#something something the pale kings desperation and hubris

[captainshyguy]

is there an answer, in the silence

[the-hollows-pale-whisp]

Kinda back in my Hollow Knight phase rn, so I'm just gonna be word vomiting my thoughts and half-baked headcanons and my vague understanding of Hollow Knight lore. Lets GO!

Do you guys think the Pale Lurker was like, a royal guard of some kind? Or just someone from the City of Tears? Because while fighting her the City of Tears action theme does play.

Like, maybe after the White Palace just up and vanished she took to the colosseum, but also still believed in the Pale King? I don't know man, based on her Dreamnail dialogue, it seems she does worship a king, or perhaps the king she worships isn't even the Pale King.

But the Lord fool.

Maybe because of the Pale King's disappearance she clung onto the Lord Fool to act in his place or something of the like, maybe she noticed he died and went insane trying to delude herself that her king is still alive and well, maybe she separated herself from the rest of the fools because of this too. Maybe that key she held belonged to the Lord Fool as well, and she's holding on to it for the one day he returns or something.

Anyways.

What exactly happened for the Nightmare Realm and the Dream Realm to be split? Maybe The Nightmare's Heart was forced to split the Nightmare Realm off from the Dream Realm because the Radiance was kinda encroaching on its territory?

Like, maybe in her desperation to not be forgotten she tried to use anyone and anything to her advantage, and hey, the Nightmare Heart has a troupe like she did her moth tribe, what if she just takes it.

Which then forced The Nightmare's Heart to make the decision to split the Nightmare Realm off from the Dream Realm.

Or maybe not even THAT.

Maybe after she came back from being forgotten she just, went after everything. Like, if she would go after the followers of Unn even though said god is just sleeping, and she went after deepnest, the Hive and the Mantis Tribe.

Why not assume that she would go after the Nightmare Realm too?

Maybe I could make the assumption that since everything in Greenpath came from Unn's dream, the Radiance basically saw it that she had the right to take Unn's followers because they were molded from a dream. Mayhaps she was even, say, jealous of the fact that Unn's subjects (or like half maybe) didn't leave them even after meeting the Pale King and that their god is sleeping.

So, say that the Nightmare and Dream Realm were one, and the Radiance assumes that dreams are hers to lay claim to and that Nightmares are just a different form of dream. What if she just decided that The Nightmare's Heart wasn't necessary and tried to dispose of them, realized she couldn't, then decided to split them?

Meh, I don't know man I'm just spouting bullshit lols.

Another thing, kinda more bullshit to deal with the Pale King I guess?

So, the final lore tablet at King's Pass states:

Higher beings, these words are for you alone. Beyond this point you enter the land of King and Creator. Step across this threshold and obey our laws. Bear witness to the last and only civilisation, the eternal Kingdom. Hallownest

A bit funny, isn't it? How the Pale King calls Hollownest the last and only civilization, perhaps you could even call it hubris. But what if, and hear me out here.

What if Hollownest was the last and only civilization...

...at that time.

Maybe before the Pale King's reign there truly weren't any civilizations, or an extremely little amount of them? He could call his the last because he saw the very last civilization crumble and fall before his eyes, perhaps he says that his is the only because the wastes cause bugs to lose their minds and such no civilizations can spawn from mindless bugs.

Except... we do know that bugs have come from beyond Hollownest. Iselda and Cornifer, for example.

But that doesn't mean that the Pale King can't say his was the last and only civilization left, because, at the time, that may have very well been true and other civilizations may have popped up perhaps either during or after his reign.

And Hollownest is called the only civilization because it was the most advanced out of everyone else, Deepnest, the Moth Tribe, The Hive, Greenpath, the whole lot of them.

We could even think about if the split happened either when the Pale King came to Hollownest or well into his reign. Maybe well into his reign was when the Radiance came back with a vengeance, split the realms, and then forced The Nightmare's Heart to go beyond the wasteland in search of sustenance, which would then lead to that higher being to find out about the ruins of civilizations and then realizing it could feast on the fading embers of something that was once great.

Which could then give it the idea of trying to promote the existence of more kingdoms when the embers were running low, or just couldn't support it anymore?

And if the split did indeed happen well into the Pale King's reign, it could sorta spread the knowledge it saw from Hollownest during its travels and subtly suggesting to certain bugs it saw potential in to try and be, well, a king or queen.

Whether that bug gave way to a short lived or long lived kingdom was of no concern for The Nightmare's Heart, either way it still be able to collect the embers from the inevitable fall.

It was just a matter of time.

(How did it loop from being something about Hollownest to the Nightmare Heart again god DAMN IT)

[vennilavee]

starcrossed

pairing: levi x reader  summary: you are a princess, and levi is your knight. and you love him. (royal au, lowkey arranged marriage au) warnings: nothing really, princess is a wild child, mentions of parental death a/n: written for these prompt reqs: one, two

Duty. Honor. Reputation. What will people say? Your life hasn’t felt like your own in years. But as the eldest princess of this kingdom, you had long let go of the lavishes and luxury of love, freedom and autonomy. Bitterness had seeped into your veins, holding you deep in its clutches. 

You had unwittingly shut yourself off from any semblance of the life you had dreamed of as a child. Rose petals intertwined with each other in clumsy flower crowns had turned into lessons in manners, maintaining appearances and hosting guests. It was all rather bothersome and trivial. Dreams slipped into line with your parents wishes, until you couldn’t discern the two anymore. What the King and Queen wanted, they received.

Your mother chastised you nearly every day. For growing older by the day and refusing a suitor. 

“No other prince will wish for a bride as old as you,” Your mother says over tea.

“Oh? They will surely appreciate the cobwebs around my-” 

Your mother cuts you off, scolding you for your vulgarity. 

