#the chieftain is very confident and very wrong

[gwaedhannen]

Maedhros & Maglor Week day 2: Trust/Distrust

Double drabble. Warning for discussion of canon-typical treatment of escaped thralls.

One alchemist, mixing a warming draught, says: “You can tell by the eyes. Look closely, when he wakes. If they are the eyes of a dead thing, he is already gone.” One weaver, dying yarn the yellow of Arien’s hair, says: “Their memories give it away. They cannot recall details, will mix names, will refuse to describe their torment.” One fisher, returning from the lake empty-handed, says: “They cannot last long without revealing themselves. If they haven’t tried to gut or strangle anyone within a sennight, they are safe.” One chieftain, scowling over a map of the Noldor’s encampments, says: “They are already gone. You cannot see it, you cannot prove it, you can only wait until the knife is in your ribs and the gates are unbarred. You do not make such a mistake a second time. None return from Angband.”

So the Mithrim say. So here Maglor waits, blade in hand. He will allow none other to hold this vigil, has bartered knowledge from Artanis of the songs of wakefulness improvised on the Ice in exchange for his best harp. It is an easy task for the regent-king. After all, he has already condemned Maitimo to death once.

[shiny-jr]

pardon my late message i've been letting letting the current damnation chapters sink in the past couple of days after finally taking the quiz (im am still waiting with baited breath but like in a chill way for the rest) but HOLY. MOLY.

i did indeed notice that the MC's have different morality stances, and they match their crimes (granted im still trying to figure out which one did what. cuz rn i got stuck on iago coming fraud or tax evasion, even though theyre super down with murder, but like raven is WAY more down to murder somebody. im just nit paying enough attention to figure it out, really. im having too much fun vibin)

2 THE WAY THE CHARACTERS MAY NOT START OUT ENTIRELY YANDERE FOR THE MC AND INSTEAD DEVELOP THE OBSESSION FOR THEM LATER ON 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌😭😭😭😭😭 BRILLIANTBRILLIANTBRILLIANT. ok so i got heartslabyul on my first attempt so it wasnt as like "obvious" even though trey and cater are both instantly "shocked" i was like "that could just be bc our character is weird it doesnt necessarily mean they yandere switch has been flipped pshaw! 🤭" BUT THEN eventually i got to pomfiore and epel confirmed it when he was like "ive been imagining things i never did before!" and i was like "oh snap! WAIT is *THIS* part of the punishment? like not JUST being sent to another world that is based on a story, but specifically a YANDERE DEATH TRAP? 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯"

cuz like, sure, the MC is doing what they can to survive but depending on which one theyre fine to just vibe and let the story take its course if theyve got a good chance to survive not doing anything special. but then the story always gets WEIRD, RIGHT?! stuff always goes wrong! was that part of the vision? or am i going conspiracy crazy?

anyway AMAZING WORK. also you really fed the vil simps on that one story. i thought i was over him and content to be like rook and admire from afar but that SCENE with his hands wrapped around the retainer 🥵 i darn near short-circuited. HOW DARE YOU! (please continue 😉)

its hard to choose a favorite story in this series and i dont want to speak too soon before theyre all out. but i do have favorite bits in each of them.

and i just love the endings to them all. i love the bittersweet nature of all the endings. like none, of them are really romantic in a comforting way (duh its a yandere story) but they do vary in romance level. like by far i think riddle's azul's and vil's are the most romantic while leona and jamil are quite cold and calculating or in jamil's case mostly possessive and manipulative on the surface. it's VERY interesting.

and also bc im silly and you brought up the yandere-ness of the other characters, i start to wonder what happens next in these stories (im not asking for sequels. oh heavens no! never! unless you wanted to, but im mostly just brainstorming character relationships and potential conflicts). like in the savannaclaw story, ruggie and jack are also glued to the MC but not in a really romantic way? ruggie has that "i want to be your #2/by your side forever" which could go either way, but to me initially reads as "jack was pushing his way into MY spot and i want to guarantee he cant have it" rather than a "one day i'll deserve to be by your side romantically and for now i want to ensure i'll always have that opportunity by being next to you and a priority of yours" and then comes leona's proposal at the end, and i was thinking "uhhh but mc is by your side as consort, then ruggie gets pushed out of his spot in favor of the husband taking over. even though ruggie could still be an advisor and confidant, its still like 'move over dude theres another taking priority over you" and then that gets me wondering "what would happen if MC turned down leona? what kinda havoc would he wreak if any? does that put the village in jeopardy if he gets pissed off? what if they accept and they're STILL screwed bc he stops paying attention to the village after he gets the throne? and then the chieftain is taken into the palace and away from the village and has no way back and theyre left to basically flounder without them?"

also i really like how you end your stories with pseudo-cliffhangers? i mean they are but also the plot is mostly resolved and whatever major things that needed to happen happened. and its just the character resolutions and epilogues you dont see. its entertaining. like i said, i like to imagine what happens next and you really leave some stuff open for that.

anyway! thank you so much for sharing your stories!

Oh, for the crimes, just look at one of the questions which I believe asks what you (the quiz taker/MC) committed. Those are currently five of the seven crimes I've listed before, and each MC has committed at least ONE of them. But, they could've always committed more too.

On that other topic, of characters going yandere, one thing I hate is when reading a story and for some reason the characters are already obsessed with the MC but for absolutely no apparent reason. And me personally, I enjoy a bit of build up, which is why I try to implement some in my writing. Which can be a bit hard to do within forty pages when all these other things are happening, but I manage for the most part.

[unblemisheddesertflower]

[ 🧬 ] how important is family to your muse? / buliara

The Little Things

Half of Buliara's life is dedication to her nation, the other half is dedication to her family. She's the eldest of three, which is quite a big family in their culture, and even though she and her sisters had a falling out when they were teenagers, she keeps tabs on their travels. She hopes one day to reunite the family in Gerudo Town, though those hopes grow slimmer every year. For years, she wanted to visit her sisters and make an appeal to them to come home, but she was always too busy managing the capital and assisting Riju.  With the Calamity defeated, she'd hoped to finally reunite her family, but no sooner had she made preparations to leave than the sandstorms kicked up and trouble was once again brewing in Hyrule.

Though family is important to her, she never had the chance to have a daughter of her own. Some of this was due to the Calamity, as she was promoted through the ranks of the guard too quickly to have time for herself, and some was simply not giving it thought until it was far too late for her to raise a child. Riju's mother passed away only a few years after Buliara became general, so the combination of the rising Calamity and raising their next chieftain made her own children a near impossibility. With that said, she considers Riju her daughter as much as she can without holding blood or ritual ties. She was never officially named as Riju's Godmother, a role taken very seriously in Gerudo culture, but as she was the General and RIju's mother didn't leave behind an appointed guardian for her daughter, she took over in her stead. She is consistently caught between pride in how strong Riju has become in her abilities and her confidence to govern and guilt that she wasn't allowed to be a child for most of her young life.

Though she separates her dedication to her family and country, they're really the same driving force. She keeps the country safe because her family lives in its borders, but most of her family isn't related to her by blood. More so dedication to their craft, long-lasting friendships, and promises to protect each other should things go wrong in the field.

[shera-dnd]

Are you ready for some nuts? some dolts? some bees even?

Because this chapter has a lot of all of those

Also Lady Xiao Long is 6′6, because everyone in this is already over the top and larger than life, so I just had to go a little extra with my girl

anyway link above, fic bellow. Let’s get to it!

Weiss had to admit, Lady Blake was absolutely right, this really was the best meal she’d had in ages. Of course this was only in small part thanks to the fish, and in great part thanks to the company she now shared. Though it would be a long shot to consider any of these people her friends, it was certainly a far more amicable setting than any meal she’d had in at least a decade.

Lady Polendina was a ray of sunshine personified, and was happy to make Weiss feel welcome. Lady Blake had been nothing but courteous with her since the moment they spoke their oaths to each other, and Lady Ilia…

Lady Ilia may still very clearly detest Weiss with all her heart, but she had done something that she would not soon forget. She had given Weiss a gift, the first gift born of genuine kindness she had received since the day her grandfather passed away.

Now that gift was draped over Weiss’s shoulders, warming her heart as well as her body.

Maidens save her, she felt so foolish to ever even think of something so sappy. Perhaps it was for the best that she followed Lady Blake’s example, and focused on her grilled fish right now.

Unfortunately a growing commotion kept her from enjoying this meal any further.

The crowd of festival goers parted and scurried away as six figures made their way towards them.

The first figure was a blond woman who stood a full head taller than the rest of the crowd, her face was hidden behind a mask painted in the semblance of a bear, her muscular arms adorned with a collection of iron bangles. From her side hung the largest blade Weiss had ever seen, and she had no doubt that if anyone could ever swing a weapon like that, it would be this mountain of a woman.

Behind her followed an equally fearsome woman; though older, and not as large as the first one, she easily compensated for it with her demeanor, and an intense glare that could cut through a man’s resolve like a blade through flesh.

Following those two came three more figures, each of them carrying war scythes and covered by long hooded cloaks. The first was a younger woman in red, then an older one in white, and finally a man in grey.

The last one to approach was an older blond man whose calm smile, and sunny disposition, would mark as the least threatening of the bunch...were it not for the fact he was accompanied by a massive hunting hound.

Whoever these people were, they were nothing short of terrifying.

Weiss’s hand reached for the hilt of her sword, not to draw on the sinister group, but simply for the comfort it offered. Lady Polendina on the other hand seemed to need no such comforts, for she marched up to the group with confidence and greeted them with her usual cheer.

“Salutations! You must be the envoys from the Branwen Clan.”

The figures stopped, the girl in red peeked from under her hood in expectation, but did not move yet, awaiting for her leader to act first. That titan of a woman walked up to Lady Polendina, towering over the knight as she took off her mask.

Behind it was a cheerful expression that could almost match that of the little knight she talked to.

��Lady Polendina, I presume,” she greeted with a voice that matched her size. Though the woman was clearly mistrali, she spoke in perfect atlesian, “it’s good to finally meet the woman my sister has spoken so highly of.”

The girl in red shifted nervously and pleaded something in mistrali. Whatever she said seemed to amuse the rest of the envoys.

“And it’s good to finally meet my dear Rose’s family, Lady Xiao Long,” she replied. Quite a lot of emotion placed in the nickname, more than enough for Weiss to notice.

Done with waiting, the girl in red rushed to Xiao Long’s side. Her cloak billowed as she ran, revealing under it silver armor with the heraldry of the Knights of the Spring Maiden. Looking more attentively, it was clear that all but Lady Xiao Long carried that crest.

“Yang, must we do this here and now?” The young knight asked, “could we at least set up camp before you embarrass me further?”

Lady Xiao Long said something in mistrali that had earned her a furious glare from the young knight. They conversed in the language for a few moments before the larger woman let out a loud laugh.

“Very well, Ruby, we’ll be on our way,” she declared, before turning to face Lady Polendina once again, “but before I leave, Lady Polendina. I’ve heard that a tournament has already taken place in our absence.”

“Indeed it has,” the knight replied, “it was a simple warm up, but it was quite thrilling. I was actually just sharing a meal with the winner of that tournament.”

That seemed to pique Lady Xiao Long’s interest tremendously.

“And who would this mighty victor be?”

“That would be me,” Lady Blake answered, putting down her food and joining Lady Polendina’s side.

“Lady Xiao Long, this is Lady Blake of the Knights of the Fall Maiden,” Lady Polendina gladly introduced, “Lady Blake, this is Yang Xiao Long, chieftain of the Branwen Clan.”

“Your fame precedes you, Lady Blake, it is an honor to meet you,” the chieftain greeted, taking Lady Blake’s hand gently and bowing before her. Lady Ilia gagged at the sight, “and it would be a greater honor still to see the Black Knight in action.”

“Would you be inviting me to a sparring match, Lady Xiao Long?” She asked, sounding profoundly amused by this turn of events.

“I would indeed,” she replied, a smirk forming on her face, “if you would indulge me.”

“I believe I will,” Lady Blake replied with a smirk of her own, “though perhaps it would be best if we wait until you and your family are fully settled in. Besides, I’m in the middle of enjoying a nice meal with my companions.”

“Then let me keep you no longer,” she answered, before turning back to her companions and calling out their orders in mistrali. She turned and spoke to Lady Blake one last time, “I look forward to seeing you again, my lady.”

And with that they departed.

Lady Ilia shivered and suppressed another gag.

“Are you well?” Weiss asked.

“Not if I am to see those two acting like this again,” she replied.

“I do not see what’s so wrong with their conversation.”

“Of course you don’t,” was Ilia’s only response.

Weiss rolled her eyes and returned to her food. It was obvious that she would be getting nothing more from her on this topic. And, unlike Lady Ilia, she was genuinely happy that their companion seemed to be making such fast friends in the Branwens. This was a celebration of peace and union between the kingdoms after all.

The two of them were silent for the rest of their meal. Ilia quietly seething at Blake, while Weiss was simply lost in thought. Though they walked the grounds a little longer after that, they soon enough found themselves being dragged along to the Branwen clan’s tents. Lady Blake eager to have her match and Lady Polendina eager to spend more time with her…friend.

Even though it had been hardly more than an hour since they last spoke with Lady Xiao Long, the Branwens had already properly set up camp and had even made a small fenced area for them to spar in.

This makeshift arena was currently occupied by Lady Xiao Long herself, standing mighty and proud, face once more covered by her terrifying mask. In one hand she held her colossal sword, in the other she held a fully armored knight by his throat.

Seeming to finally notice her visitors, she smiled before slamming the man to the ground with ease.

“Do you admit defeat?” She asked, the knight could only nod, prompting the chieftain to yank them up once again, “thank you for this fantastic warm up!”

She pulled them into a rib crushing hug before unceremoniously dropping them. The knight bowed before her, and excused themself away from what Weiss assumed was a humiliating defeat.

“Lady Blake,” Lady Xiao Long cheerfully greeted, “I’m glad to see you here so soon.”

“I could not bring myself to keep you waiting,” Lady Blake replied, “though I must say I’m surprised you have set up camp so quickly.”

“My people are nomads, my lady,” she explained, “if there is one thing we’re good at it is making camp.”

“Impressive.”

“Lady Xiao Long, if I may,” Lady Polendina interjected.

“You wish to know the whereabouts of my sister, do you not?” she asked, and Lady Polendina nodded, “she’s off with our mothers and uncle. As Knights of the Spring Maiden they’re expected to greet your Knight Commander as soon as we were done setting up. So for now it is only me, and my father, here at camp.”

“Of course,” Lady Polendina replied, mildly disappointed, “may I wait here for my dear Rose’s return?”

“Anything for Ruby’s beloved little Firefly,” Lady Xiao Long chuckled, “please make yourself comfortable.”

