#step aside crastle

[spicygambles]

I think...

After a prolonged period of rut

Ren would come out the other side a little bit tender, a lil bit unsure.

Mumbo reassures him.

Inspired by Anon's King Ren ideas from the ask box.

---

It was... done.

Finished..

The crown has fallen and the crastle lays dark.

But Ren is here, climbing its steps as if drawn to its darkness like a strange reverse moth...

The prose is gone from his throat. But he isn't worried, it'll be back soon enough.

He counts his steps, twice over to account for his normal leg length, and walks through the crastle halls with purpose. Nevermind the fact that he has no earthly idea where he's going or that he doesn't recognize which part of the castle he was currently in, he was being led somewhere by hazy memories of the past few weeks and something else thrumming underneath his skin.

Deeper and deeper still and the feeling blooms and twists. He's sure it's near now, whatever it was, and the answer presents itself as an ornate wooden door.

His hand makes contact with the door handle and he is immediately overwhelmed.

He pushes the door open, his heart nearly beating out of his chest and he is greeted by a cold and dark room. What little light, radiating from the dim soul lamps dotted around it, was being caught by numerous diamond pendants hanging from the ceiling, highlighting their beautiful designs.

In the middle of the room is a bed.

Large, extravagant, and plush. It had Bdubs' influence painted lovingly all over it. Ren's sure that it must've taken the man weeks to make at least. As he admired the bed's expert craftsmanship, he noticed a lump in the middle of it.

The sheets shift as the lump turns over. Ren zeroes in on the steady rise and fall of it and a rush of memories nearly sweeps him off his feet.

He tiptoed towards the bed, his heart still beating up a storm, and a familiar electric taste in the air that made him lick his lips.

A shock of black hair and a peaceful sleeping face. There's something… stirring in him, made worse by flashes of the past, of skin and warmth and pleasure, the crescendo of Mumbo's voice as he-

"Ren?"

He froze, his hand hovering centimetres away from the redstoner's face. He didn't even realize that he was moving. He looks at his hand and he gets the weirdest sense of déjà vu, but it's wrong it's wrong his hands are too small it's wro-

"oh! Ren!" the redstoner's fingers lace with his and he gets pulled up into the bed. With a staggering display of dizzying acrobatics he gets bundled up with Mumbo, full body pressed against his, warm and cozy underneath the colorful blankets. "you're back"

Ren's voice gets caught in his throat as he finds himself surrounded by Mumbo's scent. He takes a deep breath, maybe a couple, he drowns himself in the redstoner's warmth and nuzzles into his throat.

There was a flash of something metallic that prickled at the back of Ren's neck. He opens his eyes, finds Mumbo naked pressed against him, but before he can digest the situation he sees a bitemark on Mumbo's shoulder.

He picks up the other scents in the room, faint traces of the court, Bdubs fairly recently, but there was one more aside from Mumbo, the strongest one in the room and seemingly blanketing Mumbo himself.

It was his scent, only… stronger and more bitter, something that only happens when he's in a rut, a time when he's not entirely himself, and it hits him.

The reason why his memories have been blurry.

He shakes in Mumbo's arm, breathes coming out in short puffs. He knows how much of a handful he can get whenever he gets in a rut, how uncontrollable and unpredictable, he's afraid he's done something unforgivable. Did he kidnap Mumbo? What if he didn't want to be here? What if-

Mumbo gently shushes him, holding him tighter and running fingers through his hair.

"did I-... did I hurt you?" Ren asked, voice small, clutching Mumbo as if afraid he'll disappear.

"no, not at all" Mumbo replied soothingly "you were very kind to me, gave me gifts"

"but I- I bit you and-" Ren stutters, a flash of memory and he remembers that he's done a lot more than bite Mumbo.

"I don't mind" Mumbo interjected before Ren could spiral down into despair. "You were here earlier you know, before the whole vault penetration event"

"please don't tell me that's what I called it" Ren pleaded but the glimmer in Mumbo's eyes told him all that he needed to know.

"Cleo called you inexcusably horny" he answered. Ren cries out, in a more light-hearted anguish this time and stifles his groan into Mumbo's chest.

He feels himself calm down considerably in Mumbo's arms, listening to his steady heartbeat. His memories were slowly coming back to him, bit by bit.

But not fast enough for his liking.

"... what did I do… earlier?" he asked, feeling his heartbeat slowly start to speed up again. This time however, it was a more positive anticipation that did him in. Mumbo laughed softly.