“Maybe I don’t even want a prince. Did you ever consider that? Perhaps another princess is better suited for me,” You scoff.

“Prince, princess… Whomever it is. Will you find someone before your mother and father die waiting? You know your father has rebuked plenty of potential suitors-”

You only shrug, ignoring the pang in your chest at your mother’s words. Love was not for you. It was transactional only, meant to be given as a means to an end. As a means to creating an empire.

You hated it. You hated every part of it.

But still, you put on a pretty face at the countless balls that the King and Queen throw for you. For their eldest, most precious daughter. These evenings are filled with shows of opulence- your country’s colors of jet black and gold making an appearance in the decorations, the tablecloths… Even your dress was black with gold accents. It was a beautiful dress but damn, you were bored. You sit in your throne, watching man after man proposition to you and your parents about why they would be a good fit to stand proud next to you.

You’re on your third goblet of mulled wine. You can hear your father nearly hissing at you. How unbecoming of you. You pretend like the fresh memories of your mother crying to your father about how you would bring shame on the kingdom and the family doesn’t replay behind your eyelids.

Oh, well. You don’t care. You can care tomorrow, when you��re a little more sober.

You let your eyes shift to the side, where your family’s guard stands in front of you. Can you catch his eye? Can you catch the captain’s silvery eyes? Perhaps he’s still irate with you, for last night. From the clench of his jaw, you can accurately deduce that he probably still is.

You and the Captain of your guard have been sleeping together for the better part of a year. At first, it had been just for fun. When you had propositioned him, claiming that it would help him loosen the stick up his ass, he had glared at you-

“Besides, wouldn’t it be fun for you to say you bedded a princess?”

“Don’t be so crass.”

Levi would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t feel something inappropriate for you. He saw the way you operated in those strategic meetings- it was where you thrived. You had no qualms with telling off men more seasoned, more stupid than you. He had witnessed you denounce the concept of a monarchy, stating that the power should be given to the people. 

It was a shame that your natural brilliance had been reduced to this without your permission. He recalls late nights of meeting you in your private garden, to hold you with only the moon as witness as you cried about the expectations of being the eldest princess.

He could do nothing. After all, he is only a Captain. And you are a princess. All of these men, princes and dukes from far and wide pale in comparison to you. To your radiance, to your brilliance. They’re nothing. And you are everything. 

It’s torturous. He would rather be whipped than watch this. Watch the King and Queen bring out man after man in hopes that their eldest daughter might show an inkling of interest to at least one of them. He already knows how you must look- beautiful in your dress, but so bored with your chin in your hand and your goblet of wine in the other.

Levi would look back at you, but he’s irate with you. As he should be. He hates liars, he hates false promises and he hates that you thought you could fool him-

Levi’s head is in your lap as you mindlessly play with his hair, running your fingers over his scalp. He nearly purrs at your touch, pressing his cheek into your thigh further. He likes this- likes that you can both live in this bubble of delusion in your bedroom. His legs sink into your silk sheets, as if he’s been there a thousand times before. Which at this point… he probably has.

It’s uncharacteristically warm in your bedroom, much warmer than the rest of the castle is. Maybe it’s the room. Maybe it’s you.

Levi takes one of your hands in his and threads your fingers through his. You exhale in surprise, a smile on your lips.

“I love you,” You sigh dreamily. He tenses up slightly at your words. But says nothing. He’s no fool. You’re not a fool either. So why are you telling him that you love him, when you both know that this won’t ever come to be?

“I’m not leaving you. Not ever,” You murmur, pulling yourself further down your sweet, candy dreams. You even press a long kiss to his forehead and he pulls himself off of you immediately.

“What? What’s the matter?” You ask, the honey in your voice replaced with worry.

“Don’t say stupid things,” Levi says harshly.

“Stupid things?” 

“You know better than I. That this,” Levi points to him and to you, “Will never come to be.”

“Why not?” You ask, your lip jutting out into a pout.

“Naivete and stupidity is not a good look on you, princess.”

“But I’m your princess, right?” You grin salaciously, ignoring the heat in his gaze. You know, of course you know. You don’t want to face the facts. You only want him.

“You are a princess,” Levi exhales, shutting his eyes, “I am the stupid knight who fell in love with the princess. You cannot love me.”

“What can I do?” You murmur, your smile falling and desperation dotting your pretty eyes, “What can I do to make you believe me? I’d leave this behind, if I could. For you.”

“But you cannot. Do not promise yourself to me, when I cannot have you and you cannot have me.”

Your heart aches. Levi is right, but your heart still feels broken inside of your chest.

It was no secret that the King and Queen were largely disliked across the country. It should’ve been no surprise, the rise in rebellions forming in small pockets across the land. You had heard whispers, trying to warn your parents and their advisors.

But they never listened. Their hubris would be their deaths.

So when you had realized that the castle had been broken into by the rebels, you had openly shown them where your mother’s most valuable jewelry was. You had told them where the riches were.

What you hadn’t realized was that your parents had been out in the town with their guards. Where the rebels had been congregating. It had been an ambush- they had been killed on the spot by snipers.

You didn’t know. You had only thought that the rebels taking your riches was the least that you could do.

And then Levi finds you, his cheeks pink from sprinting to get to you. “Your parents are dead,” He spits out, “I need to get you out of here.”

“What?” You ask stupidly with wide eyes.

“The King and Queen are dead. You’re the princess. You’re next,” Levi hisses, “Now come with me.”

“Mama and Papa? Dead?” You ask incredulously. Your mind is suddenly in a haze, shrouded with fog. You can’t find your way through.