Weiss had her suspicions, but that made it certainly clear that those two were much more than close friends. As happy as she was for Lady Polendina, she simply couldn’t help but be surprised by the openness with which they discussed this topic. Though Lady Xiao Long had also admitted to having two mothers and a father, such things must be considerably more common among the people of Mistral.

“Now if you’ll indulge me my lady,” she once more turned to face Lady Blake and gestured towards the arena behind her, “I would be delighted to spar with you”

Lady Blake gave her host a smile and readied herself. She put on her horned helmet, drew her blades and walked with Lady Xiao Long towards the arena. Her black armor gave her a sinister air matched only by the chieftain herself.

The battle began and Weiss quickly understood that had she been in Lady Blake’s position, she would have been defeated already. Though Yang Xiao Long may have looked brutish and simple, her form and fighting style was anything but. Every swing of the blade was calculated, every opening pressured, and every mistake punished. She fought not only with her blade but her entire body, throwing in punches and kicks to catch her opponent off guard.

Meanwhile Lady Blake proved her incredible skill once more. She rushed in close, keeping the chieftain from effectively using her blade, adapting as fast she could to the woman’s unconventional strategies, compensating for the difference in their physical strength with an unmatched fierceness.

Had this been one of the storybooks from Weiss’s childhood, these would be monstrous villains, engaging in a bloody battle to the death from which the only good ending would be their mutually assured destruction.

For once reality was far kinder than fiction.

Lady Xiao Long laughed as the fight dragged on, not out of malice nor bloodlust, but out of sheer, raucous joy. Her hand finally connected with one of Lady Blake’s horns and she slammed her down with force, bringing her greatsword down by the knight’s head… only to find a sword pressed against her stomach.

There was a moment of silence, the two of them looking at each other through mask and helmet, their ragged breaths the only sound around them. Until Lady Polendina broke the silence with her cheer.

“Sensational!” She nearly jumped as she said the word, “never have I seen a fight like this before. Truly you two simply must join the tournament.”

The two combatants laughed as they began to stand up. Faces once more revealed as they spoke.

“Lady Blake of the Knights of the Fall Maiden,” the chieftain began, pride in her voice, “I declare you victorious!”

“I’m flattered, Lady Xiao Long,” she replied, “but this was a tie at best.”

Lady Xiao Long smiled, but shook her head.

“Nay, my lady,” she spoke, taking Lady Blake’s hand once more, “sparring with you was already a great victory for me, so it is only fair that I grant you this one.”

Lady Ilia gagged once more.

“If you insist,” Lady Blake replied, rolling her eyes in playful annoyance, “though I’ll hardly be able to brag about a victory granted through kindness.”

“Nonsense,” was the chieftain’s reply, “you’ve more than earned your bragging rights.”

“Maybe so,” she countered, “still I can’t help but feel like a rematch is in order. Perhaps I should return soon and earn this victory properly.”

“Then I look forward to when our blades meet next.”

At that Lady Ilia made an outraged noise that Weiss couldn’t quite describe. Weiss’s previous annoyance at these senseless responses revived once more.

“Why must you react so crassly!” Weiss demanded.

“Is it not clear to you what they’re doing?” Lady Ilia asked back.

Weiss looked at her in confusion, “being polite to one another?”

“What you do is polite, Sch--...my lady,” she cleared her throat, catching herself just in time, “what they’re engaging in is flirtation.”

Weiss looked back at them, only now seeming to catch the lingering gazes, the playful smiles, the tone in their voice.

“Oh.”

[meridias-multimuse]

My headcanon for the historical timeline regarding the Branwen tribe, particularly as it relates to Raven’s rule is finally on paper.  It’s long as shit, so it’s going under a read more.

Prior to the twins being sent to Beacon, leadership in the tribe was very decentralized.  While the tribe’s matriarch/patriarch had a considerable amount of influence over tribal politics, in the end most decisions were made by a tribal council.

This changed while the twins were off at Beacon.  A tribal warrior who proved to be charismatic and a complete sociopath managed to win the support of enough tribesfolk that they were able to give themselves one hell of a Klingon promotion.  The tribal council is dissolved and the Branwen tribe becomes an autocracy under its chieftain.

The Branwen tribe changes dramatically under this new leadership, and what was once a minor nuisance to the people of Anima becomes a serious threat to everyone not living in one of the major cities.  More sustainable forms of sustenance such as agriculture, foraging, and scavenging are given over to violent raiding.

At the point when Raven returns, the situation has become dire enough that the Kingdom of Mistral has deployed Huntsfolk to begin counter-operations against the Branwen tribe.  Countless of the tribe’s best warriors have already been killed or captured at this point.

Knowing that the tribe is facing extinction, Raven begins quietly seeding dissent in the tribe’s ranks.  At the same time, she begins covertly drip-feeding information regarding the chieftain to the Mistral authorities.  When a team of Huntsfolk from Haven finally manages to corner the chieftain, Raven and the rest of the tribe are nowhere to be found.  Certain events follow.  Raven becomes the new chieftain of the Branwen tribe.

Raven’s early rule is a difficult one.  Her attempts to steer the tribe back to being a relatively peaceful entity are met with solid resistance.  Her first apprentice -- the previous Spring Maiden -- is assassinated during this period.  The conspirators are violently purged, and the tone is set for the remainder of Raven’s rule: senseless violence would be repaid in kind.

Following the purge, Raven sets about reforming the Branwen tribe.  If peace is not yet an option, she will at least minimize the violence.  Rather than supporting itself through raiding, the Branwen tribe establishes what amounts to a protection racket: towns and villages within the tribe’s territory are expected to pay a certain percentage of their wealth each month in protection fees.  Missing a payment results in the tribe coming to collect their cut (with interest) directly.

During this period, a young woman of the tribe named Vernal distinguishes herself as somebody who can get things done according to orders and with a minimum of fuss.  Raven appoints Vernal her new apprentice.

After the fall of Beacon, times become harder for everyone and many towns begin openly refusing to pay their protection fees.  The village of Shion attacks the Branwen tribe’s agents when they show up to collect the monthly tribute.  When these agents fail to return, Raven travels to Shion in order to intimidate them back into compliance using her power over the weather.

While Raven is able to successfully intimidate the town of Shion back into compliance, her intimidation is so effective that it draws the Grimm to Shion after her departure.  Already weakened and lacking the assistance of Huntsfolk, Shion is unable to repel the Grimm, resulting in the town’s destruction.

This brings the history of the Branwen tribe to the point where Raven meets with Qrow in Higanbana.  Events proceed in accordance with show canon up until Cinder’s arrival.

At this time, Raven recognizes that she is in a difficult position.  She concocts a plan to follow Cinder into Haven’s vault and strike Cinder down when her guard is lowered.  By removing Salem’s personal Maiden from the board and securing the Lamp for herself, Raven intends to gain a bargaining chip that will secure the tribe’s safety in the future.

It’s a stupid plan, but Raven rolls with it anyways.

Things go horribly wrong at Haven.  Raven doesn’t anticipate Ruby, Yang, and company arriving to try and stop Cinder, she doesn’t anticipate Ruby cracking her confidence with her best Summer Rose impression, and she doesn’t anticipate Cinder using her portal to impale Weiss with a projectile attack.  (Seriously, Cinder aimed that shot without being able to see her target.  That’s a level of skill Raven didn’t think Cinder had.)

Most of all, she didn’t anticipate Yang confronting her in the vault.  Yang found the cracks that Ruby had left in Raven’s confidence and hammered on them until Raven’s confidence completely shattered.  Wounded and demoralized, Raven fled Haven to lick her wounds and rethink her life choices.

By the time Raven is recovered enough to try and reconnect with her tribe, she discovers that the worst case scenario has already played out: without a central authority to unify the various factions within the tribe, the order to pack up and relocate had resulted in each of these factions simply going their own way, taking a chunk of the tribe with them as they went.

Lacking either the will or the means to try and reunify the tribe, Raven simply accepted the truth: that the Branwen tribe had faded into the pages of history.

[spectraspecs-writes]

Kashyyyk - Chapter 77

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 76. Chapter 78.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

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The first thing we do is stop by Jolee’s house for his bag. We’ve done everything we came for down here, and I don’t plan on ever coming back. I’m really hoping we won’t get to the end of the road and find out the Star Forge was on Kashyyyk the whole time. I hope that enough that I’m not even worried about hoping for shit. It's a beautiful planet, don’t get me wrong, but I hate that I have to be drugged in order to enjoy it.

The Czerka markers and the glowing moss lead us back to the basket with Gorwooken. He’s established a little camp for himself, which implies that he’s been down here for as long as we have. That’s awfully nice that he’s been waiting for us. 

Canderous stops dead in his tracks. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” he says softly.

“What do you mean, Canderous?” Bastila asks.

“I don’t know,” he says, “But I don’t think this is going to end without bloodshed.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’d hate to have my grave marker to read “didn’t trust a Mandalorian’s instincts and died in the battle he predicted.” Optimism won’t do a damn if Canderous thinks something’s going to happen. So I pull my lightsabers from my belt, but I don’t activate them yet. If there’s an ambush planned, I don’t want to set it off early by letting them know I know.

We get close enough and Gorwooken roars at us. Never a good sign. “You! Human! Our spies say that the mad-claw you were sent to kill is on his way to Rwookrrorro right now!” You were spying on us? That’s so rude. “You should have followed the will of Chuundar! Now you will face his wrath!”

Canderous cracks his neck eagerly. “Now this is what I live for!” Guess he called it.

Two Wookiees deactivate stealth fields and fire on us with crossbows. Jolee, Bastila, and I each focus our efforts on one of the Wookiees while Canderous lays down cover fire. I end up facing Gorwooken, who wields a double bladed sword. He isn’t as strong as Freyyr, but his fighting style is far more organized. Probably because he hasn’t spent the last twenty years on the forest floor slowly going crazy. He cuts me a couple of times, but I get a few good blows to him, too. At the least, I singe his fur. At the most I’ve made some deep painful cuts to his skin. Not deep enough for a full loss of limb, but the effect of the cuts is not insignificant overall. He ends up switching his sword to his non-dominant hand, which throws off his gait and each swing is either too underpowered to matter or so overpowered that he loses his balance. He’s just not used to using that hand - it’s clear he never trained with two swords, or ambidextrously. My left hand isn’t my strongest to fight with but if I lost my right hand tomorrow I would still do all right fighting Malak or whatever the Sith threw at me. And that has nothing to do with the Force, that’s all training. A double-bladed weapon has a different weight to it, anyway, than a single weapon. It requires different techniques to use it, and when you only train half of your body to do those techniques you end up very sloppy when you try to use the other side. His defensive moves are off as well, and it doesn’t take long to deal the final blow.

Thanks to Canderous’s cover fire, the other two Wookiees don’t take very long either. We all climb into the basket and I figure out how it works, raising us up.

The energy on the Great Walkway feels different, final. We’re about to walk into something big. “Who can run the fastest?” I ask.

“I think that’s me,” Bastila says, “You feel it, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say, “I feel it. Run back to the ship, we’re going to be outnumbered and outgunned. Get some help.”

“I’ll bring them straight to Rwookrroorro.” And with that she takes off, using the Force to boost her speed.

We keep walking down the Great Walkway, before we run into a Wookiee with a sword. I really hope it’s not another on Chuundar’s side, looking for a fight. He looks like he’s waiting for us, and I think I recognize him. I think we passed him yesterday on our way down to the Shadowlands. “Well,” he says to us, “it seems you are more than I thought.” Good things? “Freyyr has come back, and told me of what you did for him.” Oh, good, he’s not here to kill us. “My fellow hunters split on what should be done. Some were loyal to Chuundar alone… we had to fight.” Oh dear. “Freyyr went to the throne room to challenge Chuundar. I will take you to him now.”

“I know the way, I can get there myself,” I say.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t allow you to proceed any other way,” he says, “This is too important. I will take you to him now.” I guess there’s no arguing with him, then.

The energy of the village is tense, like a hairpin trigger ready to go off at the smallest movement. I don’t see any female Wookiees walking around, like they’ve either personally elected to stay home or the men have required it - I don’t know enough about Wookiee culture to conclude either way. (Either that or male and female Wookiees don’t visually differ. Again, I just don’t have enough information.) The door to the Hall of the Chieftain stands open. Like they were too hurried to close it.

Chuundar isn’t happy to see me. Zaalbar just looks plain confused. “Oh, that's just great!” Chuundar exclaims sarcastically, “Everyone is here now! It's a reunion!”

I’m quickly looking over the room, trying to figure our odds. On Chuundar’s side, there are four Wookiees, himself included, and the two Czerka flanking him. They aren’t scouts or company men, either. They’re Czerka muscle. And on our side, currently, is a Mandalorian, an old Jedi Consular, me who’s been fighting off an allergy attack for the past two days, and a Wookiee who’s spent the last twenty years fighting off insanity. When the fight starts, and there will be a fight, Wookiees from the village may come in through the open door. Some will fight for Freyyr, some will fight for Chuundar. And I’m a human who, as far as they know, fights for Czerka. And that’s assuming more of them will join Freyyr than Chuundar. We are hopelessly, hilariously outgunned. 

And then there’s Zaalbar. He doesn't know what to do at this point. Chuundar’s had his ear for two days. If he’s been able to convince his people to accept slavers in their village, he’s got to be very charismatic. And Zaalbar’s been pretty unreadable as long as I’ve known him, I don’t really know his principles. He keeps to himself. So now that he’s asked to choose between father and brother, I have no idea which he’ll choose. Either way, I hope Bastila comes with help soon. She has to be on her way by now.

“Yes, son,” Freyyr says to Chuundar, “By the blade of Bacca's sword, I've come to end your treachery! No more will you sell your own people!”

“You have Bacca's blade?” Chuundar scoffs, “So what! I have the hilt, held by each true Chieftain in recent memory! Even you claimed it was all-important! We both have our ancient trinkets, so who will the people follow now?” Exactly what I’ve been wondering. “You?” Chuundar scoffs again, “You are old and weak!”

“Shut up!” Zaalbar shouts, “Both of you! This ends today!” Okay, who’s side are you on? “I… I will not see Rwookrrorro suffer anymore!” 

“What are you going to do, Zaalbar?” I ask. I support Freyyr, obviously, but it’s not my place. This isn’t my planet, these aren’t my people. If Zaalbar thinks Chuundar is better for his people, then I disagree but I can’t tell him he’s wrong.

“Rena, I…” he says slowly, “I don’t know what to do. Chuundar has been telling me things… he makes sense… I think. I don't know…”

“Do we have to fight about this?” I ask, hoping maybe we can avoid a fight, “Could you get them to talk it through?”

