#the hootsman (mentioned)

[jazzapples3]

Interesting points from the gloryhammer timeline:

Ralathor was born in the terrorvortex dimension. Some years after the events of terrorvortex he travels to the main dimension many years before 992AD and hides out.

The Ralathor who leads Angus 1 through the dwarven tunnels in Tales is the Ralathor from Return who traveled back in time to show Angus the way. At some point there was Double Hermit in the main timeline.

The Forbidden Scrolls of Anstruther are a Thing. These are what Zargles read from before he made his pact with Chaos. I'm assuming thats where the prophecy was written.

Hootsman in the terrorvortex dimension predates the arrival of thr Starlords. Were the Starlords even present in the terrorvortex dimension?

There are two hanging plot threads where things can go atm. Obs there is the end kf Return with Angus 2 hanging out in the multiverse but there is also Angus 5 (from Fly Away) who goes through an dimensional gate to 1993 main timeline to do REDACTED. Maybe a future album?

As the Cairngorm wizards forsaw the nuclear apocalypse, was that the battle mentioned in Wizards! ?

I'm guessing Ralathor prime is still chilling somewhere in the main timeline after 1992?

[spackeets-written-madness]

Discussion over Tea

After Angus McFife XIII told Ralathor about the dragon he met that helped him find his hammer, the hermit thought to pay this dragon a visit himself.

On Ao3!

Disclaimer: This is not a full sequal to Magic Dragon of Storms. It has a similar plot and elements to it though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ralathor was bored. Bored enough to be staring at the wall contemplating the answer to life, the universe and everything. So far he got forty-two and he figured that if he stared for longer, he’d get the question.

Suddenly something exploded in one of the rooms of his cave which sent him across the hall to go check on it. When he entered his alchemy room, he was a bit surprised to find the walls, table and a small part of the floor charred, bits of glass scattered about the room from many jars that were caught in the blast radius from whatever exploded. He stepped over the larger bits of glass, his cloak brushing over the remains with an audible noise of glass moving over stone. He paid it no mind as he walked to the charred table, looking for the offender of the explosion.

He looked around on the table and found the source of the explosion. It was the golden scale of a thunder dragon. A thunder dragon that Angus had befriended when he lost his hammer a week ago and brought back a ‘small’ scale that fell off the dragon for Ralathor. The hermit picked up the scale - about the size of his hand - and ended up giving himself a bit of a shock as the scale turned out to still have a strong charge.

After the shock went down his spine with a shudder, the hermit reflexively shivered after the electricity passed. “Ah… That wasn’t pleasant,” he mused nonchalantly as he inspected the magical golden scale. How intriguing, unlike the lost scales of the native dragons here, this species’s scales keep their magical properties. He looked at the mess again, no doubt the scale had a build-up of energy from being put in the jar so discharged it.

Ralathor found a shed sky dragon scale amidst the destruction and compared it against the golden one, the differences were apparent, apparent enough that even a peasant would tell the difference between if they were laid out in front of them. The sky dragon scale was like an arrowhead, and there was an outgrowth on the scale that would stick into the skin, much like the feather of a bird. On the underside of the scale was a thin fluff that when the dragon ‘raised’ its scales, it’d cause the fluff to fill in the gaps and make the dragon warmer. The colouration of the scale was also a dull blue with a small light spot on the tip. The golden scale, on the other hand, was not only an iridescent gold that caught the light from the torches on his walls and made a bright point on the opposite wall, but it was also exactly like a fish’s scale: crescent-shaped almost and sits a bit on the form of the skin rather than in it. The entire scale also felt strangely velvety to the touch and it was definitely still seeped in magic from the dragon, unlike the sky dragon scale which lost its more obvious magical potency a long time ago.

The hermit pursed his lips under his hood with a clear idea to test something. He touched the golden scale to the sky dragon scale to see if it might ‘charge’ the dead scale.

Ralathor had to quickly dip his head down far enough so that he didn’t lose an eye from the sky dragon scale exploding upon being touched with the other scale. “This is new,” he mused to himself lowly as he looked in his left hand where the other scale was before it got vaporized. “So that didn’t have the results that I was expecting, but I got results,” he further said to himself, looking at the scale.

He set the scale down in a rubber-lined container he found after a small moment of searching, then waved a hand to clean up the mess, the minor time spell reverted the mess in the room, putting the jars and their contents back on the table and the charr from the wall and ceiling was removed. With the spell, everything was as it was before, except that the golden scale was no longer in the repaired jar were it once was. 

The hermit made a noise in the back of his throat as he walked out of the room. “And Proletius says magic isn’t useful.” He walked down the corridor silently and habitually turned left into another room.

This room - or well, another part of the caves he lives in that he converted into a room - had a bunch of shelves that were acquired from the Citadel of Dundee (they were getting thrown out anyway, he simply gave them a new home), which had a bunch of books in them and around them in stacks. 

“Hm, I really need to organise this room,” Ralathor muttered to himself as he stepped over a book. He then looked at the tomes that were stacked orderly on one of the bookshelves. “Now...where did I put that book?” The hermit reached up and grabbed a book titled Scottish Dragon Breeds and Species by Ernest Drake, took one glance at the title and put it back. He reached up a shelf higher and grabbed the next book and reading it. “Dragons & Drakes of Europe: A Dragonhunter’s guide by Beowolf, nope, that’s not it either.” He puts that one back too.

Ralathor then starts to look at the stacks of books on the floor, seeing if he had it and muttering to himself again, “I know have it, so where did I put the blasted thing? I really need to organise this room sometime.” He reads the spines of each book he came across, searching for the book he came here for. After not finding what he was looking for in that stack he looks through the next one, then the next one, then the next one.

He was on the last stack when he finally found what he was looking for and pulled it out from the stack, causing the book tower to fall. “Ha, knew I had it, Dragons of the East by an unknown author. Now, time to find out what species this mystery dragon is, and judging from Angus’s description, they are clearly a serpent, just need to find out what kind,” he continued to mutter to himself, not thinking fully on the words he was saying before he said them. Ralathor opened the book and began to leaf through the book, muttering what Angus told him as he looked for the right dragon. “Iridescent golden scales, spines, a single set of whiskers, curved deer-like horns, slender face, thick mane, three toes on each foot, the hands had a thumb. I must say I'm impressed with how preceptive the Prince is getting in taking in the looks of potential enemies, very impressed,” he continued to speak to himself in a low voice.

The hermit flicked through the pages, skimming over the description of the dragons as he did so until he landed on a promising page. “Cloudwalker...Hmm, let’s see, ‘this species of wyrm has fish-like scales, thick mane, fur on the tail which can often grow on other parts of the body, another breed of this species can grow fur all over their body that comes off the fish-like scales.’ Fascinating… And it says here that Cloudwalkers have three toes on all four feet like Ryus but the third toe on the front legs is a thumb. Seems the Prince’s new friend is a Cloudwalker,” he said, slightly louder to himself as he read the passages. 

