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villainsview · 20 days ago

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Chapter 5

Dig Deep

That’s life

That’s what all the people say

You’re riding high in April, shot down in May

The radio played a fitting song as I cleaned myself up after Jack left. Although I’d been wearing gloves, some blood had still found its way onto my wrists and arms. I waited for the water by the sink to warm up a bit, the red on my arm reminding me of Miss Thorne’s lipstick, the lipstick she’d left on the cigarette.

I still had it. I hadn’t taken the time to smoke yet. Instead I’d put it back in the package with the rest. Without thinking, I brought my arm a little closer to my face, taking a short whiff. There was something deeply disappointing about a dead man’s blood. I definitely preferred fresh.

The water warmed up, so I rinsed off the blood with some soap, before leaving the bunker, the smell of dead blood was beginning to bother me. As I exited the shed, I was met with a green blue sky, the kind you only see just before dawn. It was still quite dark on the land though, I had to watch my step as I nearly tripped over a rock.

Nearly.

It didn’t happen.

Back inside the house, I poured myself another coffee, before heading back into the basement to check on Erick, where I’d left him to keep him away from Jack, or vice versa. Despite my warning to stay in his spot, he’d shuffled off to a corner, but I could see why right away.

A large, grey rat was crawling over him, and he seemed a little distressed. I sighed, kicking the rodent off of him and helping him to his feet, noticing that he was crying.

“Now what?” I said.

“I-it bit my arm…”

“For the love of— Okay, upstairs. I’ll see if I got anything to treat that,” I said, nudging him towards the stairs.

He seemed a little hesitant, before turning his back to me so he could watch his step as he had to climb the stairs with bound hands. Since he headed up first, I could already get a decent look at the wound. Something was bleeding over the rope and his hands from just above his wrist. It didn’t look deep, but it would need cleaning. Who knows what kind of diseases these rodents carry?

Once upstairs, I put him back on the chain, locking the shackle around his ankle before cutting his hands free and nudging him towards the kitchen sink.

“Run some water over it,” I said, before heading upstairs.

It wasn’t until I opened the bathroom door that I heard the squeak of the tap being opened. I shook my head a bit, opening the mirror cabinet to see if there was anything of use, but all I found were rusty handcuffs and very old prescription medication. Annoyed, I closed the cabinet and headed back downstairs to search the kitchen, but I only found paper towels.

“Here, dab it dry, I’ll be right back,” I said, handing the paper towels to the teen, before heading outside to check the stash in my van.

Somewhere buried in the glovebox I found a bottle of ointment and an emergency first aid kit. Perfect for now. I could go out and buy new supplies later. I headed back inside, finding Erick still standing by the sink, trembling head to toe as he tried to keep dabbing at his wound, but the blood was soaking the paper towels and dripping on the floor. Beautiful scarlet red, almost livening up the grimey yellow tiles…

I tore my eyes away from the sight and focused on the task at hand, taking the teen’s arm and trying to press the wound closed so it would stop bleeding for long enough to dab away the worst blood, before smearing the greasy ointment on the cut and wrapping a bandage around it.

“W-what is that?” he asked quietly, eyeing the unlabelled tin that I kept the ointment in.

I fixed his bandage in place before picking it up and handing it to him so he could take a look for himself.

“It’s antibacterial,” I explained, “and it keeps the bandage from sticking to it. Made it myself.”

“...it smells like flowers,” the teen noted.

“It’s the honey,” I said, “enzymes make it antimicrobial…oh and lavender.”

The kid had the audacity to raise a brow, so I took the tin back from him and closed it.

“Sit down, I’ll find something to eat,” I grumbled, nudging him towards the kitchen table so I could start searching the cabinets.

Fortunately the stash of canned food was still adequate? It didn’t look decades old at least. There was also a package of dry crackers. Though, the cans were unlabeled, so I opened them on a guess, finding I had two different kinds.

“Do you want soup or beans?”

“Um…I-I don’t know…”

“Beans it is,” I said, wanting the soup for myself. Why did I even offer him a choice in the first place?

“And you’re forgetting to call me sir,” I added, finding a pan to heat up.

“I-I’m sorry—”

“It’s been a long night, but don’t let it happen again,” I said.

“Y-yes, sir…” Erick replied quietly, shrinking in his seat and staring at me wearily as I heated up his meal.

It didn’t take too long before the beans looked edible, so I dropped them on a plate with some of the old crackers, found a plastic spoon in one of the drawers and put it down before the teen. It didn’t look very appetising at all, so he hesitated taking a bite, not even touching it at all until I’d sat down with my cup of soup. I would definitely need to get better food later.

“It’s not poisoned,” I said.

The teen nodded, starting on the crackers with a soft crunch, keeping his eyes aimed at his plate. I didn’t mind the silence. I was tired too, and I think I slept with my eyes open for a bit, not really paying attention to anything until the kid suddenly started coughing.

“You’re supposed to swallow,” I said, rolling my eyes a bit, but then I noticed his coughing getting weaker. He was grabbing at his throat as he struggled to breathe in. He was choking. I sighed, getting up from my seat as I couldn’t let him die just yet.

“Get up,” I ordered, pulling him to his feet, “lean on the table.”

I pushed him forward, putting an arm around him, hand resting on his chest while smacking my free hand on his back, once, twice, a third time. I was considering abdominal thrusts when with the fourth smack he gagged and spat out a blob of chewed-out beans on the table, desperately gasping for air before coughing a bit more, but it seemed the main obstruction had been the beans. I filled up a cup with some water, putting it down for him.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked.

“Cough! I-I didn’t do it on purpose…” the teen said hoarsely, gratefully taking the water and taking a sip. “S-sometimes food gets stuck, I-I can’t help it…s-sir…”

“What do you mean you can’t help it?” I asked. The boy just slowly shrugged, sipping more water. I rolled my eyes. Kid probably wouldn’t be around long enough to care.

“Take smaller bites,” I said, giving him a smaller spoon.

“I-I’m sorry—”

“Shut up.”

He took forever to finish his plate now, so I took the chance to take a powernap in the living room. When I woke up an hour later from the alarm I set, I returned to the kitchen to make some coffee, finding Erick asleep at the table. He’d emptied his plate, probably didn’t dare to get off the chair after. Good.

I was going to let him sleep for a second longer, but he already woke up when I put my cup down a little harder than intended. A little startled and seemingly confused, not realising he’d been dozing off.

“Do you drink coffee?” I asked, considering giving him some if he deserved it.

“N-no sir,” Erick replied quietly.

“Alright, more for me,” I said with a shrug, waiting for the machine to fill up before pouring myself a cup.