“Could we work together?” he asks, “It would be difficult…”

“You could convince them!” I say, “You’ve been with me long enough to figure out how to make peace like a Jedi - hell, I’ll even help if you want! Avoid slaughter on both sides!”

“Then so be it!” Zaalbar says confidently, turning back to his father and his brother, “The fighting stops here! I will not have our world destroyed beneath you two!”

Freyyr already wasted twenty years of his life not listening to his younger son, he’s not about to make that mistake twice. “Perhaps there is hope,” he says, before turning to his elder son, “What say you, Chuundar?”

Oh, I don’t like his posture there. “What do I say?” he repeats, “I still have Czerka support. I say you will die! Attack!”

I can barely pull my lightsaber out fast enough before a Wookiee comes at me with a warblade. After the fight with Gorwooken, which followed the Great Beast, which followed Freyyr, which followed two ancient droids, which followed Mandalorians, I’ve been fighting all day, and I’m running on empty. I can hardly push back hard enough.

Ow!

Goddamnit!

[emo-floof-child-writes]

The Sword of the Solstice

Chapter 7: The Curse of Loyaci.

Shoto runs out to see that man that they saw in the Ghia Forest, but he's with that man in the carriage, and a girl that Shoto hasn't seen before. She has blond hair, tied into buns on the side of her head, behind her ears. The burned man steps forward, lifting an ivory wand. “LISTEN UP!” He yells, and the villagers recoil, whimpering. “I know that the heir of Neumel has returned; have him come out, and this village will be spared.”

Shoto walks down the stone stairs, lifting his sword. “What does the Cult of Dendar want with me?” He asks. The burnt man points the ivory wand at him. “Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dabi, of the Vanguard Magic Squad, servant to Dendar the Night Serpent herself.” Shoto grunts, holding his sword to Dabi's throat. “Tell me, Snake's Servant, what is your purpose here in Reneumel? This city, nay, this village are naught anything but peaceful!”

Dabi cackles, as does the shorter girl beside him. “Dendar has plans for this place.” The girl says, with a giggle. “Hush, Himiko!” Dabi scolds, and the girl he called Himiko groans. “But I want to see this world turn red, and then ENDLESS BLACK!” She says, and Dabi groans. “We're getting to that!” Momo runs down the steps. “My lord!” She yells, pulling her greatsword out.

“Lady Momo, I can handle these two. I need you to rally the paladins.” Shoto says, and Momo grimaces. “My lord, I cannot leave your side!” Shoto sighs. Must she be so fiercely loyal? He wonders. Dabi laughs. “Oh, you cannot leave his side, huh? So you would follow him into any danger?” Shoto grunts, not liking where this is going. She nods. “Even to death, so stand back, villain!”

Dabi flicks the wand at Shoto. Shoto swings his greatsword in an attempt to knock the wand out of his hand. Dabi seemed to have been expecting that, as he dodges, and purple light shoots out from the wand. “My lord!” Momo screams, as she wraps her arms around his waist, tackling him. Dabi chuckles. “My, my. How loyal can one stupid paladin be?” He turns to Himiko.

“You know what to do.” He says, she squeals. Out of her tunic she pulls a black adamantine dagger that has jagged edges. Glowing on the blade's surface is purple runes in the Dark Elvish of Loyaci. She grins, and chanting in Dark Elvish. She holds the knife to the sky, and a large mist shoots out of the knife. The mist shoots out, going into Momo's mouth and nose. She coughs, and wheezes.

“Lady Momo!” Shoto says, as she struggles to breathe. He kneels beside her, and tries to use his spell Lay On Hands to heal her, but nothing happens. “What. Did. You. Do. To. Her?” He asks, his anger growing. “It's a poisonous mist.” Himiko says, skipping in place. “It'll destroy her from the inside out. Lots of beautiful blood!” He growls. “Fix. Her. Or face the wrath of Lathander!”

Dabi sighs. “Mm, I admit that I didn't want to use this tactic, (it's too messy), but it's the only way to get what we want.” Shoto frowns. “What is that?” He asks. Dabi pokes Shoto with his wand. “We want you.” He kicks Shoto down, who looks at Momo, who's shaking her head in between coughs and wheezes. “Why me? What could you possibly want with me?” Dabi grins. “Dendar likes your family. She chose your father for her service too.”

Shoto spits on the dirt at Dabi's feet. “I won't join you.” Just then, Ochaco, Katsuki, Eijiro, and Izuku run over. “Shoto!” Izuku says, pulling his hilt of the Solstice Sword out, and presses the button to activate it. The Solstice Sword makes sparks, but doesn't shoot out its lightblade. Himiko giggles, and points her blade to sky again, threateningly. Shoto gasps, and stands. “If you don't come with us to Loyaci, I'll poison all of these people!” She says, and Shoto bites his lip. The life of one, to save the whole village... Is there a better way? Momo is dying at my feet, as I think! Lathander, forgive me. I must do this!

“My friends, please don't stop me. I am doing this for your own good.” Shoto says, bowing his head towards Himiko and Dabi. They grin. “Light Bringer! Don't you dare—!” Shoto kneels. “Do with me as you will, leave Reneumel and my friends alone.” Dabi taps the wand to Shoto's forehead. “They will not be harmed. In fact, Himiko, release the paladin girl.” She sighs. “I wanted to see her bleed...!”

Dabi glares at her, and she sighs. “Fine.” She says, releasing the poisonous spell. Shoto sighs, as he sees her breathe normally. Ochaco helps her to her feet. “My-my lord...” She says, panting. “You cannot join them.” Shoto sighs. “Lady Momo, I leave for the good of my fallen kingdom. I must protect albeit small kingdom with every fiber in me. I ask only that you continue to care for it in my stead.”

Dabi grabs Shoto shoulder, and without another word, Shoto, Dabi, and Himiko disappear. Momo screams. “I have failed you yet again, my lord and Prince Shoto.” She bows her head in shame. Ochaco nods. “We don't even know where they went. We'll never find them...” Katsuki grunts. “Enough of that defeatist talk!” He roars, the ground shaking as he speaks. Momo and Ochaco jump.

Izuku frowns. “Well, what can we do?” He asks. Eijiro frowns, and shrugs. Katsuki groans. “Oh, come on! Surely I wasn’t the only one who heard what they said?” Everyone gives him blank looks. Katsuki laughs. “Wow! And you call me an idiot! They literally said where they were going!” Izuku gasps. “The girl, they said they were going to Loyaci!” He says, and Katsuki points to Izuku.

“Okay, Deku’s not a complete idiot.” He says, folding his arms. Momo scoffs. “Did you miss the segment on how we literally can’t go there?!” She says, with frustration. “I-I mean, it’s the Dark Realm of Loyaci! No one can enter through the mist there!” Eijiro sighs, and sits down on the steps. “Well, if we can’t get in, then it’s hopeless.” Eijiro says. Katsuki growls. “When did you idiots become quitters?!”

Ochaco sighs. “It is 162 leagues south of here! It’s like 17 and a half days away! And that’s on horseback.” Ochaco says, and Momo nods. “Indeed. We’d have to go back through the Rena Passage, and down Seana Trail, over Leronee River, and then finally go to the Forbidden Road into Loyaci! It would be a useless venture!” Katsuki shakes his head. “I know a shortcut to Loyaci.”

Eijiro frowns. “You do?” Eijiro asks. Katsuki grins. “We might even beat them to Loyaci.” He says, with confidence. Izuku pulls out his map. “Are we going off the paved roads? There is no route that is quicker than the route that Momo mentioned!” Katsuki smirks. “Not if we go through Leeno.” Momo, Izuku and Ochaco groan. “Not there...” Ochaco says. Eijiro stands. “What’s wrong with this Leeno?”

Izuku sighs. “Well, I’ve never been, but I heard that it’s a human village of cannibals and murderers.” Ochaco and Momo nod. Katsuki slaps Izuku. He stumbles back, and the other three gasp. “KATSUKI!” Ochaco scolds. “That’s downright SLANDER, MY people aren’t cannibals and murderers! They are PROUD warriors! I don’t even want to know how that rumor got out.”

Ochaco blinks. “Your people? You’re a Leenoan?” She asks. He nods. “Technically I am the Chieftain’s son.” Izuku frowns. “Oh..! I’m sorry, Kacchan..! I didn’t know!” He shrugs. “I’m used to people having a repulsed reaction to my village. But really, we are sophisticated in our own way.” Ochaco giggles. “Well, if they are any thing like you, they must be dunderheads.” Katsuki grabs hold of his warhammer.

She steps behind Momo. “Easy, big guy. I was joking.” He glares at her. “You better be. You can mock me, but you don’t mock my village.” Ochaco whimpers. “Noted.” She squeaks out. He releases his grip on his warhammer. “Um, with that out of the way... Shouldn't we get going?” Eijiro asks, looking down at the village below. Izuku nods. “Indeed. Kacchan;” Katsuki looks at him. “If you'd vouch for Leeno Village, I believe that it is the best option for us.” Izuku says.

Katsuki chuckles. “Very well.” Momo says. “Let us retrieve our horses, and make haste. I shall get you another horse, Mr. Izuku.” Izuku nods. They head back down to the stables, where Denki Kaminari the Stable Hand is talking to a female paladin, who kisses his cheek. The party assumes that she must be his paladin wife. “Mr. Kaminari!” Momo says, walking over to them.

He turns, and sighs. “Lady Yaoyorozu...” He says, and she bows her head. “I know we have just arrived, but I'm afraid we need to go again.” She says, turning to the paladin. “Lady Kyoka, as the prince has been taken, and you are my second in command, I'm afraid I will have to ask you keep an eye out for trouble here in Reneumel.” She sighs. “Very well, Lady Yaoyorozu.” Kyoka says. Momo nods. “May the Light shine upon you.” Momo says, bowing her head.

Kyoka folds her hands. “And to you, my lady.” Denki brings out their two horses, and Momo sighs. “We'll actually need a third, Mr. Kaminari, lest Mr. Izuku walk all the way south.” Denki frowns. “Oh, a thousand pardons, my lady!” He quickly runs back to retrieve another horse. Momo mounts her horse, as Ochaco packs their provisions. Katsuki grunts as he fastens his saddle onto their horse.

Then he and Eijiro climb onto their horse. Momo looks down at Ochaco. “Are you gonna get on?” She asks. Ochaco bites her lip. “Yeah, I was just thinking about this situation... What if we don't get there in time, or worse, we can't get in Loyaci at all?” Momo sighs. “Well, all we have to do is get to the Forbidden Road before they do. We can stop them before they even enter Loyaci. That is if we make haste.”

Ochaco nods, and climbs up onto Momo's horse. Denki comes back with a black horse, with white speckles on its behind. He has saddled it, and passes the reins to Izuku. He smiles, and thanks Denki. The 5 of them ride down to the gate of the village, and Ochaco groans, but it only audible for Momo. “Is everything alright, Miss Ochaco?” She whispers, and Ochaco grits her teeth. “It's just been so many years since I ran away from Loyaci... I'm not sure I want to go back.”

Momo nods. “I understand that the past is hard to face, but avoiding it entirely is just impossible. It will come back to bite you eventually.” Ochaco's shoulders start to sag. “I know. But I don't know if I can control the Evil within me long enough to save Shoto.” Momo sighs, as they reach the Rena Passage, through the Ghia Forest. “I admit, I was shocked to see my lord with a Mage of Dendar.”

Ochaco pushes her witch hat up further her head. “Well, I never asked to be a mage, it was forced on me.” She sighs. “But alas, here we are. I've spent the last nine years trying to contain her, but still use my mage power.” Momo smiles. “It is admirable to try and fight that evil with something positive.” Ochaco nods.

Eijiro lets out a whine, and Katsuki scoffs. “Oh, right. You're a weakling.” He says. Eijiro tenses up. “My Draconic senses are saying that there is something unnatural about this place!” Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Oh, my pardons! Your ‘Draconic Senses’ think it's unnatural.” Eijiro, not picking up on Katsuki's sarcasm, nods. “That's what I said.” Katsuki groans. “You know, Scales? We'd better teach you what being sarcastic means, and how to identify it.”

Izuku rides his horse closer to Katsuki and Eijiro. “Kacchan, stop it. Pay no attention to Kacchan, Eijiro. I have heard your concern, and have noted it. I am making sure that there is no evil beings or whatever in this forest, just hang on while I determine the safety of this forest.” Eijiro nods. “Thanks, Izuku. I appreciate it.” Izuku smiles, and the Solstice Sword hums as he gets ahead of the party.

“Hark, Bearer!” Izuku glances at the sword. What is it? “There is an evil here, like your friend fearth.” Izuku frowns, but decides not to just blurt out that information. Where? Is it close? Is it the forest? Izuku asks, and Solstice vibrates. “Not that I can telleth. I thinkst there may be a trap or barrier of pure darkness around this forest. Perhaps around Reneumel.” Izuku scoffs. Yeah, where were you when Shoto was being kidnapped? Some Lathander's Lighting would've been nice! He tells the sword, with some resentment.

The sword buzzes. “I am sorry. I used mine magical energy too much all at once. Lathander's Lightning in particular taketh a long time to rechargeth.” But it's been like four days! How do you expect me to defeat Dendar when I can only use you EVERY FOUR DAYS?!

“Thou art right. I should have toldst thee that I can goeth into a slumber if mine magic isn't sufficient, for I cannot maintain mine magical blade with the power that is given unto me.” Izuku sighs. Well, I find that answer insufficient, but I suppose there's nothing I can do about that. Do you think we'll be safe exiting the forest?

“As long as thou doth not useth up mine magic before the endeth of this Forest, I thinkest that thou shalt beest fine.” Izuku swallows. I hope that whatever Eijiro and the Solstice Sword are sensing isn't gonna be so dangerous. But when have we ever been that lucky? Knowing our luck, Ochaco will turn into Dendar again, and try and take the Sword of Light from me. NO. I can't think that way. Ochaco has done a great job of keeping Dendar in check. She can handle this too...right?

[sweetteaanddragons]

9, 33, 42?

I had a hard time with this one, I think because I’ve technically done it before in my “Not All Stories” series from archiveofourown, and I couldn’t get that ‘verse out of my head. Finally I decided there was no use fighting it and just fit this into that ‘verse. You shouldn’t have to read anything from that to understand this, or at least I tried very hard to include all necessary information. I’ve included the basic premise below, just in case, and if anyone has any questions please let me know!

What you need to know for this fic: When Aragorn’s still a child at Rivendell, there’s an unfortunate incident in which a terrible misunderstanding leads to the elves accidentally killing some innocents. Some Rangers are also killed when their attempt to peacefully intervene failed. While this has wide rippling effects on the world around them, the Ring is still eventually brought to everyone’s attention, and a Council gathers to discuss it, though there’s a slightly different fellowship formed than before.

