#rogue trader giving thanks week

[holylustration]

Favorite is unfair - there's so much gorgeous art to go around!

In honor of *you* Finn, one piece of art that I really loved was @sanzosin's take on Lilith! She looks so effortless cool and chic.

Rogue Trader Giving Thanks-Week

It is Thanksgiving week in Ameraland. In tandem with @holylustration 's Dopamine Week, I would like to propose a Giving Thanks week 💖

Send, asks anon or not, telling your fellow rogue traders how much you appreciate what they bring to the space!

and

Reblog this post with a shout-out to your favorite piece of Rouge Trader art. Let's daisy chain all the amazing things the Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader space has created!

[redbatchedcumbermayned]

Dopamine Week - Thanksgiving edition #4

This dopamine week, I thought about doing something completely different—giving thanks to the amazing people, writers, artists, and all-around amazing folks I met through the Rogue Trader fandom.

Today, I give thanks to another absolute sweetheart and a great writer, @pycnolite.

Did you know one of her short stories was selected as a finalist for the Warhammer 40k cold open competition? Now you do!

Not only is she massively talented, but she always has an encouraging word for her fellow writers and artists in Heinclub. Without her, Heinclub wouldn't be the same.

I treasure her insights as my sensitivity reader and stand-in beta, and I can't thank her enough for taking time out of her busy schedule to review my long chapters.

I hope the winds bring you to Europe one day, and I can't wait to beta your killer post-game fic for Amber x Heinrix.

[pheedraws]

This week has been hellish irl but I am so very thankful for each and every one of you who make the RT community the wonderful place it is ✨

To be around so many incredible artists and writers has been nothing short of inspiring this year, and has helped drag me out of my own creative block. Thank you so much for all of your kind words on my art and my WIPs-- please know I read all of your tags and appreciate every single one of them, and knowing that people like not only my art but also Livea too means the world to me 💗

And lastly, thank you to one Interrogator Heinrix van Calox of the Imperial Inquisition's esteemed Ordo Xenos for comandeering my last remaining brain cell this year, couldn't have done it without you, babe x

[pycnolite]

✨ RT Giving Thanks Week! ✨ Thank you for sharing such beautiful writing with us all! I have loved reading about Amber & Heinrix, and working my way through An Ember the Colour of Amber has been such a treat. Thank you also for reaching out way back when-- I wouldn't have discovered such a vibrant, creative community without you! 

Oh thank you!! It's been an absolute pleasure writing this series for the past (almost!) year, and knowing people are reading and enjoying my writing makes all the long nights worth it. xD And with the delay of the DLC there'll be at least another year to come, before I truly knuckle down for This Dark Hour! (As I resolved to write one-shots for as long as Owlcat were releasing DLC for Rogue Trader, and even if they only release one DLC next year I'm still writing for the whole year gosh darn it.)

I have loved all your rogue trader and warhammer art too! Your smiling Heinrix lives rent free in my head, and your Gadriel art is just *beautiful*. Absolutely adore it! And I'm so glad I reached out! Heinclub is a wonderful little community that I'm happy to be part of and help build. <3

[holylustration]

Dopamine Week #4: Fic Recommendation

My theme for Dopamine Week is "WIPs." And on that front, I have two WIPs in mind: one that I am currently caught up on and another that I haven't gotten to fully sink my teeth into yet.

Recommendation #1: Edge of Daybreak Unbroken by @themagnificentmags

So, I think I began reading Edge of Daybreak Unbroken during the very first Dopamine Week, so I'm glad to be able to give it a recommendation and bring it full circle!

Here's why Edge of Daybreak Unbroken is worth your time:

The premise is Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader, New Game Plus. And I love that. I find it has that meta quality narrative where I, as the reader, can empathize with the main character when she sees the outcome of a choice she never took.

Despite it being a game "retelling," it isn't a one-for-one copy and paste of the game's script. And even the events that we see happening through Eltura's eyes aren't always a match for what we see in the game, as she might just nuke the planet from orbit rather than deal with the obvious and problematic trap that lurks on its surface.

The prose is a beautiful balance of matter-of-fact, dry humor, and evocative description. Mags gets you the necessary information to understand what's going on in a very unfussy, reader-friendly way, and then hits you upside the head with a bat as she describes what its like to wiggle teeth loose from their sockets with a tongue and subsequently choke on them.

You really can't help but cheer for Eltura. She comes back to relive all her horrors because she wants Heinrix to stay with her this time (and who WOULDN'T want that?), only she slips and falls into Iconoclasm along the way. Also, I put her in the category of fashionable Rogue Traders because of her coat. She is criminally underrepresented in Rogue Trader art.

Mags is not just a delightful person, but also meticulous. She really wants to think through the lore and the canon implications of the story. So, you can be sure that Edge of Daybreak Unbroken is being written in a way that is thoughtful and deliberate.

Recommendation #2: Omnissiah Forgive Me by @jaal-ama-daravv

Having not gotten very far yet into Omnissiah Forgive Me, let me give you the reasons why I've chosen to catch up on the fic this week:

Pasqal is one of the hardest characters for me to write; his speech pattern and motivations generally elude me. And Jaal's got seven chapters of him? SEVEN chapters? Emperor above, grant me blessed cognition so that I may better write him!

Sometimes, I just need a little break from Marazhai or Heinrix, so why not sample something that isn't Nocturne or Calligos? :D

I've had the pleasure of hearing Jaal narrate excerpts during our live readings, and she puts so much raw emotion into each and every word. It is electrifying. I cannot WAIT to see how that plays out on the page.

Damn, if Kassard's description doesn't come off as an absolute and utter badass. Tall, strong, scarred woman? Not afraid of her emotion? Heck yes.

A shout goes out to Jaal herself for her dedication not just to the story, but also the Rogue Trader community. Whether she's a mod or organizing the gift exchanges, she's somewhere being a positive contributor! And she does all of that on top of one of the hardest real life jobs that I can imagine, so she deserves double the praise!

Whether you're reading one (or both) of the fics above, or you're starting on something else, thanks for joining us this week!

[undyingembers]

OC Kiss Week - Victoire & Siavash

An OC Kiss Week entry featuring my Rogue Trader Victoire and @dujour13's Siavash. Thank you for letting me do this to him. This was fun.

There are some content tags for this one. Warhammer 40K is very grimdark, and Victoire is...not a nice person. I'm grateful for Dujour for letting me do this to her charcter.

cw: torture mention; shooting mention

Even hours after she put down the little insurrection on Dargonus, Victoire still smelled of blood and gunpowder. Her principal colony was used to a little unrest now and then—people wanting free time, increased pay, and, Emperor forbid, limited working hours. This time was different. This time, the peasants didn’t simply ask for more bread and fewer lashes. There was talk of wanting to create beauty and art and fulfilment in doing what they enjoyed instead of serving the Imperium. Workers shirked their duties to go dance and feast in the hills. Their bad behavior didn’t abate no matter how many lashes they received. Eventually, even the foreman and enforcers put down their whips to go join in the discussions and festivities, encouraged to see the people they oversaw as fellow workers and people. The governor of Dargonus couldn’t keep it under control, so the Rogue Trader had to fly all the way to Mundus Valancius system to deal with it personally.

Victoire put an end to that brutally. She gathered all her armies to gun down the celebrations, had the Drusian priests to deliver sermons on austerity and devotion, and punished everyone who stood in her way.

They were able to put an end to all of this at last. The very last of the agitators held a large bonfire and feast right outside the capital. They even had the nerve to send Victoire an invitation to “see for herself what it was like”. Victoire responded by personally leading a squadron to gun everyone down.

Now, Victoire was in a shuttlecraft with the sole survivor of that massacre. Victoire had expected the chief agitator to be some grand revolutionary inspiring the rabble with speeches and heroics. However, from her reports, it seems that it had happened almost by accident. Some charming stranger had come into one of the bars and chatted and greeted everyone as if he were a friend, playing his music, imagining a world where the patrons there drank for enjoyment instead of getting through the hardship and monotony of the day.  

What she saw now was a broken bird in a cage. The man’s amber-touched yellow hair fell limply around his sallow cheeks. His hazel eyes stared blankly ahead of him. According to Victoire’s officers, he was already like that when they found him, which was partly why Victoire had decided to forgo the usual torture.

Victoire had not meant for this man to survive. It was a miracle that he had. Now everyone he led was dead. She could only imagine how that felt.

