#source: what did he mean by this

[papermariosuggestion]

What did she mean by this?

X

[formulanni]

🐎‼️

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009

[ohyoufool]

eric bittle x 'the archer'

[daemon-is-perfectly-unhinged]

Otto: Daemon won't be able to trace this back to us-

Allard: Are you kidding? He traces everything back to us! He traces things we haven't even done back to us!

[secondbeatsongs]

is Teller (of Penn & Teller fame) actually gay, or did I just fully hallucinate that knowledge

[puppyeared]

(Shouting from a megaphone) please take whatever I say in good faith and imagine an “as far as I know” cited for everything I talk about

[leslieseveride]

tim "i'm not trying to be romantic" → gets his girlfriend a 1st place trophy before she even takes the detectives exam because he believes in her so much, and then writing in a little '7' next to it after she notified him that she didn't do as well as she had hoped SEEMS PRETTY FUCKING ROMANTIC TO ME.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

There are a couple of lines in Psychonauts 2 that I think about quite a bit. I’m pretty sure these have already been done but if NOT, then. Uh. Spoilers for Psychonauts 2 I guess?

First off- one of Sam’s lines. There’s actually a lot about Sam that I think could have been put to better use—specifically a conversation about how psychic powers aren’t always controllable, giving parallels between Compton, Dogan, and Maligula and MAYBE Raz. But the line I SPECIFICALLY think about is a joke one.

“And if you use enough syrup, you can’t taste the difference between chicken and snake. Eggs is eggs!”

In Psychonauts, eggs are used as a metaphor for brains. Like, this isn’t some vague thing, it’s extremely front and center. Eggs and brains are directly linked. And, it should be noted, that Sam actually puts an entire nest—INCLUDING BIRD EGGS—in the, uh…. ‘Pancake mix’.

So, snakes and chickens and syrup, right? Chickens, generally used to describe someone who is cowardly or otherwise not the type to actually do anything, syrup being sweet enough to distract from other tastes, and snakes being, well, people who are not trustworthy.

And then there’s Nick Johnsmith, aka Gristol Malik, who is a well liked non psychic that Truman calls a lick spittle—someone who fawns over others easily. In other words, a snake (egg, brain) that acts sweet (and syrupy) enough to seem like a chicken (egg, brain).

Do you see. Do you SEE THE VISION HERE.

Anyways onto phrase 2. Said by Gristol Malik.

“He took a poor, sad, country girl and turned her into a mighty warrior. And I’m going to do it again.”

Now, usual context will say he means he’ll bring Maligula out of Lucy/Nona. I don’t think that’s incorrect, per se.

But one of the things that really, REALLY snapped Lucy/Maligula was the death of Marona, her sister.

And who do we have camping nearby? Why, it’s an entire family. In fact, it’s Raz’s entire family. And at LEAST half of them are psychics.

Gristol already views Raz as a puppet. He only kind of likes him because he’s half Grulovian. And, you know, during the Rhombus of Ruin, Loboto was no longer under Oleander’s employee, so… who wanted Raz’s brain removed? Someone who, oh I don’t know, might have heard about Raz being a powerful psychic that MIGHT have noticed Raz’s rather unique name… or, more specifically, the last name of a circus that performed for the Gzar and his family, famous for water acts. One that, by chance, someone could have known that a Galochio, a family of psychics, recently married into?

And you know, Maligula is older, it’s good to have back-ups, right? I mean, this is the same guy that ACTUALLY pulled one over on an entire spy group of mind readers.

But, hey, maybe it wasn’t a plan to turn Raz into Maligula by killing one or some or all of his family! Raz is kind of pissed right now, and might not snap the way Gristol would want him to. I’m pretty sure murdering, say, Mirtala, his baby sister, might not work in Gristol’s favor when Raz is already against him.

That said… he’s not the only psychic in the Aquato family. And in fact some of those family members aren’t the most on board with the whole… Psychics and Psychonauts business.

Specifically, we have a barely used plot thread including Frazie Aquato and her acceptance of her psychic powers!

