#so if there are any that are more fitting to a) be roosting in caves and b) be in new jersey. lemme know

[batcave-dinosaur]

One fic I've thought about writing for the longest time has been generally about Bruce interacting with the bats in the Batcave. Maybe a couple years in, Bruce starts to think about how his presence in the cave might be disturbing the bat population and seeks advice from experts to fix that, possibly from Kirk Langstrom.

My man finds out about white-nose syndrome and is like Oh Fuck, I gotta quarantine these guys for their own safety so I don't disturb their hibernation over the winter. The rabies possibility is also a consideration. He researches the Milwaukee Protocol and makes note of it in his vast and growing list of contingencies. It may not be considered perfectly effective, but it's also the only way that anyone has ever survived symptomatic rabies. He'd rather it not get that far and notes down contact information for nearest places he can get himself and Alfred vaccinated.

The walls he builds (with doors in case there's ever a need for access) to give the bats a place to roost don't keep all of them out of the main cave space, though. He still finds some occasionally, squeaking and screeching in the stalactites. He makes sure to keep his vehicles and machinery within certain noise levels and pitches so as not to disturb them too much, especially in winter. When he's joined by little Dick Grayson and then others down the line, one of the first things he briefs them on when they first start venturing down into the cave (in the general safety rules presentation) is how to best respect the bats.

I also have this image in my head of Batman consensually kidnapping a willing chiropterologist (bat scientist) to bring to the cave in person (blind-folded and with no idea what route they took). Idk what for necessarily, I just think the image is funny. He goes to them as The Bat-Man and this researcher is feeling a lot of ways but mostly charmed by his autistic rizz and care for these animals. Especially the fact that of course he lives in a fucking cave. Of course he does.

[teojira]

[Sweetheart] [Noa x reader drabble]

Summary: Noa comes to you and asks what a specific nickname means, one that he found in a book

Word count: 850+

Warnings: Noa having feelings for reader and he's once again fighting for his life.

A/N: this SUCKS but it's been in my notes app for far too long and it's almost 1k words that I cannot scrap, this is a weak piece but nonetheless, I hope someone enjoys it!

Noa has been introduced to the term "sweetheart" when digging through some of Raka's stash of books the orangutan had left behind. The Ape had decided to take a trip back to where he first met him to see if there has been more to learn from his late companion. And to this surprise, there was.

Many more books that Raka has deemed fit to be left behind. It was a good thing in hindsight, Noa figured. He could ask you about the words and their meaning, for you to teach him how to read it and comprehend.

The first book he has popped open seemed to be a picture book with very few words, like the one he has seen at the human base.

There were two echoes dancing around one another, seemingingly lost in one another's gaze from what the Eagle clan leader could tell.

'You are my sweetheart.' The script said, interesting. Tucking it into his woven bag, Noa mounted his horse to head back home.

"Echo." Noa murmured, walking slowly from behind you.

You looked peaceful, the orange glow from the fire lighting up your features as you rested, a bowl of berries sat on top of your thighs.

"Welcome home, Noa." The smile you sent him was enough to make the ape trip over nothing. It was embarrassing. It made him feel like a child all over again.

After correcting himself, he eased himself down to your level, crouching to meet you.

"Need your help." Signing with one hand, moving to grab the book from the sling it was fastened in.

Your body subconsciously leans into his space, something you were usually mindful about. But he has been gone for a few days, leaving by himself along with Eagle sun and his horse.

"Why can't I come?" Huffing, you're staring at the back of Noa's head, trying your best to not let the anxiety of him leaving overtake you.

"Too far, might be dangerous." Noa shook his head, moving to strap his spear onto the horse's saddle. He knew if he turned around and looked at you, he'd cave and bring you with.

Don't turn around. Don't turn around. Don't turn. He can't take you, he can't.

The warm hand on his back is enough to make a shudder, his shoulders tense as your small hand ever so gently pats at the fur there.

"...be safe." Your voice sounds small, and only then does he turn to you, taking you in.

"I will."

It was weird being without him, you've grown so used to him being by your side.

You managed just fine despite what your brain would have you believe. You had taken on helping with the eagles in Noa's stead. Feeding, watering, making sure they come to roost at night and securing them.

It did little to keep your mind off of Noa, though. Just making you miss the chimp all the more.

If He had any issue with you in his personal space, it wasn't apparent, letting you cozy up to him.

Leaning a bit further, you peer at what's in his hands.

"Oh! You found a book?"

He hums at you, delicately cracking the small book open, careful with its worn pages to flip to the end where he found the weird name.

"What does-" He points a finger down at the word. "Sweet heart. Mean?"

"It's just an expression, a nickname." Picking up a berry to toss it in your mouth, chewing softly as you watch Noa compute your words.

"...nick..name?" He stutters over the word, raising an eye bridge.

"It's way to call your loved ones a special name. Sweetheart is one of them."

'Do you like it, being called that?' He signs, turning his body to you, taking in just how pretty you look in the fading sunlight, his eyes trained on your lips.

"Well, no one's ever called me any before, so I don't know."

You seem embarrassed, your body immediately going into defensive mode as you curl up.

Noa can change that, he thinks.

You don't think anything of that conversation after a few days past, figuring it was just another one of Noa's questioning about humans.

It isn't until you're grooming the horses, scrubbing at their coat, and ensuring that they're clean that it gets brought up again.

"Sweetheart!" A loud voice all too familiar calls out, making you jump out of your skin and drop the brush in your hands.

Whirling around, you see that it's the Eagle Clan leader himself, making his way towards you with a smile on his lips, his bright eyes trained on yours and he has a extra carrier around his shoulder, no doubt for you.

"Noa?" You're trying your best to fight off the blush that rushes to your cheeks, but it's useless. Hopefully, he thinks it's due to the heat that you're flustered, god willing.

This begins Noa's continuous use of the term. It replaces him calling your name at this point.

Sweetheart this, sweetheart that, for anything you do together, he makes sure to slip it in, loving how you react to it, that you immediately answer to him.

Anaya once tries to call you the nickname, knowing full well that Noa is flirting with you the best way he has learned how but gets shut down instantaneously, Noa playfully putting him in a headlock, huffing as he shakes his best friend.

"My Echo. Mine. Not. Yours."

[irradiated-imp]

RAHI TIME Made Rahi for Okoto Nui, a bunch of them. Including, so far, two re-done Rahi. The Kikanalo, and Nui Rama. Kikanalo Rhino-like Rahi found across most of Okoto Nui. They are most common in Po-Oko and Onu-Oko. They are highly intelligent, and travel in herds led by a Matriarch. It's not uncommon to see some Kikanalo with Matoran. Nui Rama The ever terrifying giant wasps. They live exclusively in the tropical regions of Ga-Oko and Le-Oko, building their gargantuan nests in the towering canopies of the island's jungles.

Ciiwah social parrot-like Rahi. They're found in Le-Oko and Ga-Oko, eating the fruits and nuts found in the trees.

Dhovai Wolves predatory pack hunters. Surprisingly intelligent. Occasionally found tamed by Matoran and Agori. They prefer the forested and mountains regions of Ko-Oko and Onu-Oko.

Guluu Fly large pests that live in humid jungle areas. They often invade Nui-Rama hives. They can be found all over Okoto Nui.

Jet Bat speedy nocturnal rahi. They're large enough to carry Matoran in their feet and are sometimes used for travel. They're mostly found in Onu-Oko, but will readily roost anywhere with extensive caves.

Kalluri massive apex predators found in colder regions. Often found in Ko-Oko and Onu-Oko. The only Rahi that don't fear them are too large to be preyed upon or are equally vicious predators themselves.

Khiiva large aquatic predators. They mostly prey on fish, leaving Matoran alone. They can be found anywhere there's water, but are most commonly sighted in the bays of Ga-Oko.

Rewii common fresh water rahi. Found all over Okoto Nui.

Khawii Ray bottom feeders who bury themselves in the sand to avoid predators. Found in the oceans around Okoto Nui.

Muck Crawler generalist aquatic rahi, capable of traversing land. Common in Ga-Oko, and any areas with substantial waters in Po-Oko.

Kiiku Crab small relatives of the Ussal, they use discarded Kanohi as shells. Often found on beaches all across the island.

Kuu large flightless birds native to the cold mountainous regions of Ko-Oko and Onu-Oko. Often used as beasts of burden.

Mask Apes obnoxious, thieving rahi. They're drawn to the power inside Kanohi and steal them, sometimes straight off a Matoran's face. They're found in the jungles of Ga-Oko and Le-Oko, and the forests of Ko-Oko.

Mud shell common and small Rahi that are found anywhere moisture can be found. They are often kept as pets.

Nhuu highly intelligent desert dwelling omnivores. Opportunistic by nature, they'll eat anything they can come across. They are found exclusively in the Muupar Desert of Po-Oko.

Odhi small curious rahi. They're harmless and are often kept as pets. Can be found all over the island.

Rhekanna towering apex predators found in the deserts of Po-Oko and Ta-Oko. They are feared by all but the largest rahi in their environments.

Tunnel Bug large and docile rahi found in subterranean caverns. Often used by miners to help dig or move stone and ore. Though they are naturally found in the caverns of Onu-Oko and Po-Oko, they are used all across the island in mines.

Guurii small and very temperamental rahi. Tho they may look harmless, their tails hit with a shocking amount of forced, able to dent or crack matoran armor. They're found in Onu-Oko, Po-Oko, and Ta-Oko.

Murk Lurker powerful, semi-aquatic predators. They'll eat anything they can fit in their mouths and are highly aggressive. They can be found in almost any body of water on the island, but are msot common in swamps in Le-Oko or Ga-Oko.

Nui Crab large relatives of the Ussal. They like to eat Spike shell Fruit, a large non explosive type of thornax. Some have been tamed by matoran and had their pinchers modified into drills. They are naturally found in Ga-Oko, living on the beaches and in the bays of the region.

Rhukuu small and social scavengers. They live in the forests of Ko-Oko and are close relatives of the much larger and much more aggressive Tarakava.

Tuki skittish and speedy birds. Though they are capable of flight, they are most often seen zipping about on their wheels. They can be found all over Okoto-Nui.

Ihlu large, highly intelligent Rahi that dwell in many areas across Okoto Nui. They travel in pairs, and although they are not immediately hostile, travelers are advised to be cautious in their presence.

Lhokaan massive Predatory birds that plague Okoto-Nui's mountains in Ko-Oko and Onu-Oko. Many Rahi, and even Matoran and Agori, often fall prey to them.

Sentinel Hound dog-like rahi often kept as pets or used as guard animals. They aren't found in the wild naturally, and 'breeders' keep Rahi Canisters on hand to grow more when needed.

Puafa large beetle-like Rahi that live in the swamps of Ga-Oko. They're aggressive and predatory. Though typically solitary, there have been instances of multiple Puafa working together to take down larger prey. They often fall prey to Murk Lurkers. Rahi Canisters In the case of the Makuta being unable to producem ore Rahi for one reason or another, many Makuta allowed their Rahi creations to reproduce on their own. Under the right circumstances, a Rahi is able to produce a Rahi Canister, small pods that function similarly to eggs or cocoons. Once a canister has been placed, it grows to a certain size, and the Rahi begin to dump materials, ideally protodermis of some sort, into the canister. The canister then reassembles the materials into a smaller member of the Rahi species. Most canisters are one use only and produce a single Rahi, some however produce more. For instance, Nui Rama hives have entire swathes of canisters that produce new Nui Rama as the swarm needs them.

[luminnara]

Goddamn, Shit-Sucking Vampires | lost boys x oc 18+ ONLY | Ch 3

Summary: Vera is an unusually vicious bloodsucker who's never stuck in one place for very long...until a mysterious feeling pulls her right to the murder capital of the world: Santa Carla, California. Now, she needs to figure out why exactly she's there, where she fits in amongst the boardwalk's nighttime denizens, and how to cope with her own personal vampire-related problems.

Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Taglist: @ilikechocolatemilkh​

Warnings: smutty smut, language, blood

“Hello, darling.”

He had been quick to take her lips with his, kissing her hungrily as she moved to straddle his lap. Before they could get too comfortable, he stood, carrying her in the direction the others had gone but stopping in a room along the way. It had been a hotel room once, a bed covered in silks like the ones from the main cavern still sitting in the middle. 

He tossed her down onto it, watching as she stretched out on her back languidly. She was so inviting. A low rumble rose in his chest as he took his coat off, leaving it on the floor with his boots and gloves. All he could pay attention to was her bare midriff and those exposed thighs, her crop top and short shorts barely leaving anything to his imagination. She sat up and shrugged her vest off, throwing it to the floor as she held eye contact with him. She was smiling the way someone did when they were keeping a juicy secret, a glint of something in her eyes as she leaned forward. 

“David,” she purred, beckoning for him with her fingers. “Come and take care of me.”

He happily crossed the space between them, crawling over her until he could kiss her again. Her hands slid up his forearms, feeling his cool skin and the muscles underneath it. He pushed her back down and she complied, biting sharply at her bottom lip.

“I want you, Vera,” he growled, sending warmth spreading through her core. 

She moaned, hands moving to his waist, slipping under his shirt. “Then take me.”

He couldn’t help himself. His hips met hers, his arousal grinding against her. He wanted her to feel what she did to him, to have some tiny inkling of what it was like to see and smell and feel her. 

“You do horrible things to me,” he breathed.

Her nails were sharp against his skin as she lightly scratched down his sides. “You can handle it.”

Chills ran down his spine and he laughed, the little grumble returning to his chest as he pinned her against the bed with his weight. “You’re mine.”

Vera watched as his face vamped out, eyes blazing yellow-orange as he snarled above her. She shivered in delight, a smile on her lips as his claws tore through her shirt and raked down her belly, ugly red marks fading almost as quickly as they appeared.

“You like it rough?” She teased, moving her knees to either side of his hips. 

With a playful snarl, he bit at her collarbone, earning a squeal. “I like it however I want.”

Vera gave a little growl and reached for his pants, tugging them open and slipping her hand in to feel him. His breathing grew heavier as he pressed his hips against her touch, desperately searching for more contact. 

“A little eager, aren’t we?” She teased, giving him a squeeze. 

“I can smell how wet you are,” his voice was husky, hand trailing down to reach her shorts. “Do you want something?”

She whined as he ripped her clothing, but she couldn’t be angry with him on top of her, nor could she be angry when he was pushing a finger inside of her. She let out the most delicious noise David had ever heard, her back arching as he pressed up into her. It had been long, far too long since she had had this.

“What was that?” He asked, twisting his hand.

She did it again, but louder, and he decided it was his favorite thing in the entire world. 

“You’re awful,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer. 

He smirked as he explored her, feeling wherever he pleased, playing with her as she moaned and squealed on top of the sheets. He learned what spots made her make which noises, and he watched as she snarled and sneered and taunted him. She was feisty, clawing at him as she urged him to get on with it, reaching up to kiss him whenever she had the ability to do so. 

It wasn’t until he made her orgasm that she vamped out, but when she did, she really did. She hissed and growled at him, becoming a wildcat that he was more than happy to subdue. He was losing control of himself as it was, chest heaving as he looked down at the most beautiful sight he had ever had the privilege of seeing. The swell of her breasts, the welts that formed and quickly disappeared whenever he bit at her boobs, the creamy, soft, gorgeous skin that he wanted to kiss and suck and maul all at the same time...it was perfect, and so was her muscular stomach, toned by so many years of being an apex predator, and so was her thick ass, and her thighs, and…

All of her. 

When he kicked his pants off and finally got to hear her cry his name, he thought he was going to lose it then and there. She felt perfect, clinging to him with her nails in his back and her fangs in his shoulder as she sobbed and snarled against his skin. She writhed beneath him, twisting and constantly trying to flip them so that she could top him. Whenever he felt her tense up as if she was about to, he would thrust into her harder, making her forget that she ever wanted to be anywhere but underneath her new mate. 

Until he finally relented and let her twist her hips, and then he realized he was absolutely fine with letting her call the shots.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” She crooned, leaning down to kiss him. Her voice was raspy when she was fully vamped out, a monstrous, snarly, beautifully sweet kind of voice that mesmerized David and left him in a haze. 

He only grunted in response, hands gripping her hips as she rode him. His eyes were glued to her as he took in the way she looked, her black hair a mess, her generous, perfect breasts bouncing slightly. He slid his hands up to cup them, squeezing and kneading and grinning when she bit her lip.

Blood ran down her chin, dripping down onto David’s chest. When he pulled her down to kiss her and get a taste, he bit her sharply, grinning when she squealed. She was funny, and delightful, and beautiful, and he had never felt that way about any girl he had fucked. There were beautiful ones, yes, but none like her. No one that he wanted to keep around. 

He knew it was all because of his hormones, ancient vampire instincts that were urging him to make Vera his and impress her enough that she stayed. He didn’t know why he was so concerned with what she thought, especially because she seemed pretty content, based on her whines and moans, but he had the need to do everything in his power to show that he was worthy of her time. 

They rolled again, David still sucking at Vera’s lip. She resisted a tiny bit, stubbornly locking her hips and thighs in an attempt to brace herself against him, but as he rolled his hips forward, she relaxed into a puddle of happy moans. When he felt her nails digging into his back, he knew she was close, and he was more than happy to suck at her neck while she said his name over and over and over. 

He buried himself deep into her when he finally came, grunting and whispering “Fuck, Vera…” in her ear until he finished and pulled back, panting as he looked down at her. She was a mess, black hair splayed across the bed, blood running from her lip and throat. 

With a smirk, David hooked his hand under her knee and brought it up for him to kiss, leaning his head against it as he watched her. “You’re beautiful.”

She opened her eyes, smiling and showing her bloody teeth. “Come here, big guy.” 

David happily complied, releasing her leg and flopping down next to her. He didn’t bother looking for either of their clothes and just wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her up against him. He would have preferred to go roost with the others, but she was already dozing off in his arms, and who was he to try to make her move? 

“Vera?” He asked, deep voice rumbling as she tucked her head in his chest.

“Hm?” She grunted sleepily.

He could tell she was barely awake, and his own eyelids were drooping as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Stay. Forever.”

“Mhm,” she mumbled, snuggling as close to him as she could get. 

David made a pleased sound, not unlike a purr, and busied himself by playing with her hair until he passed out, surrounded by her scent, happier than he had been in a long time. 

-0-

Paul woke up slightly warmer than usual, which was odd, considering how generally cool the sunken hotel was. His mind was heavy and fuzzy, but it felt warm, too, and when he finally forced his eyes open, he figured out why.

“Marko,” he slurred. “The hell you doin’?”

The smaller vampire only grunted and snuggled closer. 

Paul sighed, but he really didn’t mind. It wasn’t the first time he had woken up to find Marko cuddling up to him. Sometimes, if he was a little drunk or high, Paul would even initiate it. David would rarely tolerate any kind of physical closeness, but if he was in a good mood, he allowed them to roost right up next to him. Dwayne was similar, rarely starting anything, but unlike their leader, he tended to growl and complain a lot less if Marko wanted some snuggle time. 

With a yawn, Paul shook himself lightly, sleepily looking around the cave. Marko had tucked himself right up under Paul’s chin, already fast asleep again, and Dwayne was hanging nearby, arms crossed over his chest as he snored softly. David was absent, and Paul cracked a smile when he remembered why. 

He searched for David’s mind and found him still fast asleep, but...happy. He could pick up the faintest scent of sex lingering in the air and it made his mouth water, hunger pains suddenly shooting through him. His turn with Vera would be soon, but he didn’t know if he could bear the wait. 

A little growl rose in his throat. He wanted her. He hated that David got to have her first, when he deserved her more. Paul was usually a pretty relaxed guy, preferring to get high and fool around than do anything serious, but when it came to this...he was feeling oddly savage about it. He would probably never openly defy David, who always looked out for all of the boys and proved himself to be a good leader over and over, but Vera was making him anxious. The more he woke up, the more restless he grew, until he finally gave Marko a little shove and disentangled himself from his clingy brother. 

Marko whined in protest as Paul dropped to the ground, dropping down after him just seconds later. “What’s the big deal?”

“I wanna go check on our new girl, bro,” Paul said, grinning as he dusted his sleeves off. “David’s had her all to himself long enough.”

Marko followed him out into the corridor, drooling slightly as the scents of Vera and sex grew stronger and stronger. “Smells like they had fun.”

“Too much fun,” Paul growled as they stopped in the doorway. 

The bed was a mess, sheets and silks torn to shreds. The pillows had somehow survived, and the old bed frame was still holding up, and both Paul and Marko made notes to themselves to change those when they got the chance. In the midst of it all, though, was a sight that made them hum happily; Vera was curled up on her side, perfectly happy and perfectly naked, tucked safely up against David. 

“Fuck off,” he growled sleepily when he noticed them standing there.

They only inched forward, Paul daring to venture further into the room while Marko hung back behind him. “You look a little exposed there, David. Why not take a break from guarding our little chickadee to go find some pants?”

The loud snarl that tore through David’s throat was enough to wake Vera, and she squirmed and whined in protest. Paul immediately turned his attention to her, bravely crossing the room and going so far as to lean over the foot of the bed, but David’s warning grumbles were enough to keep him from touching the female. 

Vera was finally opening her eyes to take in the scene around her when David pulled her up against him. She gave a little growl and pushed him away, struggling to prop herself up on her elbow so that she could reach out to Paul. David was being selfish, and she was already getting the feeling that all four of them were going to be almost impossible to handle. 

“C’mere,” she said tiredly, smiling and cupping Paul’s cheek when he rushed forward and leaned over her. 

David huffed.

“You shush,” Vera snapped at him. 

Marko snickered as he came up behind Paul, hoping to get some of the sugar that Vera was dishing out. David let out a dramatic sigh, sitting up and pulling Vera up against his chest while she cooed and taunted Paul, talking to him as if he were a dog while he just beamed at her adoringly. 

“What a good boy you are,” she laughed as she pinched his cheeks. “Not at all snarly like that mean old David…”

Paul growled happily. If he had a tail, it would be wagging, and David rolled his eyes at the display. Instead of saying anything snarky, though, he just nipped at the back of Vera’s neck, hands sliding around her sides to rest on her belly. He was feeling mellower now that he could wrap himself around her, and when he caught Marko creeping up around Paul, he didn’t even growl. 

“And of course, poor Marko, so ignored,” Vera giggled as she pulled him forward to kiss his nose. He and Paul were practically melting over her, happy hums and purrs filling the room. 

“Good evening,” Marko said slyly as he nuzzled his cheek against Vera’s. 