He scanned the page further and stopped at a passage, reading it aloud to himself, “‘Clouwalkers love knowledge like most other eastern wyrms, but they particularly enjoy stories: fact or fiction, and they often don’t care if the story has a lesson or not, they just enjoy listening to stories and sharing their own.’ How fascinating, hmmm, I should have some books I’m willing to part with, ones that are still in print that is. Hm? Cloudwalkers also have a bit more obvious difference in the sexes: males have beards and straighter horns, females don’t have beards and curved horns. Well...if you know what those differences are.” He shut the book and put it on the shelf next to the other dragon books.

Ralathor then looked around the room. “Well, suppose I should clean up while looking for books I can part with before I go pay this dragon a visit myself,” he said to himself again and got to work organizing his shelves. (Which may or may not have involved doing magic to make it faster.) While he cleaned up, he found five books that he could easily source copies of (plus one he wrote himself.) After he packed them up into a bag, he teleported himself to the bottom of the same peak Angus found the golden serpent of storms.

When he appeared on the rocky path (or rather, lack there-of) he looked around until he saw a way up and began to make his way upwards. Ralathor walked and climbed up the rocks, using a few spells to stay climbing and not fall to his death. 

Angus said that he had climbed until his vision of the horizon was blocked by clouds that had suddenly rolled in. Ralathor paused and looked around, no clouds yet so he’s not far enough for the dragon to consider showing themself. He grunts and continues climbing over rocks and trying not to slip on loose pebbles.

After several minutes with no change in the cloud cover, he had gotten to the top of the peek. There was also no dragon either. Ralathor looked around but still found no trace of them. He huffed in annoyance, “No dragon, that doesn’t surprise me, cloudwalkers fly by magic rather than wings, they’re probably long gone by now.” He mused to himself. The hermit looked around one last time - even looking up this time - and after confirming that there is no giant golden serpent he faced the way he came and began to climb back down.

“You know, it’s very amusing watching a spell-caster climb up a mountain, nearly fall off thrice on the way up, get to their destination and upon realising that the creature they were looking for wasn’t there, promptly give up and go home,” an amused voice said above him suddenly, causing him to slip and fall while he was on a precarious ledge.

Once he got secured back on the ledge he was standing on, he looked at the long golden face of the dragon in annoyance. “Could have chosen a better time to reveal yourself? Like, when I was on a more secure area?” he asked calmly while he looked over their - her - face which lacked a beard and had curved horns. 

She grinned at him. “You were fine. I had watched you use some spells to prevent you from falling earlier,” she said, angling her head more forward a bit to look at him easier, centring him in between her eyes, in front of her long nose.

“Well, yes, I was. Doesn’t make it any less irritating,” he said. “Didn’t know that we had a Cloudwalker here,” he commented as he ducked under her massive head to climb back up to the peak so that he isn’t hanging on for dear life on a cat-walk.

“It only took ten centuries for you to realise that I was here and that was because Angus the thirteenth was missing his hammer and I decided to help,” she replied as she followed Ralathor and settled on the small ledge above where he sat and set up a tea tray that he teleported to the ledge from his home.

Ralathor looked at her from underneath his hood. “You’ve been here for ten centuries? Why did you come here in the first place? It’s a bit far from your home,” he commented while he poured the tea for both him and the dragon.

“My home always felt less my home, so I left it. After of course I avenged my dead mate and took my eggs back from the bastards that took them, and flew until I came across this island and settled here. After the sealing of Zargothraz mind you,” she answered, looking at the tea being poured. She set a forepaw down gently in front of the table and focused, the next thing was the dragon turning into an adult female woman of eastern origin who sat down opposite to Ralathor.

Ralathor blinked as he watched her transform into the rather perfect form of a human. “I see. And your whelps? Where are they?” he asked while he offered her the cup of tea he poured.

She took it from him. “Where I came from originally. Once a year they come to visit me,” she answered with a sip from her cup.

Ralathor sipped his tea then prepared to ask another question, “How -”

“I will ask you a question myself before you ask another of me,” she interrupted. “Who are you to come up here in search of me and ask these questions?” she asked while she held Ralathor in a steady glare.

“Ralathor, hermit of Cowdenbeath, ally and friend to Angus McFife the thirteenth. He was the one to tell Proletius and me who helped him find the hammer of Glory,” Ralathor answered.

She took a sip from her cup. “And what made you come up to me?”

“I had not realised that we had a dragon that is from a generally much friendlier species on our land until the prince ran into you,” he answered.

The dragon disguised as a human takes a pause to pour herself more tea. “So besides coming up to this peak, interrupting my sunbathing and asking me questions without even introducing yourself first, what are you doing here?” she asked, then, with an amused look commented, “I dare say that the prince had better manners.”

Ralathor ignored the comment as he took out the books he had packed. “I had read that you guys like knowledge - and even simple stories - so I scoured these books out from my personal library for you as sort of a welcome to Fife,” he said. The hermit then smiled under his hood. “Though I appear to be ten centuries late.”

She gave a laugh at the joke as she picked up one of the books and read the title, “‘Tales From the Kingdom of Fife’?” She looked up at him.

The hermit nods and opened his mouth, speaking softly, “What happened during Angus McFife the first’s reign ten centuries ago, the other books are different stories.”

The dragon looked through the offered books and set them down next to her. “Thank you. I had heard bits and pieces of the Zargothrax story, but having the full story at hand is great,” she commented.

Ralathor nodded and sipped his tea, falling into silence. The silence only passed for a minute before the hermit spoke up. “So who are you?” he asked, looking at the dragon in human form.

She leans back slightly, tilting her head up at the sky. “Hmm, I am Xiongwei Huoyan… But if that’s too hard for you to say, I currently go by as ‘Astrid’,” she said and her form shifted to that of a local and she looks at Ralathor.

Now that caught the hermit by surprise and he widened his eyes in shock, almost dropping his tea. “So that’s how you stayed hidden for ten centuries!” he exclaimed, only slightly louder than how he usually talked. “Your name is not hard for me to say, different, but not hard, Xiongwei Huoyan,” he added.

“Please, call me Xiongwei to at least make it easier on yourself if you wish to call me by name,” Xiongwei said, still remaining in the form as one of the locals of Fife.

“Impressive forms by the way, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a human,” Ralathor commented.

Xiongwei gave Ralthor what could be described as a ‘shit-eating grin’. “I’ve practised my polymorphing quite avidly over the years. I’m adept at transforming into many forms,” she answered, taking a sip of her tea.

The hermit gave a small nod. “It paid off,” he commented, finishing off his tea he got up. “Well, I should go, let the other two know you’re not a threat. I hold no responsibility if Hootsman and Ser Proletius come up to say hi,” he said calmly and quietly.

“Farewell, Ralathor, hermit of Cowdenbeath and tell Angus that I said hello,” she said, setting her own empty cup down. She grabbed the books and transformed back into her dragon form, settling back down on the rocks.

Ralathor teleported the tea set away and faced the way down, he paused, looking up at the large golden dragon, already reading one of the books. He looks back at the path down - and teleports to the bottom of the bottom. When his bearings took in the sudden change of scenery, he swore he heard laughing on the wind that floated down from the peaks. He looked up and glared, he then focused again and teleported away again.

[chaotic-neutral-wizard]

Day 28: something you find representative of a character

-> the hammer of Angus

-> big hoods on Zargothrax

-> the beard of Hootsman

-> Proletius says mighty indeed a lot

-> Ralathor arrives at last moment and saves every one

[blastedking]

State of the Kingdom - April 2021

Comic

Well - story and dialog for ULFIII is as good as done now, the first character design tests and colours are through too. So far I’m on schedule with that one. I hope to have the thumbnails done till the end of April and sketches in Mai. Hopefully. 