It was still too hot to drink, so I left it on the counter for now while I went and unlocked the chain from the ring in the wall, winding it around my hand once to get a good grip, before returning for my coffee. The teen eyed me wearily, probably predicting I was about to move him to a new location.

“Get up,” I said, tugging on the chain a bit while reaching for my coffee.

The teen hesitantly rose to his feet, before following me outside. I could hear him stumble, trying not to trip over the chain whilst also trying to keep up so I wouldn’t pull his feet from out under him. I took him into the shed, making him open the hatch since I had my hands full, before nudging him to walk down the spiral stairs, the chain scraping ominously against the rusty metal steps.

“W-what is this?” Erick asked anxiously, peering into the dark space, the smell of death still lingering. If I could still smell it then he could as well.

“Keep walking,” I said, nudging him further forwards with my foot.

Erick stumbled down the last couple steps, the chain clanging onto the tiles as I followed, reaching past him to turn on the lights while he steadied himself against the wall. Tracy’s body was still covered beneath the paper sheet, but that was about to change as I walked over after the lights buzzed to life, forcing Erick to follow, though he was visibly uncomfortable by now.

“P-please—”

“Hush,” I said, putting my coffee on the tool tray, before pulling the sheet back, watching the teen’s expression change from anxious to shocked, the blood seeming to drain from his face until his skin was a pale grey, before he suddenly turned and found his way to the nearest sink, beginning to retch.

I let him finish while I sipped my coffee, listening to his gagging and coughing, before he finally stopped and was able to catch his breath, sinking to his knees after turning on the water to flush everything away.

“You done?” I asked.

“...a-are you going to kill me?” the teen asked weakly.

“Not while there’s still hope for ransom,” I said, “but that’s between my client and your father. But you can make things a lil easier on yourself if you help me out with a lil something.”

“D-do I have a choice?”

I put my coffee down again, taking the chain in both hands and giving it a good yank. Erick yelped as his right foot was pulled out from under him. I yanked again and he dragged across the floor, closer to me.

“I-I’m sorry! P-please!” he quickly said, uselessly trying to find grip on the tiles to hold onto as I yanked him closer a last time, standing over him.

“You’re going to take the body outside, and you’re going to dig him a nice grave, and you’re not going to complain about it. Understood?”

Erick quickly nodded in reply, to which I have a last warning yank.

“Speak up!”

“I-I understand! S-sir!”

“Then get up and get to work.”

The teen scrambled to his feet, choking back more retches and sobbing as he approached Tracy’s body, hesitating slightly about how to get him off the table, before settling for hooking his own arms underneath the body’s armpits and beginning the slow yet amusing struggle of dragging the literal dead weight back up the rusty spiral stairs.

By the time we finally made it back to the surface, I had long since finished my coffee, so I put the cup aside in the shed and grabbed a shovel before showing Erick where I wanted him to dig. He had to throw up again first though, but not a whole lot came out this time.

Finally we reached the patch of land that used to be rich soil a long time ago. You could sorta see some suspicious patches of grass and wildflowers that had significantly more to feed on than just dust and rainwater, but Erick didn’t seem to notice, so I wasn’t going to get into that. I gave him the shovel, before finding a large rock nearby to sit on.

“If you dig next to the body you can figure out how long the hole needs to be,” I said, pulling my cigarettes out of my pocket while the teen reluctantly began digging.

I smirked amused, before looking down to see how many cigarettes I had left, finding a significantly shorter one with lipstick on it. Thorne’s lipstick. I glanced back over to Tracy’s body, before shaking my head and picking out the shorter cigarette, relighting it and beginning to smoke. Women would only bring trouble in this job. Especially women in the same line of work.

#villain's view #VV #writeblr #whumpblr #whump writing #oc whump #cafekitsune #<-banner credit

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its-to-the-death · 11 months ago

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Songs that made it through preliminaries (minus the MLP songs)

Rogues Are We (Holy Musical B@man)

Kick It Up a Notch (Starship)

Nerdy Prudes Must Die (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

Join Us (and Die) (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals)

No One Remembers Achmed (Twisted)

Feed Me (Little Shop of Horrors)

Dentist (Little Shop of Horrors)

Mean Green Mother From Outerspace (Little Shop of Horrors)

Old King Cole (Once Upon a Time in Space by The Mechanisms)

Favoured Son (Ulysses Dies at Dawn by The Mechanisms)

Odin (The Bifrost Incident by The Mechanisms)

There's a Platypus Controlling Me (Phineas and Ferb)

Evil for Extra Credit (Phineas and Ferb)

All the Convoluted Reasons We Pretend To Be Divorced (Phineas and Ferb)

I Love You (As Much As Someone Like Me Can Love Anyone) (Galavant)

No One But You (Galavant)

She'll Be Mine (Galavant)

Mother Knows Best (Tangled)

Ready As I'll Ever Be (Tangled the Series)

Nothing Left to Lose (Tangled the Series)

Pretty Women (Sweeney Todd)

Dancing Mad (Final Fantasy VI)

When the Chips are Down (Hadestown)

Master of Masters (Kingdom Hearts)

U.N. Owen Was Her? (Touhou 6: Embodiment of Scarlet Devil)

The Old Man of the Mountain/You Gotta Ho-De-Ho/The Scat Song Medley (Betty Boop)

Our Love is God (Heathers)

Biskit Family Business (Littlest Pet Shop)

We Both Reached For the Gun (Chicago)

Heaven on Their Minds (Jesus Christ Superstar)

Good to Be King (Journey to Bethlehem)

Jester (Legends of Oz: Dorothy's Return)

Sympathy for the Devil (song by The Rolling Stones)

Dressed to Oppress (Play It By Ear - The Muck of Merkmere)

One Step Ahead (Spies Are Forever)

Let the Pun Fit the Crime (Wander Over Yonder)

Necrostar (The Vice Quadrant by Steam Powered Giraffe)

Lost in Thoughts All Alone (Fire Emblem: Fates)

The Ring motif (Lord of the Rings)

I'm Alive (Next to Normal)

Where There's a Whip, There's a Way (Return of the King 1980)

There Ain't Nothin' But Bad Days Ahead (The Swan Princess: Mystery of the Enchanted Treasure)

Les Poissons (The Little Mermaid)

It's Our House Now (The House of Mouse - Halloween special)

Grandpa's Gonna Sue the Pants Off Santa (Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer)

Master of the House (Les Miserables)

Peaches (The Super Mario Bros. Movie)

The Boys Are Back In Town (To Kill You) (The Boys)

Dark Riders (Star Stable Online)

Grand Ceremony (Pyre)

Coraline (Coraline)

Better Than You (Camp Camp)

In the Hall of the Mountain King (Peer Gynt)

Get in the Water (Epic: The Musical)

