl. When she’s getting her forces ready for the final siege, she’s standing right with them, and her war cry is answered readily by her soldiers.

Deep down, above all, Calus desires attention, admiration, and love. From his daughter, from his people, from the Witness, from anything. Because in the end, all the wealth and power in the universe are useless if there’s no one to validate it. In his mind, he cannot be great without someone else to say how great he is.

That’s what I think is really driving him mad this whole expansion. He’s desperate for that attention and interaction. He isn’t getting it from his Shadow Legion, who are mostly mindless servants at this point. He’s definitely not getting it from the tormentors; even when they do talk it usually sounds like (̴̳̀ͅǝ̵͚̖͗ƃ̴̥͌̋ɐ̶͓̉̅q̴͔͊̑ɹ̵̙̳́ɐ̴̹͐̆ƃ̶̛͕͌ ̵̯̘̐ǝ̸͇̰̈́̃l̷̝̿̀q̷͔̈́ᴉ̶͙̪̊ƃ̵̺̮͑͋ᴉ̸̗͗̿l̴̤̓̚l̶͕̀ǝ̶͈̩̈̓ʇ̵̖͝ũ̸̼̅ᴉ̷̬̬̇ǔ̵̧n̵̩̻̈́̏)̵̳̿̈. So that leaves one entity: the Witness.

If you pay attention to every scene they share, you can really see how he constantly vies for the Witness to say something, anything about how great he is. But the Witness doesn’t care. It speaks plainly. It wants results. When Calus seems proud about how he’s doing great with the Veil, It humbles him by reminding him how the Veil is just a single step in their plan.

As soon as it leaves, Calus shifts his mood. He angrily demands (to no one in particular) that they hurry up and get the veil so he can move on. He sees that progress with the Veil isn’t getting the Witness to pat him on his stupid bucket head, so now it’s not a glorious mission, it’s drudgery that he has to get through before he can get a good grade in Disciplehood.

Calus just wants admiration and praise, and he craved it most from the one entity that would never give it to him.

[randomnameless]

I saw you make a comment on another post about Dorothea having lines but you think it doesn't improve her much. And yikes I can't help but agree. Dorothea is just awful in this game. Her sadness at the war came across as legit genuine in 3H. Here in Nopes it comes across as self righteous hypocrisy since there's no SS counterpart but only CF+ and CF 2.0. Even in AG she keeps bitching about how much she misses Edie and how war bad, even tho she is fine with it in SB apparently?! Dorothea, shut up

Daw,

To be fair, even in FE16 I found Doro...

well, kind of annoying bordering on irritating.

Her Church Sus comments are really the worst, like wtf is her "is it part of the church's teachings to teach us how to kill people", girl, you didn't join a monastery, you joined as a student of the Officer's Academy - a Military academy.

In a world where Kostases, Giant Beasts and Giant Worms are legion.

Idk, it's like someone joining Totsuki in Food Wars and complaing about having to cook??

I've also developped in the Nobles BaD post how Nobles are expected to have and perform certain duties, like, protecting their people. Doro refuses to consider this, and refuses to move a iota from her initial "nobles bad", even if... she is trying to end up with one of them to secure a good future.

And let's be clear, Doro being a sex worker or hating nobles but feeling like she has no other choice than ending up as a doll to have a future in Adrestia is fascinating, just like how she apparently hates herself.

The only support where this angle of hers is alluded to is in her Sylvain support - but seeing how Sylvain develops and exists in Nopes, I can't really see him end up on the long term with "Why the Goddess forces us to fight??" Doro, especially since Sylvain has real solutions he wants to try to stop the seemingly eternal conflict with people from Sreng.

(instead of blaming the Goddess).

Doro also has the dubious honor of being the only member of the BE to go "uwu don't want to kill Eddie" in SS, when everyone now knows about Flamey and their associates, Merceus being bombed and - say, Doro worries about the Opera Troupe in Enbarr, but apparently not because the Emperor might put them to the sword, no, she just worries about them for ~ reasons ~ and really regrets having to fight Eddie, when Caspar (i seriously love the dude when he's not a member of the bullshit eagle sus force) tells everyone in his very simple words "she got it coming".

Doro is moved to tears when Leopold offers his life in exchange of his soldier's - but apparently not when Leopold trounced randoms, and did very intelligent things as the Minister of War, nope.

Worst Doro moment for me is the "maybe we can keep the damages to the noble disctric of the city" which is... idk, as bigoted as saying an entire race of people has to die because their blood ruins the society.

First because it's especially icky to say this when her friends are nobles, and their families are still most likely living in those suburbs, Second because Dorothea more than anyone else know Nobles employ a lot of people, and if those areas are destroyed, one Ludwig might die, but 50 "Dorothea's mom" could also die.

Honestly, Doro should have been a Tru Piss exclusive character, refusing to consider other POVs (no Doro, Ingrid has a type, and it's not you), always blaming others Supreme Leader designed as the ones responsible for the war, not giving a frick about anyone who isn't in her immediate entourage, her "we killed Ferdie :'( " rings so hollow and empty (which is why fact she helped orphans is just jarring - if Doro helped those people who lost everything because of Supreme Leader, why the reluctance at having to fight her?).

IMO, Doro and Hubert are part of Edel's court, along with Monica. They are just here to make people feel bad/good for Supreme Leader. She could have been much more than the "sassy one liner kween" we got - for the only commoner POV we have in Adrestia, we have just "me me me church bad nobles bad me me nobles bad me me church bad".

She could have been better if she really sticked to one gun, like, idk, questionning nobles and what is their duty after Remire, something like

"They pretend to protect the people and yet the Church has to shelter those people! What are the Nobles in Enbarr doing?"

And if a Supreme Leader support is reached, maybe she could add

"Maybe this will change once Eddie becomes the Emperor..."

During the Ball maybe we could have a Doro reflect on her blindness and life in Adrestia

"They really throwing up a ball for everyone here! I even heard children from the monastery will attend to the festivities. I wonder would my life have been different if I had been sheltered by a church? ... Never mind me professor, Adrestia doesn't even have a church."

[ihatepeopleohnooo]

Spoilers for X-Men Red #5 and Immortal X-Men #5

Red #5

- this issue is so packed with deliciousness

- we finally get to see all the Great Ring in action (even though they got stomped)

- I still find it extremely unclever for Uranos to just be 'immune' to reality warping? Like tf how did he just ignore Ora Serrata's erasing stare?? She erases gods for breakfast for god sake. And how did he even manage to defeat Legion who can manipulate reality and manifest other powers at will??? Legion of X #6 better be giving answers.

- RIP Idyll, you deserved better (mutilated by Tarn, beheaded by Isca, just generally unappreciated lol)

- Also wtf Isca you bitch. But I saw that one coming a mile away. I wonder if on top of making her go to the winning side, her power also indirectly influenced her to not be near Uranos? Like she got teleported away by Nightcrawler because she switched sides and killed Idyll, so I think it also saved her from being killed by Uranos (not that she can die from that I don't think)

- Sobunar and Lactuca defending Arakko is so epic. Idk how Isca can survive against a literal ocean of monsters but oh well. I wonder if they're both alive. I hope so, but there's still a chance Uranos teleported away and finished them off in the 40 min that he has leftleft (also the fact that he bodied 4 Great Ring Members + Cable + Brand 💀)

- So it's confirmed by the end of the chapter that Table Dusk is intact although severely wounded (idk how Ora is gonna function after being gouged and idk how long Xilo will take to replenish his insects but they're both not looking good. Lodus Logos on the other hand seems way better than the rest). Table Day is still in question though I'm presuming that they're all alive since Sobunar and Lactuca aren't shown dead and Storm is on Earth. The only casualty is really Table Dawn. They lost Isca and Idyll.

- Magneto is so badass. I knew he didn't die when Judgement Day #1 came out. Twitter people all calling Gillen anti Semitic and stuff are just overreactive attention seekers who reads too much between the lines. Magneto is literally to angry to die. Even without a heart he's using his magnetism to control the blood in his body to keep flowing. That is so fucking hot. He's the real Omega Silver Daddy 🥵.

- "Such strategies are not the business of Table Dusk. This is war. A war we are losing. And so the Seat of Loss takes command" God damn I'm scared and turned on.

- a bunch of other things that caught my attention: Khora finally joined the Brotherhood?; Fisher King is definitely one of the 3 Night Seats; I find it hilarious that Brand tried to avoid Resurrection but died anyway lol that's what you get you double faced bitch.

Immortal #5

- Exodus is gay (or at least into men)???? I live for it. I hope this gets explored more.

- Winter Seat is indeed the Rainbow Gang. They're the seats of murderous gays. I Stan!

- Exodus was drawn really attractively in the panels of this issue. Idk what about him that just seems like a romantic soft lover boy from some angles.

- Exodus and his protectiveness and adoration towards Hope is sooo comedic. They make the best duo lol.

- I love how this issue showcases how powerful the telepaths are in the Quiet Council. Charles singlehandedly defended 12 people from the Uni Mind of the Eternals while Exodus, Emma, and Hope just sheared through their psychic defenses.

- also Exodus just bodying 2 Hex Eternals like they're nothing is just 👌👌

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible by J.R. Miller

The Resurrection (John 20:11-23)

John tells us that the new tomb in which Jesus was laid to rest, was in a garden. This is more than a picture it is a little parable of the meaning of the grave of Christ. It was in a garden. Wherever the gospel goes it makes gardens, turning deserts into places of blossoming beauty. Since Jesus died and rose again, every Christian’s grave is in a garden. All about it bloom the flowers of hope and joy. Our dead shall rise again. Like His Master, the Christian cannot be held by death. As sad as bereavement is, the Christian has comforts which bloom like spring flowers and pour their fragrance on the air.

The first appearance of Jesus after He arose, was to Mary Magdalene. She and other women had taken a tender part in the burial of Jesus, and then had come very early in the morning of the first day to the garden where the grave was. They were startled to find the grave open. They hasten to find Peter and John, and, having told them what they had discovered, Peter and John came quickly to the grave. John, being the younger and fleeter, first reached the tomb but Peter, being the bolder, hurried in while John lingered. When Peter had pressed in, John followed him. In the grave they saw the linen cloths lying but the body was gone! The two disciples, amazed by what they had seen, went to their home. Mary, however, could not tear herself away from the spot. She wept inconsolably because the body was no longer in the grave.

