#the return of daud
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#would they be good at asmr#daud#dishonored daud#daud dishonored#dishonored#knife of dunwall#the knife of dunwall#the brigmore witches#brigmore witches#Dishonored: The Return of Daud#Dishonored: Death of the Outsider#death of the outsider#dishonored outsider#dishonored death of the outsider#arkane studios#bethesda#bethesda softworks#asmr#asmr sounds#autonomous sensory meridian response#asmrtist#polls#fun polls#random polls#tumblr polls#character polls#fandom polls
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How successful would Daud…
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#could they be a pro wrestler#daud#dishonored daud#daud dishonored#knife of dunwall#the knife of dunwall#the brigmore witches#brigmore witches#dishonored#dishonored au#Dishonored: The Return of Daud#Dishonored: Death of the Outsider#arkane studios#bethesda softworks#the whalers#michael madsen#video game#gaming#tumblr polls#polls#character polls#fandom polls#wrestling#wrestling polls#poll time#hyper specific poll#poll game#wwe#professional wrestling#pro wrestling
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i’m still thinking about the way billie phrases her surrender in the knife of dunwall’s low chaos finale: kill me or let me live, if it even matters to you. the fact that they're even there to have this conversation is proof of how this decision must have weighed on her; with her training and her skills and daud's mind scattered in a hundred different directions, she likely could have followed delilah's brutally practical advice to cut his throat and be done with it once and for all. but she hesitated until the final moment of reckoning when their narrative had finally come full circle, from daud placing a knife in a child’s hands to give her “something to live for”, to her returning it in defiant supplication years later ("my life is yours now"). yet, despite her certainty in the inevitability of this moment, she still can not be sure of such a decision burdening him as it did her until the very moment he must make it in turn. it's part of what makes the ending so poignant to me, whether in sparing her and echoing his first words to her (now giving her a life unburdened by the ticking clock hanging over him), or clasping the knife together with her as she only smiles and nods back in understanding, and holding her hand long after she is gone—it's then that you see how much it mattered to him as well. and the unspoken grief of it not only ending the game, but also leading to the only bookend of the dlc's to have no narration from daud. it's the outsider who must take over then to chronicle the tale, as he had to for corvo. for daud, the rest is silence.
#i just think it's very Interesting that this moment's immediate aftermath is the only one in which daud is completely silent#a certified corvo moment. when there is a hole in the world and the only one who can speak about it is the one entirely outside of it#anyway. do you think the outsider had a laugh when a very much at the end of his rope daud#had to spend much of the remainder of said borrowed time resolving the fallout of another gang's betrayal situation#dishonored#games tag#📘.txt
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Honestly, one thing about DotO which always bothered me is how Billie seems to be so lonely in her journey. And not in a way of "she is a lone-wolf" but in a literal sense of loneliness and not-belonging. It almost feels like it is her first day in Karnaca, a city where she doesn't know a single thing or person. Which isn't true. I know that a lot of people have already talked about this, and so I won't jump into the depth of criticism. Treat this post as a bunch of thoughts which occurred to me in my first playthrough.
Firstly, there is no recognition from different people. Stilton, for example. In DH2 she was ready to battle her way to his house and help him, she payed with her blood, her eye and her arm. And yet in DotO we don't see any valuable mentions of this man. Yes, we have a photo in her cabin but that's it! Nothing more nothing less, just a photo which exists in the cabin only to show us, the player, the Void rifts. Almost like it was never meant to actually represent their relationship, just a funny mechanic of the game.
Maybe I don't understand her character to that extent but when I firstly played and heard Billie's monologue about the state of the Dreadful Whale, I had a thought. Was there no one who could help her with that? And my first thought was Stilton, especially after I saw their photo together. But alas she didn't mention anything like that which was completely fine… till the The Stolen Archive mission. With a plot progression things became absurdly stupid. Billie learns that the cult uses Shindaerey as their hideout. And what is Shindaerey? It's a literal mining quarry.
And so you want to tell me that Billie who I know, cunning Billie, who was, by Daud's words, extremely good at unsolving mysteries, won't at least ask Stilton about this quarry? She won't ask a mining baron of Karnaca? Really? Give her skills some credit! I'm not asking for a 5 minute long cutscene but at least a small panel in the pre-mission briefing where Billie talks to him about that, and where we can see how worried he is for her. She is not alone and, no matter what, there is still at least one person who remembers her, sees her and wants the best for her. But again, for whatever reason Billie has no valuable connections in this game, it seems. So it didn't happen.
Two other people about which I keep thinking about are Thomas and that person who borrowed Billie's skiff and returned it during the Follow the Ink mission.
If that note from a certain T. was actually from Thomas I can't think of good enough reasons not to include some of the letter which might happen in between them during the events of the game. Thomas knew that both Billie and Daud were in Karnaca but he didn't know that Daud had died. And honestly an unfinished letter from Billie to him where she tries her best to write about their master's death but just can't - would be absolutely gut-wrenching and insightful. Also it could be interesting to see the difference in how Billie is talking about this event and how she is living through it in reality. Because - obviously - people's internal and external dialogues would be different and seeing that difference in Billie would help us, the player, to understand some shapes of her character.
Or maybe Thomas would learn about Daud's death himself somehow, maybe he could recognize Billie's work as she goes though the city to uncover its secrets. And, finally, it would be simply fun to find a small lootstach from Thomas on one of the missions, accompanied with a letter from him. How is he now? What are his thoughts about Billie? How do her actions are seen by the common folk? Or by the gangs? After all, a good character is not only divided by how the story sees that character but also how this character sees themselves and what other people in the story are thinking about this character. And, as I already said, this small letter exchange between Billie and Thomas could cover up those aspects.
And so we are left with only one character whose presence and absence in Billie's story bothers me. That person who borrowed the skiff. Because the skiff was Billie's main link between the shore and the Dreadful Whale. We learnt from DH2 that in any port there would be a “fee” for leaving the ship there, later, in DotO she complains that hiding her ship wasn't an easy task. So whoever borrowed it must be a good friend of Billie, as absence of the skiff puts her in a bad and potentially dangerous situation. Besides there is a note by a certain M., which talks about meeting with Billie later. I was kinda excited to see who this person might be. Someone whom I already know? Character from the first game? Maybe from the second one? Would it be a howler or black market dealer? Would they give me some special mission akin to one that Emily can get in the Royal Conservatory mission? Well, should I say that I was left wondering as there was not a single special NPC which met the criteria.
What? I forgot about someone? Deirdre? Oh, right. Deirdre. The best person in Billie's life and the worst death in Billie's memory. Right. It's almost too easy to forget that she exists, as Billie talks about her approximately two times in the game? More or less so. Should she talk more about her? Maybe, I don't know. But I remember thinking about using the rat charm in the Void or in the quarry. I thought that in the Void I could hear the real Deirdre speaking, this idea gave me chills back then. To adjust to the voice of your loved one's from rats, only to hear her cursing you for all you have done or to call you from beyond. I thought that she would appear somewhere in the Void, just in the corner of my vision. But again it didn't happen. And I don't know for better or for worse. As in the current state if you want to completely strip her out from the game - you won't lose a single thing. After all, a rat charm is just a rat charm, and so is a voice in it, as it never changes and never really speaks to Billie, it was never a personal matter.
Overall, I don't want to be another person who throws rocks at DotO as, honestly, I like Billie and I'm just… sad, I guess. I'm sad that the game about such a character fails to make me think more of her. I'm sad that the plot of this game was kinda ruined with a terrible script. And, at the end of the day, I'm just sad that Billies didn't get her chance to shine in her own game.
But nonetheless I still like Billie and, at least, her sarcastic comments on the surrounding was always a delight to hear, so I'm gonna replay this game one more time in vain hopes to find what I see in it.
#dishonored#death of the outsider#billie lurk#aramis stilton#thomas the whaler#i mean they are in this post so yeah why not#yes this post lacks bri but im gonna be honest with u guys#i completely forgot about her when i fistly played and this post is about my firts exp with this game so yeah#no bri slender i love her i just have bad memory#and i doubt i can bring anything new to her chara at this point of fandom meta talking#so yeah sorry :[#dt (stands for doni talks)
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There are some good reasons for "Dishonored: Death of the Outsider" not to have done this, so I can't just put it down to a simple lack of time or resources, but I still kind of mourn the absence of the narrative punch that would have been forcing Billie (and the player) to travel all the way back to the Dreadful Wale after The Bank Job.
Because in the vault during The Bank Job, when the player has reached the goal of the mission, the Outsider informs Billie that Daud has passed away while she was doing this. At this moment of success, after finally getting her hands on the knife that made the Outsider, the game delivers a painful emotional punch to Billie Lurk.
The Outsider even does it personally, perhaps out of courtesy, perhaps intentionally making himself the target of Billie's furious grief. Could be both. I lean more towards the latter motivation. The Outsider throughout this game is not attempting to preserve his current state and status at all, he's obviously doing far more the opposite here.
It would be a looooong walk back to the Dreadful Wale all the way from the bank. I believe there would have been at least one loading screen(???) in between. Unless the game specifically made the effort to populate the map with some new obstacles or NPCs with new dialogue and/or new and haunting music, which would have been a lot of additional work, I think that a lot of players might have found that long journey more than a little boring.
But I also find that sort of slow, punishing journey a little appealing, as a follow-up narrative punch. The player would be left to wonder whether or not the Outsider was telling the truth. There would be an increasing sense of dread, returning to Daud with the knife in hand, knowing what Billie will find while also not knowing for certain. Climbing into the Dreadful Wale, going down into its guts, clicking on a closed door, which would activate a cutscene in which Billie falls to her knees before the bed.
Personally, I don't really like the new art style for the overview exposition stuff at the beginning/end of missions in "Dishonored 2", so I felt a little cheated to see such a big emotional beat happen off-screen and be related after-the-fact in this style. I respect the fact that it might have been a lot of work, but I would have preferred even a brief fully animated and acted scene in-game of Billie Lurk making that discovery for herself and reacting to it. I think it's a strength of video games to be able make their audiences play through some uncomfortable scenes.
Adding new obstacles to The Bank Job map for the aftermath of getting the knife could have made the level way too long, and something too exciting also could have arguably interfered with the sense of grief and dread that already does exist as Billie leaves the bank. Nevertheless, it also could have been cool for some alarm to be raised after Billie leaves the bank, blocking off some streets with new obstacles, forcing Billie to improvise yet again.
One of my favorite "Thief" levels is the one where you're in some noble estate stealing shit and the noble gets assassinated while YOU, an intruder dressed up like an assassin, are stuck in the house. The job changes on you in the middle of the mission. It's a real "oh, shit" moment. That level of trapped urgency is probably way too much for the end of The Bank Job in D:DotO here, but I think a shift in obstacles and atmosphere could work well.