"you took care of me" Mumbo smiles softly, he sees Ren looking up at him earnestly and chuckles "what, do you want the play by play?" he teased. Ren damn near swooned, feeling the blood rush to his face. He nods slowly.

"show me?"

The air… shifts.

Mumbo rolls them both over and pins Ren into the bed. There's a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down Ren's spine.

Ren… gulps. Once again made aware of how naked Mumbo was underneath the blankets, still pressed up against him.

"I'd love to"

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

hooray for open ask box! how about Martyn, or Etho, or Ren seeing Skizz’s ghost on the altar?

hell yeah i love writing about Skizz, even in death :D

cw blood, dead body

…

Less than a day after Skizz’s abrupt death, Martyn returns to the crastle alone, with a sombre mission. His stomach drops when he sees Skizz’s body hanging upside down over the ramparts, exactly where it fell the moment Skizz died. It’s horrifying to see the blood still dripping down the walls of the crastle, the gaping wound in his chest clearly visible.

An arrow shoots into the ground at his feet just in front of the drawbridge, causing him to stop.

“What business do you have here, Red Army scum?” snarls Bdubs’s voice.

Martyn carefully lays his sword and shield on the ground, before standing back up with his hands raised to show he’s no longer armed. “I come in peace and I come alone.”

A pause follows this.

Martyn looks up and finds Bdubs’s face just visible through a slit window. Another face can be seen through the slit window just to the left but this one is less visible, so Martyn can’t identify who it is. He suspects it might be Impulse.

“What do you want?” Bdubs demands, though his voice is less hostile than before.

“All I want is to retrieve Skizzle’s body so we can bury him.”

Another pause.

This time, a different voice comes from the castle: “His body stays here.”

“Scott-,” Martyn begins.

“No, I’m not budging.” Scott’s voice is full of grief and anger. “He killed my husband and my friend. I want his body displayed exactly where it is. You’re lucky Grian and Bdubs talked me out of slicing his head off and displaying it on a stake.”

Nausea rises in Martyn’s throat at the grisly image. “Please,” he says, almost begging. “He died in battle just like Timmy and Cleo; he deserves a proper burial. We… We need to say goodbye to him.”

“Do it here,” Scott snarls, “cuz I’m not budging.”

Bdubs’s face disappears from the slit window, but his voice is still just about audible to Martyn on the ground. “Scott, I think we should give them Skizz’s body.”

“What?!” Scott’s voice snaps back. “Why would you even consider that?! Don’t you care that he murdered your best friend?!”

“Yes, but I’m not thinking of Skizz,” responds Bdubs. “I’m thinking of Cleo. She’s been avenged already, Scott. Jimmy’s been avenged. Do you really think either of them would want us to deny him being laid to rest, despite everything he did? What’s the purpose of that? Skizz is dead, Scott, and seeing his body on display is only going to remind us of our losses every time we look at it. In order to start healing, you gotta let go of your anger.”

Bdubs’s voice cracks and he says something else that Martyn can’t quite hear.

Martyn waits anxiously, wondering what will happen. He’s half expecting Scott to just shoot him there and then, or at the very least destroy Skizz’s body out of bitterness and anger.

But eventually, the door to the crastle opens and Bdubs appears, holding a crossbow at his side. “You can come in and get it,” he says. “Tango will help you take it back to Dogwarts.”

Martyn lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

As he crosses the drawbridge, Bdubs gives him an odd look. “You’re really okay with walking into the enemy base on your own with no weapons? What if this was a trap and we just killed you right here?”

“I did consider that possibility,” Martyn admits. “But I decided that my mission is more important.”

Bdubs nods slowly. “Okay. Fair enough.”

Martyn follows Bdubs up to the first floor, where Tango is already starting to pull Skizz’s body inside. Now that he’s closer, Martyn can see that Skizz’s eyes are still open, so he kneels beside his body and gently closes them.

“We can use one of the coffins outside to transport him,” says Tango, his voice low and serious. “And you can keep it to bury him in.”

“Thank you,” says Martyn. “After we bury him, you’re welcome to visit his grave whenever you wish.”

“What about me?” Impulse asks quietly, standing on the upper staircase.

Martyn turns and looks him dead in the eye. “Like I said. Tango, you’re welcome to visit anytime.”

Impulse blanches as Tango nods gratefully.

