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haltraveler · 3 years ago

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Some Headcanons About The Kaleesh

AKA since neither Lucasfilm nor Disney give a shit about this fascinating corner of the Star Wars universe I guess I’ll do it myself. (These aren’t specific to Legends OR Canon since almost nothing about Kalee has been changed between the two continuities)

Physiology

Due to their combination of reptilian, avian, and mammalian features I think non--mammalian synapsids (sometimes called “mammal-like reptiles” despite not being true reptiles) are the best model for Kaleesh biology.

Kaleesh are warm-blooded and lay soft-shelled, leathery eggs similar to that of a platypus or echidna.

Kaleesh have sclerotic rings within their eyes like most nonmammalian vertebrates.

I generally prefer the digitigrade, avian legs shown in The Clone Wars and Galaxy at War as opposed to the plantigrade, human-like legs shown in Visionaries, New Essential Guide to Alien Species, and Resistance. These legs, along with their blunt, hoof-like claws would make them extremely adept at running at high speeds.

Due to inconsistency in their portrayal I’ve decided that the number of tusks that a kaleesh has varies depending on ethnicity, with all kaleesh having the two large tusks in the upper jaw but with the two smaller tusks in the lower jaw being absent in some ethnic groups.

Due to their keen smell and sensory pits, they are naturally nocturnal, but agrarian Kaleesh societies have shifted to become more diurnal in their habits.

Society

As with humans, polygyny is not accepted in all Kaleesh cultures, and some have monogamy or more freeform polygamy as their primary structure for romantic relationships.

Similarly, the use of terms like Khan and Khagan is normally restricted to Qymaen jai Sheelal’s steppe-dwelling native culture, but it became more widespread once jai Sheelal became General Grievous and united the planet under his Khaganate.

Abesmi and Shrupak were originally the centers of two entirely separate religions from opposite hemispheres of Kalee, but the two faiths ended up being syncretized during the formation of a pan-Kaleesh identity under Sith occupation back in the 3000s BBY. By the time of Grievous the two religions had fully merged into a single faith.

Kaleesh naming structure is complex. The first name (i.e. Qymaen jai Sheelal, Ronderu lij Kummar, or Bentilais san Sk’ar) is a given name equivalent to those seen in most galactic cultures. The middle syllable (i.e. Qymaen jai Sheelal, Ronderu lij Kummar, or Bentilais san Sk’ar) is the last syllable of the Kaleesh’s tribe/nation (so a member of the Muja bandit tribe might be named Aitze ja Zahol). The second full name is a patronym/matronym (depending on which parent holds higher status) but is often replaced by an honorific once the Kaleesh has committed deeds worthy of awarding them respected status and therefore establishing themselves as independent from their parent’s legacy (i.e Qymaen jai Sheelal, a name referring to Grievous’s prophetic dreams).

The Kaleesh have their own force-using religious tradition, similar to the Nightsisters or Bardottans.

Kaleesh technology levels prior to Grievous’s khaganate varied significantly, with Bentilais san Ska’ar’s people being semi-industrialized with advanced firearms while Ronderu lij Kuumar’s Grendajuan tribe was using steel blades and arrowheads, and Qymaen jai Sheelal’s people still used bone and stone as their primary materials. All kaleesh might buy or salvage offworld technology, like Qymaen jai Sheelal’s Czerka-manufactured outland rifle, but lacked the industrial capabilities to replicate such technology.

History

The Trade Federation were heavily-involved in the Huk occupation of Kalee, selling offworld food supplies at inflated prices to the kaleesh, often in the aftermath of punitive action by the Huk that destroyed the kaleesh’s ability to manufacture their own food. It was this enforced reliance on imported foodstuffs that lead to the deadly famine that killed millions of Kaleesh in the wake of the Jedi-enforced trading embargo.

Prior to Qymaen and Ronderu the most prominent revolutionary leader of the eastern hemisphere of Kalee was a Khan who died along with nearly his entire fighting force of thousands in an attack against a Huk fort on the shores of the Jenuuwa Sea. One of the casualties in the battle was Qymaen jai Sheelal’s father. It was during a successful second attempt to take the fort decades later that Ronderu was killed by Huk forces and her body swept into the sea.

Sidon Ithano’s Kaleesh helmet came from an officer in a Kaleesh stormtrooper regiment created by Bentilais san Sk’ar during his time as the general of an Imperial strike force, thus accounting for the mask being made of plastoid instead of bone.

#kaleesh #kalee #general grievous #star wars #qymaen jai sheelal #ronderu lij kummar #bentilais san sk'ar #sidon ithano #star wars headcanons

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starlightments · 4 years ago

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PREVIEW: part one

The Galra, a hostile nation of magic-wielders, have finally been banished from the kingdom’s borders. The war is over, once and for all. The Crown City is more determined than ever to re-establish peace to its people when a mysterious boy is discovered in the outlands. Keith is taken under the wing of the Royal Guard, where he is to be groomed for knighthood, but his inherent and untamed magical abilities have branded him a threat, alienating him from the only family he’s ever known — until he meets Lance, a rambunctious young prince in search of a playmate. But as the boys grow older and feelings grow stronger, their days of childhood whimsy evolve into a deeply unshakeable bond; one that is soon tested by rumors of a Galra counterattack and perhaps even a state-mandated betrothal to assuage political tension. Now, with both hearts and lives on the line, the two lovers find themselves at a complicated crossroads: duty or desire?

Language: English | Rating: TBD | Art Credit: here

FANDOM: Voltron: Legendary Defender

GENRE: Royal AU, childhood friends-to-lovers

PAIRING(S): Keith/Lance

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A flash of light comes blazing through the half-parted curtains, followed by a violent clap of thunder that rattles the floorboards and, consequently, startles the young prince awake.

Lance sits up with a gasp, clutching at the elaborately embroidered duvet, keeping it tucked under his chin for protection. The bedroom goes pitch black again, save for the bluish glow of a star-shaped nightlight in the corner, but the storm continues to rage outside. He can hear rain beating behind his window and the blustery sway of tree branches as they scrape up against the glass like fingernails.

“Marco,” Lance whispers into the darkness. His brother remains fast asleep, snoring softly, on the other side of the room. “Marco.”

Still no response. Lance spends a moment rooting around under the covers for his raggedy stuffed lion, then squeezes it close to his chest as he scuttles over to his brother’s bed and shakes him urgently by the shoulder.

“Go away,” Marco grumbles into his pillow.

“But the noises!” insists Lance. “What if it’s a—”

“It’s not a monster, it’s just a storm. Quit being such a baby.”

Lance puffs up at that, bottom lip jutting out with defiance. He’s fully prepared to remind his brother that he turned seven last month — and is, therefore, no longer a baby by any means, thank you very much — when another loud noise cries out in the dead of night; except this time it’s unlike the rumbling thunder and howling winds. It’s a mighty whoosh of the front doors being flung open downstairs. Wet footsteps slapping against the marbled foyer. Low, angry-sounding voices.

“Marco,” says Lance, shaking him again. “I mean it, I think there’s something—”

“Cut it out, Lance,” Marco says, and then swats at the younger boy’s hand with an agitated grunt before rolling away to face the wall.

But the noises persist. If anything, they’re only getting louder, more conspicuous, and Lance’s curiosity is not so easily brushed aside. So, bracing himself, with his trusty lion in tow, he pads across the room and pokes his tiny head through the door.

Across from him, Lance’s older sister is doing the exact same thing, peering furtively down the dimly-lit corridor in a satin nightgown, her hair done up in curlers.

“Ronnie—”

“Shh!” she hisses at him, a finger pressed to her lips in warning. “It’s Papa.”

Lance’s mouth parts into a bewildered little ‘o’ shape as Veronica proceeds to slink out of her room and toward the staircase. At the opposite end of the hall, he spots Coran, the royal family advisor, where he appears to have dozed off in the middle of watch duty again, slumped over in a chair, his big orange mustache wiggling with every exhale, and so Lance decides to tiptoe after his sister.