I don't think that the obstacles have to be particularly hard to avoid. A ghost player could slip by them. More violent players could have a grieving Billie use the knife to take her emotions out on people.
Alongside obstacles or in their absence, I also think it would have been cool to put new NPCs on the streets with new dialogue. If you want to be especially heavy-handed about it, you could put some kind of funeral procession on the streets. To avoid a barricade, maybe Billie has to go through a window and slip through some kind of memorial service. If you want to be more light-handed about it, you could simply have NPCs comment on the weather or their surroundings in order to build up a particular atmosphere of dread. Have people complain about how their loved ones are always late to everything. Have someone talk about how someone else they know is a liar, you can't believe anything he says. Have someone give up on their dreams and say that nothing matters anymore.
The most powerful thing that can be done, emotionally speaking, is probably a new musical piece for Billie's walk back to the Dreadful Wale. (Also the easiest thing to add, maybe??? Good music alone elevates visual and interactive works incredibly.) Something particularly noticeable and haunting that overtakes the rest of the level. Not something loud, necessarily, but something unignorably different that feels like it's following Billie's every footstep home. Up until Billie reaches the Dreadful Wale and everything goes quiet as she has to find Daud herself.
Again, a lot of fiddly work, potentially, for arguably little return when there are presumably more important elements to work on and a deadline to meet. Nevertheless, not getting to see this heavy emotional beat, a tangible and discomforting follow-up and closure to the Outsider's revelation within this mission, feels like a missed opportunity to me. The moment gets summarized away when, because this is a video game, you could have forced players to really live it.
I also feel sad that we didn't get to see the Dreadful Wale burning or its wreckage. Like, I know that could have been a lot of asset and animation work, but I still think it could have been cool to have the player start the next mission standing on the seaside somewhere, looking out at the last pieces of the Dreadful Wale, before having to walk away. It could have been cool to look out from Billie's eyes as she prepares the boat to be burned, then flash forward as she lights a match, then flash forward as she's watching the ship burn from a distance. The fuzzy time skips and silence showing us just how badly Daud's death has hit Billie.
Maybe the game would have had to have us walk straight into a loading screen to go somewhere else, that's fine!
It's disappointing to have big story moments happen in these little summary videos, when some of my favorite parts of the "Dishonored" series are when they make the player live out something unpleasant as much as possible, like Corvo being poisoned by the conspirators and then found by Daud and the Whalers afterwards. I get that it's easier and faster and sometimes generally better to get through that exposition that way, but there are points where it feels weak, where the moment would have been better happening from the protagonist's overwhelmed and reeling perspective. Like an opportunity for a really good storytelling punch unfortunately passed over due to lack of time and resources.
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They Had to Die (3/3)
Corvo Attano enters Dunwall tower fully intending to kill the Lord Regent. It doesn't work out how he intends.
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Read here or on Ao3 (9292 words)
Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)
--
Time passed Corvo by like the leviathans of the sea drifting past the small fishing boats. Nothing for an eternity, and then suddenly all at once, far too vast to truly comprehend in its entirety, only to be replaced by the wide nothingness again.
He drifted in out of consciousness, never quite lucid enough for a firm thought as fever ravaged his mind. Liquid fire howled through his veins like the dust storms plaguing his birthplace, tossing him about to its whim with no chance of finding his way again.
And then came the nightmares.
Masked figures, plucked straight out of the worst moments of his life appeared in his vision like the spectres they were, crowding over him, eclipsing the sky.
Detachedly Corvo waited for the familiar terror to grip him its claws, but nothing came. Nothing but the all-encompassing pain that left no room for anything else in the hollows of the lifeless puppet that Corvo had become somewhere along the way.
"T̴̞̿̽́hiś̶͓͚̼͆̕ ̶̙̈̀͠i̶̬͚͗̒͑s̵̻̎̒ ̶̡̬̱̐̅́t̵̹͕̫̆̇he ̷̠̲̈́̎͠one ̶̧̲̏͛̉who ̨̀wa̶̻͐̀s̛̮͎̀͗ ̷̱̋̂͝w̷͉̆͑it̶̻͆̅ȟ̴̡̧͊ ̶̦̭̚th̵̘͓̀̌͗e̴͚͍̖̒ ̷̧̈́ Empress ̴̛͉͛͠w̴̪̺̑͝h̷̟̘͐en̵͖̱̏̀̃ ̴͌͜s̴͙̼̎͗̅h̶̖͊̚e̶̖͋ died.̵̺̪̋" One of the shadows came closer, gripped his jaw and yanked his head around. "P̵͚̲̋̊̈́̒̓̾o̶͈̮̺͕͙̐ͅi̴̙̥̊sõ̶̢͉̙͋̋̿͝n̴̞̙͑̔̑͝e̵͚̒̃̇̌͆d̴̰͖͔͙̳̂́̉̎͐̈͜͝.̢̺͚̙͎̜̀ ̴̯̬̱͑̎͋̄T̴̛��̯y̶̥̗̬̝̋̾͊̐v̵̛̰̬͚͕̬̈̀̓̈̽̊ĩ̝͕̞̲͇̍͜͜a̷̛͔̯̣͑̑͗̒́n ̶̫̱͓̀͆͆͐̕͘͘s̴̲̄̃́̐̂̐͜͠t̵̡̩͉̪̒̎̿͒ǘ̷̮̖̬̀̓̃͜f̴̛͕̂̿f̶͕̥̫̜̠͎͝ͅ"
"A̶̧̼̾͊m̶̙̀ä̴͙̰͇̌te̴͖̥̹͘͠ur̶̡̿ ̵̛̰̈́ẅ̶̺ǫ̷̼̖͌͑r̷̲̥̰͋͂ḱ̵̪̝ͅ.̶̜̟̎͆ ̴̧͊͝H̴̖̆̑e̴͖̲̳͗̑'̵͔̕l̵̤͇̉ͅĺ̷͇̓͛ ̴̭̔͐̀l̶͔͊̈́̉͜ǐ̵̫͇̼͐̑v̵̟͙̌̍͜e̶̹̙͐̚.̷̧̟̿̔̕"
"T̵̞̞͓̈́̀͝h̶̠͈͂̎̋ả̘̲̄ṯ̷̈́'̴̳̑̈́̔s̶͚͝ ̶̡̗͑u̷͔̼͂̕p̶̦͐̈́ ̴̼͋̾ť̷̢͕̗̈́͂ö̶̖̘͈ ̴̪̞̓̅̚Ḑ̵̭̜̐̓aų̶̪͆͜d̵̰̥̐.̴̬͝" They let him go again, left him to die a slow death in the hollows of the world, but didn't vanish. They stayed, always hovering just in the corners of his vision, vultures waiting for their prey. Would they be his punishment? A permanent reminder of his failures? It seemed fitting.
For another long time all that was was the beating of his heart. Strong and steady against his chest. Irritatingly so. It felt more like it should be racing like lightning in his limbs. Or stay still entirely. Instead the beating was almost a comfort, a reminder of something else. Of... Of Jessamine, playfully sprawled over his body, when she didn't want him to leave for the night. Of Emily, tucked into his chest when bringing her to bed.
It was a comfort he didn't deserve, but one he clung to anyway.
The beating felt stronger for it.
Then the spectres returned.
One of them grabbed him, hauled him up. The resulting jostling ignited the whale oil sizzling in his veins and with a choked sound his vision went white.
There were flashes. Moments of tentative awareness. Tight arms around his ribcage, those horrible masks in front of his face, the world sliding away, further and further, tiny in his vision, far away and ungraspable in the way of dreams.
Daud appeared, and very suddenly the world snapped back into focus.
Daud. An abstract issue before, a vague idea, a face on poster, a potential, but nothing more. Then the spectre haunting every crevice of his being, waking or sleeping. And now right in front of him. The man who'd murdered Jessamine.
Something hot and ugly roared in Corvo, burning even the pain to cinders. It ripped at him, violent and demanding, shook his limbs and rattled his teeth.
The assassin was saying something, speaking in a strangely calm manner, even with his voice as rough as the cragged cliffsides of Shindaerey peak. The words didn't register to Corvo, couldn't penetrate the bright hot haze of rage.
His wrists burned, hotter than before, and distantly he recognized that he'd tried to rip them out of the cuffs he'd been tied into.
The assassin didn't even seem to notice.
Instead he manifested (was handed? Everything but Daud was a blur with less substance than the Void), a strangely ornamental box containing something that seemed important and yet couldn't be further from Corvo's mind when everything within him demanded blood. His own or Daud's, at this point he wasn't sure it would matter. Not when- not when Jessamine was dead. Killed by his hand. (Daud's or Corvo's? Both were true.)
His throat constricted. It was so hard to breathe.
When the assassin threw the box away, down into an abyss that Corvo didn't have the mental capacity to make sense of, he flinched anyway, reached for it, even as he knew it was pointless. Something roared in his ears, loud and unstable and all-consuming as his vision shifted again, back to the nightmare in red. The nightmare didn't seem to notice how the world tipped off its angles. No wonder, when he himself had so thourougly shoved it off. He only looked at Corvo for a few moments as everything around them swayed.
"T̶̝̀hr̶͔̎o̷͚̅ẅ̴́͜ ̶͎͐ȟ̴̹ḯ̴̡m̵̮̿ ̶͕͘i̷̤̔ǹ̴̜ ̷̼͝ţ̵͗h̵̻̑e̶̪͌ ̷̪̉br̷̖̈́i̵̘̾g.̷̯͘ ̶͔̏A̵̮̅nd̴͕̈ ̣dr̷͎̒y̶̥̚ h͎́i̷̝͑ṃ̷͘ ̴͙̏off̴̫͊ ̵͍̆f̷̠̋ì̶̦r̴̲̈́st̴͎̕, h̷̗͘ȧ̶̧v̶̟́i̷͈̅ṉ̷͠g̵̗̔ ̵̡̏h̖̃i̴̦̇m̷͚̉ d̵̪͘i̴̗̎e̶͈͘ ̴̯́ȏ̷̮f̶͉̌ ̴̼́ṕ̷̖n̷̳̍e̶̤̐ǔ̵̱m̵̗͠o̴̟̓n̶̼̄i̶̟͛a̶̠̅ w̶̺͝ȏ̶͔u̷̦͝l̴̪̓d̷̹̈́ ̴̦̈b̵̞͆ẻ̴̯ ̵͍̓ì̵̯ndi̶̗̒gna̷̳͂n̵̥͝t̶͗ͅ ̷̨̀f̶͙̅o̴̢̐ŗ̷͐ ̴̤͒b̵̥͐o̵͈͋t̵̰̿h̶̲͝ o̵͕͂f̷͝ͅ ̴̬̄ù̴̺s̴͈̈́.̴͈̈́"
Pain exploded through his head. Violent and sudden it turned his vision white again.