Now to delve into one of those effects:

Even three weeks after receiving the news, Imladris still simmered with tension. 

It had been two Ages of the world since the Elves had bloodied their swords and then been forced to admit they had done wrong in doing so. None liked being connected to it, whether they’d been on the fateful expedition or not.

Elladan still wasn’t entirely sure of exactly what had occurred. Those who had been at the battle were still confined, and as of yet his father had not seen fit to confide the particulars to him or Elrohir. All he had to go on were the increasingly improbable whispers and a few precious facts.

Fact: He had not seen Ada this grieved since Mother had left these shores.

Fact: Blood had been shed that should not have been.

Fact: Some of that blood was that of the Dunedain, a fact that had him stealing little Estel away from his mother and tutors at every opportunity. Only with that small body clinging safely to his back, still only starting to grow into its full potential, could he really trust that this latest cousin was still with them.

He did not yet know which of his foster-brother’s kin had fallen. Elrohir was hunting down the names assiduously, and Elladan dreaded what he would find. Which men that they had rode with, fought with, bled with, had found death at what should have been friendly swords?

He was used to losing mortal friends to violent deaths.

He was not used to this.

Estel tugged at his tunic. “Look, look!”

Elladan looked out over the balcony and down to the courtyard. Four of the Dunedain had come riding in, looking even more grim than usual.

“Will we greet them?” Estel asked, practically bouncing with excitement at the new visitors. He alone was not troubled by the tension in Imladris. They’d kept it from him as best they could.

Elladan hesitated. These were not the men that were usually sent to Imladris to bring reports and receive supplies. The Dunedain were careful who they sent, so that only a few knew where their young chieftain was hidden. The change was easy enough to explain, though it twisted his stomach. If these men were here, he doubted the usual party had come out of the battle alive. Still, it would be incautious . . . 

“I had best greet them alone,” he said reluctantly. “But perhaps you can speak to them at supper tonight.” Once he was entirely certain all was well, though he had no more than a vague shadow of a thought why it should not be. “Run back to your mother, Estel.”

He wanted to take the boy himself, but he didn’t dare take the time. After what had occurred, no courtesy could be spared to welcome these men, though no courtesy could possibly make amends.

And what trouble could possibly come to Estel here?

He cursed that thought bitterly in the days to come.

Estel was gone. Vanished along with his mother and those of the Dunedain that had come.

He and Elrohir had hoped, prayed, that perhaps the Dunedain had just removed them.

But the tracks led east and south before they vanished entirely, as if some great winged creature had swept down and carried the travelers away.

Elladan had seen one of the Nazgul once, from a distance. He tried not to imagine little Estel swept up in one of their mount’s claws, caught in the unimaginable terror of its breath. Tried not to think of Lady Gilraen caught up likewise, her face caught in the same rictus of pain as his mother - 

Or worse, discarded unnoticed somewhere along the road.

He did very poorly at not imagining.

“We go onward,” Elrohir said grimly. “We know their direction.”

Elladan didn’t argue. Onward they went, to the very edge of Mordor.

A sign, Elladan begged the Valar. One sign. One hint as to direction.

As to where even now his cousin, his brother, was being tormented by whatever remained of Sauron. As to what route they could take, what desperate hope they could grasp -

They lingered for a week, pressing inward, searching round. Neither wanted to be the first to admit that there was no hope, in any sense of the word.

They dreamed of Imladris, covered in a shadow, drowning in grief. Three nights they dreamed, in all particulars alike for both.

It was the only sign they received. 

“They want us to turn back,” Elrohir finally said. His voice cracked as he did.

We cannot, he wanted to shout. We must not.

Then he thought of that tide of grief and wondered what their father must think after so long with no word.

His father was strong, he knew, he’d had to be to survive three ages of the world, but even strength had its limits. If he and Elrohir did not return . . . 

One sign, he prayed again. Pleaded again. One sign and I will brave the very heart of Mordor if you ask it, just do not ask this. At least tell us where to find his bones.

But there was nothing.

When at last he nodded to his brother and allowed his horse to turn home, he understood fully for the first time how grief could drive Elves west.

The Rangers grew scarcer and scarcer, only rarely allowing themselves to be seen.

The grief grew ever greater in his father’s eyes. Elladan saw it in his brother’s too. 

In the mirror, he saw it in his own.

(That the Rangers might no longer trust them, they had considered; that the Rangers might simply have reclaimed their chief, they had hoped. All such hope had been lost at the trail’s end, when fear of the Nazguls’ mounts had swept all other thought away.

It did not occur to either of the twins that Gandalf was not the only one to ever have done a favor for the eagles, or that the Ranger who had done so once would be desperate enough to call in the favor then. They were not used to thinking of themselves as something that Men fled from.)

The Ring was yet more grief after long hard years of it.

And yet Elladan counted it worth it for there, against all hope, was hope himself.

“Estel,” Elrohir breathed, and there he was, a Ranger grown, so far from the child that had once tugged on their tunics and begged for tales.

The joy on Ada’s face surpassed anything Elladan had seen since they’d lost him.

Naturally, the first thing Estel did after his identity was revealed was volunteer for a quest to the very place they’d feared him lost to and on which he would almost certainly die.

If Elladan had not already been allowed to join the quest along with his brother, he would have demanded a place then. He didn’t care how long Estel had been surviving on his own.

He was still the youngest family member, and now that they had him back, Elladan refused to let him out of his sight.

[dungeonmalcontent]

How to kill exactly one PC

I run a campaign with a weird system of emerging dungeons that sort of sprout up in the setting and then get pulled away after a short time (sort of roguelike system). The players will generally be able to find a temporary dungeon if they want and every now and then a new one will present itself if they’re in the right place at the right time.

This is the story of how one of my emerging dungeons killed exactly one player, and that was the player that stood the most to gain from the treasure.

So my party of four (plus one npc) had ventured back down into the lair of an opaline grub, a horrifying large acidic parasite aberration. It had already killed an allied npc and it was hoarding an alchemical reagent their employer needed.

While they managed to kill it, collect their magic mushrooms, and find some interesting loot in it’s small nest of bones, there was still more of the monster’s cave to explore.

The cleric and sorcerer (who had healed herself and not taken hardly any damage, respectfully) took it upon themselves to venture down the last burrowed corridor of the final chamber of the cave. That is where they found the door to the vault.

Engraved with draconic runes for a faded warding spell, the steel vault door was already interesting and different from what they had experienced thus far. And already having found evidence of dragonborn in the monster’s pile of leftovers, it was a safe bet that some of the inhabitants of the dungeon were already dead. It didn’t hurt that the knowledge cleric had read up on some dragonborn cultural information and noticed that this vault looked a lot like a royal bunker used by certain clans.

It was a unanimous decision to explore the vault. This party is always hungry for gold and loot they can use to get stronger items.

After a short rest and a temporary goodbye to their lizardfolk fighter npc friend, the party made their way into the vault. The foxfolk fighter was trying to lead the way with his warpick of warning, but he was two steps behind the excited knowledge cleric who is dragon-obsessed. It was a short trip through the door before reaching a modified version of the infamous countdown room.

The room is designed to psych the players out—put them on edge, but never hurt them. While my own performance as a DM might have been a little lackluster (due to a 0 performance modifier), the party didn’t take long to figure out what they had to do. While the room became more hectic, they just had to take the boon it gave them and move on (in this case potions of fire breath) after the countdown reached 0.

Beyond the countdown room was the throne room. The bunker was a royal safe-house of sorts. About as close to a dragonborn chieftain would ever get to having a room for hoarding their treasure like a real dragon. The guards were long dead, corpses resting against the walls and pillars along the room. Their “king” had trapped them all in the room and they had all starved to death, the kind included.

They found the king’s remains on his throne. A large object made of solid gold and adorned with dragon bones, obsidian, and other pieces of volcanic glass. It had faded from it’s former glory, but as the cleric and sorcerer slowly discovered, it seemed to renew itself as they affected it with spells. However, it didn’t reveal its secrets with an identify spell... and the more they interacted with the throne to try and learn its secrets the more it began to affect them. The throne, a mean artifact I had homebrewed, had its base qualities as outlined in the description, but also a few that weren’t so apparent until later.

It had been charming them.

Slowly, as they looked at it and renewed its sheen, it began to look more appealing to the whole party (minus the fighter, who had very little interest in wealth and worldly things beyond what he could use to hit things with). Not just the sorcerer and cleric, though, but also the half-elf gambler.

While he hadn’t been interacting with the throne all that much, his innate greed had sparked a connection with the magic of the throne right away. It was perfect for him and he wanted it. All three had failed Wisdom saves, and all three knew that the person who sat down in the throne would be amazing, someone to admire as a king with power beyond all others. And so it began. The party’s first real PVP combat; a race to the throne.

This would be a good time to talk about a feature that I like to use as a DM. I want my players to have the opportunity to get their way out of bad situations when their dice fail them over and over again, so I let them design legendary actions. Whenever they do something wonderful, creative, and funny, they get a point of DM inspiration they can use to take their legendary actions.

All three players had inspiration to spend.

So while the cleric ran up first, she was interrupted by the sorcerer’s chill touch spell that put a ghostly skeletal hand between the throne and the cleric’s rear (in a pretty funny butt grab that, in hind sight, is really worth an inspiration), and just as they thought they were going to duke it out alone the gambler stepped in. Both the sorcerer and cleric were stunned in a rapid Gambit style assault and the gambler made his way to the throne.

One of the strange things about the throne is that it requires attunement. While the normal way of sitting down in it and syncing with it’s magic over a period of time works just fine, there is a secret second way to attune to it: to spill blood fighting over it and be the first to sit down. Of course, if you get knocked out and damaged, the person who damaged you can sit in the throne and attune automatically as well. And the gambler, as he sat down in his throne, attuned to it and gained everything he had wanted from it.

As soon as the gambler attuned, the charm effect wore off, and the whole party paused for a moment. And then the sorcerer set off her legendary action, a powerful charm, directed at the gambler. Even in a combat scenario he was helpless to resist, and was talked out of the throne.

At this point both the sorcerer and cleric knew the throne was very dangerous, and the gambler was not happy about losing something so perfect for him. While he was charmed, he was still not being “controlled,” and like a pouting child, threatened the actual child sorcerer if she didn’t let him keep the throne.

The sorcerer was fairly confident she had diffused the situation, and as she called the fighter over to escort the gambler away the cleric triggered her legendary action.

The cleric knew that the second the charm wore off, the gambler would try and kill the sorcerer and go back for the throne before the dungeon disappeared for good. She knew that the gambler had to either be put in place... or die. Abyssal green tendrils licked up around the gamblers feet, burning him with acid and holding him in place as the cleric’s spiritual weapon battered him from the side. The cleric had been rolling poorly all night, and her inability to do anything had been building up into a rage against the one PC she had (only in character) disliked. While the gambler had survived, both he and the cleric had gotten down to very low health.

The fighter backed off, not sure what he had gotten himself in to and the sorcerer panicked. Storm sphere went up, and the cleric and gambler went down. Death saves were made. The gambler got back up on a nat 20 and went straight for his throne. He had gone unconscious and the charm had finally worn off. In his rage at being manipulated and knocked unconscious, he used his fire breath from the countdown room to roast the cleric, forcing her to lose another death save.

The fighter, who had been torn until this point, finally took action. He was deeply conflicted with the situation. While he was very powerful, he viewed himself as more of a protector than a killer, and he knew that killing the gambler was wrong... but he was more protective of the sorcerer and cleric than he had been of the gambler. He made three attacks, dual-wielding, the first missed. The gambler was down and losing a death save... and then the fighter used his action surge and spiked the gambler to the throne with a warpick, pinning the half-elf where he had wanted to be the whole time.

The party stabilized the cleric and left immediately. They were mostly lawful good, and they had just killed a party member (albeit a chaotic evil one) and left him where they had found the remains of the last greedy dragon king. Dead.

The Throne of Dragon Greed is a fun tool. It shows the players who they really are and makes for a great catalyst to weed out the party members that aren’t trustworthy. And while this incident ended with the death of a player, it also led to some of the best roleplaying I’ve ever gotten my players in to. I’m beginning to think that the monsters that I put them up against are nowhere near as fun as the monsters they keep among them.

[greennightspider]

Fated Instinct Chapter 13: Relax. Breathe. And Jab.

Summary: Sequel to Cabin in the Snow. Akari finds herself in a predicament after an accidental overnight stay in a cabin grants her the title of fiance to the chieftain-to-be M’Baku himself.

Author’s Note: This chapter is a tad longer than the last, usually I’d split them up into two chapters but it just seemed too abrupt to divide it mid-scene. An important note is that a lot of times I will reference things from Cabin in the snow so I do recommend reading it, just or context of things like in the previous chapter. 

Warning: Get’s a little frisky

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 14,  Chapter 15,  Chapter 16,  Chapter 17,  Chapter 18, Chapter 19,  Chapter 19(2),  Chapter 20,  Chapter 20(2),  Chapter 21,  Chapter 22, Chapter 23,  Chapter 24

M’Baku x Akari (OC)

M’Baku watched as Akari and N’Ceba left the room thankfully unscathed, unbloodied, and surprisingly, not hateful. Runi had propped herself up on a chair against the wall watching the small switchblade twirl in her hands, while Kwhezi had long since excused himself. Each of them had a content, mutual understanding in their eyes, but hidden under their smiles he could see a serious resolve. He knew both women well enough to know there was something between them now, something that he wasn’t privy to. But for now he decided not to push it, content enough that they were both on civil terms.

Runi hopped off her chair and watched as N’Ceba left with her minions, peering at her perky backside. “Sooo we ain’t tag-teaming her ass?”

Akari laughed. “Nope, or at least not yet.” Akari knew that if even a morsel of what N’Ceba said was true, then that meant she needed to be on her guard, and that N’Ceba herself may be the least of her worries. It seems that some for her previous fears about this engagement were not entirely unfounded, and she knew that she would have to look into it more. She sighed before turning to her best friend. “You finished for the day?”

Runi shrugged. “You know it.”

“Sweet, I might head back home before going in early. I’ll see you tonight for the session?”

“As if I’d miss an opportunity to whoop Zahkele’s ass.” Runi grinned mischievously as she walked away, leaving Akari with a very apprehensive M’Baku. “Anything I can help with Kari?”

Akari sighed. “Trust me, after the talk I just had? All I need to go do is relax. I’ll probably head to the training centre early tonight, it is Tuesday after all.” M’Baku quirked his head to the side, and Akari endeavoured to elaborate. “Every Tuesday me and my family head to the training centre together to let off steam, to de-stress, and just spend time together as a family.” Akari smiled, before biting her lip and eyeing M’Baku’s curious look. “Would you like to come along?”

“Sure, why not?” M’Baku grinned.

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Relax, she said.