“No one was rebelling against you,” the man said in a hoarse broken voice. “We were just getting together. Raising each other up. Enjoying life.”

Victoire gripped this poor fool by the chin and forced him to meet her gaze.

“You should never have crossed me,” said Victoire. Her captive did not resist as she leaned over and planted her red lips on his forehead.

“Things don’t have to be like this,” he said. Odd, even in this broken state, he’s still spouting this nonsense. It was almost as if it were his nature. “Even you don’t have to live in such a miserable world.”

Victoire let go and stepped away before his words could unsettle her even more.

The shuttle dropped them off in a grassy area of the planet Dargonus. The place was riddled with large trees, boulders, and the ruins probably left behind by some xenos that had settled on the planet long before mankind came in. It was a good location to give her prisoner a fighting chance.

The guards dragged him out and uncuffed his wrists. The poor man looked around confusedly.

Victoire cocked her sniper rifle. “I’ll give you an hour’s head start,” she said before taking off in the shuttle again.

[zenatness]

I was a fool.

"Rogue trader, it's unseemly to ally yourself with a thief and a smuggler," Abelard said.

"I was a crime lord up until last week," I wanted to reply, but the game wouldn't let me.

"It's unbecoming for someone of your status." Crime lord. "It sullies the name of the dynasty." Crime lord.

There are people in the ass end of nowhere of the galaxy, aka the Koronus expanse, that have heard of me and my exploits as a crime lord. Dragging Jae along makes sense, Abelard.

Well. I've learned my lesson.

"What's a little romance between friends while I wait for Marazhai to join the party?" I thought. "I'll just ask everyone on the bridge what kind of a gift Jae would want," I thought. "Nothing bad can come out of that," I thought.

Well, I would like to give credit to Heinrix for just having joined us and the first thing this weird rogue trader asks him is how to woo his companion. And for giving one of the most reasonable answers, while simultaneously giving away the reasoning behind giving me that translator-thingy. Anyway, I gave her a small colony and was rewarded with a boost to my profit. Fantastic!

Then I had to tell her off for trying to use our relationship to extort my subjects. Well, that was annoying, but now I'm sure all of that is behind us.

I have a little talk with Yrliet and assure her that I'll talk to my people about not coming on to her because we are apparently revolting. Having had a completely different conversation last time I'm unsure if I need to talk to Vigdis about this. So I do. And something's up.

Jae activated the vox in my bedroom while we were going at it, letting the whole ship hear what we were up to. With the exception of deck 18-est due to a local vox-malfunction, yes, thank you helmsman Ravnor.

Everyone's a comedian all of a sudden.

Jae is so lucky that this wasn't my noble playthrough.

[iamaweretoad]

The l-word! We talked about this a bit, but I feel it needs a more in-depth analisys. I believe you said Mago is a demi-aro (I didn't dream this one up, did I? Sorry if I did! :D) when is the time he would feel comfortable hearing this from Heinrix? And when would he himself be sure enough to admit to having deeper feelings? Both to himself and Heinrix? ^^

Also, do you think that, after the game is over, there comes a time when Mago's criminal background comes back to haunt him in any way? Or is it a done deal, nobody would ever dare to come after him now that he holds the title of Rogue Trader?

Thank you! 😄💜 Took me a little while to untangle my thoughts on this, so apologies for taking so long!

I think, in some ways, it really helped that they were both so thoroughly convinced that neither of them had a future. So there was never any point or pressure to define what was going on between them. It gives them the space to figure things out at their own pace.

I think for Mago (he is demi-aro, you did not dream that up :D), the line between platonic and romantic love is blurred and there is a fair bit of overlap at the edges. I think by the time he found Heinrix in Commorragh, he understood that he loved him, but felt no need to like, demarcate the boundaries of that feeling. It was more of a: 'I think I love this person and I'll figure out what that means as I go'.

When it comes to them admitting it to each other... The thing is, from Mago's perspective, they had been doing that for weeks/months. All those little moments of kindness/affection/vulnerability/etc. I don't think it ever occurred to him that an explicit verbal declaration was like, a Thing? I think during the ice scene he understands, in the moment, that saying it out loud with words is a significant thing for Heinrix, but it isn't telling him anything he didn't already know. Which is why i love the mildly exasperated "i love you too now let me call the healers" dialogue option XD.

The confession that Heinrix is leaving the Inquisition, that he's *staying*, though... THAT hits Mago like a ton of bricks. Something about knowing they have no future, but wanting to hold onto it anyway, even if it hurts..... Anyways, I'm gonna stop before i start quoting Night In The Woods, but you get the idea XD.

----

And his criminal background! He wasn't really a big enough player to have enemies powerful enough to make trouble for him as a Rogue Trader. And he didn't cause enough damage to Imperial interests that it would really be worth it for the authorities to dredge that up either, as long as he sticks to the Expanse.

But his criminal and common background does still come back to haunt him in that the nobility in the Expanse never accept him. These are people who live for several hundred years, have their own private intelligence networks, and nothing to do but dig up dirt on each other, so by the time of the magnae accessio, they all know that he's a former criminal and a commoner and they don't let him forget it.

And I don't think the rumors Kunrad started every really die. Every so often the whispers start circulating again, that he's not really a Von Valancius, that he murdered Theodora and took the warrant by force, etc. Often it's just dangerous gossip, but occasionally it escalates to active sabotage or assassination attempts.

[marcusmettalus]

Where Land And Myth Tread (Part One).

It has been some weeks now since the convoy left Karseille, its compliment of dignitaries, serfs, cargo and tourists keeping themselves occupied within the confines of the halls and vaulted chambers. This journey was no different from any other that Lady Ostia Haldus had taken with the Imperial Guard, Rogue Traders and Astartes,, were it not for the destination being presented.

Outside Imperial controlled space.

Ostia rested her chin wearily on her arm, looking out into the whirling twisted yet vibrant Immaterium through the wide diaglass porthole, her mind going through the events of the last year. The numerous conflicts with the Iron Warriors, the growing relationship with R'Tan, the revelation that her Sister Lucelle was not only alive but was now the soul of WARDEN, and had been protecting her all this time. Loss of allies,, friends,,

Ostia rubbed her eyes with her free palm, grumbling at why her mind decided to retrace her steps of late, like it was trying to find a singular point that led her to this moment and always coming up empty. "I need some recaff,," muttering with a scowl, her metallic prosthetic clicking and ticking when they swing down to pick herself up from the window sill.

Her guest chambers aboard this cruiser was,, soft. It smacked of low imperial nobility with its tapestries and ornate rugs, and for some cursed reason a four post bed with more textiles hung from its posts. Why could these people not just given her a more rank-n-file bunk room with a cot and called it a day? Ostia sighs as she tries not to aggravate herself further, her metal limbs carrying her out of the chambers and out into the hall, mindful at least not to rip the fine woven rug on the way.

Dampened treads now a rhythmic clicking as Ostia navigated through the corridors, the Imperial having collected her large mug of recaff with no real destination in mid though,, her mind yet again doing the insufferable thing of reminiscing of past events.

She idly chuckles at the thought of how R'tan might be reacting when he finds out of this sudden trip Ostia has undertaken, knowing the large oaf would no doubt be trying to get to her in all manner of ways. Ostia had left some vox-messages for him prior to the departure, ensuring they would at the very least reach his company, updating on the current happenings at Karseille and her well-being as well as this trip towards,, well, outside of Imperial Space. (She had to phrase this carefully so not to actually say it was that far away,, but is not sure she succeeded.)

"Mademoiselle Haldus? Do you wish to enter la soute?"

Ostia blinks as she finds herself having walked all the way down towards one of the cargo hangers, where WARDEN was being held during this journey. Her mind being brought back by thanks of the Karseillais Guard who had been tasked with this entrance, the young man appearing a little confused by the distant gaze Ostia had when walking towards him.

"Ah, yes please. Uhhh,, Merçi." Ostia responding hesitantly, attempting a bit of Karseillais that she has picked up from her numerous talks with Noémie Durand and her peers. The guard gives a warm chuckle before thumbing the access panel with his free hand, offering a welcome answer to Ostia's honest attempt of his native tongue "Á l'aise."

Ostia leaned against support struts of Warden's foot, sipping her now honestly lukewarm recaff, enjoying the more neutral mechanical hum and noise from within the hanger than the hubbub of the upper decks and mess-halls. It was not too quiet to make her uneasy nor too loud to be a nuisance, a welcome middle point for Ostia to enjoy during the repetitive days onboard the cruiser. Lucelle appeared to be resting at the moment within her silica and plasteel home, something that Ostia envied a little,, not all her dreams were quiet or peaceful.