I’m thankful for the warm reception of ULFII so far <3 And I’m excited because we’re now very close for the “conflict” of this one to kick in. It’s a fun one. Not so much fun for our beloved Hootsman, mind you, but still. :'D

Fanfiction

Wizard of Cowdenbeath will be done soon, at the end of May. The next one after WoC - Kilchoan - is basically done, Covers inclusive. WoC and Kilchoan really belong together, so they will probably be posted back to back.

Kilchoan - is, as anyone who’s been reading WoC so far can probably guess with how aggressively often I mention that one, about that very battle at Kilchoan with Zargothrax and Ralathor. That one is a deep dive into “what even be wizards and soldiers” with no uncertain terms really. About time. It currently sits at 10 Chapters with a total of 31k words. 

It’s the last jump into the past for now, with the next story after that we return to more recent happenings in the universe. But this one is an important one too. 

I’m currently writing on the next one - which as I said brings us back into the current time - It’s another Ralathor thing, but that one will branch off into some other stuff. I hope to have that one done in September… but we’ll see. 

Art

Art wise I’m currently tearing my hair out because I’m struggling very hard with anatomy. BUT I take that as a sign of getting better...if only I can figure out how to fix it. It’s been a bit frustrating I admit. 

The Sunday post is currently safe till August, so nothing is going to change there. I got one pic for @uupiic​ their Reverse AU and one for @cardinalxsin​ fic Southern California Dream in the queue, the one for the Reverse AU is for this sunday. Finally, that's been hanging in the queue for a while.

There are a few OC-Wizards in the queue too - but at this point, can you fault me for that really? 

Besides that - a worrying amount of Zargothrax (surprise), but the others too - and with the ULFII test art even some Proletius coming in July.

There is a lot on my to-draw list - and I’m just not getting to it. 

Personal

I’m usually not one to speak much of these things, publicly even less, but as I’ve been a bit more involved for a while, my current state of mind does make me a bit self-conscious. I’ve been very tired for a month now, maybe longer, and not very talkative - even less than usual. There are many things I want to do, many things to read and interact with, but I’m currently unable to find the headspace for most of it. I’m not particularly stressed, not more than usual, even though my focus right now is stretching thin across about five different things with work, school and hobbies, I’m just constantly tired. Maybe springtime lethargy I guess.

However, of course thank you to everyone who's been sticking around, big hello to the new folks!  💖✨👑

[idonthaveanaccent]

Just a little rambling and then a few bands I really like and you should totally check out, so expand it if you wanna see them :)

I know this isn’t a normal update, I just have to talk about this with someone.

Music is a vital part of everyday life for me. Everything I do has a backtrack. If I’m not watching a show in my room, I have to have music playing. When I write I have headphones in, blasting music, like right now. To go to sleep and sleep easily I have to play music, ever since I was young I’ve done it. I can’t remember not falling asleep without music playing. Music even helps inspire what I write. 

Point is, I love music. 

However, I am extremely uncomfortable with sharing my music. My freshman year I was made fun of the type of music I listen to, which has evolved a bit in the 3-4 years since that time, however it hasn’t ventured too far. 

When I was eleven my parents gave me a windows phone with no sim card, but it had a music app. They downloaded a bunch of child friendly songs and it was the first time I could control what I listened to. Before I had an old MP3 which was filled with Disney songs, Anamaniacs tunes, and ABBA’s Golden Hits. I can sing all them by heart, dances are a fun time for me. Now, I could look up songs. 

My best friend was into the alternative scene as her sister is six years older than us and as such had a more ‘adult’ music sense. She introduced me to the classic bands, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! At the Disco, etc. I loved their music, we’d listen to it on the bus to middle school. However, as time went on, I began expanding my music taste. I got into My Three Days Grace, Shinedown, and other similar bands. Then, Freshman year came.

I remember the moment clear as day. I was working on my photography notebook the week before finals like the dumbass I was am, with Pandora open and listening to one of the many radios. Then, a song came on. It was by a band I hadn’t heard of before. It was called Bad Company, and the band was called Five Finger Death Punch. Now, little fourteen year old me was a little shocked by the name but the song wasn’t unlike anything I’d heard before. I decided I liked that song and favorited it.

A little while later more of their songs began popping up, but they were a little different. Heavier. Angrier. And I loved it. I don’t know what it was about the gruff vocals or pounding drum beats or glorious guitar solos, but I was hooked. I then moved onto Spotify and listened to their albums, headbanging all the way. This was my first experience with Metal, and you better believe I was a fan.

As time went on I explored more bands. Alesana, Asking Alexandria, Crown the Empire, A Day to Remember, Halestorm, Ghost, etc. I tried showing people my favorite bands but they made fun of my music taste, mimicking their screams whenever I looked up. It was disheartening, and I never wanted to share it again. Not until I knew they were okay with it. I had people tell me they were scared of that music, and asked me to never play it in front of them. You can see how that would make me never want to tell anyone about it, right? Well, I kept it to myself, electing to share music with only a few people, one being my friend. She always jokes about how she showed me Fall Out Boy and all them and then lost me along the way. 

During Junior year I discovered even more bands, including one of my favorites, Ice Nine Kills. Amazing band, you should definitely check them out, but the advertising comes later. My music taste also diversified a little and I began listening to softer bands, like grandson and The Ghost Club. 

Now, to the main show. My recent music taste.

It all began with one Instagram video. A meme video that really isn’t all that funny. I was actually just looking through what I saved and it happened to be in a  really small folder, so I clicked it. Here is the exact video

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by positive memes (@positive_and_negative_memes) on Feb 23, 2019 at 6:14pm PST

So I was interested the song and band and decided to look them up. What I found was simply...amazing.

Okay, here comes the advertising of my favorite bands :)

I. Gloryhammer

The first Power Metal band I discovered and still my favorite. Here’s how Gloryhammer describes themselves:

“And lo, Planet Earth had been destroyed by the Hootsman, with an explosion so powerful it ripped a hole in the very fabric of spacetime. And yet, Zargothrax was still not defeated, for he managed to use his last shreds of power to escape through the dimensional rift. Vowing to defeat the evil sorcerer, Angus McFife XIII followed him into the portal, with no idea where it might lead…“

That may seem confusing, and it is, but trust me, when I tell you a bit more, it will all make sense. 

So Gloryhammer is one of the best bands I have ever heard before. Their concept is absolute gold and is the only of its kind I’ve seen before. Basically, every single one of their songs tells a story of the Land of Fife. The Lead singer (Thomas Winkler) is Prince Angus McFife (the 1st and 13th), keyboard/backing vocals (Christopher Bowes) is the Evil Sorcerer Zargothrax, guitar/backing vocals (Paul Templing) is Sir Proletiues, leader of the warriors of Crail, drums (Ben Turk) is the Ancient Hermit Ralathor, and last but never least is bass/backing vocals (James Cartwright), the Mighty Hootsman! 