Descole's theme live version (Professor Layton)

Isabella's Lullaby (The Promised Neverland)

Get Jinxed (League of Legends)

Pieces of You/Hologram Professor Song (Puppet History)

Great at Crime (Epithet Erased)

Davy Jones' theme (Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest)

Herbert Style (Club Penguin)

No One's Gonna Make a Monkey Out of Me (The Donkey Kong Country cartoon)

Diddy Drop Rap (The Donkey Kong Country cartoon)

Attack at the Wall (Mulan)

No More Toymakers to the King (Santa Claus is Comin' to Town)

What's Up Duloc? (Shrek musical)

If I'm Gonna Eat Somebody (It Might As Well Be You) (Ferngully)

The Phantom of the Opera (The Phantom of the Opera)

Prowler's theme (Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse)

How Can I Refuse? Reprise (Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper)

Friends in Low Places (Bigtop Burger)

That's Not How the Story Goes (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

The World Revolving (Deltarune)

Heffalumps and Woozles (Winnie the Pooh)

Waikyou Shenshoujin (Senki Zesshou Symphogear G)

No Good Deed (Wicked)

Fabulous (High School Musical 2)

Kidnap the Sandy Claws (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Between Two Worlds (Limbus Company)

Your Best Nightmare (Undertale)

We Don't Talk About Bruno (Encanto)

Jaws theme (Jaws)

The Executioner (Umineko no naku koro ni)

#villain song showdown

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climbthemountain2020 · 9 months ago

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Hope of Spring - Chapter 14

Also on Ao3!

Find Chapter 13 here :)

Penny was a disheveled disaster when she woke up in the morning after only two hours of sleep, but she still absolutely sprang out of bed to send the parchment to Tamlin before the sun was even peaking over the mountains.

Hi, it’s me. I miss you. She scrawled across the sheet.

It disappeared in a wisp of smoke, and Penny waited with anticipation. She decided she might as well get dressed while she waited, but then she all but tripped over her own pants as she heard a curl of paper hit the desk in the room, trying to get back to it. She grasped the paper in her hands like a woman starved.

Hello, love. The manor is absolutely empty, as is my heart, while you’re gone. I miss you terribly.

She sat back onto the bed, giggling and blushing while she took the quill to write her response.

Has my mighty High Lord been turned to a poet in my absence? She grinned as she sent it off. Gods, she felt like a teenager again, kicking her feet wildly on her bed at the prospect of talking to someone she was interested in. How could he have such an effect on her?

You’d be amazed what poetry I could recite to you. The response came almost immediately.

I’d like to be amazed at what additional acts your mouth might perform. She sent it off before she could change her mind, cheeks already blazing despite the activities they’d spent the last week pursuing in their bed.

My, my. Penny Briggs, you rake. Come home to me and let me show you all the different ways I can recite poetry and where.

Penny’s blush deepened to a million shades of scarlet and held the parchment to her chest, forcing herself to take a deep breath.

Your offer is too good to refuse, my Lord. I will be home tonight–we’ve got some additional training today, but I can’t wait to be back with you. I love you. She sent it off and went to pull the rest of her clothing on, tying her hair back into a low braid and using the leather strap she’d stolen from Tamlin’s dresser to tie it off. She liked having a piece of him with her, regardless of where she was.

I love you too. Knock ‘em dead. She sighed, smiling like an idiot, and went downstairs to see who else was awake for breakfast

________________________

Feyre walked Penny out to the back yard near the Sidra to get past the wards of the River House.

“I let Rhys know we would be back soon to see what we can do with Elain’s power. This shouldn’t take too long–a quick detour!” She had that sly grin on her face again that Penny was quickly coming to associate with her and her mate. Feyre had a large bag slung over her back along with a bow and stash of arrows. She handed Penny a dagger. “You won’t need this, but just in case. We’ll be in the woods.”

“Wait, what–” She didn’t get the words out before Feyre grabbed her and winnowed. They landed roughly in a deep forest, moss and trees and lichen as far as she could see. Feyre was already setting out a blanket she’d brought, tossing two fluffy cloaks and a freshly headless chicken in a burlap sack onto it. Understanding dawned on Penny as Feyre stepped away, hands on her hips, appraising her set up.

“Are you summoning a suriel?” Before Feyre could answer her, a shiver crept up Penny’s spine. A voice that seemed to echo through the woods from no traceable direction spoke with the voices of countless others.

“Feyre Archeron.” The voices whispered. “We are always happy to assist.” A cloaked figure drifted from the trees to the waiting blanket and reached to thumb over the cloaks Feyre had left. Feyre threw herself down casually onto a nearby log as if this were the most normal, casual conversation she’d ever had, while Penny stood, gaping.

“I am seeking help for my good friend, Penny.” She gestured to Penny, who was practically vibrating at the scene unfolding just feet in front of her.

“Your friend is not of this world.” The suriel turned its depthless eyes on Penny. “Penelope Briggs. A traveler, indeed. A friend of the Cursebreaker is a friend of ours. What do you wish to know?” The suriel unclipped their current cloak and swung a new one upon their shoulders, as if they were simply old friends catching up over tea. Penny sent an unsure look to Feyre, who in turn gave her a reassuring nod as if to say go on then.

“My world. Uhm. My home. What happened? What sent me here?” Though the suriel’s face could not reflect emotion, Penny felt more than saw the sorrow in their eyes.

“The home you knew is gone. Your soul, departed. It was diverted here. Into this form in our world,” She gestured softly at Penny.

“Gone? What do you mean gone? The world itself?”

“On the night of your great fall, Penny Briggs, a candle caught fire to your home while you slept. You were dreaming of adventure–dreaming of Prythian. Once your mortal body ceased to be, your soul diverted here, believing it to be a sanctuary. There is no home for you to return to,” the suriel’s curious voice whispered gently.

Penny thought she’d be more surprised, upset even, to find she had died. This wasn’t all some dream. She’d died there in her bed, dreaming of taking baby steps forward in a life that left her unfulfilled and sad. She was more relieved than anything. This was real–this was real now. She didn’t have to worry about finding a way back, or grapple with the lack of drive she felt to do so.

“Am I immortal?”

The suriel began snacking on the chicken, causing Feyre to smile broadly. “What do you feel?”

Penny considered. “Powerful. Beyond measure.”

“You are correct. If you wish to know of your lifespan, my advice is that you should stay with your High Lord,” they shot a pointed look at Feyre. “The one you’re already with, to be clear.” Feyre cackled. “I imagine the two of you have many centuries left together.”

Penny was filled with a joy beyond measure. Tamlin. Her mate. Her love. They would have that time together.

“Thank you. You have no idea what this means. Thank you.” Her voice was bogged down with rough emotion. Nodding at them both, the suriel made to leave with their cloaks and what remained of the chicken.