The woman stared into the dark swirling drink in her grasp, the faintly oily surface reflecting a muddled reflection of her tired gaze,, a mockery almost. How long has it been,, since she last smiled, laughed, been allowed to be herself, bare her soul without shame? Weary, tired, worn out like too little jam spread over a wheat-bread. Ostia did not even notice as her body slowly slid down till she was sat against the cool metal of the Knight's foot, her hands locked in grasping the ceramic mug and its tepid contents.

Throne on Terra was she tired. Not just from lack of slumber, but from the constant conflict over the years, the old blood stained on her hands, groxshit politics and bureaucracy, numerous visits to the medibay when her prosthetics start being rejected, old scars sending shocks of searing pain for no apparent reason,, nightmares of what she had seen in the caverns. It never seemed to end,, she could do tha-

"Ow! Fekking,," Ostia snaps back into reality when she feels a stab of pain in her hand, almost dropping the mug of recaff when she jerks her hand free. Finally noticing that her mug had a small crack in its surface, and a small shard of it was now poking into her palm. Ostia grumbles lightly under her breath as she sets the mug down gently on a cargo crate near her, before delicately extracting the ceramic shard from her skin. She inspects the sharp little nuisance that had broken her from her stupor, wondering how such a little thing could cause such pain.

",,, huh, I guess even little things can have some bite."

Ostia muses in a whisper, turning the small shard over in her fingers, seeing how the pale red blood stained the dark grey sliver.

Her musing gets interrupted once more though as the vox hailers in the scaffolds crackle into life, giving a short klaxon call prior to its announcement. *All stations, all stations, prepare for warp transit. All hands, double up all lines and secure. Repeat, prepare for warp transit.*

Ostia curses as she downs the remainder of the tepid recaff, the shard getting wordlessly tucked into a pocket while she gets herself up to anchor on one of WARDEN's shin plates, bracing herself for the incoming jolt that always comes with transitioning back into realspace.

Not even a minute later the entire vessel jerks as the cruiser decelerates, returning back into reality and its innumerable laws of physics. Cables whine as they hold down cargo while bulkheads groan as they try to keep the ship together. WARDEN tips slightly from the shift in gravity and change in momentum, but thanks to the numerous cables (and Lucelle waking up to adjust her balance), the large Knight does not fall over.

Ostia breathes a sigh of relief as nothing seems to break or get flung about, recalls numerous times onboard Imperial vessels of cargo getting yeeted through the air due to being not tied down, and sending a crewman or Imperial Guard into the air.

A short klaxon is heard once more through the vox hailers, while the hanger blast doors sink into the floor as their task of protecting the cargo has been accomplished. The twisted scape of warp-stuff had been replaced,, with the sight of a massive world below with wide stretches of ocean and mountains, and over its pole hung a web of orbital installations and docking arms, the silvery metal reflecting the light from a hidden sun beyond the planet.

*Warp transit complete, successful drop to destination co-ords. Captain Treudo welcomes all passengers, to Valgrind Station. Welcome to the Kingdom of Midgård, where Land and Myth tread.*

(Ostia Haldus belongs to @rowscara !)

[tlcwrites]

By A Nose

Submission for Writer Wednesday 5/12

Summary: If you're going to talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk. Or, proof Poe Dameron is a terrible loser.

Word Count: 1528

Tags/Warnings: Poe Dameron x Reader, Modern AU. Implied smut but mostly in passing. Some bad words. Poorly edited because as usual I finished this at like 11 and my kids get up at 5 so I need to go to sleep.

Author’s Note: THREE FICS IN A WEEK WHO AM I?

Okay, so I cannot be the only one who saw the photo for this week's Writer Wednesday (thank you once more for hosting, @autumnleaves1991-blog!) and went the direction I did. If I am the only one, well, just further proof my brain is certifiable. Make sure you comment on when you figure out where this fic takes place.

There will also be an accompanying headcanon coming for this probably tomorrow, because there was SO much material I wanted to use but couldn't make fit. Thank you @paper-n-ashes for brainstorming with me and being the best hype-woman ever.

“AAAAHHHHH.”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“FINN!!” You smack him. “There are small children here!”

But he’s too busy screaming to pay attention.

On the other side of you, Kaydel looks decidedly green. She lets out a pained moan as your vehicle makes a particularly hard turn. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

You pat her knee as you fly through a kitchy town. “Hang in there, honey. It’s almost over.”

The village elder’s well wishes still ringing in your ears, you pull up next to another idling transport. From the driver’s seat, your boyfriend winks at you.

“You’re going down, Dameron!” you holler at him.

He makes the universal ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. “Eat my dust, losers!”

Finn yells back something that has you smacking him again, shooting an apologetic glance to the second row of Poe’s transport, where Snap and Karé are sitting with their daughter Nora. Snap’s hands fly to cover Nora’s ears while Karé laughs heartily.

Next to Poe, Rey holds her thumb and forefinger up to her forehead in an ‘L’ shape. “Second place is the first to lose!”

Before any more trash talking can occur, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye and then both vehicles take off, bursting out of the dark into blinding sunlight.

You both fly over the rusty terrain, neck and neck as you navigate under rocky overpasses and around hairpin turns. From the second row of your car, you can hear Maz lobbing profanities at Chewie in the other ride. He’s yelling back in his native tongue (which you still only understand half of). Beside Maz, Leia and Han are both laughing like kids.

A shriek of joy erupts from you as you fly over a series of hills, the momentary weightlessness thrilling. Finn has both hands in the air, while Kaydel grips the safety handle with white knuckles.

Finally, you come out of a turn to see a sharp drop. You look to Poe, who grins back at you, his vehicle slightly ahead of yours. Damnit, you HATE losing to him. He’s the worst winner.

At the last moment, your ride leaps ahead, crossing under the checkered banner by a nose. The passengers of your car cheer and high-five in victory, while Poe’s passengers groan in good-natured defeat.

As you roll through the red-lit cavern, you laugh as you catch sight of Poe’s face. He’s a terrible winner, but he’s an even worse loser. Even if his loss comes at the hands of an algorithm.

Anthropomorphic cars wave you off as both vehicles enter the unloading zone. On the other side of the platform, Chewie is lifting Rey out of the front seat as she pretends to collapse in agonized failure, her laughter completely destroying the illusion. You accept Finn’s hand as he helps you up, both of you turning to support Kaydel as she crawls out of the car.

A ride attendant watches her warily. “Does she need assistance?” he asks Han.

Han waves him off, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders as Maz and Chewie beeline for the ride photos. “She’ll be fine. No protein spills here.” At the cast member’s astonished look, the charming rogue gives his trademark grin. “Ain’t my first rodeo, kid.” As he and Leia stroll past you towards the exit, he catches your eye and winks. “That, and they haven’t changed the lingo since the 70’s.”

Laughing, you rub Kaydel’s back as Rey swaps places with Finn and helps bracket your green-tinged friend. “Let’s get you some water, yeah?”

Kaydel manages a slight nod, and the three of you make your way towards the exit.

Behind you, you can hear Poe and Finn bickering, as they’re wont to do.

“It’s a ride, dude,” Finn is saying, the exasperation clear in his tone.

“It’s physics, dude,” Poe shoots back. “There’s NO way the car on the outside of the turn would be able to finish first.”

Worst. Loser. Ever.

Your rag-tag alliance eventually makes it out of the exit tunnel. Ben’s waiting across the walkway, those ridiculously long arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the guard rail and steadily ignores whatever Armitage is ranting about.

On the bench next to them, Rose perks up, a smirk crossing her pretty face as she sees Poe’s expression. “Well, I don’t need to ask who won.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” the most-competitive-pilot-in-the-galaxy grumbles back, adjusting his backpack. You help Kaydel to a bench, where she quickly curls up.

Rey rolls her eyes as she forces her way into the circle of Ben’s arms. “It’s not like any of us could have actually controlled the outcome, you noodle.”

“Not without some kind of magic,” Ben intones dryly, resting his chin on his girlfriend’s head.

“How cool would that be, though?” Rey’s getting her Down-The-Wormhole-We-Go eyes. You and Rose exchange a Look™️ as she starts gesturing wildly with her hands. “Like, imagine if you could just look at something like rocks and, like, make them fly. Or make someone do whatever you wanted them to do. OH!” She looks up at Ben with a slightly manic expression. “Lightning bolts from your fingers!!”