She did not realize that if the body had been there that morning, she would have had real cause for weeping. Then the world’s hopes would have been quenched, lost in the darkness of eternal night! What to her was a great grief was really the secret of a great joy. The things which we regard as causes of sorrow, if we could see them as God sees them would appear to be secrets of joy. The empty grave, if only Mary had understood it, was the attestation of the Messiahship of Jesus!

Mary saw a vision of angels. “She saw two white-robed angels sitting at the head and foot of the place where the body of Jesus had been lying.” We find angels all along the story of the life of Jesus. They sang at His birth. They ministered to Him after His temptation, and again in the Garden, after His agony. He said that He could have called twelve legions of angels to His defense during His trial. Now we find angels watching in His tomb ; and at the ascension we see them waiting to comfort His disciples as their Master parted from them.

The presence of the angels in the empty grave, suggests to us the change which Christ’s resurrection made in the graves of all believing ones. We dread the tomb. It is a place of impenetrable darkness. But since Christ lay there, the sleeping places of His followers are all brightened. They are little beds in which the bodies of the saints rest until He who has the key to their graves shall come to call them again. If we had eyes to see, no doubt, as we lay our loved ones away, we would see angels sitting at the head and at the feet of each, keeping their sacred watch.

The angels tried to comfort Mary, asking her why she wept. She told them why very frankly, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they have put him.” “At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.” She supposed He was the gardener. She was thinking of Him as dead, and did not recognize Him in the living man she saw. Then her eyes were dim with weeping, and she could not see .

Many a time it is the same with us. Christ is close by us in our need or in our sorrow but we cannot see Him, and so we miss the comfort of His presence. If only we would believe in the constant presence of Christ with us, and would make that presence real by our faith, our darkest hours would be lightened, our loneliest moments would be filled with companionship, and in our weakness we should have all the divine strength about us. It was said of Moses that “he endured, as seeing him who is invisible.” Moses did not see God but His faith made the presence of God as real to him, as if he had seen Him with His human eyes. Such faith as this would change all of life for those who believe in Christ.

The first recorded word from our Lord’s lips after He arose, is that which He spoke to Mary here, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” The words were spoken to comfort one who was in sorrow. Jesus had always been a comforter. He comes to everyone who is in grief with the same question, “Why are you crying?” He had come that morning from the grave, achieving His great victory over the last enemy. He was therefore the first who could have spoken such words, for before that, no one was able to wipe away the tears of sorrow. His question implied that there was no need for weeping. Mary was grieving for a dead Christ and the living Christ was standing beside her! In our grief it is the same He who comes to us is the risen One. The hand of Jesus has been wiping away tears ever since that morning. We may not get back our godly dead but we have the blessed assurance that they have passed into the keeping of Christ, where they will be safe forever. Then some day we shall greet them and be greeted by them, alive!

Jesus revealed Himself to Mary by speaking her name. “Jesus said unto her, Mary ! ” The ancients believed that death washed away completely every memory of the earthly life, its friendships even passing from recollection. But we see Jesus here on the other side of death, and we find the old affections unchanged in Him. He took up the threads of the story with His friends just where they had been broken off three days before, and went on as if only a night’s sleep had intervened. Death made no break in His life. Nothing was blotted out, nothing beautiful or good, nothing worthwhile. When our friends pass through death, whatever changes may be made in them, we know that there will be no change in their love for us. “Death does hide but not divide.”

When Mary heard her name spoken in the old familiar tones, she recognized Jesus. “She turned toward him and cried out, Rabboni!” We do not recognize Jesus until He calls us by name. We love Him because He first loved us. Mary’s answer showed the loyalty of her heart. She was ready now to devote her life to Him.

Many people get only a fragment of the true thought of Christ. They believe in Him as their Savior but do not think of Him as their Lord and Master. Their faith leads them to trust in Him for salvation but it does not bring to them the comfort of a living Savior, present with them, helping them. They think of themselves as having been saved by Christ’s death upon the cross but do not realize that, important as the cross may be, their actual salvation comes through their attachment to and companionship with a living Master and Friend. Mary had a true conception she took Christ as her Master. She surrendered herself to Him.

It was a strange word that Jesus spoke to Mary after she had recognized Him. “Do not hold on to me, … but go to my brethren, and say unto them.” He probably meant to say to her that the old physical relationship was not to be reestablished. He was risen now, and the relationship must be spiritual. Further, He meant that there was no time now for the satisfying of love, however tender and true it was. Mary would have stayed at the Master’s feet in the rapture of her joy and homage. But there was something else more important. Others must know of the joy. A message must be carried immediately to the other friends of Jesus. We are too apt, when we find a great joy, to wish to cherish it alone. But duty to others calls us away. When at the communion table, for example, we find a great gladness in fellowship with Christ, we must never forget that there are others outside the sacred walls, who are in sorrow, or in danger, and we should hasten to them with the message of Christ’s love.

The scene in the upper room that night was a wonderful one. The disciples had assembled in fear and trembling, hiding away, lest harm might come to them. Suddenly Jesus Himself appeared. “Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said unto them, Peace be unto you.” This was the first appearance of Jesus to the disciples as a group. His first salutation to them was, “Peace be unto you!” The words were familiar as a common greeting but they had a new meaning to those men that night. They fell from the lips of the risen Christ! Wonderful among the gifts of Jesus to His disciples, was the giving of His peace. It quiets the troubled heart. It changes sorrow into joy.

The disciples were awed by the presence of their Master, and to quiet their trembling fear He held up His hands. “He showed unto them His hands and His side. Then were the disciples glad, when they saw the

Lord.” They were pierced hands which He held up. They bore the prints of the nails. Thus they assured these men that they were the same hands which had been nailed to the cross! The wounds told them first, that He had indeed died for love of them. They told them, further, that He had risen also, His hands still bearing the marks of the nails. Christ is known everywhere, by the print of the nails in His hands. A gospel without these marks is not a gospel. The preaching that does not tell men of the cross will not point men to salvation.

[offtorivendell]

At the Bottom of the Garden

For @gentlehearted-kingslayer, Elain’s undisputed number one fan. Keep being you, lovely. 🌸🦇

Thank you, @nikethestatue, for both giving this a once over, and me the confidence to post it. Everyone, do yourselves a favour and check out her own amazing writing.🌹

Word count: 2,588

TW: none.

Disclaimer: this is an Elriel oneshot, with a side of domestic Nessian. It's also the first fic I've written since 13 year old me attempted to send herself to Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Hermione... and that was longer ago than I'd like to admit.

As @queenringer would say, please be kind. I can only hope you laugh when you're meant to, and nowhere else. There are notes at the end, if you're interested. Thank you for reading!

General Cassian, commander of the Night Court’s Illyrian Legion, not to mention mate and husband to Nesta Archeron, was miserable. Although it was nearing the middle of June, and spring was officially behind them, a thick wave of pollen had hit him as he landed in the back garden of Feyre and Rhys' - no, he reminded himself, Elain’s - townhouse. Struggling to see through his suddenly streaming eyes, he sneezed loudly, three times in succession, before settling his wings and turning to head down to the bottom of the garden. 

Elain had moved into the townhouse a little over a month ago, Cassian assumed to give some space to her younger sister’s newly grown family - though in reality, she was back at the River House so frequently, helping out with meals, her new nephew and the estate gardens, that it was like she'd never really left - so he had flown here on his way back from Windhaven to collect a house plant that Elain had grown for their home in the House of Wind. He was running close to an hour early, but Elain had told him she'd planned to spend her day in the garden, so he was sure she wouldn't mind. 

Walking down the crushed gravel path, footsteps crunching as he went, Cassian took some time to appreciate the changes that Elain had wrought to the space since she'd moved to Velaris a couple of years ago. 

Well, he thought to himself, 'moved' was putting it lightly. 

The older two Archeron sisters had been brought to the City of Starlight after their traumatic kidnapping, then eventual transformation in the Cauldron. After a rough start, Elain had rekindled her love of gardening, using it - Cassian assumed - to channel the emotions and energy she had felt at the time, turning what used to be an essentially barren plot with the odd shrubbery into an ever-changing riot of blooms that drew in your eye, much like his High Lady's paintings did. 

Much like watching Nesta dancing, he thought with a smile. Or, he chuckled to himself, when he could tell she was reading a particularly filthy scene in one of her favourite romance novels, but she didn't want him to know about it.  

He could always smell it, though, or feel it down their bond. His heightened fae senses aside, he knew her so well that he could see it on her face. His gorgeous mate, clever though she may be, was still not quite caught up with all of the new cultural norms that were part and parcel of being a faerie. That was okay, though; it hadn't been much more than two years since she and Elain were turned, and they now had an eternity to live and learn. For better or worse. 

Lost in his thoughts, or "Off with the faeries," as Nesta would have said, and arriving at the well-shaded potting shed before he realised he'd got there, Cassian pulled up short and called out for Elain, having not seen her on his way down. A thud, followed by low, hissed whispers and a deep laugh floated from inside, so he hesitated before opening the door of the dimly lit shed, only to find his brother with his back towards him, helping Elain up from the floor. Azriel's shadows swirled about his shoulders, his wings as outspread as the tight quarters would allow, while Elain blushed so furiously it reached past her neck, clashing with the green, now-rumpled homespun gardening frock that she typically wore when at work outside. 

Cassian sneezed again.

Sniffling in the heady, unseasonably pollen-rich air, Cassian couldn't fathom why Azriel was in the poky little potting shed with Elain. All of her seedlings were well and truly sprouted, and had been moved outside to encourage their tender shoots to harden back in early May - he knew, because she'd told him so at the time, with a smile so bright that it lit up her face. Why, then, had they been in here, on the ground? He guessed Elain must have taken a quick tumble, as Az was surely too controlled to fall himself; it would explain her flushed face, as well. 

Yes, Cassian thought, that must be it. 

"Cassian," Elain breathed, clearly a little frazzled. "You're early." 

"Yes, sorry." Cassian grimaced, not entirely due to his burgeoning, allergy related sinus headache. "I got done with Devlon and the other lords earlier than expected, so I chanced coming by. And here you both are!" He gave her one of his usual broad grins before adding, "Two for one." 

A little calmer now, though still quite red, for some reason, Elain offered him a tight smile and smoothed her skirts. 

"Yes, well," she muttered, "Azriel just came by to‐-to pick up a book about horticulture," she finished in a rush. 

Cassian’s gaze slid to Azriel, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Really? Since when do you enjoy gardening?" He asked. 

"I thought I'd try to liven up my balcony." Az gave him a shrug, wings rustling, as he looked to Elain and said softly, "I can come back for it later, if you'd prefer?" 