“Wait!” Penny shouted, as they turned to go. “What cloaks are your favorite? Just in case we see you again. Do you like fur or something lighter? Color preferences?”

The suriel let out a sound that Penny thought might have been a laugh. “You are going to leave this world a better place than you found it, Penny Briggs. Black, preferably, any material. Soft.” Penny nodded. “Until next time, High Lady.”

Penny looked back, expecting the suriel’s eyes to be on Feyre, but they were solely focused on her as a smiling Feyre winnowed them away.

________________________

Feyre and Penny returned to the River House in the late morning, finding everyone awake and discussing plans in the library. Rhys thought they might attempt to pass Elain’s power to Penny, then they could all settle in and have lunch, as Elain’s visions were not always frequent or timeable. Penny figured she might have some time to digest what she’d been told by the suriel, and perhaps she could even begin on Rhys’ list of questions.

She went upstairs to get her things together so they’d be ready to go when they finished up. The parchment on her desk lay empty from earlier, so she scribbled on it quickly:

About to begin practicing with Elain. I miss you so much. I’ll be home soon.

Penny changed back into her favorite leather pants, soft green tunic, and leather corset top. She braided her hair back into another plait with Tamlin’s leather, then nodded to herself in the mirror. She finished packing, went to splash some water on her face, then re-laced her boots, hoisting her bag over her shoulders to leave down in the foyer. The parchment hadn’t come back, but she assumed that at midday, he was probably out on border patrol so they wouldn’t need to worry about it when she returned this afternoon. She smiled–she felt silly for missing him so much after just a day away, but she was ready to throw herself into his arms when she arrived home.

Penny came back down to the dining area and set her bag by the door. Elain was already there with a plate full of food, and clasped Penny’s hand to bring her to sit with her. Things with Elain were easy–Penny felt like she was conversing with an old friend. Elain was kind and easy to like. She smelled like pears and lilacs and honey, and a bit of Lucien, too. The way he doted on her was amazing to watch, the two of them so impossibly in love with each other that it radiated through the room. Lucien always had a hand on Elain, and vice versa. She knew that this mating bond had taken time and patience, but it seemed to have paid off. She hoped her patience would one day do the same.

“I can’t stop eating, I swear. I’ve always sort of just picked through the day, but now I could put the baker out of business.” She turned to Lucien, eyes suddenly large. “Oh, speaking of, could we go to the baker later today? Maybe we could get some of those chocolate eclairs with the dollops of cream with the cinnamon?” Lucien just chuckled, but nodded warmly at her, running a hand down her cheek.

“Of course, love. We can go after lunch.” Elain smiled and leaned her head against Lucien’s shoulder. Penny’s heart clenched violently at the sight and she was almost physically overcome by the need to be with Tamlin. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her today that had her feeling the need to be back by Tamlin’s side so fervently. Was this just the mating bond chafing at her distance? She visualized the golden ribbon, swirling in the mists as usual, but it seemed to whisper go to him, be with him, go to him, be with him. She had read that the mating bonds were demanding, but this felt more urgent than just missing him. As soon as she had the vision, she was ready to be back home.

Suddenly, the room went quiet. Penny’s eyes whipped up to Elain’s, which had gone milky white. She gasped, but before she could get a word out, she was sucked back into a vacuum of dark space. For a moment, it felt like she was floating, but then she slammed into what looked like a live battle. Penny whirled around, immediately on alert as swords clanged violently around her and the screams of the wounded pierced her ears. Her breathing was labored as she spun wildly trying to figure out where she was and what had happened. Had she accidentally winnowed somewhere dangerous? She had never winnowed before–she wasn’t even sure how to.

She turned as a bird of flame flew through the sky above her, scattering embers on the wind behind her as she gave out a great cry. Vassa. She understood now–this was a vision. Vassa’s light illuminated the bloodstained snow on the banks of a lake as darkness flew out of a small, onyx box. At the last moment, Penny understood the box was in her hands, and then she catapulted back into her body into the River House. She gasped a deep breath into lungs that felt heavy as people gathered around her and Elain, who was clearly coming back more peacefully than she had.

“It’s okay, Penny. The first few transitions are rough.” Elain put her hand on Penny’s as she panted.

Rhys wanted to see into both their minds and compare the visions as they came back down, so he began with Elain. Penny was still thinking back, noting that onyx box she’d seen in detail. The shadows that burst out of it were nothing like Rhys or Azriel’s shadows.

When he was finished with Elain, he looked in to see Penny’s vision, allowing her to view it start to finish one more time. Someone shoved a glass of water into Penny’s hand and she sipped it, shaking violently, trying to steady her pounding heart.

“They’re different visions,” he spoke, casting them in sequence into the minds of everyone in the room. Elain’s vision had been one of Autumn Court soldiers marching over fallen leaves, then trampling on flowers, breaking the stems and leaving them smashed and dirty in their wake. Everyone seemed shocked, and Penny immediately began to worry that Elain’s vision meant an attack on Spring.

“We’ll have additional forces on standby ready to go into Spring if need be,” Feyre said. “I’ll go ahead and send the missives now to be on alert.” She got up to go to the study.

“This is good, though, right? Two visions means twice the Seer power?” Everyone nodded. “Now we just see how long it lasts outside of contact, and if it can sustain the distance.”

Elain took Penny’s hand again and nodded. “It is good. You did wonderfully, and you will be tired now. I was exhausted after a vision for a while once they started. Until I got used to it, at least. Let’s take a few minutes to breathe, and once we bring you back to Spring, you’re under strict instructions to rest.”

Rhys spoke up. “Yes, good plan. Elain and I can winnow you back to Spring together so she’s the last person you touch.” He turned to Elain. “Will that be okay for you? Just a quick winnow and back?” She nodded, and led Penny to the dining room.

Before she could approach the table, though, that vacuum pulled her back and the glass she was holding shattered on the floor. All eyes were on her as she came to with hysteria gripping her.

“We have to leave now.” She gasped out. “Tamlin is in trouble. They’ve breached Spring.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #tamlin #tamlin x oc #elucien #tamlin oc #feysand #gwynriel #tamdemption #tamlins hea #hope of spring

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istumpysk · 2 years ago

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Victarion I (Victarion II) [Chapter 63]

My little bozo! 🥰

The sea was black and the moon was silver as the Iron Fleet swept down on the prey.

They sighted her in the narrows between the Isle of Cedars and the rugged hills of the Astapori hinterlands, just as the black priest Moqorro had said they would.

There was no one, even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames. - Melisandre I, ADWD

Let's see.

+1 for Moqorro.