“Focus on me, princess,” Levi pleads with you, “I need to get you out of here. Please, princess. You can cry later. You’re not leaving me, remember? Keep your promise.”

When you don’t respond out of shock, Levi scoops you in his arms and hurries into a hidden tunnel in the library. You vaguely hear enraged shouts and explosions going off. But everything sounds muted. You only focus on Levi’s breaths fanning over your face and the feel of his heartbeat below your hand.

You ignore the sound of your castle going up in flames above you. You ignore it.

tags: @simpingmaize​ @captainchrisstan​

[teamlarl]

The Tragedy of the Sun God

Long ago, before humanity rose from the ashes, the gods departed from their creation.

The brothers of light and dark deemed humanity unworthy and in an act of divine judgement, wiped them off from the face of the world.

But mortals are resilient creatures. Over time they came to recover from the cataclysm, unknowing of the heights they had once reached. They played and lived in the mud and dirt, for they knew nothing better.

Always was a great eye watching. A golden orb in the sky, the bringer of day and life. The Sun, for he was the Son of the Light.

It was in his nature to care and to nurture, to bring life to a barren world. He had watched humanity repopulate after his uncle’s cruel punishment, he had watched them crawl out from the sea foam once more.

The Sun could not understand why his father and uncle would leave like they did, nor did he understand why they forbade any interaction with their creation.

And so the Sun, always the most brilliant light in the sky, always one to follow the beat of their own drum, visited the world below. It was a Remnant of what it once was, but there was life there, and where there was life there was potential.

Thus the Sun began to visit humanity under the cover of night, when his family would expect him to be resting from his long day of work. He took a human form to walk among the humans, and he took a human name per the custom of the people.

The Sun had a name now, one he had chosen for himself: Ra.

The more Ra interacted with the primitive peoples, the more he became sure of their potential. If only they had someone to guide them out of their squalor!

Why not himself?

Thinking that he was quite clever, Ra began his conquest of the fertile river valleys in the far west. But only at night, to keep his cover. Were his family’s attentions to be turned to his antics then all would be lost. Over time the people began to worship him and call him Pharaoh, the great house which the kingdom rested on.

At night, Ra would rule justly and fairly, bringing civilization to the primitive remnants of humanity. By day, Ra would retreat to the heavens to keep the Sun in the sky. A god did not need to rest. For centuries he ruled, and ruled well, but it was not to last.

One day, a witch from the east came to his court. Her skin and hair were as pale as freshly fallen snow, and her eyes were the color of blood. She greeted him pleasantly, always smirking as if she knew something he didn’t. The witch admitted that she became interested when she had heard of a king that did not age, one that held up the Sun in the sky.

Ra quickly realized who this woman was. It was the blasphemer that had angered his father and uncle, the one that had gotten humanity destroyed the first time. Panic overtook Ra. It would be so easy for this woman to ruin him.

And she did.

For the first time since humanity rose out of the dirt once more, the names of the Brother’s Grimm were invoked. It happened in an instant. Humanity should not know they exist, so of course it caught their attention. They appeared in the courtroom that was far too small to hold their grandeur. 

The God of Light glanced at the witch, the blasphemer he knew all too well, and then glanced at his errant son, who he knew even in this human disguise. Understanding why he was summoned, the gods dismissed the witch without punishment. She would not be rewarded for good behavior, but neither would she be punished. She lived to see another day, though that was not her intent.

The Father told the Son to come home. The Son refused. The Son argued his case, but the Father would have none of it. But the Son refused once more and held his ground. The Father found himself forced to deal with his troublesome child.

The struggle created a vast desert, one that stands there even to this day. It is a symbol of the Sun’s hubris.

Ra’s human disguise was torn from him, his body destroyed but he was a god - his spirit remained. He was dragged back to the heavens where he belonged and chained to his star. There he would remain while his father and uncle deliberated over his punishment. But eternity passes in the blink of an eye of divinity. By the time the punishment was decided a handful of millennia had passed in the world below.

The Sun struggled and screamed as he was told his punishment. As he had loved humanity so much, he would live among them. He would be the lowliest among them. His memories would be stripped from him and he would be forced to permanently take the form of a human, until such a time his father decreed otherwise.

Ra was cast down out of heaven, but he was not Ra anymore. The spirit remained, but those memories were gone, in the grasp of his father. The Sun was born a small human girl in bondage, a slave. Thus the story of Amateru began, unbeknownst to even her.

She could not have known that the Lamp, that catcher of light, she thought was her destiny was a trap. The relic was designed to beckon to her and her alone, to lure her in and make sure that the troublesome child of the Light could never interfere with the gods’ plans again.

When Amateru touched the Lamp and accepted the mantle of Jinn, she could not comprehend what she had done. Perhaps if she had still retained the memories of Ra, she would have stayed far away.

The Lamp tore her in two. The divinity of Ra and the persona of Amateru stayed with the Lamp and became the Being of Knowledge. The immortal and fiery spirit of the Sun could not be contained by such a paltry toy. It reincarnated and continues to do so over and over again, an endless cycle of power and uncertainty, always becoming a mortal that Ra loved so much.

It is an unnatural thing. A cursed thing. The Sun’s very soul scream in agony at being torn asunder, but the host can rarely tell. It is something they live with all their lives, after all. How can they be expected to know the difference?

Still the Sun and the Lamp call to each other, desperate to be one again but fated to never be.

[the-redmane-family]

Frostheart

A chilling wind gusted through the small, snow-laden vale at dusk as the distant cold sun began to sink over the western horizon. The clouds circling overhead provided a light dusting of snow uncommon for this time of year, a harsh reminder of winter even as summer crept ever closer. In this secluded location, deep in the Alterac Mountains, a small frozen lake slept soundly beneath the unseasonable cold.