The air smelt of salt, and Crovo drowned in the ocean until all there was was whale song.
-
When Corvo awoke, truly awoke, it took him a good while to try and decipher what had been fever dream and what real. His results were not promising. He'd been betrayed. Again. In much more violent fashion than he ever would have expected. They had Emily.
Rage and terror warred in his head at the thought, neither would help him in the moment and so he banished both. His fists still shook anyway.
Samuel, poor old Samuel who had never deserved to be pulled into any of this, had lied for him. Had put him on a boat. Had gotten him out before- before the traitors could notice he wasn't quite dead yet and rectify their mistake.
Somehow he'd ended up in Whaler territory. He didn't exactly have a good grasp on his movements, but considering the currents and the fact he could still hear water rushing from hole he now found himself in, he'd most likely ended up in Rudshore. He was tired enough to almost appreciate the assassins' ingenuity and audacity. Rudshore had been uninhabitable for years now, even before the plague. He had assumed, with what now seemed like unforgivable arrogance, that no one could possibly have remained in the old financial district after those first few days when the dams cracked and had turned the streets into a death trap. But of course back then, just six months ago even, he hadn't yet known that the Knife's reputation was not simply skill and a good helping of smoke and mirrors. Hadn't truly believed in the Abbey's stories of heresy and magic. (Would it have helped if he had? Could he have-) Magic. That was how they survived out here.
They had thrown Corvo into what seemed like a dilapidated foundation pit for an industrial exhaust vent but not before they had taken his equipment from him. And there had been- Daud. Daud had taken his equipment and had tried to goad him with it. Corvo shuddered and immediately clenched his teeth when the movement irritated his tender muscles. The memories of the assassin were hazy, tinted with pain and terror and anger but he distinctly remembered the box, and the way Daud had sounded strangely calm. Looking back he vaguely recalled some talk of the mark, of motivations, but it all fizzled away into the hot and cold showers running through his body.
Slowly, far too late, terror shot through his chest, and with some fumbling Corvo shoved his hand into this coat, which the Whalers had left him with for some reason he was not ready to try and decipher, grabbing for the familiar, not quite real form snugly tugged against (into?) his ribs. The Heart responded, pulsed against his reflexively clenching hand.
These waters are greedy. They will never give back what they have taken. He didn't know if the sadness in her voice was real, or if his crumbling mind only begged to hear it. Gently he pressed the grotesque item to his lips, his shoulders sagging with some small relief. He wasn't sure which option he would prefer.
They will return me yet. He soundlessly mouthed the words against the leathery skin more on some old instinct to assure her rather than true intent. He never had found out if she could hear him.
But return him the waters would. Bleeding and broken maybe, but he would force them to release him anyway. He'd lived. Against all other intents he'd lived, because of Samuel's help, because of the Outsider's interference, because of dumb luck, because of all of it or nothing, but as much as he just wanted to lie down and die at this point, he wouldn't waste the gift. He wouldn't-
His throat constricted and he choked on the thought.
He couldn't fail Emily again. As long as she drew breath he would as well, no matter how painful.
And they couldn't kill her. (Couldn't kill her yet anyway, but even the hint of the idea threatened to take his breath again and so he desperately quashed it.) The traitors would need her to legitimise their claim. It made bile rise in his throat to think of- of his daughter, of her daughter, of their daughter void take everything, being used like that, but he'd grown very good at ignoring nausea in the last six months. Even when it made his hands shake.
The others at the pub of course were another matter entirely. Who would have been in on the plot to kill him? Martin, certainly. Nothing happened at the Pub without his knowledge. Havelock who bad handed him the glass. Pendleton who had stared at him the entire time before drinking it. He didn't- he didn't think there would have been another one. Wallace, maybe. Not Lydia and Cecilia, the high *lords* had barely noticed them at the best of times. They wouldn't have thought to include them. Sokolov, potentially, but then Havelock had tried his best to piss off the Royal Physician, so he would have been just as likely to refuse out of spite even had he been offered. And Piero wouldn't have been included in the planning, had at most decided to shut his mouth and keep his head down. He could... He could work with that. Would need whoever he could get to keep the city afloat eventually, even if he would never trust them again. He only hoped anyone would still be alive by the time he could get back.
His pulse still pounded in his head, but the need to get out and find Emily burned hotter now that he had some sanity back. Corvo slid the Heart back to where it usually rested, somewhere between his coat and inside his ribs, and heaved himself up. For a moment the ground wavered under his feet, but eventually it passed, leaving him steady enough to at least stand. A look around the small pit he'd been thrown into revealed that the assassins were either shockingly inattentive or had overestimated the time it took him to wrestle himself out of the poison's grip. Or perhaps their magics simply made them ludicrously overconfident.
At the bottom of the pit lay a few clay bricks, presumably thrown down here as trash. The pit itself was covered only with a layer wood planks so waterlogged he could smell it without turning his face up.
Corvo picked up a brick, solid and heavy, so not a trick at least, assured himself there were no close noises outside, and when he heard none threw the brick with all his strength against the wood. It shattered immediately with the force, drizzling him with splinters. None of them went into his eyes, so he ignored it.
He could almost feel the phantom fingers of Jess draw through his hair to fish out the dirt and rubble as she tsked at him in disapproval. She'd always cared more about his hair than he ever had, had liked brushing it with his head in her lap, making him promise to never cut it.
With how his eyes burnt, some dust must have fallen in after all.
No one appeared to check on the noise and Corvo blinked up the ledge, nearly tumbling back down when the effort softened his knees. Despite the humidity his mouth and eyes felt dry, perhaps from the poison, perhaps he'd simply cried out any tears still left in him.
Careful to avoid any noise he looked around for anything that might help him. His gear was gone, though if he could find his way back to whatever ledge Daud had thrown it off he might even be able to find it again. The stupid box had certainly been recognizable enough. With any luck the mask and sword at least would have survived the fall. They would be helpful in getting back to the pub. For now he would content himself with the whaler sword and the pistol left conveniently right outside his flimsy prison. Had he any pride left at all he might have felt insulted.
Aside from the weapons he also found documents scattered around. Wanted posters, which he quickly discarded, as well as reports. Names on them. Banter. As if they were written by people instead of souless monsters.
Corvo fled before his headache could get any worse. In the opening of the building stood two Whalers in grey coats. To get out he'd need to get past them somehow. The easy way would be pushing one off the ledge and slicing the other one's throat. The deserved way even, after what they did. No one here was innocent, even if they hadn't killed Jessamine, they had undoubtedly killed countless others.
Part of him wondered if one of them might be the Rulfio mentioned in the letter.
He banished the thought and gripped the blade in his hand but it was only replaced with Emily's smile over her colourful drawings and Samuel's assurances.
When he stashed the bodies in a high up corner of the building they were heavy, straining his exhausted muscles, but not quite so heavy as they could have been if breath hadn't still filled their lungs.
He stepped outside the hole onto a rickety bridge comstriction and immediately froze. There were bodies strewn about. Not plague dead, as might have made sense, but Overseers. Uniformed and bloody, lying where they apparently had fallen and no one had taken care of them. They had clearly died violent deaths.
Corvo held no love for the Overseers, had suffered too long under those boxes, under Campbell, had seen too much to believe their righteousness, even now knowing they were technically right, but for a moment he wondered wether he should have killed the assassins after all.
Then he noticed that while they had clearly died violently, none of the bodies were tied up or mutilated in any way not characteristic of combat. Whatever had happened here had been a mutual fight, a few days ago maybe by the decay of the corpses. He saw no whaler bodies, but then they may have taken their own dead and hadn't bothered with the enemy. Or perhaps they had simply come out on top with no casualties.
Finally he gave up debating the ethics of a religious gang war and got moving. Why should he care, he had no love for either of them. Let them pound their heads in to keep each other busy until he could get around to cutting both their heads off.
Corvo snuck his way through the district, ignoring overseer bodies, avoiding encounters with the Whalers where he could, and knocking them out where he couldn't, burying any and all complicated feelings somewhere deep in his chest where they couldn't stop him. Guilt for not avenging Jessmine as he should wouldn't help her or Emily, neither would relief at not adding to the bodies already piling up in the city, or concern what the assassins would do in the future. None of it mattered right now. And besides, who knew how their magic really worked. They might very well be able to tell when one of them met their demise, and where would he be then.
He tried not to think about how if that was the case, they might equally be able to feel unconsciousness.
It wouldn't matter in the end anyway. Daud would die for his crimes, and his magic would go with him. Whether these people deserved death or not, Daud would have to die, for taking Jessamine away, yes, but also to protect Emily. No one would threaten her like this again. Daud would die and Corvo would figure out later if he could feel satisfaction at that and what either answer would make him.
He eventually did find his equipment at the bottom of the Greaves Refinery, still in the ridiculous ornamental box that was so shiny it wasn't missable even covered in mud and surrounded by weepers. The mask wasn't even scuffed and the sword quickly stopped creaking after activating the mechanism a few times. Reliable as always, ready for blooding. The mask grinned at him as if making fun of him for thinking he could be rid of it.
A spark of rage zipped through his chest so fast he hardly recognized it as such until he had to lock his muscles to keep from kicking the chest into the wall. The noise would be reckless and unnecessary, the risk unforgivable and the relief non-existant. The anger dissipated as fast as it come, leaving him again cold and tired.
When he turned to leave and nearly stumbled over Campbell's corpse he couldn't even dredge up the effort to spit on the man. Had he been what the Overseers had come here for and they had inadvertently stumbled into the Whaler stronghold? There was nothing. No satisfaction, for vengeance or justice or simply a threat removed. Not even resentment. As he slowly and carefully worked his way back out the ruined building he pretended the ache in his scars was simply exhaustion and the cruel laughter ringing through his head the spitting of the river krusts outside. It almost worked.
His returned gear once again proved invaluable, the spyglass making it infinitely easier to spot any Whalers before they could detect him, the bonecharms softening his steps to avoid them and the sleep darts keeping his hands clean when he couldn't. Eavesdropping on their conversations when he could get close enough revealed three things. Firstly, all Whalers were wearing some form of voice modulation. They all sounded the same in their tone of voice, only their mannerisms serving to differentiate them. He'd thought at first perhaps it was a matter of control, a way for Daud to exert his will over them, press them all into the same dull mold, but if that was the case it worked terribly. Even with their faces hidden and voices warped they showed personality. The ones in blue were more subtle, but even so it seemed less like a lack of character and more like better control.
Secondly, for a supposedly abandoned district Rudshore felt like a kicked beehive. The Whalers, no matter what colour their stained leathers, were buzzing with nervous energy, entirely unrelated to him. As far as he could tell they hadn't yet noticed his escape. It seemed whatever had happened here that had left dead Overseers strewn across the district had caused a bit of a stir in the gang that still hadn't abated. Unfortunately Corvo had been able to pick up very little about it during his careful scouting, leaving him with nothing to potentially exploit. All he had been able to make out was something about Witches and that Daud himself had left the area for a few days.