I’m sure that, oh say, her little brother dying in the middle of him helping the Psychonauts pick up their messes, when he should have been able to be saved by one of his heroes since he was literally at their headquarters and surrounded by psychic adults, will only have good things happen to the Psychonauts. I’m SO sure that Frazie won’t get extremely pissed at these people her brother looked up to so much. She’ll definitely be understanding and absolutely won’t use what seems to be a family trait of extremely powerful psychic power along with the hydrokinesis in her bloodline. Specifically because she, an acrobat since birth and taught to ignore a lot of the usual fears most people have about safety and the instinct to flee, definitely has a great relationship with her fight or flight mode.

:))))

Anyways I have a lot of thoughts about Psychonauts 2 (I’m not saying I’d do a fix it of some things that bother me, but I do tend to do canon rewrites to smooth out wrinkles as a fun writing exercise/my version of hyperfixation on media and with the time gap between the games there is PLENTY of those in the plot, so uhhhhhhhh) but no one to bother them to, so uhhhhh yeah thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

the way some people straight up have no respect for asou's writing is actually kind of insane to me 😭 like youre a fan of HIS manga, but you outwardly express your disregard for the intentions he had when writing....... disregarding canon can be super duper funsies and cool sometimes, but to straight up say "i dont care what he intended and think my headcanons are more canon than what he wrote because i think he wrote it badly/he sucks at writing this dynamic/i dont like the ship (or whatever) he was trying to imply" is literally just insanely disrespectful IN MY OPINION 😖

i think maybe im just annoyed at how badly people misuse the words "canon", "coded", and "implied" (which im also guilty of occasionally- especially when i first came here) cuz like... "i choose not to acknowledge this thing that is canon or technically canon or implied" is fine (usually). "i know what the author intended but i dont like it or care, so im going to call my headcanon/ship canon and anyone who disagrees is disregarding canon and is stupid because i said so" is NOT fine... ☠️☠️☠️

[cienie-isengardu]

MK1 fanfiction

EDIT: now all chapters will be collected under the title of Cracked mirror of black, cold soul

No one asked for it, but as I did not get enough Bi-Han & Shang Tsung interaction, I was forced to write about them myself. The first part is at least done, we will see if I managed to finish the second. Mainly written as a character study of MK1!Shang Tsung, a bit about his relationship with Damashi, General Shao and potential partnership with Sub-Zero post story-mode.

There was a time when Shang Tsung was nothing more than just a pitiful loser clinging to an even more pathetic life. All he could do to survive was to pretend to be someone else, someone better, wiser; someone worthy of trust, someone people like and listen to. Lying to people was easy. Lying to himself anyone would care if he died came much harder and harder with each passing day. 

Then came Damashi and offered him not only power but also kindness, a praise for making progress, be it for fulfilling her plans or for his own growing skills. He would gladly burn the world just to earn her smile, a good word, anything really. She made him for the first time in a long long time feel valued, appreciated, even liked despite who he was under all the polite words and charming smiles.

But that was a lie too. A lie he foolishly fell for, like a stray, hungry dog falls for a kind pat on the head and a little treat before the new owner will kick it for fun.

Shang Tsung was many things but definitely not a dog to be kicked, be it by Liu Kang or his Titan self. If none of the gods cared for him, he wouldn't care for them either. And now, after he ran away from prison and a terrifying storm washed him ashore on a deserted island full of magic secrets to unlock, he had time and means to repay each of his pursuers, to make all the realms if not respect his skills then fear them.

Since Damashi’s - his own Titan self’s - betrayal many days and nights have passed and with each Shang Tsung’s mastery of magic grew stronger, his knowledge deepened, his confidence restored and strengthened. He claimed the island as his new home, the impregnable fortress secured by the most wicked, devilish and brilliant traps he could think about and for the first time in ages, he finally felt like belonging to the right place.