Having not seen much of his brother recently, as Azriel had resumed spying in the field now that Briallyn was gone, and the Crown, Mask and Harp safely warded only Rhys and Mor knew where, Cassian quickly cut off Elain’s imminent response.

"If you collect it now, you could come back with me to the House of Wind. It feels like it's been ages since we beat the shit out of each other." 

Azriel looked back and forth between Cassian and Elain a couple of times, and if he didn't know better, Cassian would have thought him unsure of himself. 

"Unfortunately, brother, you'll have to let Nesta feed you dirt tonight," Az eventually responded. "I have to head to the River House, to check in with Nuala and Cerridwen, so I won't have time." He gave a pointed look to Elain, who blushed again, lightly, before he clapped Cassian on the shoulder. "Soon, though. You can count on it." 

Walking to the door, Azriel turned back to Elain and said, his deep voice unwavering, "I'll be back for the book later on."

Elain only swallowed. 

Turning again, he left the small shed, wings tucked in tight as he walked through the door, before vanishing into the slowly lengthening shadows. 

Glancing back to Elain, who had begun to tidy up the scattered seed that had been spilt on the otherwise clean bench, Cassian smiled again, and Elain gave him an unreadable expression before quickly finishing her task. 

"The plant I have for you and Nesta is just outside," she said, sounding more confident than she had earlier. "It's a sword fern," she grinned. 

Cassian couldn't help smirking back. "That sounds… appropriate." 

Elain laughed outright. "Well, yes, there's that, but they're also relatively low maintenance, and tough to kill." 

Snorting, he responded, "Again, appropriate… well, two out of three." 

Elain gave him a light shove as she passed, before leaving the shed. "Shhh, you." 

Cassian chuckled as he followed his sister - for that's what she now was - outside, and over to a glazed, off-white pot, which held a still-small fern that was thick with bladed fronds. As he'd just joked, very apt for an Illyrian warrior and his fierce, Valkyrie mate. 

Attempting a deep breath of the slightly fresher air, Cassian sniffled once more as he simultaneously internally cursed each and every form of pollen in existence. Flowers, fruit and vegetables be damned; he just wanted to breathe unencumbered, to not be itching like the time Rhys put prickle powder inside his training leathers.

Elain appeared to be struggling to pull a small envelope out of her skirt's deep, dark pocket, but she eventually got it loose and handed it to him.

"These are the care instructions," she nodded to the envelope as he took it from her hand. "Don't stress, there isn't much to do, and I'm here if you need anything, but I doubt you will. It'll eventually need repotting, but not for a while yet." 

Cassian took the note and pocketed it, just as Elain’s breathing hitched, ever so slightly. Not much, but enough for his keen fae hearing to pick up. He looked up, to find her patting down the front of her dress, roughly. As if something was inside it. 

"You alright there?" He asked. 

A little red once more, Elain briefly, tightly, inclined her head. "There must have been a bur, or something, caught in there from earlier. Some of these plants have bits that can get in anywhere." Strangely, her voice raised a little at that last bit, but Cassian pushed the thought aside as he moved to pick up the fern. He couldn't wait to get back home to Nesta. To air that didn’t make him itch and sneeze and cry.  

"Shoo!" He heard Elain breath, and he quickly pivoted to see her swatting something away from her backside. 

"A bug of some sort," she responded to his questioning look, and he nodded his understanding. Bugs were almost as bad as pollen, in his book, especially flies at the height of summer, when they'd land on him and walk all over his torso as he trained. The itching and tickling was abominable, and that seemed to be what Elain was dealing with now. 

"Thanks again for the fern," he remarked, giving her the side-long hug that his left-armed grip on the pot permitted. "Nesta is looking forward to having a piece of you with us, up at the House." 

Still a little stiff, Elain gave a small smile, her right hand tightly clutching her skirt as she leaned into his side. "Hopefully I'll be able to make it up there a bit more often in the future." 

"I'd like that," Cassian smiled. And he would. So would Nesta, now that the sisters were well on their way to repairing their relationships with each other. It made his heart sing, to see his love becoming truly content, after everything she'd been through. 

Sighing, he released the smallest Archeron sister and stepped away. "I'd best be off then," he said, stretching his wings to prepare for flight. Oh, to have Azriel’s shadows at his beck and call, to be able to winnow when his wings had grown tired after a long hours of use. He knew his brother had a complex relationship with those shadows - whatever they truly were - but they did have their benefits. 

Elain nodded, glancing over to the large, shade-giving shrub that grew to the side of the shed - a rhododendron, if he remembered correctly - as the setting sun tinted it gold, before looking back at him. 

"Thanks for stopping by!" She said brightly, moving towards the rhododendron, to give his wings more room. "Say hi to Nesta for me, and pass on a hug?" 

"You've got it!" He grinned, and took off with a boom of his giant wings, shielding the precious fern with a bit of his magic. 

As Cassian cleared the top of the townhouse and looked back down, his eyes finally clearing fully from whatever had set off his hay fever in the garden below, he could have sworn that he heard Elain laugh as the growing shadows of dusk appeared to consume her form.

Shrugging, he groaned a little at his now-stiff wings - the cumulative tally of all of my battles finally taking a toll, he supposed - before gaining more altitude, banking and heading home to his favourite person in the world. 

*

Nesta was halfway through the newest book on battle tactics and strategy that the House of Wind had found for her - along with a pile of romance novels that reached to her knee, which made its opinion on military non-fiction quite clear - as Cassian walked into the family library and set the fern down on the table. 

Smiling up at him, Nesta uncurled her strong legs, stretching them before getting up to give him a hug. 

"You're home early. How was your day?" 

"Oh, you know. The camp lords were the camp lords. Devlon was a little better than most, but still a pain in my arse." He smiled down at her as she settled comfortably into his embrace. "How about you?" 

"Good!" Nesta's voice became muffled as wriggled a little closer. "Mor was great today, and she got along with everyone. We'll learn a lot from her." 

She glanced at the potted fern. "How was Elain?" 

"Fine," he replied. "Up to her ears in plants, as she likes to be, though she appeared to have had a bit of a mishap just before I arrived." 

Nesta looked up sharply, concern lining her features, so Cassian elaborated. "Nothing major, I promise. I walked in to find her on the ground of her potting shed, but Azriel was already there, helping her up. She must have tripped - there was a bit of a mess, and her face was bright red." He grinned at the memory. 

His mate's eyes widened at his story, so he continued. "It's pretty tight in there, though, especially when one of the occupants has wings, so I suppose it was understandable. If you want, I'll take you back down there to check on her..." 

Cassian trailed off, as a snort from Nesta turned into full-on laughter. 

"What?" 

Nesta howled once more, and he felt her amusement through their bond.  

"Nes, what?!" He was truly confused. 

Wiping her eyes, Nesta chuckled. "I wondered when they'd finally crack." 

Cassian shot her a bemused look. "Sorry?" 

Nesta returned his gaze, wearing her 'Do I really have to explain this to you like you're five years old?' face. 

"Let me get this straight," she said. "You walked into Elain and Azriel," she emphasised their names, "in a quiet, out of the way shed at the bottom of the townhouse garden, earlier than you were meant to meet her…" she trailed off, looking at him expectantly. 

"Yes, so?" Cassian replied. Shit. Wait. "Oh. OH!" 

Nesta huffed a laugh. "You with me now?" 

"Yes, yes I am." Cassian rubbed his face, grinning broadly. "Well good on them, I suppose. Who'd have thought?" 

Nes raised her eyebrows at him, disbelief writ large on her features. "Well, myself, for starters. They've been making eyes at each other since last year." 

Cassian could only stare at her; he'd wondered why his brother had stopped pining after Mor, and it appeared he finally had his answer. 

"Az never said a thing, the sneaky bastard. Though I don't suppose he would." 

"No," Nesta agreed. "Given Elain has a mate, I'm not surprised that they're trying to keep it quiet. What is the protocol for all that, anyway? I've never been told." 

Cassian hummed thoughtfully, feeling for Lucien, but he'd suspected for a while that the red headed male’s bond with Elain wouldn't work out. The two of them could hardly bear to be in a room together for two minutes. 

"Bonds aren't enforceable in the Night Court, don't worry. And Lucien is a good male. When they're all ready, I'm sure he'll be understanding. Though let's just keep their secret for them until then." 

Nesta only nodded, her eyes dancing. 

Cassian furrowed his brows. “What now?”

"The brooding Spymaster and the beautiful Seer, carrying out an illicit romance," she laughed. "It could be straight out of a Sellyn Drake novel." 

Cassian rolled his eyes and laughed again. "I knew he wasn't there for a gardening book!"

*

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging. 💜

Notes: This fic employed a Cassian who was both tired after a long day, and a bit too overcome with his severe hay fever to pay proper attention to what he was seeing. Cassian has also, canonically, struggled to realise that Azriel is likely well on his way to being over Mor, if not there already, while Nesta noted the charged energy that ran between Elain and Azriel at solstice (see ACOSF). Please don't be offended; it's just for fun, and in no way an attempt to say that Cassian is any sort of idiot. These are just extenuating circumstances.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

*dances in badly* FROSTYYYY! I'm finally regaining energy, which means finally regaining some kind of ideas for fics.

Of course, I'm going to request f!reader x Rex (was there ever a doubt? 😅😅) where it's possibly coming up to life day (my brain is desperate to skip autumn nejjejririejjwjwhw), or it's just cold and snowy, and they're both soing a scouting mission but get cut off from the main group, so have to find safety (cave, abandoned building, etc etc). But it's cold, so there's snuggling close together to stay warm.

Established relationship or this being a confession piece is up to you! I'm all for it being super soft and fluffy, but if you want to add a little small dash of rex having an arm or leg boo boo that gets a bacta patch on is up to you 💞💞💞💞💞💞

@eternal-transcience

Lost on Life Day [Captain Rex x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: While scouting an uncharted planet to patch up some outdated intel, you and Captain Rex end up taking shelter from a growing snow-storm when a minor avalanche separates you from the rest of Torrent Company. Fortunately, no one has died. Unfortunately, several troopers, Rex among them, have been injured, and it will take time before help arrives. Will you be able to endure and weather the storm long enough for help to arrive? It would be a terribly tragic thing to die on a holiday of all days, after all… Second Person POV, undescribed, unnamed Fem!Reader. Reader’s job is (unofficially) a navigational (and/or signal) officer; currently in training. Confessional fic with brief moments of peril, anxiety, as well as minor/mild whump and angst. Injury and vague mentions of blood and other medical supplies such as autoinjectors. Reader is given parts of Rex’s cold weather gear out of selflessness/love. [Same thing, really.] Speculative armor functions. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. Minor use of Star Wars and real-world swearing. Some use of Mando’a. Reader is referred to as “kid” a handful of times, all in an affectionate/apologetic sense. “Little miss” is used once, playfully/sarcastically. Takes place on a fictionalized planet.