Each album follows a part in the epic saga, with three in total. The first album tells the story of the original Angus McFife the I whereas the next two follow his ancestor, Anguc McFife XIII. I don't want to give too much spoilers but let's just say that all three are filled with so much creativity and twists that it’s like listening to a movie! I cant even express how if you are looking for something to listen to that has dragons, goblin kings, evil sorcerers, hammers, and space, then this is the band for you! 

I am going to put one song by them down because you can only have five and I’m big mad about it.

Gloryhammer - Legends from Beyond the Galactic Terrorvortex

So yeah, that’s band numero uno!

II. Sabaton

What is there to say about Sabaton that hasn’t already been said... 

Unlike Gloryhammer, Sabaton is older, formed in the nineties. Here’s what they say about themselves on their website:

“In the nearly two decades since their launch, Swedish metallers Sabaton have carved out a reputation as one of the hardest working bands in the business – gaining a legion of loyal fans across the globe, delivering eight highly-rated studio albums (including two certified platinum-sellers), and scoring multiple industry award wins and nominations… not to mention launching their own annual festival and cruise.

Combining soaring power riffs with vocalist Joakim Brodén’s instantly-recognisable gruff baritone, the band refuses to be simply slotted into a genre. Fans need only know them as Sabaton: the heavy metal band that sings of real life wars and the people who played a part in them – of gruelling campaigns and dazzling acts of bravery, of magnificent victories and touching personal struggles – true stories more fantastic than any fiction,”

Sabaton is, as they stated, a band dedicated to sharing stories of true battles throughout history. On their website they even have a whole calendar dedicated to historic events, so you can see what happened in history on whatever day you’d like! 

As a huge history geek, this band is amazing. I would watch the World War documentary series before I went to bed in middle school because I thought all of that stuff was so interesting. If I didn’t love writing and English as much as I do then I’d go into a career where history was involved. They were actually a part of my Spotify Wrapped this year where I explored 27 of their songs, listened to six of their albums, and spent over 39 hours listening to just them this year. 

Unlike what I did before, I am just going to showcase three of my favorite songs by them because they have way too many albums and I’m sad to say I didn’t listen to all of them. 

The Lost Battalion - The Last Stand

Now, onto the third band and a good one too!

III. Powerwolf

I’m not a religious person, I grew up being taught all that stuff but I consider myself to be more agnostic rather than Christian or any of that stuff. But, if there’s one religious thing I don’t mind bumping its the Priests of Metal, Powerwolf! Here's what they have to say about themselves:

“After spilling gallons of blood and fighting tirelessly, after only two albums with Napalm Powerwolf shot straight to the pole position of the official German album charts (and another album made it into the top three!). After selling out venue after venue and thrilling bigger and bigger hordes of fans, the time is right for a new chapter: The Sacrament Of Sin which offers eleven metal psalms forged for all eternity!

Powerwolf entered Fascination Street Studios in Örebrö, Sweden starting in January 2018 to work on their seventh manifesto together with renowned producer Jens Bogren (Opeth, Arch Enemy, Amon Amarth). The result is brimming with the Germans` trademark sound, and yet the band have recorded their boldest and most adventurous album to date! ‘Where the wild wolves have gone‘ even marks the first ballad in Powerwolf history – whereas ‘Nightside of Siberia‘ does the exact opposite and turns out to be one of the heaviest tunes the fivepiece have ever written. ‘Incense And Iron‘ simply MUST be part of every future setlist with its folky nature and anthemic catchiness; and epic single ‘Fire & Forgive‘ brilliantly melts infectious melodies into timeless, heavy shredding. The Sacrament Of Sin overwhelms both with sophisticated songwriting and sheer aggression – and proves once more why Powerwolf are the one and only true high priests of heavy metal!,”

The band is made up of vocalist  Karsten Brill as "Attila Dorn", lead guitarist Benjamin Buss as "Matthew Greywolf", bassist/rhythm guitarist David Vogt as "Charles Greywolf", keyboardist Christian Jost as "Falk Maria Schlegel" and drummer Roel van Helden. 

They’re really awesome and here’s my favorite song by them.

Army of the Night - Blessed and Possessed 

Now onto the fourth band ;)...

IV. Brothers of Metal

Oh boy, if you thought the bands might’ve mellowed out a little then you are sorely unprepared for this glorious group...

When I was younger I was one of those Percy Jackson kids, but my love for mythology started long before I read one of those books. As I grew older I expanded my knowledge, moving away from Greek and Roman and into Norse and other mythologies. You can imagine my joy when I found Brothers of Metal. They have no Wikipedia or website so here’s what Spotify says about them:

“BROTHERS OF METAL consist of eight powerful Viking warriors that originates from the glorious kingdom of Falun, far up in the north. Falun is a mighty town that lies within the dark iron woods where only true metal warriors reside. BROTHERS OF METAL are known to most as the strongest metal band in the nine realms. 

Before time, our eight warriors would travel through the realms and protect the good folk against evil. It was one of those nights that the legacy of metal was born. They came home from some pretty intense giant slaying and felt the common urge for mead and entertainment. The mead was generously flowing from the teats of Heidrun, but the music was really bad. The warriors took what instruments they could find and started playing, thus they wrote their first song Son of Odin, creating a tribute hymn to the strongest god they knew. 

The mortals of the kingdom was so impressed with the music that they couldn't get enough, our warriors looked at each other and so a band was formed. Together they swor an oath to keep the flames of true metal burning and to continue to play until the earthlings had worthy entertainment of their own, it's yet to come,” 

They haven’t released a ton of music when compared to the bands I listed before them, but they are absolutely amazing! All their music videos make me chuckle and when I watch Q&A’s they’ve posted they feel so down to earth that a person whos probably a decade younger than them if not less/more can relate to them. All their music has to do with Norse Mythology, but here’s my favorite music video yet:

The Mead Song - Prophecy of Ragnarök

And yeah, that’s it!

I hope you all weren't too bored and I hope you at least somewhat enjoyed this. It feels good to talk about my favorite bands. I’d love to put more videos in but Tumblr won’t let you so I guess we’re stuck with only one per band. I planned on doing three each but I guess that’s dead in the water. 

Oh well.

If you like any of this music/band honestly just reach out and talk to me, I love chatting about music. I don’t know a ton about the logistics or anything like that but we can share bands or songs or whatever. I sound really lonely which is true but please don’t feel shy.

See you all later! 

-Paige

[smolsleepyfox]

Excerpt from the crackship I may or may not continue:

"Listen, your *highness*, I'm aware I'm not perfect. Not yet anyway, getting there, of course." He waved absently at some sort of constellation map Angus had no idea how to decipher.

"Angus."

"Huh?" The dark sorcerer stopped in his tracks, his frown turning into confusion. If looked a lot better immediately, Angus thought.

"You can call me Angus. I've chased you across three universes, I think by now it's warranted to be on first-name basis. Is Zargothrax even your real name?"

The dark sorcerer blinked at him. Well, that sarcasm flew right over Angus the... 14th? 12th? Head was not surprising. Was he trying to befriend him to get himself out of the situation? Admittedly, that darned hermit had graced him with some impressive wards. There was none against an old boring rope tying the prince to a chair though.