“Good evening, my little cherub,” Vera cooed, kissing his nose again and smiling when he scrunched it up. He was a mischievous little thing, but she was getting the feeling that he had to have a nasty streak, too; that sweet face and excited grin were both too innocent for him not to be hiding an ugly side. 

“I’m starving,” David mumbled, leaning his chin on top of Vera’s head. Vera had almost worn him out, since she had woken up sometime in the middle of the day and demanded more from him. He had happily obliged, of course, but now he was hungry, and whenever David was hungry, David was irritated. 

“You go get food, and I’ll stay here with—“

“You’re coming too, Paul.”

“But it’s my—“

“I would love a night on the boardwalk,” Vera interrupted, detangling herself from what was becoming a puddle of happy vampires. Marko let out a little whine as she slipped past him and began searching for her clothes, but Paul managed to grab her around the waist and scoop her up, one hand on her ass, the other on her back as he held her.

“Who says you need clothes?” He growled playfully, nipping at her cheek. 

She gave a little squeak as she struggled against him. “I do!”

“I disagree,” Marko said slyly, slipping up behind her and kissing the back of her neck. 

She swatted him away, wiggling out of Paul’s grip to search the floor and find whatever clothes she could still salvage. David had ripped a fair amount of them, but he had also been kind enough to bring her small backpack in sometime during the day, so she was at least left with one outfit. 

Paul and Marko watched as she got dressed, Marko biting his thumb in an attempt to keep himself under control. She made him hungry, in a way he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t the same as bloodlust or even normal human cravings; it was something else entirely, but it still made him ache and whine and wish that he could make it go away already. 

Vera pulled on a thong and a ratty pair of denim shorts, turning her back to the boys as she grabbed a bra and a tank top. They all had a good view of the tattoos on her back, snakes winding around skulls and portraits of women that were brightly colored and beautiful. Marko wanted to trace them, with either his fingers or his tongue, he wasn’t picky. Not very many girls around Santa Carla were marked up the way she was, and all he could think of when he looked at her was how she was such a work of art.

“Finished staring?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder. 

Paul slid up next to her, an arm around her waist. “Never, dollface.”

Vera huffed but settled in against his side. “I need more clothes. You guys got any cash?”

“Now that,” Paul spun them to face David, who was pulling his coat on, “is a question for papa bear over here.”

David gave a little growl, but reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash as he strode towards them. “Anything for the lady.”

Vera reached for it but he snatched it away, shoving it back in his pocket. She gave a little growl but followed at his heels as he left the room, Marko and Paul running along behind. They collected Dwayne as he was leaving their roost, and Vera was surprised when she caught his nostrils flaring and a quiet rumble rising in his chest. David smirked at his brother, lighting a cigarette as Laddie and Star met them in the main room. 

Vera looped her arm through David’s when she saw Star, trying to remain civil. The Halfling put her off somehow, and it wasn’t just because she was so ungrateful for the offer of immortality she kept stubbornly avoiding. There was something else that was just pissing Vera off, something about the way Star moped and so clearly hated the people that gave her a safe place to sleep and protection from the rest of the world. She almost seemed dangerous, as silly as that thought was; she wasn’t physically strong enough to do anything on her own, but the fact that she was so vocal about her displeasure made Vera suspicious that she might just be capable of betrayal.

Or maybe she was just being paranoid. 

“Chin up, girl,” Paul mocked. 

Star only scowled, following them out to the bikes. She climbed on behind David when Vera strutted past her to accept Paul’s outstretched hand, grimacing but remaining silent after Vera shot her a little snarl. 

Paul and Marko hooted with laughter as Vera climbed on and sat haughtily behind the former, unable to shake the unsettling feeling that Star was giving her. There was no logical reason for it; Star was only a Halfling, hardly anything to worry about. She had a fraction of Vera’s strength and none of her survival instincts, and should they ever face off, it would be a quick fight. All of that only made Vera more uneasy, but try as she might, she couldn’t figure out why. 

“Cheer up!” Paul shouted as his bike roared to life. 

“I’ll cheer up when I’m dead,” Vera teased, leaning up to kiss the side of his neck. 

A little jolt of electricity shot through him and he whooped, the bike tearing off in the direction of the boardwalk, Marko close behind. 

-0-

“Marko, be a dear and get me a lemonade?” Vera purred, leaning forward and brushing her fingers along his jaw. 

Marko shivered but grinned, catching her hand to kiss her palm before bouncing off in the direction of the lemonade stand. 

Vera smiled and sat back, hands clasped in her lap as she watched the crowd. There really were all types in Santa Carla, and she was surprised to find that she felt like she was beginning to fit in. 

Paul threw an arm around her waist as he leaned back against the rail she sat on, a joint in his other hand. The boardwalk had little in the way of law enforcement, thanks to the Lost Boys themselves taking officers out whenever they irritated them, so Paul was left to smoke his weed in peace for the most part. “So whaddya think, babe? Enjoying the nightlife?”

“I can get used to it.” She took a deep inhale and her smile widened at all of the scents the boardwalk was offering her. “I’m starving.”

David raised an eyebrow from where he was leaning on his bike. “Already?”

“Yes,” she shot back defensively.

“We just snacked,” Paul laughed. 

“And? I only had one boy.”

“You’re insatiable.” David said with the hint of a chuckle. Honestly, he was sort of glad that she was so much hungrier than he was. He was used to feeling annoyed at himself about it, but now he could just direct all of those thoughts towards teasing her.

Vera snorted angrily. “So? Don’t you know it’s rude to comment on a lady’s eating habits?”

“Just find it strange, considering how old you are.”

She growled. “It’s also rude to comment on a lady’s age, dickweed.”

He smirked in reply and she narrowed her eyes. She could care less about the age comment, because he was right; she wasn’t a newborn, by any means. She shouldn’t have such an unquenchable thirst for blood at this point. The boys all seemed content with one good meal a night, but she had already dragged one Surf Nazi into an alley and was on the lookout for another. 

It sure wasn’t normal, and she knew it. 

Dwayne was on her other side, leaning on the railing with his arms folded over his chest. He cast a glance towards her when he heard her huff and found that he couldn’t look away, and suddenly, he was busy memorizing every single detail about her face. 

She was beautiful, and he understood why the others liked her so much. Her lips were full and her complexion seemed like it was olive at some point before she became a creature of the night. Arched eyebrows furrowed when she narrowed those hazel eyes, a classical nose scrunching with displeasure. She had tied her hair up on top of her head, leaving her throat exposed in what could have been some sort of a dare, and Dwayne had to stop himself from leaning in and taking a bite. 

Maybe being patient was going to be harder than he thought. 

“One lemonade, for the lady,” Marko snickered as he shoved his way back through the crowd, lemonade in hand. He had heard their little discussion, and as he brought Vera her drink, he made a point of kissing her cheek. You know, like a gentleman would. 

“You little kiss ass,” Paul grumbled as Vera took the lemonade with a smile. 

Marko just winked and settled himself between Vera’s legs, a hand on each thigh as he grinned up at her. 

“Thank you, Marko,” she drawled, tangling her free hand in his curls affectionately. 

Paul only rolled his eyes and looked the other direction.

David watched them with amusement. They had been there for half an hour, just looking at the crowds while Star was off somewhere with Laddie. He could feel Max nudging at his mind, as he had been for the past hour, and finally, he gave a little snarl and let him in.

What? He snapped. 

I want to meet her, David. His sire answered. Bring her to me.

He couldn’t help but growl. After.

After what, exactly?

After everyone has had their chance. 

David felt him let out an irritated sigh, but he was going to stand his ground. Vera was making him cautious, and he wasn’t going to introduce her to the most powerful vampire he knew until they figured out just who all exactly she was destined to belong with. It was hard enough wrangling his pack without having to worry about Max butting in. 

Paul and Marko were fooling around and Vera was leaning against Dwayne when she was finally fed up enough to hop down from the railing. David raised an eyebrow at her when she put her hands on her hips and flared her nostrils in a not so subtle attempt to track down some food. 

“I’m hungry,” she declared, cocking her hip to one side as she glared at David.

“Why am I the subject of your wrath?” He quipped, waving her away dismissively. “Go find a snack if you’re so starved.”

Vera growled at his tone, but she was too hungry to try to challenge him. She wasn’t even sure where she was falling on their totem pole, and she had better things to do with her time than stand there and try to figure it out. 

“We’ll keep an eye on things.” David said with a glint in his eyes that revealed how much he enjoyed riling her up. 

Vera’s nasty snarl turned into a grin as she reached up to let her hair down, hips swaying as she disappeared into the crowd to find a boy stupid enough to go after her. 

“Is it a good idea to let her run off like that?” Marko asked, watching her go. 

“Max won’t bother her.” David straightened up. “And besides, she needs some enrichment.”

“You talk like she’s a zoo animal,” Dwayne snorted. “She doesn’t need time to play.”

“You’re right.” David smirked as he started off in the direction Vera had gone. “She needs to hunt.”

[valhahazred]

Cryptid Mythos - Strange Saurians

Living fossils and dinosaur-like monsters are a popular subject of cryptozoology. What sothic truths might an Investigator uncover when looking into such beasts?

6th in a series comparing the monsters of modern folklore to the creatures of the Cthulhu Mythos.

The Telepathic Thing

Two boys from Villa San Rafael in Calama, Chile had a very strange encounter with a seemingly unique creature while searching for a missing pet snake in 2002. While they first thought it to be a stray dog and armed themselves with rocks to drive it away, it proved to be a bizarre monster with an array of seemingly psychic powers! First the boys began to feel sick, as though they had been struck in the stomach by an electric bolt. While one boy immediately started to retreat, the other claimed he felt unnaturally compelled to approach the creature. When he came within six feet it lit up with a luminous aura and he felt a telepathic voice demand, “don’t stare, just run away”. He felt an immediate and inexplicable bone-chilling cold and both boys decided it was time to run.

While it is not explicitly described as a dinosaur I am interpreting it here as a highly evolved theropod, with a covering of grey fur-like feathers and a bony crest it uses to focus its psychic power.

Stoa

This dinosaur-like animal was one of the many south american cryptids reported by english explorer Percy Fawcett before he went missing on an expedition to the Lost City of Z. The legend goes that he even described his encounters with it to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, inspiring him to write The Lost World. The other main source of information on the Stoa comes from a Scottish gold prospector who goes by the pseudonym 'Reginald Riggs' and relayed it to Czech cryptozoologist Jaroslav Mareš. The Stoa is said to look something like a bipedal caiman, with nearly non-existent forelimbs and a head like a horned frog. It lives exclusively on the plateaus around Mt Kurupira, where it hunts Tapir, Capybara and the local Waiká people.

4 Corners River Dinos

Investigator Nick Sucik has compiled a surprisingly large number of sightings of small, fast bipedal reptiles in the area of the San Juan River Basin. They are described as looking like a “living dinosaur toy” or like “a Jurassic Park flashback”. Their environment seems to be wet environments and riverbanks in particular, hence “River Dinos”.

The sceptical view is fairly simple, that people are seeing ordinary lizards running on their hind legs.

Van Meter Visitor

In 1903 Van Meter was visited by what was called at the time, an “antediluvian devil”. The being was first witnessed roosting on an electrical pole, where it was mistaken for a spotlight on account of its brightly glowing head. Although it’s usually depicted as a pterosaur, some of the witnesses implied that it had four limbs in addition to its wings. If that is accurate it may have actually had a more gargoyle-like body, ruling out any form of terrestrial life. This poor creature was met with extreme hostility at every turn, as the inhabitants of Van Meter opened fire at nearly every sighting and its only recourse was flashing lights and an overwhelming stink. Thankfully it seemed to be unbothered by the gunfire. An armed posse even tracked the Visitor to the local coal mine and confronted a pair of the beings, showering them in lead to no effect as they slowly retreated back into the mine. They were never seen again. Were they surviving dinosaurs that simply moved into the caves to die? Or had the coal miners dug too deep and unleashed paranormal entities from an ultraterrestrial hollow earth realm? There was an alleged plaster cast made of the Visitor’s three toed prints but it does not appear to have survived to be documented.

The Mokele Mbembe

Not only is the Mokele Mbembe the best known of the “living fossil” type of cryptid, it’s one of the most famous cryptids of all. Modern witnesses describe a pygmy semi-aquatic sauropod straight out of a slightly outdated paleoart reconstruction but it was once a slightly stranger beast. The first western account claimed that it had a horn and some other descriptions have thick overlapping scales, dragon-like frills or the whattles of a chicken. While it is a herbivore, it is also supposed to be violently territorial and kills any hippos, elephants or humans that cross its path. Its flesh is very poisonous and anyone who tries the flesh of the Mokele Mbembe dies. While it is widely accepted to be a relic saurian there are various theories otherwise, such as the Mokele Mbembe being a large snake, a long necked relative of the hippo or even a large species of pangolin.

The Ropen

The Ropen is described as a massive flying creature similar to a chimerical pterosaur, with tight reptilian skin, boney wings and a long tail ending in a diamond shaped fin. It’s most recognizable feature is glowing spots on its belly and wings. Supposedly they use the lights to attract fish as they skim overhead. Fish isn’t their only food source as they are also frequent scavengers and even dig up cemeteries for human corpses. Ropen are not the only pterosaur like creatures claimed to live in the area. There are also the Kor, cave dwellers that use their long tails as maces and the Solomon Islands Dragon Snakes, that reportedly spit searing lights! There is even some confusion on the Ropen’s exact identity, with the massive 20 foot wingspan and bony crest possibly belonging to a creature called the Duah, while the Ropen itself would be a much more modest 3 foot Rhamphyrincus like animal. It’s worth mentioning that most Ropen sightings are of unusual lights in the sky and not of any visible creature. Even the original sighting by entomologist Evelyn Cheesman in the 1930s only described the lights and lasted for a short 4 or 5 seconds. It was not until much later that the lights were connected to any sort of pterosaur.

In the Mythos

Thanks to Yith stasis vaults and domesticated populations sheltered by ancient species, pre-KPG-extinction megafauna survived much closer to the modern day than they would have otherwise. To the Empires of Valusia they were the Xinli, serving as mounts and hunting companions. Dinosaurs were also known to the ancient people of Mhu Thulan until the Greenland Ice sheet wiped them from the surface of the Earth. But beneath, in the depths of Voormithadreth the Root Archtypes still mimic Saurian forms. Our best bet for living dinosaurs are the dragons of Thuria and they may have even survived into the days where it was called Africa. But that would be too easy for our poor cryptozoologist Investigators.

Hagarg Ryonis

The Great Ones of the Dreamlands generally appear as beautiful humans but there are those known for stranger shapes. Hagarg Ryonis is one such Great One. She has few cults of her own and is usually depicted as a horrifying predatory reptilian monster called “The Lier-In-Wait”. Amongst the Great Ones she serves as the goddess of murder, hunting those who would show offence to the gods of the Dreamlands. The Great Ones rarely have any interest in the waking lands, where their powers wane. However, should a Dreamer earn their enmity the small gods might follow them to a world where their own powers of creation and dream-logic are likewise stunted. Investigators might be contacted by an old friend, sounding exhausted and desperate. They’re a Dreamer of course but lately Dreaming has become too dangerous after the Great Ones began to hound them. They’d been trying to stay awake to avoid them but obviously that can’t go on forever. Even worse, something seems to have followed them to the waking world. They’ve seen glimpses of something huge and scaley in the woods near their home. When they fled into the city it began to appear there too, lurking in alleys and perched on rooftops. Can the Investigators help their friend find a way to make recompense before the inevitable happens and they pass out and are forced to face the Great Ones? Or will a far grislier fate come to pass, as the Lier’s patience comes to an end?

Y’nathogguan Necrotech

The Y’nathogg were never the biggest players in Earth’s history. Always crowded by the Progenitors and pushed back by the paranoid Yith’s exclusion zones. While their necrobiology was robust and adaptable it could not stand up to the sheer power of the Shoggoth and the Star Spawn. They felt like their own planet had no place for them. Then came Quyagen. It wielded the Eye of Zyslm and promised them an opportunity to fight, to take what was rightfully theirs. The Eye brought ruin to their enemies, a mighty weapon and an amplifier for the abattoir foundries of necrotech. Cakatomia was theirs for the taking. But Quyagen underestimated the Yith and the future secrets they bore. The great Cyclopean was sealed away, just as the Polypous Ones were millenia ago. Without the Eye the war that followed was short and brutal. The remaining Y’nathogg retreated to the borehole prison of Quyagen. They cultivated the frozen god’s tissues and made themselves cocoons with which to wait out the aeons, until a time when they would be free to rule without competition. Now Quyagen stirs. The Y’nathogg awaken. The abattoirs pulse with unlife. The time of Quy has come at last!

Byakhee

It’s an interesting coincidence that many of the so-called living pterosaurs are said to produce light in various ways. The Ropen and its cousins glow with bioluminescence, the Van Meter Visitor shines its horn and the Thunderbird (if it is a giant pterosaur) might be able to flash like lightning. The humble Byakhee, with its boney body, leathery skin and bat-like wings, all shining with the light of Carcosa fits the description to a tittle!

Dragons of Yoth

The serpent diaspora started in Yoth. Deep beneath the earth they found Tsathoggua, the lord of N’kai and some of the serpents decided to follow his sorcerous tutelage instead of their maker’s. Yig grew jealous and with the cooperation of his faithful the followers of the bat-toad god were cursed to degeneration. They became worms of the earth, pitiable things that would never slither in the light of the sun again. However, before Tsathoggua left for Voormithadreth to visit revenge on Yig he offered a choice. The worms could continue as they were or they could bathe in the pools of Formless Spawn and be reborn in a greater form. Snake Handling has never been the most accepted religious practice but when six people, including the pastor, at the High-Way Gospel Church die of unusually potent snake venom during a ritual it tends to raise suspicion. When Old Woodrow claimed it was revenge for one of the deceased shooting at a “dinosaur” out in the desert it was laughed off. But now, three sightings and another horribly necrotized corpse later, maybe it isn’t so funny.

<コ:彡 <コ:彡 <コ:彡 <コ:彡 <コ:彡 <コ:彡 <コ:彡 <コ:彡 <コ:彡 <コ:彡

I have to admit that I think “Living Fossils” are among the least believable of all cryptids. They have all the usual problems while also being chimerical and inaccurate versions of things that we know existed. The african ones in particular have the stink of the Great White Hunter all over them, tall tales to sell books of derring-do in Darkest Africa. The Telepathic Thing is better known as the Telepathic Football but that name is dumb and I’m changing it

[nightofthemeteor]

Modern AU/Mythology AU

(Also here on AO3)

They were children when they met. They had to have been children, for if they had met as adults, they would have known too much, and their meeting would have been very different.

It happened on an awful, stormy day in early spring, and it began with Hashirama huddled and miserable in a cave. Even at fourteen, Hashirama knew the mountain as well as he knew his own family – he wouldn’t have ventured out this far into the forest if there had been any chance of a storm like this. And yet, despite the season, there was a blizzard raging outside. It was a tengu wind, Hashirama knew; only a tengu wind could rise so suddenly and sting so badly. He was lucky he’d been able to take shelter in this cave, but now he was trapped without warm clothing or the tools to make a fire. Curled into a ball with his arms around his knees, Hashirama had no choice but to wait out the storm, and eventually shivered himself into a fitful sleep.

When he awoke, the cave was dark, and he was wonderfully, deliciously warm. Hashirama wondered for a moment if he’d frozen to death, and this was the moment before his new reincarnation. But, no – he could still feel the rocky floor of the cave where he’d gone to sleep digging uncomfortably into his legs. He was warm because he was wrapped in something, something soft…something that was moving, gently and rhythmically, as if it were breathing. Hashirama reached out a tentative hand and felt soft feathers beneath his fingertips.

His breath caught in his throat. The tengu – for that was what the creature curled around Hashirama had to be – shifted around him with a whisper of feathers. And then, in the darkness, Hashirama found himself staring into a single, glowing red eye.

Hashirama’s insides had turned to ice, but he still retained enough of his wits to remember to be polite. “Hello, Tengu-sama,” he whispered to the eye.

The eye blinked.

Feeling a little encouraged, Hashirama said, “Thank you for protecting me from your storm.”

This got an affronted shuffling of feathers; Hashirama backtracked. “Not your storm?” Another blink – acknowledgement, Hashirama imagined. “Ah, I see. You’re stuck in here, too.” The tengu didn’t react to that, which Hashirama took to mean he’d guessed right. Without thinking, he ran his fingers through the feathers under his hand and was surprised when the tengu leaned against him, like a cat asking for more scratches. “Well,” he said, “Thank you for keeping me company. At least we can wait out the storm together.”

The eye disappeared; the tengu shifted position again, tucking its head back under its wing, or so Hashirama imagined. Hashirama knew he should take this chance and run – tengu were dangerous and unpredictable, wild spirits of the mountains, and there was no telling what this one might do to him – but the blizzard was still howling outside, and at least in here it was warm. Seeing no better option, Hashirama leaned back against his new, feathery companion, closed his eyes, and drifted back to sleep.

When he woke again, the cave was lit with sunlight, and the tengu was gone.

---

Madara wasn’t exactly sure why he bothered to find the human again. He was already sliding dangerously in the direction of his father’s bad side – that blizzard had been a nasty reprimand, with Madara still too young to control his powers well enough to fight back. Now that his flight feathers had grown in, Madara had found he wasn’t terribly interested in the clan politics he was supposed to be learning. His father’s world was full of restrictions: don’t use any of your powers without permission; don’t question your elders; and, most importantly of all, don’t come into contact with humans. And that, perhaps, was why Madara let himself slide out of the shadows of the trees and into view of the young human.

The boy in front of him tensed, reaching instinctively for an arrow; Madara prepared himself to fight, but the human relaxed and lowered his bow. “Tengu-sama,” he said, and smiled.

Madara looked down at himself in confusion. “How did you know?” He’d appeared in human form – had he made a mistake somewhere? But no: his purple robe was a perfectly normal style for a human, and on his head was definitely spiky black hair, not feathers.

The human boy in front of him shrugged. “I don’t know – you just sort of…feel the same?”

“That’s weird,” Madara informed him.

To Madara’s surprise, the boy sighed deeply. “I knew it,” he said, utterly dejected. “I must really be a freak if even a spirit thinks I’m weird.”

“Wait – that’s not what I – ” Madara stuttered to a halt, realizing that the boy wasn’t distraught at all – he was laughing at him from under those bangs. “Hey, what do you mean ‘even a spirit’?!”

The human raised his head to reveal a smug, aggravating smile. “Are you really my age?” he asked cheerfully. “To think I was so scared of you!”