Word count: 10,791

There was never a dull day when it came to working with the 501st Legion. 

Whether it owed to their unconventional tactics, or if it was simply just the way things worked in the Grand Army of the Republic, this particular deployment seemed to get saddled with some of the more interesting and dangerous missions with an above-average frequency.  

Perhaps a lot of that reasoning was rooted in the absolute bravery and unshakeable loyalty these men had not just to each other, but to the whole of the Republic. 

This blue-brushed unit was led by an exemplary captain who bore the name Rex, crowned by a helmet that had been emblazoned with a Mandalorian symbol of honor - the Jaig eyes. As a member of the crew aboard the Jedi flagship—the Resolute— you have been given the means to befriend the captain and his men by nature of the ship’s forced proximity. And though the exact act of battle-borne bravery that earned him the right to carry such an esteemed mark remains obscured by mystery, you know with far more certainty that Captain Rex has been fighting since the very beginning of the Clone Wars. 

When the planet of Geonosis became the war’s origin-point, he was among the first white-armored soldiers that had been deployed against Separatist forces. Rex has seen and led his men through a lot of excitement, both after and since the reorganization from a Battalion into the Legion they are today under Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker’s command. 

It was rather befitting that the designation for the Venator-class Star Destroyer worked not only for one of the many, positive qualities of the Jedi Order, but for the intergalactic transport of this particular deployment of soldiers as well. They were all hard-fighting, admirable and courageous men. 

Men that you greatly valued the friendship of; learning to be more comfortable in one another’s company when the war demands their attention, and even when it does not. 

You initially think nothing of it when early this morning, in the pre-dawn hours, Captain Rex steps into the starport bridge where you are working alongside Admiral Yularen and the rest of the crew. He carries his modified helmet at his left side, leaving his face visible and free. An expression of focused professionalism is softened with a warm, patient smile as he draws nearer, seeing you diligently complete this morning’s work. 

Recently, you had begun training in one of the Republic’s many programs to become a navigational officer. The captain encouraged you to ‘change course’ when he noticed that you were facing growing dissatisfaction in your current position, hoping it would inspire you to remain stationed here. 

It’s hard to resist reflexively returning that smile, or to remember the usual phrases of formality as you turn to address him. 

“Good morning, Captain.” Anticipating that he must have a message from General Skywalker or Commander Tano to give to Admiral Yularen, you offer to help him in case the matter is an urgent one after Rex echoes your greeting. “I’m afraid the admiral is a bit busy at the moment,” you say, speaking of the ship’s captain, “but I’d be happy to help you with whatever it is I can.” 

Chuckling politely, Rex first expresses his surprise to hear you sound so… formal. “Starting to sound just like a deck officer already. But it’s funny that you ask how you can help when that’s exactly what I came to see you about.” When you give him a puzzled expression, yet nod for him to continue, he adds, “I have… a really big favor I wanted to ask of you.” His voice, often so coherent when issuing even the most chilling or unpleasant orders, is full of uncertain halting. Hesitation. 

You assume that whatever he’s going to say, he understands he’s asking a lot of you. “Sure. What is it?” Making up the difference, there is no delay in seeking to determine what Rex’s big favor is. 

Gently tossing a nod in the direction of one of the nav-tables, your friend signals for you to follow him so the two of you will be more out of the way. Shifting the helmet off his hip and onto the edge of one of these consoles, Rex frees up both of his hands so that he can speak to you. This way, both you and himself can speak and behave less like a soldier and a member of the crew, and more like friends. Foregoing the formality of titles and the like without worry for the eavesdropping presence of higher-ranking associates. 

Trying to find the words to say, the captain takes a deep, quiet breath. It must be something serious on top of being a lot to ask. 

“We- I understand that you’re not yet a navigational officer—officially speaking—but I thought it would be best to find all the help I could get. You’re still training; but Commander Tano believes you show great promise. I think she was even trying to suggest she could sense it,” Rex carefully explains, making a nod to common abilities Jedi utilized of and through the Force with an uncharacteristically timid expression. 

“And, both from what I’ve heard as well as my trust in Commander Tano, I certainly believe her.” 

Giving it considerate thought, you allow yourself time to process. Then, nodding slowly, you ask what the mission is. 

“Okay… Well, that’s, uh, sweet of you and Commander Tano, and all, but… I guess what exactly do you need so much extra help for, Rex?”

“We’ve been asked to scout out a planet that it seems nobody can recognize, or name.”

It could prove to be a potentially dangerous mission, but it would—should—be far less dangerous than some of the other missions they’ve been assigned. The astrological body had been picked up by Republic scanners from one of the many fleets as it was passing by, and all of the data fields had returned with very sparse information. No known, recognizable name, peoples, or even local climate beyond an estimate this was an ice giant. They couldn’t even be certain there was even animal-life down there due to perpetual, shifting storms. 

The only thing anyone has been able to confirm of the planet is its size: 7,010.08 kilometers, a bit oddly specific… 

Speaking to you with the same amount of respect he would show any of his brothers, Captain Rex further explains, “I’d like you to join us as an extra set of eyes out there once we make it planetside. Situational awareness and communications will be crucial down there. I’m asking if you’ll join because you get along well with my men. They trust you. And I think we’ll need all the trust we can find.” General Skywalker and Commander Tano were busy with making preparations before all of you were due to exit hyperspace, but they had already provided the necessary permissions to Admiral Yularen and Captain Rex to temporarily add civilian crew under his command for the mission. At this point, it came down to your choice to join, or stay aboard the Resolute. 

“Well, uh…”

The reasoning seems sound, but you’re not wholly sure about jumping to accept just yet. A chance for real field experience? That would be the kind of thing that would look incredible on your training record. (Especially if it was with the 501st!) But you needed to make sure you had good-fitting gear before anything was made official. If you needed to scramble to borrow something, you’d want some extra time to take care of that.

“I just need to check that I have all the necessary equipment, first.” 

There are more than three rapid blinks in surprise. “You’ll-? You’re agreeing to join?” Rex asks, his voice brightening with hope. 

You can’t help a friendly chuckle before correcting him. 

“Well only if I either have or can borrow all the necessary gear. Won’t be any good to the team down there if I risk becoming half-frozen, now will I?” 

“Would you like some help?” Rex kindly offers. 

You graciously accept the captain’s offer, figuring it’s only fair. After all, you’re going to provide quite a lot of it once you’re on the planet’s surface, now aren’t you?

Once all of the appropriate gear has been collected, you and the rest of Torrent Company touch down on the unrecognized planet less than an hour later. 

Together, you’re set to embark on the lengthy process of surveillance and charting the findings. Accepting Captain Rex’s help in finding everything you needed pays off the instant your boots crunch down into the fresh, wind-driven snow. Great galaxy and all her stars… It’s well below freezing down here. The low temperatures prove a great concern to the well-seasoned pilots—General Skywalker among them—with the gravest reserved for the landing gear and engines. 

If it was necessary to make a hasty escape, they couldn’t very well do that when half of the most critical components were turned to ice. “Worse than I thought down here… Captain Rex - a word, please?” General Skywalker quickly asks to confer with Rex in order to shake out the last few details of his plan, who had been in the process of helping you properly fit the supply pack you were instructed to carry over the rest of the thick, cold-weather gear. 

Though he seems regretful to leave you, Rex wastes no time answering. Duty calls. “Of course, General.” He summons the 501st’s medic to take over for him. “Kix, mind helping our good friend here for me?”

“Consider it done, captain.” Kix responds. 

Taking over for his commanding officer, Kix finishes appropriately tightening the last shoulder strap. It needs to straddle that delicate knife’s-edge of ‘sturdy’ and ‘loose’; and who better than the man who you’ve heard has performed more than a few life-saving surgeries out in the battlefield if it’s not Captain Rex to finish what he’s started?

“How’s that feeling?” Kix asks after giving the other strap a final cinch. “Give it a wiggle for me, kid.” 

Kid: It was one of the Clones’ most common terms of affection when it comes to who they care about; shared both among themselves and those they had grown close to. 

Sure, it could be paired with a stinging insult on occasion, or used for a bit of mean-spirited teasing. But it had never been weaponized like that against you. “Kid” was used with less reservation and far more freely than the words the GAR had adopted into their speech from the language of Mando’a. When the moment called for more intimacy, more impact, these sons of Kamino called you ‘burc’ya’ - the Mandalorians’ word for friend. Your bonds with them were ‘burcyan’. The one applicable word they did not share with you was ‘vod’ika’ - though their reason for withholding it was understandable.

While half of its significance meant ‘close friend’, too often the Clones used it for the other half: sibling. 

For that reason, it was a precious word to them. And precious few things truly belonged to them. You would be “kid” if it meant they could have something to hold on to, just between brothers.

“Fits great. Thanks, Kix. Appreciate all your help.” 

Kix chuckles softly. “Wasn’t all me. But you’re welcome, kid. Excited to have you with us for this mission as one of our navigational officers.”

“Navigational officer in-training,” you’re somewhat firm to clarify. “It’s not official yet. I’m honored by Commander Tano’s level of trust in my training, and grateful that both she and General Skywalker signed off on the necessary data-work to give me permission to be here. But Captain Rex-”

“Thought it would be best to recruit all the people we can trust. I know.” Kix finishes on your behalf. “Sorry, kid; it’s not ideal to put together this plan without involving you first, but I’m afraid you’re the last one to find out about it.” 

Seeing as what’s done is done, all you can offer is half a shrug. “No, not ideal. But oh well. Honestly, if it had come from someone other than Captain Rex, I don’t know that I’d’ve agreed to do it.” It’s not like you didn’t have the choice to say “no” either. While he strongly suggested he wanted you to, Rex did ask you if you would agree to join when he spoke to you on the starport bridge. 

You were here by your own choice. It would be the responsibility of others to help make sure you would remain safe in the meantime. 

“Snips, I’m going to stay behind with a few troops and the pilots to make sure our ships remain operational. I want you to take command of the operation and assist Captain Rex with making sure Admiral Yularen’s future navigational officer makes it back to the Resolute in one piece.” General Skywalker, addressing his padawan, speaks loud enough to be heard by everyone over the subarctic winds lazily snaking through the landing zone. A rather efficient way of signaling to the troops they’ll be on the move soon, quite honestly. “You should take Artoo so he can help her boost the signal through the planetary storms.”