The Citadel’s east wing is a winding labyrinth of passageways and gilded alcoves, but the further they creep into its bowels, the clearer the commotion becomes. One of the many chamber doors has been left slightly ajar, a strip of lamplight pouring out from the gap, along with their father’s voice, hushed and stern.

“—What on earth were you thinking, Takashi?”

They both scamper up to the door, peeking inside. It’s a thin opening, just barely enough space to make out glimpses of shifting bodies: their father paces around a large wooden conference table, his brow drawn tight, while Shiro, in contrast, stands perfectly still like the soldier he was born to be. There’s a small boy hovering at his side in tattered clothes, similar to Lance in size, and his face is obscured by a curtain of damp fringe.

“I found him in the outlands, alone, with nowhere to go and no way to survive,” Shiro answers firmly. “That’s what I was thinking, your Majesty.”

“You should know better,” the king fires back. “After everything that’s happened, you, of all people, should know better than to invite danger into this household.”

“He’s not dangerous,” says Shiro. “He’s a child.”

“No, he’s Galra.”

At that, Veronica inhales a sharp breath, then immediately clamps a hand over her mouth. Lance is startled, too, but only because he knows he should be. Only because he’s heard grown-ups murmur that word when they think no one is listening, like it’s something terrible and blasphemous. This boy right here looks like neither of those things.

Through the crack, Lance can see Shiro lift his arm; the mechanical one. “And so am I, now,” he states. “The very magic that this kingdom fears, the very magic that’s now a part of me, is what saved my life.”

A pause. “That’s different,” the king growls. “It was our only option.”

“Well, pardon me, your Majesty, but then what is his only option?” argues Shiro, pointing at the boy. “Death?”

“Death,” Lance echoes, scandalized, his grip on his stuffed lion tightening. He reaches for his sister’s ruffled sleeve and tugs. “Ronnie, did you hear that, he just said—”

“Lance,” she shushes, “be quiet or they’ll hear—”

The sudden halting of footsteps lets them know they’ve been caught. But before either of them can think to run, the chamber doors are being swung open wide and their father’s long shadow is looming from above. His expression, however, has been transformed into one that Lance recognizes; gentle and warm.

“Aha,” he chuckles. “I thought I heard some little mice scurrying around these halls.” Swiftly, the king scoops Lance up into his arm and takes Veronica’s hand with the other. “Back to bed, you two. What would your mother have to say if she knew you were up this late, hm?”

Shiro, in the background, says, “Your Majesty, I—”

“We will finish this discussion in the morning, Captain Shirogane,” the king replies tersely. He doesn’t even turn halfway to meet the other man’s eyes. “Right now, I have a family to take care of.”

“Yes,” mutters Shiro, nodding. “Understood.”

As Lance clings to his father, peering curiously over the top of his shoulder, he discovers that the strange Galra boy is staring at him with the darkest, saddest eyes that Lance has ever seen in his life. It makes Lance’s skin tickle, being looked at like that.

So, he waves.

The boy freezes in place for a moment, but eventually waves back, looking a bit ashamed, as if he’s not sure whether he should be doing it. When he does, though, Lance notices that the skin of the boy’s palm is covered in black calluses, almost charred straight through to the bone.

It’s the last thing Lance sees — and the only thing he’ll think about, later, tucked away in bed — before his father rounds the corner and carries him out of sight.

#klance #klance fic #star writes #fic: heartbound #i've been chipping away at this one for months so i thought i'd share the first scene :)

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thelordofdarkreunion · 4 years ago

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Magnificent Scoundrels- The Shadowed Lords

I know I keep throwing new characters and places at you. Sorry. Scoundrel shenanigans will return next story. However, this is important for the story progression, and, to be blunt, these are some of my personal favorite characters I wrote in here. Enjoy the story, and if you are interesting in it, please read the end note.

“Nine heroes and their colleagues.

Six Shadowed Lords and the assets they bring:

One Ghost.

One god.

One collector.

One Man

One Cypher.

One Leader.

Six Stones.

One Weapon.

One Crucible.

One Ring.

Seven Lords:

One Lion

One Phoenix

One Warhawk

One Wolf

One Son

One Salamander

One Raven

And a little luck.” -A List of Items Required

Titanfall Galaxy

The Outlands

Hammond Robotics Lab 365-772

It was night out, and Dr. Lisa Wiltalker sat in the same chair, in the same office, as she did every night. But this time, she didn’t really mind. It was a wonderful night outside, crisp and clear, with the stars shining through the window, creating an ambient atmosphere of peace. Though, in reality, it was actually due to her work that she didn’t mind staying late.

She was the head of the facility, one of the most important ones in the Outlands region of space, and it was her duty to advance the Hammond company by any means necessary. And, by God, the opportunities that presented themselves now! Eight new universes that had just materialized from nowhere. Eight! The circumstances that presented themselves for Hammond and herself were...endless.

She was currently studying everything she could about these new galaxies, trying to learn anything and everything she could…

She looked up sharply. Could have sworn something was moving in the shadows… No. She had been here for...fifteen hours, was it? It was nighttime, and it was a lonely, empty office building, so no wonder her senses were playing tricks on her sleep deprived mind. She stood up, stretched, grabbed a coffee from the machine in the room, and sipped it while looking out the window and the stars. Feeling better, or at least more caffeinated, she returned to the task at hand.

Eight new galaxies. Endless opportunities to sell the products of Hammond. Spectre robots, the latest and greatest in infantry fighting machines, faster, stronger, and tougher than a man; explosive Ticks, small drones that seeked out enemies and detonated; and, of course, Titans. She didn’t think that any of the other galaxies had technology like that, and where better to add to their arsenals but from the Hammond Corporation? Made perfect sense…

She snapped around sharply. She swore she could have heard something moving, swore she could see something just inside her peripheral vision… She shook her head again. The office was massively secure, with guards, both of bolt and steel, and flesh and blood stationed throughout it. When in a sleep deprived and lonely situation, everyone started seeing the boogeyman hiding in the corners. She shook her head ruefully and turned on more lights.

Where was she? Ah, yes. Opportunities. Who to sell to? Everyone, if possible. Who could turn down six meter tall war machines, implemented with the finest in A.I. technology, programmed in the art of death and destruction? Well, probably a few of the more dense and/or peaceful of the governments out there. She leafed through a dossier.

The Galactic Assembly? No. Has only had two major wars in the last century, both of which had ended within the year. The United Federation of Planets? Also no. Too regulatory, too jealous of their own technology. The Galactic Empire? This one looked promising. A pro-human empire that had been fractured and on the losing side of a major war in recent years, desperate for anything to turn the tide. Yes, this-

A cold, metallic hand gripped her throat, preventing any sound from getting out, and a horribly deep, rasping, grating voice sounded in her ear.

“You ever get the feeling you’re not alone in the room? It’s because you’re not.”

The extremely tall, spindly...thing stood over the corpse of Dr. Wiltalker. The body had a massive, jagged, yet precise hole ripped through the torso, directly where the heart was, and currently lay deep in a pool of its own clotting blood. The thing, made of cold steel yet looking oddly humanoid, stood above it, watching, savoring the sensation.

“One more off the list,” it said in the same rasping voice. It made a move to turn, to exit the room, but stopped. It stared at the desk. At the dossier. “Interesting,” it muttered. It picked it up. “Very interesting indeed.” It leafed through it. The machine turned.

It had once been he. He had once been living. He had been turned into this… synthetic nightmare by Hammond, against his will or knowledge. He snarled and suppressed a shudder of rage. Once the greatest hitman the Syndicate, Hammond, or anyone else had ever known, at some unknown point his mind had been altered, his body destroyed and replaced with… this. He snarled again.

He had been having his revenge against everyone and everything associated with the company… but this new knowledge. This changed things. So many possibilities. So many skinsuits. So little time. He was the boogeyman. He was the Revenant. And he would have his vengeance.

Warhammer 40k Galaxy

Solemnace, Necron Tomb World

The hallways were jet black, cut from a strange stone that seemed to absorb all light around it. The only illumination came from strange runes and lighting fixtures that seemed to blend into the halls and ceilings. The light was a pale, bright green, and cast strange shadows on the halls and objects residing within. It swirled throughout the space, as if it didn’t quite understand what exactly it was supposed to be illuminating. A human would have found the long halls exceptionally strange. Disconcerting. Creepy, even, if one were less eloquent. It seemed like something from a horror movie, with mad creatures waiting to leap from the shadows on the unaware.