Madara drew on the shadows around him, forming the shape of massive, ever-shifting wings to tower over his back, and let his black human eyes flash red. “You should be afraid of me!” he hissed.

The human’s eyes widened in awe, but to Madara’s chagrin, he watched this show of power without the least sign of fear. “Wow!” he said to the writhing mass of shadow. “What’s your name? Mine’s Hashirama!”

Madara sighed, content for the moment to at least have impressed the human – Hashirama – and let himself shrink back to his still-unfamiliar human form. “You can call me Madara,” he said.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Madara,” said Hashirama, and dipped his head in a clumsy bow.

“Hmph.” Madara crossed his arms, trying not to show that he was pleased. “So, Hashirama, what are you doing this far into the forest?”

“Looking for mushrooms!” Hashirama replied, with more excitement than this answer really warranted. “I know I saw some good ones around here the other day.”

“You’re lucky you’re with a tengu, then. I know this forest better than any human.”

“Oh, is that so!”

As the two of them left to walk together through the forest, neither of them noticed the tiny seedlings that sprung to life in Hashirama’s footsteps.

---

When Hashirama was nineteen, a beautiful young woman with fiery red hair came to his town.

“She’s definitely interested in you,” he was informed by his little brother, Tobirama, with a healthy amount of disdain.

“Can you at least pretend to stay out of my business?” Hashirama snapped back, uncharacteristically annoyed. If he was honest with himself, he had mixed feelings about Tobirama’s analysis. If anyone had asked him half a year ago if he would like a gorgeous woman to mysteriously arrive out of nowhere and fall in love with him, he would have offered his right hand to make it happen – but although Hashirama had always been a bit of a romantic, lately his thoughts on that score had turned in a…different direction.

But that was only half of the problem. Though nobody else had seemed to notice, Hashirama had realized right away that there was something different about the woman calling herself Mito.

“You’re not entirely human, are you?” he asked her, the next time they were alone together. Hashirama had always been in favour of the direct approach.

She stopped in the action of brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, and carefully withdrew her hand, looking at him with sharp, bright eyes. “You’re perceptive,” she said. “I should have anticipated that.”

“I have some experience with shapeshifters,” Hashirama told her, a little ruefully. “But I don’t think I’ve met one like you…?” He made the end of his statement into a question, hoping she would answer.

“Can’t you guess?” she asked playfully. At Hashirama’s flat look, she said, “Come on. A girl can’t give up all her secrets that easily.”

“Are you actually like this?” Hashirama asked. “Or are you trying to seduce me?”

“Er…” for the first time, Mito actually looked a little awkward. “I’ll be honest: I was trying to seduce you.”

“Don’t worry; I’ve heard the stories. Humans are kind of hard to interact with unless you’re giving them something they want, right? I don’t take it personally.”

Mito laughed at that, the light catching in her bright red hair as she did. “You’re a very strange human, Hashirama!”

“I’ve heard that before,” Hashirama replied with amusement. More seriously, he added, “But I don’t understand why you would choose me to seduce. What do you want from me?”

“Like I said, Hashirama: I have to keep my secrets.” Mito looked at him appraisingly, her head cocked to one side. “Let’s just say you have some interesting qualities – for a human.”

“Fine – you don’t have to tell me. But can you drop the whole – ?” Hashirama waved his hands vaguely in her direction, too uncomfortable to actually articulate what he meant; she smirked at him in response. “Whatever you want, you can just ask me, alright? I mean – I’d like to be friends.”

“Alright,” she said, sounding surprised. “Friends it is.”

---

“Kitsune,” Madara spat.

The fox sat back on her haunches and began to unconcernedly wash one of her paws. “Tengu-san,” she replied.

Madara, roosted in the branches above her, hunched his wings threateningly. He was the power in the forests around here, and she could do with a reminder of that. “Stay away from the human boy, Kitsune. He’s mine – understand?”

“Relax, Tengu-san. He already called me on the trick.” She dipped her head at him in sarcastic deference. “He’s all yours for the seducing.”

Madara wasn’t buying it. “What do you want with him?”

The fox cocked her head to one side quizzically. “The same thing you want, I assume? He may be a human, but you must know he has the power of the forest inside him.”

He’d guessed it years ago, of course, but hearing another magical being acknowledge it like that made Madara’s stomach drop. “You feel drawn to him, don’t you?”

“Others will be drawn to him as well, as his power grows stronger. You did well to get in with him early, Tengu-san. Better act fast to lock him down.”

“Kitsune,” Madara called, as she turned to leave. His stomach was in knots now; asking her this would be showing unforgivable weakness, but he might never have another chance to have his suspicions confirmed. “What does it feel like when you’re with him?” he asked. “You said the power of the forest draws you to him. Does it make you feel breathless when he looks at you? Does it…” he swallowed hard. “Does it give you a hollow feeling when you say goodbye to him?”

The fox looked at him in silent surprise for a moment, and then barked out a laugh. “No, Tengu-san, it does not!” she said, laughter in her voice. “I feel a pull towards him, yes, but my heart is still my own. I believe you are in love with him.”

“Oh,” said Madara gruffly. “Er, thanks.”

When the kitsune had gone, he considered his course of action. In any other circumstance, Madara would have done his best to deny his feelings about Hashirama – he’d been managing that successfully for years now, and could probably have sustained it for quite some time. But this was different; now he had competition, and Madara’s nature couldn’t ignore that.

So what if the kitsune was trying to seduce his human? Madara could perform a seduction as well, and he had the advantage of knowledge, thanks to years of friendship with Hashirama. He could win this battle – all it would take was some careful planning and an artful execution.

---

“Where did you find this?” Hashirama exclaimed in delight.

Madara shrugged nonchalantly, his blue-black mane of hair shifting over his shoulders, but Hashirama could tell he was pleased with Hashirama’s reaction. “I told you: I know this forest better than anyone.”

By now, Hashirama knew this wasn’t quite true: he knew the mountain at least as well as his tengu friend, sometimes even better. Even so, Hashirama would be able to equal Madara’s skill at finding far-off treasures of the forest, for the simple reason that Madara could fly. Hashirama cradled the branch Madara had brought him in his hands, admiring the small white flowers with their elegant, delicate petals. “I’ll bet I can graft his onto one of my trees,” he said, already planning how he would do it.

“So…you like it?” Madara asked, a strange edge in his voice.

Hashirama beamed at him. “Of course I do! Thank you, Madara!”

His friend turned a very interesting shade of pink. “Great! Um…good, that’s good.”

Hashirama waited patiently for a further explanation – an account of how he’d stumbled across a wild apricot tree, maybe, or something that had prompted this gift – but when none was forthcoming, he prompted gently, “I didn’t know you were so interested in plants.”

“I am, uh, interested – that is to say, I was thinking…uh…” To Hashirama’s fascination, the tengu was flushing even further. Was this some strange consequence of his shapeshifting? Now a little concerned, Hashirama leaned forwards to get a better look.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Maybe he was overheating? Hashirama laid a hand against Madara’s forehead to check.

“Hgk,” said Madara.

“Hmm, you do feel a little warm,” Hashirama told him. “If you were human, I’d tell you to get some rest, but what about a spirit like you? I have to admit I don’t really know anything about – ”

And then he shut up, because Madara was kissing him. Later, Hashirama would remember how Madara’s hands on his shoulders were trembling a little, and how Madara’s hair felt almost exactly like his feathers had under Hashirama’s fingertips all those years ago. But in the moment, all he could think was why haven’t I done this before?

After just a brief moment, Madara pulled back, his eyes wide and startled. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that!” he blurted.

Hashirama blinked at him. “What?” was all he could manage to say.

“I’m sorry! I had it all planned out, and then I just…went and…”

He looked so distressed; Hashirama felt the only reasonable response was to reassure him by leaning forwards and kissing him again.

When they parted, Hashirama smiled at him, suddenly feeling shy. “I’m glad you did,” he said.

Madara looked about as thunderstruck as Hashirama felt, but at these words, a slow grin spread across his face. “You mean…you wanted me to do that?”

“Madara, I’ve wanted that for ages!”

“But,” Madara objected, “What about Mito?”

“Mito? Oh! I’m not interested in her like that.”

“Good,” said Madara huffily, “You know she’s only trying to seduce you for your powers, right?”

Up until now, Hashirama had been just barely staying afloat in the rapids of this conversation, but this last question threw him completely. Confused, he pulled a little away from Madara and repeated, “Powers?”

“Yes, the power of the forest! That…you…” Madara trailed off, seeing the expression on Hashirama’s face. “You…didn’t know?”

“No,” Hashirama whispered. He’d been about to deny the possibility that there was anything supernatural about him – he was an ordinary human, had been all his life – but the words evaporated on his tongue. He wasn’t really an ordinary human at all, was he? Sure, his life was ordinary enough, in general: he foraged and hunted in the forest; he tended his garden and grew fruit trees; he did his best to live in peace with the spirits of the mountain. He was just a bit unusually good at finding what he was looking for, at predicting the changing weather and coaxing things to grow. If that talent really did have a magical explanation, then the one truly unusual thing about his life suddenly made a lot of sense: his inexplicable friendship with a tengu.

“Is that why you showed yourself to me?” Hashirama asked, the thick certainty of it beginning to clog his throat. Why else would a tengu, a spirit born from a falling star, show any interest in a human like him?

“No!” Madara protested, vehement at first – but then he paused, considering. “Well – maybe at first, but I didn’t even know about your magic back then. And it has nothing to do with the way I feel about you now!”

These words were meant to reassure him, but instead, an even more horrible thought took root in Hashirama’s mind. If Hashirama had somehow influenced Madara before they’d even met, without either of them realizing it…was it possible he’d made Madara kiss him?

“I think you should go,” he said. Anger at Madara for keeping this secret from him was mixing with guilt at the thought of what he might have unwittingly done to his best friend, making him feel sick to his stomach.

“Hashirama – !”

“Go!” Hashirama shouted.

Madara disappeared in a burst of feathers, leaving Hashirama alone.

---

The wind was howling as fiercely as it had the day they had met, but this time, instead of snow, rain was falling in a deluge that soaked through Madara’s feathers in seconds. In his turmoil, he’d settled on neither bird nor human form, but something in between – he was walking on human legs, but catching the wind of the storm in feathered wings sprouting from his back, and his hands, when he looked at them, had birdlike talons on the end of each finger. He glared furiously at a tree in front of him; a bolt of lighting flashed, and the tree exploded, splinters of wood flying past him in the storm. Madara felt, for a moment, just the tiniest bit of satisfaction before fury and anguish overtook him once again.

Why had he let slip the truth about Hashirama’s powers? No – why hadn’t he told his friend about them sooner? Everything had been going perfectly – not exactly the way Madara had planned, but still, he’d kissed Hashirama! And Hashirama had said he was glad Madara had done it, and had kissed him back! How had things gone so wrong, so quickly? It was all his fault – Hashirama thought he’d lied to him; thought he was using him! Alright, Madara hadn’t told him about his abilities, but it wasn’t like he was trying to win him over just to take advantage of him; not like that kitsune. It wasn’t fair!

As if summoned by Madara’s angry thoughts, a voice reached his ears over the screaming of the wind: “You seem like you’re in quite the state.”

“Kitsune!” Madara bellowed, more than happy to direct his rage at a more tangible target. There was the fox, sitting placidly in a tree despite the fury of the storm around her. “This is your fault! You told me he’d called you on your trick!”

“I didn’t say he knew why I was trying to trick him. I’m afraid this is entirely your fault, Tengu-san. His death will be your fault as well, if you keep wandering around here blowing up trees.”

Madara blinked water from his eyes, fear momentarily taking the place of rage. “What do you mean, his death?”

“The boy doesn’t know the strength of his own powers – he doesn’t even know he’s causing this storm,” said Mito, with pity in her voice. “He’s out wandering around, looking for you on the mountain. I’m afraid – well, you already know what rain like this means.”

Horror seized Madara by the throat. Hashirama knew this mountain better than anyone, better even than him; he knew the danger of flash floods. But if he was really out in the forest looking for Madara – if he was beside himself enough to cause a storm like this, and not even realize it –

“Where is he?” Madara howled.

“Fly northeast,” said the fox, “And hurry.”

Madara launched himself into the air, not bothering to alter his form, knowing his own magic would carry him despite the winds. He fought his way through the storm, trying to feel the familiar tug of the power inside Hashirama calling to the power inside him – but now that he was looking for it, the feel of Hashirama’s magic was everywhere, seething around him. His friend was the one causing the storm, just as Mito had said. Just as Madara was beginning to despair of finding him amidst the frothing treetops, he spotted a familiar white and green robe in a clearing below and dove headfirst towards it.

He crashed into Hashirama at full force, sending both of them sprawling on the ground. Madara, clinging tight to his friend, somehow ended up with Hashirama beneath him, rain falling onto Hashirama’s face; Madara hunched his wings to shield both of them from the storm.

“Wow,” Hashirama breathed. “Look at you. I – I think you have fangs. Why do you have fangs?”

“Why are you out wandering around putting yourself in danger?” Madara shot back.

Hashirama put a hand up to Madara’s face. At his touch, Madara realized he had little feathers sprouting from the skin there as well. “I was looking for you! Mito said you were in danger from the storm I caused.”

“Mito said – she told me you were in danger!”

They stared at each other for a moment, Madara feeling the rain against his wings slow from a deluge to a trickle, until Hashirama suddenly burst out laughing. “I should’ve known,” sighed Madara, over Hashirama’s giggles. “Kitsune are born to play tricks.”

“Madara,” Hashirama said, growing serious again. “She also explained about my powers. I…thought I might have accidentally used them to trick you into liking me, but Mito called me an idiot and told me I don’t have that kind of ability. I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier.”  

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Madara said earnestly. “I really thought you knew.”

“I guess I really am an idiot.”

“I guess so,” said Madara, and leaned down to kiss him. Because of this, neither of them noticed the sun emerge from behind the layers of cloud, or heard the bark of a fox’s laugh from the forest.

There is more to this story, of course, for such an unusual pair as them could hardly manage to lead an ordinary existence. But all the legends and stories they would later come to inhabit began like this: chance and a little bit of trickery, and spirit and human together in the stormy woods.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Wolf-Staken || Morgan & Ulfric

@big-bad-ulf

Morgan and Ulfric run into each other in the woods. Neither find exactly what they’re looking for.

The world had become a veil to float through. As Morgan ambled through the woods, she pressed her hand to every tree and branch that passed near her fingers. Testing to see if they would notice her, if her touch would matter in a way they couldn’t seem to matter to her. A freak snow was falling in from the west, but Morgan waded through the underbrush in her thin jeans and college hoodie as steadily as if it were a clear evening. She was almost at the clearing Deirdre had taken her to twice before. There had to be deer nearby, or a roost of chipmunks. The deer she’d killed had to have come from somewhere. She scanned the trees, searching for signs of life. A heartbeat. A rustle of leaves, something that even her new body would catch. And suddenly there was. A brown rabbit nosing out from the wet leaves, checking its surroundings. Poor thing. It was never going to be enough. Morgan crouched low into the ground. Hovering just over the grass. She tilted her head, imagining what it looked like to be that helpless at the bottom of the world, to understand how beyond your grasp the order of the earth was just by looking around. Morgan reached out for it. The end of her thought wasn’t clear, but the want was strong enough to propel her, fingers brushing over its fur--

The rabbit leapt away. Morgan dove, arms closing around air. She scrambled up to all fours, only feet above the rabbit’s height and launched herself again. For a moment it was around her and she had a sense, her face buried in its matted fur, its heart pounding in her ear as if was about to burst, as if it was about to die-- Morgan gasped and the rabbit wriggled out, kicking its haunches square into the side of her face. Morgan went splat, rolled onto her back, and willed a deep sigh though her body. The bottom of the world, she thought, staring up at the sky. Didn’t seem all that different from the view from death.

It was a flash of dark hair and pale skin deeper into the forest that had captured Ulfric’s attention first. All his nerves alighted at once from the glimpse of that family contrast, and he found he was as powerless to keep from following it as he was to keep from howling when the moon was clear and bright. But there was barely a silvery sliver in the sky this night, and his senses frustratingly muted. Unable to rely on scent and sound to identify her from a distance, he trailed the woman cautiously at a slightly higher elevation, keeping his face towards the snowfall to ensure he stayed upwind and undetected as he observed her. To his simultaneous relief and disappointment he quickly realized his quarry couldn’t be Diana Aquilla. On closer inspection she looked too young, and the way she scrambled for purchase through the trees didn’t fit with what he’d seen of hunters. They tended to drift detached from their surroundings, single-mindedly focussed on their targets like cruel mockeries of the angel of death. A lost hiker then? Ulfric pulled his body closer in line with one of the towering pines between them, concealing his silhouette. Maybe a few convincing growls from something lurking in the woods convince her to turn back? Then he could continue his patrol without distraction. Softly, he cleared his throat in preparation but it transformed into a surprised splutter as the woman pounced, or rather, made a very pitiable attempt to pounce on the rabbit. “It’s not polite to play with your food. Nor is it to trespass, for that matter,” the werewolf commented drly from his still concealed position. If she was spawn, or some other creature lacking the capacity for anything but mindless feasting, she’d attack at the sound of his voice and this detour would be dealt with quickly. If she didn’t, then deciding what to do next would get more complicated, but also certainly more interesting.

Morgan looked up from the ground, embarrassed. She was a miserable zombie, she knew that, but it was weirder and harder now that she had an audience. She picked herself up enough to dust off her hands and rub the dirt from her sleeves. The man looking over her was more or less what she would expect from a mountain man this far up north. Not enough weapons compared to the last two hunters she’d seen to be one, she hoped. “I-I wasn’t...playing,” she said. Although, for as ineffective as she was, she might as well have been. Maybe she should’ve lied. But trespassing, that was a lot less good than bad brain hunting. “I thought this was just...the woods?” Weren’t they just there? Had she gotten lost? Oh, shit, she had totally gotten lost. Morgan began to crawl back, grateful to not be able to sweat anymore. “But uh...obviously, they’re not. So, I can just...go be...somewhere else?” she said.

“The property line’s about a quarter-mile back the way you came,” Ulfric informed the woman, inclining his head slightly in that direction, squinting to see if he could make out any figures following her. Apart from the rabbit she’d let slip the forest appeared to be still. “You wouldn’t be the first to miss it.” Or to ignore it, as could still prove to be the case. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, the creature in front of him was in a wretched enough state that he couldn’t rule out the possibility that she’d been sent to scout ahead of the Aquilla hunting party in exchange for being spared their wrath. It would certainly fit the family’s odd history of trying to tame nonhuman creatures. “I wouldn’t go back the way you came. You might meet someone less forgiving than me.” The wolf stepped slowly towards the woman as he spoke, corralling her further into the clearing, where the denser snow would mean less secure footing if she did try to attack or flee. “Answer a few questions, and I’ll show you a shortcut back to the road,” he continued, not asking or bargaining but instructing. “What’s your name?”

Morgan slid her attention back behind her as the mountain man checked the horizon. The more she followed small game around the woods, waiting for them to die, the more she realized how much she spent her existence acting like prey. Was that why Constance had been so sure of herself and her curse? Could she see it in her, how small and ineffectual she was? There was nothing behind her that she could see, but his warning gave her little comfort. Morgan tensed, ready to run, but forced herself still. What could he really do to her? Kill her again? The knockers in the cave of voices had tried that. No luck there. “I was just walking,” she offered stupidly. And then she’d gotten a little rumbly and a little sad. And then the rabbit was just...there. She’d wanted to remember, and she’d liked the prospect of a meal after. But that wasn’t anything to explain to a stranger. “...I’m Morgan,” she said. Her name sounded strange in her own mouth as an introduction. She didn’t feel like Morgan, not as a matter of course, but there weren’t any other names she could offer in turn. “Morgan Beck,” she said again, shrugging. “If I’m following your advice, can I at least know who you are too?”

“I’m Ulfric. We’ve spoken before, Morgan,” Ulfric answered, the name jogging his memory of conversations he’d meant to follow on before he’d found himself spending all his free time playing guard dog. Morgan Beck; seller of rocks, lover of the outdoors and seemingly to be the only other person in town who knew the names of the full moons. The signals she’d been sending out online practically howled werewolf, and catching her midhunt in the middle of the woods would’ve confirmed his suspicions if it weren't for the fact that she was trying to catch her prey with her bare humanoid hands. Was this the influence of hunters then? She seemed rather under-responsive for someone who’d been cornered in the woods. Maybe they’d used wolfsbane to disorient her? Or maybe she was new enough to this to not believe what was happening was real? “Were you hoping to find something on your walk? Or is something looking for you?” He backed up, not taking his eyes on her, but motioning that she should follow as he continued to question her. “I can help you, Morgan, if you’re honest with me.”

“Ulfric…” Morgan had to dig back deep to remember that one. Everything before the crash, before Constance sent her into hyperdrive on a bullshit cursed errand. But she remembered him: the kind sounding man with the tattoo parlor, who drew and was away from his family and admired the moon and the flowers. Morgan relaxed her stance and followed behind him, casting one more look over her shoulder, just in case something was coming up behind them. No sign. “I remember you too, yeah,” she said. “You don’t seem like the kind to lead me into a murder pit or anything, but you can say if you are. Honesty’s the best policy,” she said, laughing dryly. “You seemed kind, is what I mean. And no, nothing is looking for me that I know of, though your warning about less forgiving people currently has me slightly spooked.” Not that anything would hurt even if she did find someone, but the sight of her bones reconstructing themselves and growing sinew still made her stomach turn. It didn’t feel cool or special. It felt wrong. She trotted a little closer to him. “I just need a way out of here. I don’t mean to be any trouble. I’m expected home soon.”

“Good, that’s what I intended.” Ulfric replied tersely when Morgan mentioned being spooked by his words of caution, but his posture relaxed slightly. With the new moon preventing him getting a read on her heart rate, he had to trust his gut on whether she was sincere but her earnest words seemed to suggest so. “I’ve got no intention of hurting anyone who doesn’t intend to hurt me,” he reassured her, not mentioning what he’d do to those intending to harm people he’d chosen to protect in order to keep from compromising the Bennetts’ safe haven. He also didn’t bother to press her on where exactly her ‘home’ was in case that tipped her evaluation of him more towards being the type who would have a murder pit, confident he could track her down by her business if he needed to. Instead the werewolf gestured with a finger to his lips that she should remain quiet, before turning to scan the trees ahead for threats, trusting that she wouldn’t be one as she trailed behind. The stoic silence continued until they reached a creek which he knew would lead them towards Torrance Street while giving the trailer where the young wolf and her sister were sheltering a wide berth. The flowing water deepened by melting snow also conveniently muffled his words as he spoke again. “Are you planning on hunting like this often? I wouldn’t recommend it in your… current state.” He said referring to her blunted teeth and nails and general dazed demeanour. “But I can give you some tips, if you really insist on it.”