It was as good a life as it could be. Not perfect, as Shang Tsung still needed to figure out how to secure his food supplies before he would tame the wild land, unused for years and maybe the animals lurking in the shadows could be useful too. A domestic cattle would be a great addition for sure, as it was the only type of animal he had any skill to maintain but then again, there was no way he would engage in tedious farming. He had no time nor patience for that kind of work yet he did not want any stranger on his island either. All he could do for now was to eat the catched fishes and some plucked from tree fruits while bringing all the needed ingredients and supplies from a quick trip to the land. Using magic portals was a tricky solution - magic brought unwanted attention and once used, always left some traits to follow but after the last storm he did not feel safe on a boat sailing through the open sea. On the land, he did run into some of his former allies, exchanged important news and some secrets here and there, never truly betraying where he was hiding. The General and his men treated Shang Tsung with suspicion, always demanding more than he offered. On the other hand, he and Quan Chi worked well in the past, but after the last betrayal, Shang Tsung couldn’t trust anyone anymore. Everyone blamed him for his Titan self’s lies, like he was the one lying to them all. The Royal Family wanted his head, the Earthrealm Champions hunted him too. It was a mess, amusing and irritating at the same time. 

He was going to deal with that matter too, when the right time came. For now, Shang Tsung enjoyed the new found magic - the power awaiting for those who will dare to reach out for it. A power he didn’t need to share with anyone.  

Everything would feel much better though if Sub-Zero didn’t somehow find a way to break into his new home like all the deviously set up traps meant nothing.

Shang Tsung should know something was off the moment he felt coldness creeping into his bones, but in all fairness, it was always cold here. He did not have yet an idea how to heat the interior of an abandoned fortress and as much as he liked to not freeze in his own sleep, luxury like that was not on his priority list. He should be more cautious, more focused on the change in the air about him than walking straight into his own room and then be dumstocked at the sight of Sub-Zero looking through his books as if he had lived here forever and Shang Tsung was the unwanted guest.

“Your security is shitty” was all he got as a greeting. Cold, sharp, uncaring words judging him as an incompetent idiot. The bastard did not even bother to look at him, just kept rummaging through the books like it was the only thing worth this attention.

Shang Tsung wasn’t sure what offended him more - being ignored or watching as his precious belongings were touched without his permission. He liked books way more than he liked people. 

In the last few years he killed people for less than that yet he smiled his most charming smile, the gears in his head working fast and furious on how to turn the unpleasant situation for his own advantage. The fact that Sub-Zero allowed him to see himself in the open instead of lurking in the shadows to cut his throat gave Shang Tsung a reason for a bit of optimism. As far as he heard from his former, maybe-still-maybe-not allies, Lin Kuei rejected Liu Kang’s authority and were on their own. It of course did not mean that Sub-Zero was his friend or ally nor that he wouldn't murder Shang Tsung at the end of day, either to reconcile with Fire Lord or to bribe the god to let the Lin Kuei be in peace.

Shang Tsung couldn’t blame Bi-Han for that - in this cruel world, everyone was looking after their own best interest, but the vision of losing his life did not sit well with him at all. He wasn’t afraid of fighting and he did beat down great Champions in the last battle, but out of all opponents, it was Sub-Zero's ice axe that was the closest to beheading him for good.

He did not plan to forget that anytime soon.

“What an unexpected surprise,” he said, all the soft, so sweet smile, velvet voice and sharp eyes analyzing the danger standing before him. “What can I do for you, my friend? Or did you just miss my humble company?”

He teased with feigned innocence because men hated when he said ridiculous stuff like that. Shang Tsung hated it himself, because he knew no one would miss him at all.  

“For one, drop the false politeness” came Sub-Zero’s cold reply, a mix of disapproval and command that Shang Tsung was so used to, because this was how people treated him, the real him, all his life. “We are not friends.”

There was a flare of anger in Shang Tsung now, the desire to prove himself the superior, not a pitiful dog anyone could kick and command - but he knew better than to allow this fire to burn inside him. Emotions were a weakness he couldn’t afford. Did the man even know how much he provoked the sorcerer with his cold disdain? Shang Tsung had no idea. He heard a lot of stories about Lin Kuei; even in the backwater hole from which he crawled out everyone heard the terrifying tales of Fire Lord’s secret army. Of the ice demons stealthier than shadows and more deadly than night itself and for a long time Shang Tsung did not think of them as living beings from this world.

Still… Sub-Zero was mortal, wasn’t he? A special one no doubt, with control over ice yet he could bleed too. Shang Tsung wondered for a moment what he could find under the fine, cold skin if he ever had a chance to look for the answer. An ice demon, human or hybrid of both?