"Well." Zargothrax smirked, swallowing his irritation, and threw his hood back. Last time, that had certainly helped. The sudden averting of eyes told him it had worked. He stepped forward and lifted the prince's chin to force him to meet his gaze. "If it wasn't, what would you do?"

"Ralathor and Proletius will find me," Angus answered, voice unsteady, but with the hint of steel he seemed to have inherited from his ancestor. "And if you're unlucky, the Hootsman will get here first."

"Oh woe, I'm trembling," Zargothrax responded, rolling his eyes. " How many times do you want them to rescue you?"

"As many times as you fail to kill me. Come on, what's stopping you? Throw lightning at me, or take that twisted knife. With your kind of power you could do anything to me-" He broke off, realizing what he had just said. His cheeks flushed a bright red, something Zargothrax was both surprised and pleased to see.

"Why, my prince, is that an invitation?" He our on his best smile (worked) and whisper (sounded too threatening). Angus huffed.

"I just said call me Angus. What's your real name anyway, your mother surely didn't call you Zargothrax. That sounds like inviting trouble."

The dark sorcerer wavered between favepalming so hard you heard it in his home dimension and slamming his head on a desk (or, for lack of a desk, Angus' armored lap).

"I swear to the gods above, a mortal would have been bad enough, but how did I mention to fall for the DUMBEST MOTHERFUCKER in this entire kingdom? Why you of all people."

Angus stared at him, the gears in his head spinning. "You... you fancy me?"

Zargothrax sat down on the floor with a defeated huff. Taunting his victim was no fun if the victim didn't play along. Why this guy. Why.

Angus' smile lighted up his entire face. If he was being sarcastic, Zargothrax had absolutely no way of telling. "I was already wondering why you never killed me. I thought maybe you liked Super Mario too much." When he received no answer, he helpfully added: "You know... Bowser kidnapping Princess Peach again and again? I don't think that exists in this dimension but still."

[spackeets-written-madness]

The Assult on Triton

The Fortress of Triton holds the frozen Dark Lord, Zargothrax and the Forces of Chaos wish to free him and will slaughter all that stands in their way. 

Also on Ao3!

Dissclaimers: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and violence, explicit language

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was chaos outside the fortress of Triton, hoards of demons, zombies, goblins and chaos wizards streamed forward, seemingly with no end to their forces. They assaulted the fortress of the Space Knights of Crail relentlessly, trying their damndest to get inside and kill the ones that dare stand against them. All kinds of demons swarmed with the goblins and wizards: faecal demons (that the Space Knights were more used to dealing with), imps, siege demons, demon knights, and flying demons. This was a larger-scale invasion than any invasion before and it was gruelling and bloody. The Knights already had to fall back to the fortress and hold it after losing the fields.

A large muted orange demon grotesquely built with massive biceps and rolls of fat thundered into view of the gates, snorted air out of its large nostrils and let out a roar that echoed through the air, shaking the fortified walls. It then tilted its massive horns atop an armoured head down and charged towards the door. With each large step towards the fortress’s doors, the demon shook the ground and crushed oblivious faecal demons under hoof and rammed its large horns into the door.

The door shuddered as the large demon hit it, blowing some of the Space Knights back from the force of the impact, throwing them into the dirt. The door miraculously held, but the cracks forming on it revealed that it won’t hold for long.

“Get up! Get up and reinforce that door! The forces of Chaos must not break through!” Sir Regulon yelled, running into the courtyard from the stairs. He blasted a flying demon with his laser gun, finishing it off with his sword when it fell down.

The Knights that were thrown back from the impact got up as quickly as they could with some help from their peers and immediately yelled out orders for something more to reinforce the gates. Their voices joined the chaos of battle outside.

The large bulbous behemoth that rammed into the doors, got up, huffed in annoyance that it didn’t break through, began to walk back to where it originally was to try again. The swarms of goblins, zombies, other demons and wizards moved around the large demon as it lumbered past. It stopped and turned around, let out another thunderous roar into the sky and charged, crushing some more oblivious faecal demons and astral zombies underneath it’s massively hoofed and muscular legs as it ran into the door again.

The door cracked more but did not shatter nor budge much to the displeasure of the massive demon. It got up again looking at the door with its hands on its large hips like a disappointed mother that caught her kid drawing on the walls. It studied the door critically trying to think of the best way to get it open. The massive horned demon lifted a hand off its hip and knocked twice, opened its jaw to rows of sharp teeth and spoke in a guttural and deep voice, “Your pizza order’s here,” it said with an amused undertone. All it got for its trouble was having hot oil dumped on its head which it took in stride. “How rude…” it muttered.

A stray spell hit the demon on its flank near its thick and armoured tail, fat and muscle rippling as the demon jumped in surprise. After it had landed with a loud crash, loose dirt and pebbles getting thrown up from its surprise it swung its head and its four eyes independently sought out who the hell shot him in the ass. “IDIOT SPELL CASTERS! WATCH WHERE YOU FIRE! NOW GET INTO THAT FORTRESS, WE MUST FREE THE DARK LORD!” it roared in the general direction of the chaos wizards that it had picked up on the way here.

“YES SIR, DEMON COMMANDER ETH’TELAK!” came the combined answer along with a salute. One of the chaos wizards tried very hard not to piss himself, very glad that he didn’t face the main brunt of the commander’s wrath for that loose spell.

Eth’telak then faced the door again, putting a clawed finger to his chin in thought as the chaos happened around him, spells thundered against the walls. The demon felt another dumping of hot oil over his head and shoulders. He looked up at the ones that poured oil on him. “Stop that! You’re merely giving me a nice shower!” he yelled at the humans who shirked away from his gaze. He then paused looking up, he took two steps backwards and jumped upwards, landed his weight on the top of the wall which sent cracks all throughout the stonework. He then got over on the other side of the wall, landing heavily on all fours, shaking the ground with his impact and landing on several knights.

Sir Regulon stopped in his tracks as this massive demon came over the wall, nearly the size the door that’s meant to be keeping these hellish bastards out. “Hey, demon!” he called out, taking aim with his laser blaster.

Eth’telak lifted his head to look at this human that dared to talk to him, lifting a scaled brow. “What, human?” he asked as he got up from the ground, picking up one of the knights in his four-fingered grip and crushing them.

“Did you eat your mother!?” Sir Regulon yelled at him, aiming to try and make the demon angry. He also took aim at the six-metre tall demon’s chest.

“Brother, actually, but nice try!” Eth’telak said in response just as he got shot in the chest by a laser blast. It merely gave him a small scratch on his thick hide.

Sir Regulon gazed on with horror that his shot did nothing aside from giving the demon a bit of a scratch.

Eth’telak looked at the small charr on his chest, then at the human, looking on with horror. “You hit the equivalent of your own fortress walls with a handgun, what do you think was going to happen?!” he roared in amazement at the idiocy of this human. He then quickly turned around to headbutt the large doors open to allow the other demons through.

The forces of chaos streamed through, engaging with the Space Knights of Crail as Eth’telak laughed. Sir Regulon fought as hard as he could, but even he was sure that the fortress was lost as Knights fell faster than demons. Chaos and Justice fought for different goals, one to guard a prison of what the other side wanted. 

Everyone then heard the sound of a laser something that arced through the forces of Chaos in the back, followed by another laser sweep.