Well-used to these kinds of rambles, Ben gently captures her hands and wraps her into a hug that doubles as a straight jacket. “No more SyFy channel before bed.”

Rose slides her arms around her husband as Finn joins her on the bench. “Did you behave?”

Nora, in all her 6-year-old innocence, giggles. “Mr Finn said a whole lot of swear-jar words.” She casts a critical eye on the young man. “You probably said enough you could buy an Elsa doll.” The ‘for me’ is unsaid, but implied.

Karé rapidly turns her laugh into a cough.

Finn glances down at his wife as Rose smacks him upside the head. “Hey! That tractor thing is terrifying. And Maz said WAY more than I did!”

“Age before beauty, Finnigan,” Maz says haughtily, waving off Finn’s ‘m'name’s not Finnigan, damn it’.

Giggling, you tune out the ridiculousness that is your found family and turn your attention to your still-sulking boy toy. “You know,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist, “you make that face for long enough and it’ll stick that way.”

He huffs. “This is just how my face looks.”

“Uh huh.” Considering yourself quite the expert in his face, having spent countless hours studying every crease and line until you could have drawn him blindfolded, you call bullshit, but say nothing further.

“It is,” he insists.

“Okay,” you agree.

The King of Sarcasm narrows his eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

You widen your eyes innocently. “What thing?”

“That thing where it sounds like you’re agreeing with me but you’re really telling me I’m a dumbass.”

“What?!” You bring your hand to your chest. “Moi?! I would never.”

He huffs again, but you can see the hint of a smirk starting to break though.

“C’mon, First Runner Up,” you tease. “No sulking in Disneyland. Let me buy you a drink at Trader Sam’s, and then we can sneak off to the Haunted Mansion and make out like teenagers in our Doom Buggy.”

He tilts his head, considering it.

“Or-“ You brush an inky curl off his forehead and stand on your toes until your lips are just about caressing his ear and whisper, “-we could get back in line right now and go again.”

Even before you’ve finished speaking, Poe’s grabbing your hand and hauling you back towards the entrance, tossing a “See you jerks later!” as he pulls you under the Radiator Springs Racers sign. Their laughter echos behind you as he leads the way through the mostly empty line (thank goodness for parade lulls).

As you wait in the queue, only a few dozen people stand between Poe and his (re)shot at victory. You see that competitive gleam in his eyes start to come alive again.

“Hey.” You tug on his tee shirt until he looks at you. “If our car doesn’t win, tonight I’ll do That Thing you love.”

“Babe.” The look he gives you is one of pure torture. “You are killing me here.” He really loves to win. But he really, really loves That Thing. “What about when we come in first?”

You shrug demurely. “Then you wear Those Pants™️ tomorrow.”

Hm. Poe’s always been quick to calculate his odds, and this is quickly turning into a win/win situation. If you lose, he gets That Thing. But Those Pants™️ turn you about feral, and when you’re in that kind of mood- let’s just say Poe still has the scars on his shoulders to prove it.

“Are those terms acceptable, Flight Commander Dameron?” You smile sweetly up at him.

His licentious grin says it all. “Hell yeah.”

For the record, your car does lose a second time. And the next morning, Poe hardly has Those Pants over his ass when you’re ripping them back down his legs and shoving him backwards onto the bed.

Oh, yeah, he thinks to himself. This is better than any dumb kid’s ride.

…doesn’t mean he’s not going to ride it as many times as it takes to win.

A/N: I almost titled this “Tell me you have children without saying you have children”. I am so fucking sick of ‘Lining McQueen’. Yay 4-year-olds.

Thank you for reading; likes and reblogs feed my soul.

[nemossubmarine]

Warhammer 40k: Wrath & Glory #36

Ranan finds Coco eating at the mess hall, and asks if they could talk. Coco says sure. Ranan wants to apologise about the way he acted back on Treshan. He says he wasn’t usually much for praying, so him acting that way around Ada was definitely odd. Coco says it’s alright, and then explains a little bit about what’s going on, including learning about who killed Jim. Ranan is pleased about hearing that it’s an eldar that’s to blame, should be easy to get some ears and deal with it. Coco says she certainly tried, but they are currently in alliance with the eldar. Ranan warns about being too close with xenos, even as a Rogue Trader. Coco asks Ranan more about the Devil, but Ranan says he can’t say much, as y’know, he’s easily blackmailable. Suffice to say, he has known her for a long time. Coco brings up the potential that the Devil is an eldar, but Ranan shuts that down, saying that he's seen enough of Devil (communal baths apparently) to know she’s all human.

Larry goes to visit La’awali and Tirak in their room, wanting to apologise for them having to be stuck inside for so long. The pair is understanding, they prefer this over the glares of the humans. Larry asks about their sort of time-frame of getting home, and how long do their races live anyway? Apparently La’awali is around 28 with an expected life between 30 and 40 and Tirak is 48 with an expected life of couple of hundred of years, so definitely there’s some urgency with La’awali. But if they get close to the Tau, they will be able to contact them so they won’t be immediately shot down. Larry gets the pair something to eat, and leaves them be. He says Alice might visit occasionally, but other than that, not to let anyone else in.

Coco takes up a habit to pop by the storage rooms where the Wolves, Vivek and the psyker are, making sure everything is okay and exchanging a few words. Uffe remains not talkative, but not hostile, unlike the Wolves who keep their helmets on in the other storage room, who don’t talk to Coco and don’t seem to appreciate her presence. One day, Coco asks if Uffe might want to take a walk with her. Uffe notes there isn’t much room for walking, but sure. So they do just that, walk down the hall of the ship. Uffe asks Coco what she wishes to talk about, and Coco brings up the fact that she knows there are Wolves on Dysmonia, the planet where her brother died. She wishes if Uffe could let her know what they’re doing there. Uffe tells her that Lord Commander Dante had asked the Wolves to come to the Segmentum Obscurus to assist in other matters. According to the Blood Angels’ intel, they believe some eldar are appearing from the area, and the Wolves are hunting for the source. Uffe doesn’t know much more about it, he has his own mission. Coco warns that the planet has killed Marines before. Uffe has Vivek copy some of the pictures from the crime scene to be sent forward. Uffe thanks Coco for them.

One day, few months into the traveling in the Warp, Ferrus calls Larry and asks if he might pop by his nest to have a little chat. Larry does so. Ferrus wants to talk about the fact that he is dying, and what with being held in a cell by the Countess for couple of weeks, some of his money being left behind and now this, it would take a miracle for him to find someone to fix him. Larry asks how much longer does he think he has, and he says maybe like couple of months. He doesn’t want this to be mentioned to others as he doesn’t want to upset them. Anyway, he wants to give Larry some advice on getting a replacement Navigator. Ferrus has some maps that are quite valuable Larry could use to get some Navigator to want to join, so he’s bequeathing them to him. He recommends getting someone young and desperate, saying he himself started navigating when he was 12. Definitely also recommends getting that license. Larry asks about the funeral and Ferrus jokes his corpse should be dropped off at his father’s doorstep, maybe that’d make him happy. No, just tossing him into space is fine.

Larry brings up Chazaqiel (explaining the situation there to Ferrus) and says they’ve been thinking about using Ferrus to kill him. Ferrus considers this and says it seems agreeable to him, even if there’s like 50% chance he’ll die. He figures if he could do something good before he dies then maybe he’ll have a place in the Emperor’s bosom. Larry says he doesn’t know about it, he certainly is going to Hell, as he has smooched some xenos. Oh, says Ferrus, then it doesn’t matter. Apparently Ferrus has smooched a kroot (which is how he picked up the language). Well, Larry says, they’ll meet in Hell then. Larry asks what kind of stuff Ferrus actually enjoys, and he shrugs and says he does enjoy navigating and also looking at handsome men, both which Larry has been able to provide already.