+.+.+

The man spoke no decent tongue but only a guttural Ghiscari, full of growls and hisses, as ugly a language as Victarion Greyjoy had ever heard. Moqorro translated the captain's words into the Common Tongue of Westeros. The war for Meereen was won, the captain claimed; the dragon queen was dead, and a Ghiscari by the name of Hizdak ruled the city now.

Victarion had his tongue torn out for lying.

Hizdak, lol.

Harsh but fair punishment. You shouldn't lie.

Victarion seems to be trying to emulate Euron throughout this chapter. He's now cutting out tongues.

+.+.+

Daenerys Targaryen was not dead, Moqorro assured him; his red god R'hllor had shown him the queen's face in his sacred fires.

+2 for Moqorro.

+.+.+

The captain could not abide lies, so he had the Ghiscari captain bound hand and foot and thrown overboard, a sacrifice to the Drowned God. "Your red god will have his due," he promised Moqorro, "but the seas are ruled by the Drowned God."

Only a cultured man would honour the traditions of others.

+.+.+

"There are no gods but R'hllor and the Other, whose name may not be said." The sorcerer priest was garbed in somber black, but for a hint of golden thread at collar, cuffs, and hem.

Rude.

Be a Victarion, not a Moqorro.

+.+.+

There was no red cloth aboard the Iron Victory, but it was not meet that Moqorro go about in the salt-stained rags he had been wearing when the Vole fished him from the sea, so Victarion had commanded Tom Tidewood to sew new robes for him from whatever was at hand, and had even donated some of his own tunics to the purpose. Of black and gold those were, for the arms of House Greyjoy showed a golden kraken on a black field, and the banners and sails of their ships displayed the same. The crimson-and-scarlet robes of the red priests were alien to the ironborn, but Victarion had hoped his men might accept Moqorro more easily once clad in Greyjoy colors.

Bad guy? Show me a villain who feeds, clothes, and houses a man in need.

Moqorro wearing Greyjoy colours is hilarious. Dam-phair is having a fit somewhere.

+.+.+

He hoped in vain. Clad in black from head to heel, with a mask of red-and-orange flames tattooed across his face, the priest appeared more sinister than ever.

Sometimes the text misleads you, and sinister looking people aren't always what they seem.

This is not one of those times.

+.+.+

But Moqorro knew these strange shores in ways the ironborn did not, and secrets of the dragonkind as well. The Crow's Eye keeps wizards, why shouldn't I? His black sorcerer was more puissant than all of Euron's three, even if you threw them in a pot and boiled them down to one. The Damphair might disapprove, but Aeron and his pieties were far away.

So Victarion closed his burned hand into a mighty fist, and said, "Ghiscari Dawn is no fit name for a ship of the Iron Fleet. For you, wizard, I shall rename her Red God's Wroth."

Such a touching gesture!

More trying to emulate Euron.

+.+.+

The next day a sudden squall descended on them. Moqorro had predicted that as well.

+3 for Moqorro.

+.+.+

The iron captain had no time to wait for laggards. Not with his bride encircled by her enemies. The most beautiful woman in the world has urgent need of my axe.

Antagonist where? All I see is a prototypical romantic hero.

+.+.+

Besides, Moqorro assured him that the three ships were not lost. Each night, the sorcerer priest would kindle a fire on the forecastle of the Iron Victory and stalk around the flames, chanting prayers. The firelight made his black skin shine like polished onyx, and sometimes Victarion could swear that the flames tattooed on his face were dancing too, twisting and bending, melting into one another, their colors changing with every turn of the priest's head.

When the cliffs of Yaros appeared off their larboard bows, he found his three lost ships waiting for him, just as Moqorro had promised. Victarion gave the priest a golden torque as a reward.

+4 for Moqorro.

The chanting and flames dancing, twisting, and bending is very Mirri Maz Duur.

+.+.+

"The black priest is calling demons down on us," one oarsman was heard to say. When that was reported to Victarion, he had the man scourged until his back was blood from shoulders to buttocks.

Find yourself a man who doesn't stay quiet in the face of racism.

+.+.+

This time it was a Myrish cog named Dove, on her way to Yunkai by way of New Ghis with a cargo of carpets, sweet green wines, and Myrish lace. Her captain owned a Myrish eye that made far-off things look close—two glass lenses in a series of brass tubes, cunningly wrought so that each section slid into the next, until the eye was no longer than a dirk. Victarion claimed that treasure for himself.

Who wouldn't love a man with such intellectual curiosity?

+.+.+

"Grey skies and strong winds," Moqorro said. "No rain. Behind come the tigers. Ahead awaits your dragon."

Your dragon. Victarion liked the sound of that.

The tigers control Volantis now.

After a century of war, Volantis found herself broken, bankrupt, and depopulated. It was then that the elephants rose up. They have held sway ever since. Some years the tigers elect a triarch, and some years they do not, but never more than one, so the elephants have ruled the city for three hundred years. - Tyrion IV, ADWD

I have a Volantis prediction.

+.+.+

The crew had taken to calling him the Black Flame, a name fastened on him by Steffar Stammerer, who could not say "Moqorro." By any name, the priest had powers.

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal." - Daenerys II, ADWD

It's time to open your heart and let R'hllor in Daenerys.

+.+.+

"The coastline here runs west to east," he told Victarion. "Where it turns north, you will come on two more hares. Swift ones, with many legs."

And so it came to pass.

+5 for Moqorro.

Calling it now. Melisandre is bush league compared to this.

+.+.+

And like the captain of the Ghiscari Dawn, the captains of the galleys repeated the lie that Daenerys Targaryen was dead.

"Give her a kiss for me in whatever hell you find her," Victarion said. He called for his axe and took their heads off there and then. Afterward he put their crews to death as well, saving only the slaves chained to the oars. He broke their chains himself and told them they were now free men and would have the privilege of rowing for the Iron Fleet, an honor that every boy in the Iron Islands dreamed of growing up. "The dragon queen frees slaves and so do I," he proclaimed.

"No. Your Grace, forgive this one her outburst. Your slave's name is Missandei, but . . ."

"Missandei is no longer a slave. - Daenerys III, ASOS

There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march."

"Freedmen," Dany corrected. "They are slaves no longer." - Daenerys V, ASOS

"Your slave Missandei." Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

"My servant. I have no slaves." Dany did not understand. - Daenerys II, ADWD

"How kind of my old friend to help with the digging. And how very unlike him. Is it possible he was given no choice in the matter? No, surely not. You have no slaves in Meereen."

Dany flushed. "Your friend is being paid with food and shelter. - Daenerys III, ADWD

+.+.+

The galleys he renamed Ghost and Shade. "For I mean them to return and haunt these Yunkishmen," he told the dusky woman that night after he had taken his pleasure of her.