Morgan didn’t mind the silence. In time, she fell in step with Ulfric’s pace and was able to lift up from herself, her own secret ghost, and float away to somewhere else like a runaway balloon. She barely noticed the terrain they passed and stopped only because Ulfric was too imposing a figure to miss even with her consciousness half missing. “O-oh,” she said. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, and she wasn’t sure what to make of Ulfric noticing how not-all-there she was. No one else felt compelled to comment on it, and the animals didn’t mind her. There were times when she felt invisible even to herself, the way she imagined ghosts felt all the time.  “I don’t know. Not if it’s gonna go like this,” she deadpanned. She realized, too late, that under the circumstances she ought to exercise a little more care. “I um...you know, it’s a weird story you probably don’t wanna know, but...I don’t have to, exactly. But in a pinch, well--if you did know how to do that without having to get, like, a gun or anything, that would be appreciated. For in a pinch.”

“No guns,” Ulfric agreed, scowling in distaste at the suggestion. “You’ll want to work on your approach. No offence, but you’re easy to hear coming”. As he picked up the pace to lead Morgan out of his domain, he rattled off the instructions that had been drilled into him a million times before his parents had deemed him ready for tracking prey in human form. “When you have locked on to your target, try moving towards it with one foot directly in front of the other, like you're walking on a tightrope. That’ll force you to focus on evenly distributing your weight.” He slowed for a moment demonstrating along the ridge of the creek’s edge for a few paces. “You don’t want to bring your whole foot down at once either. Just make contact heel and then roll it forward. If you feel something unstable, just shift it softly to the side.” He brought the toe of one worn boot gently down against a brittle branch on the forest floor but slid off it silently pushing it aside before it could break. That way you won’t snap every twig between here and Bangor.” Noticing a small cross carved into the trunk of a pine ahead, marking the outer boundary of his homestead proper, he turned back to Morgan and held his hand out for her to stop. “Wait here, and I call you ahead in a moment,” Ulfric ordered. “Or you could try and sneak up on me. You could use the practice.” His tone grew a touch more friendly at the amusing mental picture. “I wouldn’t go running off in any other direction though, don’t want to lose your way again.”

Morgan was pretty sure that general incompetence at anything outside her niche fields of expertise hadn’t been what Deirdre meant when she said the bones of herself remained. And it had been, Morgan wanted to petition the underworld for better bones to preserve. She followed Ulfric’s instructions as he gave them, recentering herself awkwardly as her center of gravity shifted. He wasn’t kidding about the focus part. She did her best with the placement of her feet, although it brought back shameful memories of her brief stint in ballet class. She wobbled in the leaves as her thoughts wandered into those dusty alive memories and snapped back to attention with a sheepish expression.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Morgan deadpanned. She rolled her eyes ruefully and smirked at the suggestion she could successfully sneak, but as soon as Ulfric had put some distance from her, Morgan felt a pull to test him on his suggestion. Slowly, centering herself on her toes first, she began to creep, one foot directly in front of the other. Slow and mindful of the twigs. The wind rose around her and she winced, wondering how much of the rustling grass was her, and how much was the restless earth. She adjusted herself and continued until she was close enough to call, “Boo!”

Ulfric surged ahead of Morgan, breaking through the tree line. With a sigh of relief he saw that all the lights in his trailer were off, the silhouette of the structure that stood on the opposite side of the clearing barely distinguishable from the dense curtain of forest behind it. Even if her eyesight was as good as his in the dark, he was fairly certain she’d miss it without knowing where to look for it. Confident that the Bennets were safely concealed, he made to call back to the strange straggler he’d picked up in the woods, but picked on the soft swish of frost dampened grass a few feet behind him. Pivoting on the spot, he turned to face Morgan just as she’d uttered her triumphant exclamation. “Better,” He offered her gruff but sincere praise. She was a fast learner, and now he was relatively sure she wasn’t a threat, at least not to anyone but herself, that could be considered a positive. “You’ll need to practice until you can do it without really thinking. But for now, it’s a start. Come on,” he ushered her along at an unforgiving speed, keen to get her far away from where his unlikely wards were hiding. Before long they came to a fence, which he swiftly climbed over, extending a hand to help her do the same once he was on the other side. “The road’s just here, heading east will take you back towards town. Don’t linger too long. I was serious about there being things less friendly than me lurking in these woods,” Ulfric instructed her, glad to be able to return to his watch duty, but a little disappointed he hadn’t been able to figure her out; was she an inexperienced and admittedly very strange wolf as he suspected? Or something unknown and even stranger? “I would like to hear that long story though, when it’s a better time.”

Morgan deflated with a half-hearted huff as Ulfric turned, knowing exactly where she was behind him, perhaps even the whole time. Still, it was kind of him to smile and tell her she was getting better. If things got scarce at the butcher’s, she might be able to rely on his advice to actually help her catch something. She wobbled over the fence, strong but inexperienced in using her body this way. She held on tight to Ulfric’s sleeve the whole way down. “Thank you,” she told him. “I appreciate it, really.” He even seemed to mean it when he said he wanted to know what her story was. And his voice was so kind she wanted to believe him. She winced, knowing with her luck it wasn’t true. “Not sure I know how to tell it in a way you’d believe,” she said. “But you are someone I’d like to know. Maybe I’ll scrape enough dollars together to come into your shop sometime soon, if that’s, um, if that would be okay?” She began to inch towards the road. She was still learning how to be around people besides Deirdre; so far that was adding up to a lot of awkward and apology.

“You’re welcome,” Ulfric replied, easing her onto the ground, though he wasn’t sure how helpful he’d actually been. At best he’d reduced her chances of running into one vicious cabal of hunters for one night, but there were bound to be more out there and he doubted the way in which she seemed lost could be fixed by something as simple as directions back to town. At Morgan’s suggestion that he’d find her story far-fetched, he scoffed. “I think you’d be surprised what I’m capable of believing.” He was fairly certain the bar for what he’d considered unbelievable had dropped a few feet from its already low starting point since he’d lived in White Crest, the only thing he was skeptical of now was that there was anything left in the world that could shock him. “You would be welcome to stop by,” He insisted, hopeful that she would find him again despite the cautious reception and his eagerness to send her away for the time being. There would come a time when her disorientation would pose more of a threat to her than the chance of being caught in the crossfire of the Bennett’s bounty, and he would miss their chats if she fell victim to dangers she wasn’t aware of.  “Don’t stray from the road,” the werewolf called out a final instruction, but he was already fading back into the forest, adopting again the familiar cloak of shadows and silence that would conceal him as he waited for signs of his intended quarry.

[dahniwitchoflight]

Hi Have Some Zelda

I need to talk about Wind Waker lore and I need to do it now, because I googled my idea and I didn’t find anyone else talking about the idea so I guess it needs to exist now

I don’t think it was the intention when the game was created that Zora turned into Rito, I think it became that due to wind wakers short development cycle and the fact they had to cut and smoosh together a bunch of stuff to release the game

I now it’s canon now, but in a different universe here is what could have been...

In canon, when Hyrule flooded, the Zora, an water dwelling race apparently couldn’t survive in slightly saltier water, so the deity that they worshiped in OoT times

Valoo....

Took pity on their plight and granted them wings, allowing the to survive in this water world. By flying above the water instead of in it. 

They also took with them the Pearl of the Goddess handed down through generations, the one belonging to Nayr- I mean, Din?

As well as the power of the Wate- I mean, Earth...Sage...

I have a few problems with this.

1) Why were the Zora worshiping a fire breathing sky Dragon and not Jabun, especially as Jabun exists in Wind Waker and IS the same Jabun as Jabu Jabu from OoT which the Zora there clearly worship?

2) Why was it easier to transform a fish into a bird instead of a freshwater fish into a saltwater fish?

3) I mean I know it’s never stated outright, but Zora are clearly associated with Nayru right? Not Din, Din was Goron, Farore was Korok. Nayru was Zora. 

4) A ZORA. As the EARTH SAGE. N...No!? Make whatever arguments you want for the bird, but a Zora was not the Earth Sage when this game was being pitched. 

Also, if the Rito and the Zora were meant to be of the same bloodline, why do the statues of the goddess Din, Farore and Nayru in Wind Waker have Feathered, Flowered and Finned ears respectively?

Din had a Rito for the Earth Sage

Farore had a Korok for the Wind Sage

Nayru had a Zora for the Water Sage

this is what I believe it was meant to be

But I’m not done yet

We still have the problem of “Why a Bird for the Earth sage?” When really it’s because the Rito are a Din sage and Din’s elements are Earth and Fire.

Now we get to the juicy bits

so If the Rito were an evolved species, under the blessing of their reptilian guardian, given wings to escape a drowning world AND they aren’t related to the Goron because Goron exist in WW (and they even were supposed to have their own cut Island with a steampipe hotspring aesthetic In WW so def nothing to do with Din’s Pearl or the Earth Sage)

Just who did they evolve from?

Judging by the judgy prejudice a lot of the Hylians seem to hold towards the Rito in WW, also something not explained by their Zora origins who were beloved by the royal family and its people and who had no history of betrayal like the Sheikah did once upon a time. 

their red hair, the tanner skin the males have, the connection to Din, the reptilian deity the fact that their lifestyle made them complete unsuited for an ocean world

I feel the Rito were originally intended to be the Transformed Gerudo people.

Because as of OoT, the Gerudo would be a people facing prejudice against what their King had become and right after OoT is where theyd be feeling that brunt the strongest

They did already have some birdlike traits, with their large eyes and long noses, and the red hair and yellow eyes is also seen in at least Rito females like Medli, not to mention Dragon Roost island is a hot volcanic place, so the people who live there need to at least be acclimated to higher temperatures, like those found in a desert. 

It’s not a perfect fit mind you, because obviously most of the Rito we see in game are Males, Gerudo didn’t have males besides Ganondorf, and the male Rito are actually more reminiscent of Sheikah, having red eyes and white hair

But you know who else isnt found in WW? The Sheikah.

You know how in order to continue their race the Gerudo’s were said to get Hylian boyfriends? You know what wasn’t happening after the events of OoT? Gerudo’s getting with Hylians as often, which means its more likely as time went on that the Gerudo preferred to seek out Sheikah, another race of humans who would understand at least what it meant for others to think of your kind as betrayers.

(not to mention that for any OoT Hylian, having a race be a mix of the Sheikah and Gerudo, they would undoubtably face more than some racial prejudice after the events of Ganondorf, Sheikah were already apparent betrayers, and Gerudo were outsiders.)

As for Valoo not existing in OoT times like Jabu and Deku

well, we never really see what the Gerudo’s snake deity looks like, it could have been a dragon, a BOTW type dragon even, long and eastern

that just became a winged western dragon just like how the gerudo became winged. 

So the story is basically after being rejected as Outsiders after the events of OoT, and Hyrule  being flooded, The Gerudo and their more than likely Sheikah families who were also outsiders/castaway families, prayed not upon Hylia, who had called forth the flood, but their own patron Reptile Deity Valoo and begged to be saved, Valoo with his powers gave all the Gerudo and their family a blessing of wings and they all became fully a new race of people, the Rito, neither Gerudo and Sheikah anymore, but a perfect blend of the two. 

Also, there was supposed to be a dungeon associated with Nayru’s Pearl, Jabun and the Greatfish isle, but it was cut due to time restraints. Link WAS supposed to be able to travel underneath the oceans surface in some way , at least using iron boots, maybe a rudimentary diving suit and able to jump back to the surface using warp points that look like fishermen’s hooks and the ocean was once at least a little transparent, but these ideas had to be scrapped as well

So the ocean had to change from being vibrant and full of life, to being dead and empty, it’s called devoid of living things and fish in the final, yet the Fishmen mapmakers exist and many people on many islands make their livings as Fishermen, reference that were perhaps missed when cuts were being made. We even see leftover caves in the background of sunken hyrule, still with collisions but no warps and references in the final cut still being made to how the Ice and Fire mini dungeons had cave entrances hidden somewhere in the sunken hyrule. 

Not to mention, the biggest hints of the Gerudo influence is in the Earth Dungeon itself, so reminiscent of both the Spirit and Shadow temple from OoT

and finally, it makes so much more sense for a Desert dwelling Gerudo to be an Earth sage instead of a Zora.

alright that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it, remember, I’m not talking about what canon ended up being, I’m talking about what could have been

Also did yall know that in the files of the game there’s an older version of the a crumbling Sage stone that has a different unique unused-in-the-series-so-far melody on it instead of the Earth God’s lyric? even though it pictures a harp?

And even using a time signature that Wind Waker never even uses

I wonder what It would have sounded like

Also because Harps are undoubtedly Water and Nayru, if Oracle of Ages is to be believed

I wonder what instrument Medli would have used instead? If the above was meant to be the Water God’s and Violin fits Makar and Kokiri so well as little leprechaun types

Well, the Gerudo had a penchant for Dancing, but that doesn’t really make a music of its own

It would make sense actually to go back to the title theme of the game, since the earth god’s lyric and the wind god’s aria seem to make up the two halves of the song, and try and see if a third instrument pops out

It does start off with a slow drum beat so maybe a gentle Drum?

Or heck, singing because it’s called a Lyric, which usually means words to sing, would be a nice throw back to another sweet red haired singing maiden

Maybe the dancing could incorporate a Tambourine type instrument too

[scurvgirl]

The Nature of Monsters, Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Kass struggles to accept help.

Melarue belongs to @justanartsysideblog

_____________________________

The next few days pass in much the same fashion as the first day she awoke. Her body is still recovering and she finds she tires easily, which means as much as she does not wish to, they remain in Melarue’s home. The second day, she makes remarks that they need to move on, but she has a coughing fit and is quickly taken to bed. Adair, the healer, is brought to her and simply explains that she has overexerted her exhausted lungs. With his guidance and blessing, Ash and Melarue insist she stay until she is fully recovered at least. Despite her concerns, she gives into them. It wouldn’t be protecting Ash in the long run if they were to run off and for her to die on Ash because she insisted on leaving before she was properly recovered.

In the meanwhile, she takes her repose in the library, finding she likes many of the books Melarue has stocked. And what she hasn’t read, she is interested in trying, compiling a list and gets to tackling it in short order. 

Ash sets to school work as well with a new accessory - glasses. Melarue apparently had them made when they saw her struggling with reading a note. Every now and then, Kass hears her daughter gasp as she spies something new to gaze upon. Kass knew her daughter couldn’t see as well as some, but she never...spectacles are a new invention and not exactly accessible to someone of her station. As grateful and happy she is for her daughter, Kass worries this is just another debt she will never be able to repay Melarue. They haven’t asked for any payment or when Kass and Ash will leave, but surely they must feel the effects of their presence. The food costs alone have increased by two people and bringing Kass back from the depths of her illness, plus Ash’s glasses….

“It’s too much,” she tells Melarue on the seventh morning. Ash had just flitted from the room for a morning swim before her new tutor arrived. A tutor Melarue had hired. Kass rubs her horn, shaking her head.

“I can’t pay you, but I can work. I’m good with security, I could help out at one of your houses or...I can learn whatever it is you need because I can’t just sit here and let you...can you tell me what you want from me so I can do it? Please?” She pleads, her heart aching in her chest (though that may be her lungs).

They remain still at the table, the wide dark glasses hiding much of their expression.

“You want to know what I want?” They ask.

“Yes.”

“Very well. I want you to be healthy and happy, to relax and enjoy life for once. Ash was quite talkative while you were asleep. She told me of how you always worked to make sure her life was good. I heard of how hard you have allowed your life to be so hers isn’t. What I want, Kassaran, is for your life to not be so hard anymore. There are so few good people in this world, I would hate to see yet another kind soul squashed by the world.”

Too stunned to speak, Kass merely watches as Melarue rises from their seat. Their hand adjusts their glasses then touches their hair before turning and walking from the table. They pause at the double doors before speaking.

“Ash is a lovely girl, I hate to think of her living her life on the run.” They don’t wait for her reply before quickly exiting the room. 

For a long moment, Kass just sits there. They want...her to be healthy and happy. Of all the things she expected,  that was the last of them. And what was all that about the world squashing another kind soul? She wasn’t getting squashed. Alright, she nearly died last week but that was because of a disease. And yes, maybe she caught the disease because she was forced on the run by bigoted fools. The fact remained that she didn’t die...because of Melarue.

Damn, what kind of situation is this? She has faced more monsters than most hunters or mercenaries could ever hope to survive. She’s bested vampires, worms, werewolves, wild hippogriffs, a pack of crocottas, a very odd sphynx even! She engaged in verbal spars with a gigantic possessed tree that was somehow destroying a nearby apple orchard and would only stop once someone engaged in a battle of wit. On more than one All Soul’s Day, she has spoken with enraged spirits, dispelled ghosts, and even helped banish a demon with a determined priestess. She encountered a naga who was being hunted by a prince, saved her and helped her open a pottery store. So many things and creatures she has experienced, yet nothing in all of her experience of dangerous creatures could ever prepare her for this. She doesn’t even know what to call this. Hospitality is too tame a word and friendship is too familiar. 

“Compassion is a strange thing to experience if someone has never felt its gentle touch,” the maid, Elsi, comments as she comes in to clean the table. Kass frowns.

“I know compassion. I’m a compassionate person.”

Elsi chuckles and looks up, her odd eyes catching the light, “Being compassionate and having compassion shown to you are two separate things, my lady.” When Kass continues to frown at the girl, she rolls her eyes and sets her cleaning supplies to the side. 

“My mother was a harpy who was killed by a hunter who didn’t care to know that she wasn’t terrorizing anyone, just trying to provide for her three daugthers. My sisters were older and took after the hunter, promising to return but they never did. I was starving when Melarue found me. They groomed my feathers and took me in, offered me a place to stay until I was ready to go. I had been alone for three years by that point, scavenging for scraps of food. I didn’t know a kind soul for that entire time until they found me and I fought them hard. I attacked them, screamed at them, and they took it until I was calm enough to tend to me. It was so hard to accept the compassion and I kept feeling like I had to repay them - I brought them so many shiny rocks as is customary in harpy culture. But they wanted what they want for you - health, happiness, and freedom. I learned a valuable lesson from them in this,” Elsi pauses and reaches up to the collar of her dress, pulling out a necklace that copies Melarue’s. She unhooks it and Kass gasps in awe. Dull brown hair is replaced with soft brown feathers that cascade down her shoulders and join the great wings that spring from her back, flight feathers tipped in white. Unlike a full-blooded harpy, she retains separate arms from her wings, her hands however have talons rather than nails. She turns back to Kass, her eyes now showing avian sharpness and curiosity. 

“People are quite like animals. If one has only experienced harsh touches and actions, they expect all touches and actions to be harsh. Compassion breaks that mold and it first feels like it must be insidious. It takes time to learn to accept the good when all you know is bad.” Elsi clicks the necklace back into place and she reverts back to her nondescript maid appearance. She gathers up the remains of breakfast and hurries back into the kitchen. 

Kass blinks and tries to make sense of what just happened. She remembers a job she could have taken about five years ago, two villages coming together to expel a roost of dangerous harpies. The pay was very good but the village was just too far, Kass would have been gone for at least five months just for this one job. She knows the hunter responsible for completing it however, now lauded as a hero rather than just a mercenary hunter. 

She wonders at what would have happened if she had accepted the job instead of him. Would this girl have suffered as much as she has? 

It doesn’t do much to consider such things now, but it prickles at her mind. She could have helped instead of hurt, could have...but all the “coulds” in the world have never turned into a “did.” 

Kass supposes there is truth to what Elsi said about compassion. It’s a wild thought to have, that she hasn’t experienced kindness in so long that she doesn’t know how to handle it. For so long she has been the mercenary, the hunter, compelled to do the right thing by her own moral compass, not because the world has been particularly good to her. Far from it. 

No longer stunned into paralysis, Kass rises from the table and sets out to find Melarue. She is heading up the stairs when they appear at the top, dressed in a lovely gown of aubergine. There are black feathers atop their head and a small veil comes over their glasses, further obscuring their face. 

“Melarue, I would like to apologize,” she says quickly seeing that they are donning their traveling gloves.

“For what?” They ask, stepping down to meet her as she climbs up.

“For my earlier outburst, I was being terribly ungracious and I see now that you are merely compassionate and I am so used to taking care of other people that I don’t have the slightest idea of how to let someone else take care of me,” she babbles quickly, only to stop when they reach up with their ungloved hand to press a single finger to her lips. She stills at their touch, their finger soft on her bitten lip. 

“No apology is necessary, I understand. I was in a similar state when you found me in that cave.” Their hand shifts so that their fingertips caress her cheek in a quick motion. Electricity zings through her making her inhale sharply. The touch is over in a second. They retract their hand but do not move away from her. 

“I will be back much later today,” they murmur, yet still they don’t move. They both stand there, not moving or speaking. She wonders if this is what happens right before they turn someone into a statue. She flexes her fingers to test the theory, finding she can move them, but her legs do not wish to move and neither do her eyes. 

“I feel like I saw more of you in that cave than I do standing here,” she whispers, not knowing what inspired that comment. So inappropriate!

Their lips part to reply, but a door bangs open downstairs and the sound of shoes on tile echoes up the foyer.

“Melarue, the carriage has arrived,” Elsi calls, jarring them both out of whatever odd stasis had overtaken them. Melarue turns from Kass and slides the glove onto their hand then moves past her to finish their descent down the stairs. Kass turns to watch Elsi slide a coat onto them. Their movements are quick, purposeful, but they pause after opening the front door. They turn ever so slightly towards her before leaving. 

The door clicks shut and silence resounds through the foyer. 

Elsi glances up at Kass and smiles, “Stay awhile, will you?”

“Yes.”

**

Melarue doesn’t return until hours past dinner. The sun has long since set and Kass would have gone to sleep if she hadn’t been caught up in the thought of seeing them again. Clearly, rationality has left her. She is curled up in the library when a shadowed figure slowly walks by the open door. Kass closes the book she was reading and leaps up to follow the figure.

Only when she gets into the hallway does she recognize the figure as Melarue. They are lurching down the hallway, holding their hand up against the light. Their movements are stiff yet uncoordinated, as if nursing an injury. A quick glance to the floor confirms their it - drops of blood trail behind them. 

“Melarue,” she calls. They pause and wave a still gloved hand at her.

“Leave me.”