At the edge of the glacial covering, a solitary woman stood, a pale blue and purple dot that almost seemed to merge with the twilight cerulean of the lakeside snow. As Thea Redmane stood alone, she held her wedding ring in the palm of her left hand, tracing the runic markings upon the band lovingly. Tenderly.

Greedily. Hungrily.

Just three days past, she had bound her Scourged husband’s soul within the confines of the small gemstone set into the band. It had been a slow, methodical project, to fashion such a secure prison out of something so small. Long nights had passed in the confines of her study, poring over forbidden texts that she had recovered from the ruins of Dalaran. Books penned by authors whose names had long since been stricken from the histories of the magocratic order; scholars and sorcerers that delved too deeply into the depraved art of necromancy, and for their hubris, had paid the price of forfeiting all that would have been their legacy.

One name, however, remained forever etched into the memory of Dalaran, whether the mages would have it or not. One scholar whose writings, no matter how profane, could not be contained or erased. Even here, she sensed the faint echo of his passage. Leaving the order that she had once counted herself among, and some years after that, returning at the heel of his king. A faithful servant whose reward had been power beyond reckoning.

But this place, my love. This place is for you and I, now.

Thea closed her hand over the ring and turned, facing away from the lake, casting her eyes off down a large snow embankment that led through a winding mountain pass. Her gleaming yellow eyes knew this place; they had kept silent vigil over its snow-covered stones for years. A body divided from a soul. As Thea turned again, she beheld the weathered rock of a mountainside… and a great frozen waterfall. This waterfall would remain frozen perhaps eternally, for it had been made to freeze not by the weather of the world, but by the twisted magic of a death knight in pursuit of his quarry. In pursuit of her, Thea the Bright, the last act of a desperate woman as she fled the wreckage of the caravan she had been charged with protecting. She grimaced at the memory as she strode toward the ice-bound waterfall.

The remembrance of the death knight’s magic ripping her soul from her body did nothing to slow her advance as she stepped lightly across the frozen water, toward what appeared to be an empty grave dug into the densely packed ice. The ice here had been made to freeze so deeply and so thoroughly that any liquid water only existed more than several feet beneath the surface. Thea stopped as she reached the grave’s edge.

It was quite large—too large to have been dug for a human. Of course, the ice had only been sundered once, and not to place anything within the grave, but to remove its contents. Thea had not been alone that day, so many years ago, when she had perished freezing and alone. Another had followed her to the same fate, entombed in a crystalline prison of death. One called—

“Frostheart.”

The word left Thea’s mouth as if to herald the arrival of the clomping hooves that now clacked across the thick ice behind her. Slowly she turned to look upon the skeletal visage of her faithful warhorse, its tattered barding arrayed in hues of purple and blue that matched her own robes. She reached up with one hand, running her delicate fingers down the horse’s skinless, furless muzzle.

I am dying, Thea, spoke a voice from the past, that of the legendary Andromath. She closed her eyes, thinking back to that moment in the venerable archmage’s study.

You can’t die, Shal. You’re one of the most gifted archmages I know. We’ll find a cure for this sickness. Dalaran is the heart of all human learning.

The archmage had shaken his head, gesturing as if to refuse the chance at more life. I can die, and I will. I must. I have lived through so many lives of men. It has been a long life. A good life. I have learned much, and taught many. I know that I can go to my rest with nothing to regret. It must be this way.

The tears had welled up in Thea’s eyes. Even as Shal had spoken the words, she had known them to ring true; perhaps truer than anything he’d ever said to her.

Always trust in love, Thea. My brightest, my best. You are the daughter that I should have had. Alas, it was not so, but I am grateful to have instructed you. Please, do not mourn with my passing. Only smile in my memory. A warm embrace had followed, as Shal had hugged his most beloved student one final time. Look after your husband, and your niece. And keep hounding Ainsworth to finish his research. I fear that he’ll become too productive without someone to keep him grounded.

There had been a twinkle in the old man’s eye as he spoke of their mutual friend, and the two had shared a laugh through tears before the elderly man beckoned her outside to the stables. Come. There is something I must show you.

Flameheart. Thea could still hear the wonderment in her voice. Your war-steed. You cannot give me this honor. With all my heart, I don’t deserve this.

Shal had led the brilliantly white horse over by the bit as the great animal followed dutifully. The stallion’s deep, intelligent eyes had met hers with something akin to a solemn understanding. A shared sadness at the imminent departure of the man whom they both cherished so dearly.

That is why he will pass to you, dear Thea. You are my greatest achievement. Yes, even as I take credit for that which is not mine to take credit for. Greater than any spell, of more value than the most precious gems or crystals, more powerful than all of the arcane energy in the cosmos… is love. The love, the goodness that you have inside you. Never lose sight of it.

The band of the wedding ring burned coldly against Thea’s dead hand as she clutched it close to her breast. The undead horse stood beside her, studying her.

“Flameheart, you once were,” she said, bringing her face close to the skeletal muzzle. “But the fire of life is no longer within you. Just as it is not in me.” The mage whispered harshly as a cold wind blew through her hair. “Now,” she whispered, “you are Frostheart. Your heart is frozen, your blood still. Just… like… mine.” Slowly she kissed the grey, bony muzzle.

Thea looked down at her palm again, and then slipped the wedding ring onto her finger as she studied it, tracing the runes once more. She smiled darkly.

“Thea the Bright,” she said, climbing atop the horse’s back, turning the reins toward the pass which led north, through the Plaguelands and back to the Undercity. “So I was called, once.”