Commander Tano accepts the altered assignment. “Understood, Master.” The silver and blue-plated astromech demonstrates his excitement by rocking side to side on his two primary legs, chirping and warbling in a high, rapid pitch. “I’ll make sure Artooie doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

“And Lieutenant Jesse,” Skywalker adds, scanning the surrounding company for the trooper in question. “I have an assignment for you, too.” 

There’s some commotion near the back of the company before a clear, loud “Sir! On my way!” can be heard, the preceding rapid footfall announcing he’s hurrying forward to be properly addressed. 

“Very good,” General Skywalker replies once Jesse has moved in-sight of him, ���I’d like you to be our third point-of-contact in charge of her safety. Can I count on you to do that?”

Opposite to the Republic crest tattooed over the left part of his face, Jesse promises with a firm salute both him and Captain Rex can count on him for this assignment. A loyal soldier and patriot, not to mention one of the Legion’s oldest soldiers, the ARC trooper is someone in whom you have absolute trust. He’s fun-loving and possesses an adaptable sense of humor; but when push comes to shove Jesse’s among the first to shove back. Just like his captain. 

You’re in good hands. 

“That settles it then. Ahsoka, you and Torrent Company can set out whenever you’re ready.”

Officially assuming command, Commander Tano issues the necessary orders to button up the last of the landing and preparation procedures before anyone sets foot beyond the landing zone, where together you’ll begin heading up a ridge to the north-northeast, first thing. 

“Carry only what’s necessary. We’ll make a plan once we have an idea of what we’re looking at from the ridge, so we won’t be deploying any speederbikes until then, understood?” Several soldiers around you reply in the affirmative, while you’re a little more unsure about a few things. What was considered necessary? 

Everything you had seemed pretty necessary since it was supposed to help you communicate between Commander Tano’s team and General Skywalker, and the crew aboard the Resolute, if it was needed… Should you ask?

Maybe she could sense it, but Commander Tano was quick and sweet to assure you not to worry after asking a trooper to help with a particular task. “Here, Tiethis. Looks like they need you to do your thing.” He’s handed a rope and pointed in the direction of a couple of crates full of gear that will be left behind at the landing zone, where his brothers are struggling to keep it all in one place due to the persistent winds. “Hey,” the Togruta padawan greets you kindly once Tiethis trots off, “If it helps, you can lighten your pack by caching a few things between me, Captain Rex and Jesse, to start out with. I know this is your first field exercise and you must be nervous. But you’re gonna do great, I know it. The three of us will be here to help if you get stuck.”

You chance a light, disbelieving laugh. “Thanks; but I think you mean “when”, Commander Tano.” You’re training, bound to make mistakes. 

She counters your pessimism with optimism. “Well, if or when you do, the three of us will still be there to help.” The promising reminder that you’re not going to be left to struggle by yourself is a comforting one. 

No, you’re certainly not. Not under the captain’s watch. 

Rather than take the entire company up to the ridge in order to put together a comprehensive plan of action, a small scouting party is created to get the lay of the land first before the whole company embarks anywhere by speederbike. 

Marching up there by foot would be the easy part, seeing as that’s the first and only clear step to this plan. After that, it’s anyone’s guess: the Republic was unfortunately a little too vague on what exactly the 501st had been deployed here to look for. (And that was more than a little frustrating.) You would be joining them to perform a bit of land surveillance before plotting out any kind of path, or opening a com-line to General Skywalker to report visual findings. 

And you’ve found what—right now—looks like a barren wasteland. 

Below the ridge, the landscape is made up of wind, snow and ice. In the distance, tall, craggy mountain ranges jut out of the snowfields - ominous, gray dorsal fins cutting through an otherwise serene surface. 

It’s a start. But you’re not sure you’re going to find more than that without retrieving some equipment from your pack. Maybe these shapes in the mid-ground obscured by snow-flurries will come into sharper focus with the borrowed pair of specs. A higher-end datapad than the one you own is added to your belt as you’ll be needing that next for a written sitrep. 

“Don’t forget: explain what you see.” Captain Rex helpfully reminds you. “Once you get the scopes properly calibrated for snow-based environments, of course.” It’ll make it harder to see what’s out there otherwise. 

Right, right… How do you do that?”

“I’ll help you with that, little miss.” Jesse offers. He fiddles with them for some time before declaring, “Here! Try that.”

While you surveilled, Rex and Commander Tano were going to talk over the next steps. Cook up ideas of what the Republic might have wanted them to look for. One brave soul breaks the weighted, nervous hush as you make a minor adjustment to the newly calibrated scopes. “What do you think they call this iceball?” the unmarked trooper asks. In an act of boredom or restlessness, he kicks his boot through the fresh-fallen powder as he speaks to the thus-far nebulous idea of potential inhabitants. 

The 501st learned their lesson after Orto Plutonia and the Talz: never assume a planet is uninhabited.

Carefully looking out into the vast stretch of snowfields, you now see the shape in the mid-ground are tors. (That’s the name for a geographical feature of free-standing rock formations created by weathering and erosion.) You note they look a little taller than ordinary. Maybe too tall to be a recognizable structure like a hut or other architectural dwelling that would suggest civilization. And though it was a long shot, you find yourself disappointed that it wasn’t. There are no foot-tracks to be seen (that can be picked up by the scope), nor navigational markers - save those left by Republic forces behind you. 

The instinct in your gut tells you this planet seems truly uninhabited. “I don’t think anyone calls it anything…” you murmur more to yourself than anyone in particular. “So far, the only thing I see down in the snowfield are a few spread-out tors. No plants, animals or people.” 

Unless someone among you (who isn’t one of the Jedi) knows how to “talk” to whatever wildlife you find here, any name this planet may have once had will remain unknown until there is contact with native inhabitants. For now, the written report will have to include a few placeholders until you can come up with something better (or find someone who can give the company answers). 

Expedition ICEBALL Carried out on the planet WHOKNOWS Led by Commander Ashoka Tano of the Jedi Order, and Captain Rex [CT-7567] of the Grand Army of the Republic 

That’ll have to do. The scouting party shouldn’t keep the others waiting for too much longer. 

Rex calls in the first report to General Skywalker so he can show you how it’s done for next time. Skywalker promises to help the men get the swoops and speeders ready by the time those who went to scout return; from the landing zone you’ll be heading north to investigate a point of interest near one of the distant mountain ranges you picked out with your scopes. It’ll prove safer to travel that way. Just somewhat inconvenient when it comes to securing a very vocal astromech on an improvised cargo rack on the back of someone’s CK-6 swoop or BARC speeder while covering greater distances. 

Given the chance, you think R2D2 would try to race some of these shinnies to help them learn a little humility by leaving them in his dust. He’d also probably race the older soldiers just for the sake of fun. Little guy certainly has been keeping things entertaining and spirits high around here. 

It'd be criminal not to mention how Artoo has proved he’s an invaluable resource to the company on this mission. Like he has many times before. On one of the many stops the company has made to check the surrounding area, the blue and white astromech scuttles off on his own for a time before coming back, whistling and beeping up a storm. 

Bw-woop! Woop!

“Artoo? What’s going on, little guy?” 

It looked like he’d just gone over a small hill, what could have happened to get him so worked up? Being careful not to stumble through the ankle-high snow, you make your way over. You could be wrong, but he sounds like he’s trying to get your attention specifically. This was as good a time as any to brush up on your Binary. 

“You got something to show me?”

Scuttling around to nudge you from behind, Artoo urges you to crest this relatively non-descript hill with a surprising amount of eagerness, even for him. 

Woo-WOO! Wheeee!

It won’t take being fluent in Droidspeak to understand this blue and white unit from the R2-series sounds pretty damn pleased with himself about finding this. 

Gathered together in a shallow depression, there are maybe six dozen creatures of some kind. They’re small, and coated in thick, puffed wool. Antlered. This is the only wildlife you’ve seen on the surface thus-far. They look like they could be ruminants; when one bleats, the mouth reveals the grinding molar teeth found among herbivores. 

“Artoo… Go get Rex and the commander. They’re gonna wanna see this.” 

The whole damn company will want to see this. There’s life down here! 

Comms become absolutely necessary if you have any hope of being heard over these forceful gales of wind and snow out in the open like this. 

A voice comes in on the short-range channel. “Think there’s a farm somewhere?” The question largely receives a rippling of uncertain murmurs in reply, though there is one unmistakable complaint among it all. 

“Not this again…” 

You offer a laughing retort. “Just because there was a farm on Saleucami, doesn’t mean there’s a farm here, Jesse.” There’s another laugh when the ARC trooper looks over to you and performs a highly exaggerated shrug. 

Rex had asked you to stay and watch from a distance as he, Jesse, and several brave troopers took as many pictures as they were safely able upon the young Jedi’s request. The captain would never order his men to do anything he himself would not do. As the nav officer in-training, Rex was not fond of the idea of you being involved, though you had asked if you could help.

“There’s no guarantee. They could just be wild.” 

This earns you another shrug. Less exaggerated this time. “Can’t rule it out, though. Look how docile they are!” Jesse replies, referring again to the possibility of farms. 

Farms would be an incredible clue of civilization. It’s one of the most solid markers in planetary exploration - proof that someone is being provided for, more than likely nearby.  

“No,” you agree simply, “Can’t rule it out yet.” 

Jesse did have a point. These creatures do seem relatively docile; none have shown the least bit of fear towards any of the troopers snapping stills around them. Maybe that means there is a farmer not far from here, someone who’s trained or gradually desensitized them to complete strangers. 

But tame behavior and looking friendly—perhaps aside from the wide, branched horns—is not enough to guarantee that they are threatless and domesticated. These creatures, whatever they are, may genuinely be wild, potentially feral…

For that reason Kix stands just as watchfully beside you, using a medic’s trained and critical eye to give his brothers stern warnings to give these ruminants breathing room. 

“Zipp, if you wanna be a pilot, your eyes need to be sharper than that. It keeps stamping its left hoof because you’re getting too close.”

“Sorry!” the rookie yelps, stumbling back. “I wanted to get a better look at the dirt in its wool…”

Almost a hundred heads turn in the trooper’s direction upon hearing the four-letter word. 

Did Zipp just say he found dirt?  