“I can help,” she says, quickly reaching them. Their head is bent, hair hanging loosely to obscure their face. “Please, let me help,” she whispers. They don’t look at her but nod once. Relieved, Kass bends down and picks them up with ease. 

“I can walk,” they protest.

“Not well, and not fast enough to make sure no one else sees,” she replies in a low voice. A disgruntled sigh escapes them and they do not protest again until she has them upstairs in their sitting room. 

“Here, no further,” they murmur. She closes the door after setting them on a long tufted fainting couch. The gas lamps are still lit in the room, filling the space with a warm glow. When Kass turns to them, their face is contorted into a grimace of pain. 

“Tell me what hurts.”

“My eyes, the lights...the glasses protect everyone else but after awhile…”

“It hurts you,” she finishes for them. She glances around the room, not finding anything she needs to help with that but she knows there are cloths and water in her bathroom. “I will be right back,” she tells them then slips from their room and hurries to her bathroom. She gathers up two cloths and soaks them in warm water before returning to Melarue’s side. She grabs her small first aid kit along the way as well.

“Shut your eyes,” she asks softly. She waits a second then reaches up and slowly eases the heavy glasses off of their face. They are...so beautiful, she thinks, with their sharp features and soft skin. But the pain lines their face and so she gently places the warm, wet cloth over their eyes. 

“Relax,” she murmurs, then sets to work on finding the source of the blood. She finds it quickly enough on their left thigh, a stab wound that has not been bandaged properly. When she leans in, the edges of the wound reveal that there was a toxin used.

“The blade was poisoned.”

“Envenomed, no need to worry, I’m immune,” they say, but she tsks her tongue anyways and sets to cleaning the wound. She takes the catgut out of the stitching kit and heats a needle over one of the flames before stitching them as quickly as she dares. They grunt at the discomfort but otherwise do not speak. She bandages them anew and tells them she is going to put on a spot of healing tea.

They grimace, “Tea, must I suffer.”

“Melarue, you were stabbed.”

“I will withstand the wound.”

“You’re being a bit dramatic, the tea will help,” Kass argues but their mouth is set and she knows there will be no convincing them. Oddly enough, it makes her chuckle. “Very well, no tea. But you need rest, a good bit of it. You shouldn’t go out tomorrow.”

“The knife was aimed for one of my girls, I will need to check on her tomorrow. Her baby could come any day now.”

Kass raises an eyebrow at them, “Someone tried to stab pregnant woman?”

They wave, “Idiotic nobleman’s wife found out about his forays into the house. News traveled that the woman he favors there is pregnant. Since he was vain enough to assume the child is his, he set out to kill his supposed bastard child. Nevermind that the babe isn’t his, we serve all customers a twenty-four hour sterility tonic before seeing one of the workers. Still, I need to be there for her.”

“Smart of you to serve that tonic. But you need the rest. What if...what if I go in your stead? I’ve birthed a few babies in my time, and had a baby as well. Dealt with my fair share of bad folks, too,” she suggests, remaining kneeling by them. 

“I cannot appear weak,” they say and she shakes her head.

“How is sending a large woman with a big sword with lots of experience in both of these areas appearing weak? Unless you see me as weak.”

They raise a finger at her, “You’re trying to manipulate me.”

She grins, “Transparently. Still, my points remain.” 

Even when they cannot see her, they manage to raise their hand and bring it to her cheek, “I suppose I still struggle with accepting help.”

“The best of us do,” Kass whispers, resisting the urge to turn her head into their touch. That same electricity from earlier sparks along her skin, making her heart beat faster. 

The corners of their lips turn upward and their fingers graze lower until they come to her lips. She stops breathing for the barest of moments as the fingers run along her lower lip. 

“Very well,” they whisper so soft she nearly doesn’t catch it. They bring their fingers from her lips to theirs and their voice is louder when they speak, “Go.” It isn’t harsh, but equal parts request and command. One that she is quite happy to follow, her mind in tumultuous confusion and odd arousal. 

She leaves the room and dashes to her own, shutting the door, hoping that perhaps the physical barriers between them will calm the thundering of her heart. For all her experience, she never is prepared for them, she realizes. 

Kass touches her lip where they had, remembering the soft pressure of their fingers. Is it possible they are doing this to her on purpose? There are creatures out there with immense seductive powers and Melarue’s powers have never been mapped in totality. It’s...possible, she supposes, but she doubts for some reason they would use it on her. They made sure she was protected from their eyes and have avoided her for the most part. They are polite in her company, and it is only recently, after their touches, that she has begun to feel this confusing way. 

For all the vipers’ nests she’s been in, both metaphorical and literal, she never anticipated being holed up so happily in one. 

**

The next day, Kass wakes early and dons her mercenary gear. She braids her hair back and adopts her stern, ‘I’m a badass mercenary hunter, don’t mess with me’ look. She looks in the mirror and for the first time in too long of a time she doesn’t feel dread. For so long, this gear meant a hunt or a run, it meant separation from Ash and doing things she didn’t agree with. It meant sacrificing part of herself for survival. Now, however, she feels purposeful. She is going to help this girl at the house and Melarue, and she won’t feel like she’s a useless lump around this mansion. 

Kass leaves the room with more pep in her step than usual. It’s early enough that the sky is still a rich blue with night, only now beginning to light. It’s her favorite time of day, when the dark is just about to be extinguished by the light, but in the meanwhile, the sky is so blue and pure and beautiful. 

The house is just waking as well. Kass comes across Elsi on her way to the kitchen for breakfast to find the girl not yet disguised. Her wings are stretched out as she yawns, her talons flexed as she shakes off sleep. 

“Good morning, Elsi,” Kass says, scooching by her, careful not to touch her wings. 

“Good morning, Kassaran. Melarue is in the sunroom and would like to speak with you before you depart. I’ll bring out tea and scones for you.” The girl clicks her necklace into place, her wings shimmering from view.

“Thank you, and you don’t need to do that. You should be comfortable,” Kass says.

“That is very kind of you, but I’m more comfortable this way. Anyone could come over and I...would not like to be caught unawares.” Kass nods her understanding. As much as Melarue has created a safe haven for atypical creatures, the world is still not safe for them. Elsi has seen and experienced too much to not be paranoid about being caught as masquerading as a human. She would also risk ousting Melarue and any other monstrous people who live in this house. 

Elsi walks to the kitchen while Kass changes direction and heads for the sunroom. The room is adjacent to the glassed-in pool, angled to catch the morning sun. Even now, what little light that is beginning to shed this early is funneled straight into the room. Melarue sits close to a window, their back turned to the light. They are unlike any time Kass has seen them - free of makeup and pomp, dressed only in a plush robe and a large wrap around their head containing their hair. 

They are wearing their glasses again, seeming recovered enough to don them once more. They sip from a large mug, steam curling upward to fog their glasses. 

Their neck is bare. 

It takes Kass a moment to realize they are allowing themselves to appear as they truly are to her. Their gaze is withheld for protection, but here they are in the light, unadorned. Her heart clenches at the sentiment as she takes a seat in the seat across from them. 

“Good morning,” she greets. They lower the mug, but keep it between their hands. Her brow furrows as she notes how their shoulders remain close to them and exactly how thick the material of their robe is.

“Are you cold? I could fetch you a blanket or -

They wave her off, “I am always cold in the morning. It is a part of...who I am.” 

“Don’t tell Ash, she’ll make it her personal mission to keep you warm and may accidentally set you on fire,” Kass jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Their mouth quirks up.

“I am aware of her gift, she will be quite the talented mage. Her tutor is here to assist her with the gift as well as her academics.” 

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you,” Kass says, only slightly surprised at this point. 

Their expression turns into a full smirk, “Not everything.”

Elsi chooses that moment to enter the room, setting a tray full of scones, soft-boiled eggs, and tea fixings on the table between Kass and Melarue. Both of them thank Elsi before she slips out again. After a moment, Kass leans forward and fixes her cup of tea - peppermint by the smell, her favorite - and takes a scone along with a good smattering of the clotted cream. Melarue takes a scone and the entire platter of eggs, moving the plate to a table to their immediate right. 

Kass sips her tea and eats her scone. It’s all very delicious of course, the chef is nothing short of amazing. She tries not to pay too much attention to how Melarue eats, but it’s difficult. It’s different from when they have joined Kass and Ash for meals in the past. They eat the eggs first in quick order - all five halves. Before, they ate leisurely, often not finishing much of anything, but here they seem to inhale their food. 

They pause and she feels their gaze shift to her, “My apologies, I-

“No need to apologize,” she says quickly, “diets are part of it. I fed a vampire once, this isn’t nearly as...if anything, the onus on me, I shouldn’t stare. My apologies.” 

She turns back to her tea, letting its warmth heat her up from the inside out. She does not look up again until they speak once more.

“The carriage will come for you soon. My driver will take you to the house, he will be instructed to wait for one of my people to bring materials for me. You will be met by Morwen, ask him to send Aster back with the carriage with all of the books. Morwen will take you to Suvenin, you are to check on her and remain present throughout the day to make sure nothing goes awry. I have written notes for Morwen, Aster, and Suvenin so they know this as per my request.” They hand over the letters and Kass nods, tucking them into the interior breast pocket of her coat. 

“Morwen wears a similar necklace as I do,” Melarue says in a measured voice. Kass nods again, knowing that anything that could give Melarue and the others away also gives up her and her daughter. She needs the preparation that Morwen is like them, however, to make sure she doesn’t give any hints. She’s a former hunter, there are always eyes, always someone who is a little too observant who can be taken advantage of. 

“You are unfortunately very recognizable,” they continue, leaning down to bring up a small wooden box. They set it on the table, nudging it towards her. She picks it up and opens it, finding a necklace mimicking their own. 

“I started the commission for two necklaces when you and your daughter initially arrived. This is the only one that is ready.”

But these are for monsters, she wants to say but she bites her tongue. Is she not a monster now too? Is she not on the run from those who would slay her and her daughter for merely existing? Pursing her lips, Kass lifts the necklace and snaps it into place around her neck. The tingle of magic vibrates all over her, her skin turning from its soft grey to a cool dark brown. She reaches up and feels her horns, but she somehow also knows that those are no longer visible. A glance at her arm reveals that her pearly white hair is now a stark black. 

“Your eyes are the same,” Melarue says, “the eyes are one thing the necklace cannot disguise.” They say it with a hint of bitterness that betrays them. 

Kass gives them a reassuring smile, “I’ll make sure it goes well. They’re safe with me.”

“I know,” they say softly. Their ear twitches and Kass swears she sees their hair covering move, but they reach up and adjust the tie and it’s as if nothing happened. 

“Please remember to rest today,” she reminds them, “some light book work should be fine, but sleep really is the best thing for you right now.”

“Always the mother,” they tease and she shrugs.

“I care.” Their expression softens and they reach up to pat at their hair covering, seemingly at a loss for words. The loss oddly fills Kass with a pride she has no business feeling. She’s had no business feeling half the feelings she’s been having to begin with, she doesn’t need to add this to the pile. Kass rises from her seat and walks over to them, still adjusting to see brown skin when she’s accustomed to grey. 

She sticks out her hand to them, trying not to stare at her befuddling color, “I customarily shake hands with my employer after taking a job. Seals the deal, so to speak.” They eye the hand before sliding theirs to shake hers. Long, slim fingers slide against her palm and hold her hand as she grasps theirs. Their skin is so soft, so smooth and the touch feeds a hunger that has been growing inside of her. 

They release her, a small smile spreading across their face, “It’s sealed. If you need assistance, do not hesitate to send for me.”

“Of course. Now rest up, or I’ll make you drink that tea.” She wags her finger at them as she strides from the room and towards the front to meet the driver.

[chaoscalled]

What We’ve Become (A Gendrya Fic)

Arya had been walking back from the training grounds when the first dragon flew overhead.  A sight that would be burnt in her mind forever. All black with red in its wings like the fire that lived in its belly was seeping out.  The second dragon was smaller, but no less exhilarating to behold. She had turned then and made her way to the tallest bridge in Winterfell.

She could see the Queen’s caravan, but even from her perch, she was only glimpsing a portion of the armies. Horse lords from the plains of Essos littered the fields with more horses than Arya had ever seen in her life. Along the road, cart after cart of dragon glass was being wheeled toward Winterfell’s forge.  The only thing capable of killing the White Walkers beside Valyrian steel and good old fashioned fire.  And above the slew of soldiers, the twin dragons circled in big, lazy lopes.

Arya knew she should have been down in the courtyard with Bran and Sansa.  She was meant to be down there greeting their new queen.  More than that, she knew she should want to be down there.  Jon was down there.  She hadn’t seen Jon since he’d given her Needle and set off for the Wall.  But she couldn’t bring herself to leave the bridge.  To tear her eyes from the magnificent creatures that were long thought extinct.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, watching the dragons and eyeing the caravan, but the sun had arched its way high into the sky.  Footsteps crunched in the snow behind her.  She stilled.  She didn’t recognize the footsteps.  She kept her eyes trained on the swooping beasts, but her attention was now on her newly arrived company.

“Arya?”

She turned then, at the familiar voice.  His eyes were wide as saucers as he looked at her.  Arya took him in as well.  His hair was longer.  His face harder.  But it was something in his eyes that caught her interest.  He was different.  Different like Bran was different.  Like Sansa was different.  Like she was different.  But there was more to him.  Something she recognized, but couldn’t place quite yet.

“Is it really you?” He asked, breathlessly.

She smiled.  She had to work to put the expression on her face. Had there ever been a time when she had smiled with ease?  Jon had always been her favorite.  She should be grinning like a fool at the sight of him.  But too much had happened for her to smile so easily.  She had seen too much.  Lost too much.  

Jon didn’t seem to notice her struggle.  He crossed the distance between them and scooped her up into his arms.  He’d gotten smaller.  She noticed as he held her.  Or she’d gotten bigger.  She hadn’t thought so before, but she used to have to jump to put her arms around his neck, now she reached it with ease.

As if suddenly sensing Arya’s internal conflict, Jon released her and stepped back.  He was beaming.  Smiling with his whole face the way she should’ve been.  She mimicked his expression, forcing a lightness she did not feel.  One of the dragons screamed in the background drawing both of their eyes back to the sky.

Two dragons, she remembered why that was wrong.  The Dragon Queen was meant to have three dragons.  Three dragons like the Targaryen sigil.  One was missing.

“An army of the dead,” Arya said.  She had heard Jon and a small band of warriors had travelled beyond the Wall to capture a Wight.  They must be more fearsome than any of the stories would have her believe if they were capable of taking down a dragon.

“I’ll protect you,” Jon promised. “You, Sansa, and Bran I’ll keep you all safe.”

He didn’t understand. She wasn’t asking for protection. She only wanted to know what he knew. He’d fought off the White Walkers more than once and he was still standing.  Still, Arya smiled at the sentiment.  It was easier this time.

“Maybe I’ll protect you.”

Jon laughed.  Five years before, even three years before, she would have gotten angry at his laughing.  Arya didn’t get upset when people underestimated her anymore.  She could always twist it to her advantage. She could walk freely wherever she pleased and if anyone tried to harm her, they’d be too close to evade her blade.

“You should come down and meet Daenerys.  She’s nothing like Cersei, I promise.” Jon said after he finished laughing.

“Maybe later.”

Jon frowned.  The old Arya could never say no to him.  Poor Jon.  He still didn’t know that the old Arya was dead.  No matter how hard Arya was trying to revive her.

“You know, if you met her, she might introduce you to her dragons.”

Arya had to admit, that was pretty tempting.  She frowned out at the caravan.  The dragons were circling each other.  They were clearly missing their sibling.  They kept letting out terrible cries.  To anyone else, they might sound frightening, but Arya could hear the mournful sigh in them. Below, the horse lords and Unsullied were setting up tents.  Winterfell wasn’t big enough to house them all within its walls.  Such a large sweeping army and they were all here for Daenerys Targaryen.  Arya turned to face her brother completely.

“Is that Needle?” Jon asked, nodding to her hip.

Arya’s hand dropped to the hilt almost on instinct.  She gave her brother a small smile.  She remembered practicing with Micah after Jon had given it to her.  She remembered her dancing lessons with Syrio after her father had found her with it.  She remembered spearing the stable boy through the gut after her father was arrested. She remembered losing it when the gold cloaks had come for Gendry.  She remembered Polliver using it to kill Lommy.  Arya curled her fist around the grip.

“I’m not sure which gift was better; the sword you gave me or the lessons father arranged to help me use it.”

Jon’s brows shot up in surprise.  “And have you?  Used it?”

Arya patted the hilt. Her expression darkened.  “Not as much as I would have liked.”

“We’re down in the hall,” Jon said after a beat.  “There’s a few more due to come back by tonight.  Daenerys’ general, translator, and our new smith are all down with the Dothraki now, but they should be back for dinner.”  When Arya didn’t reply, he turned to walk away.

“You’ve seen him.” She said, deciding on that look in his eyes.

“Hm?” He asked, turning back to her.

“The God of Death. You’ve seen him.”

Jon paled.  His brow knit together in confusion.  “Who told you that?”

“It’s in your eyes.” She decided against telling Jon about her time in the House of Black and White.  “I’ve seen that look before.  I knew a man who’d been killed and brought back six times by a Priest for the Lord of Light.  Who brought you back?”

“A Priestess called Melisandre.” Jon confessed.  “That man that was brought back six times wouldn’t happen to be Beric Dondarrion?”

It was Arya’s turn to be surprised.  “You’ve heard of him?”

Jon laughed again. “I’ve fought with him.  He was with us when we went beyond the Wall. The Priest who brought him back all those times didn’t make it, but Beric is here with us.”

Arya scowled.  “I’ll kill him.”  She snarled.

Jon put a hand on Arya’s shoulder.  “He’s a good fighter.  We need good fighters.  Whatever squabbles you have with him, stow them away.”

Arya huffed.  She could spare Lord Beric.  She didn’t have to like it, but she didn’t have to kill him. The Red Witch wasn’t going to be so lucky.  Beric may have sold him, but it was the witch that killed him.  When she saw her again, as the witch had promised, it would be the same minute that Arya cut the woman’s throat.

She turned back to the dragons.  Jon stayed for a few minutes more, but left when he realized Arya would say no more. She stayed on the bridge until the dragons disappeared from the sky, following the sun.  She wondered where they had decided to take up roost for the night.  Winterfell was not fit to house such large beasts and Arya knew of no caves for them to sleep in.

Her stomach growled and it would seem she could avoid it no longer.  She had meant to take a bath after her training session that morning. Sansa had insisted that while she need not wear a dress, Arya must at least be clean for the Queen’s arrival. Arya sniffed at herself.  She didn’t smell terrible.  Besides she had no intentions of getting close enough for the Dragon Queen to smell her.

Arya turned for the great hall.  It was time to go make nice with the Targaryen girl.

“Arya!” Sansa scolded in an impeccable imitation of their mother.  “Where on earth have you been?”

Arya stared at her sister stoically until the older girl folded and looked away.  Sansa was still scared of her though she did everything she could to hide it.  Arya knew just as she knew that Sansa truly had nothing to fear.  Arya could no more harm her sister than she could birth a dragon.

“You Grace,” Sansa said, addressing the woman to her left, “may I introduce my younger sister, Arya.”

Arya looked at the silver haired woman.  She’d heard tales of the Targaryens all her life.  How their beauty was otherworldly.  Arya could see now that those tales held true.  Daenerys was gorgeous.  She had creamy skin to rival Sansa’s.  No wonder her sister despised the woman so much though Arya knew it had to do with more than just her looks.  Sansa had wanted nothing more her whole life than to be queen.  She never would with Daenerys and her dragons around.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Arya.” Her voice was stronger than Arya would have guessed.  Strong, but undeniably kind.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Arya flicked her eyes over to Jon.  She noticed how close he was sitting to the Queen and remembered how he had called her Daenerys.  No title. Arya bit her lip and turned her eyes back to Daenerys.  She smiled.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to what I’ve heard of you.  And, please, it’s just Arya, Your Grace.  I’m no lady.”

An amused smile danced across the Queen’s plump lips.  Arya couldn’t blame Jon.  Any man would find a woman like her irresistible.  What could it be like, Arya wondered, to wear that face?

“Do we need to make room?” Daenerys asked, unaware of the horrendous thoughts happening in Arya’s head. She looked around the long table for a spare seat for Arya.  Arya looked beyond Jon for the first time and saw that she recognized one more person at the table.  Tyrion Lannister.

“No need, Your Grace, I am perfectly happy sitting down here.”  She gave a small bow and turned away.  She’d be asking Jon about the imp’s presence the moment they were alone again.

“Should’ve guessed you’d be skulking around here.”

Arya felt every muscle in her body lock up.  She turned her gaze up, up, up until she saw his face and could deny it no longer. The Hound was standing in front of her. The bloody fucking Hound.

“You should be dead.” Arya told him as if he had forgotten.

“He should be going hungry,” Jon muttered from his seat.  Arya looked at him curiously.

“How was I to know, eh? You and your stupid mission.”  The Hound growled.

“You’re lucky Queen Daenerys was there to save our asses.” Jon snapped back.

“Not all our asses, Lord Snow.”  Arya cast her eyes on Beric Dondarrion.  He smiled down at her.  “Glad to see you made it home safely, little lady.”

Arya scowled at him. “Shame you didn’t have the chance to sell me off, too.”

Beric opened his mouth. Arya just knew he was going to give her more yarn about how it was for ‘the greater good’ or whatever.  Luckily, Jon stepped in.  Probably more to keep Arya from gutting the scoundrel in front of his new lady love.

“Lord Beric, could I see you for a bit?” Jon was around the table and ushering Beric away from Arya and out of the hall.

“Arya!” Sansa hissed at her.

She looked back at her sister.  Sansa swiped her hand through the air in front of her neck and mouthed the words ‘cut it out’.  Arya rolled her eyes.  The Hound stepped around Arya and bowed in front of Sansa and Daenerys.  He may have earned his way off her list, but Arya still didn’t exactly like the Hound.  He was the antithesis to her father in terms of what a man should be.  He wasn’t noble or refined, but he was alive.  She couldn’t decide if that made her happy or not.

“Where’s Bran?” Arya asked Sansa.

“Same place as always.” Sansa answered, bored.

Arya took a plate of food and sat down to eat.  The hall was brimming with people of all sorts.  She finished her first plate and went back for seconds.  She hadn’t thought about eating since seeing the dragons. Now she couldn’t get enough.  She downed two glasses of ale and sighed, content only after her third helping.