Coco gets to finally meet up with her sibling, Jim’s twin Omar. They have a meet-up at the same lake on Treshan where they met up with the eldar originally. Coco takes her friends with, and Omar gets there with a bunch of eldar, they’re also wearing some eldar garb (Larry whispers to Alice that it seems this xenos-friendliness seems to run in the family), which gives Coco pause. This was a long conversation, so here’s the main points. Omar left the family, because Jim sensed that something was wrong and Omar went to investigate (Coco was sad she wasn’t informed, but Omar said they really had no idea what was up, so it felt odd to make it into a thing). Well, they eventually joined up with these eldar and only afterwards learned that the eldar had killed Jim. They’re obviously heartbroken about that, but still seem quite content hanging out with the eldar. They’ve no plans on getting back to the family, even if Coco had assumed they would become the next heir to the Rogue Trader name. Omar’s super against that, saying they’ve no wish to be compared (unfavorably no doubt) to Jim for the rest of their life. They’re not quite sure what they’ll do, but they’re apparently fine with hanging out with the eldar right now. Seems Coco has to pick up the mantle. Coco says she can’t, what with the whole being blamed for Jim’s death. Omar hasn’t known about that, and is saddened by this. They say if they’d know, they would have reached out sooner. So it’s probably going to Mari-anne, the youngest sibling. Coco says she might have the temperament, being more of the player of the game type. Omar says they figure Marianne is probably rather lonely, having been left out from the three older siblings’ things.

Anyway, there’s still one person infected on board, and Omar knows it to be Sai, a bastard child of one of Coco’s uncles. Omar has apparently been planning on sending assassins, as they doubt they can explain why Sai should die. Coco thinks she may be able to explain it to the current Rogue Trader, but that leaves the problem of proving that Coco didn’t assist in killing Jim. Coco asks if Omar has any ideas, and Omar says they don’t, but they’re sure that the eldar will help, they owe the family that much. Larry suggests Vathac give the Rogue Trader a call, but Vathac doubts that the Rogue Trader has any reason to trust him. Besides, the eldar are yes, willing to help, but really don’t want the RT to go on a vengeance mission, which is a worry as Coco knows where they live and has shown a tendency to shooting them. They all agree to discuss this further once the Countess hopefully has been dealt with.

One day during their travels, Uffe comes by the bridge and asks to talk with Larry, so Larry leaves Coco in charge so the two of them can go talk. It’s time to talk about Linhildr. Uffe asks what Larry has told to his companions about his sister. Larry has told them that his sister is living in Fenris, but certainly nothing more. Uffe says it must be kept that way. The fact that there has been no women space marines before means that some feel that there never will be and that their existence will be considered heresy. The Wolves want to give the female Wolves a chance to prove themselves as Astartes, before they have to prove themselves again. So only Larry and his mother should know. Larry agrees to this.

Uffe asks if Larry would like to talk with his sister, but that’s probably a bit too much. Larry asks to see and hear her talk, so they arrange it so that Larry will watch through the security cameras as Uffe takes Linhildr into the gunner’s room. Later Vivek will erase the tapes. Larry asks if he could get something to show for his mother, and Uffe agrees for Vivek to give him a print-out. (Larry also asks Uffe about whether Hell exists, and Uffe thinks that people who aren’t allowed into uplands simply disappear, but then again, he’s no theologian).

So, Uffe goes to set things up and after a while, he voxes for Larry to go into place, so Larry leaves Coco behind again (and kinda makes it look like he’s going to have some self-loving). Eventually Uffe enters the gunner’s room with a wolf, and they sit down to talk in Fenrisian. Uffe appears to be teaching Linhildr about the ship’s gun. At some point, something Uffe says makes Linhildr take off her helmet, revealing a young woman. Larry asks through the vox if Uffe could ask Linhildr what she does this all for. Uffe first switches languages before asking Linhildr that. Linhildr mentions having saved a village of people from demons, and she liked that. Larry thanks Uffe, and cuts the channel. Uffe and Linhildr talk a while more, before Linhildr puts her helmet back on and the two leave. Larry, who has cried during all this, takes a moment to gather himself and look over the tape again.

Vivek gets to the room to erase the tapes and get a printout picture of Linhildr. He asks if Larry wants a voice clip as well, to let his mom hear her talk. Larry says that would be nice, so Vivek gets him a clip, saying he should keep it secret, as Vivek wasn’t really sanctioned by the Wolves to give this out. Larry thanks him and heads back to the bridge.

Unbeknownst to the two of them Coco overhears Vivek entering the room where Larry is and comes to the conclusion that the two of them are having an affair. Coco brings up that she didn’t know he was into older men and the fact that she wishes Larry wouldn’t do that sort of thing that close to the cockpit when he knows she’s there. It takes a moment for Larry to catch up on what she’s saying, when he does, he simply laughs. He tries the next day to convince Coco that he and Vivek broke up, but unfortunately Coco doesn’t buy it, so Larry continues the ruse (to make her not wonder why Vivek came by in the first place). Both Vivek and Uffe notice a certain awkwardness when Coco visit, but do not say anything. Larry eventually lets Vivek know that he has been pretending to have a friend with benefits agreement with Vivek for the past two months. Vivek seems to find this quite funny

[redbatchedcumbermayned]

Dopamine Week - Thanksgiving edition #3

This dopamine week, I thought about doing something completely different—giving thanks to the amazing people, writers, artists, and all-around amazing folks I met through the Rogue Trader fandom.

Today, I want to say thanks to @maggotknight, who is a fandom sweetheart, a kind person, and an amazing artist.

You are the heart and soul of Heinclub! Whether it's your kind words, the time you take to listen to people going through it, the great advice you give, your encouragement and cheerleading in the writer's chat, or your phenomenal artworks —I love all of it, and Heinclub would be poorer without you.

I love your doodles of Lilith and Heinrix. I love the stories you share about them. I absolutely adore your art style. And your reaction gif game is unsurpassed. I'm grateful, you and @hazelderiva have yet to team up in the live reading chat, or I would be unable to finish even one sentence.

Please, stay the fantastic person you are. I'm so happy to have met you this year. Heinclub meet-up when?

[shyguythemasquerage]

D&D Story Time

TLDR: Party gets distracted during interrogation and buys drugs.

Context. We are playing an evil campaign where we are also building up a settlement as a safe haven for people fleeing an equally evil Holy Empire. (the whole world is fucking evil I guess) Our party consists of five level 10-11 players. A tiefling barbarian named Mo’Dest (Me), a tabaxi ranger named Steaks and New Boots, a dwarven fighter named Kitty, a yuan-ti sorceress named Amui, and a human rogue with an overly long name but we call him Luther, who is also an ex-inquisitor of the Holy Empire and often carries the party’s one brain cell. We also have about a dozen or so npc characters that range from non-combatants, to can fight, but are about half our level. When it comes to combat, we are extremely efficient killing machines. But outside of combat, we are a bunch of idiots.

Continuing with the story, on our way to where we were going to settle down, we had to pass through a massive swamp. While traveling, we encountered a gang of what we think were drug dealers that attacked us with a giant crocodile that was covered in acidic pustules which they affectionately called “Mojo.” We just call it a coke-odile because how else does a bunch of drug dealers make a giant acidic croc other than giving it a bunch of coke?

Anyway, after leaving the swamp we found a relatively dry flatland that has traders and even a few small towns built in the rubble of ancient ruins. We find a set of ruins next to a spooky forest that is unoccupied (except for a few now dead giant owlbears) and we set up our base of operations.

About an in-game week later, we notice a small sign that was placed outside of our settlement that is draped in a bit of scaly skin with the word “Mojo” written on it. We decide that these swamp drug lords will be a problem if we leave them alone so we set out to make sure that they don’t bother us again. Probably by killing them all, but we’ll decide on that later. However, the swamp is fucking HUGE and there is no way we will be able to find these guys if we go blindly wandering in the swamp. We also learn that there are many gangs in the swamp so if we aren’t careful we could start a war with the wrong gang.

After searching around the sign for a bit, we pick of the trail and follow the tracks to one of the other nearby towns. We bribe our way in and start asking around town. Our rogue uses thieves’ cant to try to find out where we can find the local thieves guild so we can try to narrow our search. We find two locations that could be useful, a part in town where drugs are often sold, and the thieves HQ. Wanting to start small, we go to the drug area first, which is where we ended last weeks session.

Our session last night ended up almost being a complete waste of time, as the dealer we were talking to didn’t know anything useful, and it took so long to find out he was useless that we didn’t have enough time to go to the HQ. Part of the reason it took so long was because our rogue, being an ex-inquisitor, likes to ask lots of questions to catch people in a web of lies. And when you do this to just some mook who sells drugs and was clearly also on drugs, this just does not work. The other reason it took so long was because the rest of the party, myself included, decided that if we are talking to a drug dealer, we might as well get some drugs. So we kept interrupting this interrogation to buy drugs and ended up with no information. So next week we’ll pick up right were we started last night, but with about 50 golds worth of hard narcotics.