Over the open channel, Rex can be heard asking his soldier to repeat that several times, looking to be sure he heard correctly. Cautiously pinching a small amount out of the animal’s wool confirms this is, in fact, soil of an unknown composition. Where had the dirt come from? The company had been calling the planet by the nickname “Iceball” for good reason; there was no bare ground to be found, only ice and deep snow drifts. 

“If our hooved friend here has dirt in its wool, then they must have come from someplace else…” Rex hypothesizes. “Maybe there’s more of them.”  

When he lowers his rangefinder to search the horizon of this winterscape, the impression he’s looking for the wrong thing comes to you rather suddenly. He should be looking for something else. 

Something lower than the horizon. 

“Captain Rex! What about tracks?!” you call out to him on the channel. “We can follow tracks or where they’ve pushed through the snow back to where they came from!”

Impressed by your suggestion, Rex gives you a deserving mark of his respect. 

Thrice, he knowingly taps the blue emblem of the jai’gaalar’s eyes adorning the top of his helmet. Like the ancient avian of Mandalore, Rex sees the big-picture stuff when it comes to this war against the Separatists. When it’s not literal, it’s in the abstract sense. Thinking. This is part of what makes a man like Rex a triple threat and why you admire the blue-brushed captain so much. 

For his brains. 

Before he summons Artoo, you are left to imagine if that special smile given to someone you care for is under Rex’s helmet when he surprises you with a compliment. The kind that’s fond, tender, and makes you feel warm inside. “I knew I requested the right person for this mission: we’d probably feel pretty lost without you here, kid… Come help us look for tracks before the wind covers them all, little guy!” Rex could just be saying that in order to be modest, but… something tells you he isn’t. His words sound like they are more than just genuine.  

Apart from potentially covering the tracks, the wind brings concern of growing chill. Weather sensors in the second-generation Cold Assault armor worn by the men searching around the divot for prints trill out multiple, impatient warnings that temperatures are taking a slow, steady plunge. Best guess is a forming storm spotted from the gunships in the planet’s northern pole prior to landing has matured enough to start creeping further south. 

If it fledged, then you’re all going to have to move quickly. 

Current exploratory protocol dictates that so long as the duration of time that soldiers stay in-field does not exceed more-than-reasonable thresholds, Torrent Company and the remainder of the 501st aboard the Resolute are permitted to make as many expeditions as necessary in order to find their answers. The insulated gear dramatically increased a trooper’s tolerance for such extreme weather. The second gen of the HT-77 gear was better, and had seen great improvements that was worth the price increase from the 4,000 credits of the first. 

But as the Clones had been told by their trainers, they couldn’t expect the ‘77 to work miracles.

If the weather becomes so severe, or the risk of injury to you or the soldiers becomes too great, then this exploration must be curtailed and everyone will be instructed to leave this iceball behind until it is safer. 

Artoo makes his second incredible discovery of the day just when others vocalize their fear: maybe it’s too late to find anything, and the company should head back. Locating the creatures’ trail coming down from the north, he urges everyone to get back to the swoops with a garbled staccato of chirps and half-whistles. At six-dozen in number, the animals collectively cut a deep furrow through the snow. It would potentially be wide enough to use it like a makeshift road.  

“Good find, Artooie! Let’s not waste any time!” Commander Tano instructs her men. 

Tano leading the way, every bike races down the animal-made path to a mountain range with an unusual crescent-like shape. 

There in the deep belly of the curve, a cave’s yawning mouth awaits the explorers. Evidence of the same cloven hoofprints belonging to the ruminants can be found in abundance, here. While it must be safe enough for them to live inside—judging by the odor alone from standing outside—there are still many potential dangers to be found in any given cave system. 

So you think it would be best to call in another sitrep before anyone sets foot inside. 

This would end up being the last sitrep you make; the signal is thready even with Artoo boosting it for you. 

“General Skywalker? This is the nav officer with Torrent Company.” 

“I read you; go ahead.” the Jedi Knight responds. 

“Your resourceful little astromech found some kind of creature out here. Large group of them. Some kind of small herbivore. We followed their tracks back to a cave. It’s in the middle of one of the north…west mountain ranges relative to your position at the landing sight. Just disembarked our speeders, sir.” 

There’s a contemplative hum. “So you haven’t explored it, then. But I’m guessing the company is getting ready to.”

Commander Tano and Captain Rex, who had just conducted a short deliberation, have reached a decision. Flashing a thumbs up, everyone is given the answer that they’ll be proceeding inside shortly once the bikes have been dealt with. 

“Affirmative, General.”

“Understood. Tell Commander Tano and the captain that I trust their judgement to keep everyone safe. Thank you for checking in.” 

You promise to honor this request and sign off before the signal gets lost completely. Now full of worry and uncertainty, you turn again to your friend and ask in a fraught tone what the plan to explore the cave is. If Rex and Commander Tano don’t have one, the hope is they’re working on one… You and many of the rookies who had been listening in would really feel better knowing there’s a plan to deal with something Wampa-like living in the cave system, at the very least. 

“What are we going to do, Rex?”

With a comforting hand on your shoulder, he says, “Everyone’s going to stick together. We’ll pool half of our rope supply to mark our route, to start with, and use it as a guideline.” Beginning with the rope from Commander Tano’s pack, Rex hands Jesse a few tools to start from the mouth of the cave. Given several pitons and a hammer, the rope will be secured to the cave’s walls or floor. 

A tube of concentrated colorant is also offered in the shade ‘GLARE RED’ - the GAR uses this stuff as a visual aid to mark important items. It behaves more like a paste than paint, and as the name kind of implies it shows up as a visual glare in most optics equipment. It works just as well with the naked eye; such a stark red is rather impossible to miss. 

“This will keep us from getting lost. And I’ll be right there the entire time.” Rex promises you. 

So long as one one’s blasters froze to the inside of their holsters, you should have nothing to worry about. 

Moving as one group, exploring the cave and its rootlike system of passageways is done one cautious step at a time. 

Somewhere after the thirtieth iteration of “Piton, rope, color.” carried out every fifteen feet you’ve ventured through the mountain, you began losing track of time. The direction you seemed to be facing. Now, you’ve lost complete sense of both. With each light source building off of another’s radius, much of the passageways you’ve walked through have been well-lit. That serves as a great comfort; the blooming sense of trepidation knocking your heart against your ribcage lessening the better you can see.

No matter what may be skulking around in the dark, other than Artoo bravely scouting ahead, Rex is never more than half a step away from you the entire time. 

Walking beside you with his hand on your shoulder once more, nowhere in the galaxy feels safer than this. 

Following R2D2, Commander Tano walks further ahead than the rest of the company. The yellow-green blade of her activated shoto lightsaber bathes the walls of the passageway in a slightly eerie light, something that makes the medic’s cryptic observation all the more disturbing. “What the- Commander Tano?” Kix calls in a voice hedged by discomfort, “Take a closer look at the sides of the passage walls. Doesn’t that seem a little… unnaturally formed? They look too smooth; almost like the tunnel is man-made.” The Jedi’s attention drawn, Kix demonstrates his finding voluntarily. Sweeping his hand along the wall, he locates very few spots that have a rougher texture than the rest of it. 

“Maybe it’s an old magma tunnel, or something?” someone suggests. 

Kix shakes his head, uncertain. “No. No, I don’t think so, vod...” He looks behind the expedition team down the passage they’ve already explored, murmuring. “I think the tunnel’s width is too uniform to be natural.”

Unable to confirm any explanation for the time being, the 501st agrees to continue on lest they begin to lose their nerve and folks start to get that ‘eopie in the headlights’ look about them. (Perhaps you, most of all.) First, though, everyone takes one calming, centering breath to negate the surging anxiety they feel. Steady heads and grounded nerves will provide the best protection against the unknown, the unseen, and the unexplained. Your trust in one another must be absolute, here. All should have faith in their brothers, their friends, to rise to the occasion and have their six in times of peril and need. 

There must be five more repetitions of “Piton, rope, color…” before Torrent comes upon a large, inner chamber close to the heart of the mountain. 

Here, soldiers find a few items of interest yet not quite of note. 

Shed antlers are strewn throughout. Many are small. Perhaps a younger buck’s de-antlering at the conclusion of the year’s mating season, or an unlucky yearling who did not see the end of the revolutionary cycle. Some are larger. These are brittle; potentially due to age, deficiency, or lack of preservation against the cold. 

Jesse nabs one set - small, still attached to a skull by the pedicles. There’s a smattering of material with a soft “mossy” appearance peeling from the calcified bone that makes several shinies groan uneasily. You can visualize the disgust under their helmets from the way it exudes in their voice. 

“What are you doing with that…?”

“Collecting something for the vode in Analysis.” the ARC trooper replies matter-of-factly. 

“I-Is that a good idea?”

Jesse shrugs. “Don’t see why not.” If he’s told to return or ditch them later, he will. 

“Where are you gonna carry it? That won’t fit in your pack.” 

Kix is requested for assistance. Once the medic has gotten a series of pictures of how the antlers connect to the skull, Jesse snaps the skeletal remains apart with a few swift motions. “Just the antlers should be enough.” he concludes decidedly. The sickening kra-chik! of each antler coming loose makes one rookie gag. 

Artoo warbles with concern, scuttling to the trooper as fast as he can when they double over. 

Woo-wooh?

“I’m okay, little guy. Eeugh… It just sounds like breaking plastoid.” 

Hooo…

Torrent continues to explore this chamber for a few minutes more. No stone has been left unturned before the company proceeds through a tunnel found in a recession of the southern wall. The behavior of this slightly narrower tunnel differs from those prior - you climb in an endless, upward spiral, altitude alarms chirping all the while. Just before the spiral ends, the sound of high wind can be heard before this passage connects with another open space you predict is just below the summit. 

Everyone finds themselves in one final, upper chamber with a pair of naturally formed “windows” in the mountain rock to explain where the sound comes from. These sizable exposure-points have allowed a significant amount of snow to accumulate within, making it colder than the rest of the cave system previously explored. 

And here, you find proof of what you’ve been looking for at long last. 

Carved into the chamber wall is a series of messages kept safe and sheltered against the relentless gales and freezing of the elements. All of them have been written entirely in Domabesh, curiously; this creates a buzz amongst the Clones with linguistics training as they set to work on transcribing these for the mission reports. 

You feel the palpable high in everyone’s spirits now that there is evidence of life somewhere on this planet. Life that’s been here for a long time! This script has existed for at least a thousand years. Likely more. It may have potentially less prevalence than Aurebesh throughout the galaxy, but it’s not quite so forgotten that making heads or tails of the lettering will be a fruitless task. 