“But we are still allies, aren’t we?” he asked, still polite and careful, yet walking up to the other man with his typical swagger. Not close enough to be in arm reach, but close enough to show he wasn’t that easily intimidated. 

The great military hero of Edenia always looked down on his movements; how he fought, how he gesticulated, how he walked. No self-respecting soldier would walk like some pleased prostitute after a well-paid job, the General said not once nor twice and all Shang Tsung could do then was to smile the brightest smile and thank him, like his disdain was the best praise he heard that day. The only thing they really have in common, beside the desire to take down Sindel’s regime, was being self-made men for both worked hard to be who they were. Yet General came from an old, aristocratic family with even older military tradition and everything that did not fit his narrow-minded idea of the world was treated with hostility and contempt. 

Shang Tsung’s skinny body, swagger, shrewdness, curiosity and wordiness unsurprisingly annoyed the great warrior and to say he took no pleasure in that fact would be a blatant lie. Even if it was childish and unproductive pleasure, it amused him to know how little effort he needed to test the patience of such a stern and manly man. 

Sub-Zero reminded him a lot of Shao and he suspected it was the soldier thing; the body built for fight and hardship, no-nonse attitude and the way both men moved - with deadly precision and confidence only a person that in fact killed an enemy in battle could muster. Even the way they spoke sounded similar, a barked command that everyone around instinctively wanted to obey, either out of respect or fear.

For that similarity alone, Shang Tsung expected the Lin Kuei Grandmaster to snarl at him some nasty remark about how his Titan self betrayed them all and thus how little he himself was worth of anyone’s trust. Anything to put the sorcerer down even a bit, to remind him what a failure he was.

“That is yet to be seen” was all the Grandmaster said, finally glancing from the book to Shang Tsung. 

It was hard to read anything from the man’s face, as half of it was hidden behind that damned Lin Kuei mask. All he could do was to rely on the move of a brew and the incantation of voice, each syllable, a moment of pause. It was a hard task, as the man showed no emotions and spoke so little so far. But the sorcerer knew there was anger, always lurking in each word spoken by Sub-Zero, but also… an excitement at finally being free of Liu Kang’s control. As Damashi foretold.

Shang Tsung couldn’t help but to think there was something much deeper about Damashi's interest in breaking Lin Kuei from Fire Lord than he ever suspected before. Back then the choice sounded logical - every action that would deprive Liu Kang of the advantage was worth taking so he did not question his benefactor. How could he, really? Now though? The truth burned him to the core and he learned the hard way that each of Damashi’s words had a hidden meaning, each action served a different goal than was promised; the victory he was in fact never part of. Yet… even the deepest shade of lie had a grain of truth. He knew that one well, for he lied all his life.

His Titan self for some reason wanted not so much the Lin Kuei itself as the Sub-Zero specifically on his side. Maybe more than Titan Shang Tsung even wanted his own younger self, corrupted by Liu Kang. 

The mere thought made him want to curse all gods alike. There was no difference for him between Liu Kang and his Titan-self, as both played him like some pawn, not even an important figure. Just pawn, to hold away from power, to sacrifice it when times would come. 

But there was more to it than just jealous anger and the never ending feeling of never being good enough. If Sub-Zero meant so much, if not in the grand scheme of things itself then just for personal satisfaction of Titan, then maybe he could be important to Shang Tsung’s own plans. Allies were hard to come by and these days he could use some, well, not protection really, he was done with living under someone else's wing but he wouldn’t say no to some partnership or at least casual support. The little favor here and there where things were still thick and troublesome to deal on your own. After all, freedom always came at some cost. 

Maybe Sub-Zero came to the same conclusion and his unexpected visit was just a reconnaissance. They were more alike than one would think, as similar desires drove them into this madness of Titans. To prove their own might and skills to all those that looked down on them their whole life. But above everything else, to be free and powerful enough to keep that freedom.

To his own surprise, Shang Tsung took comfort in that thought.

If they were meant to stay allies - or as close two stubborn outcasts with grudge against gods could rely on each other, some sacrifices were to be made. Shang Tsung did something he rarely did - he dropped the false politeness under which he hid himself for years.

“How did you find me?” he asked Sub-Zero directly, raising his chin challengingly. He was not afraid of Lin Kuei, just curious.