She looked down at her ring again. Inside, the soul of her husband writhed and twisted restlessly. The mage leaned down to speak to it, as if the man trapped within could hear her. “Do not fret, my love. I will find you a body. Very soon, we will hold each other once more. And none shall separate us—not now, not then, not ever again.”

Thea looked up, speaking to Frostheart. “Yes, Thea the Bright I was, but am no longer.” A twisted, determined smile bloomed upon her dead, immaculately preserved face. “I am Thea the Damned. Who has loved as greatly as I have? Who could even begin to imagine all I have endured? Woe to they that stand in my way, and woe to those who oppose me.”

[bioticgoddess]

Exiles of Asgard (3/?)

Notes: Well...I finally finish this section. Heheh...now...to the show! Also, I took a few liberties with the actual myth this is based on. Sorry not sorry. 

Exiles of Asgard: The Wedding Job

Long ago...

 “How exactly are you planning to explain this to father,” Loki asked, running his hands through his short black hair.  As Thor vomited for the third time, the other Odinson had to stand and take several long strides towards the balcony of his rooms. His brother was definitely hung over, painfully so for Loki to bear witness.

Belching, Thor glared menacingly at his little brother. Face pale, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, he grabbed a goblet of water and took a swig. Audibly he swished the water around in his mouth before spitting into the bucket containing the contents of his stomach. “I do not,” he belched again, “Require your patronizing tone, brother.”

“Just because I’m not drunk doesn’t mean that I’m patronizing you,” he shot back, taking deep inhales from the mint that Althea had insisted they grow in planters on his balcony. Had the best light, she’d said, and – at this moment – he was thankful to have its smell. It mitigated that awful acidic and half-digested smell that permeated his once clean sitting room. Closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale of the herb he said, “I am asking because you know father is going to want an explanation about why you no longer possess Mjolnir. And we both know that there’s no avoiding him either. If our father, the All-Father, wants to know something -”

Thor sighed heavily, spitting more water into the bucket, “Then he’ll find out what he wants to know. Yes, I am aware of this Loki.”  His patience with the green and gold robed god was wearing thin. Though the mint leaves being shoved in his face were a welcome change in smell and, as he greedily stuffed two in his mouth, taste. “Thank you brother,” he mumbled.

“Thank Althea, she insisted it be grown here,” he countered, regarding his brother cautiously. His eyes narrowing, Loki repeated his initial question, “So how do you intend to explain this to father?”

Before Thor could answer there was a loud banging knock on heavy double doors. A moment later, one of the Einherjar opened the door. He spoke, “The All-Father summons you both – Prince Thor, Prince Loki – to the throne room. You’re required to appear immediately.”

“Looks like you’ll find out when he does,” Thor grinned wryly, chuckling as he wiped more spittle from his fledgling beard using the edge of his cape. A confident, stalwart expression cemented itself on his face. It spoke volumes about Thor’s ability in combat and his status as Asgard’s next king. Loki, however, knew better. He knew that at the moment his brother was terrified. Odin would not be pleased, to say the least.

Swallowing, Loki muttered, “Fantastic.”

The pair dragged themselves from the sitting room in Loki’s rooms. Adjusting themselves, the pair made the long trek towards the throne room. Even with their father seated on his throne in the centre of the palace they could feel his eyes on them in the corridors. It was unnerving. Pushing the doors open, Thor bellowed, “Father, you summoned us?”

“What in the name of my father Bor did you do! How in the nine realms do you lose the mighty hammer Mjolnir! You are unworthy of being called a warrior, let alone a Prince of Asgard!” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. It’d be a miracle if he stopped yelling at Thor – and Loki by association – long enough to get an explanation from the blonde. “How dare you return to Asgard without it! And you,” his attention turned to Loki, “You! It is your responsibility to ensure that your brother does not make a fool of himself and this Realm!”

When Frigga rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder, looking at her eldest son – disappointment filling her face, Odin relented. The old king sang into his throne, voice heavy, he demanded, “Tell me how you let this happen Thor.”

“Well, Father, we were celebrating our victory over the renegade dwarves and their siege weapons. The great show of strength and courage from our warriors,” Thor began, eyes darting between both his parents and his sibling. Loki, by contrast rolled his eyes. Quickly shooting his brother a dark glare, Thor continued, “I was served a drink potent enough to send even Volstagg spinning. Unbeknownst to me, it was more than any Asgardian could drink. Before I knew it, I was passed out – slumped over the table like when we were children first learning to drink. When I woke, Mjolnir had been stolen from my side!” Quickly he continued, before Odin’s rage filled face could turn to words, “Loki has even volunteered to help find it.”

 Eyes wide, blinking in disbelief and shock, Loki stammered, “I what?”

“There will be no need for that,” snapped Odin. “The Giant who stole Mjolnir, Thrym, has made an offer regarding the return of Mjolnir. One that I am loathe to grant him since he only has the hammer thanks to the arrogance, stupidity, and hubris of my eldest son.”

The looked between one another,  Loki spoke, “What does he wish of Asgard, father?” His words were deferential despite the patronizing hand raised that silenced Thor.

“He has demanded the hand of Lady Sif in exchange for Mjolnir,” he paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Loki understood why his mother looked so disappointed in her sons as the surprise crept across his face. By contrast, Thor’s reaction was almost immediate. His eyes darted around the room, panicked and his words melted into little more than outraged grunts. Oh yes, he was certainly his father’s son. Then in hit Loki, a plan to redeem his brother and have a little fun.

Regaining his composure ahead of Thor, or even their revered mother, Loki spoke quickly, “May I make a suggestion father? A way to get the a hammer back without sacrificing our dear friend Sif.” He had to fight the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It didn’t matter that he’d had no role in this debacle, if he got too excited about this then he would be blamed for the disappearance of Mjolnir and this Thrym’s plot to wed Sif. He continued, following Odin’s gesture to do so. “Perhaps we could give this Thrym what he wants.”