Is that a clue? Vic renaming the ships Ghost and Shade when he might be the walking dead is funny.

+.+.+

He wondered if this was how his brother Aeron felt when the Drowned God spoke to him. He could almost hear the god's voice welling up from the depths of the sea. You shall serve me well, my captain, the waves seemed to say. It was for this I made you.

But he would feed the red god too, Moqorro's fire god. The arm the priest had healed was hideous to look upon, pork crackling from elbow to fingertips. Sometimes when Victarion closed his hand the skin would split and smoke, yet the arm was stronger than it had ever been. "Two gods are with me now," he told the dusky woman. "No foe can stand before two gods." Then he rolled her on her back and took her once again.

I looked into it and the indestructible smoking hand thing is not typically experienced by people who are alive.

Anyway, this is so refreshing coming off an Asha chapter where Stannis is too little of a man to be a multi-faith king like Vicky.

Not only that, Vic is also capable of having sex with a woman.

+.+.+

Now he had a choice to make: should he risk the straits, or take the Iron Fleet around the island? The memory of Fair Isle still rankled in the iron captain's memory. Stannis Baratheon had descended on the Iron Fleet from both north and south whilst they were trapped in the channel between the island and the mainland, dealing Victarion his most crushing defeat. But sailing around Yaros would cost him precious days. With Yunkai so near, shipping in the straits was like to be heavy, but he did not expect to encounter Yunkish warships until they were closer to Meereen.

What would the Crow's Eye do? He brooded on that for a time, then signaled to his captains. "We sail the straits."

Stop asking yourself what Euron would do! Ask yourself what Vicky Godhand would do.

Being trapped at Fair Isle while enemies descend from both sides must be coming up for a reason.

+.+.+

"Where is this Dothraki sea?" he demanded. "I will sail the Iron Fleet across it and find the queen wherever she may be."

The fisherman laughed aloud. "That would be a sight worth seeing. The Dothraki sea is made of grass, fool."

Shut your mouth. Be quiet. Nobody say a thing to me.

+.+.+

He should not have said that. Victarion took him around the throat with his burned hand and lifted him bodily into the air. Slamming him back against the mast, he squeezed till the Yunkishman's face turned as black as the fingers digging into his flesh. The man kicked and writhed for a while, trying fruitlessly to pry loose the captain's grip. "No man calls Victarion Greyjoy a fool and lives to boast of it." When he opened his hand, the man's limp body flopped to the deck. Longwater Pyke and Tom Tidewood chucked it over the rail, another offering to the Drowned God.

Appropriate. That's what should happen to bullies.

+.+.+

"Your Drowned God is a demon," the black priest Moqorro said afterward. "He is no more than a thrall of the Other, the dark god whose name must not be spoken."

"Take care, priest," Victarion warned him. "There are godly men aboard this ship who would tear out your tongue for speaking such blasphemies. Your red god will have his due, I swear it. My word is iron. Ask any of my men."

The black priest bowed his head. "There is no need. The Lord of Light has shown me your worth, lord Captain. Every night in my fires I glimpse the glory that awaits you."

I suspect the priest in talking with tongue firmly planted in cheek.

+.+.+

Those words pleased Victarion Greyjoy mightily, as he told the dusky woman that night. "My brother Balon was a great man," he said, "but I shall do what he could not. The Iron Islands shall be free again, and the Old Way will return. Even Dagon could not do that." Almost a hundred years had passed since Dagon Greyjoy sat the Seastone Chair, but the ironborn still told tales of his raids and battles. In Dagon's day a weak king sat the Iron Throne, his rheumy eyes fixed across the narrow sea where bastards and exiles plotted rebellion. So forth from Pyke Lord Dagon sailed, to make the Sunset Sea his own. "He bearded the lion in his den and tied the direwolf's tail in knots, but even Dagon could not defeat the dragons. But I shall make the dragon queen mine own. She will share my bed and bear me many mighty sons."

This Dagon history lesson sounds a lot like current events.

+.+.+

The sea was green and the sky was grey the morning Grief and Warrior Wench and Victarion's own Iron Victory captured the slaver galley from Yunkai in the waters due north of the Yellow City. In her holds were twenty perfumed boys and four score girls destined for the pleasure houses of Lys. Her crew never thought to find peril so close to their home waters, and the ironborn had little trouble taking her. She was named the Willing Maiden.

Victarion put the slavers to the sword, then sent his men below to unchain the rowers. "You row for me now. Row hard, and you shall prosper." The girls he divided amongst his captains. "The Lyseni would have made whores of you," he told them, "but we have saved you. Now you need only serve one man instead of many. Those who please their captains may be taken as salt wives, an honorable station."

I adore how much he loves clowning his own dumbass fanbase.

+.+.+

The perfumed boys he wrapped in chains and threw into the sea. They were unnatural creatures, and the ship smelled better once cleansed of their presence.

She hates perfume too!

I wonder if Vic knows about Euron, Urrigon, and Dam-phair.

+.+.+

For himself, Victarion claimed the seven choicest girls. One had red-gold hair and freckles on her teats. One shaved herself all over. One was brown-haired and brown-eyed, shy as a mouse. One had the biggest breasts he had ever seen. The fifth was a little thing, with straight black hair and golden skin. Her eyes were the color of amber. The sixth was white as milk, with golden rings through her nipples and her nether lips, the seventh black as a squid's ink. The slavers of Yunkai had trained them in the way of the seven sighs, but that was not why Victarion wanted them. His dusky woman was enough to satisfy his appetites until he could reach Meereen and claim his queen. No man had need of candles when the sun awaited him.

Hey, I think I remember a few examples of candles attempting to replace the sun in this story.

Too bad he's chasing the moon.

+.+.+

The galley he renamed the Slaver's Scream.

How can you not love this POV?

+.+.+

A great cry went up at his words. The captain answered with a nod, grim-faced, then called for the seven girls he had claimed to be brought on deck, the loveliest of all those found aboard the Willing Maiden. He kissed them each upon the cheeks and told them of the honor that awaited them, though they did not understand his words. Then he had them put aboard the fishing ketch that they had captured, cut her loose, and had her set afire.

"With this gift of innocence and beauty, we honor both the gods," he proclaimed, as the warships of the Iron Fleet rowed past the burning ketch. "Let these girls be reborn in light, undefiled by mortal lust, or let them descend to the Drowned God's watery halls, to feast and dance and laugh until the seas dry up."

Near the end, before the smoking ketch was swallowed by the sea, the cries of the seven sweetlings changed to joyous song, it seemed to Victarion Greyjoy.

Hard to not be deeply affected by this.

Granting those girls the privilege of entering into those cleansing fires, so their spirits might rise free and pure to ascend into the light. Beautiful.