Arya wiped her mouth and stood.  She had no desire to stay in present company any longer than necessary.  Jon was still away with Beric when Arya made her way back to the long table to say her goodnights.  Daenerys smiled at her when she approached again.  Arya forced herself to smile back.

“Are you leaving?”

“I have other matters to attend to.” Arya said delicately.

“Are you sure?  I would like to know you better.  All I have to go on are the stories your brother and Lord Tyrion have told me on our journey here and what little your sister seems to be willing to divulge.”

Arya eyed the imp who seemed entirely too focused on the plate in front of him.  Arya smiled at Daenerys politely.

“There really isn’t much else to know.”

“I don’t believe that. You escaped a whole army of men when you were what?  Ten? Anyone capable of something like that must have only grown more skilled.  And you carry a sword and a dagger.  I don’t know many women that do that.”

“Maybe some other time?” Arya said, desperate to leave the hall.

Daenerys’ face dropped. “Alright, then.”

Arya gave a small bow to Daenerys and a nod to her sister before moving for the exit.  She only made it a few steps before the door opened and a small troop of people lumbered inside.  A dark skinned man with the grimmest face Arya’d ever seen stormed inside followed by a beautiful dark skinned woman and two soldiers.  The door shut behind the fifth person.

Arya’s heart stopped. His hair was shorter.  Almost nonexistent making his ears stick out comically.  But it was him.  Arya gave her head a small shake.  It couldn’t be him.  The witch had killed him.  His blue eyes locked on hers.  His mouth fell open in surprise.  Then, a slow, delicious smile spread across his face.

He stopped a foot or two in front of her, still smiling that easy grin of his and Arya still couldn’t find her breath.  She watched every movement.  She was sure it was still loud in the hall, but her ears were filled with buzzing. Gendry dropped into a low, ridiculous bow.

“M’lady,” he greeted.

Arya let out a small, strangled noise that seemed to start her breathing again.  Gendry straightened back up and looked at her with concern. Arya’s whole body was shaking as she threw her arms around him, hopping up to catch him around the neck.  She felt a bit of pride in how strong she’d become when he had to take a step back to keep his balance.

“You’re alive,” she heard herself gasp.  “You’re alive.  You’re alive! Gendry, you’re alive!” She marveled.

Gendry’s strong arms were around her, squeezing her like they used to.  She buried her face in his neck, surprised at the tears she felt on her cheeks.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried.

“You, too, though it’s not so much a surprise.  You’ll be the only one of us to survive this mess.  I’m sure of it.” Gendry answered, still holding her tight.

“And you!” Arya argued. She had him back!  She couldn’t think about losing him again, now.

Gendry set her down, keeping his hands on her arms.  He smiled down at her face.  His eyes were shining with tears, too, though they had not yet fallen.  He reached up with one hand and tugged the ends of her hair.

“Look how long it’s gotten.” He teased.  “You almost look like a real princess.”

Arya laughed, surprising even herself and reached her hand up to rub his nearly bald head.  “You’ve gone and cut all yours off!  Wanted a sneak preview of what you’ll look like in thirty years?” She teased back.  She hadn’t teased anyone in years.  She hadn’t laughed in longer.

“You come work a forge with hair like that, your head’ll catch fire.” Gendry told her, touching his head, self-consciously.

Arya was still trembling. All she wanted was to hug Gendry again and never let go.  It was an insane desire.  There was an army of undead soldiers marching for them as they spoke and all she wanted was to take Gendry and disappear into the woods.

“Excuse me.” Arya looked up to see the dark skinned woman standing beside them.  “Queen Daenerys would like to speak to you.”  She told Gendry.

Gendry looked startled at the woman’s appearance.  He looked around, abashedly and nodded.  His hands dropped from Arya’s arms and he stepped away from her.  Arya’s heart squeezed.  She didn’t want him to be even one step away from her.  She fought down the impulse to cling to his shirt.

Arya shook herself. It was ridiculous.  She was acting like someone gone mad.  She glanced up at Sansa who was giving her a smug little smile. Arya scowled at her and turned her back, hurrying out of the hall and well away from Gendry.

So distracted was she, that she didn’t notice the drunken red haired man slumped against the stables. She rammed her face into his back toppling them both into the mud.  Arya growled and jumped to her feet.  The red haired man didn’t stand back up.  Arya had a sudden fear that he was dead.  She reached down and pulled him up until he was sitting.

“Hey, hey, are you dead?” Arya demanded.

“Nnno.” The man answered. “Not yet.” His eyes were shut and he was swaying.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Tormund.” He hummed. “You seen a woman around here?”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s a big woman.  Like a bear.  Big, blonde bear.  Lovely woman.” He slurred.

Arya stood up and put her hands on her hips.  The filthy drunk was covered in mud and searching for Brienne.  She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Brienne knew this man in the first place unless it was through combat.

“Arya!” Gendry called behind her.  She yelled at herself to behave.  It was just Gendry.  She didn’t know why she was acting like it was a big deal.  He wasn’t a dragon. He was just Gendry.

Just Gendry grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him.  “Hey, what did you run off for?”

“I didn’t run off.  I was already leaving when you came in.” Arya told him coolly.

“Leaving?” Gendry parroted. “Leaving Winterfell?”

“Leaving for bed.” Arya clarified, though she didn’t think she should need to.

“Oh.” Gendry tucked his hands under his arms and tried to hide a shiver.  “I just thought….”

“You’re the new smith Jon was talking about, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Gendry laughed. “Well, there’s loads of new smiths right now, yeah?  The forge is being added onto as we speak.  Jon’s made me overseer.  Sounds like a good thing, but any mistakes in the weapons comes down on me now.”

Arya smiled at him. “You can handle it.  You’re the best.”

Gendry smiled and looked down at the mud and snow at their feet.  He looked back at the hall when the door opened and a couple soldiers filtered out.  He cleared his throat.

“Surprised to see the Hound still walking around.  I figured he was good as dead the second you laid eyes on him.”

Arya frowned.  “Why would you assume that?”

“Well he was on your list, wasn’t he?  Joffrey, Cersei, Ilyn Payne, Meryn Trant, the Mountain, and the Hound.” Gendry recited.

“You remembered my list?”

Gendry chuckled. “Arya, you must’ve recited that list in my ear a million times a night.  Sometimes when I’m working, I start saying it as I swing my hammer.  I heard Meryn Trant was killed in a brothel in Braavos and Joffrey choked to death at his own wedding.  You take out the Hound and you’ll be half through your list.”

Arya shook her head. “I already took him off.”

“Why?”

Arya shrugged.  “I just did.”

“Well someone oughta kill him after what he did North of the Wall.” Gendry grumbled.

Arya stared at him. “North of the Wall.  You went North of the Wall?”

Gendry smirked. “Jealous?”

Arya smacked his arm. “Idiot!”

Gendry laughed.  He nodded to the red haired man on the ground behind her.  “He went, too.  I think you’d really like it up there, you know.  It’s all wild and dangerous.  We were attacked by an undead bear soon as we stepped foot outside Eastwatch.  Oh, you’d love it.”

Arya rolled her eyes.  She was a bit jealous, but there was something else. She was angry that Gendry had risked White Walkers and nearly got himself killed before she’d gotten to see him again.

They stood in silence for a bit.  There was so much to say between them it seemed neither of them knew where to start. She didn’t know what to ask him first. She wanted to know more about what happened with the White Walkers.  She wanted to know where he’d been all this time.  How he had survived the Red Witch.  Why he hadn’t tried to find her sooner to let her know he wasn’t dead.  

“What happened?” Gendry asked, beating her to it.

Arya looked up at him. Searching for clarity.  Was he asking why she hadn’t chased after him when they’d tied him up and thrown him in the back of a cart like luggage?  Why she hadn’t fought tooth and nail to keep him at her side?

“When I heard about the Red Wedding – about your brother and mother – I kept waiting for news of you. The Brotherhood was taking you to them and I thought if they’d taken you there, you’d be dead.  I thought, surely not.  Not Arya.  I didn’t know your brother, but I knew you and I thought maybe they could get the best of the King in the North, but not my Arya.”

“I got there in the middle of it all.” Arya told him, ignoring the thrill that ran up her spine at hearing him call her ‘his Arya.’  “I couldn’t do anything to stop it, but I saw.  I saw when they paraded my brother’s body around with Grey Wind’s head sewn on his body where his head should’ve been.  But the Freys didn’t know I was there.  They didn’t see me.  None of them ever saw me until it was too late.” She finished, darkly.

“That was you, then? The Frey massacre?”

Arya scoffed. “Massacre. They only drank poison.  It was a kinder death than any of them deserved.”

Gendry frowned.  “How many people have you killed now?”  The question was only curious.  There was no judgement behind it.  Not like when Sansa had asked.  Or demanded.  Arya shrugged.  “You don’t know or you don’t want to tell me?”

“I guess I just stopped counting.”

There was a pause. The silence between them twisted in the air and threatened to strangle the very breath from Arya.  She didn’t know if she could handle Gendry being horrified by her.  Anyone but him.

“So unladylike.” He said at last.

Arya’s eyebrows shot up and she barked out a surprised laugh.  Relief washed over her. She pushed Gendry, lightly.  He caught her hand up when she pulled away and gave it a small squeeze.

“What about you?  I thought for sure that witch was going to kill you.”

“No.” Gendry said.  He flushed, curiously.  “She was going to, but she didn’t.”

Arya frowned at his red face, visible even in the low moonlight. Behind her, Tormund let out a laugh that sounded more like he was choking.  Arya looked down at him.

“She tied the boy to the bed and had her way with ‘im!” He crowed.

Arya looked back to Gendry for denial.  He only burned brighter.  Arya felt a crazy, jealous rage in her gut.  It didn’t make any sense, the jealousy.  The rage she understood completely.

“She put leeches on me.” Gendry muttered pathetically.

“She didn’t kill you.” Arya snapped back.

Gendry was quiet.  He shot a withering glare at Tormund on the ground who only laughed harder.  Arya was warring with herself.  She wanted to leave.  To go to bed. But at the same time, she didn’t want to let Gendry out of her sight.  Not ever again.

Arya huffed and turned for her room.  Gendry’s hand shot out to grab her, but she evaded him neatly.

“Arya, come back!” Gendry cried.  “What about Tormund?”

“You like redheads so much, you take care of him.” She lobbed back without stopping.

Also available HERE on AO3!!!

[zippdementia]

Part 72 Alignment May Vary: The Vortexian Spires

The best laid plans...

Before tonight’s session, I had made some notes on what I intended to lead the group through. They were to go to the Vortexian Spires where the Aether Craws roosted. The spires I described in my notes as huge floating pillars, the broken remnants of a Cloud Giant’s domain, a Cloud Giant who challenged the god-like Genies and was rewarded for his avarice with the destruction of his kingdom. My notes read “He is still imprisoned underneath the Citadel of Ice and Steel and sometimes the city shakes as he rages against the walls of his prison.” Down from the spires dangle impossibly large chains that wind their way up past humungous waterfalls to the underside of the spires themselves, which are littered with the nests of the Aether Craw. A quick trek through some caves leads to the “overside” of the spires and the players’ goal.

Here’s what I believed would happen tonite... this is taken from my notes. As you read through it, note how linear it is and how everything is fairly pre-determined. I’ll talk about that in a moment...

The players, accompanied by Star, Puck, and Alyss, would start out the session already at the spires, climbing the chains. Star shows them these grapple hooks, kind of like the hookshots in Zelda games, which can fire off with pneumatic hisses and pull players across great distances if aimed right. Using these to climb the chains, the players would be attacked on the way up by a giant serpent swimming effortlessly through the sky waterfalls. It was meant to be a beatable fight, though made tricky by their precarious positioning.

They make it to the top, and see the nests, the birds swarming over the peaks like colorful adornments. Star finds the biggest bird. She is going to go for that one. She grapples off towards it and has the players follow, telling them that it will take a show of character and strength to win over their prize. A series of challenges follow to help Star tame the beast.

Once astride, the creature takes off through the mists. At this point, there is a cry below them and Star looks down to see another large bird with a strange wing. Her eyes widen. “It’s Feserania’s bird!” (see previous post for the significance of this) She says she has to catch that bird and gives the reigns over to the players, telling them they are going to have to demonstrate their strength to the Aether Craw in order to ride it. “Meet me on the tallest spire!” She then leaps off, grappling into the mists.

The players are left to handle the Aether Craw and must win contests of strength against it as it dives and spins through the air. After succeeding three times, they control the mount and tame it and make it to the highest spire to await the coming of Star. 

But she never shows and as the day wears on (between three suns, there is never night on the plane of air), the weather begins to shift. A massive storm hits and the Craw becomes agitated and demanding to flee, only controllable by a combination of three successful charm checks or strength checks.

If the Craw doesn’t flee, they are hit with a screaming gale. Puck calls out that it is an elder elemental, they must flee. Regardless, the players are attacked by three air elemental. They may be able to use the Craw creatively to escape as they are chased through the floating spires. If they succeed on all of this, they have their mount. They must name him and prepare for the race.

... are not as good as the machinations of the moment

When I first started DMing three years ago, I meticulously planned everything out. Encounters, NPC scripts, item lists, treasure lists... I rehearsed fights and memorized spell effects and ran scenarios to figure out what would happen if Tyler did this, or Morgaknight choose this attack, or Kavan targeted this guy with this move. I would spend two hours designing and stating out a fight that the players may never face.

All of this taught me things. I learned how CRs on the page translated to CRs in actual combat. I learned many spells and treasure effects. I got deep into the mechanics behind DnD 5e and feel genuinely more nerdy because of it. The best lesson I learned, however, was how NOT to prepare for Dungeons and Dragons and how that makes a game better.

Recently, I’ve been embracing this notion more and more. So when I looked over my two page of notes for the upcoming session and found them to be fairly detailed and descriptive of everything that I suspected would happen that session, I realized something needed to change. I tossed aside the notes and destroyed everything I’d written with two sentences spoken to the players at the beginning of the session:

The Vortexian spires await you. How do you want to get there?

I just handed the keys to the bus to the players. And of course what followed was a dozen times better than my original notes.

So the players decide to ask Immerstal for his help. And because I legitimately don’t know how well connected he is out here, I have the players roll for him. And they roll low. An 8, to be precise. And because of this, I have to make up some sketchy NPCs on the spot, with ulterior motives. Oh, and an airship that will actually take the players to the Spires despite the poor roll (because failed rolls are so much more interesting when they complicate instead of just blocking). I start describing the airship and Stalker (Carrick’s player) says the ship reminds him of the koopa kids from Super Mario Brothers 3.

This is how the players end up riding to the Vortexian Spires with the Koopa Kids. Only here they are a cursed Genasi family, the Minja family, cursed by a Genie for trying to trick it into giving them wishes, forced to wear this bizarre half-human, half-turtle hybrid form. It’s a little creepy, really, as some parts of them are recognizably human and the whole image just doesn’t fit together. Their leader, Otto, explains how they have fallen and how the once proud family is now a bunch of (get ready for it) “Remade Mutant Minja Turtles.”

And this is how what was planned to be a simple and quick opening to a session turns into an entire memorable session with a single roll and an offhand comment. Let’s go down the list and see what changes:

The players, accompanied by Star, Puck, and Alyss, would start out the session already at the spires, climbing the chains.  

Instead the players start on board the Minja ship, where they learn that the Minja family is trying to pay off their debt to their Genie tormentor and that they believe they can kill and harvest a bunch of body parts from the Aether Craws for a ton of gold. The players realize this and quickly make (successful) rolls and speeches to convince the Minjas to instead try and tame the Aether Craws, accept their broken nature, and find peace by bonding with the birds. In an unusually impassioned speech, Imoaza asks them “aren’t you really just looking for someone to accept you?” The Minjas are moved to tears and plan to help the players.

Star shows them these grapple hooks, kind of like the hookshots in Zelda games, which can fire off with pneumatic hisses and pull players across great distances if aimed right.

The Minjas give the players the grapple hooks and they all grapple off to the chains, pulling the airship alongside and leaving Alyss to man it. This grappling plan... it doesn’t go great. Imoaza and Aldric make it to the floating island fairly easily, but Carrick botches his chain roll and plummets down into the open abyss that is the air planet, only saved at the last minute by grabbing one of the Minjas (a silent bloke named Plato) who barley manages to hookshot the chains and pull them to safety.

Using these to climb the chains, the players would be attacked on the way up by a giant serpent swimming effortlessly through the sky waterfalls. It was meant to be a beatable fight, though made tricky by their precarious positioning.

Because Carrick is the only one climbing the chains, he and poor Plato are attacked instead by the serpent. It’s far too strong for Carrick to take on solo (and Plato isn’t much of a help, his attempt to cast powerful time stopping magic failing to do anything). The snake chases them around the chains, breathing lightning, snapping down with its mighty jaws, and trying to shove them off with its powerful coils into open air. Carrick finally chases it off when he dives inside its mouth and channels divinity from inside it, backfiring its own electrical energy down into it. It doesn’t kill it, but it flees from him, terrified by this display of power. And also by something else, growing beneath them.

It is the elder storm, brought into the scenario a lot sooner because it felt better to put it here and drive the action forward (hilariously, I tried to bring it in earlier, but all the players failed their perception rolls so badly, they failed to sense the storm building up). It begins to form a vortex around the chains beneath Carrick and he begins to climb madly, as Plato finally begins to speak to him in a long winded and almost non-sensical manner about the philosophical nature of storms: 

“The question that we face here while staring into the abyss of the storm is not so much whether we believe that the storm exists beneath us, but whether we believe the nature of the storm is to do us harm. In fact, if the storm is simply a part of nature itself and is acting according to the nature of being a storm, then if we fall into it any effect it has on us is also part of our nature, the nature of being in a storm. Therefore, we do not have to consider what happens to be harm, but rather simply us living out the expected act of being and the storm acting out its purpose in being. Of course, this all assumes that nature itself has a purpose and is not a simple random connection of events and forces.”

They see the nests, the birds swarming over the peaks like colorful adornments. Star finds the biggest bird. She is going to go for that one.

While Carrick climbs, Imoaza and Aldric climb up through the underside of the mountain to come out on its surface. Here they, the Minjas, and Star and Puck begin to try and plan a route to the birds that won’t disturb the nesting. The Minjas say they are super stealthy and good at this kind of thing and, well, earlier Imoaza failed an insight check into these guys, and so now that comes into play. She believes them, and convinces Aldric they are “the real deal.” This is followed by a hilarious botch, a literal roll of 1 on the stealth die for the Minjas as they launch into horrible, horrible action. Battle cries are made, swords are slammed loudly together, and one of the Minjas hookshots a piece of the cliffside only to realize too late he’s hookshotting one of the Aether Craws... who promptly takes off, pulling him off the island and disappearing with him helplessly dangling from his grappling tool. Bye bye, Bill.

Mass hysteria breaks out on the island. The Aether Craw are definitely disturbed by the sudden eruption of movement and noise coming from these mishapen misfortunates charging them with drawn blades and weapons. Star desperately tries to regain control of the situation while Aldric goes running for one of the smaller Aether Craw, determined to bond with it and make it his mount. Imoaza freezes herself in the Tomb of Leviticus (a very cool Warlock effect that encases her in protective damage soaking ice for a round or two) just as one of the bigger birds drops down and rends the crap out of two Minja (in a maul using all four of its taloned legs). If not for Imoaza’s spell, she would be killed too. Instead, she breaks free of the ice in time to take cover behind a large boulder and debate what to do next. Star ends up scrambling towards her and suggesting they need to calm one of the beasts and bond with it quickly, before the whole herd coordinates an attack.

She grapples off towards it and has the players follow, telling them that it will take a show of character and strength to win over their prize. A series of challenges follow to help Star tame the beast.

Once astride, the creature takes off through the mists. At this point, there is a cry below them and Star looks down to see another large bird with a strange wing. Her eyes widen. “It’s Feserania’s bird!” (see previous post for the significance of this) She says she has to catch that bird and gives the reigns over to the players, telling them they are going to have to demonstrate their strength to the Aether Craw in order to ride it. “Meet me on the tallest spire!” She then leaps off, grappling into the mists.

So a lot of this ends up happening. The challenges, Star noticing Feserania’s bird... but Star doesn’t go leaping off any spires. In fact, the players end up leading all the action, which is better. Three birds get targeted: Aldric leaps astride one and plummets with it off the edge of the mountain, wrestling to bend it to his will with his prodigious strength. Imoaza and Star try to calm Fesserania’s Craw, and the Minjas band together to try and bond with a third, led in the effort by Otto and his daughter, Virgo (who is saving up for an art college fund). 

I roll for the Minjas and... it doesn’t go well. After they lock eyes with one of the big birds, they fail to impress it and the Craw charges them, tearing them apart into bloody hunks and finally impressing upon Imoaza that, no, they weren’t stealth ninjas and, no, they weren’t prepared for this mission at all. 

I also roll for Star and roll incredibly poorly for her attempts to bond with Fesserania’s bird. Instead, it is left to Imoaza to try and make Charisma rolls to empathize with the Craw, and she succeeds incredibly (all the more impressive because of her dismally low charisma score). Star joins her on the bird, wiping away a tear. “I’m being stupid,” she explains to Imoaza. “I thought I would be the one to finally tame Fesserania’s Craw and for a moment I thought maybe by bonding with her Craw I could maybe feel her again. Be close to her. But she’s chosen you, instead. Maybe she isn’t ready to forgive me. Or maybe she’s gone, and this has nothing to do with anything. Maybe I’m too close... I’m rambling, damn.”

Imoaza doesn’t know how to react to this. Emotion isn’t her strong suit, yet in bonding with the Aether Craw she gains a flash of feeling that makes her almost heady. Bonding with an Aether Craw is hard to describe. It may be magical in nature, it’s hard to know. It takes all the elements of bonding with a horse and cranks the dial to 11. A good horse rider can feel the horse’s emotions through every movement of the horse’s body and vice versa. With an Aether Craw, the rider has this sensation, yes, and on top of that feels like they ARE the Aether Craw. Experienced riders learn to differentiate between what is the Craw’s emotions and desires and what is their own, but as this is Imoaza’s first time, she has to focus hard to maintain her usual monotone reticence.

Someone else ends up being disappointed as well, and it is also a surprise: Aldric! He fails to bond with his Aether Craw with a series of bad rolls and ends up getting thrown off it, plummeting into the open air. This is pretty angering for Aldric, who has been trying to replace a mount ever since letting his go back at the Fane of Tiamet. And it also poses a significant problem, because it’s at this moment that the players notice the storm building up beneath the mountain. And then Aldric plummets into it.