“Loki! You would abandon –“

“You did not let me finish brother,” he hissed, “No, I was thinking that you and I might go on her behalf. Say as if we were the Lady Sif and her handmaiden.” Silence fell thick over the four. “It wouldn’t be  complicated magic to make Thor appear as Sif and I could easily be perceived as a handmaiden. And the Warriors Three could come along as her escort. It would be the perfect ruse.”

--

 Thor hissed at his brother, adjusting the dress – it was uncomfortable at best and chaffing at worst. Not to mention embarrassing for him to wear, “Why did Mother and Father agree to this?” Turning to Althea and Sif, the elf adjusting the latter’s hair, “How do either of you...do anything in these!?”

 “Because it was clever, and we just do” Althea giggled, hands clamped over her mouth as she tried desperately not to cackle madly. Sif wasn’t having as much luck as the Elf – both were going along as additional handmaidens for SIf’ stand in. Loki used one of his shapeshifting spells to make himself appear female - and stolen a dress from Althea. Her wardrobe had the widest variety of gowns and most were more forgiving. Especially when all three - Loki, Sif, and Althea - would need to have weapons of some kind tucked away under the gowns.

 Sif swatted feverishly at Althea’s hands as she finished knotting and braiding the other woman’s hair. Thanks to the her actual handmaidens (and Queen Frigga), Sif’s hair had been colored a shade of blonde-red and her makeup done in such a way that she didn’t look like herself. She looked more like a sibling or other relation of Fandral - on any other day that would have made her skin crawl. Today, however, she was thankful for the disguise. It was far better to play the part of a handmaid who may/may not be kin to their womanizing friend than it was to be ransomed as a bride to a giant.

 “Well then,” Loki said, his voice going from his usual timbre to a falsetto closer to Frigga’s tone. All three of his companions turned their heads so quickly they nearly hurt themselves. Eyes wide, he wasn’t sure surprise was the correct word to describe the shared expresion. “Oh like none of you have ever seen me pretend to be a woman or speak as one before,” he said waving it off as he walked away.

 Sif regained her composure first, “Um, no, I’m afraid none of us have seen...this…” She waved her hand at him in circles, voice trailing off.

 “You as a woman is quite the sight brother, but Sif you’re mistaken my lady, he used a similar guise to sneak us out of Nornheim the last time.” Thor was grinning, ear to ear.

 ---

 Accompanied by the warriors three, “Sif”  and her wedding party made their way to Nidavellir for her wedding to Thrym. The giants living in the Dwarven realm circling the small group of Asgardians like vultures. Loki and Althea stood close together, combining small spells to keep the giants from coming too close. All the while disguising Thor as Sif while the shield-maiden-herself stood close behind the Elf.

“Ah,” Thrym hummed when the six Asgardians entered his halls, “The lovely Lady Sif! How I have longed to see you again!”

Elbowing her brother in the side, Loki hissed, “Remember what we practiced…my lady.”  She forced a smile that, despite being absolutely on edge, looked serene and natural. Only the god of mischief could claim such skills.

Thor, by comparison, fumbled and stumbled over his words. The magic of Althea and Loki making his voice sound like Sif’s. “Thrym, how wonderful to be in your…um…magnanimous presence. You are a…a…um…”

“A warrior of greater strength than even Mighty Thor,” Loki’s voice echoed softly in Thor’s ear. She hovered by her brother’s side, leaning close to give some illusion of modesty on the part of both Sif and her retinue. It also allowed her to feed lines to Thor whenever necessary.

Despite his disguise, the elder Odinson wanted to glare at his brother. For once, however, he knew the deception was necessary. Forcing the most girlish giggle he could, Thor continued, “A warrior greater than even Mighty Thor.” It made him want to vomit. Correction, to punch someone and then vomit. - It took everything the others in the Asgardian retinue had not to laugh. Though Volstagg did have his ever impressive beard to hide in.

A grin spread across the giant’s face and he motioned for “Sif” to come sit beside him. Robotically, she did just that – handmaidens in tow. On cue, composure returned, Volstagg spoke with a level of performed deference usually reserved for formal audiences with Odin, “Master Thrym, the All-Father has met his portion of your marriage contract request. We would humbly request that you reciprocate with the presentation and return of Mjolnir as it is sorely missed in Asgard. Just as you would miss Lady Sif’s radiance were she not here.”

Both Sif and her decoy glared daggers at the practiced politician.

Roariously he laughed, leaning over the arm of his chair farthest from the bridal party he pulled the hammer from a compartment in the alter table. “After the ceremony,” He chuckled darkly, laying the hammer across Thor’s lap. They could all hear the spears and longswords being drawn by the giants around them. “After all, we wouldn’t want my lady to be absconded with now would we,” he ran the back of his hand along Thor’s cheek as he spoke.

The group held their breath as Thrym smiled almost lovingly at Thor – never once suspecting he wasn’t Sif.

 “No, we would no,” the disguised shield-maiden snapped as Thor wrapped a hand quickly around Mjolnir’s handle. Before she could take the sword, wrapped in ribbons and scarves, from where it was secured at her back the very daintily dressed Asgardian Prince called down a blast of Thunder and LIghtning. Hilariously graceful, Thor moved with Mjolnir as he struck out at Thrym - sending the Giant flying headlong into stone pillar. His tribesmen, startled by the revelation that Thor stood before them all froze in place.

 A few laughed at the sight of him in the gown. Everyone saw the lightning flash in Thor’s eyes and the rage bubble into his face and voice as he roared and brought further electric fury down upon them. As tended to happen in situations like this, when the Asgardian Heir’s temper took hold, and everything went to shit.