Now, something I hadn’t mentioned, is that the player playing our rogue takes extensive notes. We like to give him shit for it but honestly, his notes are so good that the rest of the party barely has to write anything down. After the session I took a look at his notebook and saw only one page filled, which is not a lot by normal standards. After reading it though I had to take a picture of it and share it.

For those who can’t see the image:

Die Erweiterung Session 18             11/26/19

I look for the glyphs for the drug dealers and find a building with them with a light. I do the shave and a haircut knock and a slit opens, I greet the person behind the slit and they ask me what we want. I try to covertly say we would like  cocaine and lead into the cokeodile talk. I get a little too into  the drug talk but I snap back to it thanks to Steaks. I ask if they know Mojo and they ask if I need some sexual stimulant. Mo chimes in but I quiet him. I also ask if they know if any of the other drug gangs utilize crocodiles as attack animals. I also mimic their call signs. Nothing comes to mind. Steak also mentions they string people up and murders them. Nothing comes up from them. Steaks decides to to buy some cocaine and gives some to Kitty. They think that maybe the gang are just hobos and should be coked up like them to find them. I start getting very irritated (irl too). I try to compose myself by praying to Okron. Mo ends up buying mushrooms. I finally lose it (irl too) and ask to speak to a manager. Kitty pulls me back. We decide to just visit the Shinobi Thieves. I really need a fucking drink. Shenanigans.

[brydigdraws]

Goblin Week Day 1

Another year, another Goblin Week! Unfortunately, this particular week will be very busy for me so I’m unsure if I can actually do all seven days.

For now, though, please enjoy this short snippet about my goblins Rzekamien’s (originally made for D&D 5e) and Loc’s (originally made for a modified version of WH40K: Rogue Trader) first meeting (you can find out more about them by checking their respective tags on this blog). Please bear in mind that I’m not really a writer, and that this is a first draft and thus contains a few placeholder names and such.

It was an ordinary day as far as Rzekamien was concerned. The sun was shining through the trees, the birds sang their songs, and the wind was but a pleasant breeze. He liked it that way.

He sat in his cottage, writing in detail about the anatomy of the Etruscan shrew, referencing a skull sitting in front of him on the desk. He wasn't a published author or anything of the sort, nor did he wish to be. And even if he so wished, books written in Goblin weren't exactly in demand (not that he couldn't write in other languages - he was, in fact, quite the polyglot, but he held a certain fondness for his mother tongue). He simply wrote for himself, present and future. He also had a knack for illustration, at least given a reference. The sketches were scattered all throughout the book, complimenting texts about various plants, animals and fungi. This was volume twenty. He had opened a window to appreciate the ambient sounds it let in. For now, the forest was calm.

It was decidedly not an ordinary day for Loc. He was travelling through the galaxy at several times the speed of light, desperate to shake off his pursuers. He hadn't done anything wrong, really. Scavenging wasn't technically illegal, and how could he possibly have known that the wreckage of the huge ship that hadn't given off a single sign of activity for hundreds of years still, some-fucking-how, had survivors on it? Really aggressive, possessive survivors. With fully functional mini ships to chase his poor ass for way longer than was reasonable. He really wasn't the one in the wrong here.

Loc was quite a skilled pilot, but his ship could only go so fast, despite its small size. As he performed some impressive void acrobatics to stall for time, he also checked the radar for any planet that may be safe to land on.

Gas, gas, too cold, too hot...

After a while he came upon one with not only a survivable temperature, but also solid ground and breathable air.

Jackpot!

He headed straight for it, but just as he was about to enter the atmosphere, one of his pursuers finally managed to hit him with a projectile. As the error messages filled up the monitor, he did his best to regain control of the brakes to cushion the inevitable crash.

As though someone had snapped their fingers, the calm of the forest had come to an abrupt stop. Rzekk jumped at the sudden sound of branches breaking and trees falling not far from his home, quickly followed by a deafening boom. It was no longer an ordinary day.

After calming himself down a bit, Rzekk looked out the window to try to see what possibly could have caused so much noise and destruction. All he was met with was a tower of smoke beyond the trees - at least he didn't smell fire. He contemplated whether he should go and take a proper look; someone might have been seriously hurt, and he was a healer after all (not by choice, mind you, just came with the whole druid schtick). Then he remembered all the times curiosity had nearly killed him, and decided it was none of his business. It was probably just a powerful spell an incompetent spell caster had tried their hands at, or something of the sort. That was their own fault, and they'd have to deal with the consequences themselves - that's part of becoming competent. He went back to studying the skull.

Loc groaned. It was a rough landing, to say the least. But he did seem to still have all his limbs intact, thanks to his airbag suit. It looked absolutely ridiculous when inflated, but had played a big part in the drastic reduction of the amount of spaceship accident-related deaths in the last 20 years.

He pressed a small button to deflate the suit, and examined himself in the rear view mirror. Just some bruising, it seemed. ... Maybe internal bleeding? Oh, and definitely a headache. His bones seemed whole, at least.

He stepped outside on wobbly legs, and groaned anew when he saw that his ship now looked more like a pile of scrap than something he had spent 20.000 zilcons on. He put a caring hand against the hull.

"Don't worry, baby, Daddy's gonna fix you right up! Just stay put." And so he was on his wobbly way, hoping to find an engineering guild. Maybe a pharmacy, for some painkillers. When he was some hundred meters away, the engine exploded.

"Goddamnit."

Rzekamien was once again interrupted, this time by a loud knock on the door. Visitors were very rare this deep in the woods, so it did surprise him. But more than that, it annoyed him. He had been in the zone, and that knock knocked him right out of it. He was just about to ignore his visitor and get back to work, when they knocked again. And again. And again and again and his ears hurt. He sighed and went to open the door.

Before him stood a... goblin? He thought so, at least. They were about a head taller than himself, with blue-tinted, green skin, and big ears. However, he had never seen a goblin with such a nose before - it reminded him more of a bat's. And those clothes, they were made of materials he had never seen. The goblin's hair was as pink as lyre flowers - no dye he knew of was capable of such a rich, bright colour. ... Where the fuck did this person come from?

"Hey! I'm Loc, from star system LX-933-B. Nice to meet you!" The stranger stretched out a hand in greeting. Rzekk looked at the hand, then back to their face, then back to the hand. He really didn't want to touch it, but still did so reluctantly, for a lack of better alternatives. He retracted his hand immediately upon feeling the stickiness of the stranger's palm, and let out a small croak of disgust.

"Oh, sorry, forgot to retract the hairs. ... So, what's your name?" Rzekk didn't answer, he just looked at his unwelcome visitor suspiciously. He couldn't see behind their extremely dark-tinted goggles, which actually helped him sell the illusion that he was looking them in the eyes.

"Not much of a talker, eh? That's okay. Anyway, I just, uh, happened to crash here, so I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest engineering guild? Oh, and do you have any pain killers? ... It wasn't a very pleasant landing, y'see." He laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm asking for a lot here." (he really wasn't) "I could give you something for the trouble? Not sure what, though, I didn't have much on me to begin with, and I'm not sure how much is whole at this point." With every word, Rzekk grew more and more confused. He knew five languages, and had heard pretty much all others on the planet enough times that he could easily recognise them. But whatever this person was spewing? He didn't have a clue. Loc noticed the confusion in his eyes and came to a halt.

"Oh, don't tell me... Your planet's that backwards? You don't have translators? You know, those chips installed in your ears? You don't have those? Oh boy, have you even made contact with the rest of the outside universe yet? What about your technology? Do you even know what velcro is? What-" Loc got interrupted by a sudden coughing fit, which made Rzekamien jump backwards in surprise. It was so violent one could think his heart would jump out of his throat at any moment. When the coughing finally stopped, Loc noticed the blood on his hands, and felt it trickle down his chin. He wiped it off unceremoniously. Rzekamien just stared at him in disbelief.

"Ohh, shit. I'm worse off than I thought, huh? Hey, is it alright if I crash here? I'm not... I'm not feeling very well." And that's all he managed to say before he went limp and collapsed before Rzekamien's feet. After trying his best to process what had just played out in front of him, Rzekamien begrudgingly dragged his unconscious body inside (he was a healer, after all). Ordinary days as he knew them would never come again.