…

It takes the two of them less than ten minutes to carry the coffin to Dogwarts. As they get close to its walls, Etho and Ren dash out to meet them.

Etho takes the burden from Tango, who steps aside to a safe distance, keeping a wary eye on Ren.

“Thank you for returning Skizzle to us,” Ren says, all hints of his former fake accent and overly dramatic tone gone.

“Of course. I hated seeing him left up there like that.”

“I know you can’t give anything away but can I just ask… how’s… how’s Impulse?” Etho asks hesitantly.

Tango briefly makes eye contact with him but has to look away. “I wouldn’t hold out any hope that he can be saved if I were you. He wasn’t just there when Skizz died; he watched him die and did nothing to help or comfort him. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Oh my god…” Ren breathes out, suppressing a shudder. “How did this happen, Tango? What turned him into such a monster?”

“Trust me, Ren…” Tango turns to face Ren, a sombre expression on his face. “...I wish I knew. Anyway, I’m gonna head back now. Give him a good sendoff.”

“We will,” promises Ren. “Thank you.”

Etho and Martyn carry the coffin into Dogwarts and to the site that they have already picked and prepared for the burial. All three of them lower the coffin into the freshly dug grave and then kneel down beside it: Etho to the left, Martyn to the right, and Ren directly in front.

“Today, we celebrate the life of our good friend and loyal ally Skizzleman,” Ren begins. “Right from the start, even before he fought for us in battle, he proved himself a dedicated friend to Renchanting. He provided me with shelter when I was nothing but a lowly travelling merchant. His leather made the book that created the first enchantment table we ever used. And his cobblestone helped build the walls of Dogwarts that still stand to this day. He took care of us, he fought for us, he killed for us, and in the end, he died for us.” He addresses the coffin directly. “Thank you, Skizzle. For everything.”

He clears his throat. “Does- Does anyone else have anything they want to say?”

Etho nods and gently tosses the allium he’s holding onto the coffin. “Nothing special, just… Thank you, Skizz. For always being there for me.”

“I have some things to say,” says Martyn quietly. “I honestly didn’t think much of Skizz at first. I thought he was a nice guy but not someone I could see myself even being friends with. But he became so much more than that. We shared the same drive, the same passion and commitment to our convictions. When the two of us were out there fighting, it was like we’d known each other for years. But most importantly, he would always put his life before others, even mine, and even after he turned red. He was fun to be around and he always made me laugh.” His voice cracks. “I’ll miss you, Skizz.”

Twirling the tulip he brought from outside, he drops it into the grave, on top of Etho’s allium.

Ren wordlessly starts to scoop dirt over the coffin, and Etho and Martyn join him. Finally, once the coffin is properly covered, Ren plants his flower - a poppy salvaged from Skizz’s destroyed home, over the top of it and sits back.

After a moment, he starts to sing softly: “Fill to me the parting glass, and drink a health whate'er befalls. And gently rise and softly call: good night and joy be to you all. But since it fell unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not, I gently rise and softly call: good night and joy be to you all.” (this song is The Parting Glass, sung by The High Kings)

This breaks the dam. Martyn hurriedly rises to his feet and flees towards the altar, tears falling freely from his eyes. He drops to his hands and knees in the centre of the stone platform, hanging his head and crying openly.

He hasn’t cried like this in a very VERY long time. It’s just so unfair to him that Skizz, one of the kindest people he knows, is gone so soon from the server. There’s so much he wishes he could have said back there. How he blames himself for not stopping Skizz from charging in there, how much he dreams of slaughtering Grian for taking Skizz away from them, how he wishes it was him who died instead. But he couldn’t manage it.

A chill suddenly runs down his spine, causing him to involuntarily look up.

His heart skips a beat.

Standing a few blocks away on the altar is the ghostly image of Skizzleman, back to normal except for a slight magenta tinge to him. He’s smiling kindly down at Martyn, his eyes sparking with a kind of energy that he hasn’t had for a long time.

He holds out his hand to Martyn, who hesitantly reaches for it. Despite not being able to touch it, something helps Martyn to his feet, some kind of invisible energy.

Martyn gazes into Skizz’s face and manages a smile. “Goodbye, Skizz,” he whispers. “Good luck.”

The words “you too” echo in Martyn’s ears, not spoken by anything of this world.

“Martyn,” calls Ren’s voice. “Are you coming?”

Martyn automatically turns to look at Ren. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

When he looks back, he’s alone on the altar.