 --- 

In Asgard’s healing rooms, wrapping bandages around Loki’s bare midsection Althea snapped, “I am not explaining this to your parents.” Her words were directed at Thor.“But I -”“No! No! No! You can explain why that gown is charged to bits, your brother has three broken ribs, lady Sif a broken arm, Volstagg’s beard is burned off, and why Fandral has a burn along his back! I am not going to be the messenger of this folly Prince of ...of...Sparklers!” The elf had not only raised her voice, but was yelling. It echoed off the vaulted ceilings as her eyes shonw like angry embers over Loki’s shoulder when she glared at Thor.

 Thor’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times, eyes wide and blank. “I...um...uh...ah...um...very well,” he stammered, slinking off towards the throne room with Mjolnir clutched in his hands.

[pixelgamer07]

Element turned towards the titanic being, tuning out the geiger warnings flashing across his HUD. “If it was man’s destiny to embrace the power of the titans, then the earth would have bestowed that power upon them. But to try and steal that fire before humanity is ready to accept it, well....” The Guardian’s polarized golden visor reflected the utter carnage and destruction that lay down below like a mirror, masking a pair of judgemental, pale green eyes. This Achim guy certainly was no Prometheus. For all this man’s supposed intelligence, he certainly was ignorant of his blatant ego and hubris.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t blame you for your actions. I’d probably have reacted in similar fashion. Less effective though, given your advantage in size, destructive power, not being deterred due to thick cloud coverage or worry of splash damage. Orbital strike, I’m referring to- you know what just, just forget i said anything.”

Element turned back to the clutch of cellphones and smart devices his seeker drones had managed to collect, along with about a dozen intact hard drives from security cameras and other electronic recording devices. Despite Achim’s attempts to silence any calls for assistance from panicked civilians, his rushed actions had caused him to forget something important; one fatal mistake that all that intellect could not account for: tourists.

Element pulled dozens of snip-its of recorded footage displaying shocked tourists pointing their smart phones and cameras at the sudden appearance of the gigantic gunship emblazoned with the mad scientists emblem, hanging over the city center. Then the confused, perplexed exclamations as the bio-chemical- no, bio-weapon was released onto the populous. Finally, the horrified panicked screams as people watched friends and family get mutated into vicious abominations that quickly turned their now feral minds onto the defenseless civilians. What came next was sporadic bursts of video upwards to nine minutes in length, depicting the initial survivors desperately trying to run and hide from the newly created swarm of mutant monsters. Most of these scenes ended in a most gruesome fashion. If it wasn’t for witnessing the aftermath first hand right here and now, Element would have assumed this was a very, very well made found film.

He honestly wished it was...

The Titan’s enraged roar of anguish and fury jolted him so hard out of this self induced daze that Element ended up with his rear end hitting the debris covered roof. Quickly, he rose and walked to the edge of the building, watching the King of monsters turn and quickly march towards the sea. “I’ll make sure this finds its way to the right people. With the spotlight shining on this bastard, he’ll have no place left to hide. With any luck, it will leave him open and ready for you to pounce!” He shouted at the rapidly disappearing Titan, watching Godzilla swiftly swim further and further away till the largest dorsal fin was barely a speck on Element’s HUD. He then turned and approached the cluster of seven oval shaped seekers awaiting their master’s orders, quickly downloading the now compiled video data to their storage banks. “Deliver this to every major military and government around the world with a sound mind and a beating heart. I’ve been sleeping on the activities of this devil for too long now. His life certainly isn’t mine to claim, but that’s not going to stop me from getting a few hits in first.”          

Element looked across the recently slagged section of the city as he fiddled with a handful of smartphones. "The Achim guy ain't such a nice character. All his boasting about 'advancing humanity', then he pulls a stunt like some mad scientist you'd see on a Saturday cartoon." He stated to the titanic mutant King of Monster that was resting next to the building Element was standing upon. "Not very subtle either. There's a price that comes with being flashy, believe me I should know."

The weary Titan stood among the ruins of what once had been the human city of San Fransisco. Fire billowed all around him, shrouding him in a haze of orange light and choking smoke. He did not so much as acknowledge the odd being that stood upon one of the few intact buildings - Godzilla simply stood there, in an eerie silence that weighed heavily like the grief and guilt that was tying down his very soul.

He had no choice.

He had no choice.

He had no choice.

A few minutes of silence would pass, before the King of Monsters finally spoke, solemn, hushed and quiet.

"...He must be stopped." His voice, even via telepathy, came out in a exhausted whisper instead of his usual, proper, regal tone. He couldn't have foreseen for such a series of events such as this - could he have even prepared, if he had known? A man so arrogant, so insane, that he would defy the very laws of Nature itself and seek to combine the essence of Man and Titan? It was disgusting, sickening. The very thought of it made his stomach twist into a knot of pain and nausea.

Another moment of silence. The weary, solemn look upon his face twitched, before slowly curling into a look that could only be described as pure, boiling rage. Rage at the man, the despicable creature that had brought forth these events. Rage at the suffering that was being laid out. Rage at the countless hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives he had to incinerate in a sea of azure star-fire.

The Titan reared his head towards the ash-choked sky and let lose a bellowing roar - one of immense anguish, unspeakable grief, burning fury, and unfathomable hatred. Immediately he turned back towards the bay, rushing into the water and heading out for sea - his dorsal fins quickly slipping beneath the waves.

Mercy was no longer an option at this point. Death was the only answer, now - whether it be his or Achim's.