[storiesofadanandhisdog]

The Kings Crown

PROLOGUE  

The  rain fell in large drops, straight down on the hood of Keldorn’s worn cloak. The evening was thick with the smell of wet and rotting wood from the forest floor. Mud sucked and grabbed at the wheels of his drive cart and trailing load. They were heavy and piled high with all kinds of goods on their way to the market in Talaris.

“Come on ya filthy orc smellin’ son’s o’ cows.” Keldorn shouted at the gorthas pulling the train along with seemingly no trouble at all. Gorthas are huge leathery animals that closely resemble a rhino crossed with a pig, but bigger than you might think.

 “We won’t find no dry place to sleep ere’n this forest tonight if ya don’t git those stubby legs movin'.” He knew it was a totally useless suggestion though; gorthas after all have only two speeds, slow and 'I’m dragging An entire store behind me, through a foot of sucking mud, and can’t possibly move any faster if you lit my butt on fire'. So he pulled his hood a little lower and mumbled to himself.

Keldorn had started out from his home in the mountains of Roundhin, more than two weeks past the point any other traders will make the trip. Winter comes hard to this region, and most make good and sure they and their horses are home before it hits. Winters bite would have little effect on the thick skinned gorthas though, and Keldorn has seen a few hard winters out of doors and far from a warm bed.

His thoughts started to wander again to his friends, and the thought of seeing them again after what seemed a long time indeed. “Come on, GET! “ He barked snapping a seldom used whip at his side. He felt bad using the tool because of its symbolism, and not for any thought that they may get mad, or even feel it. These gorthas have been with him for twenty years. The moment they are born, gorthas are introduced to the dwarf who will be as their family. Keldorn and no other can ask them to move. Anyone who tries to force a gortha to go where it doesn’t want to go is wasting the last few moments of their life pushing a mountain that can pulverize steel in it’s blunted teeth. 

“S'ok, I’m just a might touchy s’all.” In Talaris his friends are gathering at this very moment to drink and laugh, toast and cheer, of their past adventures together. There is no place on earth he would want to be more. 

The rain worsened, but there was a small almost invisible smile on the side of Keldorn’s face. He’d be there by dawn.

Davin Mitrell rode to Talaris atop a perfectly groomed mare named Apple. The horse had no sentimental significance, but was a good mannered and intelligent beast. He rode well and the way was smooth, so the trip had been good so far. He was only a half day out by soft ride, so he took his time and enjoyed the day. 

In the trees and bushes, that line the eastern road, eyes watched his passing with more than a passing interest in his wizards robes. These eyes noted no spell book at hand or even visible, wizards often had valuables on them and were easy marks when caught defenceless.

Davin sat back and smiled as he thought of the perfect way to surprise his old companions, he’d walk in to the tavern with a chicken under one arm and a loaf of bread under the other and say ……

An arrow dug into the side of his robe and scratched a deep line along his chest, as twelve men jumped out onto the road in front and behind him. 

“Get him quickly before he can get to some sort o’ magic or another,” one of the bandits barked. They rushed forward from all sides, and another arrow passed by the now rearing horse.

Startled into action, Davin cast the only spell he could think of. “Slee val ectrom!“  Davin is in point of fact not a wizard as the bandits had thought but rather a sorcerer, and a rather odd one at that. Not to say odd in manner, but in that every spell he seems to learn goes wildly out of control, or has some sort of unexplainable side effect. Most of the time you never know what’s going to happen.

The bandits all start to fall fast to sleep, which is good seeing as it was a sleeping type spell, but so does everything else. Birds drop from tree branches, squirrels fall onto the road, and most unfortunately for Davin is, his horse droops it’s eyelids an lays down for a nap. “Huh,” Davin looks around at the seen only slightly surprised, but more than a little concerned says, 

“Now, should I wait for the horse to wake up or will they all wake up together?” He thought  “Damn it.” Davin yelled, reaching down and picking up his pack, and anything he can carry from Apple, dusts himself off, and starts to put some ground between him and the bandits. “Sorry Apple, but I’m a little out manned  here and have no way of knowing when they’ll get back up.” Davin tipped a nonexistent hat to his horse and the rest of his belongings, and headed for his friends and The Top of The Hill Tavern in Talaris. If he’s lucky he’ll be there by dawn.

The monk sits in a wobbly waggon pulled by three very old mules. They should be living out the last of their days in a field grazing lazily on oats, but the group of pilgrims the monk is travelling with can’t afford to replace them. The going is slow but none seem to mind, they are used to long journeys. They came from a group of small villages to the south and planned to make the temple district in Talaris their last stop before the long trip home. 

    The monk has fallowed this group for eight months, watching their faces as they see places and people of religious importance to them and their histories. He understands this need to feel connected to a larger world because of his own need to visit these places, to study what they may teach him. The monk has spent almost his whole life in the study and mastery of his mind and body, to better understand his own place in the world.

    “Beggin’ your pardon Monk, but we're going to stop for a rest now,” Ged, one of the pilgrims said stirring the monk from his thoughts. “will ye be eating with us?”

    “I will be glad of the fine company, Ged.” The monk would some times decline the offer when he was fasting before a meditation, which had no set time as far as his companions could tell, so they always asked. “Whose turn is it to prepare the meal?”

    “Mary is up for the job today. She’s makin’ some sort of soup or stew, I’m not real sure.”

    “Humm, maybe I’ll meditate after all.” These two never find the good natured women’s food very appealing, but neither of them have the heart to tell her.

    “Ha, come on then lets be grateful for the fact that you're not cookin', and grab a bite my friend.” Ged  helped the monk from the waggon and they set out to make a spot clear for the group to eat.

    They ate their lunch in a flat clearing by the side of the road and talk quietly to one another.

    “Tell use Monk, how along has it been since you saw these friends of yours?” Mary asked him as he finished his, uhm, soup, stew…. meal. 

    “The last time I saw them was three years ago. We had had a time of sorting everything out between Davin and that wizards guild I’ve told you of, and Keldorn, the dwarf of the group, made use all promise to meet again. We have been in touch over the years through various ways and agreed on a time and place convenient for everyone. I must say that I’m really going to be glad to see them all again. It seems a very long time.”

    “We will probably make it there with time to spare, if the mules don’t die on us.” Ged laughed. ”We shouldn’t  be more then an hour or two away from the city before we have to stop for the night.”

    “It would be good to see them again,” he thought. “Not long now. We should be there at dawn.” 

    Mark Megal had an unusual travelling companion for a thief and a rogue. He rode beside his long time friend Corvin Godsmold, whose ornate chain shirt caught the sun and threw it about, shining and dancing off anything close by. The paladin almost always seemed to Mark to be giving off some kind of light. They were an odd pair, but they got along so well they just never got around to saying good bye as the others had after their last adventure together. Secretly, Mark stayed to have a good reason not to join a thieves guild, or worse an assassin’s guild. He just wasn’t that kind of a guy. Being able to say, “if I joined your group, I think my paladin friend there may have to smite me or something, and I have no desire to be smotten, thank you very much,” is a great way to avoid unwanted hassling. Mark is good at opening places that may have been shut to others, and finding his way safely to and from some of the more unsavoury places one sometimes needs to go, but he had never liked taking something that wasn’t his to take. Of course, possession is nine tenths of the law, and what Corvin doesn’t see won't kill him. 

    Corvin is a chosen paladin of Hundoo, God of honour and valour. He is a good man with strong principles, and he is rarely ever swayed once he has made up his mind what is right and what is wrong. Corvin likes having Mark with him for both company and for someone to help him stay true to his honour. He can trust Mark to always be Mark, a constant, always pulling some joke or scam. It’s in his harmless, if slightly immoral nature, that Corvin is reminded of what all people truly are at heart. Just people living their lives in the best way they know how.

    “Do you think Safrin and Morin will be there by now,” Mark asked trying not to sound excited.

    “They have been there for a week already, on some ranger business. We will Probably be the last ones there.” Corvin said, pointedly looking at Marks small horse. Mark had been forced to get a new one after his last one took a badly aimed arrow in the back of the head. This one was there, and cheap, two things that have great sway over the rogue purchasing decisions.

    “It’s not my fault, we were running on rough ground and she jerked up at the last second. Anyways it not my fault.”

    “Well with that mangy nag, we won't be there today, we’ll have to ride through the night to be there on time,” Corvin mocked Mark with a grin.

    “Well that’s not a big deal, after all, it’s not like we’re going to have any trouble with you all decked out in your Hundoo parade gear. Who in their right mind would attack us?” Mark grabbed the back of Corvin’s cape and gave a tug, laughing wildly as Corvin fussed over his dress cape being mishandled. 