Even more strange and disconcerting were the objects located within the halls. Strange devices, artifacts, and objects littered the space. Each one almost unrecognizable; completely unknown except to the most knowledgeable of galactic historians, and, of course, the curator. For this place, this entire planet, in fact, was so much more than strange alien hallways and lighting that did not agree with the human ocular system. Above all else, itt was a place that preserved history.

The massive galleries, for that is what they were, contained a great many strange, horrifying, and wondrous things. Everything, from inactive artifacts of history to living beings had their place here. Each was protected, frozen in status by eldritch technologies. A massive man in baroque power armor. Tens of thousands of Imperial Guardsmen, from many different worlds, (including some lost) scattered throughout different exhibits. Huge war machines, from almost every race to bestride the stars. A large, beautifully embellished bell. Korks, the ancient and ferocious genetic predecessors of orks. The ossified husk of some strange, jellyfish-like being. The preserved head of an Imperial Saint. The graceful Eldar of the last high council of the destroyed Craftworld Idharae. Space Marines, from almost every chapter and legion imaginable. Several Inquisitors that had been just a bit too nosy. A Custodian. Stange, undocumented blue crab-like aliens. Members of species thought to be long dead by the rest of the galaxy. The total list would probably take hours, if not days or weeks, to describe.

The long galleries were patrolled by odd beings, bipedal silver robots with elongated skulls, wielding strange spears. They seemed to be mindless, uncaring of the weariness that would affect any other beings by the constant patrolling.

On one of the wings of the planet-sized museum, an individual studied a huge sculptured head. It was old and grimy, its original and secondary colors lost to time. The figure was lost in it, its bulk taking up a huge display gallery. Once upon a time the head had been part a a figure called the Statue of Liberty, and had resided in the human hive city of Nuva York on the Throneworld of mankind. 38,000 years ago. It was a huge monument to human accomplishment. 38,000 years ago. It was a historical relic, a testament to mankind’s history. 30,000 years ago. It disappeared, never to be seen again, a missing piece of history. 24,000 years ago. Now it resided here. It mattered nothing to the individual. He was older than the statue. Older than the human race itself.

His body was similar to those of the gallery guardians, but much more ornamented and higher quality. Made of silvery metal, his legs were long but powerful. A metallic rib cage, with a strange symbol etched in the breastbone attached, the legs to similarly structured arms. His metallic skull had a largely elongated jaw, with a permanent mouth etched in the metal. A cloak made of interlocking metallic plates was thrown across his back, and in his hands was a strange staff, made of the same metal as he was.

A sigh of contentment, strangely synthesized, escaped his lips (or what passed for them). While he did often travel the galaxy, looking for artifacts and individuals to add to his ever-growing collection, it was nice to look at his gains. He turned and strode out of the gallery hall.

A vast open room stretched before him, much better lit than his galleries. Ornamented skeletal warriors, weapons at the ready, stood on guard. They were there not only to protect him (not that he needed it, mind you, there were plenty of tricks up his sleeve), but the massive museum itself. He surmounted the steps to his throne, ornamental carved from the black rock, and surveyed his domain. He was not here simply to oversee his galleries. No. A voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“My lord?” asked another metallic servant, this one bearing heavier limbs and more decoration than its fellows. The seated figure looked up. A huge holographic map, made of eerie green light, sprung to life, taking up the majority of the colossal room. It showed not one, but nine different galaxies. Each a treasure trove. Each begging to be explored.

Trazyn the Infinite, Phaeron of the Nihilakh Dynasty, Archaeovist of Solemnace, curator of the Prismatic Galleries, and collector extraordinaire turned his head to the map. Eight new galaxies. Eight new sets of history. So little time. So much to collect.

Marvel Galaxy

Within the passages between worlds

There were ways. Passages between realms and planets, known to only a few. Some might call them ‘wormholes’, some ‘slip spaces’, others just plain ‘magic’. They were small, strange, holes in time and space. While naturally occurring, and while able to be explained by science, few ever found them. Fewer still ever used them.

Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief, was not among those few. He was with the tiny minority, the smallest percentage of all beings: he knew where they were, knew how they worked, and used them frequently. They were so incredibly useful; too hard to pass up. Not even Heimdall, all-seeing guardian of the Nine Realms, could not peer into them. Poor Heimdall. The man was a tedious bore, but he really didn’t deserve to die like he did.

Loki died that day too, choked to death at the hands of the Mad Titan, Thanos. Or did he? Was this the original Loki, cheating death yet again? Was this another Loki from the same universe, the same timeline, transported here? Maybe. Or was this a Loki from somewhere else entirely; the same individual from a different universe? It was possible. One never really knew with the God of Lies.

Loki wasn’t truly evil. He had a habit for causing mass death and destruction, but those killed were mortals, were they not? A few years taken off their miserably short lives wouldn't really affect anything. He liked power, enjoyed it, would use force to get it, but, at heart, he wasn’t malevolent.

But now, out there, seen in the spaces between time and space, there were new things. Things that truly were malevolent. Evil. Things that would enslave all sentients, destroy all life, rend reality asunder.

He was no hero. But things like this...they needed to be stopped. So, unfortunately, he would probably end up fighting on the side of heroes. However, that didn’t mean he still couldn’t find time for mischief...

Mass Effect Galaxy

Cronos Station, Headquarters of Cerberus

The room was bare, with only an ergonomic chair standing alone in the center. A huge window, sleek and curved, with no obstructions, gave view to a massive fiery star. Tendrils of fire, both red and yellow, spun into space, guaranteed to take any viewer’s breath away. The floor was black and polished, reflecting the star’s burning light. Sitting in the chair in the center of the room, surrounded by orange and blue holograms, was a single human.

He was wearing an extremely expensive, well-tailored suit, the edges perfectly cut to fit his frame. His brown hair was neatly styled, and his eyes glowed blue, replaced long ago with prosthetics. He stood, glass of incredibly expensive liquor in hand, the glowing tip of a cigarette sticking from the edge of his mouth, staring at the holograms. Somehow, he contrived to make the vices look incredibly elegant and classy, like a movie star of old.

He was the Illusive Man. One of the, if not the most powerful individuals in the galaxy. Creator of the pro-human terrorist organization Cerberus. He saw his duty plainly: humanity must become the most prominent race throughout the stars. He was not xenophobic. Far from it. He simply wanted his species to succeed, and if lesser individuals saw that as racist, saw him as a terrorist, then so be it. He cared nothing for the opinions of the weak. Those who were not willing to act were not worthy of inheriting the stars. But now...complications.

Eight new galaxies. He knew a great many things about them; far more than most. There were new threats. New problems. New factions and people of incredible power. But most importantly, humanity existed in all eight. His species.

Whether through the iron might of the Imperium of Man, or the peace and technological progress of the United Federation of Planets, humanity was in a prominent place in all of them. He would see them remain that rightful place. But now there were threats. Too many to handle alone. He would need help, and he would need it as quickly as possible if he were to succeed.

The holograms scrolled past, showing names. Faces. Dossiers. Heroes. Villains. Species.

The Illusive Man sat in his chair, cigarette dangling from his mouth as if forgotten. He was thinking. Planning. He needed more help, needed more people, needed more knowledge. Knowledge was power. Power was required to raise mankind to the top. Simple, but not easy. He thought some more.

Unknown Location

The faint light, cast by the glow of a nearby star, emanated from large floor to ceiling windows. The star was old, cold, but still let out a pure white light, enough to illuminate the room through the heavy, cathedral-like windows. It contrasted with the empty blackness of space, the only light beyond the star being faint pinpricks, barely enough to cast a second glance at. The room itself was dark. Nothing could be seen of it. Not its size, not its purpose, or any items within. The light only illuminated two figures standing side by side, staring out into the blackness of space.