Eth’telak turned towards the entrance after he heard the laser blasts go off, flicking his tail to try and wipe out some humans as he investigated. “That better not be who I fucking think it is,” he muttered to himself, looking out of the fortress and down the fields.

Down the fields was what could be described as a one-man army. A one-man army donned in armour made of wolf and more for comfort than form, wielding a massive battle-axe which he used to cut down demons, zombies, wizards and goblins alike, showering himself and the battle-field in blood. It was the Hootsman. The King of California and Hero of Unst, and in league with the other two heroes: Angus McFife XIII and Ralathor, Hermit of the Cowdenbeath.

The blonde-haired barbarian, dripping with blood (not his own) ripped through the forces of chaos with an axe, fist and boot. Hootsman throws his axe and it sails through the air and embeds itself in a pretty large demon, felling it. He was disarmed… So they thought, until he let out a warcry, grabbing the nearest goblin and ripping their head from their shoulders with another cry. He punches a few wizards, their necks snapping with the force as he strides up to the demon that had his axe embedded in its skull. He ripped it out and cut down several imps that tried to get the drop on him. He faced Eth’telak in the distance and lets out a warcry in a challenge.

Eth’telak let out a roar in annoyance. “Of course it’s the fucking Hootsman!” he spat. He turned to the forces slaughtering the Space Knights. “Free Zargothrax, free the Dark Lord! I’ll distract the Hootsman!” he ordered and was answered with a chorus of ‘yes, sir!’s. He faced where the barbarian was tearing through his forces, let out a thunderous roar, dropped to all fours unlike when he was charging at the gates and began to run towards the barbarian with his head and horns down.

The Hootsman was minding his own business cutting through the forces of chaos when he heard a thunderous gallop, looking up just in time to get swept by a horn and tossed into the air by one massive demon. While he went flying up he figured that this demon might be an important one and a good challenge. He grinned and twisted his body in the air, pointing his axe down as he fell towards the demon. The barbarian made a hole in the ground with his impact, but the demon was a lot more agile than he thought as the orange behemoth had dodged the warrior of Unst. He climbed out of the ditch and faced the demon that was standing on his hind legs and appeared to be waiting for him.

“I’ll give you credit, demon, you’re a lot more agile than I thought, now,” Hootsman points his axe at the demon in a threat and continues, “who are you?” He readied himself for the demon to charge again since it was no doubt a dumb brute.

The large demon grins. “I am Eth’telak, Demon Commander for the Dark Lord Zargothrax!” he introduced himself with a fist to chest salute in honour. After the salute, he dropped his arm and snorted out hot air from his nostrils.

That caught the King of California by surprise. “An intelligent demon?”

Eth’telak huffed. “Yes, someone has to command these idiots in the Lord’s absence!” he roared, crushing another faecal demon under-hoof that tried to get between the commander and his battle. The demon commander pulled a face and shook the bits of shit off his hoof. “Repulsive demons! Even for my tastes. I need a nice dragons blood bath after I pound you into the dirt, Hoostman, King of California!” he roared.

“I too will need a bath after this!” the Hootsman roared back, charging forward, lifting his axe to strike.

Eth’telak stepped away from the screaming human, swatting him with his tail, sending him flying and skidding along the ground. While the Hoostman was prone, the demon dropped down on all fours, rammed a horn in the ground charged forward, ripping up ground as he came straight at Hootsman, kicking up bits of rock and dirt.

Hootsman decided that it would be a good idea to dodge that attack and get out of the way. He did exactly that, leaping up and striking the demon’s armoured back, his axe glancing off harmlessly. Okay, don’t strike the armoured bits, got it. He tumbled off Eth’telak’s back and onto the dirt. He got back up and scowled.

Eth’telak laughed as he stood back up and began walking towards the barbarian, every step shaking the demon’s massive muscles and fat, his large tail acting as a counter-balance to his steps. The demon lifts his right hand and strikes Hootsman, or rather where he was as the much smaller figure dodged the strike and towards the demon, striking at his heel and successfully drawing black blood. The demon let out a roar of pain as he tried to step on Hootsman as the barbarian struck again and on the back of the demon commander’s knee which dropped the demon. Eth’telak grabbed the Hootsman and flung him away as he did his best to stand back up, hoisting up his massive frame.

The Hootsman engaged again, but Eth’telak was ready for him and they resumed battle, fighting hard to try and kill the other. Hootsman continued to cut into any weak point he could find (which happened to be his joints) on the demon while Eth’telak threw him around. The Hootsman tried to get past the Demon Commander to stop the return of Zargothrax while Eth’telak was trying to stall for time for his forces to free the sorcerer.

After several minutes more of battle, Hootsman had ended up on an exhausted Eth’telak’s chest and raised his axe to deliver the final blow when the demon started to laugh. The barbarian falters. “What’s so funny, demon? I defeated you!” he said, with triumph and raised his axe again.

Eth’telak continued to laugh and harder, lifting his hand he points towards the fortress of Triton. “You may have fought to defeat me...I fought to buy time for his return. And I won,” he said, watching the barbarian’s face fall, taking the opportunity and swatting him off his chest. The demon gets up, still laughing and held out a hand towards the demon army, several suddenly fell dead as bright orange energy was pulled from them and into Eth’telak, healing all of his injuries. The demon commander, as soon as he was healed, retreated towards the fortress of Triton and the pillar of dark energy swirling in a dark tornado from it into the sky.

“NO!” the Hootsman yelled as he tried to follow Eth’telak but unfortunately the demon was galloping on four legs and was far ahead of the barbarian of Unst cutting through the forces of Chaos again.

The King of California continued to cut through the forces as he tried to fight his way to the fortress. He should have tried to run for it. Maybe he can still make it? He punched a few goblins as he worked his way towards the fortress again. The Hootsman then launched some more sweeps of bladed energy, cutting through several demons, zombies and wizards alike.

Dark laughter that suddenly echoed through the sky and the fields told him that he would have no hope of trying to save the fortress and he turned around, fighting to retreat back to his allies and tell them about what just happened.

[spackeets-written-madness]

False Information

They had anticipated the attack for themselves, they did not think Declan Rasmussen, their enemy, would attack the Kingdom of Fife. One of their own, Riker “Snow” Winters had been on the commandeered Submarine and decided to adjust his part of the plan - with no help from the rest of his friends.

also on Ao3!

Basis: Something I wrote based on a dream I had, decided to place it in Gloryhammer because it was easy enough to slot in Fandom: Gloryhammer Characters: OCs of my own (Riker “Snow” Winters, Declan Rasmussen) and mentioned ones from @thedarkmetallady (Dawei). Grand Master Proletius, Angus McFife the XIII, Ralathor, The Hootsman Words: 3280

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We were fed false information, I can’t let him destroy Fife and kill so many innocents. I have to adjust the plan and stop the ship before it crashes into the citadel, you guys won't be able to make it in time. I’ll try to get out alive, but if I don’t, see you guys on the other side. Dawei, I love you.”