THWACK! Zahkele threw a spear at his target, managing to pierce the board itself and the board behind it.

De-stress, she said.

Kaia spindled up the training ropy like a spider to its thread, proceeding to hang upside down from her rope with her dagger in her mouth.

Spending quality time as a family she said.

Watching M’Baku with his mouth open at the spectacle around him, Zahkele decided to offer the newbie a bone. “Baku, c’mere. Lemme give you some advice.” Zahkele gestured, pulling M’Baku into his armpit so he could whisper in his ear. “Look. Here me when I say, you can’t be pulling your punches here. You gotta go full strength no matter who you’re up against, because they’ll do the same to you. And, maybe, just maybe.” Zahkele chuckled as he backed away. “You’ll survive.”

The intensity in the room was unreal. Eshile was watching Zahkele’s form while Akari and Runi were throwing hits using gloves, with . While it was not a menacing aura, M'Baku felt the atmosphere in the room had changed from the happy family dynamic, to a stoic and serious gaze he could only see from the guards.

“Is this a normal night for you guys?”

Akari stopped sparring with Runi and called out to Zahkele to come and swap, as Akari ducked out of the ring to meet M'Baku on the mat. “Well I mean, I mean its normal for us, it keeps our skills sharp,  and lets us get out our aggression healthily.” Akari grunted as she rolled her neck, tightening her boxing pads on her hands before settling into a receiving stance. “Now let’s go.”

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Zahkele and Runi kept sparring on the mat until both were upright entangled in each other’s limbs, neither one willing to fall. Wrestling was a favorite past time with these two, having kept score for almost a decade. Runi’s leg was tucked behind Zahkele’s knee, ready to whip his feet out from under him, if only she could untangle his hold on her arm and hip. But she knew as soon as he fatigued, the slightest slip even for a millisecond would cost him his footing. And there was no way he could hold up forever. “Might as well give up Kele.” Runi snarled.

“Or what?” Zahkele grinned, locking eyes with Runi in a mischevious smirk. “You gonna flash me again like you did the other night?”

Runi’s mouth dropped open, and in her shock Zakhele managed to push Runi off balance. Runi landed on her back and growled propping herself on her eyebrows and eyeing her haughty opponent, making a mental note to smack that grin right off of his smug face.

“Oh its on.”

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“Akari!” Eshile yelled, walking away from Zahkele and towards the couple, who instantly halted at the sound of the commanding voice. "May I have a turn with M'Baku?”

“Father…”

“I promise I will not break your betrothed, you have my word.” Eshile rose his hand with the other to his breast, Akari’s weary gaze softening but not dissipating. 

“Its okay,” M'Baku lightly grabbed Akari’s arm. “I’m sure your family knows my American style pancakes are too good to let me die, or at least good enough to let me keep my limbs,” M'Baku joked, wanting to see Akari’s smile again. She gave him a warm nod, his touch enough to assure him that he would protect himself at all times.

Akari walked away towards Kaia, who had settled on hanging upside down from two of the long ropes hanging from the ceiling. She grinned at the sight of her very nimble sister, before taking a deep breath and starting the climb.

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“Does your father know you’re doing this?” Eshile asked, pointing his spear at M'Baku, who tentatively grasped his own with both hands. “No sir, although I have not forgotten your words from the first time we met.”

“And you still think it’s a good idea?”

“No sir. But I’m willing to learn from the best.” M'Baku spread his legs into a horse like stance, tentatively gripping his spear with both hands. “Plus, I thought maybe this would be a good way to impress Akari.” M'Baku joked.

“Son,” Eshile chuckled before snapping into a more flexible wide’ legged stance, tucking his spear under his left armpit and leaving his right arm free to curl his fist. “You picked the wrong opponent for that.”

Within a split second Eshile was in M'Baku’s face, and the younger opponent barely had enough time to bring his spear across his chest in defence. M'Baku ending up sliding a good meter across the dark grey floor. He curled his toes trying to plant his feet, anything to get a good footing against the man in front of him. Finally Eshile stopped advancing, and grinned as he freed his hold and began attacking at close range with no mercy.

Blow after blow he fired at M'Baku, who in his defense was outmatched, but barely managing to hold his own. Eshile was not only fast but dextrous, as each movement seemed to be part of a furious dance, the spear a very extension of his own limb. M'Baku could see the same style when he fought with Akari, a powerful skill that he admired. Once again M'Baku was brought face to face with his father in law, and as the metal from their spears screeched against each other. “You can hold your own. Impressive.” Eshile admitted. “Not as fluid as Akari but you have strength and quick thinking.” Eshile’s eyes shifted to the side, and with a quick glance M'Baku met the sight of Akari advising Kaia on how to throw a spear, and the way her face lit up in pride for her younger sibling. M'Baku’s gaze shifted back, now realizing what this match was.

“You are right sir, but I hope to be one day. In all honesty I am grateful to have her.” M’Baku answered confidently.

In one swift motion Eshile unlocked their spears and the two began circling each other once again. “That is good to hear.” Eshile acknowledged before he crouched low. “I can see my daughter is fond of you. And you treat her well that much I can see. You care for her greatly.”

“I do.” M'Baku gritted his teeth as he tried to wrestle out of Eshile’s grip.

“Then hear me when I say boy that you must keep your guard up, always. Not only for your sake but for hers.” M’Baku fended off several more hits before he worked up the courage to ask a question that had been forming in his mind.

“Then would you ever consider training me?”

Well isn’t this boy just full of surprises.

"And why would I do that?”

“Because I want to have the strength to keep your daughter safe.” Eshile swore he saw something dark flicker in M'Baku’s eyes during his words. “And you have shown me that I have a lot to learn.”

Eshile grunted as he eyed up the boy in front of him. Daluxolo must have told M’Baku of who he was, who he used to be. And judging from the look in the boy’s eyes, he was dead serious.

“Okay then.” Eshile twirled his spear, throwing it up in the air before catching it. “Let’s get to work.”

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As the night drew long, Kaia had headed home first, as she had always been an early sleeper. Zahkele had headed off after her, and Runi did the same, although she decided to run back to the house as her cooling down from training. Which left Akari, Eshile and M'Baku.

“A good first day of training your highness.” Eshile grinned, his normal cheery demeanour now settling in as normal. “I hope this won’t be the last time you join us.” 

“That is if my body can move tomorrow.” M'Baku waggled his eyebrow at Eshile, who laughed at his future son-in-law’s wheezing form. Before heading to the changing rooms to grab his things, but not before turning to the former royal guard in gratitude. “Thank you for letting me come and train with your family.”

“Eh, that’s okay, just tell our chieftain that I gave you a good workover eh?” Eshile winked, knowing full well Daluxolo would just be surprised his son came back alive. “Well I best be heading back, I think Akari is still in the changing rooms though…”

“I will wait for her to walk her home.”

“You do that.” Eshile pointed the spear at him before walking away. “Make sure she rests somewhere safe tonight.”

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“Kari!” M'Baku called into the changing room as he walked in, looking around to make sure no one else was around. “I brought your gear you left on the mat…”

As M'Baku turned the corner he felt a shift in his pulse as he peeked at his betrothed in her naked form. The ends of her long hair settling into the small of her back, just before her plump ass. He watched as she closed her eyes and let the water run down and caress her body, maneuvering the soap suds this way and that around her skin. Almost immediately M'Baku dropped his back, finally gaining Akari’s attention. Looking back at her lover with a small but subtle smile before turning her back to him. At once M'Baku started undressing, and made his way into the showers, coming up behind Akari and letting his fingers caress her hips, taking the soap from her hands.

“I can help with that, usana.”

Akari let her head fall back and lean on M'Baku as he worked the soap into a thick lather on his hands, before abandoning it to roam free on her body. He first massaged her stomach, moving upwards to grab her breasts, slowly squeezing each one with every contented sigh that came from the woman in his arms. M'Baku moved towards her back, softly massaging her back, moving lower until he gave her a small pat on her ass with a chuckle. Akari turned to M'Baku, bringing her arms around his neck in a slow kiss under the pitter patter of the shower. In this moment all of Akari’s tensions and worries were washed away, all but forgotten. In M’Baku she found her solace. And in Akari’s small smiles between their kisses, her lovingly gentle caresses, and the way her eyes sparkled even under the stream of water as they looked at him with love, M’Baku found his happiness. A happiness that he would vow to protect, no matter what would come their way.

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Taglist @skysynclair19 @junesbride @great-neckpectations @muse-of-mbaku @hippiesandpeacesigns  @jackburtonsays  @coonflix @hi-looo12 @bonyg @romanceoftheeveryday @someareblindtoitsbeauty @wheredidallthedreamersgo @msblkshot710 @peaches-bbygrl @theunsweetenedtruth @blackpinup22 @airis-paris14  @macgruberrrsimplyyamberr  @blackpantherreblogs  @wawakanda-btch  @im5ftbutmythroat66 @vanitykocaine @iamrheaspeaks @aykanna @laketaj24 @letsshamelessqueen-m @leahnicole1219   @cutewylie @titty-teetee @babygirlofwakanda @chefjessypooh (Tried my best to fix em tags but I have a feeling half of them still ain’t working >.<)

[atopearth]

Shall we Date? Destiny Ninja 2 Part 15 - Ayu Season 2 Route

Ayu seems so mature now. Like I guess he was rather mature in S1 already but in S2, he’s much more willing to speak and he’s even quite bold! I mean, he’s already asked her to marry him on the same day as her inauguration ceremony and he’s already discussed with her parents how their lifestyle will work out after, since he’s the Spring Village Chieftain and she’s the Kushinada clan chief. She’ll be living in the Spring Village but I guess they’ll both assume their respective duties since both clans need them to lead them.

So mean of Mitsuru to crash Ayu and the heroine’s wedding! I thought it was too quick for the happy wedding but dangg, crashing a wedding is gravely impolite. Ooh this seems different and interesting! Considering the talk about disaster in all the other routes when the treasures are gathered, it’s nice to finally see it happen. Frozen in time, huh? Only some people are frozen though hmm. I’m excited to see Mitsuru work together with the rest of them to find the treasures that disappeared after reacting to each other, sounds like fun!

I like how Mitsuru has fallen for the heroine but gets rejected by her on his request for a date and Quetzalcoatl asks Mitsuru if he wants to go on a date with him instead lmao😂 Mitsuru and Ayu constantly arguing about the littlest things is so silly but cute lol. I agree with Coatl that the problem isn’t Mitsuru but Ayu’s feelings. It’s really nice that Ayu thinks of her so much and loves her so much, but the more he loves her, the more tormented he is by the idea that she might choose someone else. I guess he either needs more confidence or the heroine needs to give him more security, or maybe both lol. Not sure if I’m the only one that thinks this but licking tears away has never been a romantic thing to me, I always just think of how dirty, unhygienic and slimy the whole thing is lmao. I’m sorry I’m this kind of person…

Not sure why but I think they added so many checkpoints in this route for buying clothes to continue the story zzz. Literally ran out of zeni sigh, I hate it when games do this zzz. It’s nice to see how much Ayu has matured though, he’s always been kind and considerate but now, he’s also very understanding and grown up. Instead of merely going against and defeating Mitsuru stating that he is wrong, he along with the heroine are trying to get Mitsuru to understand that his motives and reasons are not the right ones he should be living for. They hope to truly become friends with Mitsuru and that’s really nice to see.

I really like how Ayu and the heroine’s experiences in the first season have caused them to become the people they are now and being capable of empathising with Mitsuru’s loneliness and his feelings. This feels like a proper second season compared to the rest and I really like it! :) And they finally get married! Yeah, as I said I feel like this was the best S2 story because it retains the same premise but goes about it in another way making it much more refreshing. Seeing Mitsuru and Ayu argue and become friends was also a wonderful sight to see, so really, I enjoyed all aspects of the story and Ayu’s character this time😍 Hopefully Kaito’s will be just as good!

[do-not-trust-robots-blog]

No Particular Place to go

June 11th, 1974

The sound of a car speeding off in the distance informed me that she was gone. It all started about a week ago. In the dead of night when my daughter assumed everyone was fast asleep she would sneak out to be with her, in my opinion, useless boyfriend. But I never slept.

Most fathers would be terrified at the prospect of their precious daughters riding off into the night with a hormonal 20-something doing who knows what, but unlike most I was still able to recall the memories of my youth. I remembered the days of reckless behavior, run-ins with the laws, and things that would make Sally and that wannabe punk’s head spin.

***

February 22nd, 1946   

Johnny Hollin’s car roared to life illuminating the dim street and beaming a kind of crude spot light on his long time sweetheart, May Jane Larey. She stood in her ravishing pale form blushing and fiddling with the ends of her loud yellow dress, as if Johnny and I hadn’t already seen her in more compromising positions. What a tart.

No matter how sweet and innocent May pretended to be when she was with her parents eating that shit they called dinner, Johnny and I both knew that under those soft smiles and shy glances May hid her true self. Mary was a whore. Just the images floating around my mind of the things May could do, the things that only we got to see, sent shivers down my spine and caused my breathing to quicken.

After three agonizing minutes of May pretending to contemplate the idea of getting into Johnny’s car, she finally stopped being a tease and got in. Johnny greeted her with a sloppy kiss and a rough squeeze of her rear causing her to let out an adorable yelp. Such a fucking tease. I knew she did these little things on purpose to rile me up. All the things that she did sent an unquenchable fire coursing through my veins destroying every nerve ending in its path. But that was love wasn’t it? Dragging a person to the very brink of insanity before gathering them back into your enduring embrace. The two drove off leaving me to follow in the isolated darkness.

I’d follow the couple to the same place every night, for a bite to eat. May would wrap those dusty pink lips around whatever Johnny bought her, usually a number four with extra relish. Then they’d drive around the small town acting like they didn’t know where to go next, a useless attempt to salvage their purity, but they knew, we all knew.

Richard Road was about a mile away from May’s parent’s house. The older folks in town who had forgotten the ways of the young, only thought of the place as a gravel road that led to nothing. To the posterity of Texarkana, it was the only place to escape the inquisitive eyes of noisy neighbors and strict parents. Some described it as their safe haven, a home away from home. But let’s just call it what it really was. Texarkana’s crude version of  Lover’s Lane.

A place where the likes of Johnny and May could come and give each other the time without interruption, and people like myself could do what we do best under the cover of the trees. I parked down the street lateral to Richard road about half a mile back, and gathered all the things necessary for a pleasurable viewing of tonight's events. An old pillow case, most likely stole from Dad, with small crooked holes cut out for practical reasons, a flashlight, and a little extra heat just incase Johnny wasn’t in a very cooperative mood.