“You are not as careful as you think you are” Bi-Han answered with no less challenging stare, yet the flick of an amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. Shang Tsung knew the man was smirking under that damned mask and that thought alone made him puff in anger. 

The brown eyes shone even more.

Sub-Zero moved from his place, slowly walking from one bookshelf to another. His fingers traced books, never stopping at any particular volume, but always touching the book spines, like there was something interesting in their textures. The man did not pay attention to Shang Tsung and not really to books either. He was studying the room itself. The sorcerer couldn’t place why it bothered him so much but he knew better than to allow Sub-Zero to learn even the most trivial things about himself or his fortress. 

Damashi warned him against that the first day when she spoke about Lin Kuei. They are thieves, the mysterious being said, all grace and patience and praise for the unwanted Shang Tsung who drank in her words like the wisdom of gods, who will steal your fortune, life and secrets. Always be on your guard around them, especially around the one named Sub-Zero. If only he was smarter back then, less in need to please his generous benefactor, maybe he could hear in her sweet voice the longing for something, someone, that was not anymore. For the old partnership that was broken and defiled by Liu Kang’s peaceful vision of the world. But he was a fool who thought her yearning was for him alone. 

Shang Tsung was done with being played like a fool.

“Who told you about my island?” he demanded, voice still quiet yet no less burning with an old anger. He would get his answers, whatever kindly or by force.

A long sigh escaped Sub-Zero’s lips and frankly it took him out by surprise. Shang Tsung - or rather his Titan self -  knew the man was running on frustration for years, but that sounded as a whole new level of annoyance.

“I heard about it from Havik, who heard that from Rain, who heard that from Reiko, who heard that from Shao, who heard about it from Quan Chi. But the whole Sun Do is full of similar gossip.”

For a moment none of them spoke. Shang Tsung stared at Sub-Zero’s impassive, half-hidden face that still somehow emanated his disgust at their maybe-allies-maybe-not-but-definitely-idiots who apparently couldn’t keep a secret to save their own life. The feeling was mutual, because this was the reason why the sorcerer hated working with others. No one apparently could keep their mouth shut down if you didn’t help make that permanently. 

He closed eyes and rubbed his forehead, like that could ward off all the bad thoughts assaulting his mind right now.  His fingers were cold, too cold for his liking, unpleasantly stiff and numb. He did not like how the mere presence of a cryomancer affected his body, how it made him shiver and weak. He was an Edenian for fuck’s sake, and Edenia did not even know what winter cold was. He did not know that himself, until Damashi led him to a snow-covered fortress and he almost freezed there the first night. 

It took him a moment to realize something bad was happening. He couldn’t focus, all his senses dulled, body so clumsy and weak. As if his energy suddenly dropped to zero and fatigue was taking over. A flash of panic crossed his mind, but he was too tired, too cold to even be afraid for his life.

He had no idea how long he remained in the grip of this piercing soul frost. A few seconds? Days? He couldn’t even say. What mattered was that once the control of his senses came back, he was still alive and Sub-Zero gone.

And the fact the bastard stole a few of his precious scrolls and books.

***

The books showed up on his desk a few days later. There was no thank you or sorry about that note, not even the fuck you, loser. Shang Tsung both admired the man's boldness and hated him for it. Still he appreciated the books were returned in a good condition, as there was not a single scratch on any of them, not even a new page crease. He had no idea if that was some sort of weird Lin Kuei’s way to test him, disrespect or Sub-Zero took the books simply because he wanted to read them but he was a bastard with no sense of social politeness to just ask as any normal human being would. Damashi mentioned cryomancers were naturally difficult like that.

Shang Tsung had better things to do than to wonder what the check was wrong with Sub-Zero yet he was too curious for his own sake. Sadly, the titles alone did not say anything useful on the matter and even though he read each book just in case, there was hardly anything worth the time it took to finish them. No grand secrets revealed, no magic or military knowledge, not even historical value. Just some technical nonsense that bore him to death and if Sub-Zero was into stuff like that then no wonder the man lacked any social grace. 

The Grandmaster of Lin Kuei so far did not try to kill him and returned the books so Shang Tsung decided to give him the benefit of doubt and so he did not cross out the man from the list of potential allies. It did not stop him however from improving the traps just in case the man decided to return solely to steal again.