+.+.+

A great wind came up then, a wind that filled their sails and swept them north and east and north again, toward Meereen and its pyramids of many-colored bricks. On wings of song I fly to you, Daenerys, the iron captain thought.

The man is a poet.

+.+.+

That night, for the first time, he brought forth the dragon horn that the Crow's Eye had found amongst the smoking wastes of great Valyria. A twisted thing it was, six feet long from end to end, gleaming black and banded with red gold and dark Valyrian steel. Euron's hellhorn. Victarion ran his hand along it. The horn was as warm and smooth as the dusky woman's thighs, and so shiny that he could see a twisted likeness of his own features in its depths. Strange sorcerous writings had been cut into the bands that girded it. "Valyrian glyphs," Moqorro called them.

That much Victarion had known. "What do they say?"

"Much and more." The black priest pointed to one golden band. "Here the horn is named. 'I am Dragonbinder,' it says. Have you ever heard it sound?"

"Once." One of his brother's mongrels had sounded the hellhorn at the kingsmoot on Old Wyk. A monster of a man he had been, huge and shaven-headed, with rings of gold and jet and jade around arms thick with muscle, and a great hawk tattooed across his chest. "The sound it made … it burned, somehow. As if my bones were on fire, searing my flesh from within. Those writings glowed red-hot, then white-hot and painful to look upon. It seemed as if the sound would never end. It was like some long scream. A thousand screams, all melted into one."

"And the man who blew the horn, what of him?"

"He died. There were blisters on his lips, after. His bird was bleeding too."

I'm not sure how to expand on these thoughts, but it feels like we're talking about Daenerys.

+.+.+

"A true tale." Moqorro turned the hellhorn, examining the queer letters that crawled across a second of the golden bands. "Here it says, 'No mortal man shall sound me and live.' "

I see loopholes!

No mortal man, but what about a dead man or a woman?

+.+.+

Bitterly Victarion brooded on the treachery of brothers. Euron's gifts are always poisoned. "The Crow's Eye swore this horn would bind dragons to my will. But how will that serve me if the price is death?"

"Your brother did not sound the horn himself. Nor must you." Moqorro pointed to the band of steel. "Here. 'Blood for fire, fire for blood.' Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn's master. You must claim the horn. With blood."

I'm pretty sure Moqorro uses Victarion's blood to claim the horn in TWOW.

They left him one by one. The three thralls, and then Moqorro. Victarion would not let him take the hell-horn.

"I will keep it here with me, until it is needed."

"As you command. Would you have me bleed you?" - Victarion I, TWOW

It's impossible to make sense of any of this when you can't trust a thing Moqorro says or does.

Final thoughts:

Vic finally gets a chapter with his name! Couldn't tell you why.

Remind me to look for evidence of him sleeping or eating in TWOW. Nothing so far.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #victarion i #victarion ii

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surveillance-0011 · 2 years ago

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Rahab and moon should fight to the death. Put them on death battle

#the ocean hunter #the house of the dead scarlet dawn #house of the dead #the house of the dead #moon house of the dead #moon type unknown #.txt #rahab the ocean hunter #sega

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randomnoob92728 · 5 months ago

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I don't know how big The House of the Dead arcade game series is on here, but it's literally my favorite game series of all time despite its flaws, and i want to rant about it even if no one sees this. Major spoilers for those who haven't played the games btw.

When they announced the remake of The House of the Dead, I was so excited bc I grew up playing 2 & 3 for the Wii, and still play to this day and never got the chance to play 1, 4, or Scarlet Dawn.

After playing 1, it gave me so much more insight as to how certain reactions work in depth for 2 and especially 3. 3 is very important to have knowledge of 1 about before playing, because it makes the true depth as to what they were trying to accomplish really sink in. For 1, Rogan and G go through Curien's mansion and what not, and go through a lot of grief trying to kill their way to Curien himself. 1's impact on 2 isn't as major as it is for 3, but it's still very important because it shows James and Gary interacting with G, and G mentions the Curien case. If you had no prior knowledge to 1, then you would think this G fellow is just another AMS agent who read up on the file of some giant case that happened nearly 2 years prior instead of someone who was actually there. 1 really sets in stone how important G is to the franchise, and continues that trend for 2 and 3. 1 also reveals how important Rogan is to the overall story with the reveal of him being Lisa's father, along with knowledge of Curien's importance with his history with Rogan, makes the reveal that Daniel is Curien's son so much more important. The final fight with Daniel and Lisa is so important because it has the children of two people who were sworn enemies fighting together against the one who started the franchise. I could probably yap about more stuff relating to this game, such as how in depth G really is and how massive the implications of his character is for the franchise, and for the message that he sends to the gaming world, but I'm too tired for that rn. Thank you and goodnight 😴

Side note: there's at least one big boss and one animal boss in each game, and I think it's funny enough to point out.

#the house of the dead #the house of the dead 2 #the house of the dead 3 #G #Rogan #arcade #video games #Curien

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rvchelking · 1 year ago

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—OCS as OBSCURE ASSOCIATIONS, pt. 2

I was tagged by @perpetuagf in this fun little game. thank you! i thought i would explore my two (recently) new ocs: Samantha Hill (House of Ashes) and Scarlet (Baldur's Gate III) so there we go! I'll tag @stacispratt and @strafethesesinners

ANIMAL: otter. a butterfly. maybe a sand cat.

COLORS: red and white!

MONTH: late september.

SONGS: brave new world by kalandra; sound of war by tommee profitt x fleurie; breath of life by florence and the machine

NUMBER: either 2 or 13

PLANTS: red rose with occasional thorns, tulips and dried herbs

SMELLS: raspberry; the smell of the forest after the rain

GEMSTONE: red obisdian.

TIME OF DAY: sunset.

SEASON: autumn.

PLACES: deep deep forest, desert island, balcony with vines

FOOD: apple pie with cinnamon, red juicy apple, sugar cubes

DRINKS: cherry wine

ELEMENT: water.

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: libra; virgo; cancer

SEASONINGS: anise and saffron.

SKY: red skies at dusk, dark blue before the storm.

WEATHER: cloudy and misty.

MAGICAL POWER: mindcontrol.

WEAPONS: the magic that runs in her blood.

SOCIAL MEDIA. probably none.

MAKEUP PRODUCT: lipstick.

CANDY: cotton candy.

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: teleporting.

ART STYLE: light and space.

FEAR: becoming a mind flayer.

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: well, since she's an elf, that would be forest elf! but like, a cunning and quiet one, not a rascal.

PIECE OF STATIONARY: bookmark.

THREE EMOJIS: 🧚🏻‍♀️🎲🌿

CELESTIAL BODY: the moon.