The one on the right was the shorter of the two. It looked to be human, with two arms, two legs, and a head sticking out from a normal human frame. However, one couldn’t really tell what it was, for its face was hidden by an armored black mask and helmet. Two rectangular eye slits, glowing a dim red in the light of the star, looked out through the window. It wore black armor and gloves, stylized so as to allow the greatest range of motion possible. A heavy black coat, reinforced by some form of anti-ballistic material, reached down to the figure’s ankles. Holstered at its side was a large pistol, a human-made automatic of heavy calibre.

The figure on the left was massive. While the one in black was slightly taller than six feet, it towered a full eight feet tall. Its form was large and bulky, with joints of massive power armor poking through a plain white robe that hid the majority of its figure. A white hood covered its head, and while one might think this figure was some strange alien, the bottom of the face that could be seen through the hood and shadows was unmistakably human. It had a broad and chiseled face that fit the rest of its massive form, hinting that the bulkiness of its figure came not from the armor, but from the body beneath it. Two pistols were holstered at its side, both oversized to fit in the figure’s large armored gauntlets. One was blocky and black, and while heavily ornamented, seemed to be of the type that fired something akin to bullets. The other glowed a soft blue, coils replacing what would have been the slide on an automatic pistol.

An utterly massive sword was strapped to the figure’s back, and while beautifully adorned and seemingly crafted by a master, it was too large even for the tall man to wield it. Instead, it was kept in its place, resting on his back.

The taller man spoke. “You know what must be done, yes?” His voice was a deep baritone, rumbling with massive power and reverberating through the darkness.

“Yes.” The shorter figure’s voice was scarred and metallic, spoken through some sort of modulator in the mask it wore.

“Then we must move quickly.” The man on the left turned and stared down at the black-clad figure on the right. “There are those who would seek to stop this.”

“It is logical. I see no other way to make things right for everyone.”

“Good. Then it is necessary to do what must be done,” said the deep voice.

“The fate of the universe hangs on the shoulders of a few. But they have done it before. Proven their worth,” replied the black figure.

“This time there are forces outside of their control. Things they are not powerful enough to fight. This is why we must help them.” The red lenses tilted up towards the tall man’s face.

“Indeed. We have a mission, and for the good of all we must not fail.”

Hope you liked the story. I know that both Loki and the Illusive Man are kind of bad guys, and the the Illusive Man goes heavy off the deep end in ME 3, but that hasn’t happened yet, and I need all of these characters on the same side. Now, the message. If you have any ideas for stories you want me to write or any characters that fit in with the Shadowed Lords you want to include, please tell me and I will consider writing them if the fit in. If you have any comments, criticisms, concerns, or questions, don’t hesitate to ask! I hope you enjoyed the story, and I hope that you have a great day. Or night. Or whatever.

Edit: Also, Revenant is a sociopathic murderer, so he isn’t exactly a good guy either.

#magnificent scoundrels #story #writing #my writing #my story #fanfic #crossover story #mass effect #apex legends #warhammer 40k #marvel

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thebrochtuarachs · 7 years ago

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A Little Outlander Book Chapter Comparison

Spoilers for Book/Season 2 and Book/Season 4 A little Jamie/Kitty x Jamie/Brianna Moment

I’m not sure if this has been done already (but I kinda feel it has) but I’ve been rewatching and rereading the series in this Droughtlander season and saw these wee moments I thought were just lovely and thought to share!

HERE WE GO!

So in Dragonfly in Amber (C35)/Season 2 (E08), Jamie and Wee Kitty were accompanying each other through a restless night.

Jamie whispers sweet nothings to Kitty in Gaelic. Here is what he said:

A little side note: It’s interesting (and a little heartbreaking!) for me that Jamie speaks of Claire to Kitty as if she was already gone and lost. I mean, he lists her among his dead parents and brother. Maybe after Paris, Jamie knew that history cannot be changed at after all and that Culloden will come regardless and he has already decided that he will save Claire, take her back to the stones and safety, long before the war has arrived...

Okay, I’m getting side tracked again - Now, back to why I made this post! :)

Upon seeing them both, Claire had this heartbreaking look upon her face. Jamie with a child - and it’s not theirs. A new wave of hurt passed through her because she remembered the child they just lost, the child that Jamie never saw and will never see, the child he should be holding had not the worst of luck upon their circumstance.

As Claire watched them, she had this thought:

"One day perhaps he would hold his own child so, small round head cradled in the big hands, small solid body cupped and held firm against his shoulder. And thus he would sing to his own daughter, a tuneless song, a warm, soft chant in the dark." (DOA, C35)

Simple and all she ever wanted for their life together.

I was rewatching this Jamie x Kitty scene and thought how it was written in the book and immediately, a moment in DOA hit me and I thought to check it was at least, similar in nature - and oh my, I think, in many ways - it was! (See highlights in bold)

Reread Drums of Autumn (Book 4) for the nth time and stumbled upon this passages again where (SPOILER!) Jamie tells Bree that he knows of her pregnancy (C47). The scenes after the initial shock of the news was just a tender and precious moment that goes like this:

“Come here to me, a leannan.” He reached for her, and gathered her awkwardly onto his knee.

The oakwood creaked alarmingly under their combined weight, but Jamie had built it after his usual sturdy fashion; it could have held six of him. Tall as Brianna was, she looked almost small cradled in his arms, her head tucked into the curve of his shoulder. He stroked her hair gently, and murmured small things to her, half in Gaelic...

She gave a small laugh that turned into a sob, and buried her head in the cloth of his shoulder. He patted her, rocking and murmuring as though she were a tiny girl with a skinned knee, and his eyes met mine over her head...

But now she clung to him and wept, as much from relief, I thought, as from grief. He simply held her and let her cry, stroking her hair again and again, his eyes on my face...I blotted my eyes on my sleeve, and he smiled at me, faintly. Brianna had subsided into long, sighing breaths, and he patted her gently on the back...

They were still on the settle when I came back in, red heads close together, haloed by the fire...Jamie was talking quietly when I came back. I finished my preparations, letting the deep lilt of his voice soothe me, as well as Brianna.

“I used to think of you, when ye were small,” Jamie was saying to Bree, his voice very soft. “When I lived in the cave; I would imagine that I held ye in my arms, a wee babe. I would hold ye so, against my heart, and sing to ye there, watching the stars go by overhead.”

“What would you sing?” Brianna’s voice was low, too, barely audible above the crackle of the fire. I could see her hand, resting on his shoulder. Her index finger touched a long, bright strand of his hair, tentatively stroking its softness.

“Old songs. Lullabies I could remember, that my mother sang to me, the same that my sister Jenny would sing to her bairns.”

She sighed, a long, slow sound. “Sing to me now, please, Da.” He hesitated, but then tilted his head toward hers and began to chant softly, an odd tuneless song in Gaelic. Jamie was tone-deaf; the song wavered oddly up and down, bearing no resemblance to music, but the rhythm of the words was a comfort to the ear.

“Do you know something, Da?” Bree asked softly.

“What’s that?” he said, momentarily suspending his song.

“You can’t sing.”

There was a soft exhalation of laughter and the rustle of cloth as he shifted to make them both more comfortable.

“Aye, that’s true. Shall I stop, then?”

“No.” She snuggled closer, tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder. He resumed his tuneless crooning, only to interrupt himself a few moments later.

“D’ye ken something yourself, a leannan?”

Her eyes were closed, her lashes casting deep shadows on her cheeks, but I saw her lips curve in a smile.

“What’s that, Da?”

“Ye weigh as much as a full-grown deer.”

“Shall I get off, then?” she asked, not moving.

“Of course not.”

She reached up and touched his cheek.

“Mi gradhaich a thu, athair,” she whispered. My love to you, Father.

He gathered her tightly against him, bent his head and kissed her forehead. The fire struck a knot of pitch and blazed up suddenly behind the settle, limning their faces in gold and black. His features were harsh-cut and bold; hers, a more delicate echo of his heavy, clean-edged bones.

Both stubborn, both strong. And both, thank God, mine. (DIA, C47)

And just like that, in that moment, after twenty-three years, Claire had all she wanted. Her husband and her daughter - together. Just as she thought and imagined - but now, real.