It was only fitting for Corvo's bad luck that the man had returned just in time to make everything worse again. Corvo clenched his jaw and filed the information away to check later, once Emily was safe. And once Daud was dead. It couldn't possibly mean anything good for the Knife of Dunwall to have personally gotten involved in something that took him away from the main bulk of his gang for days at a time.
Thirdly, the Whalers had holed themselves up in the Chambers of Commerce with Daud having setup in the old bank director's office, with the only key for the sewer gates. Even if he hadn't intended to kill Daud, he'd have to go through him anyway to get out. Their set-up was a mockery so blatant it managed to cut through the apathy that suffused through his whole body with a blade of cold rage. How high and mighty the Knife had to feel, to have hollowed out and corrupted a government building, to live under the gaze of the Empress and plan her death.
When Corvo finally got close enough to lay eyes on the colossal statue overlooking the district his knees nearly gave out. He shouldn't feel like this, shouldn't feel like the statue might collapse on him any second with it's judgement. Jessamine had always hated it, had only tolerated its existence because parliament had insisted. A pointless move of flattery, but it was paid for out of pocket by the highest members of parliament, and so Jessamine had had no choice but to accept. Only privately, to him, had she shown her distaste for what she'd called the unfortunate spawn of a dickwagging contest.
In that moment it didn't matter that she'd rather have had her portrait hung in the Golden Cat than consider that statue an extension of her, Corvo still felt like his chest was being hollowed out with a blunt spoon. Like he should beg forgiveness from her here, fall to his knees under that stony gaze that was all that was left of her kind eyes now.
The Heart pulsed against his ribs.
In this place of stone and flood, the only warmth to find is the one you bring with you.
The phantom feeling of her hand in his hair, pulling lightly on his ear in admonishment, was nearly enough to finish the job the traitors had started. It burned in his chest, cut off his breath and made him want to scream at the same time. He wanted her back, wanted her next to him to call him a silly idiot and throw a pen at his head, staining his cheeks with ink that he wouldn't wash off the entire day until she would shove him into a chair herself to scrub it off with an exasperated glare and a kiss, wanted to trade his life for hers as it had always been meant to be until the pressure in his chest threatened to burst. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing that would bring her back, nothing that would put the blood back into her mutilated body. All he could do was spill more of it.
He nearly did then, almost propelled himself off the ledge to skewer the Whaler beneath him to let them drown in their own blood as they'd done to her.
In the end what saved them both was the quiet fizzle of a transversal, another assassin stepping up, a third peeking over a railing across the water filled street. The Heart pulsed again, and before he could do anything there was no coming back from, Corvo tugged on foreign veins running through his left arm, the void pumping energy through his body like blood through a heart, and fell back into them. A blink later and he stood on a different ledge, hidden behind a corner and gasping for her air. Away from the statue's gaze, and from temptation. He couldn't afford to lose control now. It didn't matter if they deserved it or not, it didn't even matter if Corvo himself deserved it, it was simply not worth the risk. He couldn't fight all of them, could probably not even fight a few of them with the way poison still lingered in his flesh and made every movement a chore, even with the mark stitching his flesh together. One bad move, one scream, one spell he didn't understand and he would be swarmed with them, and then where would Emily be?
No, the only blood that would be spilled today was Daud's. One death, and it would hopefully disorient the rest of them enough to allow him to slip away. But he would have to stay undetected until then.
The way through the Chambers of Commerce took longer than it should have. Whether it was because of the exhaustion doing its best to suffocate him, the building's precarious state, or the itch to do something constantly stuck behind Corvo's eyes he didn't know. There were some close calls. Whalers who made a turn he didn't expect, or heard him fumble a blink, turning to look for the source of the noise and forcing him to use up yet more of his rapidly depleting stamina to blink away before they could see him. The trek was grueling and did absolutely nothing to get rid of the burning need in his veins, the desperation to do something, to take control, to give Jessamine the only thing he still could.
The final doors to Daud were barred. Not locked, probably, but the last dregs of dark vision revealed a figure behind a desk, and who else could it be but Daud, turned towards the doors. There was no way to open them without alerting the man and even with the need for blood almost clouding his vision, Corvo knew he wouldn't win a direct fight. He had to strike from the shadows, unseen and unexpected. If Daud even had a split second to collect himself, the assassins would be on him immediately.
Blood for Jessamine. Life for Emily.
For a while he crouched in the shadows, tucked between pieces of a fallen staircase and tried not to drown in despair and bitter memories. He knew this spot, had stood here before when Jessamine had come here on official business. He could barely even recognize the dilapidated ruin at the same time as it threatened to swallow him whole in the memory. Without conscious intent his hand found its way into his coat again, grasping for the comfort and horror of the Heart against his skin.
When the sea walls broke, many strange things were drowned and forgotten.
The flat neutrality of her voice nearly had Corvo sob. He remembered her horrified face when a guard had interrupted her meeting and choked out that the dams had broken. He remembered her frantically trying to organise relief and rescue operations and her rage filled speech to parliament days later, condemning those who'd only involved themselves long enough to secure their own holdings. And he remembered her sobbing into his chest the night after, crushed by guilt and regret and helplessness.
Even at her most controlled Jessamine had been full of life, emotions and opinions if you just knew where to look. This phantom of her, leeched of everything that had made her who she- who she had been. It was a horror beyond what Corvo had ever been able to imagine, and yet he couldn't possibly let go of it.
Something clicked quietly.
Corvo's pulse shot up, his hand clenched painfully around the crossbow in his hand, but there was no pistol pressed to his head, no assassin stepping up beside him.
Instead a gruff voice, muffled by wood and distance, started speaking. Not to Corvo, not to anyone, but the slow, meandering tone of someone contemplating out loud.
"So you've lost it all. Ruined at last, Lord Regent. Royal Spymaster. Hiram Burrows. You small, worried man." Daud.
Somehow through all the pain suffusing his body already Corvo could feel his jaw clench and teeth grind. His fingers itched to silence the rough voice rasping against his eardrums as if the man himself was standing right there instead of past a closed door. He didn't want to know what Daud thought about Burrows and his end, didn't care to hear his thoughts on Corvo's failure. But of course the universe didn't care for what he wanted, hadn't cared when it'd let this man kill Jessamine with Corvo helpless to do anything but watch in horror.
"You'll never know how many times I've thought about trying to get close to you again, just to put a piece of sharp metal in your eye." A quiet muted thump like metal on wood sounded from the room. "But now there's no need. You've been taken down by the same apparatus that gave you life to begin with: laws and courtrooms and the mighty swell of public outrage." So he really had succeeded then, in some way. Samuel had been right. In another universe he might have felt something like dark amusement that Daud of all people seemed to appreciate the irony as much as the loyal boatman. In this one the mere comparison made his blood boil anew.
"Good riddance to you, sir. So many schemes you had and so many contracts. How many people did I kill for you? None like the last. None like her. I'd give back all the coin if I could. No one should have to kill an Empress." The heat of rage gave way to a cold so all-encompassing Corvo barely registered the quiet click of the audiograph shutting off. His stomach twisted in on itself until he was nauseous, but if anyone had asked him to name what he was feeling he would have had no answer for them. Cold. Only ever cold. The only warmth in all of Dunwall had been her, and now she was gone.
The Heart pulsed against his hand where it was somehow still tucked into his coat.
Why have you brought me here? Am I meant to forgive this man? No, there is no going back on the path he's chosen.
His thumb stroked calming patterns over its leathery, sickening surface, even as Corvo felt himself both shatter and harden all over again. No, no way back. At the end of the path was only death.
As if the universe had heard him, there was another quiet fizzle and a Whaler stepped out of the shadows, their back turned to Corvo. His pulse sped up, hand reluctantly letting go of the Heart and grabbing his crossbow, but the assassin didn't turn. Instead, as if guided by the Outsider or the universe or fate or whatever other power might be out there, they opened the door.
Corvo didn't give himself the time to wonder why they hadn't simply blinked into the room (it still stung though that these killers could clearly use their magic for far longer and more obscured distances than himself) and instead yanked on the strained slivers of the void in his veins and stepped past the assassin, up the half story on the other end of the room. He prayed the balustrade he remembered was still there, but didn't dare hesitate long enough to check. If the door closed again he might not get another chance.
The railing was indeed still there, waterlogged and more than a little moldy, but more than enough to shield Corvo from prying eyes downstairs for the moment. His pulse hammered in his ears and he fought to keep his breath down, his own fraying life unfathomably loud in his ears. Somehow, somehow, the assassins didn't seem to hear him.
"Master, Attano has vanished from confinement, from the whole area. The men on duty swear they saw nothing." Corvo nearly fainted with relief that clashed with the adrenaline still keeping his body running, bis vision filling with white. No one had seen him. No one was expecting him. He still- he still had a chance.
For a few moments the voices downstairs stayed an incoherent buzz in his ears.
By the time he could see straight again the voices downstairs had quieted down, only the slight creaking of the floorbaords indicating they were still present. Two sets. The Whaler had stayed.
Corvo ground his teeth, but refused to let panic rise again. He'd just... Have to be quick. The noises came from two spots in the room, one right beneath him and one by the window across. That would have to be the Whaler.
A careful glance down revealed him to be right, the masked figure standing by the window, their back to the wall. Daud stood beneath the platform, bent over a desk, an audigraph machine on the side.
The angle was good. He'd have to be careful not to overshoot, but his position would allow him a clear shot on Daud. He could jump off the platform and skewer him before the Whaler could even react. Too quick a death for Jessamine's killer. He hated the thought as quickly as it had come, hated himself for agreeing with it, but in the end it didn't matter. Emily mattered, and Emily needed him to end this quickly.
He knew he was stalling when he threw another look around the platform, arguing to himself that he was being cautious, looking for something else that could be useful. This was clearly a sleeping place Daud's, it had to be Daud's, but the thought of the man sleeping clashed too much with the picture of the monster Corvo needed him to be, a shoddy bed pushed in the corner with a bookshelf next to it. On it laid an unmarked book. Something drew him to it, despite the desperate need at his core screaming to finally do something. The binding was simple, low quality whale skin from the feel of it, and discoloured from age and handling. No title on the front.
As quietly as he could he opened the book, and he was greeted by a somewhat irregular scrawl, not shaky like the writer's hand was trembling, but uneven in the way of someone with neither skill nor care for proper penmenship.
There was a date at the top of the page.
18th Month of Earth, contract fulfi-
Very, very barely Corvo stopped himself from slamming the book shut, his breath going faster. He wanted to throw it away, to burn it, to rip it apart like he wanted to rip its owner apart.
He didn't.