The elation sours before long, however... A soldier by the name of Chatterbox postulates that these messages may very well be ones of woe when Captain Rex asks what the messages say. 

“I’m not positive if it’s an earlier form or off-shoot of Domabesh yet, sir, but… I don’t think we’re going to find anyone here.”

“What makes you say that, Chatter?”

“The messages are all warnings, Captain. This one is a kind of farewell.” 

Chatterbox shares what he’s pieced together of an initial transcript with the company, and hearts grow heavy with unease as he reads. 

We humble, surviving people of Dethellum, leave a short series of accounts so that all this planet may know this is no habitable world. We have sought other planets after the Sky’s Great Shaking dis-anchored our beloved home from its place in the galaxy and flung us out among foreign stars.  For a time our people lived by burrow and cave, but there were too few for our vast number when the Lasting Hibernation bore down on us. We lost many. In desperation we made great scores in the Most Sacred Bow in hopes our stars would show us more favor.  But it was not to be. We leave by star-boat. May the Great Weaving guide us to greener worlds. If you have found our parting message, we implore you do the same. None will be here to bury you.  This world is lost: do not allow Dethellum to take your life along with it. 

While nearly sick with dread, you cannot recall ever hearing of a planet by this name. Nor can anyone, perhaps other than Commander Tano. 

Recognizing something from her lessons at the Jedi Temple, the Togruta asks to borrow Chatter’s device and highlights a selection of words. “Could the ‘Great Shaking’ be the Legacy Run disaster…? That was, er, 7745 by the Coruscant Reckoning Calendar?” Commander Tano’s pause as she reads something is brief, but heavy. “For more than two centuries and thirty years… The Republic and Order assumed this planet was completely destroyed by the Run’s near-collision with another ship. There was so much debris ejected from hyperspace, so many anomalies. But it’s… still here.” Many troopers have questions about the bewilderment and awe in their commander’s voice, but they will have to wait.

“We should keep looking… See what the other inscriptions say.”

Every last one is full of despair. Laments that their most frost-resistance crops could no longer grow. Sorrow that the last “fourtusk” had been slain and eaten. Great grievings that become too distressing to read any longer. Dethellum had become another victim to the Emergences, a name given to those further disasters in the aftermath of the Legacy Run tearing itself to pieces when the ship’s age caught up with it. They had probably become one of many civilizations that were just… wiped out. 

Apart from Dethellum’s accounts of woes, Torrent does find more items left behind by its people that suggest a potential connection to the ancestral heritage of another member of the Order (one that General Skywalker would need to confirm), and acknowledgement of the Force and its wielders. 

Three stone slabs that have been arranged to make a triptych have been found and dug out of the snow. Each sport rudimentary depictions of people with long hair and bright, yellow eyes. Among these, figures in long, hooded clothing stand opposite one another, a series of thin rectangles used to convey crossed blades. 

One blade had been painted blue. The other, red. 

It seems the concept of the Jedi—and a… precursor to the Sith?—was familiar to them. 

“Do you think they found another planet like they hoped? Still live somewhere, out in the galaxy?” Jesse wonders aloud, gingerly tracing the grooves and lines in the stone. 

“Can’t say for certain. But I’m betting there’s a decent chance. Get a few more stills, and then we should be on our way.” Captain Rex advises, looking to the northern pole of this frozen astrological body from one of the mountain’s natural windows. “Storm seems to be growing in strength…” Rounding his shoulders, he symbolically shakes the sense, the worry, of danger creeping on the horizon off of himself. 

Right now he needs to be level-headed; sitting and fretting is something the company doesn’t have time to afford if his instinct is to be believed. The soldiers that are charged with securing the samples in their personal packs should be offered help first. Ahsoka expressed that it would be important that the utmost care should be used to insure any located artifacts made it back to the Resolute in as close to one piece as possible. Something Rex certainly agreed with. 

Once he’s finished with them, Rex moves to check in on you. You’re knelt in the snow, looking for a way to stash something in your bag for the return trip. Torrent’s been advised they’ll need to move fast, so everything that isn’t critical to navigation is best stowed away.

“Can I give you a hand with that?”

“I’d love that,” you answer with a grateful smile. “Packing gets trickier the second time around, somehow.” 

Rex shares a hearty chuckle with you. “That it does. And how are you holding up?”

“Good; just eager to get back to the Resolute.”

The snow gear was doing an excellent job of keeping you warm, but you could really go for something warm to eat or drink right about now. And a thick blanket of some kind to burrow under until Dethellum’s chill had been forgotten. And a hot water soak in your personal quarter’s refresher.

You’d decide on what to do first once you got back to the gunships. Right now, you need to be more focused on not tripping over something while following the way back through the mountain using the rope left behind earlier. Jesse and the other ARC troopers collect the rope as the company makes its way back outside, seeing no sense to leave it behind. 

“What if the Republic plans to make other trips to Dethellum and explore the same mountain we did? Wouldn’t it help them find that chamber near the top?” 

Your confusion is reasonable, in his opinion, but Jesse has his own rationale for undoing the rope and piton system. 

“It would! But having this rope would be a good idea in case of an emergency.” 

Whatever kind of emergency would necessitate the use of this much rope is not something you wish to think about, so you utter a short “Oh, okay…” sort of phrase and turn your focus on helping the company round up the bikes. They had been left not too far from the cave entrance outside, though some of the speeders that had not been equipped with landing skis had managed to drift a little ways off. 

Something that would have a massive domino effect on what was to come when the mountain began to thunder.

A distant crackle and rumble starts from the very peak. A terrible sense of dread comes over the captain—the hair on the back of his neck standing on end—as the sound carries downhill, intensifying. His armor’s early warning system bleats panickedly in his ears. Then whoops. Finally, wails. 

This great noise is not from the storm. It's from something started by the storm. 

And you’re all sitting mynocks down here. 

Barreling down the mountainside is a lethal wall of snow, rock and debris, pressing down on all of Torrent Company. 

But most importantly: you. 

Rex throws open the comm channel and wastes no time; there is precious little of it to make his most crucial set of orders on this mission.  

“Everyone, double-up on the bikes! It’s an avalanche – get out of the path!!” 

Plunging into panic, you throw yourself into the rider’s saddle of the nearest swoop and punch the throttle forward. Running on base instincts, you’re fleeing southeast rather than following the flash-training on natural disasters. Escaping an avalanche means traveling in a direct, sideways route whenever possible if you’re not already caught up in one. 

Fortunately Rex is not far behind on his own speeder. He’s able to catch up with you quickly, signalling for you to follow. 

Unbeknownst to you, Captain Rex is the only one who followed after you in the commotion. 

When disaster strikes, there’s no one there to help you.

Everything happened so fast. 

Whether taken by surprise or dangerously distracted, two shouts of great alarm are made when Rex is suddenly launched forward, thrown from the speeder above the controls. 

He lands a short distance ahead, and some part of his armor makes that sickening KAR-CHIK! on impact. 

“REX!”

Punching the accelerator, your heart yo-yos between your throat and knees as you race for him. The two of you are still inside the avalanche's path, within its outer skirts, so you fervently pray to any galactic deity out there that he might be alive. To the Force itself. 

Crumpled but stirring in the snow, you dig Rex out and lift him into the saddle of your speeder at record speed. Owing to hysterical strength, you escape the snow-slide’s torrential course in the nick of time as you ride ahead in search of shelter. 

Reaching the eastern end of the ‘Sacred Bow’ mountain range, you locate a small cave in the foothills. After disembarking and finding nothing inside, you take the time you didn’t have before to carefully ease Rex off the speeder and keep him upright as you help him inside. With the winds blowing their hardest since your arrival and the fear of a second or even third avalanche, this is going to be your best bet for shelter. 

The pain that comes with such dramatic, repeated exertions of energy begins settling in as you carefully prop the wounded cobalt captain against a part of the wall deeper in. You’ll have to push through it for now. Rex needs you more. 

You hope to coax a few words out of him beyond pained groans. “Rex? Oh Force… Please talk to me. Just let me know you’re not dead, or something.” Momentarily stripped of their gloves, your hands carefully feel up his armor for fracturing or other damage to the plastoid. Panic stings through you when nothing is found on the first pass and Rex remains too still for your liking. “Please, Rex - I don’t know if you’re hurt, or-!”

“Been in… w-worse shape…” he bites out at last. It takes great effort to form every word, he’ll have to be forgiven for the lack of enunciation and the heavy slurring of his voice. “Are… You… okay?”

You’re relieved and stunned (and in pain) all at once. No. No, you’re really not okay, truthfully. Heart become a wild dove, you’re struggling to remain calm in a critical situation where you cannot afford to lose composure. You try to brush it off and insist to him that you need to make sure he is okay before you call Torrent Company for help, but Rex won’t let it go. “Are you okay?” he repeats, speaking with more force this time. 

You’ve read enough holo-novels and mags to recognize what’s happening here: Rex is more concerned about you than himself. If you tell him that you’re fine—or at least in better shape than him—he’ll stop resisting your efforts to look over him. Rex’ll allow himself to drop his vigilance, his worrying and protective nature, and relinquish himself to your care. 

You suck in a shaky breath. “I’m cold, and scared, and worried about the others. But I’m mostly okay... S-somehow.” Until you make contact with the company, there’s no telling how many troopers have been hurt. Or worse. Musculature injuries will be chump change compared to the loss of Rex’s men. 

“Good…” comes the soft, relieved sigh. “Good.”

“We should try to reach the others once I take care of your injuries,” you say. Carefully, you resume patting down his armor for damage, even carefully removing his helmet since you’re sheltered from the wind’s reach. This is the first time his helmet has been removed since boarding the gunships and touching down on Dethellum. A moment that becomes so overwhelming by how much quiet pain you find in that warm, deep tan of his handsome face. 

You incorporate these “tells” into your assessment, repeatedly asking “How badly does it hurt?” as you carefully prod along. 

Thick brows buckle and bunch together when you’ve brushed over developing bruises. A sharp wince as each arm is examined. Whiskey-dark eyes flaring in alarm before you determine the large patch of red staining his thigh armor comes from a punctured tube of GLARE, not a nicked artery. The short, labored breath when you find an injury on his upper back that he couldn’t tell was there. 

Not without you removing the back section of his armor, lifting part of his thermal bodysuit away, and pressing down on it with a glob of bacta and a glue-stat that you’ve pulled from the medkit in your supply-pack. 

“You really don’t feel that?”