I secured the pillowcase tightly around my head with a simple shoestring. May would surely be frightened by my current appearance, there was no possibility that either teen would recognize me. For hours I had worked on lowering the octave in which I speak so that it resembled deep growl when I spoke, and over the course of my meticulous planning I’d packed on the pounds so much so that I rivaled even Hale the Whale, the biggest guy in town. When I finished my trek, Mary and I would lock eyes. Her brown eyes would open wide with fear and a hint of surprise and a high pitched shriek would rip out her throat cutting through the bitter air like a bullet. It would be the first note in a symphony of pain and misery.

I hadn’t missed much by the time I made my short nerve wrecking trek to the car. Johnny sang along to one of the ceaseless songs on the radio trying to pull a laugh out of pigheaded May. Finally he gave up his futile attempts at humor, turned off the overhead light, and began to furiously tickle May. The innocent act was only so for a second. Johnny’s calloused hands started to drift down the hem of the luminous yellow dress May adored so much.

May froze at the “new” sensation, as if she wasn’t already accustomed to it, but inevitably she melted into his increasingly aggressive touches. She let her back arch off of the faux leather seat, and her lips part ever so slightly releasing all those pent up emotions she’d been grasping onto so tightly. And it was that final glorious breath that let the heavens know that our May, the one the world tried to keep locked in a cage of modesty and purity, had broken free of societies bonds. Now she was in the form that I was most acquainted with. The May that seemed to glow under the moonlight, the May that was permanently coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and the May that couldn’t bare to be silent for even a moment. This was the Mary that we loved.

Any other night I would have let the couple continue their teenage fumblings until Johnny’s movements faltered, his face contorting beyond recognition, and May couldn’t stop singing. Then, the two would use whatever napkins they had leftover Harleys to make themselves presentable to the world outside. May would powder her dampened cheeks in the passenger's side mirror, covering the woman I knew and replacing her with May Jeanne Larey, the girl with the sweet smile and perfect grades. I despised this May.

Tonight would be different. I pulled the piece that seemed to be burning in my back pocket out and cocked it. A whisper in the edges of my mind cautioned the idea of bringing it at all. What if Johnny overpowered you? After all he is Johnny Hollis and you’re just a guy trying to attack him and his girl. No. I’d already thought of that. If Johnny even thought about getting smart with me I splatter his brain on the gravel, and even if he didn’t, even if Johnny was a perfect gentleman tonight, I might just do it anyways. It would be a marvelous, like some morbidly beautiful painting created by me. It would be the first artistic thing I’d ever done.

The gun fit perfectly in my gloved hands as I strolled casually to the rusty pick up, and the crunch of my feet as I marched to the driver’s side door rang through the air like thudding drums of war. I, in this scenario, the brave chieftain riding off to defend his clan and they were the invading puritans coming to rid me of my land.

With a gentle knock on the glass I notified the couple of the guest presence here on the desolate road. I never had seen Johnny so flustered in all my life. The boy shot at least three feet in the air at the sound hitting the ceiling with his head. He looked around attempting to find the source of the interruption. He falsely assumed that it was and animal or maybe even a cop, but instead he found me. Two sets of curious eyes began to scan my mask. I could only imagine the thoughts and assumptions racing through their minds.

I tapped again more urgently this time snapping the two out of their trance. But it wasn’t my tapping that did the trick. It was the subtle flash of the small silver piece in my other hand, the piece that could rip families apart and plunge neighborhoods into chaos that propelled Johnny to crank down his window. I was greeted with a wondrous foreign smell that was almost, almost indescribable. Being an observer in a place like this you never got the chance to experience the smell. Not matter how well you knew your subjects or how close you were that was something only they got to have. Not tonight.

Johnny’s voice shattered my enjoyment. ‘’Fellow… You’ve got me mixed up with someone. Y-you’ve got the wrong man.’’ This Johnny was no longer the confident man that could have any broad of his choosing, he was a scared little boy on the verge of wetting his trousers.

‘’I don’t want to kill you fellow, so do what I say.’’ A blatant lie. The one reason I had watched them for so long and knew them so intimately was not because of May’s earth shattering beauty or the fact that Johnny is a walking talking embodiment of the male image. I was here right here right now to fulfill this sick and twisted fantasy that had been brewing in darkest corner of my consciousness for years. And tonight things were going to end on my terms.

***

June 11th, !974

A loud crash shook me from my pleasant stroll down memory lane. Sally was home. From what I could gather off of my hearing alone, she had most likely miscalculated a step as she crawled through her small bedroom window, perhaps a cosmic punishment for her juvenile crimes. I expected her to just let out a pained groan, realize she was being quite loud, and crawl into bed dreaming about the boyfriend she foolishly believed she’d marry. If only reality would conform to baseless human expectations.

Frantic steps pounded towards the bedroom door that separated my wife, May, and I from our children. Luckily May was extremely difficult to disturb once asleep. The bedroom door flew open. Light from the hallway spilled caused my eyes to sting, having become so adapted to the cool darkness.

Sally stood before me. The sporadic rise and fall of her flat chest could be seen even in this blinding light and her skin, which favored my darker pigment, was speckled with fresh crimson blood. I could smell it from here. Thoughts of logical reasons behind her current appearance flooded my mind.  “Yeah dad we went to this groovy costume party and I got a little fake blood on me! Look see it's just corn syrup and food coloring!” Then with her index finger she would wipe one of the specks off and taste it with a giggle, I would tell her how much she had scared me, and we’d have a good laugh. But I knew. I knew.

Her voice quivered as she shattered the perfect reality I had created for us in this quiet peaceful suburb. ‘’Dad I did something really bad.’’

[timeforprayers1]

If Islam is a Peaceful Religion, Why Did the Prophet Muhammad (sa) Fight Wars?

A simple Google search will reveal that the rhetoric that ‘Islam may be a violent religion’ is as prevalent today because it was within the past. 

This is not a replacement criticism; 19th-century orientalists like Sir William Muir and John Rodwell, among others, also promoted these baseless accusations.

One strategy in their attacks against Islam was to malign the character of the Holy Prophet (sa) of Islam, for they knew that if they managed to try to to this, they might achieve their goal of discrediting Islam itself. it's interesting to notice , however, that the Quraish, the primary opponents of Islam and Muhammad (sa) witnessed his high moral character in spite of their opposition to his teachings. Indeed, his reputation was so outstanding that he was known by the titles of al-Siddiq (meaning the truthful) and al-Amin (meaning the trustworthy). His staunchest enemy, Abu Jahl, once stated, ‘O Muḥammad (sa)! We don't consider you to be a liar but we consider that which you've got delivered to be a lie.’  Similarly, another staunch enemy of Islam, Al-Nadr bin al-Harith once heard someone say that ‘Muhammad (sa) may be a liar’ (God forbid), and replied by saying: 

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‘Muhammad (sa) was a toddler among you and he was the foremost virtuous of all. He was the foremost honest in speech and therefore the most trustworthy – and this remained your view of him until you observed his hair turning grey and he reached his adulthood , and he delivered to you that which he brought. Then you began to mention that he's a magician and a liar. By God, he's not a liar nor is he a magician.’  Thus, the people that lived in his time, even those that became his staunchest enemies, never found a flaw in his character – yet strangely, those studying the lifetime of the Holy Prophet (sa) centuries later plan to besmirch his character.

After starting his mission to ask people to Islam, Prophet Muhammad (sa) preached in Makkah for nearly 13 years. During this point , most of the chieftains of the Quraish tribe rejected him. They began persecuting him and his followers to the extent that a number of them had to migrate to Abyssinia to hunt protection under a Christian king. The Quraish would beat and torture the tiny community of Muslims and made no distinction between any class or family ties. Additionally , the Quraish even imposed severe sanctions upon the Muslims for over two years which pushed them to the purpose of starvation. Eventually, Godhead commanded them to migrate and therefore the Muslims began a replacement life within the city of Madinah, a couple of hundred kilometres away. But despite the very fact that the idolaters of Makkah had successfully run the Muslims out of town, they weren't content: they wanted to wipe out Islam itself once and for all. They walk Madinah, with no provocation, with a well-equipped army of 1000 men. it had been due to this unprovoked attack that Godhead then permitted the Muslims to require up arms to defend themselves. Hence the primary verse revealed during this regard was:

‘Permission to fight is given to those against whom war is formed , because they need been wronged – and Allah indeed has power to assist them.’

The reason for this is often clarified within the subsequent verse:

‘Those who are driven out from their homes unjustly only because they said, ‘Our Lord is Allah’ – And if Allah didn't repel some men by means of others, there would surely are pulled down cloisters and churches and synagogues and mosques, wherein the name of Allah is oft commemorated. And Allah will surely help one who helps Him. Allah is indeed Powerful, Mighty.’ 

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This verse explains why the Prophet (sa) of Islam ever raised his sword to fight. it had been never to realize territory or to spread his religion by force. Rather, it had been to fight in self-defence, to save lots of Islam from extermination and to determine freedom of faith and thought for people of all religions. Hence, every war fought by the Holy Prophet (sa) must be examined with this premise in mind. Furthermore, consistent with the aforementioned verse, it's the duty of Muslims to guard not only mosques, but also the places of worship of other faiths and to make sure there's freedom for religion for all people, which is in complete accordance with the Holy Qur’an, which explicitly states, ‘There should be no compulsion in religion’ 

The Battle of Badr was the primary major war against the Makkan Quraish, comprising 1000 fully-equipped fighters, 700 camels and 100 horses. As compared , the Muslims numbered little over 310, with 70 camels and a couple of horses. Their provisions were so scarce that only six or seven Muslims were clad in armour. By all sorts of logic, this battle need to are won by the idolaters who numbered 3 times quite the Muslim army and were far superior in terms of military equipment. However, Godhead had already vouchsafed to the Muslims that they might be granted victory, and this is often exactly what transpired. Had the Muslims been adamant on waging war, then after this decisive victory they ought to have had the right chance to launch an attack on the Quraish. Yet it had been the Quraish who, seeking revenge for the loss of Badr, marched on Madinah once more with a military of 3000 warriors, 700 of whom were clad in armour, alongside 200 horses and 3000 camels.This was referred to as the Battle of Uhud. The Muslims once more had to defend themselves or Islam would are exhausted . The Muslim army, on the opposite hand, numbered only 700; of whom only 100 men were covered in armour, and therefore the entire army had no quite 2 horses. In fact, in every war during which the Muslims had to fight, they were heavily outnumbered, with the exception of the Battle of Hunain. Hence to suggest that the Muslims actively waged war against any non-Muslim opponent may be a fallacy.

Let us check out the progress of Islam in terms of numbers from another angle, which may shed further light on the fragility of this criticism. The Treaty of Hudaibiyah – a pact to finish fighting between the Muslims and therefore the Makkans – happened within the 6th year after the migration to Madinah, at which point Islam had been alive for about 19 years – 13 years in Makkah and 6 years in Madinah. The Muslims that accompanied the Holy Prophet (sa) on this journey to Makkah numbered 1400. Taking into consideration those women who stayed behind in Madinah, also because the children and elderly who didn't take part this expedition, a conservative estimate would put the whole Muslim population at on the brink of 3000. Two years later, at the Conquest of Makkah, the Holy Prophet (sa) entered the town with 10,000 men. [9] This meant that in 19 years of preaching, four of which were spent warring against the Makkans, the Holy Prophet (sa) had only, at most, a couple of thousand followers. But within the two years of peace, when no wars were fought, this number increased to 10,000. this is often a rise of several times over: which shows that the majority people accepted Islam in peacetime, whereas during the years of conflict the speed of individuals accepting Islam was significantly less. this is often another blow to the criticism that Islam was spread by the sword.

When the Muslims were at war with the Makkans, the Holy Prophet (sa) sent a delegation under the command of Hazrat Abdullah bin Jahsh (ra) to get information about the activities of the Makkans. An intelligence mission so on the brink of Makkah was a fragile matter and thus the Holy Prophet (sa) didn't even confide in them where they were going. Instead he handed a letter to their leader, Hazrat Abdullah bin Jahsh (ra) and instructed him to only open the letter after two days of travel. Once they arrived near Makkah, a caravan of the Quraish spotted them and an altercation broke out. The Muslims decided of their own accord to attack the caravan which the people needed to be captured or killed. Out of this party, one was killed, two were taken captive, but a fourth escaped. This party of Muslims returned to Madinah with the spoils of war. When the Holy Prophet (sa) learned of what had happened he stated:

‘I haven't given you permission to fight within the Sacred Month.’ 

He then refused to require anything from the spoils of war. [11] From the above accounts we also find that the Muslims were ill-equipped for warfare and lacked provisions. Any provisions, then, would have been welcomed under normal circumstances. Furthermore, the Muslims were actively at war with the Quraish. But the lofty morals and sense of honour of the Holy Prophet (sa) was such that he refused to simply accept anything from the spoils as he had never commanded them to fight. This is often a totally different approach to the famous proverb: ‘All is fair, crazy and war.’ actually , the Holy Prophet (sa) was so particular about the conduct in war that whenever he would dispatch a contingent, he would advise them saying:

‘O ye Muslims! Go forth within the name of Allah and perform jihad with the intention of protecting religion. But beware! don't embezzle the wealth of spoils and don't deceive the nation . don't mutilate the enemy dead, don't kill women and youngsters , nor religious recluses;and don't kill the elderly. Create peace within the land, and treat the people with benevolence, for surely, Allah loves the benevolent.’ 

This exemplary conduct in warfare was upheld by the Rightly-Guided Caliphs after the Prophet (sa). it's stated that when dispatching the military to face Byzantine forces, Hazrat Abu Bakr (ra) gave his men similar words of advice:

‘Stop, O people, that I'll offer you ten rules for your guidance within the battlefield. don't commit treachery or deviate from the proper path. you want to not mutilate dead bodies. Neither kill a toddler , nor a lady , nor an aged man. Bring no harm to the trees, nor burn them with fire, especially people who are fruitful. Slay not any of the enemy’s flock, but your food. you're likely to travel by people that have devoted their lives to monastic services; leave them alone.’ 