Instead he gingerly shut it and slipped it into his coat pocket. The right one. The book might be useful later, could hold other information on the coup, potential other hideouts if he had to deal with the Whalers again later. It would be a waste to get rid of it. But he couldn't- he couldn't read it that moment. Not then.
A brief glance around the area provided him with nothing else interesting. The shelf was stocked with books, but all of them labelled and at least nominally familiar. His hands trembled as he quickly skipped over the one named 'The Royal Protector'. The chest at the foot of the bed proved locked. His time to stall was done.
Quietly he crept back over to the railing. The Whaler and Daud still stood where he left them, seemingly content to just wait. For him.
Well. They wouldn't wait much longer.
Corvo's breath was short as he gingerly climbed up the railing, keeping his eyes on the Whaler below, watching for any signs of attention. He would only get one shot at this. Daud needed to die instantly, and with him, hopefully, would the assassin's void powers. And while they were busy grappling with that loss, Corvo could disappear and be out of the district.
Too many maybes, too many hopefullys, the Royal Protector in him wanted to scream, but that man had died with Jessamine and what was left could only desperately grasp at the shreds.
Daud shifted slightly forward, a hand braced on the desk, bent over something. Corvo took his chance.
His sword was unfolded in less than a moment. He pushed off the railing, not a sound escaping between clenched teeth.
He aimed, blade pointed directly at the assassin's neck.
And he missed.
The tip of his blade was only a hair's breadth from meeting skin, meeting flesh, carving skull from spine, when the assassin vanished out from underneath him, leaving Corvo's sword to bury itself in the wooden desk instead of soft tissue. The shock of the unexpected landing nearly sent him to his knees, and as he clambered to stay upright a cold numbness spread through his limbs, his vision hazy and breath speeding up. Distantly he recognised it as panic.
No time.
He pushed away from the desk, blade in hand, before he even had time to look, certain the Whaler would be on him immediately. His hands shook.
No blow came. Corvo stood gasping where he'd landed, and only then did he recognize the strange, grey stillness of the world around him. The Whaler remained at the window, shoulders squared and a hand frozen on the hilt of their sword.
Only one thing else still moved.
Daud stood at the other end of the room, armed and breathing heavily, the red of his jacket standing out starkly against the drained colours of their surroundings.
For a few heartbeats neither of them moved.
Then Daud drew his weapon.
"And now we fight, the duel no two others could fight, against the ticking of the clock." The assassin didn't leave Corvo any time to process his cryptic bullshit, and instead raised his hand, the left one, and suddenly a horribly familiar feeling started tugging on him. His thoughts were somehow both entirely silent and incredibly loud, as he felt his feet stumble over the floor against his will. Grabbing desperately at the void he yanked.
The world shifted in a blur for barely a moment, and suddenly Daud was right in front of his face, eyes wide with surprise that Corvo distantly felt echo in himself. The magical tether dropped as Daud blinked away himself before Corvo could gather himself enough to shove his blade through the man's gut.
They circled each other, blades drawn, step by step, the sound vaguely muffled in Corvo's ears. He couldn't feel his feet properly.
Then colour started bleeding back into the world and Corvo knew he was dead. He couldn't win against both Daud and the Whaler in the room, and it wouldn't stay at those two.
Somehow he was both right and wrong.
As life started settling back into its proper boundaries and the assassin by the window tore around, searching for their target, something fizzled quietly and two, three? more whalers fell into reality, ready to tear out his throat and Emily's last hope.
At least with how numb everything was maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.
But their feet had barely touched the ground when Daud roared angrily and lifted his hand again.
"No! This is between me and him, out with you all, now!" The mark glowed through his glove (and why was he even bothering wearing one if it did nothing to hide it anyway?) and once again all colour leeched from the world, giving the assassins no chance to obey or refuse the order. But this time as the life left the world around them it seemed to run into Corvo instead, the freezing numbness replaced with something sharp and burning.
What in the void was the assassin playing at?
He still hurt, his muscles screaming for relief and blood pounding in his head, but with the threat of being overwhelmed at least temporarily out of the way something snapped in Corvo and with a strength he hadn't known he was still capable of he threw himself at the assassin in front of him.
The fight continued, and even as Daud taunted him, cruelties so pantently designed to get under his skin Corvo didn't deign to give him a reaction, he kept renewing the time stop every time it threatened to fall. Even though it clearly wore on the man. After the third renewal he clearly had enough of the assassins crowding the room, placed like statues, their arms outstretched in protest. He blinked past Corvo to the window and stepped outside, vanishing past the frame with only a glance backwards.
For a moment Corvo hesitated. He'd spied the key he needed on a hook behind the desk. He could take it and leave. The stasis would give him at least a minute's headstart and as long as he was out the gates before they found him they wouldn't know where to look for him.
The cutting burning something in him bit at him and he knew he couldn't leave. He didn't bother wasting his limited energy on a blink and simply stepped past the frozen assassins, their masked figures yet another reminder that simply leaving wasn't an option. Something strange was going on, something beyond the magics of the Outsider and the void.
Outside Daud was waiting for him, his face tight with... Something. Not rage, Corvo knew rage well enough. Not quite determination either, but something just to the left of it.
His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by Daud's blade swiping towards his ribs.
They continued for a while, all clashing swords and wills. When the time stop dropped again Daud did not renew it, but even as Corvo quickly lifted his hand to do it instead no Whalers interrupted them. There was some tell tale fizzling that Corvo suspected he only heard because he was listening for it, but no one stepped in anymore. From the corner of his eyes he could catch the occasional glimpse of a uniform across the gap of buildings, behind a crumbling house wall, but no glittering of light on metal or the sound of a crossbow being drawn.
Whatever was going on, it seemed the assassins had accepted their master's demand. Irrational as it was.
Crash after crash they danced across the crumbling building, and Corvo could feel the strain in his body mounting, but Daud was clearly also flagging. His sword arm not quite as firm in blocking Corvo's strikes, his steps not as fluid anymore as they had been when they'd started out.
Another round across the rooftop and Corvo finally spotted his opportunity. A brief hesitation, but opening enough for Corvo to slide his blade past the assassin's sword. He could feel it as steel met flesh, slicing through skin and fat and muscle as easily as the fabric above it.
The assassin's sword clattered to the ground as Daud grasped at his chest and stumbled backwards, blinking over to a crumbled wall where he collapsed to his knees. The hand pressed to his chest did little to stop the blood soaking his shirt.
It was probably why he wore the red coat, Corvo dimly realized as he stared at the other man, his feet like lead rooting him to the ground as everything ached. He should finish him. Should leave. It wasn't safe here, he'd won against Daud, but the rest of the Whalers might-
He'd barely even had the thought when three masked assassins blinked into existence, weapons drawn, their backs to their master. Defending him. Against his command.
Daud was faster than the panic trying to burrow its way through the thick exhaustion filling his head.
"No! Away I said!" Perhaps it was the volume of the angry bellow, perhaps Daud had yet another trick of the void up his sleeve, either way the masked figures scattered again, leaving only the sound of dripping blood and labored breathing behind. Almost impressive how commanding he'd still sounded. Corvo was fairly certain he'd felt his sword graze bone. He knew damn well how much that hurt.
The reminder made the pain throughout his limbs flare up again and his scars ache, a roiling sort of anger flooding through his chest, not quite blinding but pushing.
He stepped closer to the assassin, not sure himself even what he intended do. His bloodied sword hung from his hand, pointed downwards, but clutched tightly.
When Daud looked up at him from the ground it wasn't at all how Corvo expected.
There was no anger in the other man's face. No fear. No manic smugness. Not even confusion. Only pain and that strange tightness Corvo finally recognized as numb resignation. As his own face barely two weeks ago in Coldridge.
The realisation froze him in his tracks. Whatever was on his on face now, in his posture, whatever Daud saw from his spot on the ground in the bizarre skull mask, kneeling in his own rapidly draining blood, it seemed to rattle something loose in him as well and when he spoke next his voice came out somehow rougher than before. Nothing of the commanding growl or taunting drawl left in it. Only a man with nothing left to lose and nothing he thought he could still gain.
"I have one more suprise for you. I ask for my life." There was no time stop this time, and somehow Corvo still felt like the world had stopped for those few moments. Like some colour had drained from their already grey surroundings. Daud didn't seem to notice. Instead the floodgates opened, pouring blood and pain and horror all over the cracked stone, right before of Corvo's feet like a grotesque offering. "When I killed your empress and took her daughter something broke inside of me. Now I see the design on the back of your hand, the mark of the Outsider himself, and remember all I've done. The years of waiting for the right moment to step forward from an alley and drive a knife between the ribs of a noble. All the money changing hands, from one rich bastard to another. Killing for one of them one year, then being paid to kill them in return the next. I remember bending at the shrines, listening as the Outsider whispered that I was going to change things, that I was somehow important. It felt good, made me believe I was powerful. But what have I accomplished? More than you have, or much less. Now I want nothing more than to leave this city. And fade from the memory of those who reside here. I've had enough killing."
The silence was deafening as Daud finally looked away, his eyes glassy from pain, sliding off their surroundings. If he truly saw any of it Corvo would be surprised. Void knew at a certain point the torture chamber Corvo had seen hadn't been the room anymore but only the imprint that never stopped haunting his mind.
"So my life is in your hands. Make your choice." Like a cat offering the hunter a mauled, plague-infested rat. A gift not asked for and not wanted.
For a moment Corvo couldn't breathe, couldn't feel, couldn't hear, he merely watched the other man- no, the sullen husk in front of him spill red over himself. Again. His own this time. Remembered the Whalers he heard talk on the way. Remembered the recording he'd heard in front of the office. Remembered the booklet tucked into his coat.
With numb hand he pulled it out, the other one still clutching his sword like a lifeline. Like a decision. The assassin in front of him startled at the sight, opened his mouth, and then clearly thought better of it. Somehow he sank even more into himself, listing somewhat to the side on his knees. And he waited.
Reading with the mask was difficult, it wasn't exactly designed for close up detail work, but Corvo didn't register it. Bit by bit he read. The entry of the day itself, curt and professional. The day after, detailing more administrative work. Mentions of unease. Day after day the doubts piling up, someone took the sword away, I don't know who, I couldn't touch it anymore until Corvo couldn't bear to read any more, even with months left. The faces of Campbell and Burrows and the Pendleton twins flashed in front his mind. Smug, unapologetic, terrified only in the face of their own comeuppance.
Then his hands started shaking.
He dropped the booklet, uncaring if it landed in the growing blood puddle on front of his feet. He could just so see Daud glancing toward it where it landed with a quiet thump before he grasped the mask on his face, his trembling fingers fumbling with the mechanism before he finally managed to tear it from his face.