I am most excited for this Fraser Family Reunion this coming season 4. I know there are other parts to look out for but for me, but for me, I will just love to watch ALL their family moments unfold in the screen and I’m sure I will be a heart-melted puddle of my fangirl self. I canna wait for November to come!

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ourcollectivefantasy · 6 years ago

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Resignation: A Love Story

((I’m sorry this is so late, it takes place back in August when the stuff in Darkshore and Teldrassil happened!))

I should be in on the front, in Darkshore. Or, rather, if I were were still an officer of the Silvermoon military, I should be at the front, in Darkshore. As of yesterday, when I resigned my commission, I am no longer an officer or any other rank. My earlier misgivings about the Warchief's plans became reality when I saw the orange glow of Teldrassil burning in the distance like a second sunset from where I stood at the camp infirmary. They were similar to the misgivings I had since we've started mining the blood of our bleeding planet immediately after destroying the titanic enemy that has loomed over this world and all races of elves for over 10,000 years. As soon as we stepped off the broken planet of Argus, and the Warchief 's response was to weaponize the injury to our world against the Alliance we had just finished fighting alongside, I knew this would end in tears. There was a small hope that, maybe, Sylvanas would tread a different path than her predecessors, but that hope died along with countless kaldorei citizens. In a way, I suppose it was the logical progression for the Banshee Queen; she has displayed complete apathy for the living since the destruction of Southshore. Why would she suddenly spare a thought for any other living thing, be it our planet or unarmed civilians.

There were a hundred thoughts swimming through my brain, and those thoughts kept me quiet as I stepped out of the castle's double doors and walked towards the carriage house. It was a lovely day; one nice thing about living on the shoreline cliffs of Western Tirisfal was that, even during the hottest part of summer, it was never unbearably hot and the wind was constant. In a moment of nostalgia I recalled how the wind used to screech and wail through the castle hallways before Iloam and I repaired the ruined stone structure and patched the holes in walls and windows. He gifted this castle to me, and for years it was our project - rebuilding and restoring the seaside ruins into something more like a home. Now, it was definitely a home to me, and to my children. I also hoped it was a home to Iloam, but my Prince of Flaws is a traveller to his bones. Home for him will always be people more than places. If there was any part of the castle in particular that Iloam would claim as his home it would be the garage. The doors to the old carriage house were wide open, allowing Iloam’s music to escape and catch on the ocean breeze that also cooled the inside. Walking up to the doorway, I rapped my knuckles on the wood so he heard my approach and could ask me to leave if he was so inclined. That is how you give someone a place of their own; you respect their space and abide by their authority in that space. I like to think he appreciated the small show of respect; indeed, even as I lifted my hand to knock Iloam lifted his head from his motorbike to look towards me and offer a faint smile of greeting. I felt an answering smile tease my lips as I made my way inside towards speakers and amps against one wall. Carefully I climbed up atop one nearest to his workspace and made myself comfortable sitting with criss-crossed legs as the treble and bass of the music thrummed rhythmically under my backside. It brought on a small grin, and I wiggled idly in place, appreciating Iloam setting it up there for me to sit on and enjoy while I came to hang out with him. He knew how I liked the feel of the vibrations on my butt. It was just one of a million little things Iloam did to show me his love. From there I simply sat in my own silence, my gaze following Iloam as he returned to his tinkering. Music filled the empty space more comfortably than idle chatter would. Once I used to feel an almost desperate need to fill that silence with words. For the first couple years of our relationship I had hundreds of questions for him, gently and carefully probing and uncovering him little by little; not just for conversation, but also to still the doubts and anxieties that would threaten to drown me when it grew too quiet. He is not the kind of person who opens up or trusts easily, but neither of us are, really. However, I did enjoy learning about him, and all that same time he too was watching and listening. And now, 8 years later, although I still freely chattered Iloam's ear off often enough, I was quite content with our comfortable silence and just being close to him. Truthfully, I enjoyed just being silent and close to him more that I enjoyed talking and doing anything with anyone else. It was a soothing atmosphere to let my thoughts sink back into current events with the war, the slaughtered of Teldrassil, and my resignation. The music vibrated through me as I thought back to the march through those ancient forests. Rank and privaledge allowed me the option to leave the military at all; many did not have that choice. They would have to continue fighting this Warchief's battles as they have through the years, no matter who that Warchief was. There was a time I was eager to face the Alliance and fight against them. Just a couple years ago really, though it seems ages ago, when my fury over the treatment of our people at the hands of the humans - coupled with thier easy acceptance of the kaldorei who once exiled us - drove me to turn my hand against the enemies of the Horde. Then, Theramore happened. For the past few days I've been trying to avoid thinking of Theramore, but now my mind shifted fully to it. We'd been fighting in the muggy swamp for weeks, and I was at the edge of Dustwallow when I watched the horrifying dome of the mana bomb grow and consume the city. I knew exactly what it was; I'd been to the Outlands and seen while Kael'thas went mad and attacked so many settlements with that same power. I knew then who had facilitated the destruction of Theramore - Hellscream may have ordered it, but sin'dorei gave him the weapon to do so. The realization filled me with terrible guilt and helpless rage at the position we'd put ourselves. No matter how angry I had been with the Alliance, our grievances did not warrent THIS response. Then, I had lingered in despair for days, and Iloam gave me those few days as space before taking me away for a short holiday to Nagrand. We slept outside and watched the stars and worlds move across the sky, and he held me and quietly comforted me. Iloam didn't naturally empathize with people, and he usually didn't really get why people felt one way or another. But he knew I was in pain, and he immediately decided upon a plan of action to address it. He didn’t get why I cared, I why I despaired, but still he held me as I cried and murmured comforting words to bring my thoughts from drowning in that deep lake of grief. When that happened, I had been close to leaving the Horde army. I ended up staying because I felt our people needed to redeem ourselves. So I was eager to fight alongside Silvermoon forces when we finally rose up against Hellscream and the Korkron. As we defeated them, I felt better about fighting for the Horde, especially when the Legion finally came. There was an enemy that threatened all of life on Azeroth, whether Horde, Alliance, or others. It was the first war since Northrend against the Scourge where I felt our cause was right, and I eagerly coordinated House Akh’Argar's forces and Jericho with the greater Horde army. And then... when the Horde army invaded Darkshore, I was called upon as I've been called for every battle the Horde fights since the Sin'dorei joined it. So many lives lost against the Burning Legion, so many homes destroyed from when thier ships attacked, and instead of healing and rebuilding, we were again being called to war? And not even meaningful war, but an attack on Alliance lands as if we hadn't spent the last year and a half fighting and bleeding at thier sides. I knew the Dark Lady maintained her own grievances against some Alliance leaders, and many of them still blamed us for the death of thier King, but this sudden agression seemed absolute folly. I know my House’s soldiers were exhausted from the war against the Legion. I would not be calling them to fight in these battles in Kalimdor. They would be sent to keep watch on the borders of Quel'thalas for when the Alliance gathered thier completely understandable retaliation. But I was a Silvermoon Officer, and when the Horde armies called, I was duty bound to obey. But even then... I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to see another Theramore. And now Teldrassil burned, and I resigned. What would the nobility of Silvermoon think of me now? What would they think of my House? That was the thing that weighed on me the most. What have my actions done to the reputation of Akh'Argar? Would my own soldiers, the people of my House, have any respect for me now? Or would they see me as a dishonorable coward for leaving just as things began to get really messy on the front. A deep sigh escaped me, lost in the thrum of the bass mechguitar playing through the speakers. My eyes returned to the present, and the sweaty, freckled shoulders hunched and flexing as eight nimble fingers worked at the dirty bike engine. I had no idea what Iloam was doing, what tiny adjustment was required for the machine. As a surgeon, I generally don't futz with things until they actually break, and then I fixed them with the hope of that fix being permanent. I'd learned that tinkering is not exactly the same; sure there were broken things you fixed, but there seemed to be continual adjustments and improvements that you could impliment if you were so inclined. And seeing as Iloam had about four bikes, he had a lot to work with. There was something about being able to observe Iloam like this. He enjoyed having me there with him too, even if we didn't speak or touch. His back was turned on me almost completely, and that was a huge thing in and of itself. Although his own thoughts wandered elsewhere, he was comfortable enough to have his back on me - no, not just comfortable. More than comfortable. He trusted me to watch his back. Another tiny thing; another huge expression of intense love. When I burst into his office at Blacksong Records and announced I was quitting the military, his only response was "Alright." He didn’t ask why, he didn't look at me like a coward ot traitor, he just instantly respected my decision with no change in his regard for me. Today he still was willing to let me watch his back. I thought back to the day he tried to "distract" me when I was still so distant and melancholy weeks after Theramore fell. I was fully overcome with worry and grief, so Iloam decided a fun way to entertain me would be to play hide and seek somewhere in the Azeroth. The twist was that he'd drunk some kind of poison so there was a time limit: I would have to find him before he died. I was so furious with him. After I found him and treated him, I brought him back here to the castle, back before it was fully restored, with the intention of carving my rage into his flesh so he would never again doubt his importance to me. However, Iloam managed to stop me before I even started when he insisted he was never in any real danger, because he had faith in me, that I would find him. It was such a shocking claim, from him of all people, that he believed in me - Iloam, who learned long ago never to believe in anyone. That very thing stayed constantly on my mind, that no matter what was going on, Iloam believed in me and had faith in us. He backed those words up time and again with his actions, with the way he fought his own inclinations and tried in so many ways, large and small, on the basis of that belief. No matter what society and nobility thought of me, no matter what my own House thought, Iloam would always stand with me. He wouldn't disparage me or doubt me. He had faith in me, in us. It was enough - it was everything. As the current song ended and the next song began with its bassy opener, I slid off the amp and walked over to my Prince of Flaws at his sweaty, grungy work. He heard and felt my movement, and paused hid own, one long ear quirked up as he listened for my approach. I leaned down to press my lips against his sweaty, freckled shoulder, and leaned in to speak in his ear so he would hear over the music, "I love you. Thank you for always believing in me." Then I nipped his earlobe a bit. You know. Just because.