“No, I don’t,” Rex admits in another pant, “probably from the adrenaline.” Or from the throw. Or how he landed. Or the cold. There were probably a dozen rational explanations for why he couldn’t. But those mattered less to him than making sure you had enough material to take care of yourself, too. 

Having lost his own pack, likely when he was thrown from the speeder, Rex refuses to take the singular dose of painkiller in your autoinjector. 

“No, cyare… Keep it for yourself. It’s your medicine.” 

“W-what? Why?” 

You’re not on Drongar; this isn’t a rare medicine like bota. Rex needs this now. The muscular pain you feel is growing more unpleasant, but you can wait. Typically his altruistic nature was downright admiral; hell, even attractive. Right now it only creates a surprising amount of guilt. Rex got hurt because of you. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I panicked and now you’re hurt, and now I-” You have to make this right. You have to put him at ease, and then find a way to get in touch with the others. There’s so much that has to be done to ease this guilt and give the two of you the best, fighting chance at survival. “I made such a mess…”

When he takes your hand, you know the captain is going to kindly—nobly—try to shoulder the blame instead. 

Rex has a little more than that in mind, however. 

“No, kid… I’m sorry I got you into this mess in the first place. I’m the one who asked you to join the ground crew. The one who made the call not to send you back to the Venator before the storm started getting worse… You shouldn’t be here. I care about you, and I put you in harm’s way.” 

“What are you talking like that for? We’ve been friends a long time; of course I know you care about me.” 

He shakes his head gently. That isn’t what he means.

“If you don’t already, you should know I mean I care about you in another sense…”

Oh no: he didn’t get hurt because of you. Rex got hurt for you. “I-I’m going to spoil the moment by asking if you’re freezing to death on me, talking like this, aren’t I?” Quickly easing him forward, you return the back plating and wrap him in the emergency blanket for good measure. A short dig through your pack finds an extra knitwear cap smooshed down at the bottom. 

It’s pulled over the naturally blond, close-shaven curls of his hair before Rex can get another word in. “S’okay, cyar’ika…” he murmurs comfortingly. A thick-gloved hand reaches just high enough to cup your cold-stung face, his thumb brushing over the apple in your cheek. “You couldn’t possibly spoil anything… And I’m not going anywhere.” Rex promises tenderly. 

Not when he has the General and the Republic to fight for. His brothers. 

You. 

You'll find a way to make it out of this together. He's sure of it. 

It'll just take a little hope that someone is there to answer the emergency transponder once the device has been activated. 

Bundled together under the emergency blanket, you and Rex have never been more grateful, or happy, than you are now to hear so many voices at once when the signal goes through. 

 Rookies and experienced soldiers alike speak at speeds that would put hyperspace to shame. 

“It’sthecaptainonheremergencybeacon! They’rebothalivethanktheForce!” 

Kix laughs apologetically, trying to move further away from the triumphant ruckus, and not for the first time. “Sorry, Captain! Jesse’s having a hell of a time settling them down. We’re just relieved to hear from you. You two were the last we needed to hear from after the snow slide!”

“The last?” Rex asks in worry. “Did we lose anyone?”

“No! I’m relieved to report we didn’t lose anyone, sir - everyone’s alive!” That news is more miraculous than a miracle. (Thank the stars. Thank the Force!) Knowing it’s nothing a long dip in the bacta tanks can’t fix for the brothers caught by the flow kept the medic’s spirits high while they worked with Skywalker’s astromech through the storm. Every available trooper was determined to locate the final two members of the company. And now they knew you were okay. “How’s the kid holding up?”

“I’m in better shape than the captain, Kix,” you reply, adding that it’s great to hear from him. “He’s injured, and shaking more than a nervous tooka; this sweet di’kut insisted on sharing a few parts of his armor to keep me warm. Scared me half to death because I thought it was paradoxical undressing at first.”

“How injured?”

An uneasy chuckle bubbles up out of you. “Can’t say for certain. I took care of what I could with what I have.” Better than nothing. You’re training to be a nav officer, not a medic. Basic and portions of emergency aid is all you’d be capable of without Kix on the comlink to walk you through a far more dire situation. “Should I check again for something I may have missed?”

Kix admires your willingness, but encourages you to holster it for the time being. “Wait on that for now. Focus on keeping sheltered, okay? Adjust the warming function so we have a better chance of finding you two nice and toasty.” He waits patiently for confirmation the advanced thermo-regulator sensors are sending more power to the heat-coils carefully strung through the plastoid armor split between the two of you. “Really couldn’t convince him to take turns?”

“He told me “Not a chance, cyar’ika”... So I compromised.”

It’s not difficult to imagine the smiles from his brothers when you hear Jesse join Kix on the comm. 

“How sweet of you, captain!”

“Jesse…”

Ignoring the warning, the ARC trooper assures you they’ll find you before long. “We’ll get to you as fast as we can, kid. Just hang tight. Keep your beacon on.” 

“Safely. Don’t forget safely, please.”

“Heh. You got it, ma’am. Jesse and Kix out.” 

Now came the impatient agony of settling in to wait for rescue. Not knowing how long it would be before seeing the faces of friends and brothers. Or how long you would need to keep each other calm, warm, and safe. But at least it could start with setting aside the transponder and moving closer together. Once adjusted, you and Rex each pull your ends of the first aid blanket tighter around yourselves. Locking in whatever warmth you can now will nudge the odds in your favor. 

You’ll be able to wait out until nightfall, if you have to. 

Rex feels there’s more he has to tell you before there’s any planning for that, first. More he should’ve said when you had cleaned and bandaged up his final injuries of blood earlier. Speaking in a sorrowful tone that threatens to cleave your heart in two, he again apologizes for getting you into this mess. 

“I’m so sorry it all happened like this, ner burc’ya…” He never meant for you to come in harm’s way like this. Never. Never in a million lightyears. Nor did he want to confess to you like this. Confessing something so important—so heartfelt and personal—in a horrible or dangerous situation was a scenario he had always hoped to avoid. “On today of all days, no less.”

“I don’t follow,” you confess softly. “What’s so special about today, Rex?”

“It’s Life Day.” 

You stifle a gasp of surprise. Having been so preoccupied with your work aboard the Resolute and the training to become a proper navigational officer, you had lost track of the holidays and didn’t even notice. It takes a little clever reflection to add truthful sentiment to your apologetic explanation when Rex, curious, asks why. 

“When every day I get to spend with you feels like Life Day, it’s hard to notice when the real deal comes around, Rex.”

With or without his brothers being included, it’s easy to lose track of time in his company. Hard to miss the way he makes you feel. Or ignore how much you care for him. About him. The way he helped you out of a few back scrapes when the Venator was under Separatist attack thrice in one standard week had just been the beginning. Now, you… 

You love him, undeniably. 

It’s for his brains, his brawn, and even his beauty, too. It’s for the Triple-B-Threat and so many other, innumerable reasons. Ones you would prefer not to share in such harsh conditions. 

In the light of your own confession, Rex has another he feels would be appropriate to share. 

“Well in that case… I got you a gift. I’d like to give it to you when we make it back.” When you ask if he really did, Rex answers with an unbelievably tender nod. “Can I tell you what it is, cyare?”

It may be a while before Jesse, Kix, and the others in Torrent find your beacon; trying to keep one another talking in the meantime would be the smartest idea. Not just for morale, but to ensure the other was fairly cognizant. 

So you agree. “Mhm.”

“It’s a book. Chatterbox got into book-binding recently… Asked him if he wouldn’t mind helping me make something special for you.” 

“Awh, Rex… You made me a book?” 

His head bobs beside you, the movement small. “Finished it last night. Haven’t wrapped it yet.” 

Putting together a hand-made book just for you is such a thoughtful gesture that you could practically swoon. “Kark the wrapping paper - I’d love it even if you gave it to me in a pillowcase!” you declare. You can feel Rex starting to chuckle before he quickly regrets it, spurring a new swell of pain. 

“Oh no,” he says with a decided shake of his head, “you don’t want one of our pillowcases… Deserve far better than that. More than a book, even.”

“Rex-”

“Mesh’la… You deserve the whole galaxy. And someone who has the power to give it to you.”

This is no time for humility. You panicked, and your friend put his damn life on the line to keep you safe. Not because you’re one of his brothers. Or because you’re part of the company today. But because he loves you. 

“I don’t want the whole galaxy, Rex.” Pulling him closer, cold-trembling lips crown his forehead with a row of kisses before finally locking his lips with his own. “I’d rather have you.” Such a tender declaration would ordinarily embolden the injured man now in your arms, but collective pains and freezing temperatures keep each of you from doing something a little more reckless. Maybe even sensual and passionate. 

So he finally agrees to take the painkiller when you offer it again from your medkit. The combination of the puh-chunk! and hissed release has never sounded so good. Immediate relief ebbs over him when the pharmaceutical enters his system, drawing a gentle sigh out as the tension fades away. 

“Practically a natural.” Maybe you should think about helping Kix, if you ever grow tired of being a nav officer. 

You rebuke him with a gentle laugh. “Hush. It’s so simple a B1 could do it.” That may be giving them too much credit. It makes Rex smile, at least. 

A welcome disturbance to the comfortable quiet fallen over you, the emergency beacon begins to ping in a steady rhythm. Someone has a lock on the signal and opened the one-way channel to communicate with you. 

“Captain Rex, this is General Skywalker. We have a lock on your beacon and we’re approaching you now. Heard that you had a little more excitement than the others from Artoo. How’s our nav officer doing; is she okay?” 

Hah. Figures there’d be a few details lost or omitted in just a few rounds of Holo-call. 

Spirits high, Rex smiles as he picks up the transponder, “Good to hear your voice, General. It’s a helluva Life Day miracle that she’s largely unharmed! I took the worst of it; but I should live to fight another day.”

“It’s a Life Day miracle that you’re both still with us, Captain. We’ll have you picked up and taken back to the Resolute in no time.” the Jedi promises. “Skywalker out.”

It was hard to argue with that. A shame you’d be leaving before determining whether or not Dethellum possessed any sort of atmospheric light phenomenon like many other polar worlds, but…

What better Life Day gift could there be than to make it out alive of a perilous set of circumstances with the people you loved and cared for most?

You may not believe me, but this is the abridged version of LoLD! I'm an over-explainer + writer by nature, I'm afraid... But I hope you all enjoyed this fic! A huge thank you to Kim for making a request and becoming a part of my 200 follower milestone celebration with everyone's favorite cobalt captain. 🩷

Taglist: @callsign-denmark @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit @dreamie411 @msmeredithrose + @returnofthepineapple @lonely-day3636

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