                                                      ***

The cloaked figure rushed through the dark metal corridors of the space Submarine as he made his way to engineering to force the ship out of warp. It was supposed to go to the Keep, at least, that was the information they got and he found out that it was false. This ship is going to warp into the Citadel of Dundee located in Fife with millions of civilians; they would be wiped out. He had no connection with Fife, but he would not sit back and be teleported out as millions die when he could have prevented it or at least try. If it had been going to the Keep, it would have been easier to force it to crash, no one lived there except for himself and his group, but they had also been ready for it.

He had made a few more turns which left some people in the hallways confused, yet he did not care as he had been perfectly concealed. He needed to be hidden until he had gotten to the warp room, he had to drop the ship out of warp now, he refused to let people die because Declan had chosen to attack a place he had no prior plans to attack before. He had gotten to the door he needed and it had slid open to allow him entrance.

One of the workers had approached him with concern, “Excuse me si-!” They were silenced with a single knife to the throat and the others that had also come up to stop him had also been dealt with in the same way.

The mysterious cloaked figure had gone straight to the big reactor in the middle of the room, had reached out and pulled the emergency lever to drop them out of warp. He had snatched his hand back suddenly as a laser blast hit the consol where his hand would have been; he dodged another shot, but it had grazed his upper arm and brought out a hiss in pain. The figure then took off his cloak and had thrown it at the shooter to distract them as he drew out metal claws and had killed them. After the shooter had gone down, the figure that was previously cloaked had resumed his original task and had pulled the lever which caused the ship to lurch as it dropped from the warp.

The figure that everyone on board now knew as Riker Winters of the Warriors sprinted through the corridors as he made his way to the bridge, to change the direction of the ship away from Fife. Anyone that had stood in his way was taken out by metal claws. Riker then barged into the chaotic bridge, voices clamoured in a cacophony as they tried to work out why they had dropped out of warp prematurely as the Citadel of Dundee got closer. Everyone on the bridge had been too occupied to notice Riker had retired their helmsman and steered the ship up and away from Dundee.

Riker had to duck a spell thrown from Declan who was in the head chair near the doors of the bridge, he had then vaulted over the driver panels to take cover as Declan fired more spells to get rid of the white-haired Warrior.

“Get out of here, I’ll join you as soon as I rid ourselves of this white rat and finish the plan!” Declan ordered his underlings. He then dived for the panels to change them but had been stopped by Riker tackling him.

Declan and Riker fought each other as the ship groaned and tipped underneath them, as mages teleported away with prepared teleports, as the computer said something about the bridge doors being locked down. One fought to get to the panels to change the ship’s direction again while the other fought to buy time for Fife and himself. They paid no mind to anything else as they traded blows with each other. The ship groaned beneath and around them as it struggled to fight the planet’s gravity, cleary strained from its sudden entrance into said gravity as it lumbered across the sky. One of the other consoles in the bridge had burst into flames near the pair, and Riker took the chance and tackled Declan into it back first.

Declan screamed out in pain as he was slammed into the console and the flames began to burn past his clothes as his nemesis kept him against the burning console. “Get off me, Winters!” he screamed as he tried to push Riker off.

Riker kept his grip on Declan, his arm had been in the path of the flames and he bit back the pain from it. “No, I will not, we will both stay on this ship until it goes down or one of us falls,” he threatened his estranged cousin.

A voice sounded through the computer’s communication that was familiar to Riker but not to Declan. “ -static- Sno- Snow- static- they -bzzzt- won- can’t get you - bbZzZTT- too much -zzZZZZttt- interference -static-.” The voice then stopped as it if it had been cut off.

A sizeable explosion rocked the ship suddenly just after the voice had finished and thrown the pair away from the console on fire, across the polished floor littered with rubble. They both stood up with effort just as more explosions rumbled through and tossed them around some more.

“Fuck you, Riker!” Declan screamed and launched himself at Riker and slammed him into the front consoles hard.

The pair fought themselves as much as they did their balance on the failing ship when they both noticed that the mountainside had gotten closer and much quicker than it had been. Both abandoned their fight and immediately scrambled for any sort of cover on the wrecked bridge except for Declan, who tried to cast his prepared teleport to save himself and leave Riker on the ship.

The white-haired warrior had tackled his estranged cousin just as the bow of the ship made hard contact with the mountainside and collapsed in on itself onto the pair in it. After its descent was stopped, it had begun to roll down the mountainside, falling apart before it rested at the foot of the mountain.

A small flock of Crail’s giant eagles landed near the wreckage.

                                                       ***

Grand Master Proletius, lead commander of the Space Knights of Crail had been enjoying that day, it was rather nice. The sun had been shining bright overhead and he was no longer swamped with paperwork from his help with the newly crowned king: Angus McFife the thirteenth. Yep, everything had gone smoothly and now he simply enjoyed the nice day in the courtyard of the large Citadel.

The Mysterious Hermit of Cowdenbeath, Ralathor had also chilled with him to simply enjoy the day since he too had nothing on that day.

“Odd to have a nice day, isn’t it?” Proletius said to his mysterious friend as they sat around on the benches.

The hooded hermit simply gave a small nod. “It is a nice change,” he agreed, he had spoken quietly, but the Grand Master could still hear him.

They spoke too soon, for far above the Citadel of Dundee a submarine had appeared right out of warp. Proletius and Ralathor already left the courtyard when the sub had appeared, they had sprinted through the halls just when the shock of the submarine came with a loud CRASH and shattered some windows. The Citadel had been thrown into chaos at this sudden attack.

Proletius had issued orders to the Space Knights to check on the eagles, evacuate the civilians to another location as well as themselves. Ralathor remained by the Grand Master’s side as they rushed through the Citadel as the older knight issued the orders in an attempt to get a handle on the chaos that they were thrown in.

“It was prematurely dropped out of warp,” Ralathor had said next to Proletius as they made their way to the Giant Eagles aviary.

Proletius looked at his friend. “What?” he asked, not because he did not hear him but because he did not consider that the ship had been dropped out of warp.

“Someone sabotaged the ship to drop out of warp prematurely. Whoever aimed to attack us, I know the tactic they aimed for and someone had stopped them,” he expanded.

The shadow of the submarine had passed over the city after it seemed to get forced up and to the right. Whoever had commandeered the ship from the attackers prevented it from crashing as well by steering it away from the city. It had rumbled harmlessly overhead and over the fields at a rather brisk pace but began to slow down as it fought the gravity.

Proletius and Ralathor both quickened their pace. “Ralathor, what’s the chance our mysterious saviour lives?” Proletius asked as they weaved through the streets crowded with panicked citizens as King Angus and the Hootsman organised the evacuation.

“Depending on if they’re engaging with our equally mysterious attackers, about half -” A loud pop sounded above them as one of the thrusters couldn’t keep up with the strain of the atmosphere. “-but dropping significantly,” he finished calmly.

They managed to get to the aviary with the giant eagles who were stunned from the shock and after they had helped them recover, the Space Knights of Crail and the Grand Master hopped on their large feathery companions and left in pursuit of the large Submarine. Ralathor had buddied up with Proletius on Farcry.

The Space Knights began to gain on the rather slow-moving ship as it strained against the gravity of the planet. Proletius then turned to Ralathor, “Can you try to slow the submarine down?” he asked with a raised voice over the wind.

The hermit nodded and began to cast a spell then stopped. “Oh dear…” he muttered and stopped his cast.