#rp blog #love #iloam x aelberyn #darkshore #horde army

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jacquelineshyde · 8 years ago

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i love all your posts and answears so much... i do not get tired of seen your point of view of the show. I rly want to know what do you think the gang would binge watch on netflix.

Oh, thank you SO much! I’m glad you like my posts and meta :)

Now, it depends on what part of their lives they are in. I’m going to do season 6 characterization for them, without ooc Eric and Donna, a more insightful Fez, and Kelso already in a relationship with Brooke.

- All together in the basement: Freaks and Geeks, Friends, How I Met Your Mother, Full House and Fuller House (eww), Star Trek if Eric woke up before Hyde that day/went to the basement before Hyde could grab the remote. Gilmore Girls if the girls got the remote before any of the guys.

They also watch The X-Files. Jackie isn’t a big fan, but still watches. They are all waiting for season 2 of Stranger Things, even if Jackie doesn’t want to admit she loves the show.

If Hyde gets the remote first, though, he would probably put on a concert or a Stage Comedy Show.

- Eric: All things Star Wars are already on Netflix nowdays, and so are some of the best Star Trek stuff out there. He would love to watch them on repeat like there’s no tomorrow, and he would ask Donna to watch with him, too. Netflix will be suggesting him other Space Operas and Sci-Fi projects that may be of his likings. I can see him discovering old movies like Starship Troopers, Starman, Near Encounters of the Third Kind, and finally, binge watching the hell out of Stranger Things, and being excited of seeing the second season this Halloween.

- Donna: Gilmore Girls, she is such a fan and has always been. It was the first TV Show she became a real fan of while growing up and she was so, so excited about the revival… and was so angry at how things went for Rory, she isn’t sure if she wants a second season of a ‘Year In The Life’– But she may watch the original show again once she discovers is on Netflix.She probably loved Dear White People, Sense8 and has a thing for the show Love, but doesn’t want anyone to know because sometimes, she feels like she and Eric are a little like the protagonists of said show and it makes her feel horrible. She commented it once to Jackie, who watched, then assured her it wasn’t the case. But she still feels it deep in her soul.Also watches documentals and concerts. And Orange Is The New Black (lmao).

- Eric and Donna: Aside from making the other watch their respective favorite shows, they would watched together Love and agree on how they are kind of similar to them and were embarrassed together; but the good thing is that it made them out their issues.

They would also cuddle to watch movies together, mostly sci-fi.

- Hyde: He loves Sons Of Anarchy and hates that Fox is getting it out of Netflix. He has seen it too many times, all complete, and Eric looks at him weird every time he notices he is watching it again. But he doesn’t give a shit (and let’s ignore the fact that Katey Sagal, Jax’s mom, is the same actress that play Hyde’s mom lol).

Like his friens, he likes Stranger Things but is more into watching Concerts and other Stage Shows. He likes Stage Shows Comedies and loves Master Of None. He also watched and loved The Get Down and is bitter as fuck it got cancelled while other crap is still there.

- Jackie: She liked Girlboss and The Get Down, it’s funny for everyone because those are two very different shows, but like many times before, she ignores them. She enjoys re-watching Gilmore Girls and watched Sex And The City for the first time there, but keeps watching the movies more than the show itself.

She wathed alone 13 Reasons Why and talked about it only with Hyde and Donna, separatelly. It made her feel horrible for many reasons, but mostly because she was a cheerleader and she knows plenty of girls who had been touched against their will, and she has endured that, too before becoming friends with them or dating Hyde. When he heard that, he almost losed his shit. Worst part is she didn’t liked the show anyway.

Also has seen Anne With An E, Glow (also watched it with Donna) and likes kinda a lot, Master Of None (which makes Hyde smile).

- Hyde and Jackie: They have a system to chose what to watch or who gets to chose what to watch. It started just with a flipping coin, and now it’s one day chose Jackie, the other choses Hyde. He made her watch Sons Of Anarchy and had to endure watch Gilmore Girls, especially since she often got like O_O while watching his show. Both are seventh seasons, so it worked.

They watch comedies together and Hyde is always scared at how often Jackie choses to watch horror movies, especially gore ones, and not even blink an eye as someone is being killed. She also loves more “intelligent” horror movies like The Babadook, A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night and It Follows, all in netflix.

He fears Halloween night.

- Fez: He loved The Get Down and is bitter as fuck for the cancellation. Also a fan of Master Of None, and Loves Grace & Frankie. He watches almost all kind of shows, though, and follows Orange Is The New Black, Jane The Virgin and One Day At The Time.

He and Kelso watched together the movie Wet Hot American Summer and immediatelly binge watched the show, Wet How American Summer: First Day of Camping. He likes that kind of humor a lot, so he will be seen often watching gross ass comedies from the 90s and so.

- Kelso: Wet Hot American Summer is one of his favorites movies and he loved the mini series. Ever since he got the idea of becoming a cop and started school, he is obssessed with Brooklyn 99 and will be watching it like there is no tomorrow at any given hour and moment. He also likes comedies like Arrested Development and loves the Marvel shows.

He also watches lots of the DC shows, probably likes some crap like Arrow and is a Felicity stan, but his friends love him anyway.

Also watched Gilmore Girls while dating Jackie, and had to again when Donna and Jackie got Brooke into watching it. Brooke also made him watch The Crown and Outlander. But they also watched Vikings and that made him happy.

#that 70s show #eric forman #jackie burkhart #steven hyde #donna pinciotti #sheakspaere #michel kelso #fez #nini got mail #mine #my headcanons #modern au #au tag #that modern au #basement gang #headcanons

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swtorramblings · 8 years ago

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On Vaylin

I am re-posting this, my rough draft of a post that I wrote to my main blog when I found that my annoyance with certain game events aggravated me so badly I needed a place to publicly vent. I tried to move it here and broke the whole thing, so lost some of the edits and other information (I’m still learning the ropes). I still want to have it up, but I am also not putting in the tags it used to have. I am trying to be more positive, now, though I will have one more negative, but somewhat calmer, post on the subject in the near future, because even after a month and a half it still gets to me.