***

The scrolls showed up on his desk three days later. Their appearance actually worried Shang Tsung, not just because the trap again turned out to be useless. He was not worried even by the possibility Sub-Zero found some secret entrance he did not know about yet. No, what worried him was the fact he spent the whole morning in his chamber and walked out for like twenty minutes at best and when he returned, the scrolls WERE. THERE. 

That actually unnerved him much more than he wanted to admit. 

The scrolls turned out to be written in a language Shang Tsung did not even know and the implication that Lin Kuei could read it only added to the feeling of cold unease. There was however a note left on the scrolls; a small paper with only Royal Army searching the coast written in Shang Tsung’s own language. 

He was not afraid of empress Mileena’s army but he did appreciate the warning. Of course, the warning could be a fraud, a means to build trust only to betray him. The common sense advised caution yet there was a weird sense of peace within Shang Tsung. A hope or hunch, he did not know, but deep in his heart he felt everything was alright.

All he could do for now was wait to see if Sub-Zero will lead the enemy to his fortress or not. So he waited.

(The fact that another book disappeared with Sub-Zero did not surprise him much. Irritated, yes, but not worried. For some reason he felt everything was like it should be, like some almost forgotten memory of past life came back to him and the sense of deja vu was weirdly comforting.)

[christiangeistdorfer]

JEAN-PIERRE JARIER, 1974

[mister-lucky-bunny]

I don’t wanna throw the baby out with the bath water, but damn Mouthwashing has already reached the “fandom infighting” stage of its life cycle huh

[meltedmercury]

Today has been a bad day full of harsh realities and I'm having a lot of big sad feelings.

[the-busy-ghost]

Me normally: Let people love what they love

Me, after a Test Match Special commentator expresses their belief that the new All Creatures Great and Small is somehow "better" than the 1978 version: This is pure insanity and TMS can no longer be trusted on anything, how can they even be trusted to know about cricket, do they have no TASTE

[randomnameless]

It's always interesting to see how UO gives to its local church a neutral role in the world - dare I say neutral good as in the faith is cited by some characters as their source of inspiration and strength to endure the various events the game puts them through...

And then, apparently, the decision of not having the option to kill Sanatio is controversial?

albion thoughts under the cut

Albion was undercooked because bankruptcy and all, and I already wrote a bit about the general wtf of that arc that can basically be summed up as "Scarlett's dad told his two right hand men that his daughter is away/in hiding and made them swore to never reveal anything about her to anyone, including themselves", so when Scarlett's dad kicks the bucket, they both know a heir exists somewhere, but they can't trust each other and have a fall out instead, which leads them to fight and, ultimately, to the "plot" and "antagonism" of this arc.

Sanatio's basically in charge of the Orthodoxy - Nigel is in charge of its knights? - and the Pope's second.

Pope told Sanatio Scarlett exists and went away for a "mission", but never told him where she was sent to - something only Nigel knows.

The Pope kicks the bucket - given how Galerius laments his death in Cornia, I doubt Arant was killed by his goons or something after unlocking 5 out of 6 sanctuaries, that's why he's super happy that they finally found Scarlett to unlock the last one - and then Sanation, as the de facto dude in charge of Albion is faced with a dilemna.

Not knowing where Scarlett is, he either reveals to his people and the faithful that the Pope is dead and is line is extinguished - which would send the faithful and the people of Albion in disarray because 1/the pope and his line are revered/sacred in Fevrith's religion 2/the orthodoxy falls apart, including the local churches etc etc, and we see and are told that the faith is the only thing some people rely on to withstand and survive the Zenoiran invasion -

Or Sanatio hides the Pope's death - asking Baltro to sort of preserve his body from decomposing too much - thus lies to the people of Albion and the Faithful, but at least they can still have faith/believe that somehow things are going to be better, and the Church is still, somehow, allowed to do its stuff (Zenoira apparently doesn't mind the church helpind people and doing Sharon things).

"But that means working with Zenoira, the ones who invaded his homeland and the baddies of the verse!"