ANIMAL: puma; capra genus (since she's an archaelogoist and she can climb )

COLORS: grey, dark brown, beige

MONTH: either april or november.

SONGS: sacrifice by zella day; phoenix by league of legends ft cailin russo, chrissy costanza; another reason by fifth dawn

NUMBER: 7

PLANTS: vines

SMELLS: old books, the smell of sand, freshly baked bread

GEMSTONE: black tourmaline.

TIME OF DAY: right after midnight.

SEASON: early winter.

PLACES: abandoned buildings, archaelogical sites, egypt and iraq

FOOD: steak and fries, chicken broth

DRINKS: craft beer, earl grey tea

ELEMENT: fire and earth.

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: scorpio, gemini, virgo

SEASONINGS: chili powder.

SKY: clear blue skies.

WEATHER: the storm.

MAGICAL POWER: speaking dead languages.

WEAPONS: an ice pick :P

SOCIAL MEDIA. instagram or blogspot.

MAKEUP PRODUCT: perfume.

CANDY: sour candy.

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: helicopters.

ART STYLE: Egyptian Revival! also does sumerian cuniform count?

FEAR: losing jason kolchek.

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: tbh not to be a hater (I love you Sam), but i'd say demon. but not like, destructive. she'd be extremly smart and tactical. she'd make pacts with others and always win.

PIECE OF STATIONARY: a pen.

THREE EMOJIS: ⛰🌑⛏

CELESTIAL BODY: 50% mars 50% venus.

#oc: samantha hill #oc: scarlet #tag games

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anyonghalimaw · 1 year ago

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i fucking love house of the dead scarlet dawn first and foremost coz my boy chariot is in 4k but also HOW DID THEY MAKE THE VOICE ACTING EVEN WORSE THAN HOTD 3 WHICH CAME OUT IN 2002??????? ITS SO BAD. ITS FUCKING AMAZING. I LOVE IT. EVEN THE FUCKING VOICE THAT SAYS "THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD" IN THE INTRO IS WORSE THAN THE ORIGINAL GAME FROM 1996

#vic.txt #ONE OF THE BEST LINES IS “YOU USE SELECTIVE WORDS! WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING?!”#AND “THE FUTURE LOOKS PLURAL. BUT IN TRUTH THERE IS JUST ONE” LIKE WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN #OK THORNHEART LETS GET YOU BACK TO BED GRANDPA

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prythianfm · 2 years ago

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the reverberation of clashing steel throughout the chamber rivals the screams torn from cracked throats. the horrors are everywhere — upon the most hallowed of battlefields — the finality of a well - aimed arrow, the severing of a peregryn’s wings, the sickening gurgle as blood bubbles from mortal lips. though the battle just shies from the strike of an hour, it is an eternal engagement for those fresh from a decade of conflict. guarded by the lord of night, the wolf of winter and a line of valiant defenders, the lord of light pores over sinister spellwork like pale gold in the dark. it is a complex weave of magic, the precarious give and take requiring far more than the high lord can offer alone — sovereign entities will always desire what they are yet to possess. and as minutes surpass his tedious workings, so do the lives of the surrounding courts. it is almost as if he converses with the cauldron itself, murmuring to nothing, eyes milky white and soulless as his physique is consumed by a radiant gleam and then doused like a flame — something akin to a bargain made — an unseen force reaching forth to steal the strength from the nearest source. in a flash of eclipsed light, the spell is cleaved and the cauldron splinters, fractured by power pulled from the high lords of night and day. nulled abilities return to their hosts in a rush, swiftly igniting the threshold in a spectrum of elemental hues. free of his spectral bonds, the lord of night mists the masses into particles of scarlet and shadow, wiping out the remaining adversaries throughout the mountain in one fell swoop before he is brought to his knees. the rancor ceases. and somewhere, the crown clatters to the basalt floor, swiftly swept up and winnowed away by one of the night court’s inner circle.

in the days that follow, the dead are gathered, the traitors imprisoned and the wounded slow to heal. the lord of light rouses from his dreamless slumber, temporarily devoid of all power and fractured in mind, the cleaving of a spell manufactured by the cauldron and its camouflaged employ having come at great cost. potent faebane is left to course through the lord of night, taking its toll, its time to purge from the blood with efforts of a healer spread betwixt a plethora of ailing victims, leaving his body and its power measured in its restoration due to the scope of his wounds. but when he rises, the dawn court is led from their cells to stand trial within the very throne room in which had only just housed grandiose terror. each subject is brought to kneel upon a vermillion stained ground which will never be scrubbed clean. the lord of night scours their minds despite his tire, not a synapse left untouched, appeasing, at least, those who trust him once he acquits them of purposed treachery, and makes plans with the dawn court’s high lord to see to the cauldron’s scholars and guards next — as the skirmish under the mountain was but a distraction for a far more tempting target, the candor of which is realized long before the dawn court’s messenger winnows in: the cauldron is missing, but the wall still stands … for now.

the battle beneath the mountain has come to an end, bringing with it a new array of complications and fears. the surviving mortal queens have fled to the mortal lands with renewed thoughts of war, the once neutral dawn court has become the target of cautioned behavior, pieces of the dread trove have resurfaced and the cauldron is missing, all presumably the beginning advances of hybern, or so it may seem. but before the courts depart from under the mountain, it is decided that the summer and winter courts, which border hybern to the west, are responsible for safeguarding the border as well as conducting reconnaissance of their own surrounding hybern’s movements. the autumn and spring courts will attempt contact as well as negotiation with the mortal queens in regards to the reformation of their army, and provide placation to the rising hysteria throughout the mortal lands. the dawn and day courts — alongside their scholars and spellcasters — are tasked with both researching and tracing the cauldron for its use of power and location. and whilst the night court searches for the unaccounted pieces of the dread trove to better the efforts of locating the cauldron — like calls to like — they will be split throughout the courts in support of each mission, whenever and wherever needed.

prythian will now be operating on an open world system, meaning travel between courts and territories is both encouraged and expected as characters carry out their respective tasks ( any threads written as letters between muses will also count as activity ). feel free to log your character’s movements in the character events channel should it help you plan, plot or generally keep track of their comings, goings and doings — we also ask that you tag all threads with location due to the open world environment. as usual, all threads from past chapters may be continued until their respective ends, but all new threads ( with the exception of flashbacks or members which joined during the event that have planned threads yet to hit the dash ) should be in accordance with the new timeline. you will also find a detailed list of deaths and injuries in the chapter updates channel. please direct any questions to our ask admins channel, the main or open a ticket if necessary ! lastly, thank you for making another chapter possible — we look forward to exploring the continent with you !

#prythian.chapter

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