I am going on a rant about the SWTOR expansion, Knights of the Eternal Throne. I don’t think anyone is likely to see this that, 1. Cares about SWTOR, 2. Cares about my opinion of SWTOR, 3. Doesn’t already know the plot of KOTET. If I’m wrong, note that there are spoilers ahead.

Too long, didn’t read: Vaylin’s fate is for crap, a badly told mess even if the basic plot of “man and woman enter, only man can leave” wasn’t already a problem.

Note: I’m not really looking for debate. I’m just venting. But, if you must, keep it civil. My ire is meant for Bioware and for the people who have approached disagreements on this subject rudely.

Now, my therapy will begin.

I will be up front about my core bias: I have seen enough stories where a man and a woman fulfill similar roles in the story, have similar experiences, and, in this case, commit similar crimes (of type if not of scale), but the man survives and the woman doesn’t. I was never, ever going to like this plotline. Give us the choice to save both, give us the choice of which one can be saved (Bioware loves that), or don’t let us save either. All would be better, though I prefer the first two.

I fully understand that she was written without those little moments of remorse that he was. I do understand what Bioware was going for. It’s not difficult to see, it was unsubtle. It was also hamfisted and obnoxious. So don’t tell me how obvious it was that she was too far gone and like that: I’m well aware. I just don’t find it to be a good story, especially with so much of how it was handled. They chose to make her that way, they did not have to, and even in making that choice they could have done better.

Finally, I recognize this is a game. It is also, however, a story, and how we tell and share stories is important to me, and this one was awful. Bioware tried to tell a tale of tragedy and familial abuse and mental illness and brainwashing, in an action game with a trinary response, and the lack of nuance didn’t do them any favors. If they couldn’t tell the story with care and sensitivity, they shouldn’t have told it at all.

Vaylin irredeemable. Why? Because mummy and brother can’t find any good in her with their Detect Good spell? Please. Because daddy says she is like a wild animal? Please squared. They should get no say whatsoever.

I swear, whether or not Vaylin ultimately must die I wanted the option to tell them all off. When they say something like that, I want to say, <point to Senya> “You feared her and abandoned her.” <point to Arcann> “You neglected her and killed her brother. Out of everyone living outside of my head, you two are the most responsible for what she has become. Neither of you have any say in how we are going to handle this. And we’re going to do what we can to save her. Period. And if you want any more reason than she’s your family, or the horrible things you both allowed to happen to her, or your own empathy, Valkorian is telling me she has to die, and I refuse to do what that monster says. Are we clear?”

Oh, and that bit where you get the option to tell her that Valkorian wants you to kill her? To try to talk her down? That’s the Light option, Bioware. You’re irredeemable is the neutral option. How hard is that to figure out?

Because she’s a threat to your troops? No. The moment you tell them that Valkorian wants her dead, they should be changing their blasters to stun settings. Well, if those exist in TOR, if they haven’t been invented yet, someone should get on that (and if they do every single light side character should carry one, even if they are clumsy and random, for situations like this). But your troops know what he is, and should be willing to help you out here.

Because she killed a lot of people, including your buddy (speaking of hamfisted story telling)? Arcann killed HK-55 (but, you know, droid, and anti-droid bigotry is certainly a thing in Star Wars, even with otherwise light-side types) and almost certainly many times as many people. I do hope you don’t have him with you if your reason to kill her is because of her crimes (and if you executed him for his, congratulations, you are more consistent with your actions than the game company known for its awesome stories. I say, without irony, good job).

Because she’s killed your buddy and you want revenge? Point. I have no rebuttal, but then, I don’t really have a problem you being able to choose to kill her, here (aside from my “Bioware created an awful and poorly told story of familial abuse where you have to/get to kill the victims” thing), my problem is that you have to kill her but you can save Arcann.

Because she slaughtered her troops with her force powers when they annoyed her or just to show off? Again, hope you haven’t saved Arcann after halving his own forces. Just because she does it herself doesn’t mean he’s less heinous, and magical force powers healed him.

Because she’s too broken to live? That’s really the crux of what Bioware was going for: her mind was crippled by Valkorian and can never be gotten back to what it was. Her sanity can never be restored so we have to kill her because of the combination of her powers and her madness. Well, even if I fully accepted this, I want to be allowed to show sympathy within the game. Yeah, I can pretend that’s what the Outlander is really doing, but some things I’d like explicitly stated, and this is one of those. Just say you’re sorry you have to do this before stabbing or shooting her. I wouldn’t like it, as I said, but it’s a small step up, anyway. And they couldn’t give us that option.

Mock her like a villain? You can. Ask her to surrender? You can. Show sympathy and offer help? No, not really. Not use the command phrase, or even show a shred of sorrow or even embarrassment over its use? Nope, and you’re going to expose it to the galaxy, her shame, her lack of control, the awfulness of her parents! I can’t imagine why she hates you so much, especially with her awful family around you, but you did that to her

This is an abuse victim. Further, she had directed attempts to break her mind, body, and spirit to make her into something else. These things happened. The fact that you walk up to her, close enough to touch, with what sounds like whimpering and fear being the only sounds she’s making, and stab or shoot her is disgusting. If she’s supposed to be just Pure Evil, at least let her be ranting at the end. If she’s supposed to be Irredeemably Broken, pretty much the same. That bit of whimpering both makes her seem like someone not really all that dangerous and someone that I want to save. She made the same noises when you most recently defeat her, while she’s on her hands and knees before you, too. Shame you couldn’t have acted before she bubbled up, hero. Perhaps irrational, but there it is.

Because she doesn’t ask? Because she doesn’t want to be saved? Uhm, and? Bioware tried very hard to present her as completely gone, and why. She doesn’t get to choose whether the people around her are going to at least try to help her. Does that take away her agency as a character? Maybe, but I’d argue that her agency was already taken away by her father (and, by extension, the writers) a long time ago. In fact, note in Chapter 9: “Choice. I could get used to that.” At that point, after death, she has agency. Shame she couldn’t have gained some before that, like, by the Outlander trying to save her.

I actually think she was borderline suicidal. She fought beyond what was reasonable when already defeated, there at the end. When, after you continued her abuse by using her command phrase, she retreated and tortured herself, she shouts out not that she doesn’t want to die, but that she doesn’t want to die “in this place”. Scant evidence, since “not like this” is something people that don’t seem otherwise to want to die sometimes say. But, combined with what she has been through and her constant control by others (I’m looking at you, Outlander), it seems at least plausible. I don’t think it’s what the writers were going for, but I can’t unthink it, and it makes “she didn’t ask to be saved” take on a very different, and much worse, meaning.

Because she’s too dangerous? Maybe. There are some signs of it. She’s certainly been defeated often enough, but, yeah, her power is unlocked! Oh, wait, you beat her again. But, now she has that bubble thing, maybe it’s just going to keep going, burning her out and blowing up your base, if she’s not killed. Maybe her rage would drive her troops forward, even if she was unconscious or, say, in carbonite. It would be nice to have one of those explicitly stated before killing her, because at that point the decision to do that rather than try to take her alive makes more sense.

You had to kill the suicidal woman because she was going to kill everyone around you and it was the only way to stop her? Fine. Show some remorse that it came to that, lightsider. Show some empathy. Really all I want given the choice has already been made by the writers that she must die.

Honestly, there’s an episode of Justice League Unlimited where Batman sits down with Ace while she is dying and just stays with her. A moment like that would have been so much better for the nice characters. Instead, “You’re irredeemable!” stab/shot in the gut.

Maybe you just don’t have a non-lethal weapon. Maybe you should get one, we have them on Earth and can’t even break the speed of light or form light into a solid cutting tool.

Because it’s too risky to try to save her, long term? If you wanted the easy way, you’d have used the Emperor’s power every time he offered it, but you didn’t do that, even to save Lana, did you? But, then, accepting his advice and help is probably a bad idea. What did he tell you to do with his daughter and other family members, again?