The first thing he saw through hazy vision was Daud's frown blinking up at him in confusion. It was quickly replaced by a flinch as Corvo hurled the metal mask at his head with enough force to leave another cut in his forehead.
"How fucking dare you?!" The screaming hurt, tearing at his throat and echoing painfully in his ears but Corvo was beyond caring, had reached the stage of seething rage that could almost have been meditative if it had been caused by anything else. If it wasn't ripping open his chest all over again. Later, exhausted and dead to the world in a different sense, he would vaguely wonder at anything at all having been able to come out of his mouth, but in the moment there was nothing but helpless anger at the horrible injustice of it all.
"Why?! Why does it have to be you? Why only now? Why did it take her death for you to understand?!" Why? Why why why? How could the world be so unfair? To have Jessamine's killer of all people be capable of regret, but only after he'd already done it, had murdered her with no way to fix it anymore? When Corvo would have gladly laid down his life for her a hundred times over to protect her from that sacrifice?
The despair at this cruelty took his feet out from under him, collapsed him to his knees as he could do nothing but sob, tasting iron in the back of his throat as reality broke over his head like a wave in a storm. Too late. Always too late.
He hadn't thought it could be worse. Hadn't even considered the possibility for a moment. But it was worse. To know that it could have been different so easily. That the man who'd taken her from him, who'd taken out the only pillar keeping Dunwall standing, knew damn well what he'd done and was crushed by it.
That she didn't have to die.
It burned so badly, knowing it. It would have been so much easier to simply not believe it. To think the assassin was lying, trying to save his own skin, to see just another piece of the conspiracy in front of him, or even just someone in his way to Emily. So easy to simply take the performance Daud had gift wrapped for him and not acknowledge this last, selfish confession. But he did believe it. Had no choice but to believe it, when everything slid into place like a terrible jigsawpuzzle being completed, even as he tried to tear at the pieces and scatter them.
Eventually he ran out of tears, not sure how long he'd stayed there on his knees. Long enough for everything to somehow ache even more, from his bent feet to his pounding head. Not long enough for Daud to just bleed out and save him from the choice that really wasn't one. Not if he wanted anything of Jessamine's to survive. Not if he wanted Emily to grow up in a world with even shred of something resembling fairness, mercy, anything good worth living for.
His eyes were dry as he lifted them again, painfully so, and spotted the multiple Whalers frozen around the scene. Visible. Some armed. None of them getting involved. Frozen in indecision. He hated that he understood now. Resented them for what they forced him to do now as much as for their actions.
Looking at anything but the people around him, Corvo slid his hand into his coat. The right one. He'd dropped the sword at some point, and it had scattered a bit away, out of his reach. He probably should have cared more than he did. The Heart pulsed against his palm, silent. There is no way back on the path he's chosen. Now he wondered. Had she meant it like this? Had she known what he would inevitably have to do, as much as he hated the thought? No. The man. Not the act. Not even now. Or had she meant it like he'd thought in the moment? Hurt and confused and despairing, with lashing out the only course of action left to her?
He'd never know. It's what it came down to at the end of it all. He'd never know, because as much as he tried not to face it, longed to cling to this status quo he knew couldn't last, this was not her. Not all of her. Just a broken, mutilated piece of shrapnel like himself.
He swallowed and found his mouth horribly dry but functional, even as the taste of iron still coated his tongue.
"She didn't have to die. Neither did I." For a moment he wished for another bit of that rage, for anger to rise up, to be able to curse the so called Loyalists for the betrayal, but he came up empty. There was just nothing left inside of him.
Finally he lifted his eyes again and focused on Daud, who was gaping at him. There was almost a dull satisfaction in seeing the man's wide eyes, something between confusion, shock, and horror etched into his face even as blood still seeped through the fingers pressed into his own chest. The vindictive streak in Corvo hoped that wound hurt him as much as it pained Corvo to choke out his next words.
"And neither do you."
Perhaps there was more he should have said. Promises of vengeance if he heard of Daud again. An ultimatum. Even just another insult. There was nothing.
Daud didn't answer. Corvo didn't expect him to. Instead he pulled his hand away from the Heart and heaved himself to his feet. A few steps to the side brought him over to his sword. Another few back to the still silent Daud to pick up his mask, now dripping red. After a moment's hesitation he used his already ruined coat sleeve to wipe out the inside of the mask but left the front as it was. Not like Piero would mind. If he was still alive. He hung it from his belt instead of putting it back on.
The Whalers hadn't unfrozen with his words, still stood like statues watching him slowly pick up his equipment. One in blue blocked his way back into the office to the key. For a moment they simply scrutinized each other. Or at least Corvo thought the Whaler was staring back. It wasn't exactly easy to tell with the masks.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the Whaler stepped to the side, taut like a crossbow string. But move he did.
Corvo walked past, through the window, to the only thing that still mattered. He didn't bother turning when finally there were sounds from outside, the scuffing of boots, the thumps of heavy landings. They wouldn't come for him. Whatever else he knew now, he knew they wouldn't bother him. Perhaps Daud would live with their help, perhaps it was too late already and all this grappling had been pointless. Either way it didn't matter. The Whalers, whatever would be left of them, whether that would include Daud or not, were problems for a future Corvo to deal with. Now it was time to find Emily and love with his decisions.
#dishonored#writing#fanfiction#corvo attano#daud#the whalers#angst#my fucking my did this take long#but i am finally done#hope you enjoy poor poisoned corvo dealing#badly maybe but he is
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helllo! I wanted to let you know I really like your wolf drawings! also I wanted to ask (and I'm sorry if this is annoying), but you the one who wrote the dishonored fic, wolfbann? cuz I really enjoyed reading it and have been rereading it a lot. so, I wanted to ask will you be continuing the blood wolf fic about daud? cuz I would like to read more of it if possible. thanks for your time! 🩵
Sorry I didn't answer this ages ago when I first got this, but yes, I am the one who wrote Wolfbann and Blood Wolf, and because it's been on my mind constantly this last week, there is a nonzero chance that I may be returning to those fics in the coming months. :) I don't want to get hopes up, of course, but know that the blorbos have been turning in my brain and I miss the universe and I reread my own fic and remembered how much it slaps (i wrote it literally as a fic I would want to read and I succeeded for sure) so give me some time to cook and I'll see what I can do.
#asks#starlightsparrowfox#dishonored au#dishonored#wolfbann#wolfssegner#blood wolf#werewolf au#i am literally just#itching#to go back#its so good i wanna write some standalone fanfic soon
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I think there should be a Dishonored TV show.
Imagine this: The Series follows several POV characters: Corvo (duh, probably in a low chaos run with some deaths), Emily (duh, little girl and the horrible no good very bad day, we see how she deals with the conspiracy and it can give some background on the villains), Daud (big regrets, has his whole Delilah story which, for TV reasons, happens at the same time as Corvo's revenge plot so the series can cut between them), and lastly Billie (lovestory with Delilah, betrayal of Daud, mercy in the end)
There can be amazing parallels between Corvo's low chaos revenge and Daud's quest for redemption, with a tense confrontation in Episode 8/9. Delilah as this secret foil that Corvo doesn't even know about, for dramatic purposes Daud has to defeat her in the last episode, so there can be a moment where the audience doesn't quite know if the Emily Corvo just rescued is still Emily. (For dramatic purposes this also needs to be the high chaos ending where Emily almost falls to her death, even though we're in mostly low chaos)
The Series (rough draft):
Episode 1: Corvo returns from his trip. Jess is murdered, Emily abducted. Title Screen. 6 months later. Corvo is being tortured in Coldridge. Daud is depressed and guiltridden. Billie is unimpressed. Episode ends with Corvo breaking out of Coldridge.
Episode 2: Corvo meets the Loyalists. Daud meets the Outsider who gives him the name "Delilah". Also he turns down contracts. Billie expresses her disapproval (again) and leaves the hideout to cool off. Emily is being held captive by the Pendletons who are being creepy and she tries to find a way out. Corvo gains the Mark of the Outsider and the Heart.
Episode 3: Corvo goes after Campbell, rescuing Martin along the way. Daud starts investigating (slaughterhouse). Billie is angry and leaves the hideout, meeting up with a lover who is afterwards revealed to be Delilah (her first appearance). Emily almost gets away from her captors, but is caught at the last second.
Episode 4: Corvo goes to the Golden Cat to rescue Emily. Daud investigates the Timshs. Billie scemes with Delilah to overthrow Daud. Episode ends with Corvo reuniting with Emily.
Episode 5: The Whaler hideout is overrun by Overseers. Billie reveals her betrayal, fights Daud and escapes. Corvo has a nice bonding moment with Emily. Corvo kidnaps Sokolov. Emily talks with the loyalists and gets the vibes that something is not right here.
Episode 6: The Boyle's party. Corvo identifies the right Boyle Lady and deals with her. Billie returns to Delilah who comforts her about having failed to kill Daud. Daud recovers from her betrayal. Emily has nightmares about Corvo dying.
Episode 7: Corvo goes to dispatch Burrows. Emily listens in on the Loyalists and their plans. Daud goes looking for a boat, and then for Lizzy Stride. Delilah reveals the beginning of her painting to Billie. Corvo returns to the Hounds Pit Pub and Emily tries to warn him, but is held back and locked in her room. Corvo is poisoned, Episode ends on him passing out.
Episode 8: Samuel drops Corvo in the Flooded District. Daud returns and finds Corvo. Emily is angry and ready to throw hands with the "loyalists", gets threatened. Bille and Delilah prepare for the ritual, Delilah tells Billie that afterwards she can go and kill Daud for real this time. Corvo wakes up and confronts Daud. They duel, Daud loses, asks for his life, Corvo doesn't say anything, but doesn't kill him. Corvo returns to the Pub.
Episode 9: Emily feels all alone in a cruel world, believing Corvo to be dead. Corvo and Daud both prepare for their final missions in a cool montage. Corvo infiltrates the Fort/Lighthouse and deals with Pendleton and Martin. Daud arrives at Brigmore manor, infiltrates it and finds the entrance to the void. Corvo goes on to search for Emily, her room is empty. Daud talks to the Outsider and confronts Billie and Delilah. Corvo finds Emily and Havelock. Daud fights Billie while Delilah (almost) completes her ritual. Corvo shoots Havelock and catches Emily. Daud injures Billie and goes to stop Delilah, bright flash of light. Emily looks up at Corvo with a strange smile. Delilah has vanished. Daud asks Billie if she's done it. Billie is angry as Delilah is gone, but has a heart to heart with Daud where they leave on relatively okay terms. Daud breathes a sigh of relief. Emily smiles and hugs Corvo, it's clear that she's still herself. Epilogue narration that everything turned out fine. End credit scene of Delilah very angry, but also very alive, in the Void.
Why 9 episodes, you ask? Well because I was trying for 10 but my planning which I came up with just now only wanted 9. 8 or 10 would make more sense from a TV standpoint though. I just think this would be such a cool series...