[upshotre]

Oyo PDP, coalition members pressure Makinde on appointments

Chieftains of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) in Oyo State and members of the coalition that worked for victory of Seyi Makinde are mounting pressure on the Governor-elect to share political appointments based on the agreed formula. Members of the African Democratic Congress (ADC), Zenith Labour Party (ZLP) and Social Democratic Party (SDP) coalesced with the PDP, adopting Makinde as their joint governorship candidate in the March election. ADC is largely made up former members of the All Progressives Congress (APC) who broke away in the wake of an unresolved crisis in May last year. The group is known as the Unity Forum. The Nation learnt authoritatively that members of the coalition have been mounting pressure on Makinde for top slots in the state cabinet, boards of parastatals and local government leadership.   After setting up a 10-member transition committee in April, it was learnt that some of the blocs in the coalition complained of marginalization. They pointed out that it might be a sign of what to come when Makinde eventually forms his government. The development might have informed the reason the Governor-elect set up a 91-member inauguration committee as a way of accommodating all interests. The position of the Secretary to the State Government (SSG), it was learnt, has been one of the most difficult choices for Makinde as big wigs across the blocs have been jostling for the plum slot. But Makinde has favored a top PDP member who hails from Oke-Ogun area of the state. The candidate has been a loyal member of the party for several years.   His choice will pitch Makinde against the leader of a bloc who said all his party wants is the position and a pocket of smaller appointments. While pressure increases over cabinet slots, members of the three other parties are having a hectic time integrating into the PDP at the ward and local government levels as PDP members are not embracing them. They believe that they are only coming to reap where they sowed only a little. The PDP members, it was gathered, are insisting the reward for the coalition should never get to the local government level because it will be impossible to implement given the fact that the party is well rooted at local level which will make it impossible to cede reward to newcomers.   They believe that their reward should end at the state appointment level. A PDP chieftain in Ibadan, who spoke to The Nation in confidence, said: “Members of the ADC and others who joined us for the governorship election are expecting too much. But they are wrong. “PDP has remained a strong party in Oyo State. They cannot just come today and expect to have upper hand over us. That will not work. “We worked very hard for the election, so they should allow us serve the people of Oyo State in line with our party manifesto. “Whatever Makinde wants to give them should be at the state level. They should stop thinking that they will get anything at the local government level. That will be self -deceit.” While the pressure is sustained by political jobbers, Makinde is said to personally select members of other blocs for the appointments made so far. But perceived as a divide-and-rule tactics, the ADC last week issued a statement announcing its erstwhile governorship candidate Sen. Olufemi Lanlehin as its leader with whom all negotiations must be made. The idea, The Nation learnt, was aimed at enjoying a collective bargaining. The sharing formula agreed for the coalition to take place was 30 per cent for the ADC, 15 percent for ZLP, five per cent for SDP and 50 per cent for the PDP. As the inauguration day gets closer, members of the PDP and other blocs in the coalition are confused about the shape of the incoming administration. Read the full article

[spectraspecs-writes]

Kashyyyk - Chapter 68

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 67. Chapter 69.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma thank u for reading u get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank u for support u get a tag.

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The Wookiee leads us through the village, past a number of other Wookiees. All of whom look at Zaalbar with shame. I can tell Zaalbar hates it, hates being looked at like this. He takes us through to a very large structure with a gong in front of it, and ushers us into the building. A Wookiee with half of a sword stands at the back wall, flanked by Czerka. And some other stuff like fruit, but it’s the Czerka people who stand out. “Step forward and address the mighty and wise Chuundar, outsider,” the Wookiee says, “I don't often allow visitors of your kind.”

Zaalbar takes point. “You are flanked by Czerka slavers!” he says, outraged, “Are they not outsiders? Or have you sold all of Kashyyyk to them?!”

Chuundar smirks, exuding an infuriating superiority. “Ah, brother Zaalbar,” he says, “You've been exiled a long time. You shouldn't speak in that tone. Things are different now. You are a mad-claw without honor. You have no voice among your own people. I, on the other hand, am Chieftain.”

“If you’ve made deals with the slavers,” I chime in, “the truth will get out eventually.”

Chuundar just gives a little laugh, which I hate. “You may talk,” he says, “but no one will believe you. I've had a long time to guide what my people think. They trust me, the mighty Chuundar. Even with my brother insane and father enslaved, I rose to protect my people despite it all.”

Zaalbar balks a bit. “Father was enslaved? ‘Mighty Chuundar?’ What are you talking about?” he protests in disbelief, “You were the runt!”

Now Chuundar balks. “I am no runt!” he objects. But then he gathers back his composure and clears his throat. “Like I said, Zaalbar, a lot has changed in your years away. We will discuss this soon enough.”

“What do you want?” I ask, “Why drag us here?”

“I haven't killed Zaalbar because he is my brother and I hoped he and I could come to an agreement,” Chuundar says, “You are irrelevant. I may be able to put you to use on a menial task. Zaalbar will have to stay here, of course.”

Great. Once again, the voice of Czerka gives me a task against the natives. Granted this time it’s one of the natives acting as the voice of Czerka, but he’s acting against the natives anyway by working with Czerka. It’s Tatooine all over again. This better not happen on Korriban or Manaan. I sigh. “So what’s the task?” I ask.

“A simple thing,” Chuundar says, “Another Wookiee has suffered the same fate as Zaalbar, gone mad and been exiled.” Well, that seems to be a matter of opinion, madness. “He now lurks the Shadowlands. More importantly, he's pestering my Czerka allies during their Shadowland expeditions. It is not good for business.” Good. “I'd leave the troublemaker down there but he has proven too good at surviving. He has managed to linger a number of years, cowering in his madness and shame. You are expendable. You will remove him.”

“This is crazy!” Mission objects, “You two are brothers! And you’re working with slavers! You’ve sold your own people into slavery! What happened between you and Big Z?”

Chuundar gives a little laugh. “Zaalbar didn't tell you? He took offense to my trading a few of our people for favors and weapons.” Chuundar shrugs. “I didn't understand his objection. Imagine the destruction if Czerka Corporation had come in with blasters firing. I saved many lives. Of course, I also gained weapons, and arranged for certain rivals to be taken. I protected my allies, and my power grew.”

“So that’s why these Wookiees haven’t turned on you,” Carth says.

“Each has come to understand the benefit of working with the enemy. Unlike your exiled companion.” Chuundar shakes his head. “Young Zaalbar had no foresight. He couldn't control his outrage. He attacked me with his claws and damned himself doing it.” Chuundar smirks. “A few careful stories and everyone called him mad-claw. Even father Freyyr. I easily had him exiled.”

“Okay, Chuundar,” I say, “I’ll do this task of yours, but I need Zaalbar with me as a guide.”

Chuundar shakes his head. “No, you won't need him to find your way. Over the years I have had my people trained to understand galactic Basic.” He laughs a little. “I tell them it's to better understand the enemy. They think it will make the Czerka easier to fight. Actually it makes them easier to obey. Remember, you can't beat me here. No one would dare oppose me to join an outsider or an exile.”

“You are wrong, brother,” Zaalbar says, “Someone would.”

“Right, Zaalbar!” Mission says, “All of us!”

“No, outsider,” Chuundar, says, “Zaalbar is referring to Freyyr, our father.” He looks at Zaalbar. “Why, Zaalbar? He ordered you exiled when you attacked me. He went as mad as you when he finally discovered the slavers. He dared challenge them alone and has not been seen since. That was years ago. Let him go, Zaalbar. I rule now. I'll take the Wookiees forward, but there are prices to pay.”

“I’ll be back, Zaalbar,” I say, “We’ll get you out of here.”

“No more words, outsider,” Chuundar says, “I've given my orders. I can't hold you here, but Zaalbar will stay until you kill the mad-claw in the Shadowlands.” He gestures to one of the other Wookiees, who leaves. “The guards will let you pass now. Leave the village through the northwest and follow the platform to the south and then east. You'll eventually see where Gorwooken waits for you. He'll lower you to the forest floor. Go.”

When we’re outside, Carth shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t like leaving someone behind, but I guess we don’t have a choice.”

I have to think for a minute. We start walking back to the Great Walkway. The Shadowlands sound like a pretty dangerous place. And if this Wookiee is dangerous, I’m going to need help subduing him. Maybe not killing if I don’t have to, but I need someone who can help me fight a Wookiee. And I love them both, but Mission and Carth are not the people to do that. Mission’s got spunk and she’s a spitfire, but she’s just fifteen and if she gets hurt I’d never forgive myself. And Carth is an amazing shot and he’s quick on his feet, but he’s my Bunny Man and he is too soft to face a Wookiee who may or may not be as crazy as Chuundar says. Sometimes you need brute strength. I need a Mandalorian. I need Canderous. As for a melee, the practical side of me wants to bring Juhani. But the romantic in me says Bastila is the way to go. After all, Canderous thinks she’s attractive, Bastila thinks he’s attractive. Life goes on, and I really think those two would be good for each other. Canderous needs to be softened a bit, and Bastila needs to see that love isn’t the path to hell.

By the time I’ve thought all this out, we’re back on the Great Walkway halfway between the basket to the Shadowlands and the Czerka dock. I stop, letting my train of thought finish itself.

“Rena?” Carth asks, “Something up?”

I pause. “Yeah, I think we should head back to the ship really quick. Before heading down to the Shadowlands, I think I want to bring Canderous and Bastila.”

“Are you trying to get them to admit their love for each other?” Mission asks. I guess she wants to get her mind off Zaalbar. 

“Well, yes, but!” I say, “I have no idea what I’ll run into down there other than a supposedly crazed Wookiee. Do either of you think you could match the strength of a Wookiee?”

“I know I can’t,” Mission says with certainty.

“Neither can I,” Carth admits, “But the Mandalorian could certainly give him a run for his money.”

“My thoughts exactly,” I say, “And yes, Bastila because I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“You seem very sure of your ability to overcome Bastila’s Jedi inhibitions,” Carth says, smiling. 

“She already told me she thinks he’s attractive, so at this point it’s just --”

“SHE WHAT!” Mission shrieks, “When did she do that?”

Oh damn. “On Tatooine,” I say, “She told me in confidence, though, keep it to yourself.” Really hope I haven’t betrayed Bastila’s trust too much.

[little-inkstone]

A Spark of Trouble

Prompt/Mythical Creature: Ifrit

Summery:  Rumplestiltskin makes a deal he doesn’t fully understand, and it leads to nothing but trouble.

Rating: NC-17

AN: Hi, @ishtarelisheba!!!  I was your Zookeeper this year!  I’m sorry tumblr ate so many of my messages, but I really liked getting to know you and I hope we can keep talking!  Written for the @maydaymenagerie event.

Wearing leather in a hot climate was a mistake, even for someone with as much magic at his deposal as Rumplestiltskin.  He could keep himself relatively cool, but the air was stifling in its stillness and the sun beat down unceasingly as he walked through the desert sands.  Thanks to the powerful magical wards around the town he was heading towards he couldn’t just appear in a cloud of smoke as he usually would.  It wasn’t impossible for him to do so; it would just be a pain and would do nothing but annoy his host.  In most cases he would enjoy having the upper hand and rankling the person he was going to make a deal with.  That was not the case in this instance.

He was getting ready to come to an agreement with the chief of the ifrit, a proud and stubborn people that were known for both their fire magic and fierier tempers.  As much as it irked him he couldn’t simply take what he wanted, it needed to be freely given to him or it would be useless for his purposes.  The water the ifrit drank from was said to be enchanted, sparkling and clean no matter what, it was symbol of calm guarded by a people known for the opposite.  His future sight had made it clear that he needed some of that water, a flask full would do, but it would be plain water without the permission of the chief.

It was lucky for him that the leader of the ifrit was looking to make a deal and had called for him.

Stopping, Rumple found himself standing in front of several rocks haphazardly sticking out of the sand dunes.  He studied the rocks, finding a symbol scratched into the stone.  Pressing his hand to it he whispered an ancient word and the stone before him turned to dust, revealing a winding passage the led deep underground.

A taller man would have needed to duck down to enter the cave, but Rumple simply walked in, unable to hold back a gleeful twitter as he neared his prize.  The steep stone stairs cut a winding path through the red rock, but soon it opened up to a large cavern with a high ceiling where glowing rocks formed a faux sky.  It was a rather beautiful sight, but not the reason he had made his journey.  He walked along the streets, careful to hide himself so that none of the ifrit he passed would pay him any mind.  With his scales covered by an old cloak he seemed like just another citizen.  Since they had two forms, one that was almost human in appearance and another that was made for battle, with grand wings and flaming claws.

The ifrit weren’t hiding, but they weren’t advertising their location either, making it this far would have been difficult for a normal man.  So Rumplestiltskin was amused and surprised to find a human in a chalk ring facing off against a young ifrit warrior once he made it to the center of the city where the chief made his home.  Townsfolk were gathered around, cheering and booing in turn.  Rumple watched as the battling ifrit took to the air, her large wings easily lifting her lithe frame high above the human man.

He smirked to himself, realizing what she was doing before her opponent had a chance.  She dropped down like a rock and then swerved before she hit the ground, kicking out and pushing the man from the ring with ease.  The crowd burst into applause as the man rubbed his chest and swore, standing and stalking off.  Rumple paid him no mind, his gaze fixed on the ifrit woman as she walked to the side of unhappy looking ifrit man.  She smiled at him and he sighed and shook his head.  At this Rumplestiltskin became more intrigued.  He could tell from the way he held himself and how he dressed that this was the chief he was looking for; and it seemed he wasn’t happy with the pretty ifrit that had just bested one of their guests.

Stepping away from the crowd the sorcerer began to clap loudly, drowning out and silencing the other applause until only his could be heard, he dropped his shawl with a twitter “That was quite the performance.”  He said to the girl, and then turned to the Lord.  “You’re majesty.”  He chirped with a low and showy bow.  “I believe you wished to make a deal?”  To his credit the leader of the ifrits composed himself quickly and nodded.

“Yes.”  He replied.  “I’m glad you answered my call, Rumplestiltskin.”

“How could I not?” Rumple cooed.  “It’s not every day that Lord Maurice, chieftain of the illusive ifrit calls on an outsider.”  Steepling his hands he smirked at the leader.  “But magic always comes with a price, dearie.”

“Name it and it will be yours.”  The chief said easily.  “We have gold and jewels to spare, take as much treasure as you wish.”

Rumplestiltskin giggled and danced closer to him.  “Oh no, no, no, dearie, I can spin straw into gold and pluck jewels from the air, what I’m after is something much more precious.”  He purred.

Lord Maurice’s eyes narrowed; the muscle in his jaw tensing.  The previously cool air of the cave began to warm as the two of them stared each other down, neither blinking.  Finally Maurice looked away at the ifrit girl still beside him; her form had not changed from that of a warrior.  Rumple wondered who she was.  A bodyguard perhaps?  He banished the thought.  It didn’t matter who she was, so long as she didn’t stand in his way of getting the spring’s water.

“What is it you want?”  He asked, letting out a defeated sigh, his shoulders sagging heavily.

“Some of the water from your sacred spring, not too much, a barrelful shall do I think.” Rumple casually replied.  That was much more then he needed, but this kind of potent magic was useful to have on hand and it would be foolish to bargain for the amount he really needed.  The chief was silent for a long moment and then he nodded and snapped his fingers, two guards that had been off to the side immediately stood to attention.

“Collect a barrel of water for our guest.”  Then he returned his sharp blue eyes to the dealmaker before him.  “You’ll receive your payment once you’ve completed the deal.” He told him.