Carrick at this point asks if Plato can cast haste on him and the Minja Turtle tries, but messes it up and instead blasts him with color spray in the face, causing Carrick to drop him into the storm along with Aldric. Carrick shakes off the spell and manages to clamber up at last onto the mountain, in time to see the remaining Minjas getting torn apart by the Aether Craw. He gets targeted himself and after unsuccessfully trying to calm the Craw goes into full rage mode.

I don’t recall how much we’ve talked of Carrick’s past. At some point, he turned from the path of good and decided that dominion over others was the best way to achieve order in the world and honor his gods. During this time, Carrick wielded a quarterstaff of his own making, imbued with necrotic energy. He still carries it as a reminder of the evil he once did, and he uses it now against the Craw.

Sometimes dice rolls just seem to go along with the story. Tonite is one of those nights. The Minjas have been terrible at everything, the Craw took to Imoaza instead of Star, and now Carrick rolls two critical hits on the Aether Craw he is fighting, and in a show of violence and speed that he has never displayed to the group before, Carrick terrifies the Aether Craw he faces, tearing into it with such ferocity that it is forced to back away in fear for its life.

At this moment, Imoaza and Star land on the mountain and Imoaza calls out to Carrick, bringing him back to himself long enough to get him to join them on the bird before he retreats into himself, horrified by his loss of control. Meanwhile, the storm is approaching. The general consensus is they have to get the heck out of Dodge.

A massive storm hits and the Craw becomes agitated and demanding to flee, only controllable by a combination of three successful charm checks or strength checks.

Inside the storm, Aldric is being battered from all sides. Lightning and thunder, tempest and surging power, lift and spin and rip at Aldric. And then, suddenly, it stops and he realizes he is gripping the Rod of Storms and commanding obedience of the forces that move around him. The storm addresses him then, demanding to know of the power he wields, calling him wizard, and asking how he came to create such an item. Aldric is honest, saying that the Rod of Storms is something he inherited from an ally and he is not sure how he uses it. At this, the storm addresses him again, asking him what it is he desires with such power. Aldric’s mind is filled with the thoughts of rebuilding the Green Company, of returning to Faerun, of being a strong leader for the Company. And the storm seems to understand.

“I will join the company,” it announces in a voice made of the elements. “And together, we shall build it into something worthy of such power.”

And with that, Aldric is ejected from the tempest, the Rod of Storms suddenly seeming to make more sense to him. A piece of the Elder Tempest is in the Rod now, though that does not mean that danger has passed. A storm is a storm after all, and nature is fickle. Aldric finds he can fly for a short moment, and he directs himself towards his companions escaping from the scene of chaos on their Aether Craw (placeholder name is Cookie, because Imoaza loves cookies, as comically established in our prior session). Aldric is none too pleased to see that the snake woman has charmed an Aether Craw while he failed to do so (he fails to acknowledge the fact that he just charmed an elder tempest). Still, there are bigger matters at hand.

The final part of the session is spent escaping the storm while Aldric struggles to direct it with the Rod of Storms. It makes for a narrow escape and a fantastic end to the session, setting us up for next time’s crazy crazy race.

And the point is? The hundred post lesson...

What this session (and this post) illustrates is how a good game of Dungeons and Dragons grows organically with the story telling. It leads me to share one major piece of advice for aspiring DMs, a piece of advice that I believe in so strongly that I would say that if you take nothing else away from the hundred or so posts I’ve made, take this.

Listen to your players. 

This is the number one rule. As a DM you have the burden of being the personal screenwriter for a television series for your players. But you also have the benefit of being able to have their immediate feedback and change direction on a whim if needed. 

If your players express an interest in something, in anything, go with that. If they are enjoying a scene, keep playing with it. If they seem to be disinterested in something, mix it up and take a hard left to bring them back.

Don’t confuse this with giving the players everything they want to happen. If a die roll or a bad decision kills them or loses them the big treasure, so be it. But when running your session, don’t be afraid to let them steer the action. Again, if they steer it directly into a cliff, that’s okay. As long as they were the ones who brought it there, they won’t mind. Probably. Not too much.

If you build a dungeon room and threw in some meaningless tapestries just to fill it out (”there’s some decaying tapestries on the walls”) and suddenly one of your players is fascinated with these tapestries, convinced they hold some deeper meaning, then give the tapestries some deeper meaning. It is clues like this that tell you what experience your players want to be having. Pay attention to that, and I promise you your games will always be memorable and enjoyable.

That’s why, when my players decided to go with Immerstal, I changed the scenario to suit it. Because they were laughing and getting a kick out of the Minja Turtles, I made them an integral part of the night’s session. When Imoaza took it upon herself to try to calm Fessoriana’s bird and managed to do it, I didn’t have Star butt in and do it better. Instead she bowed to the player’s expertise and the story changed. For the better, honestly.

Listen to your players. They will tell you what they want. This goes two ways, of course. You are also trying to tell a story and have your own style and aesthetic. A good player will understand this and will be looking to plug into that more than they will be trying to fight it. That’s a bigger issue for another day, but for now, my biggest advice to you as a DM is to listen. It’s advice that took me a while to get used to, and for my first couple of years of DMing I took hours to prepare before each session. I think it’s natural to believe that as DM you need to over prepare in order to create a good experience. But trust me: let go a little bit and just see what happens when you let things be steered by your players. Even if just a bit. You’ll be surprised the places your group will go.

[duraxxor]

Prelude of Myotis - Part 1 Benjamin Lewinters

Three months had passed since Duraxxor's reawakening and still not many knew of his existence aside from a select few. Though the Isle was a well-suited shelter for his needs, he and what few cohorts he had made the decision to move from it's sanctuary to forge one of their own. The location to this day remains a mystery despite the necessity of it for his inner circle. However, this did not cease his plots and contacts outside of the his grand scheme to locate and eradicate The Beast and his accomplices. One of his most loyal that he had no seen since the Siege of Undercity, Benjamin Lewinters, had kept tabs on the status of his children all for the sake of security and monitoring the movements of both Daevara blood and the opposition. But despite the Forsaken's use, the Faceless needed to accomplish having more eyes than what he possessed in order to accomplish this. And indeed, there are others that the Lord hadn't come in contact with for some time. Perhaps it was time to make a few changes. . .

Arcane magics sizzled and popped with the sudden appearance of a cloaked figure that materialized. Within the grasp of his left hand contained a wooden cane that appeared to keep the hunched individual fully supported even as he simply stood in the midst of a wooded hill. A faint scent of decay clung to the air that was only overwhelmed by nature's grasp on the location. A wild gryphon bellowed out as the individual disturbed his roost, spooking him to flee the location. " Gah. . .  I've really got to work on that teleportation... " The man's voice spoke between the guttural cough he possessed. Dimmed eyes peered from beneath the hood further up the hill to an cavern carved out from time's erosion. The exposed mandible clattered from the clenching of his skeletal jawline. Soon after, he would simply grunt before laughing about his own inner thoughts. " Daevara, you better not call me all the way out here just to screw around. " Benjamin slowly began to limp up the elevated terrain, cursing under his breath as a bone in his hip mimicked the echo of a tree limb snapping in twine.

Eventually the Forsaken made entry way into the denizens of this hideaway. He took three steps inward before coming to a complete pause, seeming to think for a few moments. " Oh. I almost forgot. . . " With a flick of his wrist, the chaotic flow of violet magics popped, conjuring a false landslide upon the caves entrance. " I wouldn't want any innocent Wildhammers or Whatever-tribe-those-trolls-are to wonder in here. " The sarcastic tone of his voice was as thick as the oxygen within the smothered confines of this path. A path which Lewinters willingly continued to tread down, noticing the damp darkness was growing to a point where he was consumed by the abyss. Yet, the man continued to click that wooden cane across the stone form each and every two second interval. A single minute passed and suddenly the clattered came to a halt. Only the caress of the cavern's draft created a soft wail through any whose eardrums took in the sound. Five consecutive droplets dribbled upon the right side of the Forsaken before he finally spoke out. " Alright, Faceless, I know you are here. You are always here before I am. " 

Suddenly, laughter billowed from the shadows and the fires of three rusted lanterns pulled the abyssal curtain away from the majority of this single area. " An organized man until the end, Mister Lewinters. Every time we meet, it always feels as if it starts with you painfully acknowledging my humors. " While the jawline gave way to a fiendish smile, it was clear that Duraxxor bore a masque that veiled both eyes from the Forsaken's own hidden gaze. The Faceless sat upon an eroded stone that gave appearance to that of a king's throne. The burdens of the dimly lit room also created a chittering cacophony from above, likely the avian minions of the devil himself. 

" Just like it seems every time this happens, you practically die or put yourself in a situation where you very well come close. . . Do you always have to wear a mask? " Benjamin grunted with displeasure as he tapped his cane three times. " Just get to the point, it's bad enough that the Banshee Queen is watching everything. You are not the only one with eyes everywhere. " 

" Everywhere? Hardly. Which is why I have summoned you yet again. " The Faceless tilted his head, continued to hold onto his comical expression with utmost care. " I feel as though I'm going to need more than I possess. While I have been busy grabbing bits and pieces here and there, it simply isn't enough. Real quick though, what is the status of the situation? " The talons of his right hand traced circles as if the representation of a continuous cycle was being presented. 

Another grumble was offered before Lewinters gave his answer to the masked man. " The children do well. Everything appears to be as you expected. Your father shows no signs of ill intent towards them and mostly keeps to himself. I have yet to find any traces of Telondra. Here's to hoping she burned down in that little fiasco. " The forsaken was interrupted by the sudden need to cough, sputtering ichor onto the floor in the process. " Hrngh. . . As I was saying. . . We have not seen your adversary or the witch in anyway thus far. However. . . " The Forsaken proceeded to pull some mysterious photograph from his sleeve, allowing it to drift towards the Faceless. The catch was made with ease as he appeared to be staring at it. " A friend of mine noticed that a Ren'dorei possessed quite the familiar marking on the back of his neck. It's very similar to the seal your family possesses. " 

" And where is this man in the picture at now? " Duraxxor asked with a hint of wonder and irritation all bundled up into his voice. 

" Butchered on the battlefield. Seems he thought he would try his hand with one of the Alliance expeditions for Azerite on one of the many uncharted isles. " Benjamin's voice grew hoarse in a brief moment as he continued on. " My cohort spoke of combat against this particular specimen. She claimed that unlike the other of his breed, this one appeared to weave the void in a strange, bestial manner. Perhaps a coincidence? " 

Silence descended upon the room as the two men stared upon one another. Once more three droplets trickled across the floor before speech disturbed the ambience. " I don't waste time with coincidences. I appreciate this little piece of information as a matter of fact. This actually has potential to help us identify His agents. " Duraxxor ascended from atop his throne and began to step closer to his ally with the pictorial clue in his hand. The stride in his step possessed confidence and a powerful pressure within it. Even the bone within the Forsaken cautiously tensed as he made his approach. " You continue to not disappoint, old friend. But I need you to do one last thing for me before I give you the fortune you desire. " The photograph slipped from one predatory claw to the boney hands of the living corpse. Benjamin rather than complaining aloud awaited this final task to be given. " . . . I need you to beseech Deathcleave. " 

It was at that point that Benjamin sighed with heavy discontent. " You mean that Orca of an Orc?. . " 

" Yessss. I mean one of the finest blacksmiths I have ever witnessed. I mean one of the greatest alliances I have ever forged in undeath in the beginning. I mean Dathuro Deathcleave. " Duraxxor's leathery left was placed delicately on his bound hip. The chill in the air signified the desire for this individual to be present and in his arsenal. All eyes were on the Forsaken from below and above. Not even Benjamin's irritation could hope to counter such a menacing sight that an eyeless individual possessed. " Do this, and I will give you everything you need. " 

The bone of his fingertips creaked and dug directly into the woodwork of his supporting cane. A light growl emanated from his throat before arcane magics enveloped the sockets of his eyes. " Fine. I may not like it but I know that I would rather do this than watch this damnable war break out. You had best make the vessel a well-made one. I will see to Deathcleave's return immediately. " " Excellent. " The word laced with content pleasure as he bore the grin of murder itself. " Look to Icecrown and return with him willingly. I will rendezvous with you to the north of Stormsong Valley with your reward. " Backwards steps were taken as the cascade of white radiated with crimson-imbued tendrils. The shadows in the back slowly enveloping him as a faint fit of laughter rippled across the cavern. The chittering, night wings flocked immediately wondered as a flock around and away from the Forsaken. 

Once more, the Forsaken sighed at the dramatics of this meeting despite Benjamin never seeming to care for the flashy appearances or the fear tactics that Dura implemented. But more importantly, it was the face that resembled a angered basset hound that made his discontent clear. " Orcs. It had to be fuckin' orcs. . . " A snap of his fingers was immediately given, fizzling an intangible veil across the surface of the Forsaken, creating an field of invisibility so that he could make his grand escape.

[evolutionsvoid]

Like I said for my entry on Slime Chimeras, this is a "species" that technically really isn't a separate species. The creatures known as "Flayers" are just Slimes that have adopted a certain lifestyle and appearance. Their unique look and ruthless hunting methods have made them feared by those who live in their territory, which probably created the notion that they were unique monstrosities. In truth, they are just regular old Slimes, just ones that have taken a more bloody route for survival.   While Flayers could technically be found anywhere Slimes can survive, many of them tend to live in somewhat arid environments. Places like canyons, shrublands, caves and savannas are all potential homes for them. They seem to prefer dry, rocky places that have a good source of prey. Some may wonder why they tend to hang out in places that have little water, as Slimes are vulnerable to desiccation and dehydration. The current belief is that Flayers are not drawn to these environments, but are rather born in them. The shortage of moisture and the challenges of such a habitat may have caused Slimes that lived there to take on this behavior in response. From there, they expanded out into other environments, still carrying the same adaptations to places that do not require them. Even when they are surrounded by water sources, Flayers may still chose to hunt the same way. On the other hand, Flayers that have gained access to more hospitable places may discard this lifestyle and take on another behavior. This is important to tell people, as many get the impression that once a Slime goes this route, they are forever stuck on it. This is not the case, it is just that many Flayers are perfectly happy with their current setup. As you may expect for one with such a diabolical name, Flayers are predators and vicious ones at that. Since they live in places where rain and groundwater is a bit scarce, they require a different source of moisture. Their solution is to go after the moisture that other creatures carry inside them. Blood is their primary food source, so much so that the slime that makes up their pseudobodies is tinted red by their numerous meals. I am immediately going to say right now that this does not mean all red Slimes drink blood or are hypercarnivores. You can have a crimson Slime that enjoys fruits and insect larvae, it is just that Flayers consume blood in such vast quantities that they tend to be colored by it. When it comes to hunting for blood, Flayers can go at it in different ways. Some choose to actively pursue prey, while others can set up traps and go for an ambush style. Their long tendril arms are perfect for snaking out and binding prey, which makes up for the fact that Flayers walk quite slow. A pursuit style of hunting works in environments that have cliffs and walls, as the Flayer will slowly force prey into a dead end. Ambushing Flayers will stick to caves and places with thick vegetation, as they can hide and shoot out their tentacles when prey gets close. The common tool that they use is their unique body structure. Since they are going after live prey, Flayers require a way to take down victims and deal with a struggle. To help make it easier to subdue prey, Flayers will thicken the slime of their pseudobodies to make it sticky and adhesive. Much like the Kelpie, they use this slime composition to snare prey and trap them. To further aid this ability of theirs, Flayers use bones of previous victims to help add structure to their slime. They want to add as much surface area as they can so that prey has more chances to be adhered to them. Since walking around as a thin wall of slime is a bit impractical and unstable, they use bones to create a frame to support them. With a tall lanky form, they can pull prey into their bodies and trap them in their sticky slime. The many joints and supports will fold in to fully engulf the victim, and this is when they put their names to use. When Flayers successfully snare prey, they will use the bone shards on their bodies to stab and shred them. With no chewing mouthparts of their own, the broken bone and teeth of previous prey is used instead. They wrap their bodies around the victim and begin to convulse and move their slime in a rubbing motion. The bone spurs will rip through skin and leave deep cuts, which is perfect for bleeding victims dry. The Flayers will continue to rub and shake, peeling off clothes, skin and armor so that they can bath in the prey's blood. In cases where two Flayers are hunting at once, when prey is trapped in one, the other will join in. The two will sandwich victims between their bodies and grind them to a bloody pulp. Some may find this act as humorous due to the image of two Slimes grinding against each other, but I assure you that the victim trapped inside is not having any fun at all. Often, the Flayer will not fully consume their victim and they will carry the drained corpse back to a nest. These nests are often located in caves and holes within rock, and it is where multiple Flayers will take up residence. The dead prey will be taken back to the cave and left there, their meat being saved for the young or for when they are resting. In time, the Flayers will go back to their nest and feed on these left over carcasses. The bones that are leftover are either incorporated into their bodies or are tossed into a pile for later use. When young Flayers develop, they shall go to these bone piles to make their own frames so that they can hunt prey. In time, they shall add the parts of their own victims to their bodies. 

As you can probably imagine, Flayers are feared creatures and are widely hated by the public. Their carnivorous diet and terrifying way to dispatch prey has made them famous threats to those who dwell near canyons or caves. The news of a nest being found near a settlement is enough to whip the populace into a frenzy, sometimes leading to a village-wide evacuation. At times like these, calls for hunters, warriors, knights and slayers will go out, but very rarely will they be answered. Flayers are difficult beasts to dispatch, and many mercenaries will refuse to take on such a job. Their sticky frames and spike covered bodies make attacks on them difficult, especially since their hearts are the only weak point. Those who try to stab or slash them will find their weapons glued to their hide. A moment's hesitation can also lead to a painful demise, as all it takes is a single tendril to trap you in an inescapable grip. The key is to target their heart and take it out, but that can be difficult at times. Their thick slime is opaque, making it hard to locate the heart visually. They can also hide their heart in any one of their thick joints or bulbous parts, turning it into a guessing game. Some claim that the heart is always kept in the head, but that is because those who have found out otherwise are often piles of shredded meat. In most cases, slayers will refuse to go on such a hunt. If you find someone who is willing to participate in such a quest, then they are either extremely experienced or really stupid. You will know which it is when you stumble upon the Flayer nest, as the inexperienced will often run scared at the site of flayed men and mountains of dried bones. I have had a chance to study Flayers during one of my adventures, but funny enough, it wasn't at all intentional! I had been working on my research of Nipper Wyrms out in the canyons near Fels-Len, when I stumbled upon a cave entrance hidden at the bottom of a cliff. Curious to see if it was a roost for Nipper Wyrms, I lit up a torch and headed inside. After a long winding tunnel, I stumbled into a large chamber that was filled with bones and flayed bodies. I immediately realized where I was and ran back into the tunnel for a hasty retreat. Unfortunately, two Flayers were returning from the hunt and were heading down the tunnel with their prizes. With the entrance now blocked, I had no choice but to run back into the chamber and find a place to hide. I snuffed the torch and buried myself in a pile of bones. Everything went pitch black, and all I could hear was the squishing of slime and the clicking of bone on stone. In time, my eyes adjusted to the dark, and I saw the two Flayers discard their dead prey. I waited for them to turn to leave, but luck was not on my side. They instead chose to rest, sloshing their bodies onto the floor and falling asleep. At that point, I figured I would try to sneak out, but once again, fate had other plans. Three other Flayers came into the chamber, and they all decided that it was a good weekend to laze about at home. With five Flayers in the chamber, I had no chance of escape as long as one of them was awake. For three days I was stuck in there, forced to remain in that pile of bones. During that time, I chose to observe them and study their movements. It was partly for research, but also for me to figure out a way to escape. Though I was scared stiff the entire time, I did learn some neat stuff! One was that Flayers do not like to collect or carry skulls. Any skulls they pulled from prey were immediately shattered against the rock, and they took the teeth from the broken remains. Perhaps they are too bulky for them to carry? Another is that Flayers actually care about their appearances, taking time to arrange the bones in their body and swapping out ones that do not fit right. I saw two of them squabble over a humerus once, as they both seemed to want to add it to their collection. Eventually it was settled through trade, as one Flayer took a broken femur from its body and gave it to the other. Satisfied, the other gave up possession of the humerus and left with its new addition. I also found that Flayers do not seem to be all that wary or concerned when they are in their nests. Several times I accidentally caused some bones to rattle in my hiding place, which earned some confused looks. Never did they come to investigate, they just shrugged it off. I guess they don't expect any prey to be dumb enough to enter their homes, or perhaps they are tolerant of scavengers. Another thing I learned is that dried human meat tastes kind of like pig jerky, but a lot less salty (which is mainly because it was raw). I got hungry during my imprisonment, so I had to gnaw on some loose chunks that were laying about. I think they belonged to some spelunker who entered the wrong cave, but I can't be too sure. It was rather tough and chewy, but that is because it was desiccated and old. I never ate that stuff dried before, as it is much better when it's fresh, juicy and hot off the grill. Add the right seasonings and spices, and you got yourself a meal! I practically fantasized about that while I laid in that pile. It made me yearn for the fancier dishes I had, but beggars can't be choosers!     Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian

[lonym82fanfics]

Zelink Month 2018. Day 30: Paradise.

(Chapter 38  of  this  http://lonym82fanfics.tumblr.com/post/177217153230/day-1-zelink-month-prompt-distractions-how   )

Link heard a knock on his apartment door and smiled. “Be right there.” Before heading to the door, he quickly dipped his hands in the water basin and smoothed out his hair as best as possible. With a huge smile he opened the door and he greeted his guest. “Good morning, my beautiful darlin’.” And he stopped cold when he saw who it was.

“Oh…” The postman blushed. “Well, I’m flattered, but…”

Link grimaced. “I thought you were my girlfriend…”

“Of course, of course…And here I was using this new moisturizer…”

“Can I just get my mail?”

The postman gave a quiet little chuckle and held out an envelope with the crest of the Hyrulian Royal seal. “It’s been awhile since I delivered one of these to you,” he said as Link took the letter.

“Yeah…” Because she would come herself and then they would go on the mission together. Link thanked the postman and wished him a good day before heading inside.

He cracked the seal, opened the letter, and started to read.

From the desk of Zelda, Princess of Hyrule.

Salutations Link,

He smirked. Princess Zelda was as formal as ever.

I regret to inform you an unexpected matter has suddenly came up and I cannot provide help for the scheduled mission of the 38th treasure. I, and my entourage, shall be gone for a week’s time. Once I have returned, I can give you aid.

I do apologize. Your time is valuable and I’m saddened and embarrassed by this cancellation. I look forward to the competition of this mission and bringing us closer to our goal.