“What-,” A massive series of explosions rippled across the ship’s hull and propelled the bow of the ship forward, towards the mountainside it had been slowly rumbling towards beforehand. The rest of the Space Knights stalled on their eagles as they watched the front of ship ram into the mountain and began to roll down it, pieces then began to fall off and onto the mountain.

Proletius and Farcry did not stall and still flew towards the bow that was now descending the mountain. “Chances now?” he asked the Hermit but he knew that they would be low if not non-existent.

“If they were pinned at the moment of contact against the mountain, low, but if they were not…” the hermit trailed off since he did not need to tell the Grand Master what would happen if he was not pinned.

Proletius knew; if their saviour had been pinned under rubble before the ship tumbled, they would have had some chance at survival, but if they were not pinned, then the Grand Master would be retrieving a corpse.

The ship stopped at the base of the mountain, now a crumpled shell as the Grand Master and medical eagles approached and landed. With Ralathor’s help, they managed to get into the bridge and searched for survivors or bodies.

                                                           ***

They had found one survivor in the wreckage, he was in critical condition so they had to get him to Dundee’s infirmary as soon as possible to try and save him. They had no idea if he was the attacker or the saviour of Fife, but Ralathor managed to salvage the submarine’s security tapes and had looked at them in private. The Grand Master had been pacing outside the infirmary for news on the white-haired man they had found, for news from Ralathor, or news from Angus and Hootsman. The latter two had already started to bring the citizens they had evacuated back into the city.

The attack had come from thin air and the Space Knights had found no follow up attack, so went to help their King and the Hootsman bring the civilians back into the city.

King Angus and the Hootsman had been the first to return and found Proletius outside the infirmary. “Proletius, old friend, the citizens are back into their homes and the Space Knights and the Questlords had taken it upon themselves to start clearing out the wreckage of both halves of the fallen submarine. Any word on our mysterious man’s status or his involvement?” the Hootsman asked.

Proletius shook his head. “No, Ralathor is still looking at the tapes and our mystery man is still with the healers; are you sure that every citizen is back home safe?” he asked.

Angus nodded. “Yeah, though the mood is tense now and I’m not sure what to say. They’ll want answers, this was sudden,” he had said to his friends.

“Think of a speech after we get answers ourselves,” Proletius advised.

“Speaking of answers, I have some,” Ralathor said as he appeared near the group and spooked the Hootsman.

“Well?” Proletius prompted, eager to hear.

“Long watch through security footage short, our mysterious survivor is our saviour and his name is Riker Winters. Our attacker was Declan and either died in the bridge where we dug up Riker, or he had managed to cast his prepared teleport and got away. Hard to tell,” Ralathor answered a bit vaguely.

“Anything else?” the Grand Master asked. There was always more with the Hermit involved since he had been quite thorough.

“He's a part of a group that Declan referred to simply as the 'Warriors' and from what I could glean was that the Warriors got information that Declan was going to attack their base, they sent an inside man to drop the ship out of warp the same way we witnessed and that inside man found out that they were fed false information.”

“And he simply adjusted the previous plan with no help from his group but it was clear from his actions that he didn't simply want this to happen,” Angus theorised based on the evidence that had been given to him.

The Hootsman wondered something. “Why would Declan attack Fife? I have no idea who that is, name rings no bells.”

“I do not recognise the name either, neither of them in fact,” Proletius agreed.

“Declan wished to remove us from the possibility of being allies with the Warriors and those he called the Griffins. No doubt he recognised that if they were to befriend the kingdom that took down Zargothrax many times, he would have a hard time destroying the Warriors.”

Angus shrugged. “Well, let's go find them and ally with them,” he said since that made sense, the sudden yet failed attack had pushed their hand.

Proletius turned to the young king. “You will stay here and settle the nerves of the people, I will go on Farcry and look for the Warriors, I was one of the ones to pull their friend out of the smouldering wreckage,” he ordered.

The boy-king pouted. “I suppose that you and Farcry would be quicker, I did say that I need answers to tell the people, so okay. But if you're a week late, I am coming after you,” he threatened with a grin.

The older knight gave a small chuckle, “That’s fair. But I also don’t know how long it’d take to find them. Give me at least a week minimum and two weeks maximum.”

“Alright, a day more and I’m coming after you. With my hammer. Hoots, Ralathor, what are you two going to do?” Angus had asked his friends.

“I’m going to head back to the wreckage of the bridge and try to find any trace of Declan,” the Hootsman answered with a casual shrug.

“I will go back to the tapes and organise them into a video for our hopefully new friends, since they’d probably have an interest in seeing what happened,” the Hermit answered softly.

“What about Riker?” Angus asked.

“No point chilling, it’s already been three hours, the healers will be done if he’s stable or if he dies, but I’ll let them know to report to you about his status,” Proletius answered.

That settled the king’s nerves and he nodded. “Alright, I’m going to make a speech to settle everyone’s nerves, see you all later,” he said and walked off down the corridor. The others too parted ways, Hootsman to the wreckage of the bridge, Ralathor back to his hermit hole in Cowdenbeath and Proletius went to prepare for his trip after he had told the healers to inform the King of Riker’s status.

It had taken Proletius several hours to get himself and Farcry ready for their long trip, it was late at night when the Grand Master was ready. He gazed at the large eagle and had been making a mental checklist to make sure that he had everything.

“There’s more information that you should know that would make your search faster. Hopefully,” a small voice said behind him.

Proletius turned to face Ralathor, not phased at his sudden appearance. “And what information is that?”

“The Winters and Declan are familiar to me. Declan’s full name is Declan Rasmussen, a mage that I had been… Watching. The Winters are an ancient family that I thought was extinct, the Rasmussens being traitors of the Winters and sought to wipe them out and establish themselves as the true family. I know nothing of the Warriors, but one of the Winters are apart of them, so here’s a map of locations that the Rasmussens hit but were mysteriously pushed back,” Ralathor shoved a map into Proletius’s hands before he had continued, “ask around there for the Warriors, maybe someone around there knows their whereabouts, allude to who you are, pique their interest.” He finished and gazed at Proletius.

“Pique their interest enough to come searching for me since they know their guy was at Fife, got it. And I’ll be careful about alluding to whether or not we have Riker, don’t want the Rasmussens sneaking in and killing our saviour,” the Grand Master nodded. “Anything else?”

Ralathor held up his hand, palm up. “The assembled recordings. I figured that our hopefully new friends would appreciate a copy, so I made one.” A small drive sat in the Hermit’s hand.

Proletius took the drive and pocketed it along with the map. “Don’t want to come help?”

“I would only slow you and Farcry down,” the hermit answered.

Proletius knew that Ralathor was hiding something since in the rush of battle the lanky hermit did no such thing, and knew how to ride a giant eagle. The Grand Master had lifted a brow to let the Hermit know about his scepticism and turned back to Farcry and began to climb her. “While I think that’s false, I also know why you don’t wish to tell me: it’d take too long.”

“Exactly. Farewell, Proletius and if you’re a day late, the king won’t be the only one coming to search for you.” He had a small smile underneath his hood.

Proletius chuckled as Farcry shook herself a bit to settle the bags and prepared to take off. “Farewell, Ralathor, be back in a week or two,” he said as he adjusted himself and then Farcry took off with a leap.