    “Right then,” Corvin said leaning forward so quickly that it almost pulled Mark, still holding onto his cape, right off his nag. Corvin grinned, spurred his horse and rode circles around Mark as he regained his seat. “If you can catch me this time, I promise not to tell Keldorn you shot and killed your own horse in glorious battle.” He proclaimed holding a fist to the sky at the glorious combat line.

    “You wouldn’t.” A look of terror came over Mark’s face. “You’re not that mean.” He pleaded. “Isn’t it against your religion to kill someone by humiliation?”

    “No”.

    “Get back here you filthy god lover. Coward. Weakling. Oh come on.” Mark pleaded with the nag to move just a bit faster but it just would not move. As he watched Corvin ride away, he knew he’d never hear the end of this from Keldorn.

    Corvin’s voice could still be head far down the road saying, ”Let’s go Mark, we don’t want to be late. We can be there by dawn.” 

[commander-yinello]

Bearing the Seal of Doubt - a WoW Story

Proud to present my entry about anxiety and imposter syndrome for @puzzleboxzine​! I’m very honored to have been part of this project and to see so many amazing fictions and art. Please grab a copy of the zine here and help support a charity contributing to suicide prevention and mental health awareness! 

~~~~~~~

You have merely fooled them into thinking you’re clever, and now they are on to you.

The thought repeated in her head no matter how much she tried to quiet her mind. No time for this, she chastised herself and used the anger to conjure up new sparks in the center of her palm. The sparks converged and ignited, and flames travelled to her fingertips, setting the sky ablaze where she moved her hand.

The specters nearby trembled at the sight, letting out their anguished wail before dissipating into sparkling dust. She wished she had the time to collect samples, but it was bad enough she couldn’t keep her focus. They’d be back in no time, she knew, concentrate.

“By the light, they are everywhere!” came the panicked voice in the caravan from behind. She turned around to the wagon pulled by the calmest horse in the Eastern Kingdoms and handled by the most skittish trader. If the poor man trembled any more, he would lose the few remaining hairs on his head.

“Calm yer britches, it be lot less than usual,” Maia replied, patting the stout mare’s neck. The stout, well-armored Dwarf hadn’t even unsheathed her sword. “We got it well under control.”

The man on the caravan didn’t seem convinced, holding the bridle tighter, making Maia chuckle. How Pavlyna envied her friend, never racked with doubts that plagued her this very moment.

“They are appearing more and more in clusters. What is our plan of action?” Norwood asked to her side, the end of his cotton robes already smudged by the mud of the roads. The Gnome didn’t seem to care.

She looked ahead. The cold, gray mountain paths and dead forests of Deadwind Pass showed no trace of her guild leader or any of the scouts they sent ahead. Normally she wouldn’t think twice on what to say, but thanks to Zilas, she desired the approval of their superior.

Damn it Zilas, was it your intention to throw me off-guard just before our day of escort? She wiped strands of black hair away from her face before giving the order to her friend. “Just as we expected. Keep using fire as long as the rain stays away. Remember, these spirits feel no pain but maintain their memories - they will fear getting scorched and return to the nether to avoid it.”

Even as Norwood nodded in agreement and ran off to inform the others, Pavlyna heard the Night Elf challenge her again. “What is the point of a basic thing like fire? I’ve seen mages unleash storms straight from the nether and rip apart time, isn’t such power more effective against these trapped human ancestors?”

A bout of anger flared up within and caused her next flame to lash out much brighter. The few blue spirits vanished at once, but her hand still glowed from the afterburn. If she wasn’t more careful, she would get a stern lecture from their priest.

But she couldn’t help be angry. Had she not dedicated days, weeks, to research the enemies they could encounter in Deadwind Pass? Had she not consulted the more experienced mages in Stormwind on the best tactics? Had their leader not entrusted her to lead the other mages with the escort because of her proposed tactics? Fire was basic, yes. But it works. Fire was taught to the most novice of mages, so everyone in her guild would have mastered this skill. They didn’t need to kill these ghosts, they just had to keep them at bay long enough.

Yet it was a rogue who questioned her plans. Worse, their leader didn’t support her. “We’ll stick to what we know for now and discuss it after,” the former paladin said, dismissing them both back in the inn in Elwynn. It had been enough to keep her up all night, formulating everything she should have said and didn’t.

Anger turned to fear. Was she too proud to admit that maybe she hadn’t done her job right? Too arrogant to see that perhaps she shouldn’t oversee their mage squadron? Was Zilas the first to notice? How long until they stop trusting you? that damnable shadow of herself asked with a voice exactly like hers. She didn’t need to face the Lich King to know her biggest enemy was her mind. Not placed there by corruption or treachery, but by her own doubt.

So consumed in thought, she barely noticed her flames diminishing with every burst, and the specters took eager advantage, closing in on her location. Suddenly she heard Maia yelling.

“Pav! I’m going tae lure them all towards me!” The Dwarf wasted no time unsheathing her swords and ran past her to the cluster of spirits. She swung her blades around and hit naught but air, attracting their attention.

“Wh- Wait, Maia!!” Pavlyna warned, but their foes descended upon their friend, eager to enact the vengeance they never got in their lives.

Feeling heat surge in her body, passing through muscle and across skin, she collected all the energy she could. Within seconds, unstable orbs of flame formed and quivered in her hands. In a rapid motion she threw her hands down to push the fire into the ground, forcing them to travel through the earth. Elemental tongues whispered to her as the flames blazed a path around the dwarf. Even as the heat became unbearable, she held herself down while pillars of fire burst out of the ground, surrounding Maia. The specters forgot all about their revenge and left the mortal world again.

Once the last specter left, Pavlyna stopped channeling and the fire vanished in an instant. She panted, small blisters forming on her palms, yet there was no pain. Yet. The rush she felt, as if she had become one with flame, it was addictive and dangerous, it wouldn’t last.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a purple Elf appeared. The only sign that he was spooked were the large glowing eyes visible underneath a bandit’s mask. “What was that for?! You could have burned me!”

“It’s not like we knew were ye were, lightfoot.” Maia rolled her eyes. The ground around her still smoldered and the heavy stench of smoke filled the air. “And ye have tae admit it was pretty handy,” she gestured towards the area around them devoid of any specters, grinning. Pavlyna glared at her reckless friend.

“It was, but still.” Zilas pouted. In the distance a man called his name, and the rogue quickly ran off in a panic. “You both didn’t see me,” he whispered before slipping into the shadows, out of sight once more.

Maia chuckled heartily and shook her head. Now down from her high, Pavlyna realized she could have confronted Zilas right then. The unspoken words rested heavily on the tip of her tongue, and she cursed herself once more.

“Eating yerself up from the inside? It is written all over ye face,” Maia spoke, startling her.

How easy she was to read. Sheepishly, she nodded as the dwarf put her swords away, stepping over the soot-black dirt to get to her side. “It’s what Zilas said at the meeting last night. I can’t help but feel… a failure.”

“Yer nae a failure. Yer plan is working perfectly, no? Also, Zilas is young. He tends tae run his mouth without thinking. I doubt he meant tae hurt ye.”

She blinked for a few moments, touching the now aching blisters in between her fingers and conjuring tiny ice crystals on her fingertips to soothe them. Maia was right. Zilas was very young for a Night Elf, everyone knew. The whole reason he had joined their guild was so he could gain insight on the world outside the tree. She bit her lip. Foolish girl.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have let this get to me so much.”

“Yer joking? I would have punched him right in his jaw if he thought he knew better than me on which end of the sword tae hold!” Maia reacted, swinging upwards in a hostile manner. Then she sighed. “I know ye. It be part of yer brilliance tae questions yerself so much. But I trust ye completely, no matter how much you doubt yerself. And so does our guild master, let’s be real honest here. Cuz if he doesn’t, he’s got a problem with me!”

The compliment flustered her. For the first time in the day, Pavlyna smiled. “Thank you. Your support means a lot to me.”

Maia gently patted her back. “We all got our demons. Let’s talk about this properly at the next inn, aye? And I’ll talk to Zilas about this. I got your back.” The wagon had passed them, and it wouldn’t be long before they would see the path leading into Swamp of Sorrows. Despite the rather woeful name, Pavlyna finally felt more at ease. The thoughts that criticized her were still there, but had become a little quieter.

“And I got yours.”