Sincerely,

Zelda

Link frowned. It was kind of rude to cancel last minute, but at least the Princess apologized for it. He set the letter next to his adventuring bag when suddenly he had an idea. He strapped on his sword and shield before slinging the bag over his shoulder and headed out the door.

He remembered a lot of detail about this treasure’s location and didn’t need his usual dossier. He could get the treasure and be back home before the cuccos came home to roost. Then, when that cutie finally got her rear end on over, they could just spend the entire time on a nice, long date.

He was running ideas through his head all the while getting his horse Epona from the stables and heading out to the area. Maybe a picnic on the southern hills? The sunsets were beautiful up there.

In time, he reached the outer southern river leading to Lake Hylia. Oh wait! They could go fishing! Find a nice spot with the fish jumping, cast a line, and lay back with his head on her lap. That sounded like paradise.

However before he could enjoy that rest, he’d have to find the treasure first. Link looked ahead and he could see the split in the river. He figured he’d just mosey along towards the right bend and soon he’d reach his goal.

He’d spent most of the morning traveling and the rest of the afternoon searching at the river’s end.

“There’s has to be some sort of clue,” he muttered while looking around a couple of trees. He called over to his horse. “Hey, Epona, you see something, girl?” he asked with a playful smile. Epona didn’t even look up from eating the grass. “Nothing, you say? Well, alright.” He gave a soft laugh.

After finding nothing on land, Link turned his attention to the river. He walked along the river until he could no longer see the bottom. He then got in the water, submerged himself, and swam downstream. He looked along the edges, surface for a breath and repeat.

After a while, he paused his search. He treaded water while considering his options. He was some distance from the river’s end. If he went too far, this place wouldn’t fit the description of the treasure’s location. And if that was so, then perhaps he should try another place. Maybe there was an underway entrance buried in the shallow end. How would he check? It seemed wasteful to randomly bomb the area…

“Hello!”

Link let out a yelp of surprise, as someone had breached the surface in front of him. “R-Ruteau!”

And the Zora Princess laughed at him. “I didn’t think I could sneak up on you. You should have seen your face.”

Link let himself sink a little and fumed under the water.

“I must say, I certainly didn’t expect to bump into you today,” Ruteau said as she looked to the right and left of Link.

Link raised his eyebrows and smiled when he realized why she was looking around. “She couldn’t come this time. Royal duty and all that.”

Ruteau scoffed and pouted. “Well, how rude. I’ve come to expect seeing her when I see you.”

Link shook his head. “I’ll tell her you miss her.” Ruteau looked off to the side. “Anyhow, Ruteau, since I got you out here, have you seen any underwater caves this area?”

“Caves? No. Not in this area. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you see, hey you mind we swim to shore? I’ve been swimming for awhile.”

Ruteau shook her head and they continued their conversation on the river bank. “So, you see, I’m doing our treasure hunting thing...”

Ruteau faked a yawn.

“Yeah, yeah, I know how you feel about it, Ruteau.”

She smirked.

“So, the description said the treasure was located on the right wet head of giving. I figured this must be the place. This river has two heads and it’s a water source. But I’m not having any luck finding anything.”

“Hmm.” Ruteau looked towards the end of the river. “This place does seems to fit that description. However, if it’s not here then...Oh...Oh…Oh no...it can’t mean…” Ruteau made a disgusted face, “that…”

“Don’t keep me hanging, lady. What’s this place you thinking of?”

Ruteau gave a pained expression. “Get your horse and follow me downstream. I’ll show you.”

After a short time they reached a minor lake near Zora’s Domain. Ruteau beckoned Link off his Epona and they swam to an underwater cave. It lead to an air pocket and Link saw on the ledge what Ruteau meant.

“Ah…” He looked it over. “It’s…”

“Hideous!” Ruteau proclaimed. “Simply hideous.”

Link couldn’t help but agree. “So, why is there a two-headed statue here?”

“Tsk, a neighboring kingdom gave this to my ancestors as a gift. They thought it was lovely, but no. Anyhow, they couldn’t just get rid of it. So, the king at the time moved it here and decorated this place to look like a shrine.” She turned to Link. “A shrine of generosity. Which is what I think refers to the giving part of the description.”

“I mean, so far it fits most of it. All it needs is,” he stopped as he heard a plop. They looked up at the right head. Link got out of the water and climbed up the statue. Soon he saw a drop of water fall from the ceiling into the decorative hat of the right head. “Huh.” Link looked and in the small basin was an opal in the shape of a shell. He collected it and called over to Ruteau. “Got it.”

“What? Are you serious? It was that simple? And there was nothing locking the treasure in place? Anyone could have come down here and taken it! Then what would you have done?”

Link placed the treasure in his bag. “That actually did happen to us once. There was this treasure suppose to be in a desert temple, but raiders had ransacked it.” He smiled at the memory. “Long quest...but that adventure was when me and her first kissed.” The setting wasn’t the most romantic. They thought they were going to die and wanted one last moment together. And she was so beautiful. After they survived, he couldn’t help but court her. She didn’t mind at all. She admitted she had a crush on him for a long time.

“Aww, that’s sweet.” Ruteau smiled. “She’ll have to tell me more about that next time I see her. Next time. Anyhow…” She did a couple of backstrokes. “Since we got your silly treasure, let’s leave this eyesore of a place.”

Link nodded and, when they reached the shore, they said their goodbyes.

“And tell her she better come with you next time. Or, or...umm, oh, or I’ll steal you away from her.”

Link chuckled. “And get an ugly gift like that statue? No thanks.”

They laughed and Ruteau splashed away.

In a week’s time, Princess Zelda finally arrived at Link’s place and knocked. The door opened a smidge. Link wanted to verify it was her first before he opened it and proclaim, “Good morning, my darlin’!”

“Link! I’m so happy to see you. How have you been?”

“Wonderful now that you’re here. Ready for the mission?” He walked back into the apartment and she followed. “I got us some aquatic equipment for this one.”

“Yes. That’s a good idea. I think the treasure may be in the river that flows south of…”

Link gently tossed her something and she caught it. She opened her hands and saw the opal shell. She blinked and looked at Link. He was holding two fishing rods. She blinked again and looked back to the treasure. She opened her mouth but shut it. She wanted to confirm, but she had a fathom of what he did. She felt annoyed. His grinning face weren’t helping that feeling either.

She set the treasure on the nearby self, place the other hand on her hip and cocked her head. “You,” she began, “are such a pain.”

He tossed the fishing rods on the bed and scooped her up in her arms. She gave a delighted cry and laugh, as he spun her around. When he stopped she slowly sank down, slinking her arms around his neck and kissed him.

And Link decided, it didn’t matter where they went; anywhere with her was paradise.

[poisonappletales]

Arsenik, say a girl in a hypothetical sense wishes to court Viktor. What must she do in order to earn your respect to try and court your beloved nephew?

“Ah, Miss Livi. My nephew mentioned you. You’ve given him a beautiful gift every year for the last two Valentine Day’s, haven’t you? You’re an excellent poet. Is it strange to say that it’s inspiring me to write something?”

[His brows furrow faintly, lending his gentle smile an apologetic slant.] “Forgive me, that wasn’t a secret, was it? My nephew tells me everything he receives. It would feel stranger to put up a pretense of not knowing, but if it bothers you, I can certainly do so next time.”

[He gives a good-humored chuckle.] “Now then, you were asking for a…hypothetical friend? In my clan, it’s more common for a gentleman to initiate a courtship, but it isn’t strictly forbidden. Besides, you aren’t a Hulder, so there’s no need for you to observe our customs.

If you’re asking about how to earn my respect…do you have a sheaf of paper? Be prepared to write this down. Are you ready?

You must gather two eggs from the nest of the one-eyed hawk. They often roost in the woods by the lake. I suggest arming yourself because they’re known for breathing fire and generally being as vicious as wolves, especially to trespassers. Once you have your prize, find the hidden cave by the lake. Crush a few of the crystals there into fine powder and cover yourself with them.

Spend two nights in meditation like this, and when it is over, eat the eggs. Uncooked, they’re not really fit for consumption, so you might faint, but if you can endure it, you will have conquered a trial by fire, crystal and night.  A woman I can respect.”

[He beams at you before giving a soft laugh.] “I hope you know I’m only teasing, Miss Livi. You don’t have to earn my respect. You already have it.” 

[He taps his chin.] “Oh, wait, this is for a hypothetical person, right?”  [The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile that one might fancy as teasing.]

“Rest assured, I believe all women are deserving of respect. If anyone seeks my approval for my nephew’s match, then simply show you’re the decent person I think you are. It’s as simple as that.”  [Leaning towards you from his great height, he lowers his voice, speaking as one prepared to tell a great secret.] “Truth be told, I’m generally inclined to think well of most people, so just don’t kick unassuming rabbits or knock over any bird nests. I really was only joking earlier.

Frankly, if you ask me, my nephew’s feelings are more important in this matter. What I think shouldn’t be the deciding factor.  I’ll be happy as long as he’s happy. He doesn’t like trouble anyway, so I don’t imagine he would be drawn to someone who would hurt him. Just a small hint about his type.”  [One of his eyes flutter shut in a conspiratorial wink.] 

“Hm? Miss Livi, you didn’t actually write down what I said earlier, did you? Hehe, I didn’t mean to make you go through so much trouble. Here, let me see it…” [With a light hum, he begins to scribble something on the back of it.] “What am I doing?” [With a hint of sing-song:] “You’ll see in just a moment…there we are.” 

[He hands it back to you with another warm smile.] “Please accept this as an apology for teasing you so much. If it’s more than you can stand, just let me know. I’ll hold back even more. Oh? Are you wondering what it would be like if I wasn’t holding back at all? I don’t know if you’re ready for such horrors, Miss Livi. But if you really want it, I’ll give you what you asked for. Feel free to tell me if you ever change your mind.”

[He chuckles.] “I’m glad we had this conversation. It’s always interesting to think of hypothetical situations, isn’t it? Although, if it had been a genuine one…I might have offered an invitation to tea with my nephew and me. Introductions are the easiest way to make connections, aren’t they? For love matches, too.

Haha, come see me any time, Miss Livi. I’ve known my nephew for a long time, so if anyone was interested in holding a courtship with him, I would be more than happy to offer tips. All hypothetically speaking, of course. Don’t worry, I know how to keep a secret.

Take care, Miss Livi. Ah, it isn’t too late, is it? I’m worried I might have kept you here for too long. If I have, allow me to walk you back. If anything happened to a lady, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”  [He smiles.] “Unless you’d like me to ask my nephew to do it instead? Hehe, all right, all right. I’ll stop.”

Whenever you turn the page over, you’ll find that Arsenik wrote on the back:

Your hand turns ink into goldFrom your page emanates the sweet, warm rays of the sun You have a heart of fair weather and white lightEarnest and pure

Your hand turns ink into goldLove and strength overflowsYou have a talent that cannot be bound or reinedSuch imagination should not be denied or restrained

Free yourselfHave confidence in who you are and all that you areHave I not said it? I believe;Your hand turns ink into gold

Beneath this poem, he adds:

“I did tell you that you inspired me to write something. A piece of advice: Don’t worry about what others think, whether it’s Viktor, another or myself. Know that you are a woman worthy of respect. I meant what I said - you are a talented artist of words and more. Don’t be afraid to express yourself.

As long as it’s coming from your heart, you can’t go wrong. Always seek to do what’s right, and don’t knock over any hawk nests. I really was kidding, Miss Livi. Don’t do anything to hurt yourself.  ◕‿◕

Hypothetically speaking, my nephew would be lucky to be with a lady like you - someone altogether lovely, creative, and loving. Such a wonderful person would already have my respect. If you don’t believe me, I’ll sign off on this paper and you can frame it on your wall.

Again, I’m teasing you, Miss Livi. But if you really want to do it, go ahead. No one will judge you for it.

With best regards from your future uncle-in-law,Arsenik of the Hulder”

[whatiswildness]

More-than-human Archives of Post-Military Landscapes in Germany and Poland

Conference Paper, 2021 DGSKA (Bremen): “Zona: Post-industrial landscapes and possible futures”.

Together, human and nonhuman histories reveal that “destroyed”, “abandoned” or largely evacuated, then “rewilded” military zones, far from exhibiting the cessation of sociocultural transformation or a social vacuum, are in fact flourishing social spaces worthy of continued archival analysis. These spaces are characterised by abundance, diversity, and political complexity with many novel convivialities and conflicts. The post-military archives now being inscribed there, are in a more-than-human sense much richer than the simplified agricultural, silvicultural or industrial landscapes dominant before bunkers were built, chemicals were dumped or bombs were dropped. 

Post-military zones refers to spaces which were once designated allied bombing targets, battle fields or military training zones, and for which military designation and actions have engendered distinct social-ecological-political futures, including nature conservation. They are often-overlooked productive spaces to engage with “more-than-human” archives which are diversely compiled here from ecological and ethnographic sources. More-than-human archives can inform new narratives of space foregrounding the lives and experiences of animals and other nonhumans, which in turn offer up novel ethical possibilities. 

Post-military zones are particularly interesting because they are rewilding. As Anna Tsing puts it, they are undergoing a multispecies resurgence toward improved liveability, spaces whose simplified ecologies of proliferation were channeled by military action but are now becoming more complex and abundant with nonhumans playing a central role.

First, this paper provides examples of human histories of post-military landscapes. I then comment on the perceptions and determinations of risk and opportunity which lead to certain post-military management actions and not others.

Second, research from the life sciences and the stories of local people are brought together to write nonhumans explicitly into those narratives, acknowledging their affects and hinting at nonhuman intentions and politics.

I choose post-military zones in northeastern Germany and northwestern Poland which have seen both spontaneous and more deliberate “rewilding” post-war or post-unification.

Deep craters and unexploded munitions lie in the sands and peatlands of the Oder river valley and German/Polish Baltic coast where the allied war machine carried out intense shelling and aerial bombing during WWII. Under the years of Soviet influence that followed, new ecologies emerged in these areas and others, abandoned by German forces and by industry supporting the war effort; open sandy heathland habitats, dense beech and pine forests, or carr wetlands and swamps. Some became Polish or East German military training areas covering up to 40,000 ha. incorporating both managed forests and exclusion zones, others became state property not managed by the military, but few saw the same intensity of human use as during the war. On the eve of unification, military training grounds and GDR or Polish government-owned forests constituted an effective buffer zone between East and West. Unified Germany began to work to erase its hard borders, both internal and international, which involved partial demilitarisation of East Germany. The final decommissioning of many GDR-era training grounds in the 1990s and 2000s was coupled with the cessation of intensive rocket testing, artillery and tank training. Similarly, military activities on the Polish side deintensified during the 1990s.  

Remote and riddled with explosives, abandoned military hardware, concrete footings, machine-gun nests, trenches, revetments, craters, and densely forested with often difficult-to-extract timber, post-military landscapes offered few opportunities for sale to private investors and became a burden on the Federal Government in Germany. As a result, some sites were handed over to the Bundesländer and in turn conservation charities in the 2000s and 2010s. On the Polish side BirdLife Poland (OTOP) has taken on management of former naval facilities. A DUH ecologist explained that conservationists are drawn to such areas, “the military created a half-open landscape typical for rewilding [. . .] not only created by large herbivores but also by tanks and grenades”.

Post-military landscapes reveal human histories of war and intense military intervention, but are now made rugged and wild through those legacies.

Pölitz synthetic fuel plant is one of 600 abandoned wartime sites or installations in what is now the northwestern Polish province of Zachodniopomorski.

At least 12 bombing raids targeted this site. In perhaps the most extraordinary night of attacks here and on nearby Szczecin on 29-30th August 1944, the Royal Air Force dropped 2200 conventional bombs, 100,000 incendiary devices, and 12,000 containers of a liquid incendiary which set the Oder river ablaze. In addition, 23 British bombers crashed in the surrounding area.

After the war Soviet troops removed much infrastructure and any remaining machinery from industrial sites at Pölitz, in particular stripping the former fuel plant of railway tracks and steel gantries.

In the 1950s some rubble from this site was used in the reconstruction of Warsaw but most was left in situ and by the late 1970s the majority of the area had become overgrown and impassable for vehicles. Polish troops undertook exercises on foot on the site with a small barracks amongst the ruins during the Soviet era, abandoned in 1994. A private school occupied a small corner of the 2km squared site for a time, but went out of business a decade ago. The fuel plant is now a place of dense vegetation, rubble and unstable concrete structures.

Like many post-military areas on both sides of the cross-border Szczecin lagoon, the old synthetic fuel plant at Pölitz experienced wartime destruction, upheaval and population collapse, and then only minor reinvestment during decades of regional economic decline, with recent conservation designation during the 2000s.

In a straightforward sense, the space is “left behind” due to the massive cost of remediation: of removal of reinforced concrete, steel and unsafe structures, above and below ground, and the presence of ordnance. However, the Hydrierwerke is also “left-behind” because the human narratives and practices which surround it are of rejection and abandonment; it is circumscribed by locals as of a bygone era preferably forgotten. The expectation of post-war settlers, many of whom were disenfranchised in the east, was that Germany would soon reclaim this part of Prussia. This expectation of impending displacement, and with it more hopefully a return to their former lands, gave rise to a belief which is only now fading with the younger generation: that there was no history and no future for Polish people here. Furthermore, they wanted retribution expressed through the ruination and rejection of the German fuel plant. 

During the early 2000s in preparation for accession to the EU, the Polish government began to designate species and habitats protected areas. The fuel plant is now legally protected for its bats, particularly the rare Barbastelle (Barbastella barbastellus) and Greater mouse-eared (Myotis myotis) bats, which hibernate amongst the ruins.

This is where the more-than-human archive intersects clearly with the human history set out so far, the bats were not placed here, but as rewilders they themselves have transformed political and material futures of the landscape. Bats among the ruins also draws us to interrogate “ruination”. As Ann Stoler argues “The focus [. . .] is not on inert remains but on their vital refiguration”. Perhaps here lie those novel ethical possibilities.

Bat experts from the West Pommeranian University first found scratch marks in the soot on the ceilings of some of the deepest burnt out bunkers in 2003. Their frequency, location, claw spacings and age represent an archive. The bats which made those marks were identified as conservation priority species by recordings of their ultrasonic vocalisations, another archive. 

Subsequently further roosts and hibernation sites were discovered and some original sites were vacated. 

Currently the greater mouse-eareds' favourite hibernation site is the space beneath a disused railway, inaccessible to even the most adventurous graffiti artists, urban explorers and dark tourists with the only access through a small crack in the floor between sleepers. The decomposition of organic material washed into the space during rains, as well as their own guano, keeps the temperature at survivable levels during the cold winters. Each year bat experts arrive to survey the culvert, and reassert the importance of the rest of the 2km squared site for their survival—the largest site of its kind in Poland. Rewilding by these bats is not simply a side-note in the history of the site, they have both been made present and made themselves present in law, preserving the concrete forms and the forest. Bats and humans have rewilded this space together.

Perhaps it is more fitting to suggest these bats have “wilded” rather than “rewilded” because it is unlikely they were present in centuries past. Cave-like spaces are required for their hibernation: predator-free, preferably large enough to get airborne within, and with stable temperatures and humidities throughout the coldest months. Yet sediments were deposited at the end of the last ice age onto relatively impermeable bedrock and there are no “natural” caves for hundreds of kilometres. Furthermore, due to climate, species mix and human management, there have historically been few suitable trees. The bats are part of a new nature, the product of “wilding” not “rewilding”.

It is not just bunkers which are undergoing wilding in post-military areas, here and elsewhere bomb craters are numerous, also harbouring a more-than-human archive as they fill with life and organic deposits, and as chemicals and shrapnel break down.

“From 1936 to 1945, the research stations in Peenemünde formed the largest armaments centre in Europe [. . .] an area of 25km²”. The Peenemünde peninsula suffered intense bombardment during the war, particularly its rocket launch sites. Prüfstände 7 on the peninsular is now at the centre of a strictly protected conservation area with access to the public prohibited. Intense bombing of Peenemünde has created a complex topography excluding many would-be human walkers and beach-goers and attracting others, due to dense afforestation, military warning signs, and exclusion zones for rare breeding birds. Peenemünde exhibits “bomb ecologies”, a place in which according to Zani Leah, “war profoundly shapes the ecological relations, political systems, and material conditions of living and dying”. The bomb craters collect water, and remain damp through the height of summer, partly due to “bombturbation” or the compaction of soil during the blast. Craters are dominated by deciduous trees—sycamore, birch and alder which grow readily on the steep sides and collapse inwards due to the loose sandy soil, widening the crater in the process. Sheltered deadwood habitats in the bottoms contribute to a mild microclimate and the craters have relatively high abundance of saprophytes, particularly invertebrates, which attract small mammals, birds, and wild boar who also use some craters as wallows. The black anaerobic mud layer and mulch which has formed over 75 years at the bottoms of those craters is full of beetle carapaces and bones, as well as empty beer cans, human waste and banana skins in more recent layers, evidence of novel ecological interactions and a window into a rich more-than-human archive. 

Soils also hold a record of chemical decay which is simultaneously an archive of organic compounds, bacteria and fungi that break those chemicals down. Borrowing from Zani Leah,  military waste “may be better understood as a kind of surreal substrate to everyday life”. For instance at the fuel plant soils have high concentrations of microbes that consume contaminants such as diesel. Bombing generates an important chemical baseline from which we might construct a more-than-human archive of decay. An estimated 1.27 million tonnes of bombs were dropped on Germany. Perhaps 10% failed to detonate and many would only partially detonate, leaving up to 100,000mg per kg of explosive in the crater soil, as well as metal casings. Combinations of RDX, TNT and ammonium nitrate were used as the fillers for explosive bombs used on industrial targets in the Oder Delta, and benzole for incendiaries. Remarkably, these chemicals are sometimes entirely undetectable at wartime bomb sites. The chemicals that emerge, as microbiota and weathering break explosives down, are so radically different that humans pay them little attention. In the case of TNT, more than forty transformation products have been identified including nitrobenzenes and azoxdicarboxylic acids. TNT and RDX may also be metabolised by plants and trees. These transformation chemicals are an archive of nonhuman reconfiguration of the material and the social on wilding sites. 

I have argued that post-military wilding sites offer particularly rich more-than-human archives arising from, at the time catastrophic, socio-ecological rupture. Bat scratch marks, crater deposits and chemical transformation products are just the tip of the iceberg. Yet it is clear from these modest examples that archival work is itself always interpretation and whether wilded spaces are, as Anna Tsing suggests, potentially more liveable, is as ever, a matter of asking “for whom?”.