#dishonored#dishonored TV series#dishonored tv concept#i would watch the shit out of this#not art#writing#i guess#corvo attano#emily kaldwin#daud#billie lurk#delilah copperspoon#brigmore witches#hear me out on this
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Do you ever think about if the whalers actually meant to kill Jessamine in front of Emily?
Like, maybe I missed details about them and Daud. But I swear they never torture targets unless deemed necessary (ie for information). And Dishonored isn't the game to hold back on horrible things people done to others. There's lots of notes/books detailing shit what gangs have done, and its clear gangs tortured people, to either make a point or revenge. but the whalers? I can't recall any mention of it. I only remember reading they're a) really fucking good assassins and b) Daud and the outsider.
So to kill a mother in front of her daughter? Traumatizing her like that? I think it was another mishap. Another mistake they didn't plan for just like Corvo showing up two days early. I think Daud was meant to kidnap Emily first.
When he shows up in the gazebo, the first thing he does is grab Emily. Maybe it was so she didn't run off, but with his abilities? It's not like she couldn't have ran far. Jessamine then attacks Daud to release Emily, and that's when his attention is turned to her and he stabs her. Then, the whaler holding Corvo releases him to grab Emily as she tries to run.
But what if. He also didn't expect Emily to be there either. We know Billie was involved with the assassination. But we don't see her at all during the attack. Why would she not be there for the killing? The most important part of the mission? Because she was the one tasked to kidnapping Emily. Daud handles the killing, and Billie was trusted with the kidnapping. So what if Billie was in the Tower, searching every room for the young empress that should have been there. Maybe Emily had a lesson, but as soon as she caught wind Corvo's ship was returning, she rushed out to be there to greet him.
Anyway. Some food for thought. Also I need to explore Daud's regret of killing an empress, but does he regret killing a mother? And Emily deserves to confront his ass about it. If only I had a comic about that- oh wait I do. And 3 parts are out already hahahaha. Wow crazy.
(Read that here)
#my dh rambles#i was sitting on this for like 3 days and rewatched jessamine death like 10 times.#dishonored#thats all ill tag it god will decides if its good enough for the fandom to read HAHA
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How you'd rewrite Dishonored death of the outsider if it was fully fledged game with 10 missions? (like Dishonored or Dishonored 2)
Oooh!! Enrichment in my enclosure - thank you for asking! Thinking about a total rewrite was a great exercise. Fair disclaimer: I haven’t read the books & their canon-status can’t hurt me. To me, the Dishonored games stand out due to their immsim design philosophy, and thinking about some of the industry reasons for DotO’s departure from that, if I could make a standalone game with ~ten levels I would, but with the same budget I’d also happily make two DLCs made slowly over a longer timeframe with greater attention to detail.
Game structure
Finding Daud // Billie’s past
The fate of the Outsider // Billie’s future
Game story
Setting & Characters
Billie: What has Billie been doing since she’s returned to Serkonos? Knowing the Dreadful Wale will sink, she’s sold it for scrap & has set up an agency in Lower Aventa. She’s something of a detective/odd-jobs man (& assassin when it suits her). Business is booming, life is good. I think a long-running implication that she's becoming Daud in some ways would make for an interesting subplot.
Karnaca: a city that unfolds. In the first levels, Billie feels like a forgotten woman, a ghost slipped through the cracks, but as levels progress there are hints & references to how her past actions have affected others & shaped the city
Alignments: Witches, gangs, religion, industry; missions for clients who can’t necessarily pay their way. Missions that allow the player to explore/understand Karnaca in a deeper way.
Daud: Billie is unsure if Daud again will bring her any closure. She’s been thinking of him since her time with Emily, and his name keeps popping up.
Deirdre: the charm is a more functional heart, similar to Jessamine, as well as her own character design. Perhaps she doesn’t see Deirdre until she chooses the powers, or until she’s in the void (see next point)
First arc: Finding Daud // Billie’s past
Powers: the Outsider offers Billie powers even though her life is finally, actually good, so she’s pissed off. A choice - she can take them, or play no powers mode.
Breanna Ashworth is this arc’s villain - she wants Delilah back, and knows that Daud has banished her before, wants to know how he did it. Grief & desperation has changed her, and she no longer has her high society veneer. The remnants of the Karnaca coven, now powerless, have stolen from the Overseers to arm themselves to the teeth, and to neutralise Daud’s powers, in addition to black bonecharms.
Billie’s in a race against time against Breanna to find Daud, but by the last level it becomes clear that Breanna *has* found Daud, and has been torturing him for information about the void. Her dynamic with Billie is complicated by their past.
I think betrayal would be an interesting theme, so maybe one of the levels gives you the option to ally yourself with Breanna under false pretences.
Second arc: choosing the fate of the Outsider // Billie’s future
Delilah is the core villain, but she’s obsessed with killing the Outsider so she can take his place, having been violently ripped from her perfect world in her own painting by Breanna (who meant well), & knowing the Empire doesn’t hold her interest... but a perfectly mouldable void & infinite power does take her fancy.
As remorseful Daud is obsessing about preventing Delilah from taking power, Billie’s doing some detective work and learns more about the Outsider (he’s not showing up and monologuing - she’s finding this out herself. A level idea could be a raid on a ‘haunted’ houses where the void is thin)
Delilah succeeds in taking the Outsider's place, leaving the Outsider dead or mortal depending on if you are able to save him. Delilah has split her soul from herself before and she’s very much clever enough to learn the Outsider’s name to render him mortal.
Daud knows he’s dying, though, and it might be an ultimate sacrifice to save both Billie’s life, and the Outsider’s.
So during the final battle, there’s an option to make Daud the Outsider, because Daud wants Billie and the Outsider to have a shot at a normal life, and his life was forfeit in his own mind…
… or, reluctantly accepting the Outsider’s help, Billie finds a way to cut the void’s access to the world, rendering Delilah an all powerful god over a dead & silent world.
Because of the past/present focus of this you could even have levels set in the past - missions with Billie & Daud. Perhaps Billie as POV character, and Daud dropping by the way that Billie did in Knife of Dunwall. That’d be neat.
A heap of ideas here, hope there was something you liked :)
#dishonored#death of the outsider#daud#delilah copperspoon#billie lurk#the outsider#i dont know why you asked me this but i love that you did. thank you anon!#i wanted to stick to the topline ideas rather than dig into what the levels could look like#and you'll notice i mostly avoided the things introduced in doto. ie plot points & new characters#because none of them really pass the fandom test to me. i just dont see anyone obsessed with things from that game#and i could write an entire separate essay about cults in videogames & morality#i want billie's choices & life to have felt like it has meaning and made a difference#and i wanted the game to feel like it was more about billie even if its also about power & the fate of the world#and though i dont love where they went with the outsider & daud in the game. i do love having really high stakes
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Inktober 2023 / Day 20 - Frost/ Dishonored How this correlates to 'frost' perhaps could do with small back story and explanation .
In my country in old folk tales was belief that the way to the land of the dead is trough cold and frosty places. Each February, when it is coldest in here, sometimes the dead might come back to visit us too. We even lit candles in February so that ancestors spirits would find their way to us so they can see we are doing well. Putting lights on our windows is still a tradition (and not related to Christmas). When I was meditating on what should I do to nr.20: Frost, and closed my eyes, this one song started to play on my local playlist while outside was snowing. Yello- "Monolith" (<- YT link) ... and I immediately got of a scene of Daud after his death taking journey slowly trough the Void on board of Dreadful Wale towards the shimmer and empty forgetting who he is and who he was. The Void always felt cold and frosty to me. Daud's journey after death might be something I return to after Inktober outside the Inktobers time limitations. Down-scaling probably again killed some details. Also after inktober might post better versions of all those DH environments. From same Dishonored related series as prompts 3 and 14 and one of few works without any Hellraiser reference (even when I almost added Leviathan in it as there's some similarities of the Old God in DotO and HR leviathan)
#inktober 2023#inktober#dishonored#dishonored 2#ship#dailysketch#void#inktober2023#inspired by song#fanart#environment
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Do you have any more fun facts about Vlad Dracul?
Not many at hand but I know from where to take them (If you know Romanian):
youtube
Something that is less talked about on the internet is the Danube campaign after the failed Crusade of Varna where Walerand de Wavrin and Vlad Dracul team up to take Giurgiu: We are in Varna, not far from the Black Sea coast, and it is November 10, 1444. A horrific battle has just ended. Over 30,000 crusaders were overwhelmed by the Ottomans, who were twice as numerous, so half of the Christians were killed. King Vladislav III of Poland and Hungary died on the battlefield(Before the Battle Vlad Dracul offered him a Wallachian horse which were the best horses at that time (That's why a castrated horse in german is called "Wallach") but the king refused it), beheaded. He paid with his life for the haste (Before they learned about the death of Vladislav III The pope asked Vlad Dracul to negotiate with the ottomans for his release, since Vlad Dracul was seen as mediator between the Ottomans and Christians), impulsiveness and pride that led him to disregard the tactical plan drawn up by the experienced and brave voivode of Transylvania, John Hunyadi. The Turks are victorious and their opponents are retreating. The news of the defeat at Varna sends shivers down the spine of all of Europe. The only one putting the work on the ottomans at Varna was Vlad's older brother the 15-year-old Mircea, That till (if we believe the chronicle of the clown Michael Beheim) Murad II sent a letter to him: "Many of them, a countless number, were killed. When the Emperor(Murad II) heard what great losses his men were suffering, he sent a message to Trakal(Dracul/Mircea): if he did not stop fighting before more messages came to him, he would kill his two brothers whom he had captured. He would do this if he did not show restraint in battle."
For what Mircea II did at Varna watch this video, really worthy it, really sad ending too:
youtube
The Christian Crusade launched in 1443 did not end there, however. There was one last stage, known as the Danube Campaign, to which we now turn our attention.
At the request of the Byzantine Emperor John VIII Palaeologus, Pope Eugenius IV ordered a new Christian campaign, Burgundo-papal, to take place in the second half of 1445. It was commanded by Walerand de Wavrin, counselor and chamberlain of the Duke of Burgundy, Philip the Good, and commander of the crusader fleet in recent years. He was joined by the Venetian cardinal Francesco Condulmer (nephew of Pope Eugenius). The Venetians were very interested in this Danube campaign: let us not forget that the Turks had given the Genoese a commercial monopoly in Dobruja, at the mouths of the Danube, and Genoa and Venice were on different sides of the war.
The declared objective of the campaign was to destabilize the Ottoman Empire and replace the child sultan Mehmed II (the future Mehmed the Conqueror, 1444-1446, 1451-1481) with Daud Celebi, a pretender favored by the Crusaders. John Hunyadi, Voivode of Transylvania (future regent of Hungary), and Vlad Dracul, Voivode of Wallachia, were also persuaded to participate in the campaign.