Because she was always evil? Many of the things I’ve griped about are open to interpretation, this one included. There were moments when she could be interpreted to have a vicious streak as a little girl. She smiled when the guards died (I still believe that the guards should be hurt, not dead, because Senya should have talked about this instead of the crippled guard if Vaylin killed her sparring partners, but I digress). I interpret that as her happiness in showing off her power, and the moment after that as her guilt realizing what had happened. But, sure, the Dark Side could be interpreted as there, even then.

But that bubbly little girl, bouncing up and down with excitement while her big brothers spar? She’s evil? No. Just no. I fear I have no cogent argument to give on this subject, but I don’t accept it, anyway. They can’t all be gems. My entire diatribe is about how the Outlander should have been portrayed as more emotional, if the player so chooses, and I’m not immune myself.

Conclusion: I’m not happy that you are forced to kill an abuse victim, a mentally disturbed woman who, yes, has committed heinous crimes. This isn’t the right venue for such a story, if any venue is. I am doubly disgusted by the way it was approached, with the hero of the story mocking her and taking advantage of her weakness forced on her by the villain for tactical reasons. You don’t use the command phrase to capture her, or even really to save people nearby: it was always your plan to reveal the results of her abuse to the galaxy. I don’t like that you don’t appear to try to help her until after she’s dead, and are unable to choose to show any kind of remorse for what you must do. They took a story that would have annoyed me and made it into something really grotesque. Good job, Bioware.

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silverbrumbyfan · 7 years ago

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The Lion King Vs Simbas Pride Vs The Lion Guard

I know it doesn’t look like this is about shipping but it technically is because I find Kovu and Kiara absolutely adorable.

I just decided to watch Simbas Pride the other day after watching a few clips of the Lion Guard because damn that direct to video movie looks gorgeous in comparison.

I just watched Simbas Pride again because I started to realise they actually paid attention to detail but we’ll get there.

Also I’m not dealing with TLK 1 and a half because it doesn’t add anything to the story. Hands up here who are sick to death of prequels when a sequel has been practically gift wrapped for them.

The Lion King

This has and will always be my favourite CLASSIC Disney movie. The animation especially the attention to detail, the music, the characters and the emotional moments. Its all so beautiful. Almost perfect.

However, since Simbas Pride exists I have to compare the two movies.

Simbas Pride

I know this will be a rather unpopular opinion especially since I’m referring to a Disney direct to video sequel but after watching Simbas Pride just now I realised that I think its better than the original.

Now obviously it suffers from the poorer animation all direct to video sequels have BUT I think it looks better than most Disney sequels. While watching I kept looking at the other characters in the background and i was like hey wait they’re moving, they’re reacting its like they actually exist in that moment and haven’t turned to stone. Most Disney sequels will have other characters in the background but won’t really do anything with them, they’re just there because they’re there. The animation is still very similar to the original with just a few awkward moments here and there like in one scene Kiara walks as if her paws are sticking to the ground but its still very lion king and I am not a fan of the constant flashes of white teeth, like you showed them smiling normally before why the teeth now.

The music I think is better, He Lives in You (yes I know its from the West End/Broadway version) is my absolute favourite. My Lullaby is my favourite villain song. We are One is catchy and memorable. Upendi can fuck off though, that song is an evil ear worm, One of Us is an awesome song and finally Love Will Find a Way which I definitely prefer to Can you Feel the Love Tonight.

The stakes are much higher here. In the original Simba returned because he was the rightful king, and for some reason Scar’s rule turned the pridelands into a wasteland but the conflict in Simbas Pride is between 2 warring prides. If Simba loses to Zira his entire pride will be slaughtered. And the violence in this my word, I mean its a Disney flick there’s no blood or visible wounds but we can use our imagination, Disney distracts the kids from this by giving Timon and Pumbaa some screen time but you can’t look away as an adult. You see outsiders biting pridelanders throats, several pinning down one lioness and tearing at her. I mean yeah its a good thing Simba let the outsiders join the pride since he must have lost over half of his lionesses in the battle. And lets not forget Nuka’s tragic death, crushed to death by logs wow Disney you really can be dark sometimes.

Zira and the outsiders are better antagonists than Scar and the hyenas. Now don’t get me wrong I love Scar and I think he’s a great villian but he only commands hyenas who are only able to help him takeover due to their large numbers. Zira commands lions and I’m not entirely sure how many since every shot there seem to be more but I would guess between 10 and 20 lionesses. She has them train every day to prepare them for their inevitable battle with the pridelanders. Every time she speaks to her pride as a whole during battles she’s saying ‘remember your training’ and telling them the best way to incapacitate her enemies. Notice that she NEVER enters the battle herself. She holds back commanding from afar and only steps in when she’s sure of herself. Zira and the outsiders are fighting because they used to live in the pridelands while Scar ruled and Simba banished them to the outlands where they struggle to survive so to them Simba really is the villain of their tale whereas Scar and the hyenas do what they do because of a hunger for power. Because Zira and her pride were once pridelanders under Scar it adds a sense of mystery to them. With Scar you didn’t really need to know why you just accepted he’s evil and moved on but with Zira and her pride you do want to know. Why would Simba just straight up banish a large part of his pride just because they were Scar’s supporters or did something happen? Why does he warn Kiara they can’t be trusted? Sigh, it makes me sad when you see all these questions could have been answered in another film, film set during Scar’s reign in The Lion King would have been ideal.

The romance in this was fairly rushed but I don’t really care because I love Kovu and Kiara. From their first meeting they are absolutely adorable. My favourite�� moment is when Kiara tries to get Kovu to play with her and when he acts confused she switches to something she thinks he knows its just a shame Simba had to interrupt when he did. I’d have loved to see them tussle a bit first. Then when they’re grown they help Timon and Pumbaa and Kovu is confused again because all he thinks about is training but Kiaras like screw training lets just have some fun and he loves it, even when the rhinos are chasing them he’s got the biggest grin on his face. Their awkward nose touch after the rhino chase was so sweet. I like the scene after when they’re looking at the stars, Kiara points out a baby rabbit and Kovu immediately picks out an image of violence showing a clear comparison of their worlds. What I love most and I’m most surprised about, Kiara never believes that Kovu was behind the ambush. Most stories like this result in the character being misunderstood so everyone turns from them but Kiara doesn’t.

The Lion Guard

Ok so I realise this was made with little kids in mind but its the kind of show that will be dumbed down. I remember being excited when they announced the film, I watched about 2 minutes then gave up. The lazy animation style was too unbearable, even if it was made for kids if they at least tried to stick to the original animation style I would have been happy to watch, well only if they kept the character’s personalities too. I mean no don’t worry about following the much beloved source material just make these wonderful characters into cardboard cutouts I’m sure that won’t backfire in any way.

I don’t watch the show but I sometimes view clips on Youtube. I watched one where Simba is stung by a scorpion and faints. Nala cries his name once and thats it for Nala. For the rest of the scene she’s sat gazing down at Simba as if he’s dead already and she doesn’t move at all its like they’ve replaced her with a cardboard version for the rest of the scene. Kions the only one who’s trying to get a response out of Simba I mean yeah he’s the main character of the Lion Guard but Nala is SIMBAS MATE, she should be frantic nudging him, speaking to him, asking Rafiki if he’ll be ok but no just have her sit mutely in the background because only Kion matters. What is the point of having these characters if you’re just going to ignore them.

This is possibly the worst thing about watching something animated. In live action shows there is always something happening in the background because its real life but in animation it only happens if the animator can be bothered to do anything more than the initial plot point.

I know this was quite biased but this is just how I feel especially since it baffles me that they decided to do something more with Lion King so forced a character who didn’t exist before into the story since Kion can’t possibly be a part of Simbas Pride when they could have just continued with Kovu and Kiara (pretty sure EVERYONE wanted that to happen, its like Spyro, Cynder and Skylanders all over again). Isn’t that the point of the Circle of Life, they could do lion king movies forever and go on for generations and generations if they wanted to.

This was also partially inspired after reading Savu0211′s comics again on deviantart https://savu0211.deviantart.com/, I would highly recommend them to any lion king fan, just note Savu is german and his english and grammar isn’t perfect but you can usually figure out what he’s trying to say.

#the lion king #simbas pride #lion guard #disney #kiara x kovu

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