“Of course.” Rumple purred, trying to hold back how pleased he was, anything this fool asked of him would be easy to do. “What is it you want?  Long life?  Victory over your enemies?  Love?”  He said the last word mockingly, a sneer pulling at his lips.  So many times he had made a deal with a lord for those things; over the years, no matter their race or creed, people were predictable.

“I want you to find a man that can best my Belle in combat.”  The chief said instead, gesturing to the warrior beside him.

Rumplestiltskin kept himself from reacting, but he was mildly surprised, he hadn’t been expecting that when the chief had written to him.  His letter had made it seem as if his whole dynasty hung by a thread. He turned his reptilian gaze to the ifrit girl, wondering again who she was.  She didn’t seem surprised by her chief’s deal, but she did seem perturbed by it. A frown pulled at her plush lips and her eyes, a bright blue like the leaders, were clouded with unease; a relative then, most likely a daughter.  For some reason the chief’s daughter needed to be defeated in combat, so much so that her father would call upon the Dark One.

“Then it seems the spring water is as good as mine.”  He giggled with a wave of his hand.

“Do not think I will be so easily bested.”  The girl, Belle, replied, her eyes flashing.  She drew herself up to her full height to stare him down, and for once in his life he found himself taller than someone trying to intimidate him. Dark One’s didn’t use words like ‘adorable’ but that seemed to be the only appropriate one for this instance.

Smirking he took her in.  She, like the other ifrit, had a fire about her, but it was more than just the elusive flames that licked at her hands while she stared him down.  Her eyes were alight with a blaze bourn from confidence and awareness of one’s own abilities.  The set of her jaw was stubborn but it only enhanced her charming appearance.  The form she had taken on was suited for battle; with wings and horns and the subtle shimmer of scales along her cheekbones and bare arms; but he admitted that she was still beautiful.

“We shall see.” Rumple replied simply, stepping into the chalk circle.  “Let’s get this over with; I have many more deals to attend to.”

“You’re doing to fight me yourself?”  Belle asked, her eyes widening as she followed him into the circle.

“If there’s no objection from the chief?”  Maurice nodded and Rumplestiltskin turned to Belle and let out a childish laugh.  “It seems not, then let us begin, dearie.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, turning to face him fully.  “I won’t be gentle.”

“Perish the thought!”  Rumple mocked, pressing his hand to his chest and looking away as if he were offended.

Belle let out an annoyed huff and then lunged forward.  He didn’t move, watching her sprint towards him and then fly into the air, her wings outstretched as she hung there for a moment and then began her dive.  How predictable.  Rumple smirked, and with a flick of his wrist the young ifrit warrior went flying through the air and landed not too far from where he stood. She got to her feet and glared at him, then blanched when she realized she was out of the ring.  He'd won.

“You beat me.” She whispered looking down at the chalk mark in the dirt, of which she was on the wrong side.  Rumplestiltskin watched as her horns and wings melted away, leaving a very human looking woman behind, if it was possible she was even more stunning then before.  Belle shook her head and looked up at him.  “A deals a deal; you can have the water, and my hand in marriage.”

It was Rumple’s turn for his eyes to widen, all his years of keeping his true emotions hidden while on deals leaving him as he heard her speak.

“Pardon me?” He squeaked, he must have heard her wrong.

“My hand, in marriage, that’s what you’ve won by beating me, no one could so my father called for you to make a deal.  Didn’t… didn’t you know that when you challenged me?”  She asked, tilting her head to the side, intrigue filling her blue eyes.

“No, I didn’t, and I won’t marry you, I’ve up held my end of the deal, I’ve found a man that can beat you in combat.  Now I shall be taking my water and leaving.”  Rumple snapped, ignoring that he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat.

“If you don’t marry her you can’t have the water.”  Maurice growled from the sidelines.

“Papa,”  Belle admonished, turning away from a still shocked Rumple.  “He’s right, he upheld the deal as he understood it, and he doesn’t wish to marry me, you can’t force us.”

“You said you would marry the man that can best you, I have found one, and if he wishes to claim his prized water then he will accept your hand.”  The chief growled.

As the two ifrits argued Rumple’s mind raced.  He needed that water to find Bae, without it more years would slip through his fingers. It had already been so long, there was no telling if he’d find a boy or a man or a grave when he crossed to the Land Without Magic.  Desperation and fear clawed at his heart, reminding him of what he had been before the curse, before the Dark One, if he didn’t get this water now everything would have been for naught.

“I’ll do it.” He said, cutting them off, his voice deeper and more human than it had been in a long time.  Maurice smiled in satisfaction and nodded, but Belle just looked at him, her head tilted to the side again.  “If you’ll have me, that is.”  Rumplestiltskin added, giving her his nastiest smile, showing off his curse yellowed teeth.

He watched her lick her lips and then nod, replying almost breathlessly.  “Yes, I’ll have you.”

“Then the deal is struck!”  He crowed with fake cheer, clapping his hands together.

It was clear that Lord Maurice had been waiting to marry of his daughter for quite a while, since almost as soon as Rumplestiltskin agreed he found himself attending his own wedding.  An Ifrit wedding was different then the kind he and Milah had as poor peasants in the Frontlands.  Of course there was singing and dancing and feasting, wine flowed freely, but the vows were different and the pledge they swore to each other made him worry about the kind of deal he had made.

Belle was to live with him, but someday she would rule the ifrit’s and on that day they’d have to return.  He was sure when the time came she’d be glad to be rid of her husband in name alone, considering she didn’t seem too enthusiastic about their wedding either. While they held hands for their binding her palms began to heat, at first he thought it was on purpose, some kind of ritual, or perhaps she was punishing him for getting them into this mess, but when he looked into her eyes he could see only nervousness, there was no ill intent there.

That didn’t help him when his hand began to burn, and certainly not when it became so much that he let out a surprised yelp and pulled his hand away from hers.  She had just finished her vows, so they no longer needed to touch, but the flare that had come with the last word had been too much, even for his skin protected by magic.  If her apology hadn’t been so sincere and the worry in her eyes so clear he might have thought she was trying to burn her new husband to ash.  Rumple had heard stranger stories of wives on the day of their weddings doing things to get out of marrying men they had been forced to accept.

When they were prompted to kiss to seal their marriage Rumple swallowed thickly and leaned towards her, watching for any sign of revulsion or hesitation.  But Belle’s blue, blue, eyes were still filled with only curiosity, and then nothing as she closed them when their lips met. Everything, it seemed, about his new bride was warm, her hands had almost burned him and now it felt as if he was playing with fire when he kissed her.  She didn’t look at him as others did when faced with the Dark One, there was no fear or terror, and he was sure had he ever been forced to marry one of the other woman he’d met in his dealings they’d have fainted dead away rather than lock lips with him.  It was heady having someone that didn’t react in such a way after so many centuries of being alone.

As Rumplestiltskin pulled away and looked down at his new bride, her eyes opening, a surprised smile pulling at her lips, he knew he was in trouble.

That thought was confirmed later that night when the feasting and dancing had begun to die down and the marry ifrit were finding their beds.  Rumple intended to return home long before this time, but the chief had kept a close eye on him and he’d been stuck sitting at the grand table filled with food, unable to leave without his prized spring water.  Belle had sat beside him, and tried to pull as many secrets as she could from him, asking what the home they’d be sharing was like and if he would allow her to travel.  Now she wasn’t plying him for words, but rather leading him to her room, the strong wine having gone to both their heads.

He didn’t intend on having a wedding night with his new bride.  This was a marriage for the water, for his Baelfire; there was no need to consummate it.  He’d told her so as she lead him along the halls, the sky rocks having dimmed to a soft blue that mimicked a night filled with stars and the full moon.  In this lighting Belle was even prettier than before, and his addled mind thought he should tell her, but he kept the words to himself.  He wasn’t so drunk that he’d begin spouting poetry.

“If you don’t want me we don’t have to do anything.”  She whispered, her hand never leaving his.  “But we’re both tired and it wouldn’t do for you to sleep somewhere that wasn’t my room.”

Nodding mutely he followed her until they came to their destination.  She let out a tired sigh and released his hand, moving to change into a silk nightgown behind a screen.  Rumple stood awkwardly in the room, looking for a place he could rest, the Dark One didn’t technically need sleep, but sometimes he indulged in it. This was one of the rare nights when he wished to do so, if nothing else then to not have to deal with the effects of the wine in his system.  He watched her move to the large bed and climb in, she looked over at him, still awkwardly standing by the door and she silently patted the mattress beside her.

“I’m not interested in laying with you, dearie.”  He croaked, the words coming out less menacing and more nervous than intended.

“I know, and I thank you for it, but you need to rest and the bed is big enough for two.” Belle patted the bed again and he had to admit it looked inviting after such a long day.  Rumplestiltskin settled beside her in the bed and magicked away his leather, feeling soft cotton wrap around his body as he closed his eyes. “Good night, Rumplestiltskin.”  He heard her whisper in the darkened room and for some odd reason it made him smile.

“Good night, Belle.” He slurred back, letting sleep take him almost as soon as the words were out.

There was something warm and soft pressed against him when his eyes blinked open.  He was confused for a moment, wondering what it could possibly be.  Then the day before came back to him and he couldn’t have moved faster even with magic aiding him as he almost jumped out of bed.  His bride, and wasn’t that a terrible unexpected turn of events, let out a soft mewl in her sleep and rolled to face him, chasing his warmth.  Rumple swallowed thickly as she wrapped one of her arms around him and let out a sigh, she was even more beautiful then he realized, her face softened by sleep.

The curse bound to his soul whispered in his ear that she was his wife, and thus she was free for the taking.  Shaking his head he pushed that thought away and gently tried to remove Belle’s arm from around his waist, almost biting his tongue when her leg brushed against the straining flesh between his legs.  He froze; terrified she’d wake up, but when she didn’t he let out a breath.  He free himself, find some privacy and either take care of his morning problem or simply will it away, no need for anyone to know about how he had woken up this morning.  All his plans were for naught however when he looked back at Belle’s face only to find her eyes open, those blue depths studying him.

“Good morning.” She smiled, sitting up and removing her arm.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.”  He admitted, trying to cover his lap without being too obvious about it.

His movement drew her eye and he saw the moment she realized what was happening.  He closed his eyes and waited for her ire, sure that she would but horrified by his arousal.  Instead he all but jumped out of his skin when she reached out and touched his cheek, his eyes popping open to look at her.  She was smiling again and pretty blush on her cheeks that set off her pale complexion perfectly.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me.” She whispered.

“How could anyone not?”  He replied, the words leaving him without his permission.  He could admit he found her attractive from the moment he’d seen her, her monstrous continence doing nothing to hide her beauty.

She leaned in and captured his lips with hers, taking him by surprise.  His eyes slipped closed and he let out a groan.  This had to be some kind of trick, no one could ever want him or love him, but Belle hadn’t said anything about love, she was simply kissing him.  Perhaps it was presumptuous to assume the two were linked.  Soon he couldn’t think clearly, his self-hatred pushed to the side as their kiss deepened, his hands wandering along her body.  She was so warm against him as they moved together, and before he knew it she’d gotten his sleeping shirt off of him.  He was expecting a gasp or her censure but instead she ran her hand along his chest, blushing when her fingers stopped short of his straining cock resting against his stomach.

“I’ve never seen a man like this before.”  She told him, and he had to laugh.

“I’m not a man, dearest.”  He replied and she looked up at him and tilted her head to the side and bit her lower lip.

“You look like a man to me.”  Belle countered.

Before he could argue the point she leaned in and kissed him again, only pulling back to remove her own sleeping gown and then returned to his lips.  Now that they were skin to skin he could feel how truly soft she was, how her body moulded to his perfectly.  He kissed along her neck as they moved to lay down, leaving kisses along her shoulders and then down to her breasts, she let out a whimper as he circled the puckered nipple with the tip of his tongue.  He felt his cock twitch as he took her firm pert breast into mouth, her moans driving wild.  His hand move to take care of her neglected breast and then switched, making sure to pay each other them equal attention.

“This is crazy.” Rumple panted between kisses.  “We hardly know each other, how can you want me?” He asked.

Belle licked her lips and spread her legs, her eyes closed in bliss.  “How can I not want you?”  She panted back.  “And it’s so odd, but I feel as if you know you better then I should, but not at all, d-do you understand?”  She moaned.

He nodded and kissed her soft belly, he did understand, something about Belle’s eyes called to him, they pulled at his soul like he should know her, like he should recognize who she was.  Rumple had heard of things like that before, of connections with people you’d never known but somehow knew so well.  But he pushed those swirling thoughts away, the Dark One had no soul mate, he was simply slacking his lust.  Redoubling his efforts to block out the swelling in his chest he kissed the inside of each of her thighs and Belle let out a surprised squeak.

Smirking he blew against her wet curls and enjoyed the shudder that ran through her. Leaning in he licked her slit and then pushed his tongue into her folds, finding the nub he knew would make her see stars and begin to play with her.  He moved down to kiss her entrance, swirling his tongue around and making sure his nose was rubbing her clit.  Rumple could feel Belle tense under him and he moved to suck on her harder.  Her hands pulled at his hair as she let out a scream and he groaned and kept lapping at her, gentling her through her pleasure.

Moving his way back up her body her followed the trail he’d taken down in reverse, placing gentle kisses in seemingly random spots.  She nuzzled him and gently pecked his lips; she looked at him her eyes filled with more than just lust as she smiled.  Belle spread her legs once more and he rested there, she took him in hand and he bit back a whimper.  Rumple and Belle worked together as he slowly began to push into her, Belle gasped his name, her nails biting into his shoulders and he was lost.

“Belle!” Rumple whispered.  Something deep inside him, lonely and broken, began to mend as they held each other.

They shared a kiss and rubbed their noses together.  As he slowly began to move, finding a slow deep rhythm that they both enjoyed.  He watched Belle’s face as she gasped and panted beneath him, her eyes never leaving his as they shared a breath, her legs moved to wrap around his hips and he felt himself sink even deeper into her.  His pace began to increase, feeling that his end was near, but he couldn’t come just yet.  Rumple wanted to see Belle one more time, he wanted to see her and feel her as she came from his touch.  Grinding against her with each thrust he heard Belle’s breathy moans become sharper and higher pitched as he made sure to rub her clit with his pubic bone.

She came with a loud gasp, her inner muscles tightening around him.  Rumplestiltskin let out a roar, feeling Belle’s heat around him as she came was too much as he saw lights burst behind his eyes as he experienced bone deep contentment for the first time in decades, probably even longer.  He fell to the side so as not to crush her, and Belle wrapped her arms around him and sighed in contentment.  He ran his hand along her back and let his eyes drift closed.  Rumple had been right, this was trouble, Belle was trouble, but, he thought, the best kind of trouble.