@monster-or-man

[thickasthievesrpg-hidden]

GRAND PRIX DE MONACO 

LOCATION: MONTE CARLO, MONACO DATE: MAY 26TH TO MAY 29TH, 2016

At night it glitters like a diamond catching the light, second only, perhaps, to the Casino de Royale-les-Eaux — though the Casino Royale is merely an illusion confined to the pages of Fleming’s novels and the Casino de Monte-Carlo is living, breathing, and solid under the feet of thieves, an endless labyrinth of wealth and power. Somewhere in the centre of the labyrinth, there is a room kept alive by whispers, a reality reserved for the legends told by thieves to their prodigies, a room that appears on no blueprints and all will say does not exist. And in that room, games that end in nothing less than irretrievable loss are played -- the players aren’t quite villains weeping blood over their hands, but they are the world’s most wealthy. Cards with gilded paper edges are lifted by hands bedecked in gold. 

Power is not the room’s currency (it is worth nothing without the riches to back it up) but it is traded across the table with conglomerates and jewels far better than any king has to offer. It’s whispered, among naughty newly-initiated thieves, that Francis Villiers was once invited to play a game there. Even just the idea of the room has an indescribable pull for thieves, young and old, a legend of ultimate desire since the days of the Casino’s advent. To pluck the chips and promises from the table as games of roulette are played would be the greatest heist of all. 

But that is not what they have come here for.

Seeds of rebellion are sowed among the crews. What point is there in coming to Monte-Carlo if not for the greatest prize of all?  But they also know that they are currently being hunted, and this is a quest of distraction; to throw Interpol and their American counterparts off the Society’s trail. They must pull off something big; and this will be nothing if not sensational. And then seeds of a different kind take root. An old aristocratic family, once held hostage, is finally returning to the light in Monte-Carlo, on the eve of the Grand Prix. 

The houses empty out to the streets, to the balconies and docks and restaurants and the roofs of hotels, rooms bare and unprotected as the Monégasque watch automobile-racing champions be crowned after a dizzying race and days of preparation and celebration. The Grand Prix de Monaco is the only Prix in the world still held in the streets of a city, the avenues along the water and leading past the villas forming the curves of the track. It is a weekend for the wealthy, wearing their rings and necklaces and designer labels even at the harbour. Temptation. 

But little thefts like those, the crews decide, will pale against the miserable and vast fortune of the House of Luque Cabal. Aristocrats descended from courtesans who whispered in the ears of kings and dynasties, made rich by the New World and the remnants of a salt empire of Ghana and jewels of Persia, their children grew up with pockets lined in platinum and spending limits to match the modern era they stumbled into. And like so many of the wealthy targets the crews turn their hungry eyes upon, this family’s hubris was their downfall. One by one, the matriarch, her children, and then their children -- fell into the hands of a con artist who robbed them blind and stole their souls in the process. The Luque Cabals, desperate to recover their dignity and find the devil who ruined them, are converging on Monaco for the Prix. And that devil, when they arrive, will undoubtedly carry their prizes with them. The Society’s inside man carries news of a great fortune coming to Monte Carlo on the day of the Grand Prix, meant to change hands between one criminal and the next. 

The Masterminds’ crews are here to steal it all back.

THE GRAND PRIX DE MONACO IS HELD ON 29 APRIL 2016. TAKE YOUR PLACES ON THE ROOFTOPS AND BALCONIES FOR THE VIEW OF A LIFETIME.

IC INFO

This is part of Project Diversion, a series of upcoming heists that are meant to throw both American and European law enforcement agencies off the Society’s backs. 

Thieves are staying at the Casino de Monte-Carlo, each masquerading as a different wealthy guest, spoiled scion, event staff, or any other disguise that affords them front-row seating to the Grand Prix and whatever may happen during the day of the race. 

An inside man has reported that the con artist who obliterated the House of Luque Cabal’s fortune will be in Monte Carlo on the 29th of April. They plan to meet a buyer during the Grand Prix, and the jewels and priceless artifacts will be changing hands. 

The crews arrive three days prior to the Grand Prix, on 26 April, this will afford them time to do surveillance of the Casino, the site of the Grand Prix, and make a preliminary sweep of the guest list. They are under strict orders not to fraternize nor play during this time, though for some it is inevitably part of their faux-identity. These thieves are ordered to gather intel on the Casino floors. 

The Grand Prix is described as so: “The Monaco Grand Prix  (French: Grand Prix de Monaco) is a Formula One motor race held each year on the Circuit de Monaco. Run since 1929, it is widely considered to be one of the most important and prestigious automobile races in the world and, with the Indianapolis 500 and the 24 Hours of Le Mans, forms the Triple Crown of Motorsport. The circuit has been called "an exceptional location of glamour and prestige". The race is held on a narrow course laid out in the streets of Monaco, with many elevation changes and tight corners as well as a tunnel, making it one of the most demanding tracks in Formula One. It is a dangerous place to race. During the Grand Prix weekend spectators crowd around the Monaco Circuit. There are a number of temporary grandstands built around the circuit, mostly around the harbour area. The rich and famous arrive on their boats and the yachts in the harbour fill with spectators. Balconies around Monaco become viewing areas for the race too. Many hotels and residents cash in on the birds eye views of the race. (Source)

OOC INFO

Roleplaying for the Grand Prix will begin immediately. 

26-28 April, the three days preceding the event in which intel and planning will be finalized, will be roleplayed from 1/29 to 2/02. 

29 April, the day of the Grand Prix, will be roleplayed from 2/03 to 2/08. 

Throughout this time, various updates with additional information on The Target will be released. 

Locations include the Casino de Monte-Carlo, the streets of Monaco, and the Beauregard’s private yacht ‘Velours Bleu’, which floats in the Monte Carlo harbour in preparation for the race.