Having replayed that part in Bastorias, we have a NPC who's basically telling us that while Albion apparently "accepted" to work with Zenoira, their autonomy is nothing but a façade since Zenoira stationned a good chunk of its army there : in a way, Albion is occupied by the Zenoirans.

Without any clue about Scarlett's survival or location, I suppose faced with "we destroy you and what makes your people withstand our occupation/nonsense" and "you will lie to your people and we won't turn you in minced meat, you'll be left with some degree of autonomy (lel) but we won't kill your people (not overtly at least)", it was basically having him be stucked between two hard choices, but only one meant immediate doom, so it's the one he avoided.

Of course it sucks - and a half baked plot being a half baked plot - means that when the Liberation Army manages to boot Zenoira away from Albion, Sanation's choice to accept the Zenoiran rule, if it means temporary respite for his people is seen as fishy/inacceptable, but iirc his Raenys rapport is pretty upfront : some people resent him for siding with Zenoira, and yet, he picked what was, at that time, the "lesser evil" between the two.

Albion is interesting because it's one of the few recurring motives in this arc, and it contrasts well with what we saw in Cornia in the beginning.

Clive's rapports with Joseph are all about him coming to terms with what his father did - and how it wasn't useless - even if it mean his and his family's death : he fought and resisted against Zenoira. Clive himself seems to have little love for the lords who "turned against the crown" and sided with Zenoira after the invasion.

We could have had a confrontation with Monica (and Melisandre!)'s pov, because Monica's grandpa apparently supported Zenoira under the promise/assurance that Galerius and his army were going to let their people alive/alone if they sided with him (as much as Zenoira follows on those kind of promises lol). But then, it's revealed that Monica's grandpa was actually supporting, in the shadows, the Liberation Army.

In the last arc of the game, this is echoed again through Jerome - the knight who bakes sweets. Sure, there's not a lot to say about him since we recruit him so late in the story, and he has nearly no rapport convos to flesh him out : and yet we see in his mission that he is a local lord who is very much appreciated by his people, but immediately surrendered when Zenoira invaded Albion, instead of fighting them (like Fodoquir!) because if he surrendered, it'd mean his people would be spared.

And they were untouched (apparently?) by the Zenoirans.

However, Jerome still thinks he deserves to die (Alain can execute him if the player wants to be an ass I guess) because, even if it was for his people's sake, the thing is he still worked/accepted the Zenoiran rule.

Interestingly, in an era where some people cry everywhere they want "morally grey" settings, it's the second time that when some characters are faced with impossible dilemnas, some part of the fandom revile them for picking a "wrong choice".

in both cases, those people are in charge of that setting's major religion, maybe it's just a coincidence?

Clive wonders if his father made the right choice to priorize "the cause" over "his people", when Jerome immediately abandoned "the cause" for "his people".

and then you have Fodoquir who abandons both when his people sacrifice his son

I guess I'd really have appreciated a rapport conversation between Jerome and the Cornian knights, but VW ran out of time/money.

[memento-morri-writes]

I've been thinking a lot about how Rook's reunion with his former mentor, Zara, is going to go, and since I can't predict what the DM is going to have her do or say, I can only dwell on what I know is going to happen. Which happens to include taking off the illusion ring that's been hiding his injuries from her. So have a snippet of the description I have planned for that moment:

tw for description of (mostly healed) injuries

He hesitates, twisting a ring on his finger. Looking at it more closely, she can tell it’s very finely crafted, and must have been very expensive. A large emerald is set into the band. Rook sighs, and pulls the ring off his finger in one quick motion.  Immediately she’s struck by the difference in his appearance as the illusion melts away. He looks awful. His warm, healthy skin fades to a dull and sickly grey. There’s huge bags under his deeply sunken eyes, and his cheeks are hollowed, as though they have been carved out by an overeager sculptor. He looks like he’s recently risen from the grave.  While he was thin before, now she can see his ribs under the skin, and his collarbones are exaggeratedly pronounce. Thin white lines left by dozens upon dozens of recently healed cuts are scattered across his body. On top of that, faded bruises cover most of his visible skin, a mottled mosaic of purple and yellow. They’re clearly days, maybe weeks old, and she can only begin to imagine what they must have looked like when fresh. Bandages are barely visible under his shirt, wrapping around his back, hinting at even more injuries.