The Burgundo-Papal fleet, consisting of a few dozen ships, sets sail from Constantinople and enters the Black Sea. Wavrin was in serious financial trouble: the money he had received from the Pope was gone, and he still had debts from equipping the ships. Before raising anchor, he sells his jewels for 1,000 ducats, but this is not enough. He engages in piracy in the Black Sea, plundering Turkish merchant ships. He is not alone, as two other Burgundian navigators, Geoffroy de Thoisy and Regnault de Confide, had done the same thing, in another area, closer to the Georgian Pontic coast. Thoisy returns to Constantinople, but Confide joins his ships with Wavrin's fleet.
The Burgundians arrive at Panguala, present-day Mangalia. Here, the commander (or "fleet captain" as he appears in some sources) sees the submerged ruins of the ancient city of Callatis as well as the rocky outcrops in the area that made navigation dangerous. From Panguala, the Crusaders go north and enter the Danube at Chilia. Officer Pietre Vasquez is sent to Wallachia and Transylvania to inform Vlad Dracul and John Hunyadi that the crusade expedition is ready. The fleet then arrives at Isaccea and finally at Brăila. Here Vasquez also returns and conveys to Wavrin John's order: to go up the Danube with 8 galleys and wait for the land forces in September. John was to bring some 10,000 soldiers and Vlad Dracul, about 5,000-6,000. In this late August 1445, an Ottoman prince (other than Daud), named Savci, who claimed to be the grandson of Murad II and who, with the help of Hungary, dreamed of the Ottoman imperial throne, also boarded one of the Burgundian ships. The Burgundian fleet reaches Silistra, which is heavily fortified. The Burgundians do not dare to besiege it and Savci does not succeed in convincing the soldiers to surrender the fortress to him. On August 29, the Burgundian fleet - from the water and Vlad Dracul's forces - from the land - destroyed Tutrakan (Turtucaia), then arrived at Giurgiu. John had not yet arrived, but the Christians nevertheless attacked Giurgiu. Here is what is mentioned in Wavrin's military journal: "The Lord of Wallachia sends news that a day's journey away by navigable water with a favorable wind, there is a fortress four times larger than Tutrakan, on a large island and which was called Giurgiu." Vlad says that it belonged to Wallachia, claims it and asks Wavrin to attack it. The Crusaders accept and a bombard (cannon) is brought from the captain's galley and dragged on sled runners to the front of the walls. Wavrin and his second-in-command Confide withdraw at one point and leave the Wallachians the cannon. The siege continues, especially since the shells seem to destroy part of the wall (it's just an appearance, according to sources). Uninspired, they fire frequently and the bombard breaks down, its rings burst and two gunners are killed in the accident. Wavrin and Vlad decide to pile wood next to the walls and set it on fire. The Ottoman garrison suffocates so the Turks decide to surrender and over 60 of them are taken hostage and the rest are allowed to leave (But In the same Wavrin chronicle, Mircea and Wavrin spoke:
“In the meantime, the son of the lord of Wallachia went to visit the lord of Wavrin, to whom, after greeting him, had an interpreter say that he was planning an enterprise against the Turks: and, if he promised him not to judging him badly, he would tell him his secret; which the lord of Wavrin absolutely swore to him. And then the interpreter, having received instructions from the son of The ruler of Wallachia, spoke in this way: "My father sent for me and told me that, if I do not avenge him of that subachi of that castle of Georgye (Giurgiu), he will disown me and he no longer considers me his son; because he is the one who betrayed him and who, with a safe conduct from the Turk, made him go to the aforementioned Turk, then took him prisoner to the castle of Gallipoli, where he held him for a long time with chains on his legs . Now the fact is that he and his Saracens have now surrendered to my father, their lives and possessions must be spared, and they must be taken to Vulgarye (Bulgaria); and I will go, along with 2000 Wallachians, two leagues from here, cross the river and set up an ambush on their path: so, when they try to go to Nicopolis, I will be in front of them, so I will put them all to death . ” A thing to which the aforementioned lord of Wavrin did not answer a single word, neither good nor bad. So the aforementioned son of Wallachia went away, to go and carry out his enterprise.“
So technically Vlad Dracul let them go but Mircea had other orders, he caught them, skinned them and put their empty husks on display next to the ottoman border (Deserved ngl) After Giurgiu, they go to Ruse, to Nicopolis and then further on, to Turnu Măgurele. John Hunyadi also arrives on the Danube on September 15. There are minor skirmishes with the Turks but everything ends on September 29, when, for fear of being caught in the ice on the Wallachian waters, the Crusaders decide to return to Constantinople. The crusade expedition fails but the memory of the huge crusade ships that sailed on the waves of the Pontus and the waters of the Danube, at Panguala, Chilia and Isaccea, then at Silistra and Tutrakan, remains…
#romania#history#vlad the impaler#vlad tepes#wallachia#vlad dracula#youtube#corpus draculianum#dracula#mircea ii#varna#Jean de Wavrin#Vlad Dracul#questions
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So I have goddamn finally finished the last chapter of They Had to Die. With a bit of luck (or ass kicking) I will have edited it and it will be ready for posting tomorrow. That said, the question is now what do I do next? Since I have 5 million drafts lying around I decided to give you a choice. I'm making no promises how fast I will be (and tbh I will likely do some Mass Effect writing first) but it will direct my focus.
Short fic descriptions under the cut
1. Corvo is poisoned a touch more than in canon. Not enough to kill but enough to lay him flat for a week in the Whalers' care. The Whalers take the opportunity with both hands, if they cannot convince their Master to defend himself they will have to instead have to convince his imminent killer to spare him. Their way of going about this is... clunky. Mostly humour, some angst
2. The next part of my Hadria saga. Daud received a contract on a child with a forged signature and has to make a decision. Hurt/comfort
3. Campbell and Burrows kill two Whalers in their negotiation for Jessamine's death to apply some more pressure to Daud. It backfires and Daud decides despite the risk his safest option is taking out Campbell and revealing his crimes to throw off the Abbey for a while. He fails and is captured. Billie tries desperately to do damage control, Jessamine starts to unravel some mysteries at her court, Thomas makes a decision, and Corvo really wishes his Empress would stop going on solo missions. Hurt/comfort, angst
4. Halfway to Karnaca after Delilah's coup Emily finally realizes her father is dead. (Look, Corvo got turned into a statue, I think Emily should at least have some doubt about his fate) Angst
5. Corvo witnesses Emily's birth as Daud sits with a dying street urchin. Fluff, Angst
6. Early in the Whalers' rise to fame Rulfio learns just what their master's immunity to poisons really entails. After having to help their medic do surgery on Daud without being able to sedate him he decides he cannot simply leave it at that and recruits his fellow Whalers to test out different anaesthetics on their leader. Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Fluff
7. Exactly what the title says. Set before they become a couple, Corvo does his duty, both in ways he is expected to and not, and eventually Jessamine, freshly 18, returns the favour when her well meaning father tries to send him to an honourable early retirement after a particularly bad injury. Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
8. Emperor Euhorn lives longer than he does in canon and he is not happy at the announcement of his future grandchild. He decides that the only way to stop the inevitable political fallout when it comes out who the child's father is is to send Corvo on a suicide mission to remove him from the situation without rousing suspicion. Jessamine is not willing to simply accept this and hires Daud to fake her lover's death long enough to depose her father and secure her early ascension as Empress, all while heavily pregnant. Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Political scheming
#dishonored#poll#i will also be faster with stuff if you engage with me#its so much easier to get motivated when people tell you their interested#but hot damn i will be done with they had to die tomorrow#i will do my abosolute best
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i'm so normal about daud's pov in the return of daud, i'm SO normal about it. "i can't abide a mystery" he says, and then goes on and on about some super important item he's been failing to track and lay his hands on without naming the item in question Even Once (he does name it, eventually, but my point still stands)
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Daud
Uncle Daud
Daddy Daud and his kids
Parkour
Young Daud
The Knife of Dunwall
Return of Delilah
Mercy
Meme art
Exhausted Daud
Family
I do no see it (meme)
The Dad
Daud x Corvo
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(blink)
(from this voidtober list)
Blink and you'll miss me, was what Corvo thought the first time he turned into a prick of light in the real world, the dark and drizzling street, and shot from one balcony to the next. It'd been disorienting in the Void, all blue-gray open space and shambling landmarks, but there—in the air, in the moment of a back turned and a conversation peaking—it was safety.
The scene under him has moved: lights out, a figure huddled at a back window, the next one over from where it started. He might have a better view from the small balcony overhead rather than atop this streetlight—had been on his way out, stymied by the lack of entries, when he caught sight of the figure in the bushes. Maybe the trip wouldn't be completely wasted, he'd considered, stopping to watch. He could always return to sniff through Lord Farthing's business on another sleepless night.
He eyes the distance to the balcony—might need a starting jump—crouches lower, springs, and catches sight of the figure turning towards him just as he turns to light.
The split second of movement stretches out with thought: couldn't have seen, streetlight was behind me, moved just in time, and then his soles hit the balcony rail in silence and down below the figure is already looking up at him, already moving, the spark of eyes in its hood meeting his like they followed the light.
And then they're there—next to him—a familiar flicker around them—he leaps back, blinks to the next balcony over, then the roof, tiles solid but grating against each other, too loud, the pinch of Void-burn in his hand and chest and he starts forward on foot to give himself time to recover but the figure in the hood appears nearly on top of him and they stumble and almost slide and his back hits the tiles—hope no one hears enough to come looking—and his hand moves to grab a wrist before he's fully registered that there's a knife being pressed to his throat. Their arms tense and twist and hold, neither giving ground. Corvo looks up into the hood.
The scar—no. He's not supposed to be here.
"You're the one who's been watching me?" Daud, wanted assassin, hisses incredulously.
"The Greaves job?" Cleaned out when he got there. "The Perth-Warrens?" That time he'd caught sight of someone leaving and never managed to catch them.
Daud edges back, barely a sliver of an inch, and then their standoff with the knife has it jerking closer to his chin, Corvo's crushing grip taking the upper hand. It evens out again with Daud gritting his teeth. His eyes flick between Corvo's a moment, mouth tight, face not giving anything more away.
"Window locks won't slide," he grunts. "You could break the glass. Or I hear there's a way in from the river." Then his arm twists in Corvo's hold and in a second he's gone, Corvo surging up to follow then settling, stopping, ears open for commotion from inside the house.
It's not the night for it. He'll deal with both problems later.
#too many tobers#dishonored#writins#at first this was standard dishonored and then in the middle of it i decided it fit the au where corvo was a spy for burrows' predecessor#better. but like#i haven't actually posted anything but a snippet in that universe yet. and also the context barely makes an appearance#